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marblemoovt · 2 years ago

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Love Triangle - Griffith/Reader/Guts

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 11.4k

Warnings: Graphic depictions of Violence. Attempted Rape/Non-Con. Fluff. Angst (Happy ending)

Summary:

The events of Berserk up until just after the eclipse with the reader. (I honestly cannot summarize this well enough, but just give it a shot)

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“But what about Griffith? Casca? The men in your unit?”

Guts smiles and shrugs. “They’ll be fine without me.”

You stare at the ground and fidget with your fingers. “What about me?” you ask in a quiet voice. When you dare to look up, he looks conflicted, And for a second, you actually think he’ll stay.

“…Come with me then,” he suggests.

You blink owlishly at him. “Sorry?”

“Come with me. We can travel together and look for our own dreams.” He looks so earnest that it hurts to turn down his offer.

“Guts, you know I can’t leave.” You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. The thought of leaving Griffith is too much to bear.

Guts furrows his brows. “We both know that’s bullshit. It’s only a matter of if you want to.”

Note:

This is an ask.

This took me a while to write because I kept getting ideas. Honestly, I'm tempted to rewrite this one day as a series instead of a oneshot, just because this version feels too condensed for what I wanted to convey. I initially thought that this wouldn't be that long, and then I ended up around 11k words, so oops. My brain is very kaputt, so there's not much else I have to say right now. I did have fun writing this though, I found it interesting.

Happy reading! (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

“Good job, darling,” Griffith praises, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. You glance over at him with a smile.

You sheathe your sword and wipe away the sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand. “Thank you. There’s still a maneuver I struggle with,” you say. You worked on it all week, but your one swing doesn’t have as much control as you would like.

“Perhaps I can help?” Griffith offers, and you nod gratefully. You demonstrate the move and huff in frustration when you miss your mark on the training dummy. “I see the problem.” Griffith comes up behind you and adjusts your stance. His breath tickles your ear. “You need to tilt your wrist at more of an angle.” His soft hands encompass your wrist—how can he have such delicate hands for a swordsman?? “Like this.” Griffith chuckles in bemusement, and you could have sworn the jet of air against the nape of your neck was intentional. “Try now.”

You tighten your grip on the sword and swing your arm, gasping when you cut the dummy clean across its torso. “Thank you, Sir,” you say, eyes still lingering on the deep gash you made.

“I merely guided you, dear. Take more credit for your talents,” Griffith says. You nod mutely and glance over your shoulder, scrambling away from him when your nose almost brushes against his. He merely flashes his usual smile and walks away to talk to the other members. You’re too lost in your head that you don’t notice Guts approaching you.

“I see you finally managed to perfect your swing,” Guts says, tilting his head towards the dummy. You grin and bounce on the balls of your feet.

“Yeah! Griffith helped me. Wanna see it?” you ask. The stiffening of his jaw is too subtle for you to notice. You’re too caught up in your excitement and the adrenaline from being close to Griffith.

“Alright, show me what you got.” Guts crosses his arms and waits expectantly. You take a deep breath and resume your stance, angling your wrist like earlier. One swing later, the dummy has another gash across its chest. You turn to Guts, the grin on your face faltering when you take in his unimpressed expression. He hums and says, “while that was a good swing, it won’t work in battle unless your enemy is unarmoured. But every armour has its weak spots.” Guts pulls out his sword and decapitates the dummy in a single swipe. “Like the neck.”

Your lips pinch together, but you manage a weak smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” You thank him for the advice and excuse yourself under the pretence of fetching a new dummy. Walking past the shed where the dummies are kept, you stop at the bench where you left your belongings. Taking a swig from your waterskin, you douse the remainder on your head to cool yourself off. You run a hand down your face, jumping out of your skin when Griffith appears in front of you.

“I do apologize for Guts’s behaviour. He’s not very adept at matters of the heart,” Griffith says. His hair is bright underneath the sun, and you’re momentarily blinded by his beauty.

“I-I don’t quite understand,” you say. Since when did training fall under the category of feelings?

Griffith’s lips turn up in a gentle curve, and he pats your head. “I’m sure he meant to praise you in his own roundabout way,” Griffith says, wiping a drop of water that was about to drip off your chin. You shudder from the contact and cannot control the colour of your face. He seems pleased by your reaction and adds, “you did wonderful, darling.”

“I-I did?” It takes all your brain cells to say those two words. You can only stare like a startled deer. His touch still lingers on your chin, the rough pad of his thumb caressing your skin.

“Of course. Our enemies will never know what hit them. The Grim Reapers of the Battlefield and you, my Scythe.” The grin on his face is soft, but you can’t shake off the predatorial feeling. He’s never called you that before. A title makes you feel important; it gives you a purpose. You understand that Griffith has a dream, an ambitious one at that. Maybe this is his way of keeping you by his side.

“I won’t let you down,” you say, straightening your back.

Griffith chuckles and says, “Of course, dear. You never fail to exceed my expectations.” And this time, the smile reaches his eyes. Warmth blooms in your chest, and you forget your feelings of uneasiness. He kisses your cheek, and it’s the most open he’s been with his affection for you. You don’t have a label for what you two are. You obviously like him more than a friend, and he seems to reciprocate those feelings. But you’re too afraid to ask what you mean to him. Because what if you’re deluding yourself into thinking he likes you back?

“What are we?” The words tumble from your lips before you realize they’re coming out.

Griffith tilts his head to the side. “That’s quite a philosophical question,” he remarks.

You nibble on your bottom lip. “N-no. I meant us. What’s going on between us? You clearly know how I feel about you.” Your anxiety spikes when he doesn’t respond. “I can pretend nothing ever happened if that’s what you prefer,” you add.

“What do you want us to be?” Griffith asks.

You furrow your brows. “Does my opinion really matter?” He has the power in this conversation, not you. It doesn’t matter how much you love him. Your love does nothing unless he accepts it.

Griffith smiles, and there’s a gleam in his eyes. “I want to hear you say it,” he says. His eyes burn into you, and you feel so naked under his gaze. A part of you is thrilled by the attention. He must like you to some capacity if he can look at you with such intensity.

Emboldened by his stare, you say, “I want us to be lovers.”

He bows and kisses the back of your hand. “Then your wish is my command. Come by my tent tonight,” Griffith commands. Your shoulders tense, and a chill washes over you.

You lick your lips and hesitantly part them. “Griffith, when I said lovers, I didn’t solely mean sex.” You didn’t want to be used and thrown away. The lustful stares you’ve received from others are frightening. Enemies on the battlefield have sneered at you and made taunts about what they’ll do to you once they win. The nobles that Griffith deals with are not subtle at all in their advances. This is not to say that you are the most attractive person in the land—no, that title is taken by Griffith—but that humans can be awful and scummy creatures.

Griffith hums. “You desire to be my partner, do you not? There are many other activities to do during the evening. I apologize if my intentions came off as otherwise.” He makes it sound like it's your fault, but you apologize like the fool you are.

You quickly throw your hands up and sputter, “Oh, no! I’m sorry for assuming!”

Griffith strokes your arm, and a soft smile tugs his lips. You breathe out a sigh of relief; he forgives you. “Then I look forward to your company later,” he says, grinning in a cat-like manner.

You watch as Griffith walks away. In the corner of your vision, you notice Casca glaring at you. What’s her problem?

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

“You’ll freeze to death if you keep standing out there,” Guts says, observing your shivering form. You rub your hands together, hoping the friction will thaw the numbness gnawing into your bones.

“I was going to enter… eventually,” you say, pausing when you hear the gentle slosh of liquid. “What are—“

He holds out a mug and says, “It’s for you. Thought some cider would help you warm up.” This is probably the kindest thing Guts has ever done for you. You gratefully accept the drink and groan when your fingers wrap around the hot cup. Blowing on the surface of the cider, you take a small sip and feel the warm liquid flow down your throat and into your stomach. Warmth pools in your belly and the rest of your body heats up.

“I…. Thank you,” you whisper. You almost hope that Guts didn’t hear it because it was embarrassing, but the soft lines in his features say otherwise. You’re halfway through your cider, making small talk with Guts. He asks you about your hobbies and what you did before joining the band. You learn how he was picked up and raised by mercenaries. You vocalize your admiration for his tenacity. It requires tremendous strength to endure such hardships as a child and learn to grow from them. Guts is left speechless after your little ramble.

“Darling, there you are. Please, come inside. You’re shivering.” Griffith fusses over you. You actually feel quite warm now thanks to the cider from Guts. Griffith takes your hand and tugs you toward his tent. You smile and wave goodbye to Guts, thanking him for helping you warm up. He nods stoically and stands there, watching you disappear into the tent before stalking off toward the campfires.

“Griffith, your hand is squeezing too tight,” you say. A grimace forms on your face, and your hand throbs from the pressure. He doesn’t say anything but loosens his grip. You observe the inside of his tent. It’s modest since the camp is relocated often, but the tent is full of his scent. You’re too preoccupied to notice when he takes the unfinished drink from your hands and empties it into the dirt.

“Can I get you anything to drink, dear?” Griffith asks, already browsing through his wine collection.

You shake your head. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t drink. My tolerance is weak.” You want to be completely sober tonight. Alcohol will only make you feel awful the next morning with little recollection of the previous night.

Griffith tuts, and there’s disappointment in his tone. “Come now. Let us celebrate our budding relationship. Don’t make me drink by myself,” he frowns.

You bite your lip and mull over it, but you eventually shake your head. “No. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to drink alcohol tonight.”

“Just one glass, please?” Griffith gives you a pleading look, and your resolve crumbles.

You sigh and relent. “I guess one glass wouldn’t hurt.”

Griffith grins and pours you a drink. You swirl the maroon liquid and inhale its sweet aroma. Taking tiny sips, you pace yourself. The wine is nice and most likely very expensive. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth at the revelation that it was probably a gift from a noble. You always thought something was off about the way they treated Griffith.

You set down your half-finished wine and lick the remaining sweetness from your lips. You catch Griffith's gaze, and he’s staring at you intently. Heat floods your body. Whether from embarrassment or alcohol, you’re not sure. He stands up and towers over you. You look up and lose yourself in his blue eyes.

“A toast to us,” he says, holding his drink out. A slight frown forms on your lips, but you pick up your wine and clink your glasses together. After another sip, a familiar fuzziness blankets your mind. You hum and curl up in your seat. The room begins shifting and morphing in your vision.

“I think I’ve had a bit too much.” You try hard not to slur your words.

Griffith lifts your cup to your lips and says, “You’re almost done. Let’s not waste such fine wine.”

You pout. “Can’t you drink the rest for me?”

“Are you sure you don’t want the rest? It’s only a few sips.”

You shake your head. “Don’t want anymore. Head’s fuzzy now.”

“Alright, darling.” He takes your glass from you and finishes your drink.

You rub your eyes and blink to clear your vision. “Can you hold me?” you request, holding your arms out like a small child.

“I would love to. Come here, darling.” Griffith picks you up and walks over to his cot. It’s a tight fit, but there’s enough room for two. He cradles you to his chest, and you soak in his warmth. His hair tickles your face, and you brush the fair locks away with a giggle.

You look up at Griffith to see him smiling fondly down at you. “This is nice,” you say, playing with a strand of his hair.

“Yes, it is.” His breath fans across your face, and he nuzzles his nose against your cheek. You giggle from how it tickles, your skin tingling with electric sparks. His lips hover in front of yours, and he looks at you for permission.

“Please kiss me,” you whisper. His sharp inhale eases some of your anxiety. He wants this as much as you do. You wait with bated breath. Should you be the one to close the gap?

His lips make contact with yours before you can mull over the idea much longer. He tastes sweet like the wine from earlier. His fingers thread your hair, and he kisses you like a starved man. He devours you, nipping softly at your bottom lip. You groan, and he slips his tongue inside to explore your mouth. The sensation is foreign but not unpleasant. In fact, a shiver runs down your spine when he licks your gums and teeth.

An idea pops into your head, and you suckle on his tongue, resulting in your scalp stinging. “You’re going to be the death of me,” Griffith groans. You pant and catch your breath, beaming a smile at him. He shifts so that you’re underneath him now. His arms form a cage around your body. He peppers kisses along your jawline before trailing down your neck. Your skin burns every time his lips make contact. You moan his name softly, and he slips a hand beneath your shirt.

You tense up and shove him back. “Wait! I’m sorry. I’m not—I’m not ready for that,” you stammer. You’re afraid to be another conquest. Everything feels like it’s moving too fast. You bite your lip and blink furiously. Griffith looks at you with wide eyes, taken aback by the sudden stop.

He coos and caresses your cheek when your eyes glisten with tears. “That’s alright. Sleeping with you in my arms is enough. I would never force you into something so intimate without your consent.”

“Promise?” You stare into his blue eyes, and they crinkle at the corners. He kisses your forehead.

“I swear on it,” he promises. And you believe him.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

Almost a year has passed since that night in Griffith’s tent. While you’ve given and received pleasure, you still haven’t gone all the way. That’s not to say you’re a prude, but you still worry about how penetrative sex will change your dynamic with Griffith. Yes, you love him. And yes, he loves you too. But will his feelings change once you allow him to see your most vulnerable parts? Will he decide that you no longer deserve a place in his dream? Being discarded is one of your worst fears.

The band mostly comprises of men, and some of their views are… crude, to put it lightly. Honestly, how they can lust after people like they’re mere objects leaves an uneasy ache in your stomach. The love you see in this world is not always idyllic; it rarely is. So you developed a fear of getting too close to people. Because deeper connections lead to stronger heartbreak when they inevitably betray your trust. But then came Griffith, and you knew you were helpless.

Despite this, Griffith has never complained. He never pushes you further than you’re willing to go, and he always leaves you thoroughly satisfied. He seems content with the way things are. Every night spent in his arms leaves you feeling safe and loved.

You always supported Griffith’s dream. So when he was granted a noble title, you were ecstatic for him. He’s one step closer to achieving his goal. But then he stopped coming home at night. He started disappearing for days without leaving an explanation for his whereabouts. You don’t want to embarrass him by frantically searching the castle grounds, so you spend many nights waiting for him in your shared room until you pass out in an armchair or in bed. The others don’t say anything, but you can feel their pitiful gazes when they think you’re not looking.

These days you tend to avoid everyone, and they give you your space. But it seems like the only one who won’t leave you alone is Guts. Whenever you’re wallowing in the corner of a tavern or wandering aimlessly through the streets, he always finds you. At first, you ignored him, but his company wasn’t unwelcome. There isn’t the desire to impress or strive for perfection that comes with Griffith. With Guts, you’re allowed to just exist. He doesn’t expect anything from you, and that’s very liberating.

Today is one of your wandering days. Griffith didn’t come back last night. Again. The weather is growing colder, so you bundle yourself up before heading outside. You snag one of Griffith’s scarves and blink back tears when his scent encompasses you. The wind whips through your hair, but you only tighten the scarf around your neck and trudge forward. You avoid the square, not wanting to be surrounded by people. You decide to walk towards the gardens today. The collage of red, orange, and yellow might brighten your mood. Luckily, the gardens are empty. Everyone must be in the marketplace preparing for winter or warming up in the shops.

You find a bench near a tall oak tree. Leaves crunch beneath your feet, and the wind sends a couple dancing through the air. You take a seat and wrap your jacket tighter around your body. Your fingertips tingle, and you scold yourself for forgetting to bring gloves. Although your mind has been drifting lately.

“Mind if I join ya?” You turn in the direction of the voice and see Guts. He’s holding two cups in his hands.

“You can if one of those is for me,” you reply, rubbing your hands together. He sits beside you and hands you the steaming drink. “Cider?” you ask, sniffing the cup. Instead of smelling apples, there’s a dark, rich scent. You’ve only smelled something similar on rare occasions. “Is this?”

“Chocolate. Hot chocolate. I know you don’t care much for ale, and I’m sure you’re sick of cider.” Guts shrugs and takes a sip. His pleased expression makes you curious. You always find chocolate bitter, and the sweeter options are ridiculously overpriced because of sugar. He watches with an amused smile as you inspect the drink in your hand. “It ain’t gonna bite.”

You stick your tongue out at him and bring the cup to your lips. You tilt it slowly to avoid burning yourself. The hot chocolate glides smoothly down your throat, and your tastebuds feel delighted. It’s not bitter, but it’s not overly sweet. The richness of the chocolate is tamed by the warm cream, and there’s just enough sugar to make it enjoyable. You make a happy noise and take another sip.

“Good?” Guts asks, and you nod your head enthusiastically. The hot chocolate is still too hot, so you use it as a hand warmer until you can drink it without scalding your tongue.

“What brings you here?” you ask. You don’t keep track of what everyone else does in their spare time, but Guts doesn’t seem like the type to spend it in the gardens.

“That little guy over there,” he answers, pointing a finger to the tree near the bench. You look and see nothing out of the ordinary and turn back to him with confusion.

“The tree?” You hope you’re wrong, although it would be hilarious if you weren’t.

“Shh, no. Look again,” he says. You shrug and look at the tree, scanning its long trunk and colourfully decorated branches. Something moves in the corner of your vision. You narrow it down to one of the lower-hanging branches. There’s a tail flickering from side to side??

Guts whistles, and a cat jumps down from the tree. Its orange fur camouflages it perfectly amongst the leaves. The cat struts over but pauses when it sees you. You freeze, not wanting to startle the creature.

“S’alright, boy. Nothin’ to worry about. Brought a friend with me today,” Guts speaks in a soft tone. You’re honestly surprised he can sound so gentle. The cat eyes you warily but pads forward and hops onto Guts’s lap. He scratches the cat's head before stroking down his back. A low purr rumbles along with the wind. You stare in awe at the scene in front of you. Guts grins when he notices your expression.

You feel your lips curling up into a smile. “Does he have a name?” you ask, but Guts shakes his head.

“He’s a stray. Didn’t wanna name him in case I got too attached,” he replies. You nod in understanding, glancing at the cat enviously. Guts chuckles and asks, “do ya wanna pet him?”

“May I? What if he doesn’t like me?” You roll your bottom lip between your teeth, drumming your fingers against your cup.

“Just gotta move slowly. Let him sniff ya a bit,” he instructs. You shift the cup and stretch out a hand, hovering it in front of the cat. A puff of air hits your skin as a wet, pink nose sniffs you hesitantly. You hold your breath, gasping when the cat rubs its fluffy head into the palm of your hand. You take it as permission to pet him and scratch behind his ears. “Cute,” Guts mumbles.

You grin and look up at Guts. “He’s adorable. I wish we could keep him,” you say, entranced by the fuzzy creature.

“Yeah. A battlefield ain’t a place for a cat.” There’s a dip in his tone. Your smile turns bitter, and you give the cat a scritch underneath his chin.

An idea pops into your head. “We could keep him in our rooms in the capital! I think we’ve left our camping days behind us.” Your suggestion sparks Guts’s interest, which spurs you on. “He can clearly take care of himself, so we can let him out every day and ask someone to feed him when we’re away!”

“That… doesn’t sound half-bad,” he remarks.

You bounce in your seat and plant a kiss on the top of the cat’s head, which earns you a loud purr. “Did you hear that, little guy? You’re coming home with us!”

Guts smiles in amusement and says, “Your idea; you get to name him.”

You shake your head and laugh. “Oh, no. I’m terrible at making decisions.”

“C’mon, I’m sure ya got somethin’ in mind.”

“Hmmm. Then what about Ember?” you suggest. Guts ponders for a moment, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Since his fur is orange, it reminds me of fire,” you add as if your explanation will improve your idea.

“I like it. He’s warm like fire, too,” Guts says.

You smile. “That’s perfect for me since I’m always cold.” The sky has melted into a soft pink as the sun begins to dip. You didn’t realize so much time had passed. “I’ll go buy some things before the shop closes.” You rise from your seat and give Ember one last pet. Impulsively, you pat Guts on the head. His posture stiffens, and you giggle at how taken aback he is.

“I’ll, uh, take Ember to his new home,” he says, rising up and rushing to the exit. You watch as he scrambles frantically, stifling a laugh when he smacks into a bush. Heading to the shops, you make a mental list of the items you need. You stop by the butcher to buy some chicken and other cuts of meat you think Ember will like. Next is the general store, where you buy some blankets and bowls. Armed with bags, you head home, eager to return to your new feline friend.

You enter the building and nod your head to greet everyone you passed, beelining straight to Guts’s room. You adjust the bags in your grip and knock on the door. “It’s me,” you say. There’s a soft thump followed by a loud meow. You smile to yourself and wait patiently, hearing some scuffling and more cat noises.

“Come in. Doors not locked,” Guts says. You enter and set the bags on the ground. Ember is immediately interested in what you’ve brought him. You take out the blankets and hand them to Guts. He walks away to find a spot to place them, so you grab the bowls next and fill one of them with water. When you turn around, you’re greeted with the sight of Ember sitting contently in an empty bag.

“You are so damn cute,” you whisper, crouching down for a better vantage point. Ember flops onto his side, and you squeal.

“What’s the matter?!” Guts rushes to your side, looking around the room for any threats. You point at Ember, your hands shaking from excitement. Guts turns his head, and his expression softens. “Just when I thought the fucker couldn’t get any cuter.”

You gasp and grab his arm. “I have a basket I never use. What if….” You gesture frantically towards Ember, and Guts catches on.

“He would have his own bed. And you could carry him too!”

You snap your fingers. “Yes, exactly!! I’ll be right back!” You stand up and head to your room with a spring in your step. You hum happily and open the door, forgetting to close it in your excitement.

“And just where have you been?” You pause. You haven’t heard that voice in days—a week almost.

“Griffith?” You stare in shock. You wouldn’t blame yourself if it turns out you’re hallucinating. But Griffith is very much real and not a figment of your imagination when he invades your personal space.

He frowns and furrows his brows. “Were you expecting someone else?” he asks. You step back, and the smile on your face falters.

“What? Of course not. What gave you that idea?” You search his eyes and find nothing but suspicion. Does he not trust you?

“It’s alright, darling. I understand it gets lonely. I didn’t mean to leave you alone so often,” he condescends. He reaches out and places a hand on your shoulder.

White, hot anger flashes through your veins. “I hope you’re not implying what I think you are.” Your tone drops low, and Griffith smiles.

He tilts his head to the side. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes,” you seethe, shoving his hand off of you. “If you actually asked anyone here how I’ve been, you would know the answer.”

“I—”

“No.” You jab a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to disappear with no explanation for, what, a week? And then come back to accuse me of cheating?” You huff and clench your fists, raising them before letting your arms fall to your sides right after.

Griffith bristles at your raised voice. “Stop acting like a selfish child. I am doing what’s best for us. Do you know how hard I am working to improve our lives?”

“I’m not being selfish,” you say. You swallow the lump in your throat and continue, “All I ask for is a fraction of your time and affection. Countless nights going to bed and waking up alone. I’m sick of it.” You keep your tone even, refusing to let him know how much this is destroying you internally.

Griffith scoffs, “What am I? A pet? Must I return to you every night and be at your beck and call?”

You shake your head. “I never said that. Stop twisting my words!” He does this all the time. That glib tongue of his comes in handy when interacting with the nobles. But he uses it against you to gain the upper hand in arguments. You don’t have the energy to deal with this. Today was going so well—you got to pet a cat! And now, this one interaction has soured it all. You turn towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Griffith asks. Are you running from your problems? Yes. Do you care? Not at the moment, although you’re sure you’ll regret this later.

You glance over your shoulder. “I’m going to cool off.” You storm out, but not before grabbing the basket you came for. The door whips open from the sudden force. Your feet continue trudging with no destination in mind. Eventually, you stop in front of Guts’s room. You stand in front of the door and wait until your eyes no longer burn, breathing slowly to ease the tightness in your throat. With another deep breath, you enter the room.

“You ok?” Guts gets straight to the point. He takes in your expression and curses under his breath. “Stupid question. Course you aren’t.” You hate how gentle his tone is. You don’t want to be treated like a wounded animal.

“He just makes me so mad sometimes,” you say, staring up at the ceiling. Gravity works against you, and your tears still fall. Guts walks up to you but lingers around an invisible threshold. He looks conflicted. Like he wants to comfort you but is afraid to get too close. He remains an arms-length away

Guts opens and closes his mouth. You can see he’s cycling through various things to say, and you appreciate his thoughtfulness. “Cause he leaves you alone often?”

You wince. “Were we that loud?”

Guts shrugs and says, “Half the band could hear ya going at each other. The door was also wide open.”

“Fuck.” You plop onto the ground and sit cross-legged. You are not looking forward to the looks you’ll receive from everyone once word spreads of your fight with Griffith. For ex-mercenaries, they sure do love their gossip. “It’s just not fair when he gets mad at me for doing the same things he does to me. And then he has the nerve to accuse me of cheating?” You lie down, hoping the wood against your back will ground you.

Ember shimmies out of the bag and curls up on our chest. The added weight is comforting and warm. He purrs loudly, and you laugh through your tears. Guts sits down beside you, still maintaining some distance. This irritates you, so you decide to bridge the gap by shuffling closer to him.

He tenses up, but you don’t care. You like the warmth radiating from his body. “You can always come to me if you need someone to listen to your troubles,” he says, glancing down at you. “Or for some cat cuddles.” He pets Ember on the head. “They’re great at healin’ all types of emotional wounds.”.

You crack a wry smile. “Thank you.” You can faintly hear Griffith calling your name. He must be looking everywhere for you. “I gotta go. His Highness is calling me.” You sit up and move Ember onto Guts’s lap. The cat gives you an annoyed look and flicks his tail. You apologize as you stand up, promising to bring treats next time.

Guts tugs on your pants leg. “Just take care of yourself, yeah?”

You nod but don’t give a verbal answer. Waving goodbye, you head in the direction you last heard Griffith.

You never take Guts up on his offer. Griffith makes another promise and returns to you every night.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

“I’m leaving,” Guts says. He’s carrying Ember in his little basket, but your full attention is on the determined look on his face.

“Are you going to train? Can I join you?” you ask.

Guts shakes his head. “No. I’m leaving the band.”

You pause and stare. “You’re—you’re joking, right?” When he doesn’t say anything more, you realize he’s serious.

“I don’t belong here anymore,” he says. The expression on his face is all too familiar to you. The face of someone who knows they cannot stay. But you just can’t understand why he would want to leave everything behind.

“But what about Griffith? Casca? The men in your unit?”

Guts smiles and shrugs. “They’ll be fine without me.”

You stare at the ground and fidget with your fingers. “What about me?” you ask in a quiet voice. When you dare to look up, he looks conflicted, And for a second, you actually think he’ll stay.

“...Come with me then,” he suggests.

You blink owlishly at him. “Sorry?”

“Come with me. We can travel together and look for our own dreams.” He looks so earnest that it hurts to turn down his offer.

“Guts, you know I can’t leave.” You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. The thought of leaving Griffith is too much to bear.

Guts furrows his brows. “We both know that’s bullshit. It’s only a matter of if you want to.”

“I….” You’re at a loss for words. Yes, it would be so much easier to just leave everything behind and start again. Travel with someone who actually enjoys your company. Explore the world to find yourself. But you just can’t. Silver hair and blue eyes will continue to haunt you no matter where you go. You don’t want to prove Griffith right by running away from your problems.

Guts places a hand on your shoulder, and you stiffen. No one but Griffith ever gets this close to you. “Love, I’ve seen the way he treats you. He’s cold one minute, then showers you with affection. And the two of you pretend as if nothing happened. It ain’t healthy,” he says.

You frown. Griffith can be a bit moody, but that’s because he’s been under a lot of stress lately. “No, Griffith loves me.”

“And so do I.” Guts scans your face. You’re not sure what he’s looking for. “Why can’t you see that?” he rasps.

You smile and pat his hand. “You’re a good friend, Guts.” You’re glad that he cares so much for you. You hope that he achieves his goal—you really do.

Guts chortles, “Right. Friend. Listen, if you won’t leave with me, at least save yourself the heartache and end things with Griffith.”

Your smile slips. “I love him too much,” you say, gnawing the inside of your cheek.

“He ain’t the man you think he is, and you’ll feel like a fool when you realize it,” he warns.

You shrug your shoulders. “I know I’m a fool, but I can’t stop loving him.” If only it was easy to stop loving someone. People would be changing lovers like they change clothes. Despite knowing Griffith is flirting with Princess Charlotte, you can’t bring yourself to hate him. You definitely don’t blame Charlotte. So yes, you’re well aware of how naive you are to think Griffith is still yours alone.

Guts hands you the basket. “Take care of Ember. I would take him with me, but I’d worry too damn much since I’m gonna travel lots.” You take the basket and peer at the orange tabby, who’s adjusted very well to domestic life.

“He’s going to miss you,” you say, holding back tears.

Guts pats your head, and a bitter smile twists his lips. “He ain’t even gonna notice I’m gone.”

“He will. He’ll definitely notice and miss you a lot.” There’s a pregnant pause. You both know you’re not talking about the cat.

Guts rubs the back of his neck. “I ain’t good with goodbyes, so I’ll see you again,” he says.

“Soon?” you croak, tightening your grip on the basket.

“Whenever our paths decide to cross.” He ruffles your hair and laughs when you gripe about it. You resist the urge to hug him, remembering how he flinched the last time you touched him. So instead, you wave and stand in the doorway until he disappears from sight.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now, little guy,” you whisper to Ember, who rolls onto his back and stares up at you with his green eyes. You shut the door and set the basket by the fireplace, heading to the ice chest to prepare supper.

The day that Guts leaves is the first time Griffith breaks a promise to you. You wait all night for him, but he never shows up. You fall asleep in front of the fireplace, curled up in an armchair. You don’t find out why until the morning when some band members storm your room and demand you get ready before promptly leaving.

“What have you done…” you sigh and trail after the rest of the band.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

He got captured. The stupid idiot got himself captured for treason. It’s been almost a year, and you’re still struggling to wrap your mind around it. You didn’t realize how important Guts is to Griffith. But then, doesn’t that mean you aren’t as important to him as you thought? Because at his lowest, Griffith decided to seek comfort from someone else and not you. When you came to this conclusion, you decided you wouldn’t live for someone else again. Yes, you still love him. But you can’t forgive his actions. His decision put the rest of the band in danger and destroyed everything he built toward his dream.

What’s left of the band is planning a rescue mission. With Guts back, you know that the operation is guaranteed to be successful. You were going to greet him but hung back when you saw him with Casca. It seems you have a track record of having an interest in men who have their eyes on someone else. You pretend to not notice when they disappear together. Instead, you sit on a log and cuddle with Ember, who miraculously found you after your exile. Food isn’t as plentiful as it was in the capital, but he doesn’t complain. You’re thankful you don’t have to spend your nights alone again.

When Casca briefs everyone on the plan, you feel hurt that you’re not part of the group that infiltrates the tower. She sees right through you and shakes her head before you can utter a word. You bite your lip and nod, unwilling to make a scene in front of everyone. This small interaction catches Guts’s attention, and your eyes meet for the first time since he’s arrived. You quickly look away, missing the hurt that flashes across his face.

Everyone gets into their position, and all you can do is wait.

You don’t wait long. From the racket you’re hearing, things did not go smoothly as planned. Once the signal is given, the rest of the group charges into the fray. You see the bodies dangling from weapons, and rage burns inside you. It’s been a while since you’ve spilled some blood.

By the end of it, you’ve won. Guts managed to defeat whatever that monstrosity was. And for the first time in a year, you see Griffith—what’s left of him anyway. You wait until Judeau and Casca are done before slipping into the tent. You’re having trouble reconciling the Griffith you know and the empty husk in front of you. You stand in silence as you examine how a year of torture has treated Griffith. He has a helmet on, but you imagine that his face matches the rest of his body. The scars and missing skin make you sick to your stomach. What you worry about the most is when you overheard how Griffith will never be able to walk or wield a sword again. Flesh can be healed, but tendons cannot.

A gurgled noise snaps you out of your thoughts. No. You clench your fists. They didn’t take his tongue, too, right? You see those familiar blue eyes again, but they look dull now.

“Hi,” you rasp, waving awkwardly.

“I told ya I could handle this—oh. It’s you,” Guts cuts himself off. He glances between you and Griffith. “I was just helpin’ Griffith put on his armour.”

You pause and wait. When Griffith says nothing, your feared assumption is confirmed. “What did they do to you….” You move closer and crouch in front of him. He slumps forward, and his body leans against you. You inwardly curse at how light he is. You stiffly bring your arms up and wrap them around his torso. Guts motions his head to the wagon entrance, and you shake your head. Gently, you squeeze Griffith. The bandages feel smooth in contrast to his rough skin. You hear a quiet sob that breaks your heart. “Let’s get you suited up,” you say, blinking back the tears. You receive a slight nod, and it brings a smile to your face. So you assist Guts in dressing Griffith in his armour. A commotion outside draws your attention, and Guts tells you to stay with Griffith while he checks it out. You had no idea that it would be the trigger for a series of unfortunate events.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

You stare up at the eclipse. The entire field is washed in crimson, both with the blood-red light and your fallen comrades. How did it come to this? Do his friends mean so little to him? Do you mean so little to him?

Shutting your eyes won’t help. The constant screams and cries of your friends pierce your eardrums. The roars of the monsters as they tear into flesh and bone rattle your heart in your ribcage. And, oh god, the smell. The air is foul, and you can almost taste the iron on your tongue. You feel the bile rise up your throat, and you dry heave. The sour and bitter taste is more welcome than metal.

It’s not until half of your comrades are slaughtered that you realize nothing is attacking you. You’re kneeling in a pool of blood and carnage, and not a single drop of it is yours. Why? Why must you watch everyone get slaughtered while you’re the sole exception? The guilt claws at your skin. You ignore the feeling and glare up at the pillar of flesh.

Griffith is simply watching the chaos before him. His eyes are cold, and dread runs through your veins. You want to believe that a part of him feels remorse, that a part of him is regretful over sacrificing his loved ones. But you know him better than that. He doesn’t care so long as he gets what he wants. And he will never want anything more than to achieve his dream. The end justifies the means. Isn’t that how the saying goes?

Your eyes meet. You’re too far away to see, but you can picture the smirk on his lips, the way the right corner of his mouth lifts up ever so slightly whenever things go his way. There’s an indescribable anger that simmers beneath your skin, threatening to burst through your veins to make its presence known.

And you remember that it’s because you all mean so much to him that he’s chosen to sacrifice everyone. He loves you and still chose his dream over everything you built together. But why won’t he let any of the creatures harm a single hair on your head? You are a sacrifice, and he is choosing to spare you. For what reason? For what purpose? Surely he’s not narcissistic enough to believe you’ll still welcome him with open arms after slaughtering everyone? Or maybe he’s leaving you until the end. To finish you off himself. Either way, you are not leaving this world without taking that bastard down.

You don’t want—no. You refuse to look around the field. Because you don’t know what you’ll do if you recognize one of the mutilated corpses or mounds of flesh. You might lose it if you focus too much and spot what remains of one of your close friends. So where else to look but up? Up at the one who started it all.

A gasp tumbles from your lips when you notice a figure crawling up the pillar. You had forgotten that Guts was swept away with Griffith. Even now, he’s trying to save him. Bitter tears burn your eyes. You no longer believe Griffith is worth saving. What a colossal waste of your time.

You can do nothing but sit there as the river of blood turns into a lake. Every time Guts gets close to Griffith, he’s swatted away like a fly. Eventually, he plummets to the ground. To your horror, Griffith is engulfed in a white ball of light. The monsters bellow at the sight, waving around detached limbs and corpses. Entrails and viscera fly through the air, and the squelchy splatters send a wave of nausea through you.

Everyone’s dead. Oh, God. Everyone’s dead. And now you’re all alone. You look back up to see Griffith emerge from the light. At least you think it’s Griffith. The only recognizable characteristic is the beak-like helmet that resembles the armour he wore. He is covered from head to toe in black. The blue eyes you love getting lost in now resemble an iceberg; cold and deadly on impact.

The abominations that ignored you earlier now turn towards you. All your limbs are snatched and restrained. You scream and flail against their iron grip. Griffith descends from the large hand and waits as you’re dragged in front of him.

“Hello, darling.” Griffith’s greeting is anything but pleasant. He still looks at you with affection, but you’re no longer sure if that’s a good thing. You know there are some fates far worse than death. His hands are clawed at the tips, and the sharp points trail down the soft flesh of your cheek. You stiffen, afraid that he’ll slice you open if you move. “Terribly sorry you had to witness such atrocities.” His finger trails down your neck and along the slope of your collarbone. “Well, I suppose they were only minor inconveniences.” He shrugs and studies your expression.

“Those ‘inconveniences’ were your friends,” you spit out. He grins and grabs your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact.

“Friends?” Griffith chuckles. “Care to join them?” he asks, but you both know the answer. You feel his nails dig into your skin, fresh wounds stinging as sweat drips into them. “I didn’t think so,” he sneers when you remain silent.

“I believed in you. I listened to your promises. And for what?” Your voice cracks near the end as the tears trickle down your face. Griffith tuts and brushes your cheek, licking the tears off his finger. The grin on his face is manic. And for the first time in your life, you’re afraid of him.

“I hardly ever break my promises, especially to you, dear.” He strokes your hair, and how his talons scrape against your scalp raises goosebumps on your skin. He grins when you involuntarily shudder. “You are my scythe and mine to wield alone.” His eyes dart to the side. When you turn to follow his gaze, you see Guts fighting back a horde of monsters. You aren’t alone after all, but for how much longer? You can’t decipher whether you feel relief or terror.

The monsters release their hold on you, but some invisible force is still gripping you in place. You look at Griffith, and he’s staring at his hand with a curious expression. It’s the expression of a child that’s discovered a new toy. You attempt to wiggle your fingers, but your body refuses to listen. You grunt and can only move your head. A yelp escapes your lips when you’re turned around mid-air, and Griffith presses up against you from behind.

You watch in horror as Guts falters from your shriek and a monster clamps its jaws around his arm. He tries to behead the monster, only for his sword to snap in half. You meet his panic-stricken eyes with your own. His face twists with rage, and you hear Griffith click his tongue by your ear.

“Let’s give him a show, darling,” Griffith purrs. His tone is possessive as his hands caress your stomach. His gentle touch ends when he tears your clothes off. You scream and manage to move your limbs, kicking his leg in the process. Griffith grunts and a small smile flashes across Guts’s face before it’s replaced with worry again. “Acting disobedient, dear?” Griffith sighs with disappointment, and you freeze at his words. “I was going to be gentle, but a harsh punishment might teach you better.” The invisible force now feels twice as heavy, and you no longer have mobility over your limbs.

The breeze is freezing against your bare skin, and disgust rolls off you in waves. It doesn’t take a genius to guess what Griffith plans to do with you. But maybe this is what you deserve for denying him all those nights. You whimper when his fingers brush against your nipples. His erection presses into your back. Griffith lets out a low growl and draws blood with his sharp talons. This is not how you wanted your first time to be. Instead of candlelight and wine, you are basking in the light of the eclipse. The only red liquid around is blood. You begin to sob as utter helplessness consumes you. Griffith shushes your cries and nuzzles into your neck. You feel the vibrations when he chuckles.

Guts is still visible in your field of vision, and he looks furious now. You gasp when he takes his sword and severs his arm to escape the monster’s jaws. He begins running towards you and takes down two monsters along the way. But one of them slams into him, and they form a dogpile to hinder his movements. Guts struggles, but it’s no use. He’s completely restrained and can only watch Griffith’s twisted performance. You give him a grateful smile and close your eyes, resigning yourself to your fate.

“Did you ever notice how he would look at you?” Griffith questions, his talons digging into your hips when you don’t answer. He loosens his grip when you groan and shake your head. “He was one of my closest companions. You two are the only people I would ever consider giving up my dream for.” His hands travel down to your thighs. “But that doesn’t matter now.” He forces your legs to part, and you stifle the sob that gurgles in the back of your throat. “I hated the way he looked at you. He knew you were mine and still chose to keep his lecherous gaze on you.”

You open your eyes and let out a confused stutter. Making eye contact with Guts, you see a depth of emotions that you never noticed before. It makes the anguish on his face unbearable to look at.

“What are you doing?” you whisper. A numbness spreads throughout your chest like there’s a black hole sucking up all your emotions.

“Making sure the entire world knows who you belong to,” Griffith growls. Suddenly there’s a searing pain on your right inner thigh. The burning sensation rips a scream from you, and you nearly faint. You can only compare this to how livestock are branded with hot iron. Warm blood trickles down your leg, and you bark a bitter laugh, mind muddled from the pain.

“So now you want me,” you say, glaring at the ground.

“Don’t be like that, darling. I’ve always wanted you. The others were only a means to an end. You know that.” Griffith says and kisses your shoulder. It feels like a million insects are crawling underneath your skin, and you bite your lip to subdue the urge to retch.

“Is that what Charlotte was? A means to an end?” You can’t help but let your bitterness seep into your tone.

“Now, now. Let’s not be rude and forget our audience tonight.” You glance over at Guts, and he’s no longer struggling. He’s panting heavily with his eyes trained on your form. Frustration and fury mar his features. It’s a pity you never noticed his feelings earlier. Maybe you would have left with him when he asked, and you wouldn’t be in this mess now. “If I recall correctly, a punishment is due for your disobedience.” Griffith walks around you until you’re face to face. You don’t register the slashes until your abdomen stings and weeps with your blood. He hums and licks his talons. What is with this man and licking your bodily fluids??

“Fuck you,” you bite out, gritting your teeth to temper the pain.

“All in due time, my dear,” Griffith says with a salacious grin. You start to feel light-headed.

“You promised,” you say, blinking to clear the spots in your vision.

Griffith tsks, “Some promises need to be broken for others to be kept.” He says it like that’s just the way things are. No consideration of your feelings whatsoever. You’ve been labelled as collateral damage.

You build on your last point. “You promised you would never force me into anything without my consent.” Griffith has never broken a promise to you before. You desperately cling to that belief. Except he has. And if he’s lied to you before, what makes you so sure he won’t do it again?

“Think on the bright side. We’ll become connected as one,” Griffith purrs, eyes roaming your body. You feel like a piece of meat strung up at the butcher.

“You’re a filthy liar,” you snarl.

Griffith’s voice drops an octave. “Darling, I won’t tolerate baseless accusations.” It’s not a warning, but a demand for obedience.

You snort. That’s rich coming from him. “You’re a goddamn liar, and I fucking hope you rot.”

“You don’t mean that.” His blue eyes become glacial. “Tell me you’re joking.” His hands wrap around your throat. “Say it!” With just the right amount of pressure, Griffith can strangle you or crush your trachea. His grip tightens, but only enough to shorten your supply of oxygen.

“....” You concentrate on Guts and refuse to respond.

Your silence further agitates him. And then it finally happens. His focus slips for a moment due to his anger, but it’s enough for you to grab the dagger strapped to your thigh and drive it into his shoulder. Griffith lets out an inhuman screech, and you drop to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Air rushes into your lungs, and you hack out a cough.

“Just wait, darling. I’ll have you, even if it can’t be officially.”

The last thing you hear before you black out is the rattling of bones and the thundering of hooves.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

You wake up in a cave. There’s a faint light coming from the ceiling and the sound of water falling in the distance. Through the haze in your mind, you recognize that you’re in an unfamiliar place. You bolt upright, looking around to gather your bearings. There’s rustling behind you, and you whip your head in the direction of the noise. Startled, you scream when a girl pops up by your side.

She’s unphased by your reaction and smiles widely. “I’m Erica!” Her voice is bright and cheery. She hands you a mug, and you glance at the liquid with suspicion. The earnest expression on her face persuades you to take a sip. You sigh with relief when it’s water. Feeling parched, you gulp the rest down. “Are you Guts’s lover?” You choke on your last sip of water. Your throat burns from the coughing fit. “Cause I think you’re really pretty, and he keeps mumbling your name in his sleep,” she whispers conspiratorily to you. You turn to see where she’s glancing at and notice that Guts is lying not far from you.

He looks rough. You inhale sharply when you notice the bandaged stump at his side—fuck there’s one around his eye too. You hope he didn’t lose an eye. “Is he… ok?” you ask, voice scratchy from not talking for a while.

“Godot says he’ll be fine, and I believe him! Guts is super tough!!” she flexes her arms to exaggerate, and you can’t help but giggle. This kid is adorable. “But he did lose an arm and an eye. We’re not sure when he’ll wake up.” The graveness in her tone throws you off. “You must feel bad that he got hurt, but it’s not your fault.” Suddenly, her gaze makes you uncomfortable.

“I….” You stare at the small being in front of you. Since when were children so observant?

“Oh my god, you’re awake!” You turn your head to the cave entrance and try to decipher the figure jogging towards you.

“...Rickert?” You rub your eyes, convinced that you’re hallucinating. But Rickert pulls you into a hug, and you crumble in his embrace. All the feelings you couldn’t express during the eclipse come bursting forth. You cry for an embarrassingly long time, blubbering incoherently about what happened that night. He holds you and tells you about what happened to him and how the three of you are all the only survivors left of the band. He goes on to explain where you are and how long you’ve been unconscious. You’ve been unconscious for four days, recovering in an ore mine.

“Is there somewhere I can clean myself?” you ask. You can still feel the stickiness of blood on your skin, and surely you stink.

“Yeah, there’s a waterfall deeper in the cave. I’ll bring you a change of clothes.” He hugs you once more. “It’s good to see you again.” His smile is infectious, and you nod. While Rickert leaves fetch clothes, you head to the waterfall. Erica seems to have wandered off, so you have some privacy. You peel off your clothes and stand underneath the falling water. The pressure isn’t as hard as you expected. It’s almost pleasant. You scrub your skin until it’s raw and pink, but it doesn’t remove the stickiness or the smell of iron that lingers. You let out a frustrated groan and scrub too hard, breaking open the skin on your arm. The water stings as it laps at your new wound. But you just stand there, holding your arm out until you become numb to the stinging.

A hand grasps your shoulder, and you’re teleported back there again with him. You yelp and jump away, back pressed against the rocks. Your eyes dart for an escape route, and panic seizes you when a pair of hands grab your shoulders again. You thrash and cry out, freezing when you realize it’s Guts. You can only see the left side of his face, but his mouth is slanted in a smile. You bite your lip to prevent it from quivering.

“I’m so sorry. I thought you were….” You trail off, unable to complete your sentence. You hug your arms around yourself and avoid his gaze.

“S’alright. C’mere.” His right arm is open, and he’s waiting patiently for you to make the next move. You stumble into him and bury your face into his chest, apologizing weakly for getting his bandages wet. He kisses your forehead and holds you tight. “I get it, y’know? The whole bein’ touched thing. I, uh, had some things happen when I was a kid that made me hate bein’ touched 'cause it would always remind me of those memories.”

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.” You squeeze him tight, but it’s surprisingly difficult with how muscular his torso is.

Guts chuckles, but it’s bitter and hollow. “Yeah. There was a man who would… do bad things to me. And I couldn’t do jack shit ‘cause I was just a kid.”

“But you’re still here. Learning this about you… I think you’re the strongest person I know.” And you mean every word. Guts stares at you with a mixture of awe and adoration. He cups your face and strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“Wasn’t very strong a couple nights ago,” he mutters. You can see that he feels guilty. You also carry the same weight on your shoulders. After all, why did you get to survive while everyone else died? But you can’t allow yourself to be trapped by these thoughts. You need to figure out what to do now.

You pat his chest, feeling his heartbeat thrum against your palm. “I don’t think we should blame ourselves for that,” you say. “We had no idea any of that would happen.”

Guts shakes his head, pain etched into his features. “But I did. I knew somethin’ was going to happen. I heard a goddamn prophecy foretellin’ it. I didn’t think it would be a fuckin’ slaughter.” He rubs a hand over his face and sighs. You do your best to support his weight when he leans against you.

The moment is interrupted by Rickert, who clears his throat, holding your change of clothes. You thank him and walk away to change, leaving the two to continue their conversation. Unfortunately, the change of clothes consists of a single shirt. The shirt is enormous and swallows your frame, reaching down to your thighs. It’ll have to do for now, but you need to ask where the closest shop is. As you’re walking back, Guts dashes past you. You look at Rickert, but he only shakes his head.

A faint meow echoes through the cave. “Did you hear that?” you ask. You swear you catch a glimpse of orange by the cave entrance. Ignoring Rickert’s pleas, you exit the cave and follow the little paw prints on the ground. You walk through bushes and other foliage until you’re at the foot of a hill. Glancing up, you see a pair of cat ears twitching for a split second. Despite the dull pain in your abdomen, you trek up the hill. “Ember? Is that you?” You left him behind with Rickert and the others. From what Rickert’s told you, you’re not sure if the little guy survived the ordeal.

Another meow causes you to pivot around. There on a tree branch is Ember. You find comfort in seeing a familiar face. You coo at the cat to come down. And when he does, he weaves between your legs, rubbing his head against your calves. Something feels odd. Ember isn’t as vibrant as you remember. His body is almost translucent. A searing pain interrupts your thoughts. You see blood trickling down your leg from where Griffith marked you.

Ember hisses. You snap your head up, taken aback by the ring of figures surrounding you. The cat circles you protectively, hissing at the weird creatures. They make no move to get closer to you, so Ember eventually settles by your feet, guarding you. You remain still, unsure of what to do in this situation. The thundering of hooves draws nearer, and you hear Guts call out your name. He's riding on a horse with a skeleton? He dismounts and runs to you, frantically checking you for any injuries. He mumbles incoherently when he finds nothing.

You manage to hear him say, “I can’t lose you too.” You cup his face in your hands, smiling at this wonderful man. His posture relaxes, and he leans his forehead against yours. “I was afraid,” he confesses. “I was afraid I wouldn’t reach you in time and find you dead.”

“I’m ok. You’re ok. We’re both ok,” you state calmly. He nods, taking in a deep breath.

“How intriguing.” You don’t recognize the voice. The skeleton appears beside you, his eye sockets observing you with a scrutinizing gaze. “Yes, what makes you so special?” He leans closer, tsking with disappointment when you shrink away.

“I’m not some circus animal,” you huff.

The skeleton tilts his head. “No, but you are certainly more interesting than one. What about you keeps these spirits at bay?”

“Spirits? Is that what these things are?” you ask, eyeing them warily.

“Yes, and your little feline too. Although it’s quite rare for pets to linger. I’ve seen it with a dog before but never with a cat. However, a cat is not strong enough to protect you from spirits.” He scans your figure and focuses on your bloody leg. You are pulled away from Guts. Your shirt is hiked up to expose your thighs despite your shouts of protest. “Aha! The source of your protection.” The Skull Knight examines the symbol on your inner thigh with interest.

“That’s different from mine,” Guts points out. He traces the mark on his neck.

“Maybe everyone receives a different marking?” you suggest, failing to convince even yourself.

The Skull Knight scoffs. “The brand of sacrifice is not like a coat pattern. There is only one,” he remarks. You move to get away, but he has a firm grip on your leg. “This… this is something else.”

“If it’s not a brand of sacrifice, what is it?” you ask, wondering what would happen if you kicked this skeleton right in his rib cage.

The Skull Knight clicks his teeth. “If memory serves me correctly, this loosely translates to ‘side love.’” He finally releases your leg.

You laugh in disbelief. “Huh.” You tug the shirt to cover the mark, clenching the fabric in your hand. How ironic. When you decide to cut your losses, Griffith clings harder to you. He’s like a damn cockroach. You just can’t get rid of him. Your skin flushes hotly. How dare he mark you as ‘his’ when you finally decide to leave him. He has no right to claim you after betraying your love and murdering all your friends. The translation suggests that you won’t be the only one, and your thoughts wander to Charlotte. Of course, he always put her first.

The Skull Knight nods, tapping his jawbone thoughtfully. “Yes, I can faintly sense traces of dark magic lingering in your mark.”

“Well, how do I get rid of it?” you ask. The sooner you get rid of it, the better. You don’t want a constant reminder of Griffith permanently branded onto your skin.

“Perish, I suppose,” the Skull Knight answers. When you glare at him, he adds, “There is currently no known method to remove it.” You sigh. That’s just lovely. There’s a sour expression on Guts’s face, and you know you aren’t fairing any better. You’re potentially stuck with a reminder of your psychotic past lover for the rest of your life.

The sun rises, and the ring of spirits disappears. Ember remains, looking up at you with his big, green eyes. You scoop him up out of instinct and cradle him to your chest. You’re pleasantly surprised when you discover he’s tangible. It’s the same as if he was alive. The Skull Knight crouches in front of the cat, who pays no attention to him. “Extraordinary! It’s as if there’s some otherly force helping you retain a corporeal form during the day,” he says, but Ember’s disinterest is unshakeable. Dejected, he turns to Guts and starts a discussion. You don’t pay attention much, hearing a recurrence of ‘apostles,’ ‘demons,’ and ‘evil.’ From the determined look on Guts’s face, you have a hunch about what he plans to do.

The Skull Knight leaves, and Rickert and Erica appear shortly after. The two confess their worries over your lengthy absence. They went to look for you when you didn’t come back, fearing you would hurt yourself or get lost in the dark. The four of you head back to the cave with you and Guts trailing behind. Despite being a spirit, you can feel Ember’s weight as he drapes around your shoulders. You missed hearing his purrs.

Guts is lost in thought. You roll your bottom lip between your teeth as your eyes rake over his body. Almost all his bandages are gone. You’re sure every wound has reopened. You reach out and hold his hand. “Whatever you plan on doing, count me in,” you say. He looks down at your intertwined hands and squeezes them gently. It’s too early. You both lost a lot recently. The pain is still too raw for you to confess your feelings. But for now, you don’t need to say anything. In the following days, when he kisses your forehead, pulls you closer to him at night, or brings you hot chocolate to keep you warm, you just know he loves you too. So yes, the world outside the mine is a frightening place to exist right now. But you have time to heal, to spend time with this man you absolutely adore, and cuddle with your spirit kitty.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

End Note:

I did rush the ending a bit because I just wanted the damn fic to end lol, so sorry if it feels a bit awkward. I have not watched Berserk in a while and I didn't read any of the manga so my knowledge of what happens is a little foggy. I basically just read the wiki a lot lmao.

I wanted to try and set up this dynamic with Griffith where it feels like he loves you on the surface level, but there's this creeping feeling that something is wrong. I don't think I figured out how to execute that well in this oneshot, but hopefully I do if I ever decide to rewrite this.

I did struggle a bit trying to balance the fluff between Griffith and Guts. The one thing I especially struggled with was what to do with Casca. It's implied here that she dies in the eclipse because I honestly had no plans for her. I was not able to come up with any ideas for how to use her if she survives, but I still wanted her to develop a relationship with Guts for character development purposes. So please ignore that obvious plot hole.

I'm starting to ramble so I'm gonna cut myself off here.

I'll see you guys at my next hyperfixation! (。・∀・)ノ

Reblogs are appreciated!

#berserk #griffith x reader #guts x reader #fluff #angst with a happy ending #griffith/reader in the beginning #guts/reader is endgame #All the fucked up stuff happens mainly during the eclipse #Griffith is toxic in this #Reader is dense #gender neutral reader #no y/n #I know the title is stupid but I can't think of anything else

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wonlouvre · 3 years ago

Text

more for forever | k. mg.

pairing: editor-in-chief mingyu x female reader genre: fluff, a little bit of angst, cliché (in the sense that mingyu is rich and likes to spoil his girlfriend) warnings: mentions of insecurity, food word count: 2.8k

💌: this is just pure indulgence and i really hope you all like this! please wait for wonwoo because i have something in store for him too ;) again, this is cliché please forgive me. please tell me what you think about it hehe i love reading your comments, feedbacks and tags! also a big thank you to @minkwans for sharing their ideas and giving this oneshot life! <3

The name Kim Mingyu didn’t ring a bell before. Not until his executive assistant reached out to you because apparently, the photographer slash writer read one of your blog posts and wanted you to take part for their sixth year anniversary issue. You know the famous magazine and publishing company, which is why you thought it was a scam or a ploy to steal your money. It’s a stupid assumption but you can’t blame your mind imagining the worse because you are not a fashion blogger at all. Why would a fashion magazine want you to write an article for them?

Sure, you regularly write and post blog entries on your website. But you write about your dog, your recently bought tea coaster and sometimes your skincare routine. Okay, maybe your occasional outfit of the day as well but nothing in detail. Again, why do they want you to write for them?

Kim Mingyu answered your questions and uncertainties when he personally emailed his contact details to you. You didn’t have to bite, but it didn’t hurt to confirm at the same time. You dialed the number and he indeed proved you wrong. He invited you for a meeting at his office and you accepted.

Your visits to high-rise buildings, much more to the luxurious office of an executive, is rare to never. You were jaw slacked when your eyes took in the crisp architecture. The design, the furniture, the color, the everything was beyond what you could have imagined a publishing company’s headquarters could be.

The meeting was nothing but short of an interview. He asked about your blog (which does not even have its own domain by the way), he asked what else you write about, he asked about your desk job (which doesn’t pay much but enough for you to get by), he asked if you have any background about fashion and one last question about your dog, Max, before talking about his proposal.

To be honest, Mingyu’s offer was tempting. For one article, the commission would be enough for you to move out of your current apartment and move to a brand new and fully-furnished one. But you remained true to yourself and without thinking twice, you declined.

You can tell that the editor-in-chief and his assistant, who stood beside him all throughout, was surprised by the looks on their faces. But Mingyu respected your decision and didn’t pursue any further. You took your stand from the chair and sincerely thanked him for the time and opportunity. You thought that would be it but when he followed suit with your actions and reached his hand out, it was your turn to be surprised.

You didn’t hesitate to mirror him and shake his hand, firmly. After that, you’d figure that it’s the end and that you’ll probably get to see a glimpse of him only through your television or phone. But Mingyu proved you wrong once again when he sent an unexpected email three days later asking why.

What might be the reason why you didn’t accept his offer?

You believed he deserved an explanation of your personal reasons so you disclosed them. And just like that the conversation on that email thread naturally progressed and eventually deepened. The professional emails became casual text messages, the text messages became phone calls, and the phone calls became actual face to face dates at late hours of the evening because he usually clocks out at 9 o’clock.

The rest, as they say, was in the hands of history.

Your first date with Mingyu was particularly odd. It was at a traditional Korean restaurant owned by one of his friends who introduced himself as Angel even though his real name is Jeonghan. You didn’t question him or anyone else why because that’s none of your business. But back to the date. It was odd because you have never been to a restaurant that’s completely empty and dead silent before (aside of course, from the typical music played in the background). You asked Mingyu if such an occurrence is normal and he just plainly answered that he rented the whole place all to yourselves. You have always known he’s rich. However, you didn’t believe that booking the whole restaurant was necessary.

Nonetheless, that first date, in some way, was special for you because there were no distractions. You enjoyed his company and you can tell he enjoyed yours too because he’s quick to mention a second date and it didn’t take a heartbeat for you to say yes.

But, by far, Mingyu inviting you to the behind the scenes of the making of the sixth anniversary issue that you turned down writing for is one of the most memorable dates the two of you had. It was out of the blue and you two were having difficulty in syncing your schedules. He was beginning to get busier and busier as the anniversary neared and the only way he could think of still making time for you is inviting you to his office. He called you and asked if you’re free to have lunch together. And you, being attracted to the handsome and tall man, didn’t hesitate to say yes.

He was in the middle of ending his morning meeting when you arrived and you were almost caught off-guard when all eyes were suddenly on you, making you feel small. But Mingyu didn't care as his smile beamed, immediately standing up from his chair to walk towards you. The rest of his staff were still in the midst of walking out of his office when he grasped your hand to pull you inside and you have never felt so shy your whole life.

Since then, he made you tag along to the creative process and you witnessed how hands on he was with every article, every photo, every brand, every trend and every detail that goes to the magazine that he has built and loved with his blood, sweat and tears. He’s beyond dedicated in finding and doing what’s best for the magazine and most importantly, its loyal readers.

You can tell that he really is deserving of everything that he has and is still receiving.

Mingyu being perfect also applies to your relationship. He’s always present despite being booked with fittings, meetings, photoshoots and business travels twenty-nine days of the month. He never fails to call, never fails to answer your calls. He never fails to offer the warmest hugs and the softest kisses. Well, he fails to be on time during your dates sometimes but he never once stood you up and his cuddles when he sleeps over are enough to apologize for the lost time.

The only flaw he has is that he doesn’t know how to take no for an answer. Most especially at times where he wants to shower his love in ways that cost more than your paycheck in a year.

Here are some examples:

You know that Mingyu pays attention to every word you say. Even if you just mentioned a passing topic, he will do his best to keep those in mind. With that being said, you mentioned once that you want to renovate the extra bedroom of your apartment and turn it into a study where you could work someday. Your boyfriend, being the rich man he is, offered to hire and pay a team that could help you bring the design you envisioned into life.

That was during the first few months of your relationship and you were flabbergasted by how easy it was for him to do or much less say. Needless to say, you immediately turned him down and he respected that (but of course, he pouted about it like a child all throughout the day).

But wait, there’s more.

Do you remember how you mentioned that Mingyu travels frequently? Yes? Well, Mingyu always books an extra ticket for you just in case you want to join him. Sometimes it’s not even about the flight ticket anymore. It’s about him stopping by your apartment to pick you up unexpectedly as if France is only a drive away.

It’s unbelievable, really. That’s why you always close the door on his face. But of course, you don’t forget to give him a long kiss and “stay safe” or “I’ll miss you” farewell. Mingyu, ever the good boy he is, lets you win and just return your kisses a little longer for the days he won’t be able to do so.

Mingyu’s intentions are pure and you’re well aware that the man that you love is only doing this because it’s simple, he loves you. He wants what’s best for you, he wants to give you what you deserve. You can never blame him for being out of touch from reality at times, but you can learn and grow with him. Although of course, he still needs a scolding and a wake up call every now and then.

Anything else? Yes.

You didn’t take into consideration that he’d remember, but one night while the two of you were about to fall asleep, you sleepily mumbled about your dreams of attending graduate school. It was a mere whisper in the late night against his chest and you even thought that he wouldn’t hear you at all because his eyes were already closed. You honestly didn’t expect that he’d send you brochures of different universities who offer various programs the following day. You had to calm him down as he excitedly talked you through it. You even had to shut him up with your lips and explain that you don’t have the time to study at the moment with your current job. He tried to encourage you with praises and admiration of your dedication, skills and knowledge. But no, you didn’t buy it and that’s the end of discussion.

The gifts, however, are something that Mingyu is not giving up on. The first few instances he gave you gifts whether it be a high-end handbag, shoes, clothing, and even jewelry, you allowed him. Because there were only a few. But along the way, the gifts got bigger and more frequent. You had to sit him down to set limitations. It was a long conversation of him trying to get the upper hand. But you didn’t let him outsmart you with his hugs and kisses. It was either he was going to tone it down with the gifts or no gifts at all.

Sometimes, as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, you can’t avoid getting insecure and afraid that the euphoric time you share with Mingyu is not meant to last. At some point, the fact that he's one of the youngest successful editor-in-chiefs of a multi-million earning magazine got overwhelming. You can’t help but feel that you’re no match for him. And again, you hate that your mind gets clouded with ideas that you’re just a charity case he enjoys spending his money on. Of course, you believe that he doesn’t look at you in that way.

It’s you who thinks so.

“Hey.”

You release the bite on your bottom lip at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. Your lost eyes shoot to the stove where he’s cooking and you notice that he’s about done so you should set the table.

You didn’t even answer Mingyu’s call which concerns him. He wipes the sauce off his hands on the apron he’s wearing and holds your waist before you could even round the corner to the cabinets.

His warmth snaps you out of your thoughts. Your eyes blink up to him and he just raises his eyebrows at you.

“Is there something wrong?” He asks and lowers the heat of the conduction.

“Nothing, nothing,” you lie, shaking your head, “Let me get the plates. I’m quite hungry.”

You try escaping his strong arms and gaze, but he doesn’t let you go. Instead, he wraps his arms around your waist tighter. Your palms automatically land on his chest and the lean muscles make you gulp.

“I’m going to ask again and this time, I want you to tell me the truth,” he says in a serious yet gentle tone. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh and lean your forehead against his chest. Mingyu also sighs and kisses the top of your head. It’s better to tell him now because you’re not going to get anywhere if you’re just going to keep it to yourself. It will be unfair for him too and that’s not what you want.

“I just don’t feel so good about myself over the past few days,” you finally voice out. You sound weak, but Mingyu can hear you loud and clear. “I feel like I don’t deserve you.”

Mingyu had to pull away and hold your shoulders to search your eyes, his frown showing disbelief and sadness both at the same time. “Did I do or say something to make you feel this way?”

“No, no,” you quickly say and hold his cheeks. “You did absolutely nothing. It’s just all in my head.”

Mingyu becomes silent and you wish you could just drop it because the regret and embarrassment is slowly dawning upon you. You wish you didn’t bring it up anymore because why would you burden him with your problems?

But Mingyu proves you wrong once again by holding your hand and carefully tugging you to sit on the dining table, saying softly, “Come on. Let’s talk about it.”

And talk you did. You let out your concerns, worries, fears and insecurities. You bore it all without hiding or masking anything. A tear or two slipped once or twice and some words were interrupted by your hiccups, but Mingyu was patient. He listened and held your hand, promising you that it’s okay. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to be worried. It’s okay to be vulnerable in front of him. It’s okay to trust him because he loves you.

Mingyu loves you and his words and actions assure you that it’s okay to love him too.

When there were no more words left to say, the two of you shared a comfortable silence. The weight on your shoulders and the sick feeling in your stomach immediately vanished and you have never felt so relieved. You have never felt so free and loved. You can’t believe that Kim Mingyu is real.

“I know that this is unwarranted,” Mingyu breaks the silence after a while, “but I want you to know that I don’t think of you in any of those ways. To me, you’re the person I love and I am happy with regardless of our different upbringings, different jobs. Those don’t matter to the time and love we share together.”

“I know,” you affirm and kiss his cheek.

Mingyu nods and smiles against the palm of your hand when a memory suddenly pops in his mind. “I’m not sure if I have told you this already. But the blog entry of yours that caught my attention is about your first ever blog post.”

Your eyes widen at his confession. You have never heard of this before. “You mean the one where I talked about why I love writing so much?”

Your boyfriend smiles and nods. “That one.”

“Gosh. That’s so embarrassing,” you groan and palm your face.

“What do you mean embarrassing?” He argues, taking your hand to hold again. “That post was one of the most genuine posts that I have ever read. You explained, word by word, your passion, love and dedication to writing in the most honest way possible. Who wouldn’t be moved?”

You pout and unbeknownst to you, that makes his heart squeeze in adoration.

“It’s not that special,” you mumble, eyes on your intertwined hands.

“It is to me though.”

Mingyu’s eyes are dreamy and glossy as you meet them again and you could never be more in love. He holds your arms, coaxing you to stand up to straddle his lap. You giggle when he protectively wraps his arms around your waist. His nose scrunches when it grazes yours, but upon meeting his lips you feel it exhale a breath of relief.

You kissed and kissed and kissed. But when Max barks at the two of you, reminding you of the dinner you’re supposed to eat and share with him, the two of you burst into laughter before reluctantly detaching from each other.

“You doting over me with material things is a perk,” you humor him and he gives you his signature giggle. “But, I wouldn’t trade sharing the same bed, cooking meals or taking care of Max together over any of those.”

Mingyu nods gives you one last yet long kiss, a promise that there’s more for later.

More for forever.

---

a/n 2: this was supposed to be the header/poster of this story but it was too big lol

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inukag-archive · 2 years ago

Note

Hello InuKag Archive!

I was wondering if you had any good recommendations for paranormal fics? Tis the season for a good ghost story, after all 🪦

I also wanted to thank you so much for all of the work you do! Your recommendations have helped me find some of my newest favorite stories and writers.

Hello Everyone!

We made a post of general Halloween stories which included *some* ghost fics HERE but we are always happy to feed the need for more so here is a list of exclusively Ghost AUs!

Every Day is Halloween by @splendentgoddess (M)

Summary: As a kid I believed in ghosts, but adults usually stop believing in such things. I thought *I* had, until one Halloween when Eri talked me into some 'harmless fun' that changed my life forever. My name is Kagome Higurashi, and this is my ghost story.

Almost Tangible by KittyKatz (T)

Summary: A lonely mischievous ghost with a knack for trouble, a lonely outcast hanyou just trying to get on in life, an unsuspecting demon with long, luscious, tempting silver hair, a big house, a whole lot of pranks, and a magical wish. Mix it all together and what have you got? A quick, light-hearted story about acceptance and second chances!

InuKag Week 2020 by @cstormsinukagblog (M)

Summary: I guess this is no longer one shots. Everyone wanted this one story to continue. I hope even though I am killing myself to write so much this week that everyone is enjoying it.

Dancing Slowly In An Empty Room by @witchygirl99 (M)

Summary: When Kagome's life shatters before her, she's sure that she'll always be alone. What she doesn't expect is the ghost of a silver-haired, golden-eyed man standing in her library with a smirk, InuKag. Oneshot.

Desire by @keizfanfiction (unrated)

Summary: did it again. goddammit. this was completely unplanned, just like Loyal was, but the idea planted itself in my head and well. *shrug* this is from a ghost au that i have yet to write, but it’s in the works. sort of. anyway enjoy the rushed smut.unedited. because what else is new.for inukag-week day 4: Desire

Writing on the Wall by @absent-angel (M)

Summary: Inuyasha doesn't believe in haunted houses – until he actually buys one. Figures. A story told in bits and pieces.

Don’t Close Your Eyes by @witchygirl99 (E)

Summary: Inuyasha’s jaw clenched, but he answered. “A long fucking time. Centuries.” “Centuries? Plural?” “Did I stutter?” He was annoying for a ghost. Kagome was used to dealing with spirits that were easily distracted, not all there or simply stubborn. This was a whole new level.A centuries-old murderer broke the peace in the town of Horaijima. Special Agents Sango Houko and Kagome Higurashi from the Special Crimes Unit were there to investigate. But where there was death, there would always be death. The ghost named Inuyasha was very clear on that.

Ghost of Higurashi Shrine by @elkonigin (M)

Summary: After helping her grandfather on a regular, run-of-the-mill-excorcism-turned-blessing (it's better if you just don't ask questions, well maybe you should, Kagome didn't and look at where it's gotten her so far), Kagome finds that things, well, weird things, are happening in her home and around the shrine, in addition to some other places that really just don't make sense. Kagome doesn't consider herself brilliant by any means, she's barely passing as it is, but she's pretty sure that this mess isn't normal.

Ghost Hunters by @artistefish (T)

No summary provided. Tumblr exclusive Part 1 2 3 4 5 6

#inukag archive #ghost au #halloween stories part 2 #inukag fanfic #inuyasha fanfiction

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fireflykaizoku · 3 years ago

Note

Hey Lari!! How are you?? :)

Seeing as you’re my favourite writer for Killer fics, could i please request an NSFW of Killer with a Fem reader at a concert/festival with prompt 2? Thank you and I hope you have a wonderful day/night!! ♡

hellooo, my love! how are you? omg you have no idea how happy i got reading this (i'm still smiling and giggling aaaaa) thank you so so much omg i'm so glad you like them! killer oneshots are good for the heart ❤😭 ~sigh~ he deserves so much love

i also took longer to write this one bc: changed the plot a couple of times again :')

i hope you like it! ❤

When people announced a summer festival in your town, the first thing you did was message your boyfriend, Killer, asking him to go with you. It sounded fun, so the blonde agreed right away. It has been a while since you both had a date without Kid anyway.

Since it was summer, you decided to wear something that wouldn’t make you melt in the middle of the crowd. Shorts and the band’s shirt, perfect! You rolled the sleeves up and waited for the blonde to pick you up at your house.

When you got in the car, the man looked at you as if he had seen an angel or maybe something so divine.

— It looks good on you. — it was the first thing said.

— Thank you. — you smiled, a bit shy. His compliments and praises always made your cheeks feel warm and made you want to hide your face with your hands. They always made you so happy, though. — I’m glad you liked it.

There was something about seeing you in those shorts, fanning yourself or holding your hair up to feel the wind, that made Killer want to be all over you. During the concert, his strong hands were moving from your waist to your hips, rested on your lower back, and the blonde was incredibly close to you all the time. And when you placed kisses all over his cheek and lips during the most romantic songs, singing the lyrics while looking at him, made the man feel like he was in the clouds.

How did he get so lucky?

— I’m not complaining, but… — you giggled, getting in the car to go back home. — Your hands were all over me tonight. What happened?

— Nothing, it’s just… You look so… Wow. — Killer took another glance at you, now sweaty and a bit tired, but still so beautiful.

— You look very wow too. — you smiled, placing a soft kiss on his lips. — You always do.

On the way back to Killer’s house, the man’s hand was caressing your thigh while his face seemed a bit impatient, wanting to be at home as soon as possible. You arrived faster than usual.

Killer sat on his bed, about to change into more comfortable clothes, when you made an offer too tempting to refuse.

— I need a shower. — you said, making your way to the bathroom. You looked over your shoulder with a smirk on your lips. — Mind to join me?

You didn’t need to ask him twice as Killer followed you in a second. The moment he closed the door behind you, your boyfriend pulled you closer to him, not wanting to waste any more time. His big hands were quick to remove your shirt, caressing your sides and finally finding your back to unclip your bra. After getting rid of the pieces of clothing and exposing your upper half to him, Killer placed a passionate kiss, full of desire and passion. His tongue explored your mouth with an unusual eagerness and you tried to match his pace.

You helped your boyfriend to undress as well, revealing his toned chest, making you lick your lips in anticipation.

Killer unbuckled his belt, removing his pants quickly as you removed your shorts and soaking wet panties, tossing them to the other side of the bathroom, and turning the shower on. Your boyfriend removed his last piece of clothing, freeing his cock from the underwear.

The man entered the shower with you in a swift move, and pulled you into another sloppy kiss while your hand found his manhood. Your thumb softly caressed the leaking tip before tracing every inch of his hardened cock, feeling it twitch in your hand and feeling every vein.

— I want you. — you whispered, moving your hands up and down slowly. — I want you inside.

— Turn around, baby. — he whispered.

You did as told, back facing him as the water ran down your body. Killer rubbed his tip from your clit to your wet hole, coating his cock with your juices before slowly entering you.

— Fuck… — you whined, arching your back against his chest. — Feels so good.

Killer replied with a grunt as he saw his cock slowly disappear inside of you. Your tight pussy clenching around him, the way you took him so well… It was enough to drive the man crazy. The blonde closed his eyes, and his breath hitched as you moved your hips against his, desperate for more friction.

One of his hands had a tight grip on your hip while the other one found your clit, drawing messy circles and his hips slammed against yours, increasing the pace. Your moans and the sound of skin slapping echoed through the room feeling his cock as deep as he could. His skilled fingers playing with your swollen clit while his lips kissed your neck were driving you to the edge.

— Gonna cum… — you moaned, closing your eyes as your mouth was hanging open.

— Me too. — the man replied, trying to hold back his moans. — Cum for me, baby.

Killer increased the pace, feeling his own release approaching as your tight cunt pulsated around his cock. With a few more thrusts, your mind went blank and the orgasm took you over. You could feel your body tremble as the blonde kept thrusting in and out of you, seeking his own climax. It didn’t take long for you to hear a low grunt in your ear, making you shiver, and with one last deep thrust, Killer released his thick cum inside of you.

Both of you stayed in silence, breathing heavily. Your legs felt so weak, but Killer’s strong arms helped you to stay standing as you recovered from your orgasm. His lips traced soft kisses all over your back.

With his help, you turned around to face your boyfriend again. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you both shared soft and lazy kisses before actually starting to shower. It was a long night, but maybe you both could continue in the morning.

#n.sfw #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #op killer #massacre soldier killer #massacre soldier killer x reader #killer x reader #Summer Resort Event

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noavengers · 4 years ago

Text

apologize ⸝⸝ oneshot

pairings: zemo x avenger!reader

warnings: light angst

summary: it's been years since the avengers fell apart and you've finally decided to pay zemo a visit – to give an apology for what happened in sokovia so long ago.

word count: 1073 words

A/N: honestly, this is bad and i am so sorry. i got the idea and couldn't stop myself from writing it down.

// NO SPOILERS FOR TFATWS!

Standing in front of the bulletproof glass, nothing more then a glass wall between you, you knew the decision to come here had been the right one.

If nothing else, the surprised look on Zemo's face when it was you that walked into the cell was worth the long trip, possibly even the lies you had told your team when they asked where you were going. You knew your team well by now, even scattered and in pieces as the avengers were right now, some things never changed.

And while nobody would have tried to stop you from going, even if you told them the truth, you knew they wouldn't understand why you wanted to see him.

After all, the wounds of your team falling apart in such a gruesome way were still fresh in everyone's minds, the years doing very little in the terms of anyone actually moving on from what had happened that day in Germany. And you understood your teammates, on some level at least.

Even now, looking at Zemo, both of you silent as you stared at each other, the tension visible to whatever guard was looking at you on the camera, you couldn't help but wonder just how easy it would be for you to fall back into your old mindset of blaming him for everything that had happened.

But you knew better now, as much as it pained you to admit it, the Avengers had always been a fractured team, on the verge of breaking apart any moment, all the secrets and bitterness tearing you all apart until one day you just couldn't hold onto each other any longer.

After what felt like seconds in your head, but was probably much longer in reality, Zemo finally broke the silence, his voice snapping you out of your thoughts. "You know I was wondering when one of you would come here. I have to admit I am more then a little surprised it's you, I was half expecting to see the Winter Soldier when the guards told me I had a visitor."

You stayed silent, a tiny twitch of your lips the only sign you had heard him. This had all been so much easier in your head, locked away in the comfort of your home, just thinking about coming here.

But now, when it was all a reality, you couldn't even force yourself to look up, your eyes refusing to meet his as you forced yourself to stand still in front of him. That 'strong avenger' part of your braing unwilling to show just how nervous standing here made you, even the glass between you doing very little to give you any actual comfort.

You must have looked like a fool, your lips parting more then a few times, words caught just at the edge of your throat but none of them coming out.

"I'm sorry!", you finally blurted out, the uncomfortable silence finally forcing you to break and speak up.

If he was suprised by your words, you didn't notice, his eyes only widening for a split second, an almost manic grin spreading across his face. "Oh! And what are you sorry for little Avenger?"

He was mocking you, the word Avenger spat out like an insult, though you supposed he did see it as one. You forced yourself to ignore just how hard his words hit you, lifting your head in a false display of confidence instead, for the first time since you arrived getting a good look at him.

"I wanted to apologize for Sokovia, actually. What happened after that was awful and the things you did unforgivable-"

He cut you off, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "You really know how to apologize, must be the Avengers ego, making you believe that insulting me is a decent apology."

You found yourself biting your tongue, half tempted to snap back. Instead you just shook your head, your voice a bit harder then before.

"You know what? You're right, this has nothing to do with what you did but with what we, the Avengers did. And I know you don't care and my words won't change what happened in Sokovia, but I am sorry. I'm not sorry for stopping Ultron, in the only way we could at the time... but I am sorry for the way I left Sokovia after that, for not going back once the fight was over to help fix the mess that I was a part of creating."

This time Zemo did look surprised, and you couldn't tell if it was because you had said he was right or because of your apology. Or maybe a mix of both.

You were a little shocked by your words as well, despite thinking them over in your head for the past several months. Months ago, when you had first gotten the idea of apologizing it had been a much more general apology, a standard 'the Avengers are sorry for what they did but it was for the greater good' sort of apology. One that had spilled out of your mouth way too many times to really mean anything.

"If we are beeing honest here-", once again it was Zemo's voice that snapped you out of your head, embarresed to be caught spacing out twice already, "you or any member of your team coming there wouldn't have been enough."

It was the harsh truth of what he said that made you tear up. And what a pitiful sight you must have made, even the darkness of the cell not enough to cover the hurt expression on your face.

Zemo must have felt some pity on you because his voice was far more gentle then you could have ever imagined when he continued talking, "I am not trying to be cruel here. Your apology, while too late is appreciated."

And more then anyone else had bothered to give him, went unsaid but clearly thought by you both.

"But you must also know, that an apology, while appreciated, will never be quite enough. When people hold the power you and your team once did, making a mess and saying 'sorry our bad' won't change a thing, won't bring back a single person killed." His words weren't kind, but they weren't meant to hurt you either, you knew that.

So when only ten minutes later you left the prison, you left if with hope.

Hope for the future.

481 notes · View notes

captainaikus · 3 years ago

Text

♱ 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔡𝔦𝔞𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔡

♱ Pairings : Sanzu Haruchiyo x fem! reader (Haru are reader are 16 to 17 at the start of the fic, idway they’re 19, timeskip! Bonten! Haru x reader they are 27)

♱ Warnings : Violence, crude language and graphic depiction of blood (duh it's Sanzu), Sanzu being a sadistic shit in a way?, mentions of sexual abuse (but not quite elaborated just the threats of it), mentions of blood, mentions of suicide (on reader's end), mentions of killing people and drug abuse (cause duh it's Sanzu)

♱ Tags : SFW

If you don't like it, then don't read it.

Tone : Angst to fluff

Synopsis : After saving an unconscious boy from a gang scuffle, you learned his name was Akashi Haruchiyo. With your friendship coming to a turn and you leaving for the states, you made a final promise to him that you would always be by his side. Unanswered phone calls along with his disappearance for 3 years, yet you still continued to look for him. On a fateful day, you did run into him but not a way of what you had in mind. As you learnt more about Haru, you look back on your conversations and time with him. Was the really the Akashi Haruchiyo you knew or would you face the wrath of Sanzu that was secretly hidden?

♱ note : So I deleted the first part and had some time to kill... and I made it into a oneshot! And I do plan on working for a series, but that would probably be uploaded on ao3 or here, can't say... But anyway... Surprise cherubs! The parts came in early... I was gonna write some smut, but I just wanted to keep it wholesome. I hope you enjoy reading the new version of blood diamond! I will also be taking a break for a couple of days, but my next oneshot would probably be an idea I have for Fushiguro Megumi... maybe ଘ(˵╹-╹)

I know I will be back to edit this later.

Amount written : 6.9k words

Do not copy, repost or edit my works. That includes the idea of it too.

“Ne ne Kita? One of the students in our year was beaten up yesterday. And guess what” one of the students quipped.

“What what?” came eager voices

“It was by a gang” he excitedly replied.

“Ehhh maji?” The girl questioned in a non believing tone.

“I heard he was a second year which means he’s one of us. Goes by the name ‘Sanzu’. Even though he does go to our school, highly likely if we know him. He doesn’t come for class neither does he make an appearance for exams. Sounds more like a deadbeat gang member unlike the other loud pricks that roam around the hallways of our school” one of the boys in the group said.

“Looks like along with him the reputation of our school would also go down. Looks like I’d have to tell okaasan to pull me out early” one of the girls responded.

Hearing them, you remembered the discussion teachers were having in the staff room when you went to keep assignments on their desk. The number of delinquents had been growing slowly, eating away at the school’s reputation. The most notorious cases had been in and around parks and empty grounds at night. Thinking back to the teacher’s comment, you wondered why they wouldn’t be involved in the life of a delinquent. Sure, it was tempting to not live by the rules… but wouldn’t it better to have something consistent that’s worth depending on like an actual job rather than running circles, breaking the law and eventually running away from it?

“Oi errand girl” one of the boys called out.

Those three words were enough to break you out of your daze and brought you back to harsh reality.

“Go get me some juice” Kawasaki said. “Oh… and you’ll be paying for it” he added with a sinister smile.

Getting up from your desk, you made your way to the konbini which was the closest to school. Buying 8 drinks, you made your way through the lonely street. Turning around the corner, you could hear sounds of people fighting. Peeking from a wall, you saw a young boy with rose pink hair being beaten into the ground.

“Think ya could take us in one go ha?” the man straddling him said as he held the boy by his collar.

“Don’t fucking forget. You’re a Toman reject” he said as he carved into the boy’s with his knife while his other two henchmen laughed.

“Yametekudasai” you screamed as you ran towards the unconscious boy and the trio who pinned him down to the dusty floor of the street.

“Ha? Do you want to get beat up too lil girl?” He said with a sneer as he got up from the unconscious boy and walked over to you. Thinking fast you looked at the boy. What possible excuse could you come with in order to get him and you out of the terrible situation.

“Our sensei sent me to go search for him. He said he had detention after school and sent me to go fetch him. I promise you we won’t trouble you any further. Just give me the boy and I’ll be on my way” you said in a hurry, wiping the sweat away from your face.

“Hm… you think that is a good enough excuse for me to let you go?” He said before looking down at the bag.

“You’ll probably have to give me something else in return” he added with a smirk.

“You can have my money and the juice I bought. Just please give him to me. And we’ll be on our way to school” you replied quickly, opening the bag in front of him to prove your point.

You felt your skin break into a cold sweat. It was no rumor what these gangs were capable of and what they would do to an unarmed woman. You felt your hands shake as you held the bag out to the leader of the trio. The leader stared into your eyes and smiled widely as he breathed in the scene of your fear.

“Ayyyy not bad huh. I was gettin thirsty and I could do with some money too” one of his henchmen said throwing his arm around your shoulder.

“You take those. I wanna have some fun with this one right here” the perpetrator said as he snatched the bag from your hand and threw it to one of his henchmen. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you towards him “I’ll have fun breaking you”

The unconscious boy stood up, kicking the perpetrator at the back of his knees. Letting go of your hand, you grabbed a piece of wood that laid against the wall of if the alleyway and hit it on the face of one of his henchmen while the boy punched the other in his face.

Thanking your stars and relieved by your luck, you dragged the limping boy into the nearest store and hid behind an array of shelves.

“Did you see them?” The leader asked.

“I think they ran ahead” his henchmen said as the ran across the store.

After waiting for twenty minutes and feeling confident they were gone, you threw his arm around your shoulder and dragged him to the Nurse’s office at school. Luckily, there was no one there to answer as you called out for the nurse which made it clear that the room was empty.

Grabbing the first aid kit from the cupboard, you dipped the cotton in antiseptic and dabbed them around the corners of his mouth where there had been a lot of blood. Fucking psychopaths. Even though it was shallow and not in need of stitches, the wound would definitely lead to a scar How could anyone even think of hurting another person this?

Feeling tears come to the corner of your eyes, you put the cotton down and looked at his breathing chest. At least he’s alive. It could’ve been worse had you not made in time… but you’d till couldn’t help the feeling of sadness and what if’s that played in your mind. Staring at his uniform, you could tell he was from a gang. ‘Toman’ huh… you tore your gaze away from the golden ,enters on his uniform to his face, only to find yourself staring into his blue orbs. You gasped while taking a step back. Using his elbows, he grunted in pain.

“Don’t get up. And don’t try to talk either. I’ll be right back” you said as you ran out of the nurse’s office and made your way to the classroom to grab your backpack.

“Oi errand girl. Where the fuck have you been”

Maybe you could pay them back some other day. Pushing Kawasaki aside, you ran back to the nurse’s office to see the said boy sitting against the wall.

Taking the strawberry milkbox, you handed it to him.

“Drink this. I would’ve offered you my bento, but you can’t move the corners of your mouth. Liquid foods till your wound heals up. Meet me here during recess so that I can see the progress of it. And before you ask, you can’t come to the nurse cause if she finds out, you might be taken to the higher authorities and possibly expelled when they find out you’re in a gang unless you have money who are rich bastards at school like Kawasaki. Taking care of your wounds at home is something I don’t trust you with, cause you seem reckless and a person with rough hands. Besides, my okasaan is experienced in this. I’ve seen her do it multiple times with me as a child. Sl don’t worry…” you said with a smile.

“You’re in good hands. I didn’t get your name though… would you write it down here?” You said as you handed him your notebook and pen

With slow and steady movements, he wrote in messy Kanji

“Akashi Haruchiyo”

“Oi errand girl. Watch where you’re fucking going. My uniform costs more than your fucking rent” one of the schoolboys said as you were pushed into the shoe locker after school.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again” you said as you bowed your head down, eager to leave the place, not wanting to go attract attention towards the scene.

“Fucking pathetic” he said as he turned his back towards back towards you and continued to make his way to the hall.

Getting your teeth and clenching your fists by your side, you raised your head up. Taking a deep breath you opened your locker, taking out your outdoor shoes, ready to meet Haruchiyo at your usual place.

Stopping by the konbini, you picked up some soda and popsicles before meeting him at the dock.

“Why did you let him go?” You heard a voice near you as you were paying for the bill ont he counter before taking your bought goods.

“Haru! Bikirishita!” You said aloud.

Sitting on the dock, you took a sip of your soda before turning to face him.

“I see your scars have healed well… seems like my assistance isn’t needed any longer huh” you said with a sad smile as you gently moved back and forth to see the pale patches of skin that adorned the corners of his mouth. Your remark and gaze caused his line of sight to fall from your’s to the soda can that was unopened in his hands.

“What’s so good about them anyway? I could argue and say that it’s just skin… but I don’t like seeing a permanent reminder of how it is. Neither do I like it when other members of Toman stare at me for it” he said.

“I think they look like diamonds” you said as your eyes traced the shape of the scar.

“Diamonds?” He asked with his blue eyes widening.

“Yeah… like the ones you see on playing cards?” You said as you looked at him. Hearing a small chuckle, you nearly spat out your drink.

“Did you just laugh?” You said with a surprised expression. Your words silenced him and the silence was broken with the sound of the opening of a can. Feeling the breeze in your face and watching the sun set, you threw your head back and groaned.

“Nanda?” You heard Haru say.

“Ever wondered about what you’d want to do in the future?” You asked as you stared at the dark sky above you. Glancing at Haru, you saw him shrug with a casual “Betsuni”

“Hmm…” you replied back as you saw dark clouds pass through the night sky.

“Why do the kids call ‘errand girl’?” He asked suddenly. Taking a sigh you replied

“Okaasan works as a house keeper in Kawasaki’s house. Under contract, I was allowed to go to school with him. But apparently, my identity as someone’s daughter speaks instead of my grades and hard work”.

“Then why don’t you fight back?” Haru asked.

“Okaasan goes through a lot of hardships to earn our keep. I’m not about to let some stupid 18 year old with a silver spoon stuck in his mouth tell me how I should be when all he knows is money and being spoiled by his elders. Besides, it’s only of a matter of a year anyway before we go to university. Time flies by really quickly and I plan on becoming a doctor… maybe get out of the country? I want to be able to live a life of luxury… ever wonder what that’s like?” You said in return as you raised your hand to the sky.

“Must be nice to want something” Haru said as he gave a subtle smile towards you.

“The number of days you have is the same as stars in the sky Haru. Maybe once in a while, your chance would come riding on a shooting star, where you would know what you want. Until then, there is plenty of time. I’m curious to see what future Haru looks like though… would you continue to be ‘Sanzu’ or would you actually be ‘Akashi Haruchiyo’?” You said as you looked at him.

“Hard to say… you might end up getting what you wished for. Knowing you, you would tell me to have my identity, but knowing me for the past 18 years… I would follow Mikey wherever he goes” he said as he threw the can into the ocean.

“Haru don’t litter!” You scolded him. Chuckling, he stuck out his tongue while getting up and broke into a light run before turning back and smiling, indicating for you to chase him.

“Bakachiyo. Get back here!” You shouted as you got up to run after him.

“Who did this?” Haru asked as he grabbed your bruised hand.

“It’s nothing Haru. I just bumped on the kitchen counter on the way to school” you said as you tried to cover your forearm with your school uniform.

“For fucks sake (Y/N) I work in a gang. You think I’m stupid that I can’t tell between a bruise from an object and from a person?!” He yelled. Even though his expression was hidden by his long locks and a mask, this was the most angry you had seen Haru. He was usually calm with his composure and it was surprising to see him this furious.

“I’ll find the bastard. And I’ll make sure he pays the price for it” he said as he turned to the school exit. Grabbing his arm, you held him back.

“We’re only four days away from graduation Haru. Please don’t be reckless. I won’t let people remember you as a person out for blood. Please let them see Akashi Haruchiyo and not a member of an infamous gang. I know you have a change of heart when it comes to Toman… but can we keep Toman you aside from the other you?” You asked him in a small voice as you let your tears fall onto the marble floor.

“Fine. Until graduation. Till then, I’ll behave” he said as he clasped his hand with your’s.

“I have a place where we should go” you said as you pulled his hand, telling him to follow you. Reaching in front of the large building, you said with a laugh

“Tadaa”

“The mall?” He asked with a bored expression.

“Well… there was something I wanted to buy you. Think of it as a graduation present… but I needed to see if you would like it or not” you said as you stared at your shoes embarrassed.

“Surprise me” he said.

“What?” You asked while blinking at him.

“Surprise me”

“Open it” you said as you shoved the gift into Haru’s waiting hands. Opening the box and moving the butter paper, Haru eyes widened as he stared at the content of the box. Unfolding the cloth, he realized it was a scarf. It had the portrait of the king of hearts on it. The cloth was smooth and it had bright but subtle colors. Haru ran his hand through the scarf in admiration.

“Ahh… I hope you like it… it did cost me a fortune… but I managed it with saving my money and getting part time jobs. I’m sorry for missing out on the times we had Haru… I-”

“Kirei. Omae onaji da” he said as he chuckled. You shuffled bashfully at the compliment and felt heat pour out of your ears.

“I got you something too” he said as he held out a box in front of you.

Opening it, your eyes widened and your mouth left a gasp, surprised at the object inside the box. Pressing the back of your hand into you rough to muffle a choked sob, you picked up the stethoscope from the box.

“Why are you crying? Did you not like-” Haru asked as his blue eyes widened at your expression.

“No! I love it! This means so much to me Haru… apart from you and okaasan, no one really believes that I can actually have my dream. This means so much to me. I told you my dream just once and you actually believe that I can do it. I can actually do it. Do you know how much it means in the world to someone when they’re told they can achieve anything by someone else? I now have a permanent reminder of it. Thank you so much Haru. Every time I lose hope, I’ll remember to look at this on my desk. And if you ever need to be treated, then you know where to stop by” you said with a laugh as you wiped away the tears streaming down your face.

Pulling you in for a hug, Haru breathed in your scent, pressing your head into his shoulder.

“H-Haru?” You asked as you clung to his uniform.

“Will you leave me?” He asked in a broken voice, realizing that these were your last moments together before you left for the states to study.

“Never. I’ll always be beside you. Even though I am far away, I’ll be always be there when you need me the most” you said as you rubbed his back. He gently titled your face by placing his hand under your chin. Before you could question him, you felt your voice silenced by his lips pressing against your’s. Feeling his tongue danced with your’s you pulled his head back to stare at his beautiful blue orbs.

“Call me when you reach”

“The number you have called is currently unavailable. You will be directed to voicemail *beep*”

Sighing deeply, you’d eat your phone on your desk as you stared out into the night.

“Where are you Haru?” You said to no one. Haru had not picked up his phone in last 8 years. Yet everyday, you tried to call him. Making trips to Japan, you wandered streets in search of him, only to be yelled at the turned away by people. No one knew who was Akashi Haruchiyo. At the start of your shift to the states, calling Haru was easy. But soon, days turned into weeks, which turned into months and then a year. The boy you once knew was erased and no where to be found. You were broken from your train of thoughts but the sound of your phone ringing.

“Doctor. You have get here fast. It’s an emergency and we’re losing out on blood” Making a dash for your coat, you slammed the door on your way out of the house and revved up the engine of your car.

Reaching the hospital, you were shocked to find the door of the room the receptionist directed you towards to be torn off it’s hinges. Your assistant and a nurse were found dead on the floor and a hulking figure hovered over the unconscious man on the bed.

“I told you I wouldn’t let you get away. Bastard” he laughed sadistically. Squinting your eyes, you saw long locks of familiar pink hair.

“Ha-Haru?” You said in a shaky voice while grabbing a fistful of your scrub in fear.

The figure turned around, and your eyes widened at the sight of diamond shaped scars at corners of the said figure’s mouth. Trailing your eyes from his lips, you gasped in fear at the blood that stained his cheeks. Meeting his eyes, you saw a maniacal expression with his pupils dilated.

“Wh-wha” you said as you took a step back from him.

“Ah… you’re alive?” He said with a maniacal smile. Dropping the collar of the unconscious man, he moved towards you. Taking steps back, you tripped and fell to the floor. Haru stared down at you with a sadistic glint in his eyes.

“How… why are you here?” You asked as you stared up at him. Giving a deep chuckle, he dropped something on the floor.

“Don’t have time to play around right now (Y/N). Maybe we can have a play date some other time. This” he said as he stomped his foot near the object he dropped.

“Would tell you where to find me. See ya then!” He said as he walked through the hall of the hospital. Watching his retreating figure turn to the corner of the hallway, you looked at the object he dropped. It was a playing card.

Turning it over, you saw it was the ace of diamonds.

“Meet at the mall, Friday at midnight. Come alone or else there will be a price to pay - Sanzu” the card said.

Gritting your teeth, you clenched your fist and whispered

“Who are you and what did you do to Akashi Haruchiyo?”

“Did you happen to know the man who was there in the room with a gun? Pink hair, Blue eyes, scars on either side of his mouth?” You asked the nurses and doctors in the room as you crossed your arms and leaned back into the chair.

“He just told us to move. And if we got in his way, he’d shoot us” Dr. Miyamura said as he adjusted his glasses. Humming deep in thought you looked around the room.

“Tell me this. How did Haru find the patient in the first place? Who went to pick the patient up after answering the call?” You asked as you looked around the room.

“Are you trying to tell me that there was a traitor among us Dr. (Y/L/N)?” Dr. Miyamura said with a slight chuckle towards your question.

“Riddle me this. Since I was called on emergency regarding the patient, I wouldn’t know what kind of injuries they suffered. Highly doubt a gang member made a report cause when it comes down it, if the patient was a member of the gang and got hurt, they would’ve taken them for healing into their own space. If the member was a traitor, they would’ve killed him cause that’s what most gangs in Japan have as one of their unspoken rules. So, this proves the fact that the report was made by a civilian. Now what doesn’t make sense to me and rather leaves me unsettled is the fact of how the pink haired man came into a particular room of a particular hospital? Tailing medics in the van with the patient would’ve caused him to jump early and by now there would have been newspapers stating that there was an accident on the highway and people in the van were found dead” you reasoned and said these words out loud for everyone in the room to hear.

“So yes, Dr. Miyamura. There was a traitor among us” you said while getting up from your chair with force. Looking around the room, your eyes fixed on the cctv that was on the edge of the room. Smirking, you made your way out of the room and headed to your office. If there was a traitor in the room, they would’ve seen your act of looking towards the ceiling. Packing up your belongings including a taser, you made your way to the control room where recordings of people in the hospital would be there. You had to stay in the room till nightfall to make sure the perpetrator would appear.

It was nightfall when you found the footage. Going through it, you couldn’t see the face of the nurse, but you did find it suspicious that they were heading into an empty hallway only to find Haru make a scene at the entrance of the hospital mere minutes later. Hearing footsteps approach the door, you quickly deleted closed the file and hid away in the dark corners of the room. Hearing the click of the door, you stayed still, digging your hand into your pocket, holding the taser. The figure had their back turned towards you and were going through the files.

Making your way from the corner, you twisted their arm in a lock and held the taser close to their neck.

“Don’t move. Or I’ll have you tased” you said. Hearing a slight chuckle, you dug the head of your taser into their neck to prove your point.

“Talk. Who did you call?” You asked. Laughing the perpetrator said

“The person you’re dealing with is the most dangerous one from Bonten (Y/N) san” he said in a raspy voice.

“Miyamura?” Your eyes widened in surprise, recognizing his voice.

“Sonotori desu” he said with a chuckle. Hitting him at the back of the head, you made him unconscious. Dragging his figure to the supply closet, you dropped him on the bed near the window of the room. Switching on the lights, you pulled belts from either side of the bed and strapped him down. Grabbing a chair, you waited for him to wake.

“Ore… doko da?” Miyamura said as he blinked his eyes, trying to get used to the hazy vision that came with him being knocked out.

“Doko demo iie. Now tell me. Who are the Bonten?” You asked while standing near his bed. He threw his head back and laughed.

“You think I would tell you?”

“Kosuke. If that’s even your real name… did you happen to forget that I’m a doctor?” You asked lifting a scalpel. Dragging it towards the corner of his head.

“They say the head and spinal cord at the most sensitive areas of your body. But I’ll get to that after I’m done with dealing with your femur and groin since that this what’s the most valuable to man… Am I correct?” You whispered into his ear.

Dragging the scalpel along his clothed thigh, you cut the cloth. Using the tip to prick his skin, you said “I’m a doctor Kosuke. Blood and hearing a person yell comes with the job. Don’t confuse me for a psychopath cause that’s what your kind does” you said as you lifted the scalpel high into the air. Trying to break free from being strapped down, Miyamura’s eyes widened as your hands came crashing down with the scalpel.

“I’ll Tell!” He screamed as your hands stopped mere centimeters away from his thigh. Grabbing his face you said, “I see you’ve a made a wise choice. Now tell me what is Bonten and for long has Sanzu been a part of it?”

You felt numb and shocked to know how Haru had become over the years. Had he truly fallen so far as a human to commit such gruesome events? Pressing the button to your floor, you saw the elevator doors close. Being unable to keep your eyes open, you decided to take a nap once you reached home. It had been a stressful night with finding the perpetrator, getting information, processing it and calling the cops with a charge of hospital malpractice and breach of confidentiality.

Crashing on your bed, the last thought you had was about seeing Haru. You woke up later to the sound of your alarm. Turning it off, you stared at your screen ‘Friday 9pm’. Realizing that you had to meet Haru at theI mall, you threw on your shirt with jogging pants and a parka. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you accepted your fate of possibly not coming back after your meet with Haru. Taking your black cap off the hook, and your keys, you closed the door and headed for the mall.

The mall looked broken and empty. According to the news, there had been a blast in the very same place about a year ago and it would undergo reconstruction. Looking at the broken windows, you remembered the day you bought the scarf for Haru. Working part time jobs and coming late to your meetings with Haru brought a smile to your face.

“You’re 15 minutes early” a voice came from behind you. As you turned your head the voice said “Don’t you dare turn around. Not yet at least” with a chuckle “Walk up the stairs and go the store you bought my scarf. But before that, throw your phone on the ground”

Taking your phone out, you placed in the ground.

“Good. Forward march” he said. Climbing up the steps, you made it the fourth floor and went into the store which was once surrounded by scarves.

“You can turn around now”

Taking slow and steady steps, you turned around to face the man you once knew. Taking a seat, he gestured you to do the same. Sitting far away from him, you looked at your feet. Hearing the crack of a pill, you watched him sprinkle the powder on his tongue before throwing the dissolvable plastic aside.

“Are you a corpse or are you a person? I came here to talk ” He said as he looked at you. Taking a note of his complexion, you noticed bags under his eyes and pupils dilated. His skin looked a sickly pale.

“What happened Haru?” You said as you grit your teeth. Your question was only met with the crack of another pill.

“What do you mean what happened (Y/N)? You’re pretty fucking dumb to not see anything around you” he said with a dark laugh.

“Why are you being like this?!” You screamed. “After disappearing on me for eight years, not answering my calls or texts, is this what I get?! What the fuck were you doing all this time Haru?” You yelled as you got up from your chair.

The sound of a gun rang in the air at the end of your sentence.

“Know your place (Y/N). That was a warning shot. I could take your life this fucking moment and no one would be able to find you. Not the police, not your family either. You’re a numbskull for a fucking doctor. It’s even a wonder how a pitiful person like you even made it this far to find me. I’ve chosen my path (Y/N). Nothing you say can change that and neither can you fucking stop me in the future too. Wherever Mikey goes, I follow. Even if it is the darkest pits of hell” he said as he held the gun a few meters away from you.

“Bonten is what you chose huh… what happened to waiting for me?” You said felt tears sting your eyes.

You heard a cackle around the room at your question. Coming to a stop, Haru’s eyes were wide as he stared at you.

“That Haru is dead (Y/N). You’re even lucky that I let you live. Small fries like you are fish bait in godowns that were once a part of Bonten. If I don’t spare people who work under me what makes you think I’ll spare you? And then you talk about me waiting for you and being your lover” he said as he continued to laugh.

“The man I know is Akashi Haruchiyo. The man I once knew was a friend of mine” you said as you took a step.

“The man I once knew was saved by me from a gang. He calls me pitiful for being that way, but I’ll never forget that incident as long as I live”. You took another step.

“The man I once knew has scars on the corners of his mouth. He used to feel ashamed about them… but it made think of diamonds every time I saw them. It’s what makes him even more beautiful”. You took another step.

“His baby blue eyes would shine anytime I said they looked like diamonds… I remember the day he got protective over me. He saw my bruised hand and scolded me for it. He threatened to find the boy who hurt me and kill him. But I said no. That day made my heart skip a beat and I realized that I couldn’t see him as a friend anymore… but I kept it all in” you said as you moved your foot forward to take another step.

“Stop right there or I’ll shoot” he said, placing his finger on the trigger. Taking slow and steady steps with shaky breaths you said

“On the day we graduated, he told me to surprise him with a gift I wanted to give him. I got him a scarf which would hopefully remind him of me. He got me a stethoscope. Even though I told him only once I wanted to become a doctor, he remembered it. It’s a gift I would never forget and it sits in a case in my office. He helped me save lives of people even though I was far away and he was here. With the last kiss he gave me, he told me that he would wait for me. And I promised I would be beside him” you said as stopped at gunpoint.

“But little did I know that the man I love was stuck in a hellhole while I was away. Abusing drugs, killing people and living his life where each day could be his last. It hurt me so much that the man I love is taking lives away and is happy to see his hands coated in blood of innocent people while my hands are the same, struggling to save their lives in an operating room. It hurt me so much I couldn’t breathe when I saw him standing over an unarmed man, ready to take his life like it was snatching candy from a child” you said as you pressed your forehead against the gun.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you Haru. I’m sorry that you are this way when I should’ve been there to save you. I should have been there to stop you. Even though you were under Mucho-san, according to what Miyamura told me, I’m equally to blame for being unable to pull you out of it cause I made a promise that I would be by your side. But I broke a promise and people paid for it. Ne, Haru, can I ask you one last thing before you decide?” You said as you held his hand with the gun as tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Have you ever thought of me from the years that went by? Have you ever thought about finding me as much as I tried finding you?”

Your question was again met only with silence.

“You’re still very handsome Haru. You’ve aged quite well from a boy I once loved to a man I still love and would go to the ends of earth for. I would have loved to spend time with you, but my time is up. I looked at myself in the mirror once last time knowing that there was a possibility of me not coming back in one piece. I’m glad though… and now that I’ve seen you and I’m happy you’re alive, I don’t really have anything left. You were the only friend I made in school and Okaasan isn’t there anymore… colon cancer took her away from me. I tried telling you this years ago… but after your silence, I realized how lonely I had become. Children would come into my office and grab candy from the bowl I keep …and that gave me joy… but there was a feeling of emptiness cause everyday I would hope. That you would burst through my office door and take me the dock with sodas from the konbini… but this is how we meet. I really want to go back to those times… but no matter how I hard I try I know I can’t. So what’s the point anymore? And you’ve made up your mind about not needing me anymore…” you said as your tears hit the floor while you pressed your forehead into the mouth of the gun.

“I can’t be vengeful… I can’t be angry. If only I stayed and saved you from falling into all this. Even though I hate so fucking much point I want to slap you, my love for you would always be stronger which is why I’m holding back” taking a deep breath you sniffled.

“Aishiteru… Son'nani. I’ll be waiting for you on the other side” you said as you pressed the trigger of the gun with your finger pressing into his.

*BANG*

You felt a pain on your shoulder. Opening your eyes, you saw turned around and saw the bullet lodged into the opposite wall. Looking down at your arm, you saw blood stream from your wound.

“Are you fucking idiot?!” Haru screamed. Staring at his face, you could see his eyes bloodshot and tears flowing down his chin, falling onto the tips of his leather shoes. Turning your head, you saw his hand shake while holding the gun.

“Haru?” You said in a shaky voice.

Dropping the gun, he pulled out the scarf in his pocket and wrapped it around your bleeding shoulder tightly. Tying the cloth into a knot he pulled you into him by the end of the cloth strings. You could feel his form shake against you as he held your head, nuzzling it into his chest while his other pressed your back against him.

“How fucking dare you. How fucking dare you pull shit like that!” He screamed as he cried. Using your other hand, you rubbed circles into his back.

“Did you really want to go into an early grave? You think I could handle seeing you as a corpse? Huh?!” He sobbed as he pulled at your parka. “Drugs are only way I can see you. When I’m sober, reality hits like a fucking bus knowing that you’re not there. Having Mikey so broken that he turns his back when I shoot people makes me think about you. And it hurts. It hurts so fucking much knowing how disappointed you would be with me. I even killed fucking Mucho. I feel like I’m going insane (Y/N). I thought about you every day, dove. Every fucking day” he said as he pulled back. Staring into your eyes, you could see how red and angry they were. Taking your cap off and looking at you clearly, he feel to the floor and pulled you down with him. Pulling you into his lap, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against yours. Taking shaky breaths, he t go of your parka and held your face to make himself realize that you were here and you were real. You could hear his grit his teeth and let out a voice of pain.

“Were you really happy about dying? Were you going to leave me with telling me how much you love and not hear a fucking reply back? Did you really think I was gonna kill you?” He asked in a broken voice as his shoulders shook from violent sobs that racked his body.

“I didn’t want to see a world with you painted in red Haru. I knew what you were getting yourself into when you decided to join a gang and it was common at the time. But heinous crimes? Murder? Prostitution? Smuggling? Were those the heights you were aiming for? How did I not see all this? How… how did I not know about all this. Putting me out of my misery sounded more easier than living with the regret that I am to blame as well” you said as you felt your shoulders relax and your grip on Haru become loose as you let it fall to your side.

Taking your hands into his, he softly kissed the tip of each finger

“I might be a selfish man. But I’m not that selfish to keep you away from your calling. Saving people was your’s. Getting rid of them was mine. You don’t have to feel responsible about what I do. I chose to follow through with it. You gave me an alternative years ago where you asked me what I’d want to do going ahead. I had plenty of time to think about it. And going with Mikey is what I chose. You don’t have to take the blame Dove. If anyone is to blame t should me. I didn’t tell you where I went, if I was alive… I was just satisfied about you crumbling on your knees when you couldn’t find me. I thought it would teach you your lesson to be involved with me. Thought I would scare you off. But looks like it only led to you wanting to die by my hands” he said as he sniffled.

“I wouldn’t be able to bear it if I found my hands red with your blood dove. No matter how many drugs I take. No matter how many drinks I have. No matter how many people I kill. I wouldn’t be able to erase the thought that you weren’t fucking there anymore. Having you far away from but still breathing was enough to let me know that I can survive without you. You mean so much to me. So fucking much p” he said as he leaned in to kiss you. You could feel passion flow through him as you he tilted your head back and held you gently by your throat. His thumb moved in shooting circles on your pulse as hummed into the kiss.

Pulling back he rocked you back and forth into his figure while kissing the crown of your head.

“(Y/N)” he said breaking the silence.

“Hm?” You asked in a muffled voice.

“Aishiteru. Ore no diamond no joō”

There were a lot of things to be settled and said that night. But it could wait. The only sound you needed was of his heartbeat. It was enough to know he was with you and you had never felt more alive.

Looking down at you as you nuzzled into his chest, Haru felt his lips turn into a soft smile. When he was around you, there was no Sanzu. He was just… Haru. Your diamond in the rough… your, Haru.

Bonus : "I got your scarf dirty"

"Doesn't matter. Person who gave me the scarf is alive and that's the real pill"

"Don't use me as a drug reference. My shoulder will scar though... bye sleeveless shirts"

"You look beautiful in every way dove. Wasureruna"

Ne ne Kita? : Hey, Hey did you hear?

maji? : Really?

okaasan : Mother/ Mom

konbini : Japanese convenience store

Yametekudasai : Please stop ( and not in that tone ya pervs =_=)

Bikirishita : You surprised me

Nanda : What

Betsuni : Don't really know/ care

Kirei : Pretty

Omae onaji da : Same as you

Sonotori desu : That's right

Ore… doko da : Where am I?

Doko demo iie : Wherever, you're fine (in this reference)

Aishiteru… Son Nani : I love you so much

Aishiteru. Ore no diamond no joō : I love you. My queen of diamonds

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spectralscathath · 2 years ago

Note

1 and 10 for Devil and the Huntsman?

oho, now this is an interesting choice~ (under a readmore because true to form I ramble the second I get to talk anything literature)

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

Okay so I'm not entirely sure what this question is asking but I'm going to answer what I think it's asking. I basically wrote this long oneshot in what I call my Gothic Style of thought process, slightly different to my usual sense of prose that I use for most other oneshots/longer fics, though I think the differences are a bit hard to see, it's more of a General Vibe, and the reason I wrote it this way is because of the whole setting and subject matter.

Make no mistake, this fic is one of my darkest oneshots out there. General trigger warnings for anyone who hasn't read it yet, this fic contains very frank discussions/implications of sexual assault (nothing explicitly shown but its There), abuse, mental torture, imprisonment, forced marriage, and what I would consider a touch of tasteful gore though your mileage may vary on that one. And yes, Salem causes all of this, because she is Literally The Worst (fascinating character, absolutely evil, lots to explore)

Because I was writing it in my Gothic Mindset, I tried to make the atmosphere of the piece (not the subject matter) as tempting and alluring, as it was deeply messed up, because that kind of weird mix of beauty and horror builds a sort of tension in the words that is my absolute favourite thing about writing horror. Because when that tension breaks, and when the bad stuff happens, it's another layer of contrast. And, I hope I got this across, also a strange catharsis.

And that energy, that contrast of artistic intrigue to explore dark topics, that is often what makes good horror to me. That is Dracula, that is The Thing, that is Alien and The Colour Out of Space and The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde to me. That is Salem to me. That is what I want to bring to the table whenever I write her. Because Salem is a monster, a very regal, graceful, and elegant monster, but a monster nonetheless. And having her take the idea of classic romantic literature tropes and twisting them into a nightmare for James, just seemed fitting. My intention is not to romanticise the horror, but to horror-cise the romantic, so to speak.

James I'm so fucking sorry I'll make it up to you in Antares, I swear

10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?

Ah yes, Irondeath, Ironwood/Salem, definitely not a first choice of pairing most people would think of. Mostly it started because someone I knew used to make jokes about it, and the idea just sank into my head as 'what-if'.

And, I mean, it kinda works? Catch me watching that volume 7 scene which is the one and only time they fucking talk (i loathe you crwby) and their personalities clash in such a fascinating way. Salem is at her scariest when she's kind, and Ironwood is so strong-willed, I just think it would be a fascinatingly toxic dynamic to explore. And so I did! Also, contrasting aesthetics that still look great together? yes please. and they both had the best vocal performances of the atlas arc like go off king and queen we love to see it

#asks #rwby

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bottledemotion · 4 years ago

Text

Our Twisted Faith (Soulmate AU Headcanons w/ Scenarios)

- Reverse soulmate au where the words written to ur skin is ur last words to them.

- Pairing: Zhongli X g.n reader,

- 3.9k+ words; Rated T

- warning/s: angst, character death

- A.N: This was supposed to be a full on oneshot fic but I can't fully write most of my ideas rn so I decided to list all of those (hcs or not) instead and write certain scenarios I thought off. Ngl, I have a hard time writing them in character, most of all when they're still not much accustomed to their emotions/feelings, so forgive me if they might come out OOC to you.

- For as long as he can remember, soulmates exist before the Gods.

- Before the ashes rise and form their body. Before the letters mold to create their name and have been spoken in unfamiliar languages. Before their feet take a step forward to their world, the concept of soulmate is already there. Watching, guiding and toying everyone's faith like a marionette doll.

- Which is why they also have a soulmate waiting for them.

- You could say that this is the 'only' similarity between the humans and gods hold. But unlike humans, the Archon's soulmate existence is different from the humans. Some of the Archon's other half doesn't exist even after many eras have passed.

- And one of them is Morax.

- Morax sees this concept as another form of contract. A contract that unified both individuals that both parties will benefit happiness, be it through the present and beyond. Yes he's aware that there's no 'consent' nor knowledge to both parties about this. But they can talk more about this once they meet.

- And maybe, just maybe, the contract will be fully formed.

- For an Archon who is known for being an emotionless, merciless god who slaughtered countless innocents in order to fulfil the contract. He also craves the feeling of happiness, everyone does, no matter how many times you deny it.

- he won't admit that this is also one of the similarities that human and gods hold. For human are way cruel than Archons above, cruel in their own way.

- So he waited for them. He studied the concept and terminologies about soulmates. To learn more about the contract so he can come prepared when the time comes for them to meet.

- He found out that there are many ways to find your soulmate. Be it through a time limit or name written on their skin, eyes that can only see the color of their other half eyes and many more.

- He found out that soulmates don't have to be romantic, it can become platonic and enemies as well.

- At first, the possibility of his soulmate being his enemies for life might happen. He's so used to betrayal and the blood that stained his hands, be it in or out of contract. But whenever his amber eyes gaze at the words written on his right wrist, be it through his dragon or human form, he can't help but be at ease and that everything will be fine.

- But those thoughts shattered when he found something through his learning. Something deep and brutal that he can't help ask why life has to be this cruel than it already was.

- Reverse soulmate. Sweet but deadly, bittersweet if they may. Yes you have and met your soulmate, but your faith with them is not beautiful to watch it bloom. This is a very rare occurrence for someone to have.

- And one of them is had to be him

- Because there, on his skin, he found out that the words written will be the last thing his soulmate will say to him before dying. Written in (F/c) with warm yellow star dust that glows in the dark sprinkled on the words. The words it said directed to him when his lover slowly disappear on the world is

- "I love you."

- He can't help but ask if this is a divine punishment given to him for all of the things he had done.

- He faced many enemies. Many betrayals. Spilled blood that became the exact same colour of his scales, be it through his claws or hands. Known as the God of wars, God of contracts to many. Yet he can't face this future that might will ruin him.

- But a contract is a contract, no matter if it's fully formed or not, it is still a contract. And as a God of Contract.

- He must fulfill his part and duty.

- From dusk till dawn, he waited for his soulmates to step foot on the world. Even after many eras had passed. Even after a war broke out. A nation had fallen. Blood had spilled and stained even the glaze lilies he adored watching so much with someone. Many bodies, comrade or not, loved ones or not, had been fallen along the betrayal and salt on the ground and buried deep down on the grounds. He continued waiting.

- And during his wait, he met someone along the way.

- A traveler who stumbled themselves on his nation. A traveler whose heart is weak but eyes shine, full of energy. A traveler who's spending their remaining time traveling around the world instead of looking for a cure to their condition.

- And a traveler who the very first time, just sat next to his statue.

- At first, Morax grew curious. It's not everyday to see a mortal walking to his nation without looking or asking for something for him to gain despite the obvious need from it.

- maybe that's what get his full attention when his amber eyes first landed to the traveler

- So he watched them from the statue on where they accompanied him. Silently accompanying them on their last remaining days on the land. He watched the travelers' bright (e/c) eyes watch the clouds part ways on the sky until it slowly turn to a sea of stars at each seconds passed by.

- Each day has passed. Watching them from the distance that are so close yet so far away, he noticed little things about them.

- He noticed how quiet yet soft their voice is when they hum under their breath. How the light of the sun and moon compliments their (s/c) skin. How tempting to run his fingers to their (h/l) (h/c) hair that dances with the air every time the Mondstadt Archon, Barbatos, caresses it with the wind, silently accompanying them from time to time like what he's doing.

- It's quiet yet peaceful. It's a sudden change that's somehow refreshing and comfortable. He didn't expect to feel this light feeling again after everything that had happened in the past. It's perfect but at the same time scary. Change never last, it always continue to change no matter how many time it occurred.

- And he was right when one day the traveler finally spoke to him.

- And it is a question he never expected to hear from a mere mortal

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

"Are you tired?"

'Tired from what?', is what he wanted to reply but immediately remembered that the traveler didn't know that he's there beside them, listening and accompanying them on every tick of the time.

"Bound by the contracts you agreed on. Chained to your duties, responsibilities and even guilt that you hold on your shoulder. Never taking a break from it and instead keep moving forward no matter how heavy those burdens you carry it all alone despite the people who worship and swore to protect you and the city are all around you."

He heard them take a deep breath and continued.

"You've already finished your duties to your land, did you ever think or ask yourself to call it a day and take a rest?"

Morax breath hitched at the words. And a memory immediately played on his mind.

He remembered he was strolling along the harbor when he heard a merchant tell one of his workers, "You've finished your duties, go ahead and call it a day."

He remembered he stood motionless among the sea of crowds as soon as he heard those. From there, he asked himself, "Have I already finished my duties?"

From there, no one answered his question

"Bearing it all alone...Aren't you tired and lonely from it?"

Even though the traveler never expected a response from him, he can't help but whisper his answer and hope-

"Yes."

-for the wind to let them hear his loneliness.

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

"I guess I can say I relate to you. Being tired I mean."

Morax slowly opens his eyes and turns his way to you. It's one of the days where you suddenly talk again after days of being quiet and just be in peace which he didn't mind one bit.

He didn't know how it happened. The peacefulness in this place and between you is another sudden change that he didn't mind one bit. It became his sanctuary. Free from the titles he holds, free from duties, free from responsibilities.

Or maybe just being by your side is a sanctuary to him.

He slowly shakes his head and turns his attention back as soon as your timid voice reaches his ears.

"From my entire life, all I feel is pity and hesitance to be closer to me from others. I can't blame even them. Who would want to be friends to someone whose death is waiting on their doorstep?" You said with a humorless laugh

'I would.' he wanted to say but remain silent instead.

He saw you hug your propped up knees and draw them closer to your face, hiding your beautiful face from his eyes and to the world.

"I accepted my faith that I won't last from this world. I'm so tired of being treated like a fragile glass that will be broken at any second. All I want is to live my best from it and maybe have someone to share those experiences with me till my last dying breath."

He saw your grip tightened to both of your knees

"I wonder....what it feels like....to have someone treat you like a human than a fragile doll...."

He noticed your voice getting dimmer and dimmer at each word you spoke.

"Do you ever wonder what it feels like...to be not alone anymore?.."

No words came out from you after that. Only the wind and your silent cries comfort both of you after the one-sided talk.

He didn't know what to do. How to fully remove the pain and burdens on your shoulder and heart when he didn't know how to ease his in the first place? Despite many people's proclamation that a God can perform a miracle without limits, not all God can do those. Not everyone is known as a God of Miracle.

Not Barbatos, not him.

In the end, they're a God with limitations.

But the one thing he knows is that he can't help but want to feel it too. To have someone by his side again. So why not both of you experience it together?

If he can't destroy the burdens you both hold, both can help ease each other's burden instead.

This will be the first time he did something out of will and no contracts involved

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

- So after that, he starts walking around in Liyue in his human form. The one he used a long time ago that was now carved into one of the Seven Statues but with little changes.

- Everything about his appearance remains, even the tattoos on his arms and the amber tips from his long dark brown hair that glows whenever he uses his Geo powers remains there. The only difference is the way he dresses. Instead of his typical white robe with a hood and long wide pants, he now wore a long dark brown coat with silver shoulder pads, tassels, and a diamond symbol on the back. He also wears gloves to hide his arms with a silver ring on his right thumb. He also wore a formal dark gray shirt underneath his coat, black pants and leather shoes and a tassel earring on his left ear.

- Meeting the traveler again with his human form was easy. He also didn't take that long for them to befriend them. The only problem to the befriending part, is the name he'll use to this era.

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

He did not think this through.

He can feel his human hands from his side start to sweat under the gloves. His amber eyes refuse to stare back to your bright ones as soon as you ask him a question that he forgot to think through."

"What's your name?" Is what you asked from him.

A simple question that can be easily answered, but if you asked that question to a God, it's one of the hardest questions they ever heard. Stepping fort to his nation in a new era after years already passed, he must think of a name that'll be different to the one's he used to own in order to avoid confusion and misunderstanding. Who knows, he might encounter people who are still aware of the old names he used.

For an immortal Archon who can mold themself to different forms, humans or not, make money itself from his own hands and submit mortal beings, thinking up names is not his forte.

He can feel your stare burning from his entire being, waiting to answer with a smile.

And he almost did not surpass the shiver that wants to crawl itself out from his body.

He slowly turns his eyes back to you and immediately regret it. Your bright (e/c) eyes greet his amber ones, eyes full of anticipation, and happiness to probably making a new friend.

He can't help but cleared his throat to have a reason to turn his eyes away to you

"It's...." He started and darted his eyes around them for something, anything to use of a name to this era.

"Try our new food from the Wangmin Restaurant!"

"Chop Suey!!'

"Try betting your luck on jades?"

"Why don't you try checking out the Chungli store stand near Wangshu Inn?"

His eyes lit up to one name, it's-

"Chungli." He said with a straight face

He watched you turn your head to a side "Chungli? Isn't that a store at Wangshu Inn?"

He mentally facepalmed. Of course you're aware about that because you're a traveler. But it's normal to name your child in your store right? He decided that he'll use that name, for now.

He opened his mouth. The confirmation is on the tip of his tongue but it got cut off when you immediately gasped loudly, making him step away from you with mouth still hanging a bit open and amber eyes widened and staring back at yours who's also wide but not from shock, but from....realization?

"You meant Zhongli right?!"

He immediately closed his mouth. Zhongli. Huh, the name is not bad, better than the one he was about to use.

Having decided, he nodded his head to you and raised his hand in front of you.

"Yes. I'm Zhongli." He confirmed, voice deep with a hidden feeling of pride that bloomed when he said the name you made for him.

He never took notice or thought about why he felt so proud of the name you gave to him. But as time went by, he finally knew why.

You smiled at him, a smile that's so contagious he can't help but smile back to you.

You grab his hand. Despite the gloves he wore, he can still feel the warmth along the roughness of your (s/c) hand caressing his.

"I'm [Name]. It's nice to meet you!" You said and shook his hand.

With a shake from your intertwined hands. Both of your faith has been sealed.

After that, he'll regret not telling you that meeting you with his human form was a nice change. He'll regret not telling you that finally talking to you after the years of silently being by your side is one of the happiest memories he treasured about you despite it's challenge. He'll regret not telling you that your eyes are so beautiful up close. He'll regret not telling you that hearing you say that name you basically created for him , is also not bad. He'll regret that he never admitted to you that he wouldn't mind hearing you saying that name to him everyday, as long as time let you stay breathing next to him. He'll feel all of this when you're laying on a bed, looking at him with your bright yet dull eyes, wheezing out your last breath next to him.

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

- After he introduced himself in his human form but with different name, Morax- now know as Zhongli -accompanied you to your on Liyue.

- At first, it's awkward. You both walk around in Liyue, side by side but rarely talk to one another. Though you both began to warm up to one another when you both approached certain areas that you became curious off that brings certain memories of him that he can't help but say it.

- As soon as he noticed you taking great interest in the stories he spoke. He decided to continue telling stories about the area's you both go through, even the histories and what you need to know and become aware of. In short, he basically became your walking encyclopedia traveling buddy.

- As time continues to pass by, your relationship to one another grows closer. Every day is another day to spend time with you. Traveling with you, he starts to enjoy walking in his nation again.

- One of the favourite part of his day with you is sitting with you on Qingce Village while watching the meadow full of glaze lilies bloom as the sun goes down on the horizon. It's beautiful to watch glaze lilies bloom while the fireflies surrounds them. It became one of his fondest memory he'll never forget.

- He'll never forget how your (e/c) eyes became so at awe at the glaze lilies. He'll never forget how your (s/c) hand caresses one of its petals until it caresses his hand next to yours. He'll never forget how your hand fits so perfectly to his. He'll never forget the weight of your head from his shoulder, your breath and (h/c) caressing his neck and shoulder, and the kiss he placed on top of your head. He'll never forget those, even as the meadow full of glaze lilies are gone and rarely bloom and your presence missing next to his.

- If there's one thing that he has forgotten, it's the soulmark that's written to both of your wrists. Too busy on what's in front of you, too busy to indulge your presence until your borrowed time slowly comes to its end. Forgetting the words written in (f/c) became one of his biggest mistakes as he slowly wallows in regret as soon as he remembers it too late, right on the time where it's time for you to go.

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

"I forgot to say thanks to you."

Zhongli heard what you said despite your voice being quiet, too quiet for his liking. He didn't turn to face your way, afraid that if he did, it'll be hard for him to turn away anymore, afraid that tears will come out of his eyes, afraid that it'll be hard for him to let go of your hand that slowly loosen its strength.

But he's listening. He's always listening to you, even if you're not talking anymore he still listens to you.

"For as long as I can remember, I accepted my faith that I won't last from this world. The people around me all look at me in pity. It's suffocating, it's tiring to see the same sad look plastered on their faces every time I came near them. All my life, I always wanted to have someone by my side to share my journey in this world but no one wants to. I'm used to it, I even thought that no one would really bother to turn their way to me."

Zhongli felt the bed shift, and (e/c) stare boring to his hidden face.

"But you did."

He heard you sniffle "You turn your attention to me. You walk your way to me. You talk to me. You gave me friendship that no one dared. You gave me experience, happiness on my journey and I'm so, so glad I met you and will be with you on my journey."

He heard you hiccup "but at the same time....Sad because you have to bear the grief and loneliness alone once I'm gone."

He tightened his hold to your hand.

"I'm sorry yet at the same time not, that I met you. Is it bad of me to feel happy that there's someone here who will miss me once I'm gone?"

You laughed. It came out force like your wheezing the breath left from you.

"All in my life, I felt so alone. So when you came in my life, it's like the Geo Archon listens to my prayers even though they don't have to."

Zhongli noticed your breath starts to get slower and slower. He noticed your hold to his hand getting weaker and weaker. He noticed your voice getting quiet and slow. He always noticed those yet he can't do anything to prevent those from anything. What only he can do is accompany you, to ease your burdens so you can leave peacefully from this world.

But he can't help but release a shaky breath. He can't help but hold your hand tighter to the point it's crushing your hand, yet you didn't voice out your pain. His hand that's holding yours starts to shake but neither of you point it out.

He knows you're leaving today. Time is ticking, and there's nothing he can do to stop it.

As soon as he felt your hold loosen completely, he knew the time was up.

But before you left, you said the words he never expected you to say.

"I love you."

You wheezed before closing your dull (e/c) eyes and hid it for the world to never see again.

You left him sitting next to you. Now looking his way to you with wide, foggy amber eyes. Not even Guizong, his first lover despite both having a different soulmate, didn't say those to him in her dying breath.

From his dilemma, everything clicks into place.

You were his soulmate. And he realized those too late.

And the only he can do is cry. For the person who's gone. For the words he never gets to say to you. For the things he never got to do and express to you.

For the love he never gets to reciprocate.

Now he knows as to why you don't have any soulmark like his when you told him you both have the same way to find your soulmate despite the lack of soulmark to your (s/c) wrist.

Because he can't die to begin with.

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

"The glaze lilies look so beautiful tonight. Don't you think?"

Zhongli whispers while his stare still focuses on the flower blooming next to his statue. The flower really looks so beautiful at night, reminding him of the meadow where he used to hang out with someone from his side.

He unconsciously rubs his thumb to his right wrist, where the words used to be in (F/c), now turn into a dull black ink.

"Zhongli!"

Zhongli placed his hand back to his side and slowly turned his attention to the people who called for him.

He watches them wave their hand to him. "Zhongli! The Lantern Rite will start soon! Let's go back!" Their companion, a mysterious fairy who called herself as 'Paimon' called.

He nodded his head in their way. With a one last longing stare at the glaze lily, he walked away to the place where he first met you.

If you ask him again what he regrets, is that never gets to say the words he always wanted to say to you. He never gets to say how being with you made his dull life full of new experiences and adventure that made his life more fun to bear with. He never gets to say how he relates to you when he first met you. He never gets to say how beautiful you up close.

He regretted saying "I love you" to you too late

-I ACCIDENTALLY UPLOADED THIS WITHOUT EDITING IT! So for the people who saw this early (the unedited version one) and expect Xiao in it, I'm so sorry!! .·´¯`(>▂<)´¯`·. I'll write his version soon! (since he came home on my main and second acc lol) After I'm done writing the part 2 of the Venti X Female Bard reader,,

- I used all of my remaining braincell and got tired writing this on the ending, so you'll notice the ending is a bit bland?? Again, I'm sorry for that. I hope you still enjoy reading this though! (╥﹏╥)

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact zhongli x reader #mywritings #zhongli x gender neutral reader

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themurphyzone · 3 years ago

Text

PatB Oneshot: Poor Unfortunate Soul

Summary: Brain doesn’t think Pinky would be a very good villain. Pinky decides to prove him wrong (but mostly he wants Denny's).

AN: I’ll be honest, Dark Pinky isn’t for me. So how to compromise writing a villainous Pinky with normal Pinky? Well...you’ll see.

AO3 Link

Pinky gasped at the TV, crumbs of popcorn falling out of his mouth. Brain stopped chewing and looked away from the screen, unable to stomach the scene of Lupin and Sirius forcing Pettigrew out of rat form as he attempted to flee the Shrieking Shack.

No matter how many times he’d seen Prisoner of Azkaban, Brain always found it uncomfortable to watch Pettigrew transform into a pathetic, sniveling human who acted like he hadn’t sold his own friends out to a homicidal madman.

Sure, Voldemort was the villain while Umbridge was the personification of government corruption, but there was just something downright insidious about Pettigrew.

Pinky’s eyes were blown wide open as Pettigrew pitifully tried to plead his case. The simpleton was always so surprised about this plot twist no matter how many times he’d seen this movie.

The more he pondered, perhaps Pinky was the exact reason he found Pettigrew worse than the larger threats of the Harry Potter world. The man played into the worst of rodent stereotypes with his cowardly and backstabbing nature.

But Pinky?

Not a single disloyal bone in his body. It was a lesson Brain had taken to heart after his disastrous second birthday. Pinky was far too sweet and simple to even think about betrayal.

Tears flowed down Pinky’s face as Lupin transformed into an emaciated werewolf, so Brain discreetly nudged a pack of Kleenexes his way. Pinky flashed him a grateful, wobbly smile, then reached for a tissue and blew his nose.

Pinky always cried at this part. And while Brain found the scene emotionally gut-punching too, he considered himself above displays of crying during movies.

Mufasa’s death didn’t count. Dirt always lodged in his lacrimal ducts whenever he watched that scene. That was all.

Brain’s fists clenched as the cowardly Pettigrew abandoned everyone to die.

Though his escape was an essential plot point for the rest of the series, Brain wished the protagonists could’ve caught Pettigrew and delivered justice for betraying those who called him a friend.

He knew how the movie played out, but Pinky acted like he was watching it all for the very first time. Sometimes, watching Pinky when he didn’t care what happened on-screen was much more interesting. Especially when Pinky insisted on not skipping Order of the Phoenix.

Pinky hugged his knees, tail draped tightly around him as the Dementors attacked Harry and Sirius. The rest of the movie would be loaded with those undead abominations. Brain had learned from unfortunate experience that Pinky would have nightmares if he didn’t cut off the fear before it took root in his subconscious.

Slowly, Brain moved towards Pinky, careful not to make a sound lest Pinky catch him in the act. He took a deep breath to steel his resolve, placing a hesitant hand on Pinky’s back.

Pinky turned to look at him.

“Eyes on the screen,” Brain commanded. It was easier to do this when Pinky wasn’t watching him.

Pinky obeyed, humming softly as Brain patted soft fur. A long, flowing tail wrapped around a crooked one. Pinky sat up a little straighter.

The Dementors wouldn’t haunt Pinky’s dreams tonight. Not as long as Brain had something to say about it.

o-o-o-o-o

“-and I’m so happy Sirius and Buckbeak got away! D’you think I could ride a hippogriff? Why are they called hippos when they’re not hippos anyway? I don’t think wizards know their animals very well, Brain.” Pinky’s chatter continued into the ungodly hours of the morning. Only the people unfortunate enough to work early morning shifts on Saturday would be awake at this time.

Brain rolled onto his stomach, covering his ears with his pillow to block out all the extraneous noise. One con about taking nights off from world domination was that his body just didn’t want to sleep even when he was tired, and Pinky’s exuberance only amplified the issue.

“Troz! Prisoner of Azkaban is my favorite out of the Harry Potter movies. But my favorites are also Sorcerer’s Stone and Chamber and Goblet...oh! And Order has Luna Lovegood of course! Love her! What’s your favorite, Brain?” Pinky asked. “Ooh, you shouldn’t lay like that. You need to breathe!”

The pillow was completely ineffective as a sound buffer. Brain was sorely tempted to keep up his current position out of pure spite, but he had to give up and lay on his side so he wouldn’t suffocate.

“No favorite. Hippogriffs are fictional. Hippo is Greek for horse and does not refer to a hippopotamus in this context. You think cows cluck and chickens moo, Pinky. Now go to sleep,” Brain sighed, squeezing his eyes shut.

Perhaps he could trick his exhausted mind into believing Pinky wasn’t there if he couldn’t be seen.

He had an urge to stay awake though. If his subconscious latched onto hippopotamuses, he’d just have that nightmare with the rich hippo couple and Rockefeller baby all over again. He shuddered at that memory. The pain and humiliation from that hippo-sized booster shot had been oddly vivid.

“Okay. G’night, Brain.” The bed shifted as Pinky flopped onto his back.

All was quiet.

Brain curled into a more comfortable position, ready to drift off to a dream world where he was an emperor on a golden throne, Pinky was dressed in royal finery while leading a resounding chorus of We are the World, and all knelt before their authority.

“Brain?”

And there went the dream.

“What?” Brain snapped. Part of him wanted to knock Pinky out himself, but that would require moving his arms. He didn’t want to move out of his current position.

“Just pondering. Poit,” Pinky yawned. “Before sleep ponderings. Those kinds are the best, Brain. Cause they get weird and tangerine-y. Bet you get those too.”

It was true. When his plans weren’t derived from Pinky’s inane ramblings or current events, they were often the product of pre-sleep thoughts. While he wrote down all he could remember afterwards, the plans pulled from those tangents tended to be the craziest and illogical in hindsight.

He tried not to rely on them too much, but if his conqueror’s block was high or creativity levels were low, he didn’t have much choice.

“Yes,” Brain confirmed.

But his curt answer wasn’t enough to deter Pinky.

“Cause I was pondering about villains,” Pinky said. “Like Pettigrew. Cause what if I had something that makes me a villain?”

As much as Brain wanted to dismiss the idea of a villainous Pinky due to the sheer absurdity of the concept, he supposed it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility either.

But Pinky as a villain? A mouse who gave up his soul for the sake of Brain’s desires and argued against promoting harmful cigarettes to children?

It was just ludicrous.

“Pinky, you lack many prerequisites for proper villainy,” Brain said. “Except for the dramatics. That’s the only trait you have in common.”

“Oh. Well, I could certainly try,” Pinky replied.

Yes, and someday pigs would evolve and develop flight capabilities.

If he were in a clearer state of mind, he would’ve argued out of obstinance. But right now, it was incredibly early on a Saturday morning and he wanted nothing more than to sleep. Discussions on villainy and world domination could wait a few hours.

“If you can prove me wrong, you can select the next restaurant we’ll go to,” Brain yawned.

Pinky rarely got to choose the restaurant, given Brain’s sophisticated palate, but at this point he was willing to try anything to get Pinky off his back.

Then Pinky went from figuratively being on his back to pressing against it, his tail curling around Brain’s. Pinky’s jaw rested against the back of Brain’s head. The added pressure released a tenseness around Brain’s shoulders, one that he’d been previously unaware of.

“Denny’s,�� Pinky murmured, nuzzling the back of Brain’s ear. The sensitive appendage flicked. Nobody was around to witness that involuntary reflex, so Brain let it pass. “A Grand Slam with pancakes and syrup and bacon n’ eggs…”

Within seconds, Pinky was out like a light. He wouldn’t remember this conversation, too busy thinking with his stomach instead of properly pondering with that fluffball of a mind.

With Pinky’s warm fur against his back and soft narfs against his ear, Brain’s thoughts gently trickled away and yielded to peaceful sleep.

o-o-o-o-o

Though it was probably noon by now, Brain still didn’t want to open his eyes. Why bother? No scientists to pester them, no leftover plans or materials to hide away so they wouldn’t be discovered, no tedious mazes to run on Saturday.

Pinky had gotten up sometime before him, and the space beside him was empty, giving Brain room to stretch out in whatever way he liked.

Then he heard a harsh scraping noise, like someone was dragging something heavy across the counter. That wasn’t unusual for Pinky if an object caught his short attention span for some inane reason.

However, there was also the sound of laughter accompanying the noise. Pinky was giggly and bubbly to a fault, but this brand of laughter was different.

Almost malevolent.

A chill ran up his spine, but Brain ignored the feeling. Pinky’s evil laugh was still firmly in Saturday morning cartoon villain territory, he told himself.

Even if he sounded a little too good at being evil.

Apparently, Pinky had remembered the bet after all.

Brain slowly opened his eyes, about to find Pinky and tell him to knock it off, only to find that it was much darker than it should be for daytime. But it wasn’t dark enough to impede his vision. When he looked up, he found a sheet had been pulled over the entire cage. He couldn’t see anything outside the cage.

Pinky being secretive would surely spell disaster. And it hadn’t been there last night, so Pinky was the only culprit.

The wheel stood empty, a fresh oil can beside it. Brain rubbed his eyes, partly to wake himself up and partly out of disbelief. He was normally a light sleeper, but if he hadn’t heard Pinky maintain his wheel at all, then he must’ve had a deeper sleep than he thought.

He climbed out of bed and marched towards the unlatched cage door, though the corner of the sheet was pulled over it. He would’ve swept it aside, but an unopened cup of Rice Krispies with a half-empty bottle of milk, napkin, and spoon conspicuously placed next to the door gave him pause from leaving the cage.

His stomach growled.

“Well played, Pinky,” Brain admitted. A breakfast barricade to delay him? It was rather creative, not that he’d ever let Pinky know.

The Rice Krispies made satisfactory snap, crackle, and pop noises as Brain poured the milk inside. Then he scarfed down the cereal, half-expecting Pinky to come in and drag him outside for whatever he planned.

But Pinky seemed content to let him eat first.

Once he finished eating, he dragged the empty cereal cup and milk bottle behind him. But even his simple two-step plan of throwing his current load into the garbage and finding Pinky were laid to waste the moment he set foot outside the cage.

For Pinky had unleashed his inner interior designer and completely transformed the room in such a short timeframe.

Large, sweeping blackout curtains covered the windows, even the skylight. According to the digital clock atop the TV, it was 12:30 in the afternoon. But if Brain didn’t know any better, he would’ve believed it was midnight.

No wonder he’d been so inclined to sleep in.

Long strands of Christmas lights hung on each dark blue wall, which was otherwise untransformed. Other than the digital clock, they were the only available light source. But rather than their usual festive association, the unblinking reds, greens, and blues lent a rather ominous, otherworldly quality to the room.

Brain dispelled the fear. It was irrational when he’d traversed the dark lab at night a million times before.

Perhaps he was focusing too hard on dumping the leftover milk into the sink. With absolute concentration, he pushed the empty cup and bottle over the counter’s edge and into the garbage can below.

As he backed away from the edge, he saw a large mixing bowl with a stepladder set by it. Wisps of steam rose from the inside of the bowl. This must’ve been the source of the scraping sound he’d heard earlier. Curious, Brain climbed the stepladder and peered inside.

It was just warm water though.

He tried not to feel too disappointed. But even if it was mundane right now, surely it had to be here for a reason, right?

Or Pinky didn’t have any reason at all and he just wanted to fill a mixing bowl with boiled water. Both options were possibilities.

As he continued his search for Pinky, he walked past rows upon rows of test tubes filled with brightly colored substances. Electric green, dreadful purple, deceptively calm cerulean…

He wasn’t sure what kind of chemistry experiments they were running, but he wished someone had enough sense to label the test tubes.

Beakers and tubing distorted his reflection, a prickling sensation traveling down his spine and forcing his fur to stand on end. He smoothed it down so he didn’t bear a passing resemblance to a cotton ball. The slightly colder than normal temperature wasn’t helping.

The distortion was simply a natural refraction of light passing through liquids. That’s all. There was no reason to get worked up over natural phenomena.

That didn’t stop him from leaping back when a wide, smiling human face suddenly appeared as he navigated a sea of flasks.

His heart threatened to leap out of his chest, his breaths growing heavier.

There weren’t any humans in the lab right now, he reminded himself. And the smiling face was frozen and unmoving. It wasn’t real.

Brain cautiously poked his head around the flask, keeping it as a buffer between himself and the unknown threat.

Against the wall, several of Pinky’s Barbie and Ken dolls sat in a row. The one whose face appeared on the flask was on the far left, her blonde hair in a ponytail. All of the dolls were in colorful swimwear. One of the Ken dolls had a pair of sunglasses perched on his head.

The dolls were normal. No creepy alterations or missing body parts.

But as Brain approached and inspected the dolls closely, their positioning seemed...odd.

Yes, their plastic visages displayed smiles as if they were en route to a Miami beach party, but their arms were stretched above their heads or out to the sides in warning. Their legs laid flat against the ground. Duct tape trapped their legs to the ground and wrapped against their torsos, sticking them firmly to the wall and preventing them from falling over.

An interesting choice for decor, to say the least.

But enough was enough. Time to find Pinky and force a coherent explanation out of him.

One of the Barbie's arm pointed to the back of the room, so Brain followed her instruction. It led him straight to Pinky’s dollhouse, and Brain cursed himself for being so taken in with the environment that he’d neglected to check one of Pinky’s favorite toys.

The pink plastic door was wide open, a deadly invitation into danger. Brain’s ears pricked as a song floated through the air.

“Things are working out according to my ultimate design,

Soon I’ll have that little rodent and the planet shall be mine!”

The melody was accompanied by a sinister cackle.

Brain wanted to barge in and demand Pinky to cease his foolishness immediately, but his fingers curled against the doorframe instead, urging him to heed caution.

“I can hear you!” Pinky singsonged from behind a section of dollhouse that was curtained off with jingling Mardi Gras beads. “Won’t you come inside so we can talk properly?”

Brain rolled his eyes, sweeping the bead curtain away. “Pinky, I’m aware of our deal, but this is rather excess-”

Then his mind registered the scene that lay before him.

Pinky perched on a stool in front of a mirror as he applied a red coating of lipstick. That wasn’t unusual for him.

But he was also clad in a backless floor-length dress with thigh-high slits. The dress was dark as night, leaving his shoulders and arms exposed. His fur was dyed a light lavender, save for his messy white tuft, which was gelled so that it stood straight up.

A small seashell necklace sat just above the low cut dress, purple earrings hanging from each ear. Pinky didn’t turn around, blinking coyly at Brain in his reflection, which sported heavy blue eyeshadow.

He set the lipstick down, and Brain stared at the enchanting movement of manicured, polished red nails as deft fingers picked up a small brush and dipped it into a makeup kit. Then Pinky applied a beauty mark next to his lips.

The next thing out of Brain’s mouth was a very intelligent ‘um’.

“You shouldn’t lurk in doorways,” Pinky purred, his voice low and sultry. “It’s very rude. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

She didn’t have time to teach him a lot of things, given his kidnapping at an early age, but that wasn’t the point.

“Why in Ptolemy’s name are you Ursula out of all villains?” Brain asked, once his voice came back.

At least it explained why Pinky had redecorated the room to resemble an underwater cavern that doubled as a villainous lair. It was an excellent use of space.

And the Barbies and Kens...those were the stand-ins for the helpless sea polyps.

Pinky must’ve been deriving a lot of satisfaction at seeing that realization dawn on Brain.

“Why not?” Pinky shrugged. He puckered his lips and kissed his reflection, leaving a red lip-shaped mark behind. “Besides...isn’t there something you’re after? Something you want oh so very much, but haven’t been able to get?”

Brain scowled. “You know perfectly well that I’m trying to rule the world, Pinky.”

Pinky snapped his fingers. “And that’s what I can help you with! The only way to get what you want...is to become a human yourself.”

Well, he’d never considered that before in the pursuit of world domination. There was something about manipulating his genetic code and changing his species that didn’t sit well with him, even though he detested the challenges that came with being a lowly lab mouse.

But it made sense.

Humans only respected humans. Becoming a member of the dominant species would be an asset for sure!

But Pinky didn’t have the means to make that happen...right?

“You don’t know how to manipulate mouse DNA into a human one,” Brain said.

“Oh my dear, sweet Brain,” Pinky crooned as he stood up, slinking over to Brain. Brain crossed his arms, forcing himself to stare Pinky straight in the eye and not show any signs of yielding. He made a point out of not watching those sashaying hips and tail. “Helping poor, unfortunate mice like yourself is my one passion in life! Why, without it, I’ll have to slink away and become a crazy cat lady! And then who will those poor souls turn to?”

“A glass of alcohol, I presume,” Brain replied.

Pinky’s tail came to rest around Brain’s shoulders. The tip tickled Brain’s nose, and he held it away from his face as Pinky pulled him out of the dollhouse and back to the tied up Barbie and Ken dolls. “Maybe, maybe...but a real person they can lean on, I mean. One that knows a little...magic.”

He flicked his finger at a beaker filled with a lavender substance. The beaker sailed through the air, dumping its contents into the mixing bowl. A purple haze rose from the bowl.

“That’s telepathy, not-”

Pinky gently pressed a finger to Brain’s mouth to hush him. “Oh, ye of little faith,” he scolded. “It’s true that I did some rather — how would you phrase this gently — unsavory things before. But I’ve repented! Turned over a new leaf! Seen the light! And now I use my talents for those lonely and miserable enough to seek my services.”

Then Pinky moved away from Brain, flicking his tail against Brain’s nose to direct his attention to the wall. Pinky wrapped his arm around the Barbie with a red polka-dotted bikini. “You see, Barbie here grew up where she didn’t have much opportunity. Poor girl had to work two jobs to make ends meet, and hardly a cent to show for it! So I offered her a chance to get away from it all...and she took it.”

Brain gulped as Pinky moved onto the Ken doll next to Barbie. He was awfully convincing, even when the subject in question was inanimate. Pinky played with the ascot around Ken’s neck. “And this young man? Well, he wasn’t having much luck with the ladies. So I gave him a few pointers, maybe a knickknack or two to help speed things along. However…”

Pinky indicated the tape that bound the dolls to the wall. “I wouldn’t worry about this too much, since you’re a mouse of your word, but sometimes...they couldn’t pay me back in time. So I found a different way to collect their debt.”

“Yes, I’m sure you have much to gain from restraining children’s toys,” Brain said, tilting his head up to hide his uneasiness.

They looked less marketable and more like hapless victims wallowing in despair, despite their smiling faces. He chalked it up to the wall’s resemblance to a dimly lit marine cave.

“Oh, I get some odd complaints every now and then,” Pinky shrugged. “But alas, that’s what happens in this business.”

He plucked a purple sash from Barbie and wrapped it around his head, fluttering his eyelashes innocently.

Not that he was fooling Brain.

But he didn’t have time to process that nonverbal gesture, for Pinky threw the sash around Brain, his tail looping around Brain’s waist. With the sash locking his arms against his sides, he was helplessly corralled to the mixing bowl. He dug his feet into the surface beneath him, but it was no use. Pinky was far stronger than he.

In physical terms of course. He tried to keep his eyes on Pinky’s face and not his...well, he was a male mouse...he didn’t have...unless he padded...

Stop, Brain.

A finger slipped under Brain’s chin, tilting his head up. “Not to worry,” Pinky purred, and the room suddenly went from cold to sweltering. “I have your solution right here.”

To emphasize his point, blue and green test tubes poured their contents into the bowl. The colors melded together, the resulting haze forming a rough image of the world.

“Here’s the deal. I’ll make a potion that can turn you into a human for three days,” Pinky declared, dragging his finger along Brain’s chin. Now that Pinky’s grip had loosened, Brain ripped the sash out of Pinky’s hands and threw it aside.

The stroke of Pinky’s finger along Brain’s fur was enticing, and he pushed it away exactly for that reason.

“Before sunset on the third day, you’ve got to find someone of royal blood,” Pinky said. A golden liquid swirled out of a beaker and formed a crown in the center of the world. It was an image of which Brain had dreamed of for so long. He tried to touch it, but it was far out of reach for him. “Then this charming person has to fall in love with you.”

That sounded...feasible. Three days was a rather generous deadline. Most of the time, they were on a time crunch between eight to twelve hours.

Pinky produced a pink felt heart and held it between two fingers. “Then you have to seal your love with a kiss. And not just any old peck on the cheek, but a kiss of true love.”

A what?

Brain huffed. Of course this plan would have such a ridiculous stipulation. He’d gotten his hopes up for nothing.

...and why was he treating this like it was real?

Because Pinky.

Yes, that was the only explanation. And not even a rational one.

“Oh dear, don’t pout so,” Pinky smirked. The expression was fogging up Brain’s mind. “What else is there to seal amour but with true love’s kiss? It’s a tried and true method, after all.”

He chuckled at his own joke. Brain rolled his eyes.

“If this certain someone kisses you by sunset on the third day, you’ll have the world permanently. But if they don’t, you turn back into a mouse.”

Pinky tossed the felt heart into the mixing bowl, the solution emitting a pink puff of smoke.

“And you belong to me.”

A dangerous edge crept into Pinky’s tone as he whispered into Brain’s ear, and the appendage fluttered uncontrollably until Brain forcefully snatched it to cease its movement.

Pinky tossed a hair tie, penny, and eraser nub into the mixing bowl, then leaned against a long pencil case as he awaited Brain’s reply.

“Suppose I agree to your deal. What then?” Brain asked.

“Well, there’s the matter of payment,” Pinky admitted. He stretched his lower limbs and tail as he rolled onto his stomach, exposing his long lavender-dyed legs. Brain tried not to watch the motion too closely for fear of hypnotism. “If you want something so badly, something of equal value has to be given. Equivalent exchange, as they say.”

“And what exactly do you want?” Brain asked, though he knew the answer.

He’d seen the movie.

“Your voice.”

Pinky’s smile was too wide and manic for Brain’s comfort.

“In other words...” Pinky hummed as he leaned forward, his nose was just an inch away from Brain. “...no more talking, singing, zip!”

He popped the consonant and mimed zipping his mouth, throwing away an invisible key.

It was so warm that Brain couldn’t feel his face.

“Now, now. Don’t be alarmed, Brain.” Pinky stretched luxuriously as he stood up. His tail slinked around Brain’s waist again. “You have your pretty face. And you shouldn’t underestimate the importance of...body language.”

Pinky’s hip bumped into Brain’s, his leg sliding all the way out of the slit of his dress. He batted his eyelashes and blew a kiss to an invisible audience.

Brain covered his face, ears flat against his back. He was fine. Just had to think about...something. What was he trying to picture exactly?

No mathematical formula could save him from the horror that was stupid, sexy Pinky. Curse those mathematical miscreants! They abandoned him in his time of need!

Pinky climbed up and down the stepladder, tossing chemicals and liquids and all sorts of things inside. The bowl rocked back and forth dangerously, bubbles spilling down the sides.

Brain didn’t dare get close. The inside of the bowl surely were an unholy abomination.

But that didn’t stop Pinky.

“Now a dash of zort, a sprinkle of poit! Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble! Fire burn and cauldron bubble!” Pinky cackled, throwing his arms up in the air. “Abracadabra troz! Bibbidi bobbidi narf!”

The mixture now to his satisfaction, Pinky flicked his finger at a notepad and pen, sending them hurtling towards Brain.

“Just sign on the dotted line, you poor unfortunate soul,” Pinky said.

Well...playing along couldn’t hurt. Even when there was a biohazard right in front of him.

And no, the bowl’s contents weren’t the biohazard here.

Brain took a deep breath and signed his name.

The moment he finished, the notepad and pen flew out of his hands and into the bowl.

Pinky wiggled his fingers over the bowl, green smoke rising to the ceiling and seeping past the edges of the blackout curtains to the outside. No smoke detectors went off, though Brain wasn’t surprised. ACME was rather lax on safety protocols.

“Beluga sevruga, come winds of the Caspian Sea!

Larengix glaucitis

Et max laryngitis

La voce to me!”

With a wide grin that spread from ear to ear, Pinky climbed down the stepladder and placed one hand on his seashell necklace, the other tickling the base of Brain’s neck. Brain ducked his head instinctively to stop the ticklish sensation, trapping Pinky’s hand under his jaw.

“Now sing.”

It was rare that Pinky commanded. Brain hated taking orders, yet something compelled him to obey.

Those coy blue eyes demanded, so Brain willingly gave.

And he sang.

Though he was hoarse from surprise at first, Pinky’s finger traced the outline of his neck, up his chin, to the corner of his mouth. Brain imagined his voice growing stronger...could see his voice taking physical form, flowing out of him and into Pinky’s seashell necklace.

Pinky doubled over in laughter as an explosion rocked the counter. The bowl sparked and smoked, its base clattering against the surface with loud metallic bangs.

Brain broke out of his trance as a sludge-like wave with various melted objects slithered down the rim, creeping ever closer.

He wasn’t taking any chances.

Grabbing his maniacally howling companion by the arm, Brain quickly bopped him over the head to halt the laughter, then dragged him over to the window for a quick escape. Pinky recovered from the bop and shimmied past the blackout curtain. Brain took a moment to collect the ACME credit card he’d pilfered from an employee several weeks ago, then followed Pinky onto the windowsill.

Pinky jumped first, safely landing in the bushes below. Holding the credit card above his head, which was no easy feat since the card was about the same size as him, Brain jumped as an explosion rocked the building, and his ears flattened instinctively to shield him from the worst of the noise.

As predicted, he landed in Pinky’s arms.

And it was somewhat mortifying now that Pinky’s eyes had gone from coy to blindingly innocent, even with the heavy eyeshadow. Shoving the card between himself and Pinky’s face, Brain climbed out of his arms.

“Narf! So how’d I do, Brain?” Pinky asked. “Was I convincing?”

Brain dusted off a bit of lavender dye that had rubbed onto his arm. He hoped it was fur-friendly. “You created a dangerous biohazard, toyed with my perception of reality, and overall you were a flirtatious nuisance.”

Pinky’s tail stopped wagging.

“So yes. You were indeed a convincing villain,” Brain said. He tapped the credit card. “And to fulfill the conditions of our original deal, I shall now treat you to Denny’s.”

He was a mouse of his word.

“Hoorah!” Pinky cheered. He twirled around in excitement, his black dress swirling around him as he danced all the way to the sidewalk. “Let’s go, Brain! I wanna look at all the lovely pictures on their menu!”

“You’re going like that?” Brain called after him. Didn’t he want to change out of the Disney villainess ensemble?

“Well you’re naked! So there!” Pinky stuck his tongue out at him.

With a sigh, Brain joined his companion on the sidewalk. Pinky skipped over to a patch of white flowers blooming next to the sidewalk, gently cupping the petals and cooing at a ladybug which landed on a blade of grass next to his foot.

Truly a convincing villain.

And Brain’s poor unfortunate soul was helpless under his power.

End AN: I deny selecting Poor Unfortunate Souls over other villain songs specifically for the body language line. You can’t prove anything.

I HC that Brain would hate Pettigrew more than any other Harry Potter character. I was trying to write a villainous Pinky...somewhere along the way he turned into Pinky Suavo. I don’t get it either XD

There's some folks taking care of the biohazard the mice left behind. Don't worry, the lab's still standing. It's just their problem while the mice get Denny's.

#patb disney #patb fanfiction #pinky and the brain

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

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WIP Challenge Snippets!

Big thank you to everyone who requested something. I love hearing what ideas you all are excited for! I'll put each of the snippets below in alphabetical order. All but one are just dialogue - I'm currently at a point where that's all I have done for most of my WIPs.

Somewhat unsurprisingly, only smut fics were requested, so minors please DNI!

Hope you enjoy!

Centerfold*

I'm still unsure if this will be a mini-series or a oneshot. I have no freaking clue. Here's a snippet of dialogue, though! Starts with Derek.

“Alright kid, spill the beans.” “Did you know that phrase could stem from numerous possible practices? It could just be a reference to vomiting, but there’s an alternate explanation involving an ancient voting practice of dropping colored beans into a jar and—“ “Not gonna work on me, Reid.” “Fine.” (whispers) “That girl in that magazine? The ‘Vegas Vixen?’ I lost my virginity to her.” “You’re messing with me.” “No! I’m not! I swear that I am not messing with you.” “There’s no way.” “Would I make that up?!” “To mess with me? Yeah, maybe.”

Coquette*

This is a long work that has been heavily inquired about and a very long time coming, so here is a long snippet of dialogue to continue the trend. Starts with Spencer.

“Don’t sound so scared. I’m not going to tell anyone.” “I-I know.” “Do you?” “No. I just hoped not…” “What were you planning if I said I was going to?” “Where are we going? I never told you my address.” “I need to drive around in case someone is following us.” “Oh. That makes sense.” “Answer my question.” “I… hadn’t considered it.” “That’s a lie.” “Fine. I would make a deal with you.” “Tell me the deal. Maybe I’ve changed my mind.” “I won’t tell everyone how hard you got for me when I danced on your lap if you don’t tell them I’m a stripper.” “A tempting offer, although I’m not very ashamed of being turned on by a woman who’s made a career out of being tantalizing, Coquette.” “What’s your idea of a good deal, then?” “Hmmm… My silence in exchange for whatever you were willing to offer me before you found out who I was.” “What are you implying?” “I know a lot about that club… And that it was your first night in the backroom. But your nerves tell me you knew what you were there for.” “Are you seriously propositioning me right now? Through blackmail?” “You asked me what a good deal was, not what I would ask for.” “So what would you ask for?” “Your address. So I can take you home.”

H2M Epilogue*

This whole part makes me want to melt, but here is a funny dialogue snippet.

Derek: “Alright, I know you love to break rules, but Penelope made me doorman for a reason.” Reader: “You really want to pick a fight with me? On my wedding day? I know you know me, Derek Morgan. I know you know better than to stand between me and my husband.” Derek: “He’s not your husband yet, Princess.” Spencer: “Actually, we had a courthouse ceremony a few weeks ago, just in case something happened and we had to miss this ceremony.” (Reader tackles him as he walks up to the door) Derek: “Hopeless. And selfish. Penelope is going to kill me, you know.”

Lane Courtesy* (Franklin)

This fic is purely for my beta @sunlight-moonrise, but y'all can read it if you want. Starts with Franklin.

“Maybe it’d be easier if you bought clothes that fit.” “I think I look pretty good in what I’m wearing. And I think you think so, too. Besides... it’s all in the wrist, anyway. You wanna see?” (She grabs his ball, he grabs her arm) “Don’t worry, babe. I’m good at handling men’s balls.” “Oh, I bet you are.” “Plus, I promise I’ll give them back to you after.”

Practice Makes Perfect* (backburner)

This is a very old original idea I had. I'm not sure if/when I'll ever get around to it - if anyone wants it, I'd love to hand over the dialogue I have so far. Here is a snippet regardless! Starts with Spencer.

“Hey (y/n), what—" “Spencer! Can I come in?” “C-come in? Into my room?” “Uh... yeah.” “But you... you’re... you’re dressed like a...” “A stripper, yeah. Are you going to make me stand out here like this longer?” (He lets her in) “Is there something I can do?” “Can I dance on you?” “What?” “I want to give you a lap dance. Please.” “A lap— why?" “Who else am I going to ask? Hotch? Please, Spencer. You’re the only person I trust.” “Trust?” “Please stop rephrasing everything I say as a question.”

Shortbread (Chip)

Love me some Sub!Chip. This is honestly probably on the backburner. I've been in a very Spencer mood lately. Starts with Chip.

“Can I ask you something?” “What’s up, sweetheart?” “Why are you so nice to me all the time?” “What do you mean?” “You don’t really know me. But ever since I met you, you’ve always just been nice to me. I mean, I know you’re nice to everyone, but it feels…” “Different? It should.”

Seatbelt Safety* (Chip)

Gosh, this fic is so short, I really need to just write it. Uber Driver Chip. Starts with Reader.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. I kind of needed to act a bit crazy.” “Why?” “I was trying to get out a super awkward date.” “By running into the street?” “Trust me. It was a bad date.” “Oh. Well, I’m sorry you had a bad date.” “It’s fine. You know how it goes.” “Not really. Haven’t had a date in a long time.” “Why is that?” “Idunno.” “Hm.” “What?” “You wanna go on a date with me?” “What?” “Let’s go on a date.” “... What?” “Most people say yes or no. ‘What’ isn’t very helpful. Is this why you can’t get a date?” “I can get a date! I just... haven’t been asked by anyone in awhile. And definitely not like that. That was weird.”

Study Session* (requested three times!):

I have a lot of this done already, so you get an actual sneak peek here!

“Listen closely, young lady,” he said like I had any other option. Like I wasn’t enraptured and enchanted by the feel of his warm breath once again hitting my ear. He could feel the way breath stuttered and my body stumbled straight into him with eager hands. I could almost feel his smirk against my ear when he concluded, “I would never... ever sleep with you.” And just like that, he was gone. He didn’t just drop me; he tossed me to his side like the very notion of being that close to me disgusted him. The desire that had been burning inside of my chest quickly shifted to rage. He could pretend like he didn’t want me, but there was no other justification for bringing me out to the back in the first place. There was no reason to allow me to confront him, nor for him to discuss my sex life in any manner at all. Seconds after we were both inside again, I grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him back to me. Surprisingly, there was very little resistance. It was almost like he was waiting for me to do it. I tugged him into the small, dimly lit bathroom without a care in the world for who might have seen us or what whispers might follow. Spencer was already laughing, apparently amused by anger rolling off of me. “Say it again,” I ordered through heavy breaths, “Say it to my face.” I’d prepared myself for a number of responses — most of which were varying levels of humiliating. What I hadn’t prepared for, however, were the words that actually came out of his mouth. Casually, and without question, Spencer ordered, “Get on your knees.” He was so calm that I felt like it must have been a trick. It took everything in me not to fall to my knees, and instead I managed to ask, “Why?” His answer was equally unhelpful and alluring. “Because I said so.”

The Agent Assigned to My Webcam*

This is a beast of a fic, so it'll also be a while. There were so many parts I could show you, but I thought this one was the most thought provoking.

Reader: “Wait! Sorry, I-I... uh... Can I see your ring?” Spencer: “... Sure.” Reader: “Thanks. What did you say your name was?” Spencer: “I didn’t.” (He leaves, she follows him into the empty hallway) Reader: “Do I know you, Doctor Reid?” Spencer: “No.” Reader: “Are you sure?” Spencer: “I could ask you the same thing.” Reader: “Drop your pants and I’ll tell you exactly how sure I am.” Luke: (walks in) “Sorry. Am I... interrupting something?”

That's all for now, folks!

Thanks for reading. If you feel so inclined, let me know what you thought about any of the above here!

#spencer reid smut #sneak peek #h2m

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citadelspires · 3 years ago

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Amphibia Oneshot Thing(I Never Claimed To Be Good At Titles)

I had an idea for a fun little story thing while I was at work over the weekend, and decided to take the time to write it up into this. In all honesty this is ridiculously self indulgent, and I wrote it late at night with no editing, beta reading, or even just looking back over it once I finished. Essentially I wrote this entirely for myself and just threw it on here in the hopes maybe a few other people might enjoy it like I do. That’s all I gotta say up front so just, here you go. (this is a long one so most of the story will be under a cut).

Anne found herself wandering around a lot of parks these days. After all her time inAmphibia sitting around in her house only made her anxious, and the city was just dull. So she would sit in the areas with the most foliage, where it always felt the most comfortable. Like one of her old adventures could come find her any second. Like she could pretend her friends were just around the corner and surely if she waited just one more second Marcy would come tumbling out of those bushes, launching right away into a rambling speech about a new plant she'd found, the perfect mix of adorable passion and somewhat interesting information that would always make Anne smile.

She knew that wasn't going to happen. She'd known and tried to force herself to get used to the idea, but even as her miserable daydream was interrupted by the rustling of the very bushes she'd imagined, she hoped for a second maybe she'd imagined it all. She hadn't of course, and the boy who pushed his way out of the bushes was anything but her Marcy. Even so, he must have noticed her solemn expression, because he immediately walked over to where she sat with a look of concern on his face.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Anne was surprised by the question for a moment, then again, she realized, she probably did look pretty miserable, moping around in the dirt in a random park. She was tempted to give an offhanded reply of dismissal, she was fine and his concern was almost certainly just a polite formality. But she was never good at following through with all that smile and say Im fine stuff.

"I've been better," she sighed.

The boy in front of her frowned, and took a seat beside her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Anne blinked in surprise, not expecting that reaction. She took a second glance at the kid, wondering what his deal was. He looked a few years younger than her, probably about Sprig's age, dressed for wandering around the woods. He looked like a kid who liked an adventure, maybe that's why Anne felt like she might be able to talk to him. She couldn't say everything of course, god knows she'd need a full time therapist for all her turmoil, but maybe she could simplify it a little bit, dance around the truth slightly. Besides, the more she thought about it the more the idea of talking to a regular kid sounded nice.

"Well," she began, searching for each word and phrase carefully, "a while ago, me and my friends found this weird place. It was scary at first, and I was nervous for a bit, but after a while I grew to love it a lot. I think- I know my friends felt the same. It was a really magical place, but it, uh, well its not around anymore. And I feel like I left a part of myself with it." Anne suddenly became overwhelmingly aware that she had just poured her heart out to a random stranger, and probably sounded insane on top of it, "Ugggh I sound stupid, nevermind kid just ignore me, thanks for trying though."

She started to get up and walk away but the boy jumped up at the same time.

"Wait, hold on. I'm not sure exactly what's going on, but from the sound of it, I think I kind of get it. I've got a pretty magical place of my own, I can't imagine loosing it. I know it's not the same but, I could take you there, if that would help?"

Anne turned back to look, not sure why this kid was so eager to help, until she saw the look on his face. He just looked like a kid who wanted to help, just for the sake of being nice. In that moment he reminded her of Sprig again, and she couldn't help it, she laughed.

"Seriously? You don't even know me. You sure?"

The boy shrugged and smiled. "There's lots of cool people I don't know yet. And you seem nice. So," he reached out his hand, "my name's Craig, nice to meet you."

As weird as this was, Anne had seen weirder, so sure, why not. She took the boy's hand.

"Call me Anne."

---

As they walked Anne started to wonder where this weird kid was taking her. Sure “magical place” in her situation was fairly literal, but she didn’t think she was exactly in the most common position for a kid. Or really for anyone for that matter. Still, the boy seemed pretty excited about it, so she figured she’d give it a shot. Better than moping around in some random bushes all day. Who knows, maybe she could even get her hopes up a little bit there would at least be something cool out there.

‘Something cool’ turned out to be a tree stump. Anne wasn’t sure if the kid was serious or not when they first got to the clearing, but based on the way he jumped up on the tree base and spread his arms wide.

“Welcome to the stump!”

Anne stared at him for a few seconds, not sure how to respond. Before bursting into laughter. She just couldn’t help it. There had been so much buildup, all for, apparently a regular tree stump. Craig crossed his arms and spoke up.

“Hey, I know it doesn’t look like much, but you haven’t seen anything yet, watch this!”

Whatever he was about to do, though, was cut off by a battle cry and a flash of orange hair flying at Anne from the trees. It was pure instinct, really, when Anne dove behind cover of the stump screaming,

“It’s an ambush!”

She realized her mistake a few short seconds later. Ivy Sundew literally could not be here. So, with no small amount of hesitation, she peeked over the edge of the stump to see a small girl pointing a homemade sword at her while trying to cover up a pouting expression. Anne could vaguely make out the girl muttering under her breath about how “noble warriors don’t ‘ambush.’“

“So, uh, are you gonna put the sword down orrr...”

Anne trailed off as the girl gave her a weary glance and muttered something about ‘intruders.’ It was at this point that Craig, who seemed to have tripped and fallen off the stump in the chaos, also poked his head back up and called out,

“Kelsey, wait! She’s with me!”

The short girl’s demeanor changed immediately.

“Oh, cool! Hi Craig, hi new girl, sorry I attacked you, I thought you were a devilish intruder.”

“Don’t worry about it, I get randomly attacked a lot, it happens.”

The girl, Kelsey, apparently, looked over Anne again, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“You do? Do you need a heroic guardian to protect you?”

Well, Anne noted, maybe this girl wasn’t so similar to Ivy after all. Though she still got the feeling the two of them would get along exceptionally well. She gave Kelsey a grateful smile, but shrugged off the offer.

“Nah, I’m good.”

Kelsey nodded, seeming to finally relax, though she did pause for a moment and stare off into the distance, though to Anne it seemed more like she was probably just gazing into the depths of a random tree. She gave Craig a curious look, but he only waved it off, apparently this was just how things worked with Kelsey. Noted. When she came back down to earth Craig was waiting with a question,

“Where’s J.P.?”

“Oh he found a butterfly and then chased it into a mud puddle. It was close though so I went on ahead.” Her tone of voice suddenly changed into a much more dramatic one. “He and I both had our own battles to fight.” Before immediately going back to her normal one. “But he should be right behind me.”

Sure enough it was at that moment another boy crawled out from the foliage outlining the clearing. This one already in a considerably messier state than either of the kids Anne had met so far. He wandered over to the stump, repeating the tale Kelsey had just told them, this time with a much higher focus on the mud puddle. He didn’t seem to notice Anne at all until she cleared her throat and waved hello. The boy, J.P. she assumed, immediately jumped with an exclamation of surprise.

“Relax J.P. she’s cool.”

Anne was a little pleased to notice this reassurance came from Kelsey this time, and didn’t miss the way Craig nodded in agreement.

“She was off by herself so I thought we could give her a tour of the creek.”

That last bit caught Anne off guard, just a bit. Up till this point she had just been assuming Craig had took her here to see the stump and his friends. She wasn’t sure how much more exciting one creek could be, but after all her time in Amphibia she wasn’t one for making too many assumptions about that kind of thing. Turning her focus back to J.P. she noticed how he looked her up and down with squinted eyes, before seeming to focus on the leaves and sticks that had (again?! seriously?!) gotten tangled in her hair, and nodding sagely.

“Good call Craig! I like her style.”

As J.P. immediately began to inspect the ground for his own leaf, which he immediately deposited snugly in his, much shorter, hair, Craig waved Anne over to the stump, where he’d rolled out a large piece of paper.

“This,” he announced proudly, “is my map of the creek!”

Anne wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but a fully detailed expansive rendition of what must have been a really large area of land, complete with notations of inhabitants, activities, landmarks, and literally anything else one could find to write down, had not been it. She gave a low whistle of appreciation. Man Marcy would’ve loved this.

Craig beamed at her show of awe, allowing himself a pleased, “drew the whole thing myself” before asking, “So, where do you wanna see first?”

---

After that, Anne was pulled around the creek to all sorts of locations, each one more intricate than the last. There was an entire colony of kids in these woods, a civilization even. Even on Amphibia she had never seen anything quite like it. It was wild, and, kinda cool? The more she saw the more she started to get what Craig meant. The whole place had its own feeling to it that didn’t quite mesh with any of the surrounding area. After a while, she was even able to push (most of) the weight that had been on her shoulders for so long to the back of her mind.

Which wasn’t to say that her time in Amphibia left her completely. In all likelihood it was more inclined to have already made her a primary target for whispers and gossip to all the kids there. Though she never would’ve expected it before she’d gotten flown away from earth so long ago, she was kinda an expert at being in the woods now. Though she did slip up once or twice. For one dangerous moment there she was mortified that everyone would think she was insane when, upon being shown to the trading tree she had casually remarked,

“I don’t see why you need a whole place to trade for snacks when there are so many perfectly good bugs to eat out here.”

In her defense, she also preferred a good bag of chips over tiny dirt critters, but what could she say, she’d gotten used to a lot of weird things. While her immediate first reaction upon the words escaping her mouth had been to play it off as a lame joke(especially considering the way all the kids stared at her, some in horror, some in awe, at least one clearly wondering to themselves why they didn’t think of that first, the clearing totally silent save one kid who apparently didn’t get the memo and loudly exclaimed something Anne thought sounded like “my candy!”) her backup plan ended up being totally unnecessary as J.P. just started laughing, confidently proclaiming,

“I told y’all, she fits right in here”

And sure, maybe that made Anne smile just a little bit.

After that they had a few more people to meet, including a few girls prancing around a big open field, one of whom blushed slightly as she informed J.P. that she liked his leaf, to which J.P. gave a cheerful giggle and a thanks. (Anne considered it one of her foremost signs of character development that she didn’t break out any magazines as soon as they got back to the stump). But eventually things started to wind down, and the trio of friends, along with their new straggler, made it back to the little home base.

Anne took a few minutes to discuss the finer points of exploring woods with Craig, who had been eager to talk about it since they’d gone out earlier, while out of the corner of her eye Anne watched Kelsey do mock battle with an imagined enemy.

“You know, my little brother is much better at this stuff than I am, maybe you’d like to meet him sometime?” Though she’d posed the question to Craig, she didn’t bother to wait for an answer, as she saw Kelsey perform another made up sword move, and something occurred to her. “Hold that thought.”

Walking over to Kelsey, Anne continued to watch her form, confident enough based on where she was swinging and where her eyes were trained on that she had a pretty good idea of what the fake enemy the other girl was fighting might look like. Eventually she offered,

“You’re pretty good, but if you’re fighting something that much bigger than you, you’re gonna want to switch up your strategy a little bit.”

Without waiting for Kelsey’s reaction Anne grabbed a stick off the ground and performed a demonstration of a few moves she’d picked up in Amphibia. Though sword fighting was never something she had expected to be proficient at, she couldn’t deny that at this point she’d picked up a decent amount of skill. Once she’d finished her quick combo demonstration she turned to where Kelsey was standing, a little surprised to see a look of pure awe on the younger girl’s face, before she shouted,

“YOU KNOW HOW TO USE A REAL SWORD??????”

Anne grinned sheepishly at her excitement. “Uhhh, yeah, a little bit I guess?”

She’d barely gotten the words out before Kesley was on her, begging her to show more moves or better yet, spar with her. Anne waited for the tirade of excitement to slow down before smiling and offering,

“Sure I guess I could, but honestly my little sis knows way more about this fighting stuff than I do. If you want someone to practice with she’s your best bet. I could bring her out here some time, if you’d like.”

Kelsey’s excited nodding was interrupted by an instrument Anne couldn’t quite place, and suddenly the smaller girl’s shoulders fell in disappointment, before immediately perking back up again.

“That’s dinner, but you can bring her tomorrow! I’ll see you then!”

She waved goodbye as she rushed off, as did J.P. though with considerably less rushing, leaving just Anne and Craig, who seemed to also be on his way out. Anne figured that was just one more of the natural ways of the creek. As he left, though, Craig paused for a moment.

“I’m not sure where your special place was, but this is a pretty good one for a lot of kids here. I hope you had fun, I know we did. See you around Anne?”

Anne could tell the last bit was phrased as a question, and she paused to think, if only for a moment. Sure this was no Amphibia, and sure a lot of the stuff that had happened since Craig had tumbled out of those bushes was pretty weird. And maybe she did feel a little guilty that she was off playing around while her friends in Amphibia were, well... But still, for the first time since her birthday, Anne had gone one day where she actually felt like the 13 year old kid she was. Sooner or later she could blow their minds with magic powers and frog siblings, but for now, she was just Anne, she was just a kid. She gave a grateful smile.

“See you around, Craig of the Creek.”

#don't ask me where this came from #I was just doin work and stuff and thinking to myself #and I just went #'you know what would be fun'#at first I was a little worried it would be weird to have anne hanging out with kids several years younger than her #but then I remembered the central focus of the entire show is Anne's friendship with a kid several years younger than her #tbh this whole piece of writing has inspired an entire au in me #where after everything winds down for the amphibia trio they pseudo-adopt the craig of the creek trio as their little siblings #and then four years later the cotc kids find their own way into amphibia #where the amphibia trio are like well established in that world at this ponit #so like craig lands in newtopia and heccin #important government person marcy just walks up like #'craig bro why are you here'#and craig just #'why am i here?! why are you here?!!! you didn't say anything about this?!'#i dunno i just think it would be fun #this whole thing is hella self indulgent anyway so like why not #amphibia #craig of the creek #anne boonchuy #writing #citadel writes #fanfic #yes an actual piece of writing on this blog #y'all know that au thing where steven works at the mystery shack after su:f?#this is my version of that I guess

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electricshoebox · 3 years ago

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writing tag

Tagged by the lovely @adventuresofmeghatron, thank you!

Tagging: @junemermaid, @molliehaswords, @desynchimminent, @valkyriejack, and @mercurymiscellany, if you’d like to do it!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

39. Holy shit.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

533,274 words. Holy shit.

3. What are you top 5 fics by kudos?

How to Share a Bed Without Killing Each Other: a Love Story (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dorian/Iron Bull, 5 Chapters, Complete) The trials and tribulations of literally sleeping together.

Rivers in the Sand (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dorian/Iron Bull, Oneshot, Complete) The Hissing Wastes unsettles Bull’s memories, and when he and Dorian are trapped together by a fallen pillar, Dorian helps him deal.

a soft place to land (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dorian/Iron Bull, Oneshot, Complete) When a letter from his father sets him off, Dorian turns to Bull for a distraction.

Always Good at Bad Ideas (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dorian/Iron Bull, Oneshot, Complete) Bull gets injured fighting a dragon, which leaves Dorian frantic enough to blurt out the one thing he was trying to keep to himself.

Flashpoint (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dorian/Iron Bull, Oneshot, Complete) “One time he got so excited he set the curtains on fire.”

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, always! I’ve seen various opinions on whether authors should, but to me, engaging with and getting excited with readers is half the fun and half the point. I also just really want people to know how much it means to me not only that they read, but that they take the time to leave a comment. Comments are hard to write. I completely sympathize with that, sometimes you just don’t know what to say or how to say it, and I absolutely don’t begrudge anyone that doesn’t. It just means a lot to me when people do, even when it’s literally just “This was cool!” or something, and I want them to know that it’s appreciated!

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm. I guess that sort of depends on your definition of angsty. None of them have directly tragic endings, it’s just not in me to write that way, but I have one or two with open or less definitely, obviously happy endings. The rarepair DA2 oneshot I wrote for Merrill/Orana, Counting the Cost, has the most open ending, left completely up to interpretation. The Inception AU DAI fic I wrote for Dorian/Bull, In the Shadow of Dreams, has what I think of as an optimistic ending, and less a happy one. I tried to end that one with more romance, but it just didn’t fit the tone of the rest of the fic, so a quiet ending that signals a road to recovery was what I chose instead.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Most all of my oneshots have pretty happy endings. I guess I’m tempted say A Line in the Sand, my Deacon/MacCready start-from-scratch slow burn novel, just because it goes from antagonists to lovers and has the longest road with the most earned happy ending. I feel like the long struggle to get there makes it feel happier.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not really. Instead I’m sometimes tempted into AUs based on other media, but not full blown crossovers with actual different characters meeting. Even then, I’m really picky in what I enjoy. I’ve only written one, the Inception AU for Dragon Age that I mentioned above. Honestly, it requires no knowledge of Inception at all. I really just stole a bunch of concepts from it and then made my own modernized Thedas around them.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Thankfully no! I’ve received one or two kind of odd comments, but otherwise I’ve been very lucky and everyone’s been really nice.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Hell yeah! I’ve written many kinds, really, whatever I feel like or whatever fits the fic. I’ve done plenty of your typical smut. I branched out into light BDSM with several of my Dorian/Bull fics, as well as waxplay and praise kink. I’ve also done some roleplay in the vein of “established relationship pretending to be strangers meeting at a bar” for Deacon/MacCready with By Any Other Name.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! Two of my Dorian/Bull fics, Wishing Stars and No Patron Saint of Silent Restraint, both by the same lovely person: landanding on AO3. I don’t think I stopped flailing for a solid day when I got the request for permission either time.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not since pre-AO3 days, beyond collaborating in a tabletop setting. I’m not completely opposed to the idea but it would have to be someone I felt really, really comfortable with and with whom I have really good communication. I’m really particular about my writing, and I’d need to know someone’s emotional comfort level with trading and changing and even eliminating ideas.

13. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Oh god that’s honestly really hard. I’ve written the most for Dorian/Bull and that ship will always have a special place in my heart. But I did write my first full-length novel for Deacon/MacCready, and they’ve already got me in the middle of my second. So they’re the ship that taught me I could do that, and they’re my beloved rarepair. There are a few more I absolutely love, but I think those are my top two right now.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Definitely Uprising. It was the first time I tried longform fic, and it was meant to be an entire retelling of DA2 with Velanna as the Justice-bearing character, rather than Anders, because after learning the developers almost took DA2 in that direction, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I had a lot of plans for it, for how Justice might develop differently, for what it might have looked like if elves had been more of the battleground issue instead of mages vs. templars, for some angsty bittersweet long distance Nathaniel/Velanna and some complicated Fenris/Hawke and Merrill/Orana. But I drifted away from Dragon Age fandom in interest a long time ago, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get the steam back for it. I’m proud of how far I did get, though.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I feel pretty confident with dialogue, I can usually make a scene flow with it pretty well and I spend a lot of time trying to be meticulous about character voice. I’ve gotten a lot of positive feedback on my descriptions, which I appreciate and wouldn’t have considered a strength, but my readers have been kind. I think I’m pretty good at including body language, too, though maybe to a fault.

16. What are you writing weaknesses?

Much as people have been kind on the feedback, I really feel like action scenes are a weakness for me. I don’t enjoy writing them and I struggle a lot to make them feel like they’re flowing over just bulletpointing. I also feel like I struggle to make them exciting. I feel like I struggle with exposition scenes as well, and keeping them interesting over info-dumping.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’m generally in favor of including them, but with the caution of doing thorough research if it’s not a language I speak. I shy away from it if I can’t be completely sure it’s accurate, because I don’t want to risk putting off a native speaker reader, or saying/doing something offensive. I’d expand that to include anything about another culture, really. For example, I’ve been slowly picking away at writing a Fallout fic for my Sole Survivor Anthony and Preston, and part of what has been slow going is just making sure I’m getting Anthony’s culture right. His parents immigrated from Vietnam, and I want his experiences with them and with his culture to be as accurate and respectful as possible, not falling into any stereotypes but also being allowed to be complicated.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Depends on what we’re measuring. The first fandom I ever wrote fic for of any kind was Sailor Moon. The first fandom I actually put fic on the internet for was Lord of the Rings, on good old fanfiction.net. The first fandom I published on AO3 for was Dragon Age.

19. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

God this is such a hard question to answer, my feelings on my writing change so often. I think it’s hard for A Line in the Sand not to be my favorite for the reasons I’ve already mentioned, it’s my first successful novel-length fic, I accomplished a lot with it and learned a lot from it, and it’s a rarepair I got to kind of develop from scratch in my own way.

But if I look back at my whole repertoire so far, just to branch out from the usual answer, I’d say I’m also really fond of To Have and to Hold, which was the first time I ever participated in a minibang, or really any kind of writing challenge. It’s a Dorian/Bull established relationship fic set during Trespasser, and it’s kind of a meditation on Dorian’s past and present and how they’ve shaped his feelings on love and commitment and marriage, all while he’s trying to decide his future. I’m proud of how it came out, and I think my Dorian voice still holds up okay. Plus I had two incredible artists working with me who put together stunning work for it, and how could I not be super grateful for that?

It’s funny, most of the top ones up there for kudos are ones that I don’t personally think are my best, it’s a lot of my very early offerings for Dorian/Bull that I think I could improve on a lot of if I tackled them now. I’m grateful people like them but I feel like they’re more an accident of timing, being published early in the ship’s popularity.

#writing tag #writing memes #my writing

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16woodsequ · 4 years ago

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The Alternative Timeline; A Journey

If you don't know, I have spent the last two years writing a 2012-alternate timeline AU Marvel fanfic. (You can find it here).

It has grown way past anything that I could have ever imagined. In celebration of completing the final chapter of the fourth part, I thought I would make a post detailing this journey for anyone interested, because when I started this in 2019, I definitely did not expect to end up writing an epic of over 500,000 words.

Spoilers under the cut.

First off, I think it is important to note that before I started the first fic in this series, Alternatively, I had published a total of two (2) fics in the mcu universe. My very first Marvel fic Lessons Learned was posted January 2019. My second Marvel fic Never Again was posted March 2019. (Both of which combined have a total word count of 5,716.) And then, on May 4th, 2019, I watched Avengers: Endgame, and lost my mind.

Upon watching Endgame, I was struck immediately by the time-travel scene to 2012. The fact that 2023!Steve told 2012!Steve that Bucky was alive...and that he said 'Hail Hydra' to the STRIKE team in the elevator...never mind the fact that Loki got away with the Tesseract...

There was just so much potential there. I wanted to build an AU where Steve and Tony could be friends, and I was pumped to explore the consequences of 2023!Steve's 'Hail Hydra'. I thought this universe had the potential to right a lot of wrongs, and I just had to try it.

So first I had to start planning. This was right after Endgame was released, so there weren't a lot of posts going around about the alternate timeline. I had to come up with most of my theories and ideas myself.

Also, there were hardly any Youtube videos of the specific scenes I needed from Endgame, and there was no online script yet, because the movie was still in theatres. So I had to resort to shaky illegally filmed videos from people in theatre to get the dialogue I needed from the 2012 time-travel scene. It was a struggle. XD

Writing Alternatively

One big hurdle I had to figure out was how Steve would go undercover in Hydra. I knew I wanted him to, because that would be super interesting, and would allow him to find Bucky and take down Hydra from the inside, but I had to figure out how he convinced Hydra of his loyalty in the first place.

The path I chose (Steve claiming he is disillusioned with the modern world etc.) may seem rather obvious to the outside observer, but it might amuse you to learn I played around with the idea of Steve trying to claim he was secretly partial to Hydra even during the war. I honestly did spend a few days contemplating Steve somehow trying to say he was on Hydra's side even while he was actively fighting them. It makes me laugh to think about it now.

Obviously I went with a more believable lie, and eventually figured out everything I wanted to have happen in the story. At this point, I had no plans to write more than a single story.

Because Endgame had just come out, and I was so excited about this idea, I wanted to write it and get it out as fast as possible. For some reason I was worried that someone else would write the idea before I did. It felt like such an intriguing concept that I thought for sure other people would do it too. As such, I had several WIPs that I put on the back burner while I focused all my attention on writing Alternatively. (These WIPs still haven't been published, my writing has improved immensely over the last two years, so I think I might have to re-write them XD).

One thing that helped me a lot writing this story is I already had a lot of headcanons about the inner lives of the characters, and I was desperate for somewhere to put them. I hadn't had a chance yet to really write about Steve's PTSD, so that became a major theme in the story that helped push it along.

Alternatively was the longest story I had ever written when I first got started. Before writing Alternatively, the longest (published) word count I had was 7,544. And, I had only published one (1) multi-chapter fic, that had three chapters, and 4,621 words.

Looking at that, I doubt anyone could have imagined what I was about to undertake. Not even myself. But I really really wanted to write the story, so I ran with it.

I decided that I was going to write all the chapters first, before I published it. This is what I had been doing with my WIPs anyway (and I'm glad I did, or those things wouldn't have been updated for like, two years). I will admit that once I got to chapter 10 of Alternatively I was really tempted to just start posting it, because I was so excited and really wanted to start sharing it.

I managed to restrain myself though. It took my four months to write all twenty chapters of Alternatively. It was a frustrating process at times, because I had an idea in my head of what I wanted, but I felt like my writing skills were not on par with that ideal. I wanted this fic to be good, and it was hard to get it to where I wanted it. This got easier over time though, because one thing a project like this does is give you writing practice.

At the time, I didn't even have my own laptop, so I was writing on school computers, or my family computer. (I got a laptop once I started The Alternate Handler though, this story is actually part of what pushed me to get a laptop in the first place.)

Finally, I finished the last chapter, and I edited it for the final time, and then, on August 29th, 2019, I published the first chapter.

I was amazed at the response I received. Before this I had only written twelve stories, most of them oneshots. I'm not saying my story went viral or anything, but I got a lot more feedback than I was used to. This was super awesome, and made me even more excited to share what I had written.

Even as I was posting Alternatively, I didn't really expect to write any more in this universe. Except...there was so much about Bucky in this story that the reader didn't get to see. I knew all about it because I had to know what was going on in his head while Steve did his thing, but the readers wouldn't know more than Steve knew.

And so, as I posted Alternatively, a very determined plot-bunny began to work away at my brain. I actually gave into it at one point and wrote a little bit of what would become The Alternate Handler, but I stopped after the first four chapters for a while.

Fun fact: The first four chapters I wrote are actually the first two chapters of The Alternate Handler. Each chapter was only about 2,000 words long, so when I started writing the story in earnest, I combined the first four chapters into two.

I don't remember what exactly was the trigger that made me really want to write Bucky's side of things, but around the time that I posted chapter 10 of Alternatively, I started getting the same insane urge that had pushed me to write Alternatively in the first place, and I decided to go for a sequel.

Writing The Alternate Handler

I started posting this story Jan 2020.

I was excited to write this story, because of how interesting Bucky's thoughts were, but part of me was a little nervous that people would not be interested in reading the same fic from another pov. I knew it would be interesting, but I wasn't sure if people would give it a shot.

I decided to go for it anyways. I was pretty amazed at myself because I had just written something that was 100,000 words long, and people seemed to be liking it. (Of course, I never could have imagined that The Alternate Handler would double that. I definitely expected it to be about 20 chapters long like the first one.)

I decided that I wanted to get as much of The Alternate Handler finished before I finished posted Alternatively as I could, so that I could started posting The Alternate Handler right away. I felt that the best way to keep a steady readership was to make sure they could follow the next story right away.

That meant that I had only about 10 weeks to write as many chapters as I could. For all my stories, I had an outline of basic plot points, so I could keep track of everything I wanted to have happen. It was helpful, but also did not anticipate the scope of what would happen.

I had a general idea of what would happen, and I had vague ideas of scenes I wanted, but none of it was nailed down. As I wrote it felt like I was walking forward a few steps to illuminate the path I needed, and then snagging the right plot points out of the air.

Bucky's mindset also took some work to figure out. How do you write from the pov of someone who barely remembers anything? Does he know how to use metaphors? Does he know what a microwave is? How dependent is he? The first few chapters where Bucky is deep in his Winter Soldier programming took a lot of thought.

One of the fun things about writing this story was that I got to dive deeper into my headcanons of exactly how Hydra brainwashed Bucky. Before this I had some vague scenes and ideas, but this story really forced me to come up with a coherent timeline for Bucky's experience under Hydra, which is pretty cool. Once I had that, I could decide how and when I would reveal the pieces throughout the story.

Anyway, I managed to write 12 chapters of The Alternate Handler before I finished posting Alternatively. (Which is super impressive.) And somehow I managed to keep ahead of my posting schedule for twenty-eight more chapters.

I honestly can't believe it sometimes. I actually wrote a 40 chapter fic, and posted once a week for forty weeks, with only a head-start of 12 chapters. (And at the same time, I was like, finishing university and working. So no, I don't know how I survived.)

Reader influences: Unlike Alternatively, where I had everything written ahead of time, this story was still being written as I was posting, so the readership did have some influence on what I put out, which you may find interesting.

Bucky's arm: When I first started writing, I didn't have a concrete plan to replace Bucky's metal arm with something better. That may be a shocker, but that arc starts happening way later on into the story (around chap 32). Because of how long and intricate the plot and story is, there is simply no way I could plan every detail when I first got started. I didn't start offcially planning to have an arc around his arm until a reader mentioned in a comment that they hoped it would happen. (And I was like, 'oh yeah, that should definitely happen...eventually.' And made a note to work it in when it became appropriate.) The comment happened pretty early on in the story, so it was easy for me to start laying down the foundation for that arc.

Bucky's arm part two: Another thing a reader had a direct influence is the blue star Bucky has on his new arm. Originally I wasn't planning to have a star at all. I was going to have Bucky decide he didn't want one. But then I had a reader request that I keep the star, and I decided that keeping it would not upset any character development. I had already set up blue as an important colour in the story, so I decided to change Bucky's decision and have him request a blue star. I like it. It is a clear symbol of this Bucky, versus any other Bucky.

Surprises

One thing that surprised me while writing and posting this story, is the readership prediction for Bucky's choice of whether or not to fight. I posted a chapter that focused on Bucky watching himself react to being drafted, and then remembering himself choosing to follow Steve, and then cliffhangered on him having to decide if he wanted to join the Avengers.

I asked something in the author's notes about 'what do you think he will do?', and a surprising amount of people (to me anyways) thought that he would chose to fight. I had always planned to have Bucky retire from fighting, so I was a little shocked. I thought with a whole chapter about Bucky learning he never really wanted to fight at all, that people would think he would want to take a break.

I think the consensus came from the desire to see Bucky and Steve fight together like old times. I think Bucky joining Steve on missions is a common indication of him overcoming his past and avenging/revenging on Hydra, so in the end I am not surprised that a lot of people might expect that to happen.

Because of that response I was a little nervous people wouldn't be happy with Bucky's choice, but that doesn't seem to be the case. Bucky's arc and choosing not to fight is really important, and I think everyone is happy with how it went.

It took ten months to post all of The Alternate Handler. As I was writing, I was not planning to write anymore. I was mostly focused on finishing the story, and didn't expect to write a third part...

But, my traitorous mind whispered, this universe could fix everything. We can make Civil War less painful. We can keep them from fighting. We can do it properly.

To be honest, it didn't take a lot of convincing for me to give in and start planning An Alternate Approach.

Writing An Alternate Approach

I started posting this story Oct. 2020.

I started planning this with a lot of time to spare. I still had most of The Alternate Handler to write and finish posting when I decided to go for this fic too.

Some challenges were that I wanted to show the Avengers going through the same things as the original Avengers, but doing it better. I had already gotten rid of the Winter Soldier problem, and Tony knew about his parents, so we didn't have to deal with any of that, but I still wanted to do the UN bombing and that drama, because T'Chaka's death is very important to T'Challa's and Wakanda's development, so I felt it still needed to happen.

Of course...I had nipped Ultron in the bud, meaning Sokovia wasn't destroyed, and Zemo had no reason to go after Bucky.

Thankfully, I came up with the idea of having Rumlow do it in time to foreshadow it a little in The Alternate Handler (the fact that they never find him, even though they know he is out there etc.)

Like last time, I wanted to post The Alternate Approach as soon as I finished The Alternate Handler. It was a bit of a crunch time for me, but I managed to get all eight chapters finished in time. I basically finished writing The Alternate Handler and immediately started writing An Alternate Approach. I finished The Alternate Handler August 1st, and finished the last chapter of The Alternate Approach September 10th.

Originally I was expecting An Alternate Approach to be a bit longer, but things happened quicker than I thought they would.

A challenge for this story is that most of it happens during a movie. There was a lot of original stuff happening and interesting inner thoughts, but I was restricted in what I could do because of the script I still had to refer to. Also because this story was only eight chapters long, I didn't have as much space to work through character development.

Reader influences: Like with Alternatively, I managed to finish the story before I posted it, but the readers did have a little influence on the content.

Mostly it had to do with their reaction to Everette Ross. I think a challenge with this story is there is Everette Ross, and there is Thaddeus Ross. Thaddeus Ross is much worse than Everette Ross, but I think the readers mixed the two up sometimes because they share the same last name.

To top it off, I wanted to show Everette Ross' character arc a little, because he obviously changes from Civil War to Black Panther. There wasn't a lot of space to show the glimpse of his character and how he could be better than he seems. The readership really hated him at times, so I did edit his lines and facial expressions a little to try to make it clear that he thinks differently than Thaddeus Ross.

Actually, in chapter five, Steve has a nightmare about Hydra trying to wipe Bucky and trapping Steve in the SSR capsule he got the serum in. Originally, I was going to have the main villain in the dream be Thaddeus Ross, to symbolise how Steve was uneasy around him, and how Ross thought of Bucky. But the readership was already literally out for Ross' blood, and suspected him to be Hydra (which was not canon in the story). They really wanted something bad to happen to Ross, but I knew that wouldn't happen, so I decided to change Ross to Rumlow in the dream. This helped foreshadow Rumlow's later involvement, and it also didn't give the reader any more reasons to hate or suspect Ross.

If I were to write this again, I think I would try to make it more clear which Ross it which, since I think the same last names really didn't help the situation.

Writing The Alternate End

I started posting this story Nov 2020.

For a long time, I never intended to write The Alternate End. I had The Alternate Approach all planned out, but I was adamant that this time, I was 100% not going to write any more.

This not because I didn't like the series. I loved it, and my readers loved it too. But at the time, I hadn't finished The Alternate Handler yet, and I hadn't even started The Alternate Approach.

The thought of trying to write an Endgame fic felt a little overwhelming. I was worried I would run out of momentum at some point, and I would leave my readers hanging. I had been writing and posting a chapter a week for over a year at that point, and I wasn't sure if I would be able to keep it up for as long as I needed.

While I was trying to dodge plot-bunnies, I tried to convince myself that an Endgame fic wouldn't be interesting. I figured it would be just the same as any other Endgame fix-it fic. I was truly convinced that the readers would be satisfied by me bringing them all the way to Civil War, and then just, ending it there.

It makes me laugh to think about it now. I really thought I could just be like "The End! I'm sure you can imagine the rest" XD.

And then I was at work one day, thinking about the next chapter of The Alternate Handler, and thinking of how much I still had to write, including The Alternate Approach...and thinking pointedly that I was not going to write an Endgame fic...and then my traitorous brain decided to speak up again.

I had exactly two (2) thoughts that were my downfall. First my brain was like: What if we wrote it from Tony's pov? We've never written it from Tony's pov before.

And plot-bunny-brain was like "ooooh". But I was like, "No! It will still be a normal Endgame fix-it fic. People can read other fix-it fics if they want to know what happens."

And then my brain was like, What about the fact that they know about the time-travellers? What if they decide to leave a message about Thanos when they time-travel?

It makes me laugh to think that the simple warning message that Tony gives his alternate-self is the spark that got this story going. Once I started writing it, that scene was not what I looked forward to the most. But at the time, knowing about the time-travellers, and leaving a message behind was something completely unique to my AU, and so that is what I needed to jumpstart my desire to write this story.

As soon as I had those two thoughts, I knew I was done for. I actually stopped dead at work and stared ahead in betrayal and amusement. I was like, 'I really am going to write this, aren't I? I haven't even finished The Alternate Handler, but I'm going to plan out two whole stories to write after this, aren't I?'

And I did. I finished The Alternate Handler in the summer. Because I was already planning to write two more parts, I was able to set up some of what I needed for those parts in The Alternate Handler. (Such as Clint's family and Scott's introduction.)

I started writing The Alternate Approach as quickly as I could. I knew I only had a short window before school started again, and I wanted to get to The Alternate End as soon as possible so that I could get ahead on that.

Once I started posting The Alternate Approach, I had about eight weeks to write as many chapters of The Alternate End as I could. In the end, I managed to write ten chapters ahead of time, and I somehow managed to keep that lead for the rest of the twenty or so chapters.

I was a bit nervous about this fic, because it followed the movies for a while. I tried to keep at least one original scene in each chapter, and I thought Tony's pov was interesting, but I knew I wanted the Snap to happen. I also knew we had to start at the beginning of Infinity War, because we needed those scenes to establish character development and such.

Writing Tony was also its own challenge. Tony had already had a lot of character development, but we didn't see his side of it. He was in a better place than mcu!Tony, but I still needed him to be able to improve. It was a tricky balance trying to show the results of the character development he'd been having for three stories, while also making room for more.

Another thing about writing Tony is he has a lot more relationship dynamics to work with. In Steve's stories, his relationship dynamics are mostly between Bucky and Tony, and in Bucky's story the dynamics are mostly between him and Steve, and then eventually him and Tony, with a few snapshots of the other Avengers and his sister.

Tony has dynamics with Steve and Bucky, Rhodey, Pepper, and Peter. Plus any other Avengers who happen to be there. And then, Nebula and his relationship became unexpectedly important. It was a challenge to balance the relationships. I wanted to show Steve and Tony, because we had been watching it grow for ages now, but I also wanted to establish his relationship with Pepper, something we had only barely caught a glimpse of before.

On a different note, one thing I cursed Endgame for all the time was the sheer number of characters it has. In scenes with the whole cast I could be juggling 15-20 characters! It was a lot!

It took a lot of work, but I managed to finish The Alternate End three chapters ahead of time. It was a relief to finish, and I was excited for the approaching time I could start posting the oneshots I had planned for this universe.

Writing Alternative Options

I started posting this story May 2021.

I'm not sure exactly when I first got the idea to write oneshots within this universe. I think I had some readers suggest oneshots of different character's povs, and at that point I didn't even try to resist the plot-bunnies. I was just like, "why not?"

I had one reader request an alternate scene to chapter 10 of Alternatively waaaay back at the beginning of this adventure. It intrigued me, so I wrote it and shared it with them privately. I also had a scene I had to take out chapter 35 of The Alternate Handler, so since I already had those two documents sitting on my computer, it was nice to come up with somewhere to share them with everyone.

Also, like Bucky's pov in The Alternate Handler, I had a lot of extra content in my head of other character's motivations and povs that don't get spotlighted in the other stories. It's all in my head anyways, I might as well share it somewhere.

I wrote the first eight or so oneshots of Alternative Options whenever I felt particularly inspired. I wrote the very first chapter back in February 2021, but I actually wrote the second chapter way back in August 2020 (same with the onshot A Change in Protocol.) I rearranged the first eight chapters into what I thought would flow best.

Writing the oneshots was sometimes a nice break from my main project. I think the oneshots are a nice way to end off too, because there is less pressure on them. The story is done now, I can write and post the oneshots whenever I feel like it, but readers will always have a complete story to go back to.

Unexpected Things

Everything about this series was unexpected (even if most of the plot was pretty scripted), but some things still amuse me. As I got deeper into this universe, I was surprised at the amount of people who were concerned I would kill characters or end things angstily.

I remember when I announced I would be writing a Civil War inspired fic, many people were concerned that Steve and Tony would fight like they did in the movie. It didn't even occur to me to reassure people that this wouldn't happen, because it seemed so impossible to me.

To me it was obvious that I had fixed so many things already in this universe. It seemed so straightforward to me that certain things simply could not happen. (Of course, it would always seem obvious to the author.)

I think people were a lot more nervous for my Civil War story than I intended them to be.

And then, when we got to Endgame, people surprised me by hoping I wouldn't do the Snap at all. It had not occurred to me that people would hope that. I felt the Snap needed to happen. If it didn't happen, then we couldn't see any of the other painful things be fixed.

Then, people surprised me again because they were very worried that I would kill Tony and Natasha. I had basically spent the last two years writing a 500,000 word mcu fix-it series. I wasn't about to kill Tony and Natasha at the end.

Still, I am very good at pulling on angsty heartstrings, so I can see why people were concerned.

(That is another thing I did not expect, the amount of people who told my I made them cry with my writing. It touches me every time it happens.)

Take Away

If you made it to the end of this long post, congratulations!

What will I take away from this amazing experience? Well, first off, not to be intimidated by long story ideas. I probably wouldn't have written this if I had conceived how long it would be. Lucky for us, I dived head-first into this, and just kept swimming.

Another thing that I think is important, is you don't have to be a super experienced writer to write big things. I had written nothing even close to this when I started. And my writing improved a lot during this journey.

I think looking at the finished product it is easy to think that I am just naturally an awesome author, but two years ago that wouldn't have been the case. Don't be intimidated by the finished products of authors. That is the culmination of hours of work, and it does not mean you can't do the same thing if you feel a similarly insistent plot-bunny.

Finally, I would like to thank all my readers! If you've been around since I first started posting, then that is 94 weeks (plus whatever Alternative Options turns out to be) of reading a chapter a week from me! That is amazing!

If you joined later along the ride, that is just as awesome! Thank you for plunging into such a long series!

If you have any questions or want to chat with me about plot choices I made, or my thoughts behind certain scenes—or anything really—feel free!

I hope you enjoyed! :D

Tl;dr:

I never planned to write any of the stories after Alternatively, until about halfway through posting the preceding stories. Plot bunnies are really insistent, and I had stuff planned in the background anyways, so I had to share it. By the time I was about halfway through The Alternate Handler I had accepted that I was going to write two more stories in the universe.

It was a lot of work, and I had never written anything anywhere close to this giant project. It was a lot of fun though, and I'm glad I did it.

#fanfic #fanfiction #the alternative timeline #the alternate timeline #Alternatively #the alternate handler #an alternate approach #the alternate end #writing #writer #writers #long post #alternative options

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 5 years ago

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Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 8)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 7

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Geralt seemed to always get involved for a royal favor; no matter how he avoids it, they keep slithering back until he agrees to accept. Though, the sorceress wants you involved in it as well. After the unlucky incident back in the marketplace, the witcher was keen on bringing you back to where you belong; sparking up an argument with the bard as Jaskier could feel that there was something palpable and precious with the odd like care you were receiving from the Butcher of Blaviken. Destiny just knows how to play the game well.

Warnings: Sorceress and Tybalt being touchy feely. (I know you want Geralt being touchy feely as well. You’ll get it soon I promise. HAHAHHA) Jaskier spitting some truths. Geralt being hot and then cold again, you just can’t understand what he wants. *sigh* I can see y’all planning to get a razor and make Geralt bald. XDDDDD

Words: 5.5k+

A/N: DANG. GERALT OF RIVIA. YOU’VE TAKEN THE CURSE OFF ME. I usually lose all my ideas after chapter 5. But, here we are. This will freakin’ take 30 chapters (I said 25 in the last chapter? DID I? OH. AHIHIHIHIHI) and I think I won’t regret it because of how slow paced I am. AHAHHAHAHAA. Y’ALL KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING ON THE LAST PART OF THIS CHAPTER? HEEHEE! WHAT ARE YOUR HUNCHES?

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren't from moi as well.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

In the other side of the town where it is all serene and neglected, a red carriage has been waiting in silence for the return of her aide. The sorceress peered out of the tiny partition used as a window to see people outside where her glowing purple eyes can only be seen.

Tybalt sat beside her with a grimace, huffing out breaths full of vexation at the events that has happened which ruined all of his plans for the night with the Duke and some noblemen who wanted their maidens.

"Is he---??" The sorceress trailed off, sounding fascinated as she squinted her glowing, purple eyes out in the open as she saw a child, a bard and a witcher who was carrying a small bleeding woman in his arms. Tybalt grunted his approval, acting so stingy by the change of events, "The witcher we'd been looking for,"

The vampire was heaving deep breaths because of his boiling wrath for the witcher; feeling a sudden need to feed was tempting him to calm down and he would. There were tons of maidens in the castle and he would take one or maybe a pair to satiate his hunger as always.

He rarely does this. Only when he was triggered or frustrated about certain things that kept his anger at bay.

"---Slaughtered all of my men for the sake of saving that little harlot," he continued with a grumble and a tight knot of his brows. The sorceress scoffed to the news that was given, expecting a successful gather of the women who were used as debts to serve the royalty or noblemen. "Even Terrowin?" she questioned with utter interest, raising a brow as she scrutinized the arms that surrounded the witcher who had ruined all of Tybalt's plans, "Even, Terrowin."

"Such a shame. He was one of the best horsemen for the king," Sorceress Ingrith tutted to her disappointment, sighing as the knight's death was nothing but a passing of the winds. Her wavy hair fell on her hips, swaying as she turned her head to watch you leave before loudly closing the partition.

"---But, not better than the witcher," the firm announcement was enough to tell Tybalt that the sorceress considered Geralt's skills as remarkable. She comfortably sat on her carriage and laid her glowing purple eyes on the vampire who had bowed his head as a sign of respect, "---Get me the witcher," she commanded with authority, "---and also the small maiden,"

Tybalt shook his head, a wince forming his features as he tried to get the witcher to accept his favors for years and years end. But, he was too obdurate. Never wanting to get involved by their hierarchy because of certain reasons he won't tell. The event that has happened was just a lucky shot for the vampire as it doesn't happen often, "He won't comply that easily because he has been avoiding us, my lady." Though, his opposition seem to be invalidated as she continued with a strong will to have the witcher walking to the path towards the castle, "---King Viduka must be mirthful for the news ahead," she ignored his statement, "---the prince will be healed soon,"

Sorceress Ingrith languidly blinked at Tybalt who was giving her a tight frown for her commands, "---As long as the witcher will be promising,"

The sorceress tutted for the second time, noting his foul expression that made her cross her legs as a sign that she was stronger and powerful than the latter; like her word is the law. She'd gave him a life back; even better than it ever did and now he wasn't hiding as he did back in his hometown.

Ingrith licked her cherry red lips and could feel the vampire's hunger grow more as she'd swiftly brushed her hair to the side, showing her delectable neck to him as a sign of approval to be used for his satiation again whenever it was full moon, "Use the maiden for him to comply," a sly smirk and a way to give him pleasure was all it took for him to nod in submission, "She...seems important for him to not hesitate and kill my men,"

The sorceress pondered in front of him, seeming to be in deep thought other than the fact that her men has been killed with just one man except for Tybalt because of his abilities. The latter languidly maneuvered till he'd given her no space in their carriage, their warmth embracing each other in a way that could get the devil laughing for their souls. "She...also feels different," Ingrith breathed in a deep breath, feeling Tybalt lean in close to that favorite spot of his on her neck, "What do you mean?" he mumbled against her neck, lightly giving a soft kiss to her sweet spot.

She exhaled a breath of pleasure as she felt his sharp, wet tongue licking a stripe from the line that connects her shoulder till the back of her ears as Tybalt groaned in satisfaction and from her delectable scent, "Her...Her body is an embodiment that makes me feel baffling," Another hitch of her breath. "What are you suggesting, Ingrith?"

"Give her to me when she comes to the castle," she firmly pressed and felt him sucking her soft spot that made her whimper, "---I just need to be sure,"

They hurriedly taken you to a healer and it was the right time because in any more minute you would've lost a lot of blood that can get death defying for a mere human like you. After bandaging you up and with Geralt's persistence that you should be taken home rather than to stay with a healer got you what he wanted. The healer has given herbs to be taken to numb the pain when it hits you like a train.

The princess wasn't doing good as well; mentally. Thinking that it was all her fault that they had to play hide and seek with the kids and happened to hide on a part of the town that had been deserted. Geralt reassured her that it wasn't her fault and she should stop crying because you wouldn't like it that she would be weeping for your selfless integrity; especially that he knew you were there in Cirilla's room last night, comforting the princess.

The witcher was actually impressed that it only took you hours for her anger to die down rather than him and Jaskier who managed to have a block of wood thrown to them as they coax her to stay calm.

Jaskier was sat on the witcher's bed where he has laid you upon; Cirilla was in her room and trying to relax from all the events that has happened. Geralt stood on the wall next to his door; his hefty arms crossed as he was giving the bard a scowl as he continued to pat your sweat-filled face.

The bard's ocean blue eyes gave him a once over, grinning in the process of his continuous soft pats on your temples because of how vicious he appeared to be.

Jaskier puckered his lips and gave a low chuckle; swiftly throwing the towel in the bucket of water. He shifted on his side of the bed and was face front towards the brooding witcher trying to drown in his own shadows. "Oooh, the scary face," the bard gestured with his index finger; drawing a circle far from his face before abruptly rising to his feet and ushering to you whom was resting on Geralt's bed; looking slightly dull from all the blood lost from you, "---Will you do the honors? It seems like you're throwing daggers behind my back as I clean her face with a face towel,"

The witcher grumbled a rough hum, his eyebrows raising as he lifted himself off the wall and languidly passed by Jaskier with a frown etched on his face. To Jaskier's surprise, Geralt dubiously sat on where the bard has been seated and reached out for the towel drenched in the bucket of water; mindlessly squeezing the excess with one hand before turning and actually planning to wipe those cold sweat running down your forehead.

The witcher ceased his actions before the towel even touched your skin. He'd cursed beneath his breath and deeply groaned to himself, scrunching his nose for his peculiar gestures, "You could've said something!" Jaskier crowed as a matter of fact and gave him the stink eye as he was restlessly cussing like a sailor.

He was just taking care of you because of the guilt that it was his fault for bringing you with them at the marketplace. It wasn't because his senses were telling him to do it because it was the natural thing to do.

There he was again, acting strange like he'd been when you've first arrived in their lives; offering to bandage your wounds for you when you could've done it without anyone's help.

Was this destiny fucking with him? He shouldn't have listened to the part where Durriken has spat shit about his destiny like he knew what was about to come.

The old man was probably inebriated when he had the talk with Geralt. Definitely had too much ale.

"You know what, Geralt?" Jaskier suddenly thought out loud, leaning on the wall where Geralt has been as he watched the witcher softly pat your forehead with the towel; like you were some fragile little thing. Though, the bard was sure he hesitated at first because it took him a minute of self meditation before cleaning to your aid, "This rat..." he trailed off as Jaskier had his arms crossed over his lean chest; voice solemn and with regret, "---I was actually frightened to have lost her,"

Geralt hummed in understanding to tell the bard that he was listening. But, his words made the witcher's bushy eyebrows knot together in intrigue; waiting for Jaskier to continue as he continued his gentle gestures; incapable of not studying your relaxed features as you slept.

You were at peace and utmost looking adorable as you slept, he was sure of that.

But, nobody needed to know his opinions about you. It was better kept unsaid because of the bothered feeling inside of him that wanted to swallow him whole; just like his soul, not like he even had one anymore.

The bard continued his comments and watched the witcher give care to another person without any second doubts aside from Cirilla and him. He never said it out loud but he does care for him, Jaskier was sure of it. That was just how he is, he never tells anything. Never wanted people to see through him because it would be a tough flaw. Other witchers grew old with having no emotions because of their brutal trials, but not Geralt. He had everything. The feeling of love, anger, lust, sympathy, joy, fear and a lot more. However, reading his emotions would be as difficult as to climb over that wall he was using for cover.

It takes years and expertise to read him like a book, and the bard knew that for sure.

Jaskier had a small smile written on his face as he honestly blurted out loud, "---But, not as scared as you happened to be,"

The witcher ceased his actions on cleaning your face. Jaskier's words echoing inside his head like a damn bell from a church. He languidly blinked and calmly breathed out of his nose at his accusations towards the witcher's feelings. Another feeling boiling that strange void inside his chest.

"You know that berk?" Jaskier managed to ask; completely unaware of the witcher deeply sighing before him. The bard held his chin as he looked at the ceilings; seeming in deep thought, "---If I remembered correctly, his name was Ty...Tyran---"

The latter evidently exhaled a deep; loud grumble of a name he started to hate since the moment he saw him again. His lips flashing a scowl in a way that says he wanted to burn the guy alive after all he's done, "Tybalt. He's a vampire feeding off the castle,"

Jaskier nodded as he lifted himself off the wall, puckering his lips as he hadn't let the thought process inside his head, "Oh, a vampire." Abrupt pause. Before his eyes grew thoroughly astounded, "---What?! You're not serious?! I thought vampires were much more...uglier and not looking like humans?"

"He's a more higher form of a vampire; much more higher than a Bruxa, Ekimmaras, Alps, or Katakans. A very rare species. It doesn't need blood to survive, but they drown in it preferably in full moon,"

The witcher straightened his back, hovering away from you as a soft, light snore resonated from your lips, putting back the towel inside the pail; thoroughly relaxed unlike when he had you in his arms, bleeding like a waterfall. It was a feeling he had been dreading as he'd already felt that fear before and the witcher didn't like it one bit as the hollow feeling that was knocking on his doorstep agitated him; thus, which leads to vulnerability that he never had after those events before you came along.

"He's the most trusted of the king," Geralt bluntly answered for the bard's question, trying to distract himself from those thoughts that would consume him like a never ending nightmare, "---Other than the sorceress leeching off the castle as well,"

Jaskier wandered across his room like he'd never before; he already did but he was trying to see if there was some new changes. Yet, there was none. Sadly.

"You know the sorceress?" The bard's question consists of shock, hearing Geralt tell him stories about the people in the castle like he'd known them when he never did. However, the way Jaskier said it seemed to be like it had a double-meaning, "---Of course, you do." he chaffed; voice lacing with sheer sarcasm.

Geralt gave him a look, shifting on his bed as he tried to force himself to shift his eyes away from you. It was the only time he could look at your face without you blushing like a virgin, "No, I don't." the witcher uttered; unenthusiastically.

"Well, that's a first!" the bard squeaked and stumbled from the witcher's sword that was leaning on a particular wall; snapping a lackadaisical glaze of his glowing golden eyes towards the bard who was muttering his apologies and actually hopping on one foot because it was heavy and it hurt his pinky toe.

Jaskier continued his hops of protest, ceasing once he'd heard the witcher surprisingly share something other than sparing one word answers to people's questions. He was finally sharing something other than the word 'fuck' or those displeased hums.

"I never wanted to get involved with their pestilential hierarchy," the witcher murmured, staring at the walls to his room. It had the same design as to what Cirilla had; but his was much more doleful. Technically, a room that couldn't give him comfort and warmth as he sleeps.

Geralt knew what happens around the kingdom. He knew how wicked and utter evil the castle can get; no matter how he tried to refuse their favors, he'd heard a lot of gossips about the king and queen, especially their son who happened to be the prince.

They were a family who outgrew the kingdom with fiend, corruption and selfishness. No kingdom has been perfect; though theirs were the worst of everything.

The witcher continued; heedful of the steady heartbeat of yours as you slept on his bed, "---It's their culpability to have a witch in wrath for their wrongdoings," he gruffly shared, a small smile creeping his face as he exhaled a sigh out of his lips; remembering the real reason why the prince was cursed; with jealousy being the actual reason of it all, maybe also a stab to the ego or dignity for the queen of Kaedwen, "--and I have no will to help people drowning in malevolence,"

Jaskier hasn't realized that he was gawking at the Witcher's back for so long as he talked; sauntering to the other side of the room where Geralt was as he weirdly eyed him with a judging look, "That's...the longest I've heard from you. It makes me want to shed a tear,"

"Hmm,"

The witcher's smile instantaneously fell at the ridicule that was sent. He firmly shook his head at the bard and huffed a breath before turning his head to inspect your state; calmly breathing like you had no worries in your life.

His lips straightened into a tight thin line, roughly saying his next words with those careless thoughts slipping out of his mouth and quickly staring back at the bard who was grinning, "The quicker we find a djinn, the faster she returns to her home,"

Jaskier's facial expression molded into disbelief. Exhaling one deep, heavy breath as he had his hands on his hips, eyes fluttering repeatedly from the words that left the witcher's lips like he couldn't believe what he was hearing, "Wait, wait, wait," he scoffed, "Why the sudden hurry, witcher?"

Geralt gave him a look that had hostility shading his eyes, "I thought you wanted me to help her?"

"I do, I do!" Jaskier nodded and uttered as a matter of fact before side-stepping till he was completely face front at the brawny witcher who had his normal grumpy face on show, "---But, I didn't thought you'll be tossing her away that easily,"

Geralt gave him a subtle frown, looking away from the bard as he sighed in tiredness because it seems like he didn't want her to go away as soon as possible; unlike the first day that Y/N appeared like a woman from the swamps; all soiled and dirty like she has been drowned by a Kikimore. "Do you really hear yourself right now? Are you sure you want her to leave?" it was a question he expected from the bard, yet a query he didn't want to hear from another person because it was frustrating him in some ways, "---After seeing you cradling her like a bairn, I suppose not."

The witcher ignored his protests and lowly emitted a groan that vibrated off his chest, his eyes sharp when it landed on Jaskier again. "She needs to leave," he sternly mentioned with emphasis and firmness. Jaskier noticed how the sentence was actually not for him, but actually for the witcher himself. He sounded like he was in need of thorough persisting about the fact that you needed to leave and so, the bard went on with his jabbers, "You don't sound too sure of yourself now, are we?"

Geralt hissed back, his brows in a tight knot; body posture turning rigid as he carried on. "Jaskier, she doesn't belong here. She never will," he gave a dour to his friend, "Have you seen what happened?"

"---and you handled it very well, might I add. Very heroic of you,"

"I can't always be available whenever she gets involved by whatever troubles she may bring,"

Jaskier lifted his eyes off from checking his nails, landing them on the rhadamanthine witcher who had a grim expression on his pleasing features, "Why do you sound scared?" he suddenly spat a question towards the upset trunk of a man. He'd seen how Geralt's nose scrunch in agitation, making the bard step back when the latter began to stand on his feet, towering before him with a nasty looking grimace, "It's because I am not, bard."

Jaskier probably struck a nerve this time because he was looking at him very differently; like he's done with everything; tired of even living.

He tried not to let him see how he swallowed the nervous jitters that stuck inside his throat; trying to confidently straighten his back as to not back down from his irk towards him, trying to stand for his point, "You always have a habit of shooing people away when you're actually already caring for the latter,"

Geralt's mouth twitched in exasperation; his annoyance coming out of his nose in deep breaths as he obviously struck a nerve.

"Jaskier."

Maybe, Jaskier's timing really did suck all the time.

Unaware of the witcher's piqueness and cynicism, the bard couldn't stop his mouth from trying to prove a point. Technically not disturbed that the witcher's nose was flaring in displeasure.

"Oh, alright! Whenever you're in the midst of questioning yourself, you always answer people with violence or brutally hurt their emotions!"

Jaskier didn't mean for it to go there. The bard's facial expression immediately scrunched to regret because of how it sounded out of his mouth. Harsh. Truly, it was better inside his head rather than being said out in the open. The bard couldn't help but flinch when Geralt stepped a cautious foot closer to him; his jaw tense and teeth clenching from complete vexation at what he has been saying. His golden eyes blazing in ire.

"What do you want me to do, bard?" he raved as he was trying to burn him with his death stares, "---What are you fucking implying?"

Jaskier has been avoiding his eyes at all costs, stepping back when the witcher stepped another foot close to scare him off; but the bard never does. He side-stepped to escape from his wrath when he was close to being cornered and opened his arms as he threw another fact that he'd already seen when he was with the witcher and his journeys before:

"Go on. Do your foolish actions by pushing her away or leaving a woman when she's in the right state of mind of being in her vulnerable best!" the truth was said without any pauses nor did the bard inhaled a breath, "---Treat the midget like how you've treated Yennifer and wait for her to leave you as well in the end because of your utterly boorish attitude!"

It was an utter mistake. Jaskier shouldn't have said that out loud because he could see fire burning behind Geralt as he heavily marched to where he was. He didn't intentionally wanted to mention Yennifer and what happened to his relationship with her before; and it was one ounce of patience that was snapped from the witcher himself when Jaskier began to even recall his mistakes in the past like having nightmares and that void inside his chest wasn't enough for his sufferings.

The bard shrieked as he dodged Geralt and slid under his arm; his lean body being an advantage from the wrathful witcher. "It...was a mistake! Although, it's not! I am sorry to have hurt your very much virile ego! You left Yennifer then! Not the other way around---Geralt!" Jaskier shrieked and contemplated whether or not to jump on the bed when he'd seen you laying with your bloody bandages; sequentially raising his arms in surrender and tightly closing his eyes shut for the blow; waiting for another strong punch in the gut for his rotten mouth.

Thanks to Cirilla who has entered the room, Geralt has ceased on choking the bard alive; sensing that the princess was irked by their foolishness as she entered with a frown on her face, "This is why you both must not be in the same room together," she scoffed and dashed her way towards where you were, seeing your bandages with blood made her upset yet again, "---I don't know when you're foolishly sharing banters or actually fighting already!"

The witcher was fiercely glaring at the bard, his cat eyes not helping the image that would certainly give Jaskier nightmares because he'll worry that Geralt would choke him in his sleep. Cirilla promptly sat beside your bed, scanning your wounded body as your eyebrows suddenly twitched together, straining your forehead in disturbance.

The bard continued his relentless, rational reckons while Geralt went on with giving him the stink eye. Your head was hurting with Jaskier's nonstop blabbers which adds more pain to your aching head as you felt a brisk, chilly wind caress your feet till it traveled in every part of your body.

You were breathing heavily. Dry chapped lips quivering like you were trapped outside the brumal night. Your consciousness knowing that your body was also trembling from the chills with a fever that came with the wound.

"Geralt," His child of surprise muttered, entirely alarmed by your noticeable quivers, "---She's shaking,"

Both men instantly snapped their heads from where Cirilla was. Geralt's senses catching your unstable temperature as he roughly spat coherent profanities; shaking his head. "Ugh--fuck,"

Geralt let out a baritone of a snarl which caught everybody's attention as he promenaded to where you rest. Cirilla promptly dragging herself out of your side as the witcher took place; covering your forehead with the back of his palm to check how hot you were.

You've keened before his touch; the witcher's hand so comfortable for you which aids to your shivers and sighing when he'd used his palm to check you better, a rough huff of breath escaping your lips as you've momentarily felt the warmth scurrying away.

The princess was kind enough to help Geralt, squeezing the excess towel out of the cold bucket of water. Her, being the good child she was; volunteering to wipe cold water all over your face. The witcher gave the child some space for her as you shivered like you were being thrown in a bath tub full of ice.

"---And now he cares again, ladies and gents,"

Geralt swiftly turned his head to Jaskier and gave him a scowl; thoroughly pissed off by his nonsense already and Cirilla did as well. Snapping back at the bard with tired pleads, "Jaskier, will you please?"

Soon, silence has engulfed the trio. The bard has already shut his mouth and actually pondered his regret on even uttering out those foolish things to the witcher with no reason. But, he'd given a little bit of positivity in it that maybe he'll actually consider that you weren't just an animal that he wanted to shoo away with no goodbyes.

Cirilla gave a soft sigh as she'd seen your shivering die down a bit; though, if you look closely, there was still some tiny quivering because of the cold wind coming from the opened windows.

She'd wondered out of nowhere, staring at the candle that was lit beside Geralt's bed before a shocking suggestion was said out loud to cease the trembles, "You need to hug her while she sleeps!" the princess excitedly announced like it was the best idea ever; standing in haste and spinning on her heel for effect to give her attention to the witcher who seemed to be staring back at her, unfazed.

"Hugs...aren't my forte,"

She raised a questioning brow at him, remembering how they hug whenever he goes somewhere and comes home safely, "She's having chills!"

Geralt sapped, languidly blinking back in exhaustion as he shook his head in negation, "It'll pass, princess."

Cirilla stubbornly crossed her arms; demanding in a way that sounded like how she was back in her castle, "Hug her!"

The witcher exhaled a long, heavy, perceivable breath. Sometimes, her requests could get to his head and make him want to just utter the deepest blasphemy he could ever say out loud. But, he always fought himself not to and tended to what she wanted as per usual before she throws woods at him again.

Geralt reached his arm out to gently pat on your arm, making your nose scrunch as you rested on his bed; wanting to wake up because of those warm pats on your arm, yet you had no power to as you wanted to continue and rest.

Jaskier and Cirilla stared at the witcher like he'd grown three heads, figuring out what the heck he was even doing. The witcher eyed them back with a look that tells them what was wrong.

"Is that a hug to you, Geralt?!" Cirilla managed to finally commented out loud in disbelief. Geralt shrugged his thick shoulders and cocked his head to the side, still tenderly patting you like he was dusting off some dirt on your clothed arm.

"It's close enough."

The princess of Cintra wanted to protest out loud, even wanting to start a petition about how patting someone on the arm was as close as to giving a warm hug for comfort, but no words were spoken as she massaged her temples like she was close to being stressed out already, "You're just patting her on the arm like an old man!"

Thus, it was Jaskier's time to shine. The bard took his time and started to tread towards where you were; "I can hug her, if you want? No malicious thoughts perceivable through the naked eye---" he was hastily stopped by the witcher who happened to clasp his strong fingers around his lean arms, ceasing him from circling around towards the space on the bed where he could give you a hug while you rest.

The ivory haired witcher gave another one of his snarls; voice grumbling so deep they could mistaken it as a growl, "It's my bed, bard." he lackadaiscally said, stating the obvious and that there was some kind of hindrance that shouldn't be stepped over.

Jaskier subtly gave Cirilla a once over, stopping himself from smirking as he tried to appear salty and just nodded back at the witcher. Leaving him to whatever solutions he had for you to stop from shivering.

Perhaps, finding a Djinn was not the best solution for you. It was a secret avant-garde for the witcher's heart as you started hopping inside that void with all smiles, ignoring the darkness that could possibly consume you as it was the only world he may bring.

Unbalance.

You felt like floating in thin air. Vision all blurry and hazy from an unspecified fog that made you squint your eyes shut as you walked into the sweltering path that had no possibility of reaching an end. It was murky and had no end; like a maze that give you entrance but promises that it has no return. There was voices reverberating like an echo in the deepest caves. Some voices were definitely unfamiliar and also sounding to be in rage while the last echo sounded a lot like Jaskier and Cirilla's laugh that made you snap your head towards where they were coming from.

Another delicate step along the path dusted in twigs, mud and rocks; the scene unexpectedly changed, bringing you to a glorious looking banquet. Scrumptious looking food plated in the most rakish way as strangers sat in front of you; their barbarous laughter and prattles completely opposite of how you were acting in the middle of it all. Thus, you've heard singing all around the place. Your curious self studying the whole setting as you noticed that you weren't in just some hostelry but rather in a huge great hall inside an unknown castle you've never seen before.

Your eyes immediately snapped to where the singing was all happening as you saw a familiar face who was strumming his lute with a smile. You've wanted to giggle at how he appeared to look ecstatic on entertaining everyone in the large room, yet from the moment you've opened your mouth; no voice could ever leave your lips.

One blink was all it needed for the event to change, seeing a silhouette of a man who stood beside you which caught your attention as your vision scanned the man who hurriedly snatched your cup of ale on your hands.

It was Geralt of Rivia and he was surprisingly dressed in something flamboyant that could keep him camouflage amongst the circle of people; though he appeared to be maddened by something as his golden eyes were flaring in hostility.

But, there was an eerie, disturbed feeling deep inside of you as he was smiling back at someone who he was toasting for. You wanted nothing but for him not to drink the liquor on his hands with no particular reason. The next two cups full of ale sat in front of you on the wooden table.

"For your imperishable, spectacular prosperity that runs in the castle," the witcher took a swig until it was empty as he gently lowered the cup with a soft thud. You've noticed the hesitance he held when it appeared to be like he didn't want to grab onto the second one; yet he still did as he gave you a once over with a strange, tender gaze that you weren't accustomed with.

You couldn't move, nor could get your fingers twitching as your head was the only thing motile. That eerie feeling molding into something greater; fear for what was about to come. Geralt grabbed onto the second cup of ale without blinking an eye, his smile falling for one second; only for you to see as he deeply stared onto the cup on his hands, "May...you have strength and faith for your majesty. For the fraudulent happiness you've always envisaged,"

Everybody was staring at the witcher who was giving wishes and you couldn't look at anywhere but Geralt who'd scoffed before chugging down the second round of ale. He'd subtly shook his head from whatever he was thinking, a forced smile lifting his lips that seemed phony.

"Your highness," he lifted the last cup for everybody else to see, giving a toothy grin as his smile consists of mischief and dread that only you could muster, "---and this...is for your son's shitless death to the fore,"

FEEDBACKS ARE SO MUCH APPRECIATED! Y’ALL ARE PROBABLY HATING GERALT RIGHT NOW. AHONHONHON. PATIENCE, BB’S. PATIENCE.

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