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running-with-kn1ves · 2 months ago

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Could you do Orc Tribal Leader X Reader on your wedding night?

A/N: I SWEAR I'm literally just writing the same stuff over again b/c I had a story just like this, but you know what I never get tired of it because its like a top fantasy bro. Hope this one was better than that version at least

Content warnings: Forced Marriage, kidnapping, attempted escapes, nonconsensual touching, infantilization of reader

Synopsis: Your village, destroyed and burned. Your life picks up somewhere you would never have imagined. Maybe, death is a better option than being an orc’s spouse.

Word Count: Approx. 2600

The autumn solstice was a bountiful, beholden time of year. From the greeneries of cabbage and the fowls hatched in summer now fully grown, there was much to be harvested and ripened for the taking. Your town was boisterous, full of life with a variety of competitors and businesses attempting to lurch at any tourist’s or local’s wallet to get them to buy countless crops, meat, and woven goods.

Your tiny tea shop, suffering from last July’s drought, was finally starting to perk up with re-growth. Black tea, jasmine, bergamot, even hybrid blends like crushed raspberry and chamomile-- you could assemble enough to raise prices, label the small reaping as an imported foreign good luck charm that when drunken, blessed women with marriage prospects and men with wealth.

That was, before however, you became bound and gagged to a chair, pleasantries being exchanged around you in a language harsh in your ears. The fires... You remember them well, the putrid stench of charred meat from the butcher next door, his body even more ablaze. Your jade boxes of fine silk bags meant for holding gifts of tea, becoming laden with ash and dust. Every scrap of money you saved up under the floorboards disappearing into floating particles and melted coins.

“Brutes,” Your uncle called them, “deranged beasts with only two things in mind: bloodlust and greed.”

Orcs were not well-received in a conservative, fearful town of humans. Even the elves, seen as symbols of beauty in mortal standards, were causes of paranoia and irritation whenever they made their rounds nearby.

It was no wonder that the lines of tusked, olive-fleshed creatures in animal skin were spotted, the guards of your small city went on a rampage. Bows and arrows were no match for iron bones and teeth of steel.

You, were no match for anything wider than a tree trunk. So when fire caught to your village, your home now rampaged for its finest ‘offerings’ to the orcs, you were left to be eaten by the licking flames. And yet, was it a blessing or a curse that one of the warriors decided to haul you on his back, doting on how “nicely you’ll do” as a wedding gift. You didn’t realize that the gift was to be part of the ceremony yourself.

With smoke in your lungs and your eyes blurred by dirt and ash, you watched the ceiling cave in on your tiny tea-filled shack, bright orange and red dancing from behind the window panes as you drifted away.

Daraktan is spoken all around you, harshly and with flicking tongues. You can hear snippets of English, wondering what’s going on behind the black veil covering your head. You don’t dare remove it, recalling what the orc woman, supposedly your now husband’s ‘mother’ telling you in your native tongue.

“Touch this, and you will surely die. My alfhild will remove it, when it is time.”

And so, you wait. Digging your fingernails into your palms, crying quietly in heavy furs and leather, the occasional hand coming to pull your shaky one to their mouths, kissing the tip of your index finger.

“Aka’magosh..” They mumble to you, seemingly more at the body to your right.

The calloused hand of someone much larger than you, whom you have assumed is your husband from his constant appearance nearby, occasionally comes to grace your back, to rest a hand on the top of your head, to smoothen your veil or the soft fur shawl on your legs.

His hearty laugh hurts your ears, the jingles of the metal jewelry he adorns constantly making noise as he shifts.

“Please..” You whisper, praying, to whoever may be listening. Why you? Why, out of all the fair, eligible humans of your town, were you picked out from the rubble to be “saved”? To be married to a faceless orcish man, who would surely break you in half before morning?

The bitter cold of coming winter brushes against your legs. You can feel that you’re not inside wooden walls, and yet unnatural lighting seems to shine through your veil at times.

“Omulork, I think I will take my… wedding gift, to be with in solitude.”

Loud, deep laughs fill the room, the guttural voices of female orcs being swallowed up by uncountable numbers of warriors surrounding you. Your body shivered as a gust of wind blew in, the autumn breeze barely being kept at bay from where you sat.

“Enjoy the festivities, shedzvagas!”

His unique husk leaves everyone in the room to cheer in their orcish language, tough and painful pats coming to your back, the festive shakes to your shoulder nearly making you topple.

That same heated, abrasive hand comes to grab your roped wrists, lurching you firmly, yet gently from your place on the ground. Panic started to fill your stomach as it rose to your chest, the warm aura of an orc next to you radiating to heat you from the chilly weather outside.

Now. It was now or never. You didn’t want to think anymore what he would do to you when you were alone, when you had no one to cry to for help.

Your feet moved before the thought finished crossing your mind. Your hands shook as you stumbled in a sprint forward. You passed thick bodies as you ran blindly, making it a mere five steps before a pair of meaty hands grabbed you by the hips.

“A feisty one, Gar’mak!” The sounds of the orc woman who forced you into your wedding attire spoke up, a drunken laugh leaving her plump lips. “Alfhild, better not leave it out of your sight.”

You hated how clear the English they used was to your ears, how human they all sounded, how when they spoke in your native tongue-- it was meant for your ears. She wanted you to know, to let the fear soak into your chattering teeth.

The orc keeping you captive merely laughed, tossing your weightless body to his shoulder just like he had done when pulling you from the cobble of what was left of your tea shop.

You screamed, biting down on what you could reach from under your veil. But the salty, thick flesh from beneath you was aloof, offering no reaction as a double pat was brought to your buttocks.

“Now now, Djenifor, don’t fuss.” Gar’mak mused, each step he took forward making your body thump against his. He held a tight grip on you, not caring for the scratches you layered his back with. “I won’t try to hurt you… I will keep you safe, try my best to keep your fragile body in one piece.”

The coldening night air was a drastic change to the room of heavy body heat and weighty movement where the wedding ritual and festivities were held. Now, it was quiet. You could hear the loud chattering begin to drift, songs and chants rising again as they once had when you were unceremoniously married to your new ‘husband.’

Gar’mak patted your butt again, moving down to rub at the back of your thigh with a gentle, firm rhythm. He seemed to hum to himself, satisfied with the nights events. Scored himself a spouse and the treasured belongings of a human town.

He must be pretty proud of himself, you seethed.

The tears were beginning to sting the corners of your eyes, frantically scratching at the orcs back when you felt the warmth of an enclosed area meet your skin.

“No, no--” You began to kick, trying to shove off the arm holding you steady on the orcs’ shoulder.

“Settle down now--” Gar’mak ordered softly, putting you down on the fuzzy ground. You managed to hit his face, the hard scrape of tusks scratching your hand as a firm nose nearly cracked your knuckles.

The orc went silent. Quiet in rage, he rips your veil away with a grip hard enough to tear hair out if he so desired.

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the dimly lit tent, lanterns glowing at the corners as the mass of a creature leers over you. You forgot just how… big, orcs were. From afar they looked small, bigger than a human, but no threat due to distance. But now… he was above you, twice your height, twice your size, twice if not thrice everything. His palm the size of your skull, his eyes gleaming and looking over your body, weak with exhaustion and fright.

Small, intentional scars were placed under his auburn eyes, some kind of tribe symbol you were sure. Thick eyebrows furrowed at the way tears decorated your cheeks, the exhales from his flat nose blowing hot breath on your chest.

“Please, I, I can’t, I don’t belong--” You fumble over yourself, trying to slide back on the floor of soft wolf and caribou furs.

“Shh, shh now,” The orc puts a hand to your ankle, an action that jerks you to a stop. “I won’t hurt you, lebam…”

You sincerely doubt that, but the sentiment sounds genuine from his broken, baritone voice.

“What’s your name?” He asks, pulling slowly with immeasurable strength at your leg. You slide towards him with little strain, even with your muscles going rigid for you to stand your place, your fingernails digging into the ground beneath you.

You shake out your name, reluctant to give it.

“Ah. What a human name; a scared wee human, aren’t you?”

You don’t dare to respond, waiting for the sound of your snapping ankle.

“They call me Gar’mak, though that may be too difficult for simple human brains. Mak is fine, little Djenifor…”

You don’t want to call him anything, to refer to him at all-- yet, he looks keen to hear you say it. There’s an expectation in his eyes, a flick of his giant tongue against his lips.

“Mak..” You mumble, trying not to gag.

“Yes…” The orc’s hand frees your leg, caressing up to your cheek as he wipes away a forgotten wet stream of tears.

“Please, just let me go--” You beg under your breath, scared of the way he seems to be eyeing your knees, your frail neck, your round ears.

“You know that’s not going to happen,” He doesn’t seem angry at you for asking, just… Sorry. “We are bound forever now; even the gods couldn’t tear us apart. Wherever you go, I will find you. Whenever I leave, you will feel me gone. By sunrise tomorrow your scars will be given, and you will become one of us.”

The panic begins to settle once again in your stomach. Maybe, tonight, yes-- tonight, if you could escape. You could-- just maybe you could find a way, past their all-seeing eyes, their all-hearing ears, escape to the mountains they took to get you here.

“But can’t you change it back?” Your voice cracks, expression twisting into an ugly cry as you feel thick fingers dig into your hair. “Just, we can go back-- just let me be…”

You sob for what feels like too long, hours maybe, Gar’mak’s eyes never leaving you as he pulls you to his thigh. He brings a cotton blanket to your legs as he shushes you, the tenderness of his eyes a foreign sight compared to the façade he forced you to endure during the night's festivities.

When your cries had turned to miserable, quiet sniffles, a muscled knuckle finds its way under your chin. He turns your head to look at him, eyes red and droopy as you try to think of any method of escape.

“You’ll learn to like it here, human.” Gar’mak thinks for a moment, caressing your leg with a single finger.

“We are far more civilized than your kind-- far more… Fair. You’ll be treated well. The spouses of warriors do not go unfed, unbathed. Unloved, most of all. You will be cherished; I will cherish you, as long as you let me.”

The orc grips your jaw in his hand, firm enough to where his fingers made dimples in your cheeks, but softly to where you felt like a mouse in someone’s closing palm. A kiss was planted to your temple, your body pushed deep against your husband’s as he holds you close enough to suffocate. You wait for him to choke life from you, and yet it never comes. He is harsh with his touches, but not harsh enough to hurt.

“Please, let's finish tonight how it was meant to go, hm? Let me hold you…” He murmurs, all soft and lamblike into your ear. It sends shivers down to your soles, hot breath layering your neck as he looks at your lips with such intensity.

You fear saying no, but the word rises up to your throat.

It doesn’t make it out in time. Lips engulf yours, the stiff coldness of bone-colored tusks brushing against your face as Gar’mak holds you tight. Just one kiss is enough to make his demeanor act up.

Your unassuming, comfort-driven spot on his lap is altered swiftly. You find yourself straddling the orcs’ waist, a hand pressed against the back of your head as your tied hands remain useless against his chest.

You don’t know whether to speak, to scream, to bite at his lips-- but you remain flexile, afraid of the rough hand holding your skull so tenderly, the other gripping your thigh to wrap around his flank. You’re like a resistant doll, licked lips becoming tender as the orc pushes against you with such tenacity.

You see his eyes open, staring into your wide, unblinking ones. They seem to communicate more than just lust-- its desire, desire for your reciprocation.

Gar’mak waits… he kisses you, eyes narrowed on standby for your submission. They’re hazy and make you wonder if this is enough to make him release his brutish side, the part that showed no mercy for your neighbors or your home. What would happen, if you broke away or dared to claw at him?

That thought doesn’t stay for long, not when the tough hand on the back of your head moves to your neck, squeezing just enough to bruise.

You wince, lips pursing in reaction just in time for his next tongued assault.

That slight opening of your mouth, the press of your lips against his, is all he needed. You find yourself twisted beneath his body as you’re brought to lay on the furry floor, the orc lying above you.

“That’s right, I’ll be soft Djenifor… just do as I command, keep smelling so sweetly for me.”

Scars litter his shoulders and collarbone, metal necklaces and piercings dangling on his olive-green, lightly haired chest as you fear how much it would take for him to crush you.

He’s so quiet, letting go of your mouth as the orc’s curled tongue licks a slow, wet stripe down your jaw. His hands grab your thighs to wrap your legs around him, intent on keeping you steady and so close you practically breathe the same air.

Before he leans to kiss you feverishly again, the orc brushes your cheek with his knuckles, petting down the amalgamated fabrics you wear to commemorate your wedding.

“You’re so lucky I found you first, that I had saved you from that rubble without layering an extra scratch; my brethren would not be so kind.”

He kisses your cheek, a soft, hungry grin playing on his plumped and tusked lips. “So stay pliant like this for me, wee human, and you won’t feel any pain.”

You lay rigidly, squeezing your eyes shut as a tender, all-consuming kiss eats you up, preparing you for the night’s affairs.

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barbiesmuse · 7 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩 DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָsimon riley + fem!reader

summary: in which simon riley decides to message you after a year of no contact!

tags: angst, romance-ish, talk of abusive parents, simon's an asshole, slight age gap (27 - 30!), cursing, very slight body image issues, simon is a wreck, not proofread oopsie! talia talks: this is my first post!! this account is inspired by @audisive, much love to this blog! if this does well a part two will be out soon!

One year. Today officially marks one year since Simon left without any warning. He didn't even leave a note. You were a wreck. No one was able to get in contact with you for a month. Simon was your first everything. You questioned yourself over and over. You often find yourself looking in the mirror. You studied your appearance in the mirror. Was it the way you looked? Was it your age?

It took almost two months for you to even begin working again. It wasn't as if Simon was your world, but he was a very important part of it. After you got yourself back on your feet life was beginning to get better. You moved to a new city, got a new job, found new friends, and left your old self behind. A change of pass, at least that's what you wanted.

No matter how much you wanted to forget the day he left you couldn't. He was always there in the back of your mind. The sound of his voice replaying over and over again. You would catch yourself staring into space, thinking of what life would be like if he was here now. How would he touch you? Simon left a large wound, and you felt as if it wouldn't heal anytime soon. You wondered if would you be engaged or married. Simon left like you were nothing to him, but it was quite the opposite.

Leaving you was the hardest thing Simon had ever done. Simon wasn't one for crying, he despised it. Yet as he took one last look at your once-shared home he felt a singular tear slip down his cheek. The salty liquid traced the curve of his face and slipped into his mouth. The taste of his tears brought him back to himself. Crying? Pathetic.

Simon Riley grew up in a rough house. His father was either absent or drunk. His mother died when Simon was young. He grew up hardened by abuse and war, but when he saw you it all went away. You were the light of his life. He often got lost in the darkness, thoughts of trauma and PTSD clouding his thoughts. You, you were the one thing that stopped him from destroying himself. Now that he didn't have you, he told himself he had nothing to lose.

Simon had stopped going to work, he had stopped eating, and he had stopped speaking. It was as if he wasn't living anymore, like his heart stopped. Simon was staying with his godmother, she was the only constant thing in his life now. He stayed in his room, only coming out once a week to eat. His godmother, Delena worried about him. She had known Simon since he was a child. She watched him grow up, and this was not like him.

Today was the day that marked a year, and you and Simon were both a mess. You wanted nothing more than a warm embrace from Simon. You imagine the creaking in the floorboards was his large boots trudging up the stairs. You imagined he had just come back from deployment, you would smile as he walked into your once-shared room. The sound of your phone “ding!” brought you out of your daydream.

Simon.

As Delena knocked softly on Simon's door she heard the sound of Simon's heavy breathing. Delena didn't wait for confirmation to walk in. She found Simon on his bathroom floor. A bottle of Disaronno lay by his side. His phone was cracked and his balaclava was nowhere to be found. His eyes were red, his lips were chapped, and his hands were shaking. He looked up at Delena with tired glossy eyes. He stayed away for a reason, he was going to ruin you. He wasn't healthy, no part of him was healthy. He was toxic, the only good part about him was you. But he didn't have you anymore.

Simon looked at Delena as she sat down next to him, her back sliding against the wall until she hit the ground. She chuckles softly and his lips curl into a tight grin. “I texted her,” Simon says, he picks up his cracked phone and shows it to his godmother. She gives him a sympathetic look and rubs his back. She knew that you were going to text back. She wished deep down you wouldn't. He had left you, who's to say he won't do it again? But she could never say that to her godson.

“Well, that was very brave of you, Si.” The older woman says. Her hair was a gorgeous silver color. Her nails were painted a dark red. Simon liked the way she carried herself, with class and elegance. Simon, on the other hand, was a mess. She sighed as she realized there was a slight chance he might never get better. Delena wasn't sure if she was okay with that. She was getting too old.

Your breath hitched as you read the text. Simon had texted you? Why? You didn't want to respond, you hated him. He left you, he never called or texted. Not even a letter, so why should you respond to his text? Yet as you open the message, your heart drops.

Simon. I miss you, love.

talia talks: this was fun to write!! part two will be on it's way soon! xoxo!

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florencemtrash · 11 months ago

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter One

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warning: Mentions of death and violence

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Layers of gosammer fabric rippled with movement as you smoothed the bodice of your dress. Warm sunlight flooded through the stained glass windows, getting trapped in the sheer material until you glowed shades of yellow and blue. You tugged the sleeves over your hands and took a deep breath.

It was a great honor to be invited to the Sun Palace, and for the Summer Solstice no less. The other Librarians of the 12th sector athenaeum - lovingly nicknamed The Alcove - had been absolutely astounded when the letter came addressed to you, hand delivered by pegasus. It was an honor. It was a great honor. You knew this. But your heart buzzed uncomfortably within your ribs like a bird desperate to take to the skies.

“Do I really frighten you that much?”

You swiveled your head to the side, finally acknowledging your High Lord after minutes of silence. Helion shot you a smile full of light and warmth. Light and warmth. Everything about Helion screamed it - from the sunburst crown on his head to the glow of his brown skin. He may as well have been carved from burnt amber. Helion’s very presence was enough to melt the hearts and open the legs of any fae - male or female. Even now you saw some of the female courtiers shooting you envious looks full of heat and longing. It made you cringe uncomfortably.

You shook your head, feeling the weight of the pearls woven into your hair settle at the base of your neck.

“No.” You said quickly, “I apologize, High Lord. It’s not you. I just… haven’t been around this many people before.”

“You take after your mother,” Helion said, that bright smile slipping into something fonder, more full of regret, “She was never one for parties either.”

You’d taken after your mother in just about everything - your eyes, your hair, the way you walked, even the way you took your coffee. Maybe if your mother had allowed you to be around Helion earlier on you would have learned his charm, absorbed his charisma like a sponge. As it was, the only thing you’d inherited from Helion was a stubborn power you couldn’t control.

You clasped your hands together behind your back, as if that would be enough to hide your talent. With the ability to absorb knowledge and memories through touch, Clairvoyants were incredibly rare and highly sought after in the Day Court. Helion had worked hard to conceal your power and your identity, so when you’d been given first pick of athenaeums following your apprenticeship, it was to no one’s surprise you’d chosen the one furthest from the city.

The Alcove. Your home. How you wished you were there now, nestled away in your attic apartment above the library. Comfortable. Alone.

Helion’s gaze softened as he regarded you. He shouldn’t have been as much of a stranger to you as he was. But he was no stranger to your work - always methodical, always precise, always handled with the same degree of love and attention that fae showed their children. You’d nearly died protecting The Alcove when Amarantha ransacked the Day Court libraries, smuggled books and knowledge across court lines during her reign.

Perhaps you had inherited some bold streak from Helion after all.

“How many times have I told you to call me Helion?”

“Six.” You said without hesitation.

“Of course you would remember such a thing,” He said, clicking his tongue, “Would you take a turn around the room with me?” He asked, extending a poor man’s olive branch, “I have guests I would like to introduce you to.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You’d planned to remain glued to this pillar until nightfall, half hidden by the quartet that was beginning to rush the tune in time to the next song. The spirited piece was coming just in time for champagne drunk party goers to make their way to the dance floor.

You sighed, “Must I?” The performance of it all - the dress, the hair, the party, the pearls - was more than you were used to, something orchestrated by Helion to finally get you to leave The Alcove. He would have dragged you to more parties if you weren’t so stubborn about ignoring non-business related correspondences. Hence the pegasus.

“Your High Lord commands it.” Helion said smugly and moved his arm out to the side, gesturing for you to leave your little bubble of safety. “And you may very well come to thank me.”

You rolled your eyes, “Fine.” You waited a moment before saying, “Helion.” The casual name felt unfamiliar on my tongue.

He clapped his hands together, attracting the attention of one of the sons of Autumn. He shook his head of flames and scowled into his whiskey, handsome features twisting into something uglier.

“Finally!” Helion’s voice boomed, “Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

You chased after his long strides, hoping to stay within the radius of space fae gave to a High Lord. And it worked. For some time. You bounced between various pockets of fae, dodging servers with platters of cheeses, wine, pastries, and more balanced on shoulders. Helion’s deep voice reverberated off the walls as he laughed and clapped people on their shoulders, whispered in their ears, and threw casual, flirtatious winks. He shielded you from the vipers and introduced you to his friends as a talented researcher instead of his bastard daughter. But despite your best efforts, someone still touched you, and your power reared its ugly head.

It happened when one of the Summer Court delegates, drunk and giggling, crashed into a female in a flurry of teal silk, who - like a domino - fell onto you. You landed on your knees, palms stinging from broken glass as flashes of memory and knowledge raced through your mind.

A diagram of the Day Court cities taken in secret from the 29th sector cartography athenaeum. A page ripped from one of Helion’s private collection tomes. A sketch of a still, black lake, and the being of death and destruction that resided there.

Koschei.

The name spilled onto your mind like ink in water, followed by horrible memories of slaughter and violence. Enough blood to turn the lake red.

The flood of information dulled and the female became nothing more than a willowy tower of tulle with ivory hair retreating into the crowds.

You gasped for breath, limbs shaking.

The air. It was too thin here. Too suffocating.

Koschei

“Are you alright?” A male asked. His deep, careful voice felt like the calm before a hurricane.

You jerked back from the scarred hands that reached for you, wrapping your arms around yourself as you scrambled to your feet. A horrible rip sounded through the now quiet ballroom as you tripped on your dress and tore the bottom layers. And if it couldn’t become more embarrassing, when you stood up you came face to face with none other than the Spymaster of the Night Court.

Devastatingly beautiful - were the first thoughts that came to mind. So beautiful in fact that he shook you from your visions and the horrible power attached to the lake. The edges of him flickered in and out of existence, clouded by shadows that fluttered about like smoke above a flame. You flinched when they came closer to you before being wrenched back on some invisible leash. He was as gorgeous as the rumors claimed, every inch of him seemingly carved out of black obsidion.

The flash of shame that crossed his hazel eyes quickly faded into nothing and he clasped his hands behind his back, cursing Cassian for convincing him to go without gloves tonight.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Helion neared closer to you, pointing to your bloody hands. But the pain was nothing. You thought your heart might burst in your chest from the nerves. The more you thought about your splattered remains on the crisp marble tiles, the worse you felt.

The other members of the Night Court looked on with concern. You recognized the other Illyrian warrior - The Lord of Bloodshed he was called. His wings were partially extended, shielding you from the worst of the crowd. And the High Lord and High Lady needed no introduction, decked out in their slim-cut robes and dress. The silvery embroidery reminded you of the stars in the night sky you gazed at when you couldn’t fall asleep and the rest of the Day Court denizens had long since snuffed out their lights. There was a dangerous beauty that wrapped around the group as tightly as the Spymaster’s shadows clung to his body. And you’d just embarrassed the High Lord of the Day Court - your father - in front of them.

Azriel stepped back, reigning in his shadows despite their many desperate protests, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to-”

But you ignored his words, gathered up your skirts, and ran towards the palace gardens, leaving nothing behind but a thin trail of blood and silk, the scent of vanilla, and a brooding, heart-broken Shadowsinger.

Heavy air mingled with copious amounts of perfume, gave way to crisp clarity. The sun was just beginning to dip towards the horizon, like two lovers whispering in each other’s ears as you sprinted down the stairs past two drunk Peregryn soldiers half-hidden behind a rosebush. Their tawny feathers dipped in and out from behind the leaves like ocean waves.

A child’s doll half-buried in ash. The ring of electricity in the air and the metallic, buzzing stench of blood and rot in your nose. Suffocating. Suffocating.

It was terrible. Worse than any memory you’d slipped into before.

“Y/n!”

Koschei.

Everyone had experienced horror under Amarantha’s rule and during the war against Hybern. You’d been subjected to it too many times to count. Every brush of skin, every well-meaning touch from someone else had been a cruelty.

The lake. What’s buried beneath the lake?

So why did this knowledge feel so different?

Andrian. ANDRIAN!!!

“Y/n! Stop!” Hellion’s robes billowed out behind him like sun rays, dazzling brighter than gold.

What’s buried beneath the lake?

You didn’t realize you were murmuring the words until Helion gripped you by the shoulders and spun you around. You were brought back by more comforting knowledge - Helion’s memories. Memories of you as a babe, chubby legs wobbling beneath you as you took your first steps into your mother’s waiting arms. A flood of pride entering his chest that felt more like sadness than anything else.

“Y/n!” He shook you again.

He has a room made up for you in the Sun Palace. He hides all the birthday gifts there that he planned to give to you, but never did. You are one of his greatest regrets.

You blinked rapidly, clearing out your thoughts and shoving the High Lord back with all your might. You didn’t need this right now. You didn’t need two hundred years of fatherly guilt to catch up to you. To the both of you. Not tonight. Not ever.

Without another word you winnowed away.

__________

“I’m sorry about that,” Helion said, rolling his shoulders and rubbing his hands together.

He was grateful the party had returned to its previous rhythms in his absence, but Rhysand took note of the discomfort ladeled upon his shoulders, the hints of regret in his eyes. It was a feeling he was all too familiar with.

The sun continued to slip behind the peaks of the mountains, changing the temperature of the room as the ivory and gold-plated walls began to take on a warmer shade.

“Y/n is not used to such spaces.” He explained, “I should have done more to prepare her for tonight.”

Rhysand waved off the apology. “There’s no need for apologies, Helion.”

“I do hope she’s ok.” Feyre said. With a snap of Helion’s fingers the blood had been wiped from the floor along with the spilled wine and broken glass. “Her hands-”

Azriel stiffened, his arms suddenly hidden from view by the shadows that wound up his arms. Feyre quickly changed the topic. “This Y/n, is she the Librarian you’ve told us so much about?”

Helion’s smile was a prideful one, “The one and only.” He lowered his voice, careful to shield his words from any curious ears with a faint blanket of magic, “I would love to claim the credit for helping with your last pregnancy, but in truth it was all Y/n.”

Feyre blinked in surprise. Her second pregnancy - although much better than the first - had still been a struggle. Rhysand had reached out to Helion in desperation, hoping once again for a safer method of birthing their winged-daughter. After spending months on end combing through the deepest depths of the oldest Day Court libraries, she’d delivered to them a text on cesarean sections. The tradition was a human one, and had been considered too primitive for fae, but with Feyre’s success Madja was reevaluating its usefulness. The High Lord and High Lady had much to thank you for when it came to little Velaria.

Cassian raised his brows and Azriel couldn’t help the small smile that teased his lips. For such a timid bookworm you’d saved them a great deal of trouble. All at once that sense of pride for a female he didn’t even know fell away. You’d looked at him with such… fear. Flinched away from his touch like you knew exactly the kind of monster he was when all he’d wanted to do was help you.

“We’ll have to thank her personally then.” Rhysand said.

He raised Feyre’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm and looking at her like the love-sick male that he was. He still had nightmares about Nyx’s birth - how pale Feyre had become, the stench of blood in the air, and Nyx’s tiny, motionless body. He was ready to offer you a mountain of gold for preventing such a thing from happening again.

Azriel lowered his gaze, overwhelmed by the look that passed between the two mates. It felt like an intrusion to be standing in front of them. It was hard to see his brother and Feyre so openly affectionate with one another and not feel slivers of envy enter his heart. Cassian would have similarly been glued to Nesta’s side if she’d accepted the invitation, and although Mor was reluctant to venture out into the public world of courtiers with Emerie, she would have made it clear that she was taken. It meant that Azriel was often left to stand alone at events like this, gracefully rejecting the advances of males and females who hoped to lure the mysterious Shadowsinger into their beds. He’d been close to joining you in your solitude when Helion had charmed and whisked you away.

Azriel shifted his attention to the quartet, specifically to the little alcove to the left of the stage where he’d first noticed you. You’d stood there so quiet and observant, politely declining any male who offered you food or drinks or a dance. And there was no confusion as to why. You’d looked breathtaking in a pearly gown that clung to you like wisps of fog over the Illyrian mountaintops.

“After the party I’ll take you to her apartment. Allow you all to properly introduce yourselves.” Helion said in a burst of brilliance.

Cassian prodded Azriel’s ribs, a knowing look in his eyes as he watched the now visibly uncomfortable Shadowsinger.

But if Helion noticed, he didn’t care. If there was any collection of fae with the power to break you out of your shell, it was them.

“But until then! We dance! Come now Cassian, dance with me.”

Cassian snorted as Helion clasped a muscular arm around his shoulders and heaved him over to the dance floor where fae were already congregated in a tangle of limbs and wine. Feyre and Rhysand joined soon after, the High Lady throwing back an apologetic smile as she joined the crowd with her mate and Azriel was left to stand alone once again.

Next Chapter ->

______

Author's note:

I have too many thoughts and ideas and got sucked into writing this one. Also, I wanted a nice Azriel fic to follow up Flame, Shadow, Beast so... enjoy!

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @rosebunnysblog @icey--stars @laceandsuch @coralseacourt @cherryinsalemverse @flowerprincezz @valeridarkness @annaaaaa88 @deeshag @bluesiphonsbaby @allyjoe755

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x day court reader #azriel x day court librarian #the shadowsinger and the inkbird #acotar fanfiction #acotar #the day court #helion acotar #helion spell cleaver

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niki-phoria · 7 months ago

Text

⋆｡°✩ YOU LOOK SO PRETTY / PRETTY LIKE THE SUN

sweet moments with fushiguro megumi, itadori yuuji, inumaki toge, okkotsu yuuta

notes: gn reader (no pronouns used), first jjk reaction post !! this was so hard to write ngl, header from pinterest, title from tom odell - black friday

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI is in love with you.

dusk is filled with golden rays and city lights. you walk side-by-side with megumi in a comfortable silence. these quiet moments with you had always been rare but cherished moments - a small amount of time when you both could finally breathe.

years of fighting curses had taken its toll on you. with death always just one wrong move away, megumi had grown accustomed to cherishing the little moments with you: when you made him coffee in the morning before he woke up; when you waited at his bedside after he was injured in a fight; when you forcefully put some of your food on his plate after noticing that he wasn’t eating enough.

megumi had never grown up with a view of a real romantic relationship - all of his experience came from side plots in manga and being dragged into watching movies with yuuji - but he was smart enough to realize why his heart beat so fast around you. why he blushed so easily when your hand brushed against his. why he desperately wanted more.

megumi stops when you pause in your steps, stretching out your shoulders. a content sigh escapes you as you look out towards the shore. “the sunset is beautiful, isn’t it?” you say, your eyes trained on the hues of pink and blue filling the sky.

megumi glances at the skyline, only taking in the sight momentarily before he turns back to you. all the beautiful things he’s heard about “golden hour” seem to come true. the sun peeks out from behind various buildings, illuminating your silhouette. you softly smile as you look up at the clouds above.

“yeah,” he smiles; his gaze remains trained on you. “beautiful.”

fushiguro megumi is in love with you. now, he just has to tell you.

ITADORI YUUJI is - surprisingly - not a bad cook. over his months at jujutsu high, he had become the unofficial chef in the dorms. so when you fell ill, it was no surprise when he took on the responsibility of nursing you back to health.

your body is little more than a mound of blankets when yuuji creeps into your room; a bowl of steaming soup in his hands. he moves with the utmost care as he makes his way across the room before setting the bowl down on your bedside table. despite your puffy eyes and red-tipped nose he smiles, reaching up to push a stray strand of hair away from your face.

you stir awake at his touch before slowly blinking up at him. “hi y/n,” yuuji whispers. “feeling any better?”

he receives a groan in response. “i feel like death,” you rasp out.

yuuji reaches over, resting the back of his hand against your forehead. “you’re still really warm,” he mumbles. “i don’t think your fever has gone down at all.”

his cheeks flush slightly when you reach over, taking his hand into your own. your skin is overly warm and slightly clammy, but yuuji doesn’t mind. instead, he intertwines your hands together.

“here,” he says, using his free hand to hold up a spoonful of the soup he made. “try it. maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

the metal spoon burns your tongue and the broth is a little too salty, but it soothes your throat all the same. “thank you,” you murmur. “it’s delicious.”

yuuji simply smiles brightly, holding out yet another spoonful for you. “of course.”

“do you know japanese sign language?”

INUMAKI TOGE stares at you with wide eyes, surprised by your sudden question. it shouldn’t have been all that surprising, but it was something no one had bothered to ask before.

finally, after a short period of silence, he nods. “salmon.”

toge had grown accustomed to being left out. even while around the most supportive people, he often found himself struggling to be heard - both literally and metaphorically. after all, it was difficult to communicate with others through origini ingredients.

that didn’t make it any less hurtful, though.

you smile brightly, hesitantly signing along to your words as you speak. “i’ve been practicing a little. i wanted to surprise you.”

toge’s face flushes; his jacket does little to hide the way his blush spreads across his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. your movements are a little sloppy and you’re clearly nervous, but he doesn’t comment on it. no one had ever put in this much effort to speak to him before. to not only listen, but understand what he means.

“thank you,” he signs in return. he pauses for a second, hesitating slightly before he continues. “i love you.”

“i don’t think i know that one.” toge simply smiles, leaning in to pull you into a kiss. he’ll tell you what it means soon enough. but for now, his flushed cheeks and soft smile tell you everything he means to say.

the safest place in the world is within OKKOTSU YUUTA’S arms. you can’t remember when it became a routine for the two of you. he would return home and immediately seek you out; his fingers curl around your waist and tug you closer until your back reaches his chest.

a soft sigh escapes his lips as he rests his chin against your shoulder. the pieces of your bodies fit together like a puzzle - from the way yuuta intertwines his fingers with your own to how seamlessly his arms wrap around you.

messy strands of ink black hair brush against the side of your neck when yuuta nuzzles himself even closer against you. his breath ghosts against your shoulder as he leans down, pressing a few lazy kisses over the fabric of your shirt. “i missed you.”

“i missed you, too.” your fingertips trace along little cuts and deep bruises decorating yuuta’s hands. “do they hurt?”

he catches his bottom lip between his teeth. it feels trivial to be in pain over such minor injuries, but yuuta has never been the best liar. “only a little,” he murmurs.

you frown slightly, raising your intertwined hands up to your lips. the soft kisses you press against the fresh wounds leave him breathless. with a flushed face and a soft smile, yuuta presses a chaste kiss against your cheek in return. “thank you.”

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vamxpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

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xinganhao · 3 days ago

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🍂 svt (taylor's version).

⌗ ┆love song edition ★ ₊ ˚ heartbreak edition.

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: angst... so much angst, deteriorating relationships, break-ups, exes, red flags -ish, mentions of alcohol/drinking, cussing, pet names. drabbles under the cut.

🍂 hit play .ᐟ

SEUNGCHEOL SKIPPED 🎧 i'd give you my sunshine, give you my best, but the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me. (PEACE)

seungcheol can't meet any of his friends' eyes as he grumbles on and on about you. the boys think he's drunk off his ass at this point; truthfully, he can still see and think pretty clearly. a part of him feels like he's wasting your honor, to be so openly bitching and moaning about why he shouldn't, why he can't go back to you. the short story is that seungcheol doesn't want you to be collateral damage. with the life he lives? you'll always be in the line of fire. he'd rather cut ties than have that happen. but— when someone mumbles something about seungcheol probably not being that in love with you after all? about his love being 'for show'? he almost wants to scream. you don't know me, he nearly snaps. you don't know what i'd do for them. he'd die for you in secret.

JEONGHAN SKIPPED 🎧 you said it was a great love, one for the ages; but if the story's over, why am i still writing pages? (DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS)

you don't say anything about jeonghan taking the long way home, which leaves him both grateful and frustrated. he wants you to call him out, wants you to question his intentions. anything but this. instead, you sit quietly in the passenger seat, basking in the aftermath of your last good day together. when jeonghan stops at an intersection, he dares to glance over at you. his fingers tighten imperceptibly around the steering wheel. there had been a time when the two of you kissed at red lights, when you'd quieted all his fears with the touch of your hand. there's none of that now. you keep your eyes on the road ahead, feigning ignorance at the way jeonghan is driving way below the speed limit. the light turns green; he curses the universe for it. he doesn't want to go home. going home meant sleeping, and sleeping meant waking up to a morning where you'd no longer be his.

JOSHUA SKIPPED 🎧 you had a speech, you're speechless. love slipped beyond your reaches and i couldn't give a reason. (CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS)

joshua had watched a dozen videos about how to get down on one knee when proposing. he didn't realize he'd be on both knees, begging you to stay. that's why his right knee— the one that hadn't expected the cold ground— is just a little sore. he kneads it mindlessly, watching blankly as the city flies by. he didn't even get to pull out the ring; it's still burning a hole in to his pocket. a blessing from his mother, a curse in the form of rose gold. he briefly contemplates leaving it in this train car for someone who might actually appreciate it, though he decides against it last minute. a thought occurs to him when he passes your station. it's enough to nearly make him laugh. (or burst in to tears. he can't quite decide.) joshua realizes: he's never going to be able to take a train again without thinking of you. somehow, that's even worse than the botched proposal.

JUNHUI SKIPPED 🎧 i guess sometimes we all get some kind of haunted. (MIDNIGHT RAIN)

both of junhui's hands are shaking as he takes the stage. there's smattering applause, then there's a trophy being shoved towards him, then there's the glare of a dozen cameras. he thanks his manager. he thanks his fans, his family, his friends. "and—" his breath hitches. it's a good thing that he's such a great actor. otherwise, one might've seen the flicker of pain on his expression. because he's thinking of you. wondering whether you're watching live or if you'll see clips of this on your sns later in the week. will you reach out again? or will he be left spending many midnights waiting for a text that's not going to come? he pivots, his eyes seeking out the closest broadcast camera. "and here's to getting just what we wanted," he says smoothly, flashing a grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes. this is why he keeps trying to win— so you'll have no choice but to think of him, too.

SOONYOUNG SKIPPED 🎧 choose something, babe, i got nothing to believe unless you're choosin' me. (YOU'RE LOSING ME)

"i'm the best thing at this party!" you screech, making soonyoung's face flush red with shame. he casts a glance around his surroundings to check if anybody is witnessing your outburst. big mistake. that only seems to aggravate you more. he reaches out for you, his hands closing around the groove of your wrist. there had been a time when he used to feel your pulse flutter at his touch, at his mere presence. there's none of that tonight. he's beginning to think that it hasn't been that way for a long time. you greet his hold with stormy eyes and gritted teeth, with a low hiss of "i only wanted you to see me." he wants to refute your tirade, wants to say that of course he sees you. he's looking right now, isn't he? he's— he's losing you before his very eyes and he doesn't know what to do.

WONWOO SKIPPED 🎧 if our love died young, i can't bear witness. (RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME)

"the usual?" the pitying waiter asks wonwoo. he gives her a close-lipped smile and a nod in return. when she goes in to punch his order, he feels that odd sense of nostalgia. a twisted, treacherous feeling borne from the fact that he's still visiting this damn restaurant. still asking for the seat in the corner, where the light is dim and the tablecloth is a crisp white. first real date. first anniversary. break-up. this corner has seen it all. wonwoo is twenty-eight now, but he feels twenty-three in his fantasy. as he picks at his appetizer, he imagines the new life you lead. somewhere nice with someone who's giving you everything that he can't. he doesn't blame you for leaving, for not waiting. that doesn't make it hurt any less, though. five years later, wonwoo still thinks he's going to stay here forever.

JIHOON SKIPPED 🎧 but there was one thing missing and that was the moment i knew. (THE MOMENT I KNEW)

the seaweed soup on the counter has gotten cold by the time that jihoon slips in to your apartment. you're splayed out on the couch in a fitful sleep. he realizes you haven't even changed, haven't washed off your makeup. it's all still there: the party dress, the red lipstick. all the evidence of jihoon's failure. he knows where this is heading. he sees the ending that he deserves from a mile away. still, he leaves on your coffee table a usb of what he'd been working on. he drapes a blanket over your shoulders. he considers kissing you on the forehead but he decides against it at the last minute. he doesn't think he has that privilege. instead, he takes his leave, knowing that if this was the last gift he got to give you, then he'd be somewhat content. he's always been better at speaking through his work anyway, but tonight that wasn't enough.

★ in the morning, you find the song jihoon had been working on for you:

MINGYU SKIPPED 🎧 i guess you never know; and if you wanted me, you really should've showed. (THE 1)

it shouldn't be this easy, catching up with a what-could-have-been. but mingyu still finds it to be the most comforting thing in the world. maybe too much, though, because as the two of you discuss the greatest films of all time, the alcohol makes his tongue just a little more loose. "if one thing had been different," he muses. "would everything be different today?" you know what he's asking, what he's implying. you answer his prodding with a measured sip of your own beer. he laughs, figuring he deserves that. you're not here to talk about marriage pacts and maybe's. this is nothing more than a drinking session with an old friend; mingyu tries to remind himself of that. he pushes the envelope just a teensy, tiny bit. "it would've been fun," he says as nonchalantly as he can manage. his mind quietly supplies the rest of the sentence: it would've been fun if you had been the one.

SEOKMIN SKIPPED 🎧 you can plan for a change in the weather and time, but i never planned on you changing your mind. (LAST KISS)

it's a special kind of pain, to watch someone's life unfold in pictures. it's the only place that seokmin can catch you nowadays. the squares of instagram. the tagged photos on facebook. you, looking like the life of the party. you, dancing on a rained-out pavement. he's pathetic, he knows, to be stalking an ex's sns like this. but the night is lonely and his phone has the answers to all of his questions about you. well, maybe not all of the questions. he's gnawing his bottom lip as his fingers fly over his keyboard, but it's not to reach out to you. he doesn't want to put you through that; he'll harrow everybody else before he does. the last few connections you two share have all heard from seokmin in one way or another. how are they? he'll text casually. they look like they're doing well.

MINGHAO SKIPPED 🎧 i made you my temple, my mural, my sky, now i'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life. (TOLERATE IT)

minghao waits by the door like a child reprimanded. you're a couple of paces away from him, bent over the kitchen sink— polishing plates that are already clean. it's an old habit of yours. a telltale sign that something's wrong. he almosts takes your hands in his to keep you from all your nervous tics, but then you speak. "if it's all in my head, tell me now. tell me i've got it wrong," you say, not even bothering to look up at him. minghao has never lied to you; he was not about to start now. and so he stays quiet, giving you all the answers you need. it's not all in your head. you're not wrong, his silence communicates. there's only so much of his indiscretions that you can tolerate. minghao, like always, sits and watches you— watches you learn, watches you lose, watches you leave.

SEUNGKWAN SKIPPED 🎧 sometimes i really wish that i could hate you; i've tried, but that's just somethin' i can't do. (DON'T YOU)

seungkwan will be the first to admit that he doesn't know how to be just friends with you. he wants to. wants to keep that connection in his life, wants to move past the failed relationship for the sake of your camaraderie. but as much as he tries to walk away and go on with his life, he knows it will all just be pretend. he finds someone else. that doesn't work out. he watches you try, too, with others, only for that to fall through as well. and so seungkwan is just a little guilty of smiling at you, of running in to you somewhere and staring just a little too long. he doesn't have the right to say the next couple of words, but he's also never been good at denying himself of the truth. "i missed you," he admits. past tense, he notices, so he amends. "i miss you."

VERNON SKIPPED 🎧 in my dreams, you're touching my face and asking me if i'd want to try again with you— and i almost do. (I ALMOST DO)

vernon has had a long week, thanks for asking. he would have wanted to see the city lights. and he dreams of you, too— montages where you're touching his face, asking if he wants to try again. the answer is simple; the answer is 'yes'. but he's a believer of clean cuts, of movies without sequels. so each time you reach out, there's no reply. the last couple of texts has vernon sighing because he knows what you're thinking. he knows how you think. you've probably concluded that he hates you, that he has better things to do with his time. truthfully, he's been fighting every single impulse to respond. to call just for the sake of hearing your voice. he can't say hello to you and risk another goodbye. he wouldn't survive it.

CHAN SKIPPED 🎧 dreams of your hair and your stare and sense of belief in the good in the world; you once believed in me. (HITS DIFFERENT)

chan knows he's being insufferable. he knows he's being attention-seeking, knows he's a little petty and a lot unfair. but he can't help it. the mere thought of you with someone else makes him want to hurl on the side of the street. and so he scream-sings your favorite songs in every club; he slurs your name until his friends are shoving him in to an uber. "their love was a lie, you know?" one of them tells him, one particular evening. chan only laughs in their face. that shit was not going to get him by. chan would rather have a raging hangover every morning than think you didn't love him. he'll get over it eventually, he's sure. for now, though, he orders his nth cocktail, much to his friends' exasperation. moving on had always been easy for him to do, but then came you.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: still accepting requests for my milestone event! this taylor swift love song & heartbreak series was for an earlier follower goal, so thank you for that as well. (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

#svt imagines #seventeen imagines #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt smau #seventeen smau #svt angst #seventeen angst #── ᵎᵎ ✦ mine #[ oomf. ]#[ jihoon im so sorry i keep doing this to you ]#[ personal favs : shua + jun !! WOOOH ]#[ also just a small thing -- the love song series being them 'queueing' songs and the heartbreak series being them 'skipping' the songs ? ]#[ yeah. Yeah. insane. ]#[ anyway!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you can pry angst out of my COLD HANDS ]#Spotify

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risuola · 7 months ago

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ENTRY #4 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // Your fingertips brought me back from the death.

contents: arranged marriage!au, slight hurt-comfort — wc. 921

series masterlist

„It hurts, Satoru.”

Pain. Agonizing, paralyzing pain was something Gojo had to teach himself to live with. He wouldn’t tell anyone, he’s the strongest, the honored one, he’s… a human. No matter how trained he was, how much control over his own body he had, how efficiently he managed his cursed energy, he never learned how to deal with the side effects of the cursed blessing he inherited.

It felt like he’s dying. Every time his six eyes were put to work for more than enough, a part of him was begging for an end to the suffering he had to endure. He felt like his head was splitting open from the inside out, like his brain was bleeding, his eyes were burning. He could feel the pounding of his heartbeat, fast and uneven, in his temples, ears and neck; he was sweating and frowning. He was miserable. Vulnerable. He couldn’t focus on anything and every move he made only made the anguish worse. It was a misery. Excruciation. But then–

“What do you think you’re doing?”

–then your soft, warm palms planted themselves on top of his closed lids oh so gently and Satoru realized that he held your wrist in an iron grip – a defense mechanism he couldn’t control whenever anyone got too close to his eyes. With his infinity turned off, he felt helpless against your touch, but submitted himself to your mercy and it tingled. An odd sensation that seemed to envelop his head in a protective hood of something he couldn’t understand slowly soothed the torment inside his skull. The pounding mellowed and the muscles between his brows and in his shoulders began to relax underneath the calming influence of your doing.

Satoru let out a shaky breath, one that he just noticed he was holding in, and his fingers that once wrapped around the fragile bones of your forearm now shifted to the top of your knuckles, greedy to hold your hands there longer. His senses were calming, coming to the sharpness he’s used to have and slowly he started registering more than just the balm of your hands. Slowly he became aware of you. The subtle, sweet scent of your perfume mixed with equally pleasant, slightly flowery note of washing detergent you bought recently – the one he had to carry for you the other day because you had enough bags in your hands and texted him for help. He felt the softness of your stomach against the top of his hair as you stood behind the couch on top of which he was sitting, with his head tilted back.

“You’re hurting. I’m helping you,” and the melody of your voice, quieted and gentle that now he was finally able to hear clearly once the echo of his own heartbeat stopped deafening his eardrums.

Satoru couldn’t tell what you were doing. He felt the very distinct signature of your cursed energy flowing through your palms but it wasn’t something he could recognize. He also couldn’t tell what gave away his suffering – was it the way he entered the house that day? After a week-long job outside the city, he dropped his coat and kicked off the shoes and then, without acknowledging you he nearly collapsed onto the couch. It wasn’t the first time he ignored you and surely it wasn’t the first time he was in pain in your presence. Maybe the grunt he let out when dropping his weight onto the cushions made it too obvious that he was in agony?

“How do you know I’m hurting?” He asked, too curious, too unsure to let the question go.

“You’re always hurting after those longer jobs,” you replied and he hummed, perplexed to realize that you’ve been seeing his misery before. “It’s the six eyes, right? Your head hurts when you overuse it.” Your words made him speechless; the tone you used – full of care and concern, it got him frozen for a moment or two. “You saved me many times, so I learned this to save you.”

“You learned this for me?”

“I did,” you let out a soft chuckle, the kind that flows on top of a breath without much sound to it. You moved your hands a little, resting your thumbs on top of his skin and moving them in little circles, rubbing the tension away from his forehead and temples. It felt intimate in a way and Satoru wasn’t used to stripping his infinity off to connect with other humans in such private level. “I wasn’t sure if it’s even going to work. I couldn’t test it before because it only applies to you.”

“A technique that works only on me?” He repeated the words that didn’t make sense in his mind. Why would you go so far for him? He wasn’t a man you chose to spend your life with, he wasn’t even good to you. “How?”

“Well, it’s a little mix of my cursed technique and yours and subconsciously you allowed my energy to enter your head and release the tension that built up after you overused your eyes. It’s not really reversed cursed technique, I don’t know how to explain this… but all that matter is that it works,” you concluded with a soft sigh of relief.

“Why?”

“Because I’m your wife, Satoru. Because you carry enough weight on your shoulders to pay the price of saving the world. Because you don’t have to be the strongest all the time and you don’t have to do this alone.”

taglist: @kinny-away, @anan-baban, @lotomber, @netflix-imagines, @kawliflo, @nishloves, @ghostfacefricker6969, @thejujvtsupost, @yozora7154, @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @ae-mius

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moonlight-prose · 14 days ago

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I either want to tend to Gabriel’s wounds or make some with my nails 😏

bound in the strands of permanence

a/n: knowing how intense his battles get when monster hunting, he must be so numb to the pain. because of course he is. it's been centuries of life, countless wounds, and he's unable to stop from wanting that infliction back. but in a different way. i really just word vommitted cause this was meant to be a drabble. my bad.

summary: he walked with monsters in the night, claiming their lives for a vendetta placed upon him by the church. but he found peace in daylight with the touch of your healing hands.

word count: 1.9k+

pairing: gabriel van helsing x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, love, tending to wounds, pain kink, masochism, tw: blood, breeding kink, p in v sex, rough sex, they're unhinged and in love, dirty talk, forever.

Pain was inconsequential in the grand scheme of being God's right hand. Immortality ran through his veins like a poison without an antidote. He couldn't necessarily die. People have tried, monsters have nearly succeeded, but death never asked for him to deign its doorstep.

He was bound to life on a planet riddled with evil—destined to drag each horrid creature to the pits of hell with him.

But pain was a different matter altogether.

After so many wounds, knives, bullets, arrows, he could no longer register the nerves that stretched to and fro beneath his body. They were there. Unmistakable with the phantom aches and near deaths that still plagued his eternal soul. But remembering why they came to be eventually rescinded to the back of his mind—an afterthought to all the detriments of his waking life.

Years went by before he dared to ask someone for help. But a particularly nasty wound to his shoulder was out of reach even for him. Which is how he came to stumble onto your small quarters in the furthest reaches of the Vatican.

There were other healers, other doctors who could have easily stitched up his wound. But you weren't a member of the church.

He found that ironic.

Neither of you mentioned how long it'd been since he stumbled through your doors, shoving a bag of coins into your hand, before falling onto the cleared wooden table meant for patients in the city. Not that either of you couldn't remember it. Two years, three months, and two brand new flesh wounds that barely needed wrapping.

Yet he still came anyway.

"Turn into a beast again?" you questioned, wrapped the cloth tight along his scarred abdomen.

He smiled, shuddering at the icy touch of your hands. "That was one time."

"One time too many."

"And if it hadn't of happened I wouldn't have a reason to come here."

You scoffed, tying the knot painfully, relishing a bit in the harsh grunt he let out. "You don't need a reason to come see me Gabriel."

"It's impolite to knock on a lady's door this late without a reason." He shook his head, unconsciously sliding his hand over yours that remained on his wound. "I'm not one to mistreat a lady."

"I'm hardly that. They won't even let me in the fucking church–"

Sharp eyes dragged up to your face, glaring at the pout in your lips that formed a curse. He may have been a man who found your way of life refreshing, but he was still devoted to the God above. Your mouth curled into a wry smile—hand moving to tip his chin up. To remove his gaze and place it where you wanted him to truly look.

"It's not right how they treat you," he rasped.

The familiar dark cloud of grief began to drip into his iris, shrouding his once sharp gaze that pierced each part of your soul. They called him God's right hand. The man who was sent from the heavens above. You merely thought of him as the man who gripped your heart in an iron fist—reluctant to let you go.

"I'm not one of you."

He sighed. "You could be."

"Only through the binds of marriage would I enter that place and even then, I don't entirely wish to follow rules not made of my own volition."

"Marriage," he mumbled, eyes dropping to the lip you worried between your teeth. "To whom, if I may ask?"

"To no one."

"Why?"

The way he looked at you is what threw you off guard. Intense, without boundaries that may have been set in place for other patients. He weeded out your deepest fears and silently vowed to rip each one apart with his bare hands. Monsters walked beside him in the night, but Gabriel Van Helsing was doomed to wander the daylight alone. Yet he found...he didn't want to anymore.

"If I were to ask..."

Your knees almost buckled - the weight of his inquiry slamming directly into your chest. "Ask me what?"

Gabriel looked at you as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. As if nothing felt more right than the words about to spill from his lips. To be bound to a soul meant permanence in the eyes of his God, and how lovely it might be.

To have someone he could be permanent with.

"To marry me darling."

There remained an answer to this madness. A final solemn vow you might have otherwise been able to say. But his confession hung in the air like a cloud that refused to dissipate with the change in weather. When had he fallen in love? When had he finally relented to the ache that built in his chest?

When did he realize that he came here at night for you and not for his wounds?

You wanted to give him something in return—a promise that could outlast all that threatened to rip him from you.

So you kissed him. You dragged him close—your hand tangling in his hair—and caught his lips in a kiss that damn near threw him off the table. He didn't expect to finally taste you, his heart hammering an unsteady beat in his chest. But he certainly wasn't about to complain. He met your actions in kind, gripping onto the flesh of your hips with a soft groan.

His tongue met yours—hesitance bleeding through each action—and when he found no resistance he finally devoured what he hungered for. Standing to his full height, he licked into your mouth, his hand gripping the back of your neck painfully to keep you close. Neither of you even registered what happened when he crowded you against the heavy wooden door sealed shut with a lock.

"Gabriel," you sighed, bending to let him drag his tongue down your throat.

"Say yes," he growled, rucking up your skirts as you worked the belt of his pants still coated in grime and dust. "Marry me. Be mine forever."

"God above." A gasp tore from your chest when he notched his dripping cock at your entrance.

He held you there, fixing his gaze on your face, even as you tried to drag your hips forward. "Darling."

"I want..."

"What?"

A moan rumbled in his chest when you finally looked at him—the love you kept locked away pouring out into the furrow of your brows. The tears that fell down your cheeks. Hiding it felt pointless at this time. Because you knew your answer, you knew the second he stumbled through your door demanding you help him. You knew it the moment his gaze locked on yours.

Forever would be spent here. In the safety of his hold.

"I'll marry you," you breathed.

There were few times you managed to see this man smile. Once or twice when you told a joke. More often due to the biting pain on his body as you stitched him up—a defense mechanism rather than agonizing grunts he used to give you. And now when your words settled in his mind - solidifying something he wondered about for years.

His lips bloomed into a smile that met his eyes for the very first time. Light practically shone directly from the hazel iris.

You expected him to give you an answer, a shower of words full of love. Instead he sunk into you with a harsh groan, his forehead falling to yours, mouth swallowing the cry that erupted from your chest.

Lovers existed in your life before him—a sprinkle of men who once or twice believed you'd be their wife one day. But none of them compared to the one before you. Gabriel stretched you wide enough to hurt, but he quickly sought out the small bud pulsing for attention—circling it slowly with each shallow thrust.

Your legs shook under the sensations, nails digging into his bare shoulders, and for the first time...he felt pain.

A fractured cry escaped his mouth, finding its way into yours as you sharply cut him to ground yourself. Panic flooded your veins at the thought of hurting him. Only to feel his hips slam into yours, impaling you on his twitching cock spurting precum like a broken faucet.

"Again," he rumbled, pulling out at an achingly slow pace. Only to punch back in and drag out a shout from the depths of your stomach. "Hurt me again."

"But–"

"Do it."

Cutting your nails down his back—blood welling to the surface immediately—you felt his entire body shudder. His head tipping back as he fucked into you fast enough to hurt. There was no rhythm to how he moved. Rutting into you wildly like the beast he once became—his body overwhelmed with a mix of pain and pleasure. Agony merging together with the love he felt for you.

The wet squelch of your cunt swallowing him in with each thrust echoed in the small confines of your room. Each one followed by the loud resounding echo of your moans and his ragged grunts. You felt unhinged. Probably looked like it too.

But pleasure was creeping up on you faster than you could anticipate. Your nails marred his skin with each blinding strike of his cock against your walls. It drowned you. Swallowed you up with the promise to spit you back out later.

You'd never felt so whole before.

"I can feel her begging," he gasped against your lips, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his. "Will you let me?"

"Uh-huh."

He smiled, harsh and unforgiving. "We'll have a little one running around by the time our vows are exchanged mea amor."

His words struck something in your chest—dragging out the darkest secret you kept hidden each time he looked at you. Binding yourself with him through the bonds of marriage was one thing. Having his child remained something else entirely. You almost loathed how much you loved the idea.

"Oh–"

"You'll make me a sinner," he babbled, stimulating your clit until pain began to spark up your spine. "A child before marriage. What will God think?"

"G-Gabriel!" A violent tremble began in your legs, working up your body until he was forced to hold you up with his body weight. "I-I can feel it."

He chuckled, speeding up just enough to push you over the edge. A scream echoing off the stone walls—ringing in his ears as your walls clamped down, a gush of cum coating down to his balls. What he wouldn't give to see that again. Your face screwed up in pleasure, pain bleeding into his body with each scratch of your nails.

"It will simply have to take," he gasped, spilling into you with a cry of his own.

Seconds bled into a minute and yet he couldn't stop cumming. The sticky warmth of it trailed down your legs and dripped onto the floor. And he merely shoved back into your—keeping it from spilling out entirely. Intent on keeping each promise he made.

Kissing your cheeks, he found your lips with a sigh. "Take this."

"What?" you mumbled, vision blurry with tears.

The cold kiss of metal on your finger stirred you back to life. "Until I find a jewel meant to sit on your hand."

His insignia burned through your chest, claiming you under the very name he sought to learn more about. You were to be his. A Van Helsing of your own volition. It should have terrified you.

Yet the fear was nowhere to be found.

"I love you Gabriel. I should have told you years ago..."

With a soft kiss to your forehead, he curled his arms around your back. "Then tell me again tomorrow."

And each day after that.

#van helsing x reader #gabriel van helsing x reader #van helsing x you #van helsing x y/n #van helsing smut #gabriel van helsing smut #van helsing #gabriel van helsing #my writing

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anyarose011 · 2 months ago

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"Crawling Back to You" {Aemond x Reader}

Summary: It started with a night out in King's Landing, then a fake name, and then a disagreement. Some time after cooling off, and after a job gone wrong, you and the one-eyed prince come to...an understanding in the rain.

Part 2 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Oral sex (f and m receiving), nudity, groping, talk of death, swearing, canon-typical injury, sexual harassment (not done by Aemond), and mention of past child SA

Heyyyyyy pookies. So I just started my senior year and it's been hectic. BUT I hope this long ass chapter (it took me forever) makes up for it! I'm also not sure how accurately I'm writing Aemond. I mean, I know HBO is making him into the edgiest edge lord, but I'm taking creative liberties i guess. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 8.5k

“It’s a pleasure to finally put a name to your face. One that fits its beauty.” He smiled.

You lowered your gaze, fighting the smile on your lips. It was a stupid compliment, one that you had heard several variations of the rare times men would flirt with you those days. But…it felt different from him.

Still, you merely scoffed, setting the jug on your hip. “Do you want to lead the way, or should I?”

“Go ahead; considering you believe I’ll harm you somehow.”

“See?” You decided to tease instead of defy as you began to walk up the cobbled hill. “You are funny.”

Aemond scoffed, following you. “Did I ever deny it?”

“How you reacted when I first said it never gave me a clear answer.”

“Shouldn’t you change?”

You looked back at him. “What?”

Unashamedly, his eye trailed over your body and yours soon followed. Your nipples were perking through the thin material of the dress.

“Seven Hells.” You cursed, bringing the jug in front of yours.

Aemond came to your side, a hand on your back and leading you up the hill. “You don’t wear a corset?”

“Not with this. I’m meant to lure lustful men, remember?”

“Perhaps you can tell me where you tailor so we can get more appropriate clothing?”

Hell no.

“Or,” you suggested. “I could teach you how to properly steal something?”

“You need to be able to not draw attention to yourself to do that.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“I have no doubt, but the clothing off a man’s back?”

You paused for a moment before replying. “Yes, actually; I even managed all of one’s undergarments.”

Aemond shook his head, pulling his hood farther up to hide his smile. “I mean more so with that dress.”

“It might surprise you, but that is how I robbed him blind.”

“I mean in the sense that-.”

“-I understand.” You shut him up, but not aggressively. The two of you passed by more and more people through the many alleys of King’s Landing. When you got to the main roads, you would’ve lost Aemond in the crowd if it weren’t for the fact his hand had traveled from your back to your arm.

Maybe it was because he was paying you, or maybe it was because you didn’t know how touch starved you had been until it felt like his hand was simultaneously burning and soothing you; but you welcomed his touch.

As you continued to brave through the busyness of the city, you managed to spot a hobbling man wearing a long cloak with a drink in his hand. You smirked at your companion.

“Are you watching?”

He nodded, and how he looked you up and down briefly didn’t escape you. “I’m watching.”

You handed him the jug of water and approached the slightly incapacitated man. You pitched your voice up when you asked. “Ser?”

The man glanced up at you through hooded eyes, and he grunted in response.

“Are you alright?” You feigned concern, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to hold him up.

“Aye.” He sighed. “Much better now that you’re here.”

You giggled, leading him. “You’re too kind.”

“If it’s possible, could that kindness be repaid?”

“Let me at least have your name first,” you turned him down a spacious alleyway where there were less people. “Then I will know what to scream.”

“Gaius. You may-oi!”

You snatched the cloak right off his shoulders and took off in a mad dash down the rest of the alley. Turning your head over your shoulder for merely a second, you were graced to watch as the drunk man stumbled over his own footing before two hands in front of you grabbed your arms. Once you were pulled around the corner, you raised your hands to strike your assailant; to which he caught both of them.

“Is it truly that easy to rob Smallfolk?” Aemond asked, not letting go of your wrists.

Snickering, you pulled away from him. “I thought you said you were watching me?”

“I was.”

“Clearly not.” You slipped the cloak over your body, tying it. “You were lurking in the shadows.”

“I still saw you.” He retorted.

Shaking your head, you bent down and picked up your jug of water on the ground. Then, you stuck your hands into the pockets of the cloak. Your face lit up, and your retracted your hand, holding four pennies in your palm.

“Come with me.” Was all you said before walking past him and continuing down the street.

Aemond was by your side once more. “And where exactly are you taking me to?”

“Are you fond of sweets?”

“I enjoy them, but rarely indulge.”

“Then I will be more of a temptress tonight without having to show any of my skin.” You said excitedly.

All the prince did was smile; somehow trusting your ‘madness’. It was a short walk from where you were to a small stand in one of the several market corners of King’s Landing. Despite the long line, you pushed to the front, ignoring all of the comments and curses from the people.

“Evening, Marija.” You greeted the older woman. “Oh my, has someone bewitched you? You look younger!”

“What do you want?” She sighed your name tiredly, but a pleasant smile was on her features.

Sliding the four pennies onto the counter, you said. “Two dishes of Northern Snow.”

“Do you have two other pennies?”

“This was all I was paid.” You sighed. “You know how short everyone is on coin.”

“Precisely why I need every bit of what is owed to me.”

Shaking your head, you lowered your voice. “Do you see the man lingering behind me? The one with one eye.”

She glanced over your shoulder for just a moment, long enough for it to look like an accident and not a stare. “Yes?”

“He’s a rich lord from Essos,” You began the lie with a truth. “and he has fallen in love with me.”

“You have always told marvelous tales, but even for you-.”

“-Marija…I have a good feeling about him.” You spoke with more insistence. “You know that doesn’t happen very often.”

The older woman looked at you for a little longer, as if to try and pick apart your deceit. Then, when she could find no trace of it, she sighed heavily. Still, she brought out two small vanilla cakes and laid them on the counter, then brought out the bowl of puffy cream.

“You better invite me to this extravagant wedding of yours.” She frosted the cakes with the cream, creating a fluffy topping that looked as if it was true snow itself. Marija then drizzled melted chocolate over both cakes before handing them to you. “Considering this handsome stranger is wealthy.”

“He is strange.” You chuckled. “A bit arrogant too, but I shall live.”

“All men are arrogant.”

“You have not met this one. Thank you, Marija.”

“Sure, sure,” she scoffed. “Give me your water as well; I’m parched.”

“Only if you give me the jug back. I need it.”

“I’ll come around tomorrow and visit Yelena in the meantime, is that alright?”

Your smile fell for just a moment, before forcing it back. “Sounds great!”

Rushing away, you could barely hear her goodbye before you soon found Aemond again, handing him the dish. His nose wrinkled as you immediately sunk your fork into the pastry. “What is this?”

“Northern Snow.” Your answer was somewhat muffled by the amount of food in your mouth. “Marija’s traveled across the realms and has been popular for her desserts. The snow is just whipped cream with sugar and some rosewater.”

“The brown parts?” He poked the treat.

“Chocolate, but it’s meant to look like horse droppings.”

“I believe I’ll pass.”

You shook your head. “I’m meant to be showing you around the joys of the city that is not just brothels. Trust me.”

He matched your seriousness. “And if I find it revolting?”

“Then you may know where I tailor.”

Humming, he smiled as he dug his fork into the cake and then into his mouth. He pursed his lips together as you watched him ponder the taste. Then, he shook his head, taking another bite.

“You must be a witch to have known I would favor it.”

Smiling victoriously, the two of you walked a short while through the congested market until you managed to find two chairs and a table.

“What did you tell her?” He asked as you sat. “The woman who made this?”

“That you were Prince Aemond and would have my head if I did not serve you a Smallfolk delicacy.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.” You agreed, taking a bite of your treat. You hesitated on your next words. “I…she’s a romantic, and I didn’t have enough for the cakes, so I told her you were a rich lord courting me.”

It was nice you didn’t immediately expect him to lash out or condemn you to your death; he seemed genuinely composed every time you were with him, and he stuck to that.

“And what was my name?” He humored.

“I didn’t tell her one.” You teased. “If you were not yourself, what would you have wanted to be called?”

He hummed, taking time for an answer before settling on. “Ciarán.”

“I’ve met one or two of those.” You nodded. “It’s a good name.”

“Might I ask you a question now?”

“Of course.”

“Do you summon your knife out of thin air, or do you hide it in your cunt?”

Choking on your food, you placed your hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. Once you were alright, you finally looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“The rumors I’ve heard of you isn’t just about your beauty.” He grinned, knowing the effect on you. “It’s known that you assault men with a blade, but I’ve heard conflicting accounts.”

You stared at him for a little longer before shaking your head, snorting. “Inside of my thigh, like a normal person. You nearly grazed it the first night.”

“Did I?” He tilted his head to the side.

Nodding, you smirked as you took another bite. It was then that his eye darkened just a hint. “What?”

Aemond didn’t verbally respond. Instead, he bunched up the sleeve of his shirt, reached over to take your face into his free hand, and wiped the corner of your lip with his sleeve. “You had something white on your face.”

It was your turn to hum at his statement, continuing to eat; yet, you would glance at him more often while you slid the fork into your mouth, tongue trying to lick the utensil clean of the whipped cream. You both finished up in silence between each other, yet the people around you only chatted excitedly, laughed boldly, or moaned and fucked one another in the dingiest of places nearby.

“Is it fun to be a prince?” You asked, pushing in your chair when you bother stood to leave.

“I wouldn’t call it such.” Aemond shrugged, following suite, and the two of you were wandering aimlessly once again.

“Then what is it you do for fun?”

“I find myself in the library often; reading, studying the history.” He listed. “I train with Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the Hand of the king.”

“You sound like you enjoy his company.”

“I enjoy making him falter as we spar.” He looked at you. “You mustn’t be so horrible in combat. On account of you supposedly taking men’s lives for bounties.”

Shaking your head, you place your hands in the pockets of the cloak. “I don’t take pride in it. I’ve also had my fair share of bruises and broken bones.”

“How many have you killed?”

“How many have you?”

Your response would’ve only worked if it had not been for the well-known fact he had killed Lucerys; something you had forgotten when you saw him again. Now, there you both were, your pace slowing equally in the silence that was the discomfort you had created.

Still, he responded. “Only one; and I assume you along with the rest of Westeros knows who by now.”

Nodding, you kept your eyes down on the road in front of you.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I did it?” He questioned.

You shook your head. “It’s not my place. If you wish to tell me, then tell me. If not, then I believe it’s your turn to ask something about me.”

Humming, he prodded. “Again, how many men have you killed?”

“The same as you.” You stood closer to him as a crew of rowdy men began to pass by. “He was an angry man; a ratcatcher fired from his profession, and to my luck, with no family or anyone to miss him.”

“It must have been his luck as well, considering what happened to all of them merely a week ago.”

You didn’t want to acknowledge the gate into that conversation. “I had only done the luring and thievery for a single moon; the worst I had come across was a bloodied nose and a bruised rib. This night…Chansey had warned me not to pursue him, but I was young and ignorant. I didn’t even get to the well before he came up behind me and…”

This was far too intimate of a story to tell someone you had only met twice; nonetheless, one of the princes of Westeros. You decided to end it as soon as possible. “He didn’t hurt me in the way you’re thinking. We struggled against one another, I had no knife with me at the time, but he did. He dropped it as we fought, we both reached for the blade, and I got it first.”

The two of you had somehow wandered into a small, quiet square; perhaps only a few other people resting from a drunken bender. Aemond, with his hands behind his back, simply inquired.

“Did he have anything of value on him?”

Shaking your head, you grinned. “Three pennies, a half-penny, and a surprisingly clean red scarf.”

“And the scarf was the most priceless.”

“Of course. I would’ve died in the winter without it.”

You both chuckled, and it was him who halted the walking. You stopped in front of him a few places.

“I hadn’t meant to kill Luke.” Aemond admitted softly.

“Lucerys?” You clarified.

“Yes; only frighten him.” He sighed. “It…it was an unfortunate outcome to what I had intended.”

If he were not himself (perhaps the rich Lord Ciarán he wished to be for that one night), then you would have told him it did not matter what he intended. A boy was dead and that put all of Westeros at risk. Still, whilst your anger was present, you understood you would never know what happened that day. You also understood his regret above all; you had no right to act like a saint.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You genuinely had no idea how to respond to him. So, you did what your mother had done for you whenever you were upset as a child: Ask what you needed from her.

His eye met yours, and you somehow found the courage to not look away from him. After what felt like a lifetime, he approached you suddenly and gradually wrapped his arms around you. Your body was akin to a corpse with how frozen you had become. Still, it didn’t last for long as you found yourself easing into his hold, your own arms around his neck. The night was so quiet, you could hear his shallow breaths in your ear.

Then, his hand slipped into your pocket.

At the sudden change of touch, you flinched out of his touch, but he merely shushed you, pulling away fully. You reached into the pocket and pulled out what he had promised you; three silver moons.

Swallowing thickly, you looked up at him and saw…an array of emotions you could not describe. So, you spoke first.

“I…I hope tonight was enough for you. I’m not sure what else I-.”

“-It was nice.” He interrupted, his gaze still on you. “Lovely, even.”

Nodding, you pocketed the moons and kept your hands at your side. “I bid you a goodnight, Little Prince.”

He rose his brow. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to call me that.”

“Will you have my head then, your grace?” You taunted.

“I should.” He walked closer to you. “But I won’t. What direction is your house?”

Your heart leapt; yet, not in the way it should have after an attractive man (you would later admit) made a forward remark.

“Oh no, I will not bother you.”

“It is not a bother if I desire to see you home safely.” He argued.

“Aemond,” you stepped back, not wanting to play a game. “I don’t want you to walk with me for the rest of the night.”

The quietness returned; but, not one of comfort. He didn’t look angry, and that was what frightened you. He merely stood tall like a man.”

“I see.”

“I didn’t mean to say it so-.”

“-Yet you said it.”

Shaking your head, you tried again. “I offended you, and I’m sorry. My house is no place for anyone other than myself and-, not even other smallfolk.”

“I wouldn’t go inside if that is what worries you. I am merely curious.”

“Look,” you approached him again, only for him to step away. “if you wish to see me again, I wouldn’t mind at all-.”

“-As long as I have coin.”

Your face went blank for a few seconds you had been so shocked by his words, and soon formed a scowl. “You had offered.”

“You didn’t reject it.”

All you could do was laugh. “You-!”

He wasn’t the one to cut you off, it had been yourself. Taking a deep breath, you folded your hands over your mouth to ponder your next words. You were tired, frustrated, and wanted to go home. So, you did exactly that.

“Be safe on your journey back to the Red Keep.” Was all you said, and you brushed past him, expecting him to call you a nasty name, or chase after you again.

But, like the first night you had met him: He did nothing.

A week later, you were back where you’d always been at night: Sylvi’s brothel. As you prettied yourself, the girls were restless; not with enthusiasm for the clients, but for the talk of war. Whether it was the fear of death it would bring, or the lust for strong men to take comfort inside of a woman.

You were a part of the former. Not as horrible as some girls (you found one vomiting up her dinner after the discussion), but you had to admit you were judgmental of those excited about it. You yourself had never experienced war…but if it was just a smidge like the violence you and other women had ever suffered multiplied by a thousand…it wasn’t something you were looking forward to.

Later, you waited in Sylvi’s private quarters (the one place no one is allowed to go during work hours unless she permitted it) until it was Chansey who came, saying she had quarry for you.

She had been with an older, retired member of the Lannister guards. He was three and fifty, she told you; fucked like an animal, but when it was over, while he desired to do it again, his body ached so horribly he could only walk.

It was meant to be easy…but for any reason at all, it wasn’t that night.

You stumbled as you brought your knife out, and he unsheathed a dagger from his side. You fought and fought, it almost being like a twisted dance; he’d strike, you’d doge, and vice versa. He swiped against your side, and it stung but you had no time to even seethe in pain as he brought his blade up to stab you again.

He’d gotten tired sooner than you imagined, and you grabbed onto his sleeve, then dragging him into a handful of barrels nearby. He landed in a crash, and he wasn’t getting up. He was still breathing as you looted him. A few Coppers and a silver Stag.

It was only then, as you pushed your way through the boisterous crowds, that you felt your head begin to lighten, and your side grow heavy. Looking down at the gnawing pain, you saw crimson soak your thin gown. Oh…you were wounded.

“Chansey?” You called out over the groaning of whores and their patrons once you made it back to the brothel. The lights seemed dimmer than usual, and with one hand keeping pressure on your wound, you used your other to tap the shoulder of the nearest server.

She gasped upon seeing you. “What happened?”

“Where’s Chansey?” You asked.

“She-she’s with someone.”

“Seven Hells, already?!” Sighing, you took one of the chalices off her tray. “Fuck it, I’ll do it myself.”

And you took it in one gulp. The server gaped at you as you took another one, also downing it like it was water. “Thank you.”

Her voices of worry were once again drowned out by the sound of constant pleasure from every corner of the brothel. Now, what the server did not tell you, was that it wasn’t the cheap wine usually served to the common payer; no…it was incredibly rich, and incredibly strong.

It also didn’t help you barely ate or drank water that day. So, to no one’s surprise but yours, you were stumbling through the entire pleasure house.

“Needle and thread?” You slurred, pulling open one of the curtains abruptly only to see five naked women lying next to two men. “Sorry.”

You felt the blood begin to seep through the small cracks of your fingers and your pressure wavering as you made your way to the next curtained area.

“Do you have a needle and thread?” You asked again, being welcomed by Valda laying on her back with a man’s head between her legs.

She screamed at your intrusion and cried your name. “What the fuck?!”

“Hey,” in your haze, you found it amusing. “do you know where Chansey is?”

“Get out!”

“Okay, okay.” you whistled at the man. “Good ser, I do declare that you are a gift from The Seven because only They know how many men actually come here to-.”

“-Wait, are you bleeding?!” She sat up in alarm.

You left immediately, taking deep breaths to try and remain upright as you continued your search. A hand grazed your shoulder.

“Are you alright, girl?”

A putrid looking man questioned with a toothy grin as you turned briefly to see who touched you. You nodded. “I’m fine, go away.”

“Hey now,” he tried to make a grab for you again, but you shoved him off. “don’t be like that.”

“I’m dying, I think I can be.”

“Let me give you a little death.” He flirted.

You grabbed the nearest curtain, tossing it aside. “For fuck’s sake, does anyone have a-?!”

Words failed as you gazed upon Madame Sylvi sucking the cock of a standing man. It was then that your eyes traveled up his body, and saw a familiar, silver-haired prince.

A prince with one eye shut, and a sapphire where an eye-patch should have been.

Your mouth ran dry at the sight of him falling apart in whimpers, and it dropped once his eye opened and immediately went to yours.

Aemond released a loud groan, tossing his head back as cum dripped through the creases of Sylvi’s mouth. She drew herself away from him, still on her knees, wiping her mouth and looking over at your interruption.

“What in the devil’s name are you doing here?!”

Your words fell into syllables as you genuinely had no idea what to say. Then, in the corner of your eye, you saw the man that had been following retreat.

“Hey!” You yelled, hobbling after him. “You sheep fucker, get back here!”

Two hands grabbed your shoulders and turned you around sharply, causing a reminder of the wound in your side. You hissed, clutching it and trying to smother a cry. You kept your head low as the person who had manhandled you led you back into Sylvi’s small room. You were laying on the pillows and thin mattress. It was then you saw Aemond Targaryen hovering above you.

“No-!” You tried to push him away.

“-Calm down.” He insisted, restraining you. “You’re going to make it worse.”

“If you touch me, I’ll carve out your other eye and feed it to your mother.” You slurred.

Instead of killing you right there, he thinned his lips. “While I don’t doubt that, you shouldn’t need to worry; I’m well spent.”

You gagged, shutting your eyes in disgust and tossing your head further into the pillow you rested on. You felt a presence soon beside you, and you opened your eyes to see Sylvi.

“My prince,” she turned to Aemond. “please wait in my personal quarters and I’ll-.”

“-I’ll hold her down.” He interrupted. “She’s a fighter, if you don’t know.”

“Believe me,” she unscrewed a bottle of alcohol. “I do.”

Sylvi hiked up your dress, completely exposing you from the waist down, and poured liquid over your side, causing a squeal to escape your throat. In an attempt to not just remain calm for yourself and everyone else in the building, you did your best to stifle your cries. It only became harder to do once Sylvi stuck a needle in your skin.

That was when you instinctively rose yourself up, only for Aemond to force you back down, putting his entire weight upon you. Your hands traveled up to his bare shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin and even scratching in an animalistic attempt to get him off of you.

Tears welled in your eyes as you took in quivering breaths and suppressed your grunts in pain. It looked like everything was underwater, and you could barely make out the face of the man above you. You only saw the shimmering jewel where his left eye should’ve been.

Then, the pain was over.

Your heartbeat began to slow down, and it was no longer the only sound in your ears. Your body rose momentarily as you felt bandages being wrapped around your waist, and your dress finally lowered, covering your nakedness. You felt a warm hand brush your face gently before it pulled away abruptly.

“What did you do now?” Sylvi sighed, tossing her materials away.

You groaned, unable to move. “Bad job.”

“And so, you decided to come and bother me?”

“Chansey was fucking someone and I-.”

“-Watch your words!” She lightly slapped your face and whispered fiercely. “Prince Aemond is here, and I will not have you speak like that.”

You laughed, glancing over at Aemond, who had put his pants on, and was working on his shirt. “Do you hear that, Aemond? I can’t say ‘fuck’!”

“Are you drunk?” She hissed.

“Nooooo.” You trailed off before giggling.

Sylvi stood, placing her head in her hands and shaking her head. Now noticing how strange the whole situation was, you pushed yourself up. Your body was scalding, but you would rather die walking away from embarrassment than in the heat of it.

“He had some coin.” you sat up. “I don’t know where it went, but I’ll find it. I have to go home now.”

“You are not walking out like this.” She pushed you back down.

“I’m not sleeping here.”

“I’ll take her back.”

The prince stood tall, slipping his patch over the sapphire. Sylvi shook her head. “No.”

“Are you questioning my authority, Madame?” He challenged.

You watched her flinch. Then, taking a breath she explained. “You needn’t bother with her; she’s a humble, little thing that doesn’t listen to anyone other than herself. Besides, you requested and paid for two hours, yet you have only used twenty min-.”

“-I will gladly spend the rest of it escorting her home.”

Again, the only sounds being heard was skin slapping alongside loud moans outside. You looked in between the prince and the Madame as if you were a child being fought over. So, coughing, you sat up again.

“Can I wear my own clothes, please?”

Sylvi, for the first time that night, coddled you. “Of course. Aemond, could you tell the first girl you see to fetch her clothes from my quarters, please?”

He nodded, leaving you two alone. When he was out of sight, she brushed the hair sticking against your sweaty face.

“Tell him you changed your mind, and you’re too weak to walk.” She begged.

“And if he says he’ll carry me?”

She scoffed. “He won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sylvi kissed your cheek as if to soothe you. “I don’t want you to be alone with him.”

“He told me he already had his fill of cunt.”

“Men can still hurt little girls without their cock.”

“Take a look at me,” you sassed. “don’t you think I already know that?”

She said your name softly. “He’s not as kind as he seems.”

“No, he’s not. He acts like he’s been born out of an ass’ ass. I mean…how you feel about the Dowager Queen-.”

Slamming a hand over your mouth, she spoke in your ear. “-Not another word from you. You listen to me; I’ve come to know him for the years I’ve spent with him longer than the weeks you have had with him.”

“If he’s so horrible,” you took her hand away. “then tell me what he has done.”

“He-.”

“-Never mind, I don’t care.”

Instead of stepping into the room, Aemond had tossed your set of clothes through the curtains, landing on the floor. Without words, but with looks that could kill, Sylvi helped dress you and then led you out of the brothel.

It was downpouring, and while your clothes thankfully covered almost every inch of your skin, save for your face, you weren’t in the mood to be bathed in rainwater. Sylvi hadn’t even wished you a proper goodbye; just nodded to a hooded Aemond beside you and went back inside.

“I assume you can walk?” He asked, almost annoyed at his own idea to walk you home.

“You’re not going to carry me?” You teased.

“No.”

Sighing dramatically, you took a few steps out into the rain, and immediately felt agonizing pain. Well, not as bad as earlier, but it hurt. Still, you decided to follow the best given advice: Walk it off.

“Stop, stop.” Aemond shook his head after you limped four more steps, coming to your side. “Lean against me.”

You didn’t argue, draping your arm over his shoulders. You both walked as quick as you could in the rain, you giving him directions the best you could (he had to turn around twice to go back to the same fork in the road) until you tapped his shoulder.

“Wait-wait, I don’t feel good.”

“Seven Hells.” He cursed, pulling you over to the side of the street. Grabbing your hands he placed them on the nearest wall, standing behind you to guide you.

“Hey, hey!” You rose your voice. “Don’t-don’t you even think of hiking my skirt up!”

“You’re going to smell like death in a moment, why would I ever-?”

“-Because men are…are…”

You gagged, and Aemond’s hands immediately vanished as you threw up what little you had eaten that day. Your throat was on fire the whole time, making the chill of the rain even more apparent.

“Oi!” An older man yelled. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

You nodded, wiping your mouth and turning over to look at him standing in a doorway of his shop. “Yes, thank you!”

“Do you know that man with you?”

Before Aemond could say anything, you pat his shoulder affectionately. “I’ll have you know, this is Lord Ciarán of House…Strong…Man, Strongman. He’s one of the richest men in Westeros.”

“Is that so?” He nodded, then looked at your companion. “Lad, do yourself a favor and put your old lady to bed.”

Aemond forced a smile, taking your arm and returning it back to its proper place over his shoulder. The two of you were on the road again, you leading him blindly throughout the streets. The rain felt nice at this point; not exactly, but your throat had been parched, so most of the time, you were holding your mouth up and tongue out like a child to catch the rainwater.

At one point, he hissed in pain, his hand coming up to his eyepatch.

“What is it, what’s wrong?!” You gasped.

“Nothing.” He cursed. “’Just keep going.”

Reluctantly, you carried on through King’s Landing until you reached your home.

“Okay, we’re here.” You stopped him a few minutes later.

Aemond looked at the building before him; it was a bouchère. “Here?”

“No, down there.”

He followed your gaze, and sure enough, there was a set of stairs to the side leading down. Carefully, you both scaled down the steps, and entered your home.

There was no leaking anywhere, to your surprise. With only the little amount of light within the sitting room, you knew Aemond (even with one eye) could see just how much dust there was on the furniture.

“Hells,” he sighed heavily, slipping off his cloak before you could stop him. “how do you live in this humidity? I can barely breathe.”

“I-.”

“-Vivi.” A sweet, tired voice called for you.

In the corner of the room, in her usual chair, was your grandmother. Her eyes drew up to the door once you entered, and they were alight.

“I thought you were out for too long.” She stood.

“Evening, Gigi.” You staggered over, embracing her. “And how was holding down the fort?”

“Some mice almost came in, but I showed them who was the boss around here.”

“I’m sure you did.”

It was only then did she fully realize there was someone else with you; a man. A man with silver hair. She gasped, turning back to you.

“Siobhan, you didn’t tell me the king was visiting!”

You cackled. “Gigi no, this is my friend-.”

She gently took his hand into hers, kissing it. “-Your grace, you must forgive my dear girl; she has a knack for getting into trouble, but not for telling me things.”

And then, Aemond did something you weren’t expecting. He placed his other hand over your grandmother’s, smiling.

“All is forgiven.”

Her grin was contagious as she pulled her hand away to hike her long skirt up, walking to the kitchen. “Oh, I shall make tea! Imagine what Cassian would think?” She chuckled. “Jaehaerys himself in our house!”

The name she uttered sobered you up; not all of you, but enough for terror to return into your body. Once she was out of sight, with a growing fear in your eyes, you looked at Aemond.

“You-you must understand, she hasn’t been herself since I was a child. I don’t think she’s even aware there is-was another-.”

“-I’m not a fool.” He stopped you. Noticing you had the face of someone who would vomit for the second time that night, he said. “I told you; I enjoyed reading the histories. I’m well aware the king before my father was Jaehareys.”

Feeling as if you could breathe again, you rested against the wall. “Thank you.”

Aemond hummed. “Why ‘Gigi’?”

“She never liked me calling her ‘Grandmama’.”

“And who’s Siobhan?”

Your eyes drew to the ground. No mice were in the house, but a few spiders had made their way in. “My mother.”

“Ah.” Was all he could manage.

“She uh, she died when I was one and ten; that’s when Gigi…”

“How?”

“What?”

“How did she die?”

Something clogged your throat, and your head felt heavy all over again. Swallowing the lump, you tried to find the words to-.

“-Forgive me. “Aemond spoke. “I shouldn’t have prodded.”

“No, you-.” You shook your head. “I understand your curiosity.”

And there you two were, against the wall in silence. Sighing you finally said.

“She forgets what she was meant to do when she enters a room with a purpose.” You explained. “I guarantee you, she’s doing a puzzle instead of making tea. We don’t have the best leaves anyway.”

He nodded. “Do you wish for me to leave, then?”

Your eyes went to one of the only windows in the house; the long, thin panel at the top where you could see the feet of everyone in King Landing if it were a nice day. The rain came down harsher, the spattering of water being almost too loud.

“You can stay until the storm eases,” you answered. “if you want.”

“I would prefer it.”

Nodding, the heaviness of your head did not cease, and your eyes drifted to the doorway in the back of sitting room. You made your way through it, glancing back at Aemond.

“If I may be candid, I’m quite exhausted. So…unless you’d prefer being called ‘Your Grace’ by my grandmother, then you’re more than welcome to talk with me in my room.”

“Hm, the former sounds tempting.” Despite his words, he followed close behind you.

You pushed open your door, took a few steps towards your bed, and lowered yourself to lie down with a sharp wince. The prince took his time observing your room, taking in every little detail. From the residue of a mess being pushed under your bed, to old childhood art pieces up on the wall.

One piece had caught his eye the most. A sketch of a woman’s face; a haunting gaze in her eyes that would make anyone believe she was watching them.

Much like yours…

“This is Siobhan?”

Better to use your mother’s name as if she were a stranger instead of calling her ‘your mother’.

“Gigi drew that.” You smiled lightly. “It was on one of her namedays.”

“It’s beautiful.”

His compliment unnerved you before it flattered you. You deflected with a joke. “Beautiful enough to have her paint the Targaryens the next time they so desire it?”

“If she cannot remember to boil tea-?”

“-She is herself again when she does or speak of things she loves.” You sat farther up against the wall behind your bed “Even if they’re things that no longer are with us.”

He sat at the edge of the mattress. “And what are some of those things?”

Oh, where to start? As your mind rattled over what exactly to say first, you truly looked over Aemond for the first time. It was strange; you had acknowledged his attractiveness for just a moment, but never delved more into it.

Then, as you stared at him, you knew exactly what to tell him.

Giggling, you began. “Cassian was my grandfather; I hadn’t known him, he died before I was born. Still, if it’s not him she speaks about being in love with, it’s ‘Elio’; a Dornish man, her first love.”

“Some might say they are far greater than the one you marry.” He shrugged.

“She’s never told me his real name.” You leaned forward. “She said that he had to keep it secret from her for a long time, and he only told her after she got drunk, and he thought she wouldn’t remember.”

The two of you laughed lightly, and you kept going through your giggles. “He-he was only in King’s Landing for a year and went back to Sunspear. They would send ravens to each other, but then he stopped one day. She married my grandfather, had my mother, he died, and that was life.”

“And then there was you.”

You nodded, thinning your lips. “And then there was me.”

“You’ve talked about your mother, but you haven’t mentioned your father yet.”

Sighing, you rubbed your finger into the blanket you rested upon, looking away from him. “When my grandfather’s heart gave out, Gigi had to take on more work at the tailor’s and they still weren’t making enough for food. So…my mother took up working with Sylvi. She was fifteen, and Sylvi only let her cook and clean. When she was of age, she let her go to bed with the men for her coin. I could’ve walked past my father, and I wouldn’t be able to know.”

Aemond stared at her, nodding. “You’re a bastard.”

“It’s the one time I enjoy being smallfolk.” You shrugged. “I can just as easily lie and say my father died while married to my mother.”

“No one else knows?”

“Sylvi and Marija; the woman who gave us Winter Snow.” You scoffed. “Some old neighbors who’ve thankfully died, but I still remember their insults as I passed by them when I was just a child.”

He hummed, and you did not blame him for not saying anything after you. The two of you just existed in your childhood bedroom, the rain still beating against the roof, but not quite as hard this time.

“What were you like when you were a boy?” You questioned.

“Not like my brother or nephews.” He answered right away. “They…teased me a lot.”

“I’ve never had brothers or sisters, but aren’t they meant to?”

“Not like how they did.”

Oh…so it was bad. You wouldn’t ask him how horrible it was, knowing that there are some things no one would ever want to speak of.

“I’m sorry they did.”

He shook his head. “No need, it was years ago.”

“It was still wrong.”

Aemond didn’t say anything; didn’t even look at you. Then, for some reason…you felt compelled (maybe even okay) to tell him. “My mother she…died the same way my grandfather did.”

“His heart.”

“We-we think so. It’s strange though; she was so young, and just one night we were eating dinner, she stands to go tend to the fire…and she fell. It…it was as if her soul had been sucked away from her and all that was left was her body.”

“And you think you’ll die like her.”

Swallowing thickly, you had hoped he didn’t see right through you about that; but at the same time…how freeing it felt to be seen even in the most shameful and terrifying moments of life.

“She was the main provider for our house.” You went into more detail. “Gigi tried her best, but it wasn’t enough. My mother…Sylvi hasn’t told me everything she did to earn enough coin, and I don’t think I want to know. Many healers have said that people dying from a bad heart at such a young age is due to stress. I don’t know if they’re right, and even when I was one and ten, I did everything in my power not to feel so, but Gigi would wander around King’s Landing late at night, or we couldn’t afford food for days on end…”

You were vomiting all of your troubles onto him, it was disgusting; but, once you started, you couldn’t stop. The storm had picked up again, and from how the wind shook the walls of your room, you thought they would all crumble.

“Sylvi knew of us struggling, and she paid for our meals. I was to become an indentured servant to her, like how my mother was; cooking, cleaning, running odd errands…but she paid me in coin as well. I think-I think she thought I was going to follow in my mother’s footsteps when I was of age, but I refused. That’s when some of the girls and I came up with a way for me to make extra coin, and here we are.”

“She never let anyone younger than seventeen be a whore?”

For a moment, you pondered how that was the one thing he got from your nervous ramblings. Still, you decided it wasn’t best to think about it. “She didn’t want men bedding little girls.”

“I suppose it’s different for girls.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It was my thirteenth nameday when my brother brought me to Sylvi’s pleasure house.” He said it as if it was common knowledge. “He said I needed to know everything there was about women. Your Madame certainly taught me well. It makes sense I suppose; girls are taught to be more ashamed about it.”

Even with the storm still going outside, the only sound you could hear was the beating of your own heart. “…What?”

You remembered what it was like when you were that age. Your body felt strange, you bled between your legs for the first time, you wanted a husband right away one moment, and then wanted to be a child forever the next. You were good at talking to men who were older than you…but…being intimate? No…and Sylvi had…Sylvi had-?

“Is something wrong?”

If you were delusional, you would say he seemed concerned. Still, if you were to tell him that what Sylvi had done was hypocritical and despicable of her, you would go red in the face with tears, and he would only spit on you and say you wouldn’t understand, and-.

“-Your hair.” You said, having been staring at it whilst your mind rushed. “Has…has it always been curly?”

Aemond scowled, not in scorn, but in puzzlement. It must’ve started to dry as he spent time in the house; it must’ve been frizzy and horrible as well. “Yes.”

You forced a smile. “And here I thought only the ladies of the night burned their hair since men favor it straight.”

“Mothers too.” He sighed when he saw the look you gave him. “It curled more by the time I was fourteen. She had the servants straighten it for me ever since; I believe she hates anything about me that is a reminder that she is my mother.”

“Aemond…”

“I don’t need your pity. I’ve been with her since I was born, it is nothing new and I have-.”

You don’t know why you reached forward and combed a strand of his hair between two of your fingers. Maybe it was because you were still tipsy, or maybe it’s because you just wanted to. He flinched upon your touch, and so did you.

“For-forgive me,” you backed farther up your bed. “I-I forgot myself and I-.”

He brought himself forward, taking both of your hands. Without looking at you, he brought both of them into his hair. Almost like it was second nature, you began to gently run your fingers over his scalp. He shut his eye, his hands traveling to drape along your waste, and he bent his head to rest upon your chest.

It was strange. Strange but nice. You were holding him, but just to have the illusion of you also being cared for…not even your grandmother had done something like this for years.

“I like your hair just how it is.” You whispered after a minute. “If it matters at all.”

He merely hummed, his hand travelling under your shirt. Your breath hitched when you felt his finger caress the skin above your wound. Your hands did not still, continuing to comb through his hair softly.

His finger traveled farther up, circling the swell of your breast. You made a noise you hadn’t made before, and you thought you sounded ridiculous. He hummed against your chest, and…

And…

Something between your legs felt like it was beating; like your heart, but it wasn’t that.

“I’m going to touch you there.” He mumbled against the fabric of your shirt. “Alright?”

No, no it wasn’t alright, but it was at the same time.

It wasn’t okay because you’ve only heard stories about this from the girls at the brothel, but it was okay because-because you liked him, and he was-

and you were-

and everything feels warm-

and the way he talked to you-

and the way you-!

“Get off!” You whispered once you heard just the lightest of footsteps outside your door. He listened, backing away quickly to the edge of the bed. An almost silent knock came from your door, and you smiled. “Come in!”

Gigi pushed herself in, holding a tray with two steaming mugs, setting it on the bed. “I’m so sorry, your grace. We do not have tea leaves, so is milk alright?”

Aemond nodded. “It is.”

“How have the both of you been?”

You wore a thin grin. “Fine.”

She nodded, looking in between the two of you. As if she knew what had just taken place, she gave a wry smile and turned to leave. “Well, the rain is dying down now. Let me know if you two need anything else.”

“Thank you, Gigi.” You said without another thought.

She didn’t shut the door when she left. You picked up the mug, took a sip and immediately felt your body heal just a little. Warm milk does numbers on a soul.

“I should take my leave now.” The prince stood up abruptly, dusting himself off.

You tried to stand. “I’ll walk you out.”

The wound at your side burned every inch you moved, and you did a horrible job concealing it. Aemond gently took your shoulders, pushing you back down.

“Rest.” He commanded. “You’re injured, and it’s late.”

“And when have you ever cared?” You teased

“Perhaps just now.” He matched your tone.

“Do you know what I hate?”

“Me? Life itself? Men?”

“Yes, to the last two.” You feel your chest constrict at what you would say next. “I hate that you told Sylvi you would spend time with me because you paid her for…other things previously.”

Aemond tilted his head to the side. “Is that so?”

She nodded. “You…you no longer have to pay for my company. You’ve seen me in turmoil, and I’ve seen you naked.”

He laughed…he laughed in a way you’d never heard him laugh before. “Is that what makes us allies?”

“Friends?” You reworded. “You understand the meaning, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” He scoffed.

“So…are we friends now?”

Friends who touch each other in ways they usually don’t.

A hint of a smile spread across his lips. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles. “Friends.”

You dropped your face, hopefully to avoid him seeing how you blushed. The damage was done though. Regaining yourself, you took a deep breath and looked at him.

“And…I’m aware I won’t be the first person you’ll seek if you’re in distress, but please know I will help if you need it.”

“Do not call yourself inadequate.” He shook his head. “I might have some use for you.”

You scoffed. “How considerate of you.”

“Rest now.” He repeated, turning to leave without a proper goodbye.

You sat up. “Wait!” Aemond did not turn to look at you, but he stopped. “Your eye. When you were walking me home, you were in pain. Does it still hurt?”

He was silent. For a moment, you thought it was to come up with a lie, then you assumed it was to find the words to tell you the truth…you had too much faith in him for either.

“It’s late.” He said your name softly and walked out of your bedroom. You heard the front door open then shut.

And there you were, on your bed, alone with an undrunk mug of milk.

The rain had completely stopped.

#aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #hotd season 2 #game of thrones #aemond x reader

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theforsakenprince · 1 month ago

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Forsaken as a revenge story fascinates me but not because of anything really related to the revenge story itself but rather the context surrounding it. like, "revenge is wrong" stories are everywhere and almost expected at this point, and Forsaken is no different, really. Forsaken says going on this path of revenge will turn you into a monster, but... we as the player don't really care? And why should we! Uldren killed one of our favorite characters! And every expansion before this has us killing something, so it's not really out of the ordinary.

This feeling is especially reinforced by how much Bungie tried making the young wolf a self insert during y1 (which REALLY did not last long). We, the player (if you played d1/y1 anyway) are angry at Uldren for killing off the most popular character at the time. It's PERSONAL now. And sure, the ending does feel like we're kicking someone who's already down (Ghost says it himself: Uldren's already done for), but we got the bad guy! The end, right?

Nope! Our actions have immediate consequences! Ghost is scared for us. We have to watch Petra struggle with the events of Forsaken while trying to lead a city of people stuck in a perpetual 3 week loop. Mara is obviously not happy with us (and we know we have to deal with lightbearer Uldren at some point). We may not feel bad about killing Uldren, but it doesn't feel great either. And unlike most past Destiny expansions, Uldren isn't an obligatory unequivocally evil big bad alien we need to shoot because this is an fps, he's... just some guy we barely knew anything about before now. Sure, he was a dick to us, but watching his descent into madness throughout the campaign is downright uncomfortable. All our past enemies, in comparison, have been rather straightforward: they're trying to kill us? well we gotta kill them first.

Forsaken also marks a MAJOR tonal shift. It literally kills off the comedy relief. Every release after Forsaken has a noticeably more serious tone (and while humor isn't completely absent (Saint, Crow, Fynch, and Nimbus have their moments) Forsaken's story is a particularly dark one, and it seems to carry over the rest of the year as we first start to consider the "line between light and dark"). It was definitely much more noticeable at the time of release, but Cayde's death has an impact not only on the characters but the tone of the story overall (he is the perfect example of characters continuing to haunt the narrative imo) and clues us in as the audience that shit is about to get Real.

and what happens the next year? We find a Pyramid ship.

this post is kinda all over the place but MAN not a day goes by that I don't think about Forsaken and how good it is as a self contained story and as an expansion that sets up a lot of the major players leading up to final shape! it's not really controversial to say that Forsaken is one of destiny's best expansions (story wise at least I'm not touching that power grind with a 10 foot pole) but I feel like a lot of that sentiment comes from the fact that it came out after curse of osiris/warmind which. no hate to either of them but anything that came out after them would look really good in comparison.

anyway uhhh forsaken good uldren did nothing wrong (JOKE I feel like I have to specify this is a joke people have taken this statement from me seriously before)

#destiny 2 #destiny #destiny the game #uldren sov #destiny 2 forsaken #petra venj #welcome tooooo arctic rambles about forsaken and doesn't even say everything they want to about it #(another post is inevitable. sorry)

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aetherrx · 5 months ago

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Kim gitae with reader who ran away maybe?(strangers to lovers basically) Anything you like as long it has smut 🙏😔

Gitae x Reader | That Strange Man

18+ MDNI | ✦ . 　⁺ 　. ✦ . 　⁺ 　. ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Mexico.

Fucking Mexico.

You’d have slit the throat of any person who’d simply indicated that you would run away, to another country, with your tail tucked between your legs. You were a beast; you were the villain. You weren’t the one that ran, the imbecilic human parasites that surrounded you, were the ones that ran.

They ran from you.

But not anymore.

You were a wounded animal, a dethroned tyrant running from death. That black eyed bastard would get his comeuppance, you’d make sure of it. But, for now, you were stuck licking your wounds in the scorching heat of Mexico, dodging the creepy, slimy looks from rogue cartel members.

To think that the black-eyed bastard had been on your level made you fume with unquenched, fiery rage. You weren’t the only injured rat scurrying away; no, no, no, before that fight ended, you made damn sure to damage the fucker beyond repair, just like he’d done to you, and that jagged scar running down your back.

You sighed, running a hand through your unruly strands as the wind fluttered through, smashing its warm touch against your cheeks. Your legs ached; your temples throbbed with an impeding headache.

You simply wanted this day to end already.

Peeking around, you finally noticed your unfamiliar surroundings, now realising why you were receiving so many weird, slimy looks. The streets in this area all looked very similar, weaving and crossing into one-another, as if they all led to the same centre.

You cursed silently, the sudden realisation that you may have just wondered into the nest of one of the most dangerous cartels in Mexico, which was said to have had its main base in this city.

It was just your luck, to run into the most infamous cartel in Mexico, all because you were stuck in your own head.

This is why you take care to survey your surroundings, dipshit, you scolded yourself, letting out a quiet, scattered sigh as your turned to leave. You could feel holes lasering into your back but chose to ignore it. Better to flee now before more attention is wrought upon you.

Your legs swept rapidly across the cracking pavements, determined to reach the shopping centre and the better side of town, as soon as possible. You may be able to fight, but you cannot fight against a gun.

You could certainly try, but more often than not, gun fights ended with a trip to the hospital or a trip down under. You did not want to be going down under anytime soon.

You sighed with relief as the light churned and burst in front of the last alleyway, your form stepping out into the heavenly light, its beams caressing gently at your cheeks.

You turned to the right, your body colliding into a large, solid wall. You frowned, wincing as your still-injured shoulder smashed into the hard material.

A frown furrowed your brows as you noticed the very warm skin, and very real leather jacket on this supposed ‘wall’. Of-fucking-course. You’re so smart, a wall, she said. You scoffed internally, eyes peeking upwards and clashing with dead, tired eyes.

He’s kind of… handsome. And Korean?

“Oh, sorry,” You apologised in Korean, bowing before you turned to leave. A harsh grip wrapped itself around your wrist before you could leave, causing your eyes to narrow with annoyance. Why do I always have to beat fuckers up in every country I go to?

“Korean?” his timbre was low and grumbly, like a quiet tiger creeping through the night, deadly but silent. His tone brushed over you deliciously, sending a shockwave of shivers down your spine. You could feel that jagged scar running up your back tingling, filling with heat and itching at the sides.

Your head tilted slightly, eyes clashing to meet his again, your eyebrows furrowing at the sudden light twinkling in his dark irises. “Yes?” you answered his question, eyes lowering to his still too-tight grip on your wrist. “Can I help you?” you asked robotically, eyes void and face mostly blank, like always. He watched you with something akin to curiosity across his features, his grip loosening only slightly. You still couldn’t ignore the intimidating aura surrounding this mysterious man, the cold, detached look behind his eyes.

He was a bit like you, really, just harsher, darker and more serious, which you assumed came with age. He looked at least five years older than yourself, with tired bags beneath his eyelids. It made him seem more… enigmatic, in a way.

“Be careful down there,” he stated simply, as if words of protection were foreign to his own lips. You nodded, though filled with confusion, tugging your hand from his completely loosened grip with quite a bit of force. He looked down at your free hand, eyebrow raised and a hint of curiosity in his gaze, as he stared you down.

You felt almost shy behind the towering walls surrounding your mind, the single place you locked away all and any type of feeling, hiding and cowering in the dark as you put on an emotionless front.

“Thankyou…?” you frowned, tilting away from the strange, towering male. “I’ll… see you around,” you stated simply, finally taking the initiative to walk away, ignoring the continued warm touch against your back, his eyes a never leaving presence until your form disappeared into the far distance, where his eyes could no longer brush with their detached look.

You hadn’t been able to get that strange man’s presence out of your life for the past two months. You’d sworn you’d felt the heavy impact of his gaze over the first few weeks, your eyes peeking at every corner in attempt to find the strangely alluring man.

During the second month, you’d bumped into him again, though you were sure he’d planned it accordingly. “You again?” you murmured, head tilting upwards to peer into his eyes. He’d looked almost proud, as if nobody somewhat normal had ever looked him in the eye without trembling with fear.

You knew who he was now, having searched up Mexican cartels once you’d reached your shabby apartment on the other side of town. There wasn’t a single full-face shot of the mysterious man, only a single snap of the side of his head, his usual slicked back hair brushing against the sliver of skin shown to the side of the shot.

You’d thought of him as dangerous, but you hadn’t realised he’d been the leader, the drug lord, of one of the most notorious cartels in the entirety of Mexico.

“Me again,” he’d stated, eyes peering into yours, almost as if he’d had invisible hands reaching into your Scalera and into your brain, trying to pry it open and reveal all your secrets to him. However, you were no sissy, and you certainly weren’t a weakling.

Not many could say they’d been up against Gun Park at full strength and injured him. Though, he did injure you beyond repair, too.

You brushed thoughts of that man behind, there was no use dwelling on the death threats that made you scurry away to Mexico in the first place.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” He said as he slung you towards the corner of the alley, just away from the shopping centre.

Away from prying eyes.

You nodded mutely. If he put an end to you, then so be it. You’d lived your life, though not much of it, and it’d been pretty ass so far. You’d been scarred and hurt and broken, but you would not let your mind break. It was one of the only things you had left to yourself, and if you had to get murdered to keep your mind your own, unbroken and untouched, then so be it.

“Yet, you aren’t running,” he mused, tapping a finger against your temple as you looked on emotionlessly. “I don’t care for the horror or fear of death. I have lived, and I have died in many ways already. Kill me or don’t, I don’t have the capacity to care or think of it,” you told him stiffly, eyes narrowed, and tone agitated. He smirked, a teasing, out of this world smirk.

You’d felt like you’d been stabbed into a secret, one you and only you’d be able to hold and nurture and protect.

“Come with me,” he ordered, his hand wrapping around your forearm as he dragged you behind him. “Why? Where are you taking me?” you demanded, feet tapping rapidly as you tried to keep up with his pace.

“There is no one in this world I care for, respect or love. But you,” he let out a cackling laugh, a laugh so beautiful, you’d found it hard to continue breathing. Breathtaking. “You, my angel, have somehow earned a slither of my emotion; emotion I do not usually feel.”

He came to an abrupt halt, turning on you as he crowded you against another stray wall. “But that’s the thing about emotion, angel. I’m the monster of your story, and you are the light that smothers me. I’ll ruin you; I’ll ruin you so beautiful, and you’ll simply adore me for it,” he crooned into your ear, warm lips touching and suckling at your lobe and the large expanse of skin beneath.

I’ll ruin you.

You couldn’t help but let out a stray moan as his hand lowers to squeeze against your clothed breast, cheeks heating at the feel of his lips tipping upwards against your neck, an array of goosebumps lighting up across your skin.

His hand lowered beneath your shirt, shoving up inside your bra as his fingers tweaked your nipple. Bursts of pain and pleasure slithered through your charged veins, the throb between your legs growing more and more.

Your cheeks heated even more as you felt the wetness between your thighs start to gather, his fingers reaching down from your breasts to the waistband of your shorts, fingers dipping beneath your underwear as his index finger dipped into your tight cunt.

“Look at you, so wet for me. After all you know about me, what I’ve done and what I do. Your pussy’s weeping for my fingers, for my cock,” he breathed against your ear, his erection pressing against your side, and you could already tell he was big.

“I’m not going to fuck you today, my angel,” he said as his fingers thrust in and out of your soaping pussy, squelching noises filling and echoing your surroundings, proof of your wetness and absolute need for this psychotic man. He added another finger, stretching your tight channel further, his thumb circling your clit, and you couldn’t help but grind against his hand. “I’m going to fuck you dumb with my fingers, make you shake and tremble with pleasure, before I leave you here as if I was just your ghost,” he murmured, his third finger sliding into your pussy, adding and stretching and exploding your pleasure, reaching you to heights you never thought, with just a simple finger fucking.

For all evil this man was, he knew how to get a girl off really good. You found it harder and harder to reign your moans in, eyes rolling to the back of your head as his fingers thrusted deeper and deeper into your tight channel, pleasure coiling and burning in your stomach.

His hands were so big, his fingers stretched you so wide and strong, you were just so full. The heat across your cheeks darkened as your eyes fully rolled back, spine arching into him as you came all over his fingers, a quiet scream escaping your lips at the ecstasy firing through your blood.

“You come so prettily, too,” he hummed, finger beneath your chin as he tiped your head up, forcing your embarrassed gaze to his. “Next time I want you to scream my name as you come all over me. I’ll see you again soon, my angel,” he whispered, his body disappearing from your dishevelled state in a fraction of a second, a single name carrying across the wind.

Gitae Kim.

Your eyebrows furrow, suspicion arising at his rapid speed.

Is he like Gun Park? And that last name…

It had only been a week since then, a total of almost three months since you’d met the man at all. Gitae Kim was a total enigma, one you knew came from the first generation. You’d not a doubt in your mind, that he’d somehow been involved with James Lee, who was only a couple of years older than yourself.

You hadn’t known what to think of the man. You either thought wary or lusty thoughts, neither deterring you from wanting to seek him out, to just see him. It had been as if he’d planted his very own obsession inside of you, your thoughts consumed with him and only him. He was never one to stray from your thoughts, and you needed to see him again.

At least until you left to go back to Korea. You’d felt like you’d recovered enough from your injury and felt it time you go back home. But, before you went back, you just wanted to gaze upon Gitae Kim one last time.

That was how you found yourself wondering down the dingy, shadowed alleyway under the ghastly gloom of the moon. Peeks of light filtered through the small gaps in the building as your feet patted quietly against the concrete pavement.

Your hood masked your hair and disguised your feminine form from any creepers, your stature looking like that of a mans as you traversed through the multiple alleyways, face set into a determined expression as you stalked forward.

“What do we have here,” a slimy male voice crooned from the side of you, his gaze clicking with the other man opposite you. “A little boy’s gotten lost,” The other males voice snickered, just as you felt shivers track down your spine.

Fuck, I didn’t want to be noticed.

In your hurry to get to Gitae, you’d completely forgone your usual masked presence, feet patting loudly and obviously, which had obviously wrought you unwanted attention.

You really didn’t feel like fighting two massive, fully-grown adult males right now. Though they weren’t as menacing as Gitae, you couldn’t help but think they were strong, and that you weren’t at your best. No, you were probably at your worst, even after mostly recovering. Now that you’d reflected, you’d probably barely recovered at all.

Maybe they’ll take me to Gitae. If not, I’ll have to use what’s left of my recovered energy, to take them out.

“You should know better than to come to this side of the city, boy,” one of the goons snickered, their hand wrenching the back of your neck in a tight grip, before dragging you forwards, deeper into the nest of the Cartel.

What felt like eons, but was likely only minutes, finally passed, and you found yourself bang in the middle of the cartel gang. Men of all sizes surrounded the space in a funny-looking circle, and a single man- Gitae – sat on a metal, rectangular box, at the front of the space.

“Sir, we found this boy lurking on the outskirts of our den,” the goon holding you explain, head bowed in respect, as the other goons grip tightened harshly on your upper arm. You could see Gitae’s eyes narrowing on you menacingly, but you couldn’t find it in you to be scared.

You knew this was what he was really like, he was an infamous cartel drug-lord, for one, and the menacing aura that had always followed him like a shadow should have made that fact even more obvious.

Gitae stops in front of you, his hand tugging down your hood. A flash of recognition flies through his eyes, his lip lifting into a rare smirk at the mutters echoing around the space.

“A little Birdy got lost,” He crooned, before his face fell flat and his expression became one of stone. “However, this little birdy is here for me.” His gaze narrows on his followers. “Get to work,” he barked, before grabbing your arm and stalking towards a single door to the right of the space.

He leads you into what you assume is quarters, leading you deep into the home, then tugging open a door hidden in an enclosed corner. “My angel came to find me,” He murmured, his hand holding your cheek as he towered over you.

“I wanted to see you before I left,” You blurted out, cheeks heating at your lack of brain around this one man. “Left?” He asked, tone stoney, while his eyes dragged you into his storm. “I’m going back to Korea,” you said, not breaking eye contact with the menace.

Gitae smirked, “And you wanted to see me one last time?” Despite yourself, and despite his mocking smile, you couldn’t help but nod at his question.

That was before you found yourself flat against soft satin sheets, a red hue flushed across your cheeks, eyes hazed with lust and lips parted into a tiny pout as Gitaes large cocked rammed in and out of your opening.

“Ngh~ slow down,” you whimpered, the sound of obscene squelching filling the room as Gitae rutted in and out of your wet cunt, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, at the delicious stretch of your pussy around his thick cock.

He smirked, lifting one of your legs to rest on his shoulder as he angled his hips, hitting you deeper and deeper with each thrust, until you could almost feel him at the bottom of your stomach. “We all know you’re a slut for my cock, my angel. Shut up and take me like a good girl.”

You could see the haze of lust blurring his vision as his thrust became quicker and sloppier, your vision blacking out for a second, as his hand wrapped around your throat squeezed with an almost gentle pressure.

His pelvis brushed and slid against your weeping clitoris with every single thrust into your squelching cunt, pleasure soring through your veins as your mouth parted with a partially loud moan. The tightness in your stomach exploded, your pussy clenching down onto Gitae’s cock as you came, nails digging into his shoulders and drawing blood as you rode out your orgasm.

Still sensitive, you were overloaded with aftershocks of pleasure as Gitae carried on ploughing into your tight channel, thrusts becoming harder and harder as he chased his own high. A small, gravely groan escaped his lips as he came, the feel of cold matter entering you causing you to explode around his cock one last time.

His still semi-hard cock left your tight cunt, his lips locking with yours as you battled tongues. A trail of saliva connected you before he broke off and moved down your body, head burrowing to peek at your swollen, pink cunt, still flowing with your juices and his cum.

His wet appendage sprung out, licking and sucking at your tender clit. You moaned out in protest, pussy clenching and eyes rolling back at the overstimulation. “Don’t try and protest, my angel. I can see your needy cunt clenching right in front of my eyes,” He crooned into your cunt, his voice vibrating against your sensitive channel as he slipped his tongue into your cunt, his thumb rubbing your clit in slow circles.

That swirling ball of pleasure grew again in your stomach, tightening and tightening as his tongue thrust in and out of your wet cunt, squelching and obscene sounds becoming louder and louder as you moaned and screamed on is tongue.

Your orgasm rushed through you at the added pressure against your clit, your hands reaching to clutch at Gitae’s raven locks as you came on his tongue. “Delicious.” You watched with flushed cheeks as he loomed over you, the residual of your juices marring his mouth and chin.

He leaned over you, lips licking at your juices left on his mouth before his breath hit your ear. “I think I’ve become particularly addicted to the taste of your pussy, my angel. I’ll be coming with you to Korea.”

You had a feeling he’d already been set on returning to Korea before you came into the picture, he’d just decided to take you with him on his menacing mission of destruction.

You couldn’t say you weren’t looking forward to it.

#lookism #fanfiction #lookism jonggun #park jonggun #lookism gitae #gitae kim #lookism x reader #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #kim gitae x reader #kim gitae x you

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thesharktanksdriver · 6 months ago

Text

The star above wano still shining (platonic)

Sorry for the long wait on another determination. I’ve had uni, my wisdom teeth being pulled and other things going on so life has been pretty hectic. I’m still working on the law and Corazon part but somehow wrote this in like 2 days. Sorry if some people are out of character, I haven’t yet made it to wano so I went off of mainly clips online and the one piece wiki. Also I haven’t written in awhile so I’m probably kinda rusty, so sorry for that lol

U guys get some crumbs of lore for waiting so long And As always everything is platonic.

Guess which character is my favourite based on how long their section is lol

Warning: child death, described gore, spoilers for wano, don’t read if you don’t want to be spoiled for some parts of wano. Read at your own risk

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @peachsuka28 @emptynessinmyworld @badluckinfrench @j-s-l-m @tigerfang-rage @madokamagicaa @rymtea @angstylittleb1tch @badluckinfrench @emmbny @kenkenmaaa @yunho-leeknow @chibiduck

You once remember wano being a place of peace the first time you visited it all those years ago

Roger had went to the country to recruit Oden from Whitebeard and in those days you found yourself enjoying the beautiful island

It was a place you’d considered ever laying low in if the time came

And though it wasn’t a long stay there you had throughly enjoyed the land in which the sprawling greenery and light pink of Sakura created an indescribable beauty

It had been so long since you’d been there

So much so that you hadn’t realized you had woken up there once more

Wano was shrouded with an air of oppression upon the people you once saw flourish

Oden despite his short time on Roger’s ship had taught you alllt about the place he called home

And whatever happened here was certainly something that wouldn’t happen under his eye

So you go off to investigate yourself

Feeling yourself drawn somewhere you can’t quite place your finger on

Black Maria

For a long while you walked aimlessly within wano, sticking out like a sore thumb due to your clothing

While everyone else wears kimono’s or yukata’s your just in full on pirate gear

It isn’t exactly the best thing since it seems travellers here weren’t exactly common

So much so that you decided to try and stick to alleyways and quiet streets during the night

But even then the city was bustling, though it did still give a better opportunity to blend in

And it’s there sneaking through alleyways and criss-crossing from place to place you end up behind a brothel

The beautifully dressed women on break taking a look at you with lidded painted eyes that were quickly filled with worry

Bruises and scrapes covering your legs, unwashed hair with things stuck in it along with the clear clothes of a foreigner within the land where no one could leave of get in

The pretty women quickly drag you in the brothel, making sure to avoid occupied rooms and taking you to a spare one as they got to work on sprucing up your appearance

Even giving you a patterned yukata if your own

The hiding your old clothes away beneath the floorboards as they whisper amongst each other

And it’s then after they quickly finished a large blond woman enters through sliding shoji doors

Raging Anger appearing in her eyes before they land on you

A small child with bruises still on your small form and bandages that covered some of your cuts

Her anger disappeared as does the geisha woman who silently gives you a look “don’t tell her”

It is there you meet the woman Black Maria, the owner of this pleasure house and apart of the Beast pirates

You’ve heard of those pirates before, how people shuttered at just the name itself as if it were a curse

But as Maria gently looks you over, large hands examining your bruises with a gentle touch you can’t help but think you probably got lucky

Especially when seeing the initial anger that then bubbled away

Manicured nails making sure not to cause you more harm as she grazes over wounds

It’s there she asks where your parents were and you answer truthfully, that their long gone and it’s been you on your own

You didn’t think it was possible but her eyes softened more, a turquoise blue reminding you of precious jewels

She contemplates for a minute, then eyes then hardening a bit as she asks you if you’d like to work for her as a delivery/message bringer and you agree

Working under Maria is certainly an…odd position

Though you worked delivery for Sengoku at Marineford working for Maria is much different for you

Especially since the horned woman seems to coddle you

When she’s not entertaining customers or doing her work she often spends her time with you

Helping style your hair with ornate hairpins or picking out patterned kimono’s for you to wear

Fretting over your scraped knee’s as she chastises you in being more careful

Teaching you to play the shamisen and being proud when you pick it up with flying colours

Singing you to sleep on the nights you find yourself restless

She reminds you of a mother, maybe not your own but an extremely dotting one

But despite all this you still see some of her cruelty towards others

Though it’s not directed at you, you’ve sometimes run into her punishing others

Getting a sick glee from hearing screams and bones crack beneath flesh

It’s disturbing…especially when she does completely switches when your around

A distinct contrast from the motherly persona she puts on for you

Kissing your forehead good luck in the morning as you set out to deliver before then killing someone in cold blood just minutes later

In some ways it’s terrifying but by now on the sea you’d seen and met so many people that it’s lost its punch it might’ve when you initially set out

So you go off, delivering her letters and such to others in the beast pirates ranks

A golden hairpin of a spider crawling across a branch of flowers added to your obi to signify your protection and status as her messenger

When you come back to her personal residence she pats your head and then tells you to eat up the meal she’d had prepared specially for you

It’s nice, perhaps even a bit nostalgic for you

And after checking you over she sends you to bed in a renovated room she gave you that’s near her own

She says it’s more convenient that way, for you to be onsite and close for when she needs more deliveries

But she doesn’t tell you about how she checks on you in the night when your small cries while asleep can be quietly heard through the thin walls

Doesn’t say how she personally threatened the other commanders that if they lay a single hand on you she’d deal with them herself

Doesn’t admit how she itches with a sort of possessiveness in knowing you work for her when others begin to gain a curious interest in the small fearless child she now calls her own

She likes the gentle feeling of warmth you give her heart

Likes how she can find herself to be kind and caring with you

Enjoys the fact you value her company over business or pleasure

When you smile at her it’s genuine

And the woman who weaves webs decides that one day a new spider would take her place

Perhaps you’d take that role

But for now your her dutiful little messenger

A cute little treasure she’d take good care of and nurture as if you were her own child

Because perhaps she considers you that

When a mother spider catches a brightly shining firefly in her web, she’s hardly content in letting it go after all

“Which would you like for today?” Black Maria questions as she holds out several folded up kimonos. Each look to be high quality, all with patterns and warm comfortable material to protect from the wano weather.

You look up towards her, tilting your head a bit in confusion. “Are you sure I need so many? I’m just your delivery-“

“Don’t be ridicules dear” she cuts you off, then placing a gentle hand on your head. Normally she’d ruffle it but she had already put in the effort of styling it and didn’t want to ruin her work. “You work for me. And I can’t have my precious little messenger underprepared for the weather. Besides, I have plenty spare kimono that are wasting away not being used.”

“I’ve survived with worse before. One time I was forced out in minus 10 weather while in nothing but shorts and a shirt”. That might’ve not have been the best thing you could’ve said cause her expression shifts to horror. “But it’s fine though!-“

She sighs, then lightly flicking your forehead. “Whoever did that to you better be dead or else.” She holds out the kimono again “no ifs, ands or buts. Now pick”. Under her fierce and loving gaze you choose one of the folded bundles, a dark blue kimono with the pattern of fireflies in a field is the one you decide on

Sasaki

You meet the green haired fishman when delivering a letter to him while he was drinking

It was right before your mandatory lunch break Maria practically forces you to have when hearing that you ran around all day without stopping

So after delivering the letter you decided to stay with the relatively laidback looking who invited you to join due to his curiosity

You find Sasaki to be a relatively odd figure, not only for his relatively lax demeanour but also his burning ambition

He wants to become an All-Star within the beast pirates ranks by defeating one and taking their place

As does his colleague Who’s-Who

To be honest you haven’t really cared to learn the hierarchy of this crew

All you knew is that it seemed like these “All-stars” were the highest on the chain besides their captain Kaido

Speaking of which, Sasaki talks about him quite a bit while sipping his sake

The clear alcoholic liquid being chugged as if it were water

Sasaki holds him in a high regard, but for others on the crew…not so much

Sure, there were a few that had earned his respect for them but in others he seemed to find them too haughty

Luckily for you it seems you’ve gotten on his good side

his easygoing and your calm mix well together, a laid back charm between the two of you despite being very different in other regards

It’s due to this that on your breaks the green haired man seeks you out

At first it’s the occasional asking if you’d like to join him for some food as you start your break

But later devolves into practically kidnapping you to join him and his subordinates to party

Typically at parties adults aren’t too keen on letting you sneak some alcohol but the fishman either doesn’t care or thinks it’s funny until Black Maria and more responsible adults are on his ass about it

Speaking of which, Maria can’t help but be a little exasperated that of all people it had to be Sasaki who was the first to get attached to you

Something he rubs in the face of others later on

And uses as a sort of leverage? Your not really sure how that happened but he’s definitely holding that above Who’s-Who and Ulti as if it were a gift from the gods

But either way you find him to be fun, especially when asking him about his devil fruit or his time as his own pirate crew

Both things he talks about in high regard

While on the sea you’d actually heard about his crew, and though you’d never met them it does pique your interest

Especially since how can someone as prideful as Sasaki go from being a captain of his own crew to being an underling to another?

It’s odd

But something kinda intriguing since something like that happens very rarely

Since typically the captain is killed

But instead Sasaki was able to rise in the ranks

He’s not at the top like he wants but it would be somewhat naive to say he isn’t powerful or lucky in his own regard

His devil fruit also interests you cause….dinosaurs!!!

You’d got to see some firsthand on your couple of times waking up on little garden (and then being quickly eaten by said dinosaurs if Dorry and Brogy weren’t there)

But getting to see one that doesn’t actively try to kill you is super cool

Especially since you get to examine without being stomped like a pancake

Sasaki seems to take pride in how amazed you look, especially when you start spewing out Triceratops facts

Some from first hand experience like “did you know they have the capacity to tear off your head if the wanted too-“ and “their hardened skin allows for defence against other predators!”

To be honest after a long while of using his devil fruit the amazement effect of it had worn off

So having someone fawn over it is kinda nice

Sasaki feels appreciated by you, like he’s being listened to when he goes off on a partially drunken regal of his pirates days

And in a similar fashion Sasaki listens to you

For a unassuming kid you talk as if a library of knowledge was directly in your head

Along with that you seem to throw safety to the wind like the time you almost got into an arm wrestling contest with Ulti before he had to drag you away

Because who in their right mind would do that when she for sure would somehow accidentally kill you

You have guts for sure, something he definitely respects

But also leaves him worried shitless because what’s next? King have a tea party with you or something?!

Him and Who’s-Who made bets about whether that would happen or not and he has his good booze on the line if you somehow make that happen

And he prays that won’t happen for not only the sake of his booze and his own sanity

“Oi kid! Wanna join for some lunch?”

“I have one more letter to deliver-“ before you can finish the horned man picks you up by the scruff of your kimono giving a laugh.

“Eh don’t sweat it. I can send someone to do it for you after. You’ve been on your feet all day, you need a break”

Who’s-Who

Similarly to Sasaki, Who’s-Who is a relatively odd but interestingly determined figure

You had delivered stuff to him a few times but actually get to know him through Sasaki’s forced lunch breaks

He’s stone faced at first

But over time you see the chipping away of his somewhat serious disposition

Especially when people seemingly get on his nerves and his anger flares up

He has…quite the barrage of insults, so much so that the typically loose mouthed Sasaki covers your ears

But to be honest you’d probably heard worse with your years on the sea

Anywho (hah) you listen to a lot of his rants about his backstory

Specifically something to do with CP9? It was something government and marine related

Sounded vaguely familiar but to be honest you typically forget about the specifics of most things and people after a certain amount of time

So you just nod along as he keeps going off

Until he starts getting into stuff about history that’s blatantly wrong

Specifically about fishmen

So you correct him and that ends up in a landslide of rebutting his points with hard facts

And in that verbal exchange despite his biting tone you keep calm and explain what was wrong

And seemingly because you stood your ground he gained a liking for you?

Your not sure how but you guessed he thought you’d be a pushover (it depends on the situation)

But for a kid who’s job was being a messenger you seemingly proved yourself to him in some weird convoluted way

Though that might’ve also been because you answered some of his questions about some myths he had been interested in

The sun god and the star god

Apparently he’d heard about the two while in jail, the stories giving him hope of one day being free and having the power to achieve his goals

Two enigmatic beings that surpassed even you in how old they were

Two shining beacons acting as hope for the hopeless and shackled down

Giving people the power to rebel and achieve their dreams

Even you hadn’t heard too much about the two, just odd myths here and there

But with what you did have seemed to satisfy the pink haired man

But that brought up the question of how you knew those myths

Something you don’t really reveal and just write off as “heard it somewhere”

But at this point Who’s-Who didn’t care enough to question it

Let alone try and get you into trouble when you’ve been one of the only people to actually be able to give him more information

So he’s satisfied

At least for now

Sometimes you run into him on your way to deliver things and he joins you for a bit of the way if he has nothing to do

You slow down a bit to a brisk walk as he leisurely follows suit

Conversation following quickly after on a wide variety of topics

He’ll be damned to admit it but your way too good of a kid to be stuck here

Let alone be kinda working for the beast pirates considering their reputation

But he supposes that every has their reasons

And it doesn’t seem like you’d be able to leave anytime soon considering Maria practically dotes on you like your her own flesh and blood

But he won’t say that aloud

Not when the blond woman would throttle him

And you’d probably look at him all confused

For such a mature kid your still pretty naive and clueless in some departments

I mean come on! Do you not see how the scariest woman on the damn island is basically wrapped around your finger

She almost attacked Sasaki for sneaking you some sake and it was only because of you politely asking her not that she didn’t

He’s definitely partially convinced you have some sort of friendship devil fruit or something

That thought is only becoming more prominent when you somehow befriend Ulti

“So you and Sasaki want to become an “All-Star” right? How does that work?”

“Either Kaido elects you himself or you prove yourself by defeating an All-Star and taking their place”

You nod, then asking “so who do you wanna beat?”

He smiles “doesn’t matter, as long as I become an All-Star is the goal”

Ulti

The cutesy and hot tempered young lady is one you run into by accident since Maria didn’t trust that she wouldn’t blow a fuse somehow if you had to deliver a letter to her

But nether the less you both meet

And seemingly like Black Maria she finds you to be cute

Which means you have less of a chance to be victim to being attacked by her unless you reallly provoked her somehow

But luckily you haven’t! Especially when you can see subtly gestures as to when she gets irritated

She gets volatile pretty quick but it’s just as easy to be able to calm her down when you call her “lady Ulti”

She seems to like the idea of being a polite lady of high society and maturity

So much so that when she’s not angry she tries to fit this image

And she also seems to like cutsy girlish things

Both of which you indulge her in which gets you in her good graces much to everyone’s shock and amazement

To be honest you don’t really get the deal? This might be you just being desensitized to this kinda stuff but she’s honestly not to hard to deal with

Calling her “lady Ulti” or buying her a few cute charms with some of the money Black Maria gives you seems to placate her anger in most instances

Something that others seem to be thankful for

Though she’s a fierce-some pirate with a temper she also enjoys some of the more simple things in life

She likes to have tea parties with you and do mundane things like shopping or having her hair braided

Perhaps due to being the older sister and caretaker to her brother after their father died she hadn’t had much a childhood to experience such things

Not that you mind, you can’t even really remember your childhood before taking to the sea

Your parents faces blurred and distorted, voices lost like whispers in the wind, their warm hugs dissipated into cold nothingness

So you enjoy your time with her, reliving a time of innocent happiness just as she does

She gets a bit over excited at times not realizing her strength like the time she almost crushed your spine in a hug

But she slowly begins to realize how in comparison your much more fragile than her and others around her

Page one definitely helps her with this quite a bit, especially considering she was like this when they were kids and back then she also had to regulate her strength around people (aka him with her death hugs)

Speaking of her brother she actually pretty happy she’s found a friend?

He’s not really sure how it happened but he’s genuinely happy for her, (also cause she doesn’t cling to him as much, she still does occasionally but now your her main target lol)

She acts a lot like how a sister would

Though she’s sometimes bratty she’s still caring and mischievous in a fun way

Often dragging you away to play games or browse through the shops nearby

It’s honestly pretty nice (when she’s not angry)

But with this comes some genuine moments with her

After their dad died Kaido had taken her and Page one in

As the eldest she decided she needed to step up

And while she did do that she felt like she lost time in enjoying her childhood, of spending time with her brother and forming genuine connections

Being in the beast pirates is a constant power struggle

People always trying to climb to the top no matter the cost

She’s lost a portion of herself in establishing stability for both herself and Page one

Now trying to make up for it even if he saw her clingy affection as annoying

Because at heart she does care

She cares a lot about the few who’ve made the effort to see her

And even if she snaps like a twig when things don’t go her way she doesn’t really mean to

It’s just how she reacts and she can’t really hone it back despite her attempts to do so

But you see that when others don’t

And she deeply appreciates it in her own way

So when she barges in and takes you shopping it’s her trying to show how she appreciates the efforts

Or when she picks you up and sits you atop her shoulder so you can see above the crowd and not get lost

Black Maria is certainly in for a surprise when she finds the two of you having a tea party but decidedly joins in

It’s odd seeing Ulti so happy without snapping in the span of a few minutes but Maria is pleasantly impressed

Though she does get a bit annoyed when Ulti then starts hounding her to send more letters so she has more excuses to play Hanafuda with you (you let her win each time)

Everyone seems to pity your eardrums for when she squeals in joy

“Hey lady Ulti, do you wanna get matching Omamori charms?” You say holding up two of the small luck charms, she turns to you eyes widening with delight.

“Kya!! Really!”

“Sure, it’s why I asked”

Yamato

You met Yamato completely by accident not knowing who he was or why he was in the walls

But at this point you don’t question anything as he freezes in place and you just ask “yo…are you alright? Should I go orrrrr?” In which shakes his head

And then you leave

But then a few days later he finds you while on your way back to Black Maria’s

In which he talks to you

In many ways you find Yamato to be aspiring as you feel his determination burn brightly and strong

He’s faced adversity yet he stands tall admits it all

And….well seeing him idolize Oden and even pick up his mannerism is kinda oddly comforting to you

It must have been years (how many exactly you don’t know) since you last saw Oden but it feels like yesterday

You remember talking with him on the Jolly Roger

Remember him regaling proudly of his homeland and of the Whitebeard pirates who welcomed him aboard

Remember his goodbye to the Roger crew and his joyous hug before stepping off the ship into what now feels like a shadow of what used to be his home

And now your faced with someone who acts like him

Oden was a friend who felt like an old one despite how little time he truly spent with you

And as quickly as he came into your life he was gone like many others you’d met, and all the same it stings and burns like acid

You’d never met his family like he promised

Never had that giant feast he promised Shanks, Buggy and you when you’d all visit

Never got to fulfil in fully raising Momonosuke

Never had the chance in fulfilling his life before his spark was snuffed out

But as you talk more with the young prince you see that while he isn’t Oden himself it certainly feels like in some sense your talking a bit to Oden again

Seeing how Yamato seemingly fights against his father

Against all those you’d somehow come to know while technically working for the beast pirates is inspiring

Especially considering how strong they all are

You didn’t need to see them fight to know how powerful even non All-Stars were

I mean, Kaido wouldn’t be named an “emperor” of the sea and was able to conquer a nation if he wasn’t a powerhouse

Yet Yamato keeps fighting

Because Yamato wouldn’t back down…no he couldn’t back down

Just like Oden wouldn’t

You have to sneak out to hang out with the red horned prince but no one really bats an eye

Not when they just assume your being a kid

So at night Yamato and you hang out

And you tell him your experiences with Oden yourself

And much to your surprise he believes you

He believe you wholeheartedly so much so that it makes you confused

Until he pulls out an old book, partially withered by age yet loved and cared for to keep its contents in surviving longer

And in that book in which Oden wrote while on the high sea with the likes of Whitebeard and Roger

He mentioned a young sailor child that was on Roger’s ship, one he nicknamed within the book as “Chīsana hoshi”

Little star

An affectionate nickname the Daimyo would give to you

The mysterious child whom told stories of the stars and of tales untold

One with what felt like great burning stars in their eyes and wormed their way into the hearts of many

One that sang with the sea and knew secrets untold

To be honest you’d be more touched by the sentiment if Oden didn’t tact on to the end a stick figure drawing of you

Cause wow….for someone who was well educated and wrote so eloquently he really just outed you with a stick figure

Speaking of which, you’d gone years without there being proper photos or drawings of you to escape the world governments attention

But it’s a stick figure

A god damn stick figure

You can’t tell if your upset or kinda impressed

Either way it’s safe to say that Yamato hounds you with questions

But you can’t say you don’t enjoy it as it refreshes your memory a bit

Something you never mind especially when you find yourself remembering details your quickly forgetting over the years

And Yamato seems to notice this as you go blank for a few seconds trying to remember

The slow look of horror as you find yourself not being able to recall some moments

Some things completely lost to the static of your mind and time

And the ecstatic enthusiasm faded from Yamato seeing how broken down the more you try to recall

And realizing you can’t

So he instead shifts the topic

Talking about his yearning for freedom

Anything to take your mind off remembering

And it doesn’t work until he mentions a catalyst to this

Ace

“Ace…as in Portgas Ace?” You question warily watching as Yamato’s expression lights up. He practically springs up, taking out a small piece of paper you recognize as a vivre card

“You know him!” He exclaims excitedly.

“Yeah i helped raise him” you say pulling out the small sun charm as Yamato’s eyes widen in surprise.

“WHAT?!?”

King

Once more you meet him via deliveries but Maria gives you a fair warning about him

Announce your presence and do not go in without his permission lest you end up as ash pile on the ground

Fun

Though probably not one of the worst ways to die

You’d know that personally

But anyways you end up where his office should be

Never going this far into the fortress before now

To be honest the layout was a bit confusing but you made your way after asking a few passerby’s for directions

Them then giving you pitied stares as you go on your way

This guy can’t be that bad right?

And then arrive at the office announcing yourself with mail for him from Miss Black Maria

Keeping the honourifics just in case

For a moment there’s silence and then you hear movement

And the squeaking of something?

Why was there squeaking? Was he in leather pants or something-

And then the shoji doors open

And wow…..you didn’t expect that

Is he in…did you interrupt him or something???!??!

Your staring at this leather wearing head to toe dude with spikes and shit and- did he have a live flame in his back??

Yeah…this is weird even for you and that’s saying something

You hand him the letter and quickly scurry off

Not noticing the flame above him shining a bit brighter than usual

But he does

That’s Odd? Is what he notes to himself

When you deliver to him again it’s relatively the same routine as last time

Though you notice he pays closer attention

Watches your uncomfortable expression as you wait for him to take the letter and let you leave already

And when he does you scurry off again

For some reason though it happens again

His plume burning brighter than it usually would, an almost golden yellow colour rather than the typically orange and red he was used to

That hadn’t happened before

And now looking at it again did the fire begins to change shape?

But that….no he muses to himself that can’t be

It sounds vaguely familiar to something he once heard before the testing and before he lost his homeland

A legend whispered as comfort from a mother he can’t remember in his sleep

Something about a star and its burning flames

But king shakes his head

He’s suspicious but he doesn’t have much to go off now especially since the legends of his people are mostly lost

Besides not even he can remember the myths of his home

Barely old enough to even walk before being stripped of it and shipped off by the world government for testing

He wouldn’t be able remember much let alone remember it actively

Let alone know about a god they used to worship when barely anything is known of them compared to that of Joyboy

Plus your just some kid Maria took pity on, one that a few of the others seemed to have also taken a liking to

Nothing more and nothing less

But something deep in him told him the opposite

Like a small lick of a flame from a candle in the dark

A quiet glow in the sea of shadows

Faint and minuscule but there

Like a single star in the midnight sky, there shining but small and alone

…or at least that’s what this emotional constipated bird man says at first

Because you had apparently survived your delivery to King without being turned to ash has led to other messages being sent through Maria to you to him

Maria was enraged at first but you somehow talked her into it along with the fact that she gets more profit by charging for this service

Soo…. You end up meeting the learning wearing giant of a man

And somehow make conversation with him

To be honest not even he’s sure how it happened

It just did

Cause he asked about how your parents felt about this and it went into a long discussion with you

Specifically about how

A) their dead

B) you don’t remember them

And C) it’s been so long on your own you didn’t even remember where your home was

All of which he understands more than anyone else

To be honest that small question opened a floodgate in him he didn’t expect nor want

But either way it was opened and he couldn’t close it

Because every time he looks at you now he sees himself

Eyes that have seen too much for their age

Eyes that used to be wide and full of wonder reduced to that of tired ones

But unlike him at that age you don’t have the resenting anger he did

To be fair he perhaps had more to be angry about yet it also leaves him confused

How did you turn out the way you did despite it all?

A child who ended up in one of the worse environments possible yet thrives

A child who befriended or got on the good sides of notorious criminals and killers

A child despite seemingly loosing everything still keeping the spark to still find happiness

He sees in which you enjoy the rain despite the cold chill it leaves and the threat of sickness

Watches as you feed your packed bento from Maria’s cooks to a murder of crows even when your stomach grumbles

Observes while you keep strumming a guitar or keep walking even when your feet or fingers bleed

In a lot of ways your like him yet also the complete opposite

And it leaves him confused

And makes him watch

And-

“You don’t have to watch from the shadows you know?” You say not looking up from feeding your crow as he perches on your outstretched finger. You sit on the edge of the railing of a balcony, dangerously close to falling with a simple breeze “I don’t mind the company”

“You noticed me?” The lunarian man mumbles walking out from the doorway and stands by the rail as you continue to feed the bird. He watches the small winged creature, it caws in curiosity at his arrival and tilts its head curiously at the sight of his similar wings.

“You’re not too hard to notice to be fair….but it was your flame that sounded me off. It’s subtle but it’s there” you turn to look at him, petting the feathered little friend. “You notice that kinda thing after a while of being on your own. Even the smallest shift in the wind can alert your mind, giving the hope that someone else was there…but I get the feeling you know that already”

“I do”

A smile appears across your face. “Great minds think alike” your tone is somewhat joyous yet he hears a somewhat sad edge “don’t they Reggie?”

“Reggie? Is that the bird?”

“Yep, raised him and the flock myself!”

“You…raised them all?” Red eyes look out to nearby tree’s, at least 40 beady eyes stare out at him.

“Found them half dead after some villagers tried to kill them. Bad luck or whatever, but sounds like whack superstitions to me” you hold out Reggie to him (leaving out that these were the descendants of those same birds) “wanna hold him?”

King reluctantly takes the bird, the small gentle creature hopping onto his finger. It reacts….positively to him? Much to his surprise. King goes silent for a few moments, watching the midnight feathered bird then rubs its head against him. “I’m confused about you”

“Oh?”

“How are you the way are despite everything?” It’s a broad question “aren’t you angry at the world?”

You give a laugh “of course I’m angry. It took a long time to realize I was, so much had happened to me” you go a bit quiet at the last part but suddenly perk up again as you add “but I’ve met so many good people, seen so many beautiful things. And maybe…just maybe that makes me more content than it does angry. Don’t get me wrong, I still get upset but I have people there for me, some kinda healthy ways to deal with it I guess”

Reggie nudges king as the All-Star goes a bit quiet watching as you then stand on the balcony railing. He quirks an eyebrow beneath his mask, what are you doing-

“Wanna see something cool?” Before he can answer you raise out your arms leaning back dangerously, things practically go in slow motion for him as he races to grab you before you can do your trick

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!?, do you have a death wish or something?!?”

“death isn’t that bad? There are worse things than death, believe me. But I was gonna-“ dear gods if he didn’t have white hair already then it would be after that

After that king for some reason keeps thinking about that moment

More specifically your mindset of death

And what the fuck have been through?

But he’s not wondering that in concern of course (definitely not)

More-so curiosity and how it could benefit Kaido (of course)

So he keeps thinking about it

And you

And ends up worrying that you’ll do something stupid again so he goes to find you

And make sure you didn’t do something stupid again that killed you

And wondering if you know how many near misses with death you have on a daily basis

So he goes back to watching silently

And…then joining you when you point out you know he’s there

And it’s not his fault that you seem to ease up to his company

And that you aren’t as annoying as his colleagues (when your not doing near death stupid shit)

And-

Oh fuuuuuuuuuuuuck

He quite literally goes through the 5 stages of grief

First is denial, of course he didn’t care for you

You were just some kid Maria employed and it was just more convenient to make sure you stayed alive- oi why the fuck is queen trying to drag you on stage for his stupid concert

Second is anger, and he’s unsure if he’s angry at you, himself or the situation because honestly how could he possibly somehow get attached to a kid of all things?! Let alone a weird one that seemingly relates to….him and loosing a home he doesn’t remember

Third is bargaining, no! He’s in control here! He’s can just stop talking with you and stop worrying….wait didn’t you just say you were gonna go out in the beast infested forest

Fourth is depression, because oh god he’s attached. The literal only other person he’s attached to is Kaido for obvious reasons. He didn’t think he needed other attachments to others but now he cares and god does it suck when you a god damn extrovert who’s also a magnet for trouble

And finally is acceptance, because he’s attached now god damn it and it’s simultaneous yours and (mostly) his problem

To be honest you don’t really mind at this point

Coming to enjoy his more quiet company after getting over his…odd attire (something which you now poke at him for)

Plus his wings and fire was cool

Oh! And his rad devil fruit too!!!

Dinosaurs were cool in general so it’s definitely an A+ in your books

Not gonna lie the dichotomy of chill sweet kid that everyone has a soft spot for and literally the scariest dude out there is one you find hilarious

Especially after you walked past a confused Sasaki who got a “yo” from you and a death glare from king

It definitely causes heads to turn while king doesn’t care you just find it funny as hell

You find him to be like…a scary big brother

Sure, he rolls his eyes sometimes at your jokes but you know he cares in his own ways when he stopes you from falling down another flight of stairs Cora-style

He seems to express this by just being around you, listening and protecting you

It’s nice

And also gives you the warning that he’s more attentive than most others

Honestly he seems to have a sixth sense for when you try and hide yet another scrape or cut

Like you could have the smallest splatter of mud on your kimono and he’s already figured out you fell earlier

and then calling you an idiot before dragging you to the nearest doctor employed by his crew

It’s honestly impressive and a bit worrying

So you definitely are careful about some of the things you say

But you still tell him stories

Regal your woes of adventures but frame them as being on Wano

And he listens to them all the same

Soaking up your words

One day you give to him a charm fashioned of moonstones, a small piece of gold you carved into a small star,and spare feathers of your crows whom had come to immediately love him (especially perching on his shoulders for warmth)

And in return he give you one of his feathers, one freshly plucked from his wing that you later turn into an earring

What you don’t know is that of the little things he’s remembered of his home is that the gift you gave him was something akin to a lunarian’s gift towards a close friend

He knows at this point with his flame still turning a bright gold and changing shape it can’t be coincidence

But for now he leaves it be

That can be answered later

Especially when for once King feels like Alber again

A lone boy who lost his home who yearned to find someone like him

And though he didn’t find another Lunarian he found someone else instead

But that was fine for him

“This may be a weird question, but do you ever wish you could fly high enough to touch the stars?” You asked one night looking up towards a brightly shining night sky.

Alber looks up for a moment wings involuntarily flexing at the thought of it “it’s all I ever wanted”. It had been a dream of his ever since he had been locked away and prodded at, to fly so high to the stars that would comfort him with their warmth compared to his barely flickering flame. To let a god whose name he can’t remember hear his prayers.

You both share this silent moment both realizing something about the other

For you it’s how his flame shines a light gold, dancing as they formed a familiar four pointed star you’d yet to forget

While for him it’s the fact that for a moment he sees in the depths of yours eyes the brightest star in the sky that used to reside over his home

Queen

Once more you get a warning from Black Maria about him and you think it can’t possibly be more weird than king

You walk in on this dude having a full on concert whilst the crowd of beast pirates roar in cheers for him

Somehow you begin to believe that maybe Kaido hires the most insane weirdo’s out there

Like Roger literally sometimes found random people on the street and asked them to join

But this, this is a new level of finding people

He also gives you kinda off vibes

So you stay clear, handing the note to one of his men and asking forgot it to be delivered when his performance was done

Dodged a bullet there

Though you would admit his song was kinda catchy

…separate the art from the artist? Nah, he probably did some war crimes or worse

Next time your not so lucky though

Catching him just before his concert as apparently one of the lead guitarist flunked out due to being too hungover

Queen, not being to keen to really talk to anyone because this would fuck up his concert and he was very very fucking upset over that

Like borderline really dramatically upset about it

I mean, you guess you can’t blame him but still

He was taking it a bit far by throwing someone against the wall though

You’d rather not start a civil war if Black Maria heard he accidentally squished you like a stress toy so you step up instead

Taking the lone guitar held up by a relatively scared pirate and take a Quick Look at the sheet to memorize it after a minute or two

Looks like your deliveries would be on a bit of a pause until this was done

You just thank whatever gods there are that Maria is a forgiving boss (to you at least) and that over your many years alone on the barren sea you picked up just about every instrument you could and mastered them (partially to pass time and keep sane)

Though this was also partially due to Brook and the Rumbar pirates

Turning to the still scared shitless assistant yelling at him to tell you what you need to play

Which seemingly gets the attention of the large blond who was now looking down at your curiously

Picking you up by the scruff (why did everyone do that and why was everyone so damn tall here???) to get a proper look at you

Inquisitively trying to figure out just exactly who you were before seeing the hairpin Maria gave you

But then that brings up new questions

Ones he’s about to ask before you tell him that you’d fill in for the first half of the show as long as he’d get someone for the second half and take the mail you have for him

He quirks a brow asking if your any good

And just say that your rusty but good enough to get the job done

With that he puts you down, somewhat relived that at least you’d be somewhat competent

And with that the crowd keeps cheering waiting for him to come on stage

You tie up the sleeves of your kimono for more movement and ready your hand movements

It’s been awhile since you played guitar or even a bass but it would have to do

You would always prefer you ukulele anyways but you were decent with other instruments

So with that you enter the stage via a staircase up and through a side door

Just before queen is literally launched on stage

And then you begin as the crowd goes wild

Typically when you’d play you were by yourself so you could never really gauge how good you were

Like sure, you could sometimes see your progress but in other times it all sounded and played the same

In a sense it was lonely but filling at the same time

You were always a solo, yet it filled the sound of the quiet waves and relative silence you’d normally experience

A silence that sometimes became chilling as you laid there

Days to weeks on end

With no one

With nothing but memories

With nothing but your mind to fill it

It’s why you had found yourself taking to so many hobbies

If only to fill time and oblivion

You’d hands move on their own as you pick up on what was slowly lost to you

Becoming more complicated and impressive as you find yourself having fun with it

You even pull off a few tricks if only to make the show better

Might as well show off a little when you have people to show off too

Queen keeps singing as do the chorus of fans

Eh screw it

Lifting the guitar behind your head is more a challenge due to its weight rather than you playing it

You’d perfected the party trick after many many many attempts and practice

And after a moment of getting used to it again the muscle memory kicked in

The crowd goes wild and your not sure if it’s from Queen or your performance

Probably Queen

You close your eyes in concentration

It was easier that way when getting into the groove of it for you

Closing your eyes and concentrating

Just letting yourself play as the world around you faded out into a darkness that you’ve familiarized yourself with

Keep going even if your sweating buckets

Keep playing even if your things go numb and bleed

You dealt with worse

There was that time your hand was chopped off and you were left to die

To bleed out

You know the feeling Almost intimately

The pain

The drowsiness

The want for sleep

And then finish

Your hand strums down and the final cord rings out

You open your eyes and ears to the crowd silent for a moment

And staring at you

As does Queen and the others on the stage

Wow were you that bad-

Deafening cheers then ring out and you stand there looking around confused for a moment

Then spotting the new guitarist frozen and almost paper white, he must’ve been horrified at your performance

Hand him the guitar you pat his back

Giving him a small smile and a “break a leg out there” before rummaging through your pockets to hand Queen the letter

You look to the still cheering crowd and their hands already raised to catch you

Giving a peace sign to performers on stage and then you dive into the crowd

Letting them throw you into the air before catching you again multiple times, then eventually get you to the door

Not long later Queen tries to get you to sign a “music deal”?

Your not sure what that is but King quickly intercepted by kicking the door down and burning said paper

He’s still trying to get you to preform again

“If you think that was good, you should see my ukulele game. It’s my favourite” you say picking up the same guitar you preformed with last time, distantly in the crowd you see Sasaki, Who’s-Who and Ulti who seemingly dragged along Page One.

“Kid, I don’t think that will make you much money” Queen responds as he readies himself

“It’s not about money, it’s for fun. Besides, I��m not that good at guitar anyways”

“Say that to the crowd”

Kaido

While staying in wano and traversing the place of the beast pirates home you’ve noticed an odd pulling sensation

You noticed it when you first came to wano, but as you got closer to the layer of beasts it got stronger

Pulling and directing you deeper into the almost literal lions den

You’d yet to find out what it was but you’d sometimes come closer to it

As if it moved within this place

But today you’d have the opportunity to perhaps find it, apparently Maria wanted to drag you along to a meeting issued by Kaido himself

Why? Well you weren’t all that sure but it was something along the lines of Kaido’s curiosity and her deciding that it was best for you to get more Involved

Whatever that meant

You had the feeling she was wanting you to officially join

Something of which that others seemed to agree on

Normally when this would happen you’d have somehow died or run away but…your not sure what’s holding you back this time

Maybe it’s that mysterious pull

That’s what you chalk it up to yet you know there are other reasons

Maria for sure is one

King is another

Both for some reason are people you can’t quite want to say goodbye to

But you know it will come eventually

So you push the thoughts away for later

Maria eagerly dresses you up today, doing your hair with the upmost precision

Gently directing your head while she adds she light touches of makeup

She looks proudly at her work (or is it you?) before explaining what the meeting was about…pirates politics or something

You didn’t really get it but just nodded along as she giggled

Booping your nose and saying all you had to do was just be there

Which you were more than fine with

So you go with her

Deeper into Kaido’s territory

That odd pull getting greater and at the same time somehow weaker

Like a frequency on a radio

You hadn’t even noticed it but your now at the door to the meeting room

King crouched down to be closer to your eye level asking if your ok

You haven’t even noticed how much of a daze you were in

You nod, just saying your alright

He accepts it but clearly still has a bit of worry

And in you enter

Everyone but Kaido inside

Page one being Ashley’s with hugs by Ulti

Sasaki and Who’s-who glaring daggers as Queen and then King

Maria has you sit down beside her, cooing over how adorable you apparently look

Ulti then joining in

Other in the room giving you pitied stares

But that’s before shoji doors slide open

And everyone straightens in their seats

For a moment there is silence

And then

You hear your name

Looking up you catch eyes with the somewhat elusive Kaido but for a man who’s said to be bloodthirsty and stoic his face is molded into that of guilt?

Guilt, surprise and perhaps a tinge of sadness

Everyone’s eyes are on you now but all you can focus on is Kaido’s

Pools of gold tinged with recognition

He knows you

Or rather knew you

You try to think back

He knows you, you must’ve met him before but…you don’t remember

you didn’t remember him…..

You don’t remember

You don’t remembeṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don’t remembė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don’t rememb̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don’t remem̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don’t reme̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don’t rem̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don’t re̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don’t ̸̮̓́̎̊̉̕͘͠r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don’t̸̺̪͈͔̮̫̉͊͆̓́̔̎͘͝ ̸̮̓́̎̊̉̕͘͠r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don ̴̛̺̋́͌̌̓̍̃̇̂t̸̺̪͈͔̮̫̉͊͆̓́̔̎͘͝ r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don̷̡̰̰̳̳̥̲͎̅̒’̴̛̺̋́͌̌̓̍̃̇̂t̸̺̪͈͔̮̫̉͊͆̓́̔̎͘͝ ̸̮̓́̎̊̉̕͘͠r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You dơ̶̗̱̅̑̒̅͂n̷̡̰̰̳̳̥̲͎̅̒’̴̛̺̋́͌̌̓̍̃̇̂t̸̺̪͈͔̮̫̉͊͆̓́̔̎͘͝ ̸̮̓́̎̊̉̕͘͠r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You d̵̯̰̈́̐̈ͅơ̶̗̱̅��̒̅͂n̷̡̰̰̳̳̥̲͎̅̒’̴̛̺̋́͌̌̓̍̃̇̂t̸̺̪͈͔̮̫̉͊͆̓́̔̎͘͝ ̸̮̓́̎̊̉̕͘͠r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

Yoų̶̛͚͈̫̯̻̩͙̍̾͠ ̷͍͇̮̙̼͙̤̜͊́͗̓͠d̵̯̰̈́̐̈ͅơ̶̗̱̅̑̒̅͂n̷̡̰̰̳̳̥̲͎̅̒’̴̛̺̋́͌̌̓̍̃̇̂t̸̺̪͈͔̮̫̉͊͆̓́̔̎͘͝ ̸̮̓́̎̊̉̕͘͠r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

Yö̶̹͕̩͓͉̤̲̟̟́̾͜ų̶̛͚͈̫̯̻̩͙̍̾͠ ̷͍͇̮̙̼͙̤̜͊́͗̓͠d̵̯̰̈́̐̈ͅơ̶̗̱̅̑̒̅͂n̷̡̰̰̳̳̥̲͎̅̒’̴̛̺̋́͌̌̓̍̃̇̂t̸̺̪͈͔̮̫̉͊͆̓́̔̎͘͝ ̸̮̓́̎̊̉̕͘͠r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

Y̸̢̰̼̟̱͉̏̇͊͠ö̶̹͕̩͓͉̤̲̟̟́̾͜ų̶̛͚͈̫̯̻̩͙̍̾͠ ̷͍͇̮̙̼͙̤̜͊́͗̓͠d̵̯̰̈́̐̈ͅơ̶̗̱̅̑̒̅͂n̷̡̰̰̳̳̥̲͎̅̒’̴̛̺̋́͌̌̓̍̃̇̂t̸̺̪͈͔̮̫̉͊͆̓́̔̎͘͝ ̸̮̓́̎̊̉̕͘͠r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

Your forgetting more and more

You know some things have been a bit foggy but you didn’t think you’ve forgotten someone again

How many times this has happened you’re not sure, is this the first? Or one of many?

You didn’t want to forget

But you had already forgotten your parents

Your home that now resembles an empty house within your mind

The distinct smell of something wafting in the air that’s familiar and sweet and warm and forgotten to your taste buds

Their voices muffled like hearing them rooms away, hearing but never distinguishing just what their saying

Your neighbour’s like blots of colour through the window as they tend a garden

Your old friends…..But did you have any in the first place?

You don’t know

You don’t know the answer to any of those questions anymore

But with the look in his eyes he knows you

But you don’t know him

And some sort of fear wraps around your heart

Squeezing it

Sweat running down your shaking form

Like a fawn in the jaws of a bear

Your head pounds with unease

You don’t know what to do

What are you supposed to say? Sorry I can’t remember you cause I’ve lived so long that I’ve began to forget stuff?!?

What do you do?!?

His eyes says he wants answers but even if you give him one you see the outcome

You see a possessiveness

Like a dragon and a horde

You’ll be stuck here like wano’s resident with the only difference in your case being that your given a special status

Like a prized pet

You run

Maybe it’s the cowards way out but this was coming either way

No matter how hard it always is

You knew this wasn’t forever and now your forced to do this

You have to die yet once more

Running through the halls with Kaido and many of his commanders on your tail isn’t a fun experience

But your small

And quick

And have ran for your life too many times to know your advantages here

Ducking and slide across wooden floors

You manage to loose them all after a small bit of running

Them splitting up to find you quicker

It’s too bad it ended up like this

Too bad you couldn’t leave on good terms

Or find that pull

But now comes the end

It’s ironic that it’s the balcony you sat on with king that one day

One that you were gonna jump off of regardless but now it’s not a trick where your crows would’ve caught you

And it’s even more iconic now that it’s king that notices you stand and then fall from that edge

But like before he catches you

Hand grabbing yours in an iron grip

His flame sparking up intensely

Your not sure what he’s feeling or what he’s saying

All you can focus on is static

And saying a small “I’m sorry” before slashing his hand with Maria’s hairpin

It cuts at the leather, for a moment you feel his human skin before you slip

Let go

And fall

His flame sparks up once more coming to the shape of that familiar four pointed star you’d see in moments once more

Gold light engulfing your vision

There’s a crack and then pain

And laying on the cold hard ground as blood pools

Reaching a bloody hand up you hold a small spark

Warm and familiar as you feel Maria pick you up in her own

It’s odd but she had been the closest thing you could compare to a mother

You wish you could’ve told her that but the spark holds your attention

Cradled in your palm

You bring it close to your chest in which it collides with

Sparks shoot out at the collision

Before a calm washes over you as cracks begin to form and you break away

“Oden?”

#platonic #determination!#one piece #one piece x reader #beast pirates x reader #beast pirates #Black Maria x reader #king the wildfire x reader #sasaki x reader #who’s-who x reader #Ulti x reader #Yamato x reader #kaido x reader

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hpgal · 2 months ago

Text

DC x DP : Those Glowing Green Eyes

CW: Blood, Gunshot Wounds, Violence

TLDR: Danny is on the run from the GIW and ends up in Gotham heavily injured where he gets found by a gun wielding vigilante.

Word Count: 2313

Everything hurts.

But when did it not?

But this time it wasn’t just injury number 67942 causing these aches and pains, though it did contribute to it. The mental anguish of being ran out of my own home and turned away by those I loved. Because I was a ghost. That pain was worse than the wound in my side.

Now the GIW is chasing me across the country and my last scuffle with them left me hurt worse than ever. They’ve been pushing hard this time around, new toys, more numbers. It was ridiculous. Seeing my own family there made me hesitate when they jumped me too. I didn’t react, just stared in horror as my own mother aimed a gun at me and my own father cheered her on.

Despite it all, I am still convinced there is hope. That there was. But when she pulled that trigger, all hope was gone.

Now, that leads me to the present. Somehow I escaped and now was walking around with a gunshot wound in my side, a bum wrist and I think a head wound in an unknown city. Thank The Ancients for the luck I had with a portal to The Ghost Zone being nearby. I fell through it but had to immediately find another door to the mortal realm when I saw Vlad nearby, who has also been hunting me since this began.

So here I am, in a dark, dank city. The ectoplasm here is toxic as hell and tastes like multiple smokers' houses smashed together and death. Night was falling and it got cold here fast. That could just be my core or it could be that I am slowly bleeding out. That was unclear at the moment.

Either way, I walked the street looking for shelter, mostly ignored by others or simply stared at. Honestly, I did not mind, I didn’t want the attention. Even with the toxic ectoplasm here I could heal up quickly and bounce back to the Ghost Zone to expel the toxicity of it with the help of the feeder ghosts and be good as new. It was abundant here, not nearly as much as Amity Park but it was a close second. That little fact told me this city reeked of death which meant it was probably also dangerous.

Maybe once this whole my parents and the government trying to murder me passes, I could come back here and purge the toxic ectoplasm as Ghost King. Because that is the only thing left for me to do, become Ghost King since my human life seems to be over. I have no clue what there is left for me to do with everyone I loved and the U.S Government wanting me dead

Too bad I can’t fully exercise that power of King until I come of age next year. I could’ve resolved this and just hid in the Ghost Zone for the rest of my undead life. Vlad wouldn’t be able to touch me then. Curse my stupid half alive and half dead existence, no other ghost would’ve had to wait but the council likes to be a pain in my ass. Probably in spite of Clockwork in all honesty, I half joke to myself.

My mind reels as I think about home, my friends, even Vlad. All of them had turned overnight. Even Jazz, though she showed hesitancy at every turn. Their eyes seemed to have a tinge of red when I saw them attack me for the first time, reminding me of Freakshow and his mind control abilities. That was the only thing I could justify holding out hope. But I didn’t see that in my moms eyes this time when she shot me.

Even Vlad switched from the whole crazed rich fruit-loop routine of trying to make me his son to attempts on my life. By the Ancients, if he were there this last attack and not in the Ghost Zone, I would’ve been dead. I had no doubts about it. It was pure luck that he didn't notice me in the zone.

I grimace as I continue walking, holding my side, warm blood seeping through my white shirt and the bandages I put on it already. My vision and mind feel foggy as I turn a corner, instantly clearing for a moment when my ghost sense activates, sending a shiver down my spine, hair standing on the back of my neck.

Now?

Really?

I nearly groan both in pain and frustration at this change. I look around pissed off only to find a guy in a red helmet across the street. My entire being on edge as I see him. He didn’t look like a ghost but he gave the impression of having an association with ghosts. He had higher ectoplasm in his body than normal. Even more so than most Amity Park citizens. For a second I thought I saw the flicker of a core but just as quickly as I saw it, it goes away.

Could he possibly be possessed?

The gears turn in my head as everything screams at me that he is bad news regardless. The moment this masked man steps towards me, I muster all the energy I can and start to run, my decision being made. There was no way I could fight in this condition. Every inch of my body, my muscles scream at me for this. My side burns and my vision is blurry at best.

I risk a glance back to see him following and pick up speed. Grateful for my inhuman abilities still being of use despite my injured state. It’d be easy to go ghost or phase through a wall on a normal day but this was not normal, even for me. There are so many ways I could lose this guy but no, I keep running, oblivious to anything except the urge to escape this new, unknown threat.

Him following me all but confirms my suspicions that he is bad news. I mean I saw those guns on his side. They could be loaded with anti-ghost bullets. I’ve been shot once today, I do not plan on doing that again. Ever. He has to be a hired gun by the GIW is the only explanation to this.

At some point in the chase, I look back to see he is managing to keep up with me, which in hindsight made so much sense with my injuries. I turn right only to find this was the wrong choice. Because of course that would be my luck today. I screech to a halt, nearly crashing to meet the dead end head on, a brick wall separating me from escaping. I lean against the wall in frustration before turning to see if he was in the alley yet.

I could just phase- ”Demon brat what have I told you about stepping in my turf?” Damnit.

I am so tired. I am trapped. I am injured. This day just freaking sucks.

I glare at him with as much intensity I can muster. If only I could use my powers, scare him away. Now that he was closer it was clear he was a human who experienced death. Not a ghost. Not a halfa like him, just a human. But if he did that then the GIW would be sure to find me again in no time. And the stranger called me a demon brat. That has to be some sort of slur to ghosts, although I am not familiar with slurs for ghosts. Is that even a thing?

I shake the thought away and focus on him. I look him up and down, taking in his appearance and movements, ready to fight back.

Despite the mask covering his face, I could feel this stranger looking at him up and down despite it being dark. Maybe his mask had some sort of night vision built into it. He was assessing and judging him. And I was doing the same to him between the glares, my superhuman night vision letting me miss nothing in this dark space.

He looked like what I imagined a human vigilante would look like. Except 10 times scarier like he wouldn’t care if he helped civilians or not. Maybe this guy was just here for an adrenaline rush or some other bullshit reason a normal human would act like this. The red mask was intimidating, he was well built and tense, ready to pounce on him like I was on him. Except he wasn’t fighting death itself right now so he for sure would win without me using powers. Maybe he is a hired gun by the GIW with how he is sizing me up.

The vigilante takes a step towards me, “Woah, woah, you're bleeding.” he seems to hesitate but I glare back up to him like a feral animal. This had to be a trick right? The care and concern in his voice wasn’t real.

I backed up against the cool brick wall behind me, sinking into a low stance, ready to jump and fight back. I let the wall support me where it could and where it couldn't, I sucked it up with gritted teeth. I had faced worse before. If I died here I’d probably become a full ghost anyways so I could haunt his ass for the rest of his life, exercising the full power of Ghost King just to be petty for the inconvenience. Serves him right for the scary vigilante routine. Too bad for him, I am scarier and I would not fall for cheap tricks.

I try to make myself as intimidating as possible. Hell, the blood seeping from my head and how ready I was to fight probably made me look like a feral, wounded, animal right now. I mean that is what everyone else thought I was anyways, right? I bare my teeth at him, my canines most definitely unnaturally pointed.

“Seriously, kid? Two can play this game.” The man takes a step closer, I watch, calculating.

Then his eyes glowed green.

At least that had to be what happened under the mask. I felt the surge of ectoplasm being used when it happened and I snarl at him in response. This would be a harder fight than I thought. How did I miss the ectoplasm tainting him, enhancing him this way? The fact he could willingly do it meant he was trained and well versed in his abilities.

Well shit.

He seems taken aback at my response, not expecting me to not be frightened. Well tough luck buddy. “I can do that too.” I say with venom dripping off my tongue between gritted teeth, not willing to let this guy get the best of me.

I look up at what I presume are his eyes based on his mask and allow my own eyes to flare neon green, brighter than his. A show of power and dominance that some ghosts use to avoid a fight. Maybe I could avoid this fight entirely if he had the innate understanding many liminal beings had when experiencing this with or without knowing what it means. Either way it was clear he knew something.

“I have been hunted, shot, maimed, and tortured by much, much worse.” I threaten. “You do not scare me. And I sure as hell am not going to go down to a nobody like you.” My vision continues to blur and darken at the edges as the adrenaline from the chase starts to wear down, the rapid heart rate pumping my blood much faster than I need it to be to prevent blood loss as more blood seeps from my wounds. That little trick took more energy from me than I anticipated.

The unknown man looks at me, his body language indicating he was confused and concerned. I nearly wanted to laugh but I needed all the energy in case I had to fight. “Shit.. you’re not Demon Brat. Kid,” he starts, his body relaxing ever so slightly, “you need help, let me help you.”

The man takes another step forward, holstering a pistol. When did he draw that to begin with?

I flash my eyes again, a bit weaker this time as I feel my legs start to buckle under me. No. Not now. I can’t go down now. Panic welling up inside me as I growl at him and try to steady myself against the wall.

“Go away,” I muster, throat dry, “this isn’t your problem.” I manage to say as my last attempts to get him to screw off.

The man takes another step towards him, now in arms reach, “Look, I know a doctor who might be able to help you. She-” I stumble a bit and he reaches out ready to catch me, still keeping from touching me, “Shit- kid. She won’t turn you away. She can help. She doesn’t share the identity of her patients. She treats the Bats. You can trust her if not me”

My body shakes at his words. Or maybe I was shaking the entire time. God it was so cold now. Almost as cold as being dead for real. And man do I have experience with that. My entire body felt so heavy and aches everywhere. It was almost peaceful, in a way. Except I hated how dark my vision had gotten and blurred.

Something about how he speaks and acts, I decide in my haste, wanting to not die a second time to trust him. My body relaxes, no longer ready to fight him. Was it a bad idea? Probably but I did not want to die in an alley this time. My vision darkens and the last thing I remember is falling into his arms as my answer to him.

Please help me, stranger.

--------

A/N: This was a fic I planned on writing but got burnt out after writing the first chapter so I figured I'd post it here, maybe it'll motivate me to continue it.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dc x dp crossover #dcxdp #dp x dc #ghost king danny #dp au #jason todd #red hood #danny phantom headcanon #gotham #infinite realms

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