#that time he casually murdered his own brother and it was never brought up again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

controld3vil · 21 days ago

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𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣, 𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨

pairing(s): aemond targaryen x twin!reader

synopsis: “My son, Daeron, what’s he like?” Alicent wondered as she couldn’t recall ever waiting so eagerly for news from her youngest. Oldtown felt distant now; her home was here. “And his sister?”

notes ➜ i got major writers block from writing for rhaenyra :( content warnings: targcest, twincest, happy & bittersweet reunions 😋, features only ONE scene with aemond (at the very end :/), slowburnn

Despite the turmoil of her life – the crowning of her son, the tragic murder of her grandson, Jaehaerys, and the loss of her father as Hand – Alicent never felt as anxious as she did now waiting to meet her son and daughter after more than five years apart. Love for them lingered in her heart, even amidst the estrangement that marked their relationship. Oldtown seemed like a distant memory, a place she sometimes revisited in dreams. It was a compact city of scholars and believers, a center of Faith that once filled her with strength, a quality she now desperately craved. The Queen Dowager sat with her hands folded in her lap, her fingers nervously plucking at the debris on her cuticles, an irritating habit she found impossible to suppress. Each tug felt like a reflection of her own fraying nerves as she prepared to face the children she loved yet scarcely knew.

A hint of red bourbon hair catches Alicent’s eye. “Gwayne.” Her brother turns toward her, momentarily distracted by the horse at his side.

“Sister.”

“I wish to give you my blessing,” she says, her hands folded solemnly. Gwayne steps forward, with a casual ease.

“Wow,” he replies, a light-hearted tone in his voice. “My thanks to the Dowager Queen.” He bobs before glancing back to his tasks, preparing to march south the new Hand, Ser Criston. His men and the forces of King's Landing would soon form a formidable army.

“Have you heard from father?” Alicent asks, her voice laced with anxiety. “I sent word to Highgarden and Oldtown but, there has been no word.” She twiddles her fingers, a restless gesture as she fights to quell her unease.

Her brother picks up her distress. “Otto Hightower is ever resourceful. He will send news when there is news.” His tone suggests a reassuring nonchalance, yet it also reveals his own certainty. Gwayne knew their father well – he rarely wrote unless there was something significant to report. It was not unusual for Otto Hightower to remain silent; he preferred to communicate only when necessary.

Though their conversation comes to a halt, the Queen is left unsatisfied with Gwayne’s dismissal. Her heart is heavy with concern, and she longs for more than just the absence of news.

She peeks into the distance before turning back to him. “I often wonder what life could have been if he had brought you to court instead.” Earnestly, she offers a tentative smile, her expression drawing a warm grin from her older brother, who is charmed by her speculation.

“I’m the oldest son,” he replies, focusing on the object in his hand. “It was right that I was raised in Oldtown.”

“You were eight years of age and motherless. It must have been difficult.” Alicent’s tone carries a mixture of sympathy and concern, her desire to delve deeper into the topic. The knight senses her intention; their conversation is more than just light banter.

He shakes his head again, his demeanor shifting. “You get on with it, don't you? When there isn’t any choice.” His eyes are expectant, as if urging her to reveal what’s truly on her mind.

“My son, Daeron,” the Queen begins, her lips tightening with a mix of pride and longing. “What’s he like?” A small glimmer of affection leaves her eyes when she mentions her youngest, though it stings to know how long it has been since she received from him or even heard his name mentioned. She regrets not having time to raise him, to know the man he might become. Daeron feels like a stranger to her, and despite her disappointment, all she longs for is to seek insight from someone who knows him well.

“Does he not write to you?”

“Less and less, these days.” A subtle curve of her lips transforms into a sad frown.

“Ten and six now,” Gwayne says with a gentle chuckle, warmth flooding his expression at the thought of his beloved nephew. “Let us perhaps hold less of his interest. He's stalwart, clever – adept with both his lute and his sword. And a feature in the fancies of many young ladies, I'll wager.” He pauses, catching the concern on her face. “He's kind."

Relief washes over Alicent, her shoulders relaxing as if a heavy weight has been lifted. A kind son – at least he embodies the benevolence she always had hoped for her children.

“Kindness is a quality I find lacking in his brothers,” she admits, her tone reflecting candid honesty that earns a thoughtful hum from Gwayne. Her thoughts drift back to the one person she has longed to meet. “And his sister?”

The Hightower knight fixes his gaze fondly on his sister. The mention of another niece, one he has watched over, brings forth a rare tenderness in her older brother – a warmth his sister rarely sees. “Well she’s certainly well-regarded,” Gwayne replies, placing both hands on his hips and shifting his weight to one foot. A playful pride lights up his face as he reminisces about the recent achievements of her youngest children. “She’s adapted remarkably well among the scholars. She carries herself with grace and resolve, and they speak highly of her intellect. I’m sure her letters, though few, speak of contentment and growth.”

“Yes, she has,” The Dowager Queen giggles, recalling your recent letter. With every message came, your handwriting and style has evolved. A smile brightens her face at the memory of her earlier struggles with grammar; the first few letters had been messy and disorganized. Though she may have had her doubts as your mother, she is undeniably proud of your respected place among the scholars. “She thrives, or so she assures me. But I yearn to see for myself the woman she is becoming."

Gwayne offers her subtle comfort, placing a hand gently over hers. His reassuring grin promises that when you and Daeron finally come to King’s Landing, a part of her guilt-driven heart will be lifted. “I understand your worries, sister. You’ll have the chance to see them both soon enough.”

Days later, the army returns to King’s Landing, exhausted from a ruthless battle that claimed both casualties and deaths. Ser Gwayne and the Hand, Ser Criston led the march back, to focus on reinforcing their troops and resupplying. The journey was grueling, marked with constant vigilance against Rhaenyra's forces. However, the tension eased momentarily when a dark purple dragon appeared overhead without warning. While the sight terrified the hearts of men, it ignited a spark of relief and joy to Ser Gwayne’s face, leaving Ser Criston bewildered.

The Hand had never seen a dragon with white claws and plum scales.

As you made your unannounced arrival at King’s Landing, chaos erupted. Townsfolk scrambled and fled as your dragon, Blood Moon, circled the castle grounds. Many had not seen your dragon in a long time, and some had never laid their eyes on it before your departure. Blood Moon screeches menacingly, soaring above, casting a shadow over the weary army under Cole’s command. Dragon! The townsfolk gasped in horror, frantically jumping from house to house to hide from the inevitable.

Meanwhile, the Queen Mother rushed to the courtyard, her heart racing at the familiar, nihilistic roar of your dragon. When she caught sight of Blood Moon passing her window, Alicent felt a rush of adrenaline – she knew you had arrived. You were home.

She clutches her dress, tightly, a sharp pain in her chest as the sight of you approaching makes her eyes water instantly. You follow behind her brother and Ser Criston on horseback, conspicuously absent from her dragon. Yet, somehow she knows Blood Moon is close. “My sweet girl!” Alicent rushes forward the moment you dismount, locking eyes with you. Gods, you looked so beautiful. It feels like an eternity since you last met.

“Mother!” In an instant, you were a child again, clamping your arms around her as if to anchor yourself in her presence. You sink into her embrace, basking in the familiar scent of her hair, the warmth of her touch as you nestled your head against her neck, filled with affection.

Alicent pulls back, cradling your face into her hands. “It’s been so long. You’ve grown so much. I can see the change in your eyes…” Her dark, chestnut-colored eyes brim with tears. Her lips quiver as she fights back a sob.

You hold her hands, and offer a soft smile. “I missed you, Mother.” She beams at you, fondly with nostalgia, pecking a gentle kiss on your forehead before gliding her thumbs softly across your cheeks. Gods, you’ve changed. You’re no longer the frightened little girl who resisted staying in King’s Landing. Though Alicent regretted seeing you so sad, she knew it was best for you to learn and grow alongside your brother, Daeron.

There was a time in your early childhood when you dreamed of becoming a lady in waiting for Highgarden, yet when the day arrived, you unexpectedly became homesick, clinging to Alicent like a newborn.

But now, you stand before her, a grown woman. Gone are the days of silly hair ribbons and flowing dresses; you’ve matured into a striking figure, like a blooming rose. Alicent notices how you’ve preferred to braid your hair, gathered in a high ponytail with intricate braids extending from your forehead to the base of your tail. This style frames your face perfectly, allowing her to see your expression fully—happy and radiant. You even complement your look with a striking outfit, featuring long leather garments reminiscent of dragon scales and breastplates adorned with chromatic metal accents.

“I trust the journey to King’s Landing wasn’t too taxing, niece?” Gwayne quips with a playful grin. You let out a short giggle sensing your uncle’s presence behind you.

“It was fine, thank you, Uncle.” You chuckled, turning to see Gwayne with his hands clasped behind his back. Stray hairs fell across his forehead from the skirmish days prior. Though he appeared weary, he maintained a façade of composure as he greeted you.

“You must be exhausted from the journey,” Alicent perks up, as she brushes her fingers over your bare knuckles, sheeply. “Come let us find a place for you to rest and share what I have missed.”

A warm fuzziness flutters in your chest as you savor your mother’s tender urgency. Few understand the depth of her protective love for her children, most only notice her as the former Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Even though you haven’t stepped foot in King’s Landing for so long, you appreciate her efforts to ensure your childhood was a happy one. Many dismiss her as a princess bound to duty to bear heirs, but all forget the countless moments that defined her as a mother. They do not recall her swaddling young Aegon when she was only ten and nine, or rushing to the Godswood to catch Helaena from her wandering. Even that time you attempted to make a flower crown, too small for her head, which Alicent wore to appease your pleas.

The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up with your mother who was determined to stay close to you at all times. You were not sure if she took note of your hesitance, but stepping back into King’s Landing stirred distant memories you had long buried. You couldn’t help but gaze around the different sections of the castle, wondering if any of the tapestries had changed or if new furniture had been added. This familiar yet strange home felt like an enigma as you tried to thread together the small moments of your past.

You had changed out of your dragon gear, and now wore a stunning silver dress, laced with an embroidered corset featured with blossoming gold florals. The transparent cuffs by your wrist added an ethereal touch as well as the sleeves. The Red Keep was a serene and quiet place to study and chat with your mother. You sat beside her by a small table, discussing the latest news from the city. Rumors spread quickly as if they were smoke and you both indulged in whatever topic came to mind, relishing in the intimacy in the moment. Sometimes you would bring up about your time in Oldtown while your mother spoke vaguely about the Council's plans. In all, you were spouting words to fill in the inevitable space of silence, cherishing the connection that always bound you as mother and daughter.

“How is Aegon?” Your eyes flashed with concern when your mother placed down her drink. There was a glint of sadness you saw from her. For a quick flicker, it disappears when the widowed Queen plucks one of the pastries from the plate in the center.

Her voice, though tender, betrays her hesitation. “He is healing. But he will never be the same.” The words hang heavily in the air, a quiet acceptance of the grim truth. Aegon’s body had been ravaged, rotted with infection, covered in sores and pus. Alicent couldn’t say it outright but she knew the cruel reality; he might never walk again. The thought of it was too heavy to bear to tell her daughter. She couldn’t tell you the full extent of his suffering; the memory was still fresh in her mind as if it was only yesterday.

Your breath hinders as you process her words, and a deep frown pulls at your face. “He is alive. That is something I am thankful to the Gods for.” Though your relationship with your eldest brother had always been distant, it was never cold. You made sure to write to all of your siblings whenever you could, each filled with personal messages. Aegon, in particular, was never fond of books or history. He was the one who’d light up any room, the first one to suggest a drink when things had dulled. You would not deny how much you missed his infectious laughter, his wide grin that could cast away your sorrows.

Now it seemed, that smile might never return. The war had stolen it from him as it had stolen so much. A lump forms in your throat, and suddenly you feel tears stinging your eyes. You wiped them away with the back of your palm.

Alicent’s gaze falls, lost in thought as she considers the words she wanted to say but can never bring herself to. She felt, even now, like a failure as a mother. Her mistakes, her foolishness, lingered unspoken between you both. The few letters she sent, the distant exchanges, were all reminders of the distance that had grown between you over the years. She could feel the weight of her own neglect – the little attention she’d given you in letters should have been enough to make you stop writing altogether. But despite it all, you never once turned away from her. Alicent had never felt worthy of your love, and though you had every reason to harbor anger or resentment, her heart ached for failing her children.

It was then she felt your hand creep over hers, the simple touch sending a jolt of surprise through her. Your mother lifts her solemn visage, her heart breaking as she meets your eyes. For all the pain and disappointment she imagined you had, there was no trace anywhere in your expression. You looked at her with stoic calmness, your deep indigo eyes pierced with consideration – and a hint of fondness that made her heart ache even more.

Your demeanor shifts, softening into a sympathetic grin, and with a tear-stricken pout still clinging to your lips, you squeeze her hand gently. “None of this is your fault, Mother.”

“It is,” She weakly admits, her voice faltering as she fights the urge to break down in front of her sweet daughter. “It is my fault, for your brother’s cruelty. Don’t you see?”

You pause, the weight of her words sinking in, but you reply with unwavering certainty. “Aemond may be cruel but he would never kill his brother.” The words come out steady but something shifts when you fully acknowledge your twin since your arrival. His absence feels oddly conspicuous, like a shadow that haunts the hall. The Red Keep, so familiar, now seems strangely hollow with its newly reassigned staff and the ever watchful eyes of the City Watch. Yet, even as the quiet settles in, a desire stirs in you to seek him out. Aemond was never far, even when distance separates you. Now, back in King’s Landing, you find that something in your restless heart settles, as though the mere proximity of the Red Keep could ease your disturbed thoughts.

“You have not laid eyes on him in years, my love,” Alicent pleads, a tremor in her voice as she lowers her gaze, avoiding your eyes. “You don’t know what he has become. Aemond is angry.” The visible fear in her earth-toned eyes is raw and unsettling, like a shadow that lingers in the room, one that threatens to swallow the very air between you.

The incident at Rook’s Rest was ambiguous. You were not there to witness it firsthand, and while you had your suspicions, you could never know for certain who struck first. But you were sure – it had not been intentional. Aegon and Aemond didn’t see eye to eye, but they had always shared the same blood, the same bond. Now, from what your mother described, a flicker of doubt stirs within you, uneasy and unfamiliar, making your heart sink. What had Aemond become in these years of absence?

After your chat, a Kingsguard arrived to summon your mother on urgent matters. The former Queen’s gazes lingered on you for a moment, her expression filled with guilt for interrupting your time on short notice. She catches your comforting smile as she gives a curt nod and exits the Red Keep.

For a while, you were left to your residence with the comforts of nature. You sat by the window, absentmindedly nibbling on forgotten baked goods, their sweetness grounding you as your eyes drift toward the sky. The clouds moved at a glacial pace, their slow drift contrasted to your storm of thoughts brewing in your mind. Momentarily, you are allowed to forget your purpose for coming back to King’s Landing. The afternoon sunshine bathed the room in a golden light, casting a calm, almost serene glow on everything.

You didn’t need much more than that – the gentle warmth, the quiet, and familiar taste of tart delicacies your mother knew you loved. It was enough to quiet your mind, if only for a while. The taste of pastries, sweet and tangy, reminded you of simpler times, of moments before the weight of duty and family obligations tangled your soul. You found yourself yearning for that comfort, anything to keep your mind off the growing unease with the inevitable encounter with Aemond.

It was the early evening when the bells of Baelor rang out. The Great Sept, just a few houses down from King’s Landing, held its call long enough for it to be heard in the very heart of the Red Keep. You had arrived hours earlier, slipping through the castle halls with grace of a predator – quiet, deliberate, waiting for the surge of adrenaline that always accompanied your return to this place.

The Council had met moments prior to your arrival, so you knew you’d have to wait until the morning to join them. The politics of the realm could wait. In the meantime, you roamed the ancient, empty corridors of the Keep, your footsteps the only sound in the silence. The air was thick with history, heavy with memories of a time when the halls had been full of life, of laughter and conversation – before everything had changed.

Your thoughts drifted to your siblings. It’s been far too long since you had been together in one place. The Red Keep, usually so bustling with court, now seemed like a ghost town – empty and hollowed out, a shadow of its former self. The events of the past loomed over you, pressing down with the weight of what had been lost, what had been broken.

Perhaps this is why you found yourself at Aegon’s chambers. Your heart pounded with anticipation when the doors swung open, revealing the King’s quarters. The air within was thick and quiet murmurs of the maesters attending to him, their words halting when they saw you – your unexpected presence casting a brief shadow over the room. It was strange. To see your brother like this – unconscious, barely clinging to life was a sharp bitter thing.

Sorrow gripped you tightly and unrelenting, as you gazed upon Aegon’s tarred state. His skin, once vibrant and strong, was now tarred and burnt, the pale sheen of his injuries almost too much to bear. His legs, now broken, twists, spoke of the pain you could never truly know. For a time you spoke as thought he could hear you, as though he might awaken any moment. You told of your travels through Oldtown, of Daeron’s small but proud achievements. The familiar weight of his absence made your words tumble out like a lifeline, a way to fill the space between the present and the years that had passed.

It was comforting, in a way, to be near him again. Though this was not the reunion you had hoped. Years ago, Aegon struggled with the position of being the firstborn son to King Viserys. The expectations that pressed upon him, the constant weight of responsibility, were more than any young should bear. Your mother, with her quiet but unyielding voice, had often spoken of it – how the throne was his to inherit, and how Rhaenyra’s claim, a constant reminder of a fractured family, only deepened the divide. The more Alicent and Otto insisted on Aegon’s future, the more you saw him under pressure. He never wanted to defy his sister, yet torn between duty and blood. You had watched him from the shadows, seen his faults, his mistakes, but only made you love him more. In his moments of playfulness, you had found a fleeting sensation of freedom, a reminder that even in the midst of terrible situations, he was your brother.

You watched his chest rise and fall, with each breath fragile of life. The weight on your heart lifted, if only slightly, as held onto that small reassurance: Aegon was still alive. He was still strong. He was the Blood of the Dragon, the rider of Sunfrye, and he was your King. No matter what came next, you would stand beside him, sworn to protect him, willing to give your last breath if it meant keeping him safe.

You left your brother to rest, and set off in search of your next destination. Deep down, you knew where you’d go first, where you always went for comfort, to Helaena. She is the balm to your restless soul, the voice that could untangle your anxieties with a few soft words. When the world seemed too large, too overwhelming, her presence was a silent sanctuary.

Helaena, the second daughter of King Viserys, had been both a mentor and maternal figure to you in your younger years. Her kindness had been a steady anchor in your life, her wisdom a guiding light when the weight of your responsibilities felt too much to bear. As a child, you sought her out whenever you felt lost or afraid and her gentle guidance had given you the courage to venture into new worlds. Her advice forever shaped you in ways you hadn’t fully realized until you left for Oldtown. In that city, with its strange customs and faces, you leaned onto her worlds to adapt quickly, to carve out your own place.

When you found your sister in your old playroom, sewing quietly with her daughter, it felt as if no time had passed. The familiar sight and sounds of the room washed over you – its warmth, its history, the memories that had once made it a sanctuary for both of you. Helaena’s moved with the same careful precision you remembered, her fingers threading the needle with quiet grace. Her daughter, Jaehaera, sat beside her, her wide eyes fixated on her mother’s work. You stood for a moment, watching them and a smile tugging at your lips. The sight of them – mother and daughter, together in their own world, stirred something deep inside you. The years between you seemed to melt away in an instant.

Quietly, you crept closer, your footsteps soft on the floor as you approached the pair. A mischievous grin spread across your face, without earning you shouted, using your niece’s shrill cry to startle your sister. Helaena 's hands faltered, the needle slipping from her grasp as her face registered in shock, her expression frozen for just a heartbeat before it shifted into relief and then pure joy.

She stood quickly, her eyes wide with excitement, as she took you in from head to toe. And then, without a moment, a silent sob escaped her lips, her hand pressing to her chest as she whispered your name.

“Sister…” she breathed, her voice thick with emotion.

Unexpected and sharp, there was a lump in your throat. You swallowed it down, trying to steady yourself but the emotions surged in a way you had not anticipated. “It’s good to see you, Helaena.” you whispered, the words catching as they left your lips.

For what felt like an eternity, you indulge yourself in the soothing warmth of rosemary oils and the sweet aroma of fragrant tea. The tapestry above the balcony swayed gently in the rhythm with the tides, the fabric rippling like satin kissed by the breeze, catching the light in delicate waves. The sunshine poured in the small opening between the outside world and your private space, casting a soft, translucent pink hue across the horizon. The late summer warmth wrapped around you like a blanket, filling the room with a quiet comfort that you never find elsewhere.

A porcelain tea cup sat at the edge of the table, its base a soft coral pink, the edges trimmed in lustrous gold. Besides it, the matching coaster resonated with the same elegance. The teapot shared the same intricate design, its spout crafted to imitate the graceful curves of vineyard vines. Tiny matcha leaves curled around the handle, their delicate shapes glinting with golden highlights. It was a beautiful set – one that made the room feel like a pristine sanctuary, but something was missing. The topper.

Sometimes, in the stillness of these moments, you would let your imagination roam. You would pretend you were some from a faraway land. It seemed childish, almost absurd, but it lingered with you. You often wondered what the world was like beyond Westeros, the vast deserts of Dorne, the mysterious lands of Essos, or the distant, shadowed shores of Asshai. Asshai especially. The thought of it, so remote, so mysterious, had always called to you. You used to daydream that you were a girl from Asshai, someone who knew nothing of wealth, beauty, or the court of King’s Landing.

You imagined yourself seeing the teapot for the first time. You would change your character, each time with a different persona – some curious wanderer, a child of the unknown, discovering the simple elegance of a teapot that seemed to carry more meaning than it should. You’d pretend to be in awe, a stranger to luxury and react differently each time, letting your curiosity guide your every movement.

It was strange, but comforting. In those moments, you could be anyone – but the child of a royal bloodline.

Alicent, however, found you peculiar. In many ways, you were nothing like Aemond, despite being his twin. While she hoped you would be as easy to mold as Helaena or as compliant as Aemond, you were neither. You had a quiet way of drawing attention, of showing interest in things that made others uneasy. Aemond, with his fiery intensity, demanded things, but you – your power laid in silence.

From a young age, you have learned how to meet people with nothing more than a glance, a tilt of your head, or the quiet intensity in your eyes. Alicent never could figure out how you did it – how you could command attention with such subtlety. She often watched, perplexed, as your eyes would light up at the slightest opportunity or how your lips would press into a small pout when the Kingsguard denied you entry into her office. And then, with practiced ease, you would cry – small, silent tears that glistened like pearls on your cheeks. The effect was always the same. Suddenly, the men who had once denied you would be at your feet, ready to do whatever you asked.

Alicent didn’t know the secret. You did.

It was almost too easy for you, the way the ceramic topper fits perfectly into your hand, as if it had always been meant for you. The weight, barely there, seemed to vanish the moment you cradled it, leaving only the sensation of smooth china beneath your fingers. Your gaze traced the delicate rims, following the curve with the tip of your thumb as you glide over the shiny finish.

For an old teapot, it remained unchanged, an artifact from the past that, like the porcelain, had been carefully preserved. It reminded you of childhood, of simpler days that felt like they belonged to someone else. A smile, slow and wistful, tugged at your lips as memories drifted to the surface – tea parties held in this room, alone with the teapot, lost in your imagination.

“Do you miss this?” Helaena’s meek words cut through the quiet, grounding you back into reality. Her words were simple, yet they carried weight. She stood before you, her eyes intent but tender, watching you with a knowing gaze that seemed to see straight through your soul. Never one for many words, Helaena was always able to strike the right chords when it mattered. Conversations between you two never cluttered, there was no need for endless explanation. It was as if, without saying much, you both understood each other completely. She knew the thoughts you carried without needing to ask. And somehow, you always knew hers.

Your grin fades, the playfulness slipping away as you grow contemplative, searching her face for any trace of misunderstanding or unspoken hurt.

“I do,” Your tone coming out slightly more strained than usual. “They don’t have tea parties or play dates in Oldtown. They don’t have anything, really,” The final words felt heavier, laid with sorrow that you hadn’t quite realized was there until now.

A somber silence hangs, the weight of your absence pressing down onto the room. Oldtown had been another world entirely – foreign, starkly different from the warmth of King’s Landing. As much as you had once embraced the city’s beauty, part of your childhood still lived here, among these walls, among the memories shared in this very room. Your eyes drift over the old ornaments and forgotten toys, each one sparking a fleeting moment of nostalgia. It was as though you were caught between two places, two worlds, each different from the other at the ends of the map.

Helaena, ever so quiet, glances down at her sewn collage, her fingers pausing mid-motion. She was lost in thought, the needle still in her hand as she set it aside carefully. Without a word, she scoots closer, settling beside you on a plush cushion. The cushion is periwinkle, a soft reminder of your childhood obsession with the color pink. You smile faintly, remembering how everything had once been pink to you – the teapot set, the floors, even the smallest trinkets. If you had ruled the Seven Kingdoms, Helaena was certain the banners would have been changed to a soft shade of pink, just because you would have insisted on it.

Of course you would. The thought of it, so hysterical, almost makes you laugh. But for now, there’s only the quiet companionship of the moment, and the comfort of your sister’s presence beside you like a silent reassurance that despite the years and distance, this place, this feeling, would always be home.

When the Queen’s knees made contact with yours, you felt the quiet look, filled with anticipation, but not fear, only certainty and love. “I hope you mean to stay this time.”

Her words settled in the space between you, gentle but insistent, like a tender plea. For a second, you simply stared at her, her warmth radiating outward, but your response came without thinking.

“Stay?” you asked, almost as if the very concept of it was foreign to you.

“Stay here,” She planted her palm onto the soft woolen rug, her fingers splayed wide, almost spider-like. “Here.”

There were a few things about Helaena that could catch you off guard, but her sweetness had always been one of them – an undeniable force that softened even the hardest edges of your heart. Still you hesitated.

“Helaena—” You faltered, unsure how to voice the conflict swirling inside you. “I don’t know—”

��Mother would want you to stay.” Your elder sister leans forward, as you witness the beauty of her ribbon silver hair up close. “I want you to stay. It’s been too long, I’ve missed you. Aemond misses you—“

“Aemond.” You repeat, sharply, each syllable weighted with spite. Your expression darkened, the emotions inside you shifting to a cold, quiet rage. “After all these years, he does not come to see me come home. Not even a word from our mother or Cole.” The words tasted like ash on your tongue, heavy with the silence that built between your twin.

Helaena, unfazed by your tone, leans in even closer, her voice faint. “That is what he does.” she said simply, her lilac orbs meeting yours with understanding. “Aemond is… who he is.”

“And you say he misses me…?” The words left your mouth with sharpness that even surprised you, your voice laced with disbelief and frustration.

“I know you are upset, sister,” The Queen reached out to grab your wrist, the one holding the teapot topper as if to calm the storm brewing in your head. Her touch was gentle, yet firm, the kind of protective care only a mother could offer. It was the same tenderness she had to her own children, an unwavering love. “But believe me, Aemond would’ve been there for you… It’s just… He’s not himself lately.”

“Rook’s Rest,” The name falling from your lips with weight of its own. The rumors had reached you, whispered among the soldiers and your uncle’s counsel. They spoke of things that had been kept hidden, too raw and dangerous to put into words. “He was there,” The realization creeping up your spine like an icy chill. You had tried to be discreet, seen enough in the faces of the men who had returned from that place, the devastation in their eyes, the scars that would never heal. “Did he… Was he there?”

Helaena’s silence spoke volume. The Queen hesitated, her expression flickering between you and her thoughts. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she nodded, the tension in her jaw was apparent as she unclenched her teeth, the words coming out strained. “He almost killed Aegon.”

The silent recollection of your brother’s condition, his broken legs and half burnt face. The weight of it crushed you in a way words couldn’t describe. You had sworn to avenge, promised yourself that you would hunt down whoever was responsible. It was Aemond. Him. Your other half. The brother you had once shared everything with, now the source of your deepest grief.

For a while, you felt like a child again, small and helpless, standing in the shadow of things you could not control. The memories flooded back, the days your brother claimed Vhagar, the dragon that should have been Laena’s daughters, a move that had shaken your family to the core. You had been in Oldtown by then, unaware of the unfolding storm, but a raven arrived with the news that made your blood run cold. You knew, even from miles away, that Aemond had done something that could not be undone.

As a result, he lost an eye. You could imagine it vividly, the moment when his world – your world changed forever. From a distance, you were devastated. But there was no room for grief, no time to mourn. All you could do was watch, helpless as everything you once knew spiraled further away. The cold empathy you felt in the pit of your stomach couldn’t be expressed, instead it festered, twisting inside you like a wound that never healed.

You were never a part of the war your family had started, yet here you were, caught between duty and the chaos they created. And now, with Aegon, weak and broken, you couldn’t help but worry for Aemond, about his ambition, about the hunger in him that only grew since your separation. It had been long overdue. The moment you would have to face the One-Eyed Prince. But you wondered, would he still look at you with the same sentiments or stare at you coldly for how absent you’ve been?

The fleeting hours of your restless dreams had long since faded. As the bright sunrise bathed the room in soft light, you shared breakfast with your uncle and your mother. Helaena, however, had chosen to eat in her room, not wanting to disrupt the delicate reunion between the Dowager Queen and her brother. You had insisted on staying with her, but she had quietly declined, offering a gentle pat to your shoulder. Her gaze lingered on you, full of unspoken concern, a clear hint of worry for your restless sleep. How did she know? You had asked once, but Helaena wouldn’t say a word.

“You’re thinking about him,” she said, softly, noticing your hesitation. You didn’t flinch or give a nervous sigh. You simply said nothing, your body frozen for a moment before you hummed in response.

“I never realized how long it’s been… until I saw you. How different you look,” you murmured, distractedly tracing the lines of your palm. You shifted slightly in your stance, and Helaena mirrored you, her head leaning closer into your personal space.

She smelt of lavender and poppy – Helaena always did.

“Talk to him.” she urged, her voice quiet but insistent.

You pondered as you walked, your mind racing with thoughts of how to approach Aemond, while your heart thudded in your chest, refusing to be ignored. As you made your way down to the Red Keep, you realized that your mother and uncle had long since finished breakfast. Gwayne was preparing for another march with Cole, and Alicent had slipped away, offering you a sympathetic smile as she excused herself from the table. For once, you found yourself leaving with your uncle to a grand feast set for twenty – but your appetite had long since vanished.

“I trust you are well acquainted with the place?” he teased, his voice light with a playful edge. With no one else in the room except for passing maids, you let out a soft chuckle.

“My early childhood was here,” you replied, your gaze drifting to the half-full glass of wine in your hand. “Everything feels the same.”

“Good to know nothing has changed,” Gwayne muttered with a dramatic sigh, shoveling tart in his mouth.

“But I’ve changed,” you said, lifting your glass to the light. The sun streamed through the window, casting a red hue over the liquid that shimmered like a blood moon. “I don’t belong here anymore.” You could feel the eyes of lords and ladies as you passed by strangers and familiar faces alike, each gaze heavy with contempt. They looked at you as if you no longer had the right to be here, as if this place, once your home, no longer welcomed you.

Gwayne’s voice cut through your thoughts. “That doesn’t change your place here,” he said, firmly, studying your face as you rubbed the tension from your brow. “The lords of Westeros are nothing but greedy old men. They should not concern you.”

You know he was right. You were more than they thought, more than the whispers and the cold stares. You were still the daughter of the late king, and that commanded respect, no matter how they looked at you.

Your gaze lifted, a small smile curling on your lips as you beamed at your uncle. “You’re right.”

“You have every right to be here, sweet niece.” he said, rising from his seat and stepping toward you. His hand gently brushed through your hair, and his auburn eyes, filled with empathetic warmth, offered you quiet comfort. “Your brother will be here in a few days.”

“Ah,” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, a fleeting moment of joy. Daeron, your beloved brother, would join the battle alongside you. You had missed his sharp wit and clever nature more than you cared to admit. The bond you shared was unbreakable, he was the one you had confided in, the one with whom you had bedtime stories in your childhood. You’d watched him grow, maturing into a young man with a fierce spirit. Together, you’d flown with Blood Moon, him with his passion for adventure, and you with your love for literature. You couldn’t help but smile wishfully. “I’m sure he terribly misses me.”

This time, the knight laughs, a soft, knowing sound, as he gives the back of your chair a light, affectionate pat. “He’ll be challenging every lord and knight that would ever look down on you.”

The moment it happened, a hollow emptiness settled within you. In that vulnerable space, you sought solace, mediating in silence as the clouds drifted lazily across the sky. Beneath the sacred boughs of the Godswood, you sat with a quiet sense of divinity and pride. The place was often sought by others, but you claimed it for yourself, a refuge where you could empty your mind. Your arrival was gentle, unhurried. You moved with patience, your steps slow as you approached the great roots of the tree, stepping into its cool shade. The tree itself was majestic – its crimson leaves a remainder of autumn’s embrace. One leaf detached from a high branch, falling gracefully through the air. Without thinking, your hands reached out, catching it as it floated toward the Earth, landing perfectly into your palm.

And then, he appeared.

“Sister,” came his voice, unmistakable, sending a chill down your spine. The sound of it stirred something deep within you, a hunger you had tried to quell. You felt a shiver ripple through you, desperately resisting the urge to show any excitement at his sudden presence. It had long been so long, and after all the time you spent in King’s Landing, Aemond chose now, of all moments to seek you out? “It’s been ages since we’ve been given your presence.” he remarked, his tone sharp, almost teasing.

You turn to face him, noting the neutral timber of his voice. Your brother, he’s changed. His posture was poised, his features more refined. The years had shaped him, as you had expected. He was no longer the boy who cried for a dragon, but the man who had claimed Vhagar – the Queen of Dragons, the largest beast to ever soar across the Seven Kingdoms during Aegon’s Conquest. A small part of you wondered if he might look at you the same way. You, too, had changed. Gone was the mischievous girl who caused trouble for your mother to clean up. Now, you were a woman – grown, poised, and more refined than ever.

You give a curt nod. “Aemond.”

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment, as if unsure how to read the shift in your demeanor. His arms crossed behind his back as he stepped closer. Dressed in obsidian leather from head to toe, a dagger sheath resting at his hip, he presented himself like a predator. His eye patch sat comfortably over his face, and his silvery hair flowed straight and silken, like the velvet fabrics of Highgarden.

“I thought you’d forgotten this place.” He closed the distance between you. Most people would have stepped back when he approached, but you stood firm. There was no fear in your gaze, only a subtle scowl – the one he would know all too well. “Do you remember the stories we used to tell here?” Aemond’s tone shifted, growing softer, almost nostalgic. “Before you drove us apart?”

Oh. His tone is sharp, reflecting the past you both left behind, laced with a hint of nostalgia. He prowls closer, as if waiting for some retributive excuse, a justification that might ease the tension between you.

Yet you respond with a mixture of skepticism and offense. “I haven’t forgotten this place.” you say, your voice steady, but your glance betrays a moment of vulnerability, tinged with grief. "It holds memories — both good and bad." The weight of those memories presses on you, the remnants of a shared past that broke the moment you stepped away from King’s Landing. You had left him behind, left him to dwindle with your mother and siblings, while you sought something else, something that still stirs beneath the surface, unresolved, as it had been the day you left. “Do you think I have forgotten you?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy with the years and emotions that separate you now. The One-Eyed Prince halts as if he lays caught red-handed. But he quickly recovers, regaining his rigid posture. “You left, sister. You chose Oldtown over your family.” he says, bitterness lacing his words.

“Only because I had to,” you retort, knowing it was a weak excuse with the way your frustration was bubbling to the surface. “I didn’t abandon you.”

You were pleading at this moment, the tone of your voice meek and growing softer. However his silence was deafening, thickening the tension like a storm cloud. “I was left here alone.” Aemond says, his voice strained. “While you were away, I had to earn my place. We were once one, yet it was you who separated us. You think I wanted to be alone?”

The silence stretched between you, immeasurable and heavy with unspoken grievances. Memories flooded back into your mind — shared laughter, sibling quarrels, late night sneakouts to the Godswood, the bond you once had was failing. You wanted to berate his discretion, to defend your choice and consequences but the weight of his gaze pulls at you. The subtle yearning you both missed for years, miles apart from Oldtown to Kings Landing. Even as a child, you felt the odd coincidence, always finding Aemond’s stare back to yours. The Blood of the Dragon ran thick, weaving a bond neither of you could fully escape.

“I need you, brother,” You spoke in High Valyrian for the first time in years, adopting a strange accent. It felt rushed and rigid against your tongue yet you persisted, with ease. “More than I care to admit. The tides are shifting in King's Landing. Alliances are fraying, and we cannot face this alone.” It’s a desperate plea that escapes your lips, a vulnerability that rarely shows anymore. You were never emotionally empathetic, exceptionally only with your mother and sister. But with Aemond, you had shown glimpses of the weight you carried, moments that spoke of the things you long buried.

Your brother searches your face, his gaze searching for the truth in your eyes. His resolve falters, the harshness in his expression giving way to something softer. Your own softened expression features seem to shatter in his mind, like a broken ship in the middle of a nasty sea storm.

“You expect me to forget?” His voice cracks, the words laced with pain. “To forgive the years of silence?” For a fleeting moment, something in him flickers – something raw, something real. You notice the brief exposure, a fleeting softness in his eye, before it vanishes, replaced by anger. But in that moment, your gaze doesn’t waver. You look at him lovingly, tracing every line and contour of his face, the old and the new. You remember the boy he once was – the faint blush of his childhood cheeks, the tousled hair that now Aegon wore as his own, the green emerald clothes that pleased your mother so.

But he was no longer that young boy. Aemond’s cheeks were more refined, the delicacy of youth replaced by a hardened appearance. His lean physique tells you he’s trained well with swords. His missing eye, his most defining feature, reminds you of the day he claimed Vhagar, while losing that very eye.

“Don’t forget,” you said, your voice steady as you mirrored his every move, no longer concerned with the forgotten leaf on the ground. You stood just a few feet apart, your gaze fierce, unwavering. “Two heads are better than one, Aemond. Because the Blood of the Dragon flows through us.”

The weight of your shared history hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Your palms were slick with sweat, the tension of your nerves palpable. Yet you remained still, your posture resolute, like a dragon poised to strike.

Aemond finally exhales, feeling the remnants of his anger slowly dissipate like mist. “I don’t trust you.”

You step closer, merely under his gaze, close enough to make out hesitation and contempt from his momentary silence. The possibility of rebuilding what was lost was upon you, hanging on the threads of your next words. It was like a fragile thread, binding you together that guarantees loyalty is a promise.

“Let me earn it.” Sincerity in your voice cuts through the air yet the weight of the past lingers, like a shadow. Aemond walks closer, studying you for a moment. His intensity is sharp and brittle. The air you breathe under feels electric with the tension between you evolving into something that may appear on the brink of hope.

This time, you see intrigue under his gaze, enjoying the short moment of nostalgia happening. “You think it’s that simple?” His voice is low, laced with doubt. “Years of silence can’t be erased with just a few words.”

There is a flicker of something that eases his gaze, but it quickly vanishes.

“I know,” You say, settling on the weight of his words like the branches of the Godswood tree behind you. “I won’t abandon you again. I swear it.”

And like the boy you had always known, his breath hitches, the storm of emotions swirling in his one good eye. For a moment, you stand within the vicinity of each other’s comfort, relishing in the warmth of his presence, the ghost of your shared youth – the unkempt promises spirling around you, binding you in ways that were painful and profound.

Eventually, he exhales, easing the tension in his shoulders slightly. “I don’t trust you.” The edge of his voice mellowed, hinting at a reluctant approval. Aemond’s gaze holds yours for a moment longer, as he memorizes every bit part of you. You catch onto his discreet watch and that act alone stirs your heart, creeping a faint smile on your lips. As he walks away, the bittersweet ache settles into your heart. Your promise hangs in the air, intertwining with the silhouettes of your former younger selves. Though it feels uncertain, you know that the Blood of the Dragon runes through you both, that could potentially mend the distance between you.

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dominimoonbeam · 2 years ago

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Don’t Run - 4

you can find the series from the start over on patreon.

tags for the series: mobsters, dark themes, bad childhood, arranged marriage, reference to past violence, reference to past murder

DON’T RUN - CHAPTER FOUR.

When Adi walked into the café, Ezra was already sitting in a booth with their food while Molly was across the crowded room in line at the counter. He slid in across from him, scooting down. Ezra pushed his order in front of him, the grilled chicken wrap with a side of fries—his usual at Connie’s.

“Adi, where did Molly come from?” Ezra asked almost sweetly. Whenever he asked things sweetly, Adi knew he was up to no good.

He raised an eyebrow, his knees bumping Ezra’s under the table. Ezra didn’t pull his back, one leg sliding out to hook around the back of Adi’s shoe. “Did Freya ask about Molly?”

Ezra laughed and the sound eased something Adi hadn’t realized was tense in his chest. “No. She did ask about storage units though.” He winked and Adi wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. His gaze flicked to the side again, to where Molly was standing at the counter, flirting with the barista. “Seeing your mob wife being all fish out of water in Everton just got me wondering how Molly ended here... I heard somewhere that she kidnapped Grayson and he talked her into coming home with him.”

Adi smiled, taking a bite of his wrap. He had heard that story too. He was pretty sure his sisters, Victoria, had started it. She had been trying to cast shadows on Molly’s reputation but unintentionally bolstering Grayson’s legend instead. Like he could charm his abductor into being his best friend. “He brought her home,” he confirmed. He had never really been sure what happened or where she came from. Molly was definitely a thug before she showed up in Everton. She seemed to have her own money too—despite all of Grayson’s mother’s claims that she was mooching off her son.

Adi watched the barista blush at something Molly said before handing over her drink.

Molly crossed the café to them, her dark eyes flicking around the room and her smile cold, hollowing out with every step until she slid into the booth beside Ezra. She was waiting for Grayson. Adi felt like he only ever saw her when she was either with his brother, or waiting for his brother. What did the bruiser do on her own time? Ezra saw her at his gym, beating on punching bags or running on the treadmill in her boots like her life depended on it.

Everyone in the family had been suspicious of her when she arrived…many still were. Adi had gotten over his worries. Molly wasn’t playing some long con on his family. In fact, he was pretty sure she didn’t give a shit about his family. She loved Grayson, in her own sort of way, and Grayson loved her in his. They were odd, but who was Adi to judge?

“Ezra wants to know what brought you to Everton,” Adi tossed out.

Ezra grinned, turning a little to the side to look at Molly, waiting for an answer.

She pushed some of her curls out of her face and behind an ear. That ear was mangled, a chunk missing and the scar twisted. “A boat,” she answered and then sipped her drink.

Adi smiled.

Ezra laughed.

Molly took another drink, and he thought it was to hide her own smile. “How’s married life?” she asked.

Adi shrugged. “Still alive.” He snagged a baby tomato off of Ezra’s plate. It had happened once, years ago, that Ezra got Adi’s side salad and Adi got Ezra’s fries. They’d been ordering it backwards like that and picking off each other’s plates ever since. “That reminds me,” he played casual, looking his best friend in the eye when he said, “I want you to seduce my wife.”

Molly froze, coffee in hand between her mouth and the table. Her gaze cut between the two of them as if confirming that she wasn’t the one being asked. As soon as she confirmed she wasn’t, she laughed.

Ezra on the other hand, stared straight back at him. “Are you high?”

“We’ve been friends since we were kids. You can’t do me this one favor?”

“Friends? Is that what you think we are?” Ezra grinned, his knee bumping between Adi’s under the table and amusement gleaming in his eyes.

Adi waved a hand in the air, as if semantics could be brushed aside. “You’re already friends with her, aren’t you? Just keep that up and find out when she’s going to kill me.”

“What makes you think I’d want to stop her?”

Adi stabbed more salad off Ezra’s plate.

Molly leaned back into her seat, getting comfortable. “It’s a stupid plan,” she said, clearly only vaguely invested in the situation.

Ezra nodded, taking a couple fries off Adi’s plate. “She’s right. You’re missing the obvious risk…”

“What risk?” Adi demanded.

“What if we fall in love?”

Adi raised an eyebrow, undaunted. Ezra didn’t fall in love. If he did, he would be in love with Adi. Obviously. “You would betray me?”

“For love?” Ezra was using his shit-stirring tone, it came with a smirk secured in one corner of his mouth. Fuck, Adi liked that smirk.

Adi leaned back into his seat, staring across the table at the other man. He regretted sitting across from him instead of beside him. He wanted to kiss that smirk.

“She’d suspect your plan, wouldn’t she?” Ezra asked. Did that mean he was he considering it?

“That’s what makes it brilliant. She’s trying to weasel into my life, right? What better way to get dirt on me than to fuck my boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Ezra practically sang. “I see I’ve been promoted from friend!”

Adi hated the heat that rushed his face. He thumped his knee to Ezra’s under the table.

“You still haven’t realized the risk, Adi…” Ezra teased.

“The bit about love?”

Ezra laughed. “That was bullshit. The real problem will be if she isn’t plotting against you. Then what? You had your best-friend-slash-boyfriend seduce her to spy on her? What kind of precedent will that set for your marriage?”

Adi swore. “It’s not a real marriage. Assuming we both survive the first year, we’ll get divorced and go back to being enemies. She’ll go return to the mountain, and I’ll get my apartment back.”

“It’s legal. I’d say that’s real.”

“She lives in your house,” Molly added, as helpful as a bullet.

“She might not even be interested in men,” Ezra said thoughtfully before pointedly looking Adi over. His skin always felt warmer when Ezra did that, but he pretended not to notice. “Have you two…consummated things?”

Adi snorted, he knew they hadn’t. “No.” It wasn’t that he couldn’t sleep with Freya. He’d slept with plenty of women and plenty of them strangers. But he barely trusted her at his table let alone in his bed. He hadn’t been in a room with her without having at least a knife on his person. She was a Morgan and the last time their two families had a blood feud wasn’t nearly far back enough to be forgotten.

“Huh. Maybe it isn’t legal then,” Molly said.

Adi shot her a warning glare. The last thing he needed was his parents telling him to fuck someone. He shuddered at the thought. Molly looked away, catching the gaze of the barista again and flashing a smile. Like him and Ezra, Molly swung both ways. “But if my wife isn’t into men, maybe…”

Molly’s eyes snapped back to him, just as cold and closed off to him as ever. Whatever smile had been available to the barista was certainly not for him. “I don’t work for you,” she reminded.

Ezra turned sideways to look at her, his arm stretching along the back of the booth behind her shoulders. One of his eyebrows pitched in a “oh really?” gesture. “What an odd way of declining a man asking you to prostitute for him,” he mused.

Adi scowled, not appreciating how he was wording that.

“Would you do it if Grayson asked?” Ezra continued. Adi knew it was just out of curiosity but there was something dangerous about this line of questioning—something that hedged all the questions about who Molly Hallow really was and where she had come from.

“He wouldn’t ask.”

“What if he did?” Ezra pressed, unrelenting.

Molly took another drink of her coffee, seeming to think about it or maybe just considering leaving. Even after all those years, Adi wasn’t sure she was actually a friend of theirs rather than obligated to them through his brother. Even if they were half-brothers, Adi had never doubted that Grayson loved him. Grayson loved the whole family.

Despite all of the shit some of them had pulled on Molly over the years, and all the nasty things they had said to try to get a rise out of her or push her out, Molly had never reacted. She had never laid a hand on any of them. Not even that time Victoria tried to slap her. When Molly dodged the swing easily, Vic had thrown her drink instead, channeling her inner soap-opera goddess. Molly had actually smiled and finished her meal.

Their old man said she was well-trained. Of course, he hadn’t said that when Grayson was around. Gray would have taken offense. Adi understood why. It made her sound like a dog, like something less than human. Most people, even their dad, either thought she was really dedicated to her role, or a very good goon. But Adi thought he’d figured out the truth. He’d seen her lose her shit on strangers that started fights with her in clubs. He’d seen her mean grin and the way she could cut at people with her words. And in all those years, Adi had noticed that the only people truly safe from her were the people Grayson loved. She wasn’t his brother’s dog; she was his fucking friend, and they were all so warped that they couldn’t see it.

Suddenly Adi wasn’t sure he wanted her to answer the question because as far as he could tell, there was nothing Molly Hallow wouldn’t do for Grayson Ellis. So, what would happen if he asked her to seduce someone? She would do it. She would do much worse for him.

“He wouldn’t ask,” Adi found himself saying and then shrugging like it was boring to even question her. Maybe it was. Because his brother really wouldn’t ask that of her. And yet, Adi would ask Ezra? Probably because he knew Ezra would tell him to fuck off. Hopefully that was why it was okay for him to ask. “Forget it, Ezra, it was a dick idea,” he conceded, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Ezra chided, sipping his drink. “I’ll see what I can do. She really did ask about storage units…”

Molly’s interest perked up then. “What kind of units?”

Ezra shrugged. “Didn’t give me dimensions, just asked while I was giving her the tour of the neighborhood.”

“You pointed out the orange ones? Safe Storage?”

Ezra nodded, finishing his sandwich.

“Shouldn’t be hard to find out if she gets a unit there,” Molly said, uninterested again.

“What do you think she’s going to do?” Adi asked her.

Molly shrugged. “Probably just feed her family information about yours…until something goes wrong with whatever negotiations Sybil has with your old man. Then she’ll probably help them kidnap one of your younger siblings or, hopefully, just intercept a shipment—something to get them leverage. I guess if Sybil decides to go full salted earth, she might get her to kill you while they kill your dad.”

Adi stared at her, not sure if he loved or hated the completely detached, bored tone of her voice as she reported the possibilities.

Ezra burst, laughing hard. “Christ, Mol! Like it’s a weather report!”

Molly took another drink of her coffee.

Adi just stared straight at her, annoyed by how easily she had said that last bit. “You really think Freya can kill me?” he asked, voice low and offense settling into his chest.

Molly put her cup down and stared back at him. “I think that barista could kill you.”

Adi forgot his food and Ezra stopped laughing. He could feel his friend looking at him, his legs under the table squeezing one of Adi’s as if to anchor him—to bring him back from that slow rising rage. “What the fuck does that mean?” Adi demanded instead.

Molly sighed like she was tired of him. Like this was her city and not his. This was the infuriating part of her. She didn’t even tense. She wasn’t afraid of him or his anger. Not even a little bit. “I mean anyone can kill anyone.”

Adi tried to accept that. It wasn’t about him and any shortcomings on his part. It was some bleak world view. “So, the barista could kill you?”

Molly smiled a little and picked up her cup, holding it toward him as if to say “yes, see?” and then taking another big swallow. She put it down and sighed.

Adi rolled his eyes and looked away, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension in them. Great, now he had to worry about being poisoned.

Grayson walked in and up to their table. He took one look around at them before cracking a smile. “Well, this seems fun…” His gaze landed on Ezra and he nodded hello. “Are they fighting?”

Ezra shook his head, eating more fries. “Adi wants me to fuck his wife.”

Adi snorted. “Not exactly what I said…”

Grayson picked up Molly��s coffee and took a drink, sliding into the booth beside Adi. “Where is she now?”

Adi shrugged. “Probably the apartment.”

Ezra shook his head. “She’s at the park.”

Everyone stared at him, not just Adi.

Ezra blinked and then smiled, lifting and waving his phone at them. “We’ve been texting.”

Grayson bit back a smile and leaned into Adi’s side. “You really weren’t joking… This is your plan? Well…You always did like a bad plan.”

#don't run #honest liars series #romance #own work #mobster trio #adi/ezra/freya #thanks for reading!! <3

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wiedzmacienia · 1 year ago

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HEADCANON: INTIMACY

As a forewarning, this is going to be a long post and also have some triggers which will be tagged.

Katarzyna has a complicated relationship with intimacy in it's various forms: familial, platonic, romantic, casual. These dynamics color her experiences and decisions as the passage of time falls upon her. She is old, over six hundred centuries having passed by the modern age of her story. In some instances she is very free with how she shows affection and in others she can be extremely closed off. One doesn't negate the other or even have to relate to the other as these dynamics can be completely different by situation or type of bond she has with the person.

As a mortal human, a child, she was very openly affectionate with her family. She craved hugs and gave them freely. She played with her brother, them chasing each other around the forest. She she smiled and would hug other children to cheer them up or comfort them in an almost motherly way even though she was young. As a child she would grant her parents friends hugs even. And in relation to her brother Kasper (@everythingheard), for example, they are twins; two sides of the same coin, perhaps even soul. Their bond was strong from the moment they came screaming into this world. As children often do, especially in that time, they shared cradles and beds for a number of years until their father built them their own. When she had nightmares or storms were scary, when she wanted to feel safe she would sleep in bed with him just as he would her. They felt safe with each other. And when they were pulled from their home and cast into the flames for daring to be witches all she had wanted to do was be able to hold him and protect him from the pain of being beaten by the villagers and the fires which turned them to ash. That, the fact she could not protect him, couldn't hold him hurt more than the fire. And when they came back to life it was only Kasper she could stand to be around closely for a number of years her trust in humans, in others gone. She would flinch at someone brushing by her. Kasia would always trust her brother. But her trust in anyone else had been shaken and projected into her relationship with touch from anyone else.

Even a decade later, when she began to entertain the courtship of a warlock from the village the twins had settled in, knowing she would need to marry and live, she largely resisted his advances, it taking much time for her to be comfortable around him. Regardless to what was acceptable at the time, she knew he craved more from her before marriage but the most she would allow was a single kiss even though she did truly hold affection for him. Perhaps it was love, or in the least a kind of first puppy love. She did want to be with him, to marry him, as marriage was expected. And when she finally began to grow comfortable, she never got the chance because he was murdered and she had been made to kill his murderers to defend herself against them. The twins had to flee and again she was unsure of people.

When she'd joined the ranks of the her order, she was closed off and again not wanting to share touch with others. Some of this was overridden by her training. Close combat meant contact would happen. When she was hurt others would help her, would heal her or tend to her and she did the same for them. She would grant embraces with others. She came to not fear it but accept it as she formed bonds of trust with the knights and saw them as family. The true test came when she was tested by the knights, when Vlad Dracu.la (also played by everythingheard) was brought to their order and saved from death and she was expected to allow him to feed on her, to form a bond, to see where his nature would truly lie. Would he be like the strigoi before him or be different? By this time, nearly a century within the order behind her, she held no more qualms with touch. She let him feed on her and they formed a close familial type bond. She was very open by that time.

The only one she resisted touch from, raged against it in fact, was Sir Baris. At first he seemed to hate her for the innocence still within her, for the reminder of what he had lost when he had been turned into a strigoi. His dark nature sought to corrupt, felt dangerous and she resisted him even when he invaded her dreams (something he would try to do again when they reunited briefly centuries later during the revoluti.onary war). When they trained, it was brutal and bloody. They blurred the lines of training and brought out something in each other. He gave her blood, more than he should have, when she took a broadsword to her body. It shifted their dynamic even if she hadn't wanted to admit it. It caused her to search for him when she didn't intend it. It caused them to become closer and touch to linger even if she didn't fully understand why. Her dark affinity and his blood called to each other.

When she suffered the loss of her mentor and father figure, she gave in and let him bite her, seeking some form of remedy for the pain she felt so fully within her. But the dark nature of it, of magic and blood mixing clouded reason and left her ability to fully understand or make decisions in relation to them in a dubious grey area that colored both of their choices. She became intimate with him and experienced that kind of touch for the first time. Inexperience and innocence met with anything but. However, it was colored in his violent possessiveness, with blood the central focus over sexual pleasure. It was very much of what she could give him rather than what he could grant her and very much clouded in the euphoria and influence of vampric blood sharing. It brought out a violence in them both and confusion within her as she tried to understand her own conflicting and clouded emotions. How much was blood magic and how much was truth? It took Vlad and Kasper on the outside to break her from it, to see how unhealthy it was. And it was her taking back something she'd lost the moment she'd allowed him to bite her when she'd broken from Baris and he'd left the order for a time.

In the aftermath of this, Katarzyna closed herself off again, untrusting and unsure of her own relationship with intimacy. She resisted touch in basic forms except with children of knights who she would always freely show affection. She did not share blood with another strigoi, now understanding further that the nature of her magic, her affinity, and the rite which had brought her back to life in the past affected the essence of her relationship with the undead, created a strange and dangerous intimacy with it. She needed to be comfortable with herself again before she could allow others in. It took her nearly a century to open herself up again a large amount of her ability to do so centered in her time in China as she came to understand more about herself, her power, and her spirituality under Longwei's guidance. That said she still wasn't fully trusting of people or that they did not seek to hurt her in certain situations. It took a second century before she met someone that she felt compelled to touch or felt an intimate connection with in a deeper way.

Katarzyna hadn't sought romantic love, of which her relationship with Baris could not be called. She hadn't sought friendships or motherhood, or love when she'd ventured to the new world for the Order, forming an alliance which would color her life going forward. But she had found these things all the same. Never had someone brought out such emotions from frustration, anger, affection, protectiveness, desire, love all in equal measure as when she had met Ben (@honorhearted).

Their meeting was filled with misunderstandings and challenges and yet colored with the light of seeing humanity within each other that broke through preconceived notions of what they were, that colored how they viewed each other before they saw what war made them. She saw his care for a child and he saw her gentleness with the same child. He tended to her wounds even when what she was called everything he understood into question and though a fear struck through her, she let him help her. She let him tend to her wound, she trusted him even though she did not understand why. Had they met any other way, perhaps it would have taken longer but something awoke inside her from the moment she met him, raging against all the bad and daring some deeper part of her to claw it's way out; their paths would have always led to each other. She was drawn to him and allowed him into her personal space far more than she allowed others. She craved his touch, she chased it as soon as she had it as if she was waiting for it-- her soul had been.

With Ben, Kasia experienced romantic intimacy for the first time. Her desire for him, her experiences with him were not clouded or tinged with dark intent. While they had shared a small amount of blood as part of a ritual it had only served to awaken further their soul bond, letting them feel what each other felt and not bring forth any false or clouded influences like sharing vampiric blood with Baris had. It was Kasia and Ben sharing something honest filled with genuine love, sharing themselves with each other completely. Her mind, her soul, her whole being sought him with purpose. He was her first choice, the one she truly chose to completely gave herself to; they were equals in that. And in that way, while she had slept with Baris before him, she has always considered Ben to be her true introduction to romantic and sexual intimacy. He was the father of her children. He was the first person she ever sought to marry. His touch, his care for her, his gentleness chased away the pain she'd endured when she had been captured by the Briti.sh. His love and their desire for children is what she was willing to give up her immortality for (even if her years wouldn't run out for centuries). He is her most profound experience of intimacy and trust. And when he died, she held onto her experiences with him close to her heart. He opened her up in a way no one else had, to herself, to the world, to hope and she carried that with her experiencing the world and trusting people in a new way.

However, it was over a century later that found her introduction to James. He seemed on the surface to be a good and caring man. To have hope for the world and seek to help others like Ben had. She resisted his advances at first. She resisting sharing intimacy with him for longer. But eventually he gained her trust and she allowed intimacy with him; it had been so long since she truly let herself feel close in that way with someone. He seemed to want to marry her though something always caused her to resist this. Something lingered within her, a sense of something off. It proved correct when he revealed his true nature as a witch hunter. When he turned on her in brutal fashion, his intimacy with her a source of disgust for him and only 'endured' to gain her trust and seek to use her to find others like her. His order tortured her but it was him do dealt the worst of it. Who burned her awakening the heat she'd known at the stake centuries before. Who brought horror in the intimacy of it.

All the trust and relationships built over centuries were burned away. She closed herself off in the aftermath, after killing his order and him. She trusted her brother, though even with him she would flinch away. While she did not want to admit it, something had shaken within her in a way that could not be denied. She maintained her distance, shied away from touch in all forms unless in battle. She ran from it and old prejudices began to reemerge within her. Less trusting of humans. Less trusting of anyone. She didn't embrace people, even her brother for decades and it took a century before she even allowed her grandchildren regular affection through touch.

Eventually, slowly, very slowly she began to be comfortable enough to allow small forms of intimacy with her black ops team that was formed in recent decades, upon her return to the States (unknowing her desire to return had to do with the call of a soul reborn, Ben returning though she would not meet him for over twenty years). Octavia, her great-child (8th generation) opened her up more, Katarzyna freely giving her affection though Kasia remained resistant to others. Intimacy was shied away from in most cases. Until her path crossed with Ben, or John Bolton as he was called in this life. She'd always trusted him with the most intimate parts of herself, in their past life together and now, though it will take a little time due to her trauma, their last. And, perhaps, her relationship with intimacy can come full circle now, her learning to open herself up again (despite all she's endured) to experience touch and intimacy and love with the innocence of the mortal girl she once was. But this will take time and it's own journey to be told. That said, even though I do see her opening up and being comfortable with touch in a regular way with people she knows, I do not think she will ever be completely comfortable with strangers touching her or being in her personal space.

#this headcanon got looooong oops #headcanons;#dubious consent; tw #severe trauma; tw #ptsd; tw #torture; tw #abuse; tw #apparently today is all about them headcanons

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college-girl199328 · 2 years ago

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Brazil’s worst serial killer, Pedro Rodrigues Filho, wore his intentions proudly in a garish tattoo that read: "Mato por Prazer: I kill for pleasure."

By his own estimate, he butchered at least 100 people, including his father and brother-in-law, who failed to stem this raging killing machine and murdered at least 40 fellow criminals while behind bars.

But last weekend, Matador, who was bizarrely back on the street, was cut down in a hail of bullets outside his Sao Paulo home and said who the killers might be or offered for the Sunday morning murder to cops, a black car approached the serial killer while he was on the porch of his house, and a single gunman shot Matador four times, leaving him dead at the scene.

A relative told local media that the masked killers told her: "It’s nothing to do with you, your daughter, and go inside on the filthy pavement of the killers, who delivered the coup de grace and slit his throat.

Part folk hero, part monster, Matador claims he killed at least 100 times and deeply enjoyed his work life of homicide, which kicked off when he was just 14 and blew the head off the deputy mayor of the town where he grew up after the politician fired his security guard father for allegedly stealing and murdering the man he believed was the true culprit.

Fleeing in Sao Paulo, he engaged in petty crime and met his future fiancee, Maria Aparecida Olympia, who was later brutally murdered by members of a vicious local drug gang.

In revenge, Filho and friends massacred seven and injured 16 others at a wedding organized by the gang’s leader.

Months later, he discovered that his favorite cousin was pregnant, and when the baby’s father refused to marry her, Matador took care of the cad with a bullet.

But the Matador’s father would meet a more grisly end when a seasoned killer discovered his hated father had murdered and dismembered his mother with a machete and revealed that his abusive father had kicked his mother in the stomach while she was pregnant with him in one of their endless domestic fights.

While father and son were imprisoned, The Matador took his revenge for what the old man had done to his mother.

“I arranged a well-thought-out plan, and I turned up at my father’s cell,” Filho said, promising revenge on his mother’s coffin, then proceeded to stab his father 22 times before tearing the old man’s heart out — and biting into it.

"I just chewed it, cut the tip of his heart off, and chewed it, and I threw it on top of his body," he later said without emotion, claiming he never killed innocent murdered rapists, pedophiles, drug traffickers, assassins, and traitors, as he would later put it: "Bad people's motivation, he said, was anger, not bloodlust.

The serial killer first went into prison in 1973, after he had been sentenced to 128 years in prison and had been slated for release in 2003 (a bizarre Brazilian law stated at the time a prisoner could not be held for more than 30 years), but because he murdered 40 fellow convicts while caged, the judiciary kept the killer locked away and his sentence was hiked to 400 years.

Finally, in 2007, after 34 years behind bars, Filho was released from prison and quietly worked as a night watchman, but more recently, he had become an anti-crime crusader and a media personality, and he was arrested again in 2011 for threatening people, illegal possession of weapons, and participation in illegal riots.

Recently, Matador launched a popular YouTube channel where he regaled fans with tales of his sordid criminal past and warned young people against taking up a life of crime, mayhem, and murder, saying he was a charismatic man who was "joyful, casual, and intelligent."

"He fascinated people as a reflection of our society in a country where only 10% of homicides are brought to justice," she told the newspaper Folha de Sao Paulo.

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alwayschoppedtaco · 3 years ago

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hotches daughter ll bau team

Pairing: BAU Team x Hotchner!Reader, mainly Derek Morgan x Hotchner!Reader and Spencer Reid x Hotchner!Reader

Warning: getting questioned by the fbi? is that something that needs a warning? maybe some cursing.

Summary: Prompt Morgan and Reid bring you down to ask you some questions on a recent case, not knowing who your father is.

word count: 1.0k

A/n: I just want to say that I don't think this is very accurate of what would actually happen if this were to happen, I have never been in a position were I would learn how this goes so sorry I don't really know how or if this would happen.

masterlist

The sound of the television playing the morning time news in your dorm room was drowned out by the cell phone in your hand.

"And guess what Y/N/N?" Your little brother asked through the phone.

"What is it Jack?" You ask, smiling even though you know he can see it.

"I was at scho-" The rest of his sentence is interrupted by a knock at your door.

"Hold on Jackie, I need to see who is at the door, okay? I will call you back soon." You explain, standing up from the couch.

"Okay Y/N! Call when you can so I can tell you what happened at school yesterday!" Jack exclaims. "Love you!"

"I love you too, bud." You laugh, hanging up the phone and walking over to greet the people on the other side of the door.

"Can I help you?" You ask as you open the door to two gentlemen standing outside your door.

"Ms. L/N?" The muscular man asks, using your mothers maiden name.

"Yes?" You answer uncertain as to who exactly these men were.

"I'm agent Derek Morgan with the FBI." He states, both of the men flashing there badges at you. "We need you to come with us."

You almost laugh out loud at this. They can't be serious. You didn't have so much as a parking ticket, what could possibly warrant something like this?

"I'm sorry, but can I ask why you need me to come with you?"

"Ma'am, you are being brought down to the station for a questioning involving the deaths of three women in this area." The agent continued.

At this you actually do give a little snort. They honestly think you are connected to the deaths of three women?

"Okay." You say, slipping on your shoes by the door. "I don't know why you think I had anything to do with this, but I'll come down to the station with you, just let me grab my purse and jacket."

The two agents look at you weirdly as you talk so casually about this. A little while later, the three of you are all on your way down to the local police department.

"So, I guess you know my name, but what's yours again?" You ask casually from the backseat of the car.

"I'm doctor Spencer Reid and this is agent Derek Morgan, we are with the Behavior Analysis Unit." The tall skinny one answers, while the muscular one drives quietly.

"Oh, you guys are with the BAU? That's cool. I actually know someone who works within the BAU." You almost laugh at the irony there, your own dad was most likely the superior to these two agents, and here you were, practically getting arrested by them.

"Oh, who?" Spencer asks, actually sounding really interested.

"Oh, you probably wouldn't know him, he isn't that high up in the ranks over there." You giggle, leaning your head up against the cold window.

Soon the three of you arrived at the police station, and you were brought straight into an interrogation room. Sitting casually you waited for someone to come in and ask you about whatever crime they thought you had committed.

Hearing the door open and close, you look up from where you are digging at the metal table with your fingernail to see the muscular agent from before.

"Why exactly am I here?" You ask, a little annoyed at how this morning is going, but overall finding the entire situation ironic.

"Your credit card was used at a hardware store where the murder weapon was bought." Morgan states. "And you happened to buy some pretty suspicious things."

He pulls out a piece of paper and places it in front of you. You let out a little giggle looking over the list. A hammer, duct tape, rope, a shovel, and some plywood. Another ironic situation since you bought all of that for your dad since he was planning on finally fixing a couple things around the house and had asked you to pick them up for him.

“All of that is for home improvement. My dad asked me to pick them up for him since he wants to fix the shelves in my old room, plant some flowers for my stepmother, and he was planning on putting in a tire swing for my younger brother.” You answer honestly after Morgan gives you a look for laughing. “Honestly, you can call him down here if you want.”

At that Morgan offers up a confused look, turning back towards the door. He walks out only for Doctor Reid from before to come in.

“Ms. L/N, you have to understand that these purchases-.” You cut him off before he can finish.

“I don’t go by L/N.” You state simply, picking at a piece of lint on your sweater.

“Then what do you go by?” Spencer asks, a little annoyed at your carefree attitude, you were being interrogated by the FBI for God sake.

“I go by Hotchner normally.” You answer casually, watching his face go from annoyed to confused. “Its my dads last name.”

Spencer files out of the room without saying anything and you are left alone for a bit longer. After about ten minutes your dad walks through the interrogation room doors, followed by the two agents from before.

You smile innocently, looking from your father to the two younger agents behind him.

“Hey dad, I got the things from the hardware store that you needed.” You say casually. “Wish I would have gone to a different hardware store, but oh well.”

Your dad just shakes his head, trying to suppress the smile that makes its way to his lips.

“You can go back home Y/N/N.” Your dad states, prompting you to stand up and make your way over to where him and his agents stand.

“Definitely didn’t think this was how I would meet your team.” You joke trying to break the tension in the tiny room. “It was nice to meet you boys, but I’m going to head up and say hi to Rossi while I’m here. Do you still need me to pick Jack up from school?”

“Uh, yeah if you could.”

You nod your head making your way past the group and towards the elevator, smiling and waving good bye to them as the doors close.

~~~

I am open to doing a part two, just let me know if you would be interested in it.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #spencer reid #derek morgan #garcia #penelope garcia #david rossi #emily prentis #jj jareau #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #alwayschoppedtaco

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twiceasfrustrating · 3 years ago

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I'm sorry if I already requested this of you I honestly have the memory of a walnut. But can I request headcannons of the boys + dia who find out MC has an emotionally abusive husband? Like fluff with some murder maybe?

thank you

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Characters: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)

Additional Tags: abusive relationship mentioned, some are a bit murdery, I don't know how to write fluff for such a situation but I tried

A/N: If you are in an abusive situation in the USA and need to speak to someone, please call 1-800-799-7233. If you cannot call, you can also text “START” to 88788. If it is safe for you, you can also go to the website directly. Abuse takes many forms, but it is always about control.

Feel free to add the numbers/contact for other countries if you have them.

Lucifer

He got upset at MC once and they flinched when he yelled and they started apologizing like there was no tomorrow. That was how he found out something was wrong. They wouldn’t say anything, but he could tell that something was deeply wrong. Perhaps he had never noticed before the formation of their pact how MC shuddered around him whenever he got upset, but now he did.

He is very careful not to yell again and when he does he is quick to lower his voice the second MC shows distress, reassuring them that he is not angry at them and would not harm them. It sounds almost hollow after how he acted when they originally met, but he means it.

There was one time MC dropped a dish on the floor while cooking and it broke, spilling hot food everywhere. They started picking up the pieces in a hurry, not even paying attention to how the hot shards burned and cut up their hands.

Lucifer was quick to pick them up off the ground and tend to the fresh injuries, all while they kept apologizing and saying that they would clean it up as soon as they could and saying they would make something else. Lucifer forbade them from doing either and cleaned the mess himself. He did that a lot. Took care of their ‘mistakes’ and cared for them. They would almost believe he wasn't the same terrifying man they had first met.

It takes a long time for MC to get used to their new relationship with Lucifer and once they do they are far more comfortable and less skittish.

He is not pressuring the story out of them. He can wait, as difficult as it is, for them to open up. However, he is no fool. He knows who is to blame, and that man should be very afraid should Lucifer and he ever meet.

Mammon

MC always spoke so well of their husband when they first met the brothers. Mammon was actually jealous and wished MC would talk about him that way. They would always say how kind their husband was and how he loved them and how he wanted the best for them. It sounded like some kind of cheesy romance novel.

Things started to get weird though when he and MC started to get even closer. He would invite them out, only to hear “I don’t think my husband would like that” or “I shouldn’t be alone with you”. It was weird the first time, but it quickly became a pattern. A very worrying pattern. Mammon knew abuse when he saw it. He was the family butt monkey and a witch punching bag, after all.

The difference is that he’s a fallen angel that is used to such treatment and, as a demon, the things done to him do very little in the long run. Humans are far more fragile though; their minds, bodies, and hearts. And then Mammon started to hate MC’s husband with a passion that could not be matched.

He cared less about making that bastard pay and more about taking care of MC. Such treatment can ruin a person, especially good people like MC. He would do anything to show them that they deserved better than that man, whatever that eventually meant.

Leviathan

He and MC have a little too much in common for his taste. It is actually almost disgusting how little self-worth they seem to have, but he can also see how that was trained into them.

They play down their worth a lot: “It’s nothing”, “It could be better”, “I failed again”, etc. They never say anything positive about themself. They are really good at picking out their flaws, but almost incapable of pointing out their merits.

It goes against everything Levi believes in, but he has to start praising them since they won’t praise themself. He likes hanging out with them, the stuff they make is nice, they are a really quick learner. It feels weird to praise someone, but it’s nice to see MC start to feel a little better about all the things they do.

Although, he also has the mild thought of showing MC’s husband that there are more terrifying things in the world than the horrors a human is capable of. After all, Levi has seen the monsters that dwell in the deep; he is one of those monsters and there is a reason humans fear the darkest depths.

Satan

There are some wonderful upsides to being the avatar of wrath. Normally, Satan wouldn't be so crass as to give into them, but sometimes humanity is just so vile that he can't help himself.

One of those upsides is a mind filled to the brim with the instinctual desire to rip and tear anything he can get his hands on to pieces. It's an instinct he fights off constantly with his centuries of training and self-discovery, but just this once he doesn't mind becoming the beast he was born as.

MC's husband squeals like a stuck pig throughout the entire night, only the winds, spiders, and Satan being able to hear and appreciate the sound. And appreciate it he does, until the screaming stops and his hands are drenched with blood.

He really needs to get himself cleaned off before he sees MC again, otherwise they will be terrified. He needs to look his best when they come running to him worried about their missing husband. It’s sad how much they worry about him despite everything.

Asmodeus

MC was always so calm and docile when he wanted to spend time with them. He didn’t really get it at first but it was easier to dress them up and take them out, so he didn’t question it. At least, not until someone (read: Solomon) not so subtly pointed out that it is unusual for someone to be so passive, almost to the point of being doll-like.

Asmo didn’t believe it at first. How could anyone treat someone as sweet as MC so cruelly, especially someone that is supposed to love them? But from that day onward, his eyes were opened up and he started to notice things.

The way they didn’t put forth their own opinions and let him take the lead on everything, how they stuck close to him when they both went out, the subtle way their fingers reached out then drew back when they liked something.

“Do you like it?” He would ask and their response was “do you?”

It was so difficult to get them to start putting their own wants and desires above what they thought he’d like. When they showed interest in something, he would fawn all over it. If they liked something, he liked it too. He would buy them things they even glanced casually at, told them they were worthwhile and lovely, anything that other man would never say to them.

He tore them down so completely, but Asmo would work tirelessly to build them back up.

Beelzebub

He is the softest man in the world, and sometimes MC just lets things slip out. He’s very easy to open up to and they don’t think about what they say. He was the first person that they opened up to about what was happening to them.

Suffice it to say, Beel was shocked when they mentioned how terrified they were for the exchange program to end. Despite everything that they had been through over the past year, they didn’t want to go back.

Beel had only felt so powerless one other time in his life. He couldn’t go with them to protect them and they couldn’t stay in the Devildom forever to stay safe. It was painfully cruel just how much he couldn’t help them.

All he could do was hold them and listen to them get everything off of their chest, dreading the day that the exchange program would end.

MC has to hurry up and learn how to summon him, because he wants to keep them safe from that awful situation. He would never allow another person it the world to hurt them again.

Belphegor

Belphie likes exactly one human in the three realms and every other one is none of his concern. Or, they wouldn’t be his concern if it weren’t for the fact that the one human he cared about was the victim of this particular instance.

He’s not like some of his other brothers. He doesn’t do comfort and he isn’t the best at torture, prefering to get everything over with quickly so he doesn’t have to expend all the extra energy. But, for such a special occasion, he is more than willing to put in the effort.

Humans really do create their own worst fears. Their minds run a mile a minute and they have the strangest way of finding how their own terrors can overpower what little defenses they have.

He may not be able to touch MC’s husband, but he can certainly return every slight against his favorite human. Long, sleepless nights wracked with unending horrors that only that man can truly appreciate.

All the while, he will gladly hold MC when their own nightmares overtake them, trying to put their mind at ease for just this moment. How he wished that his powers could control the waking world as well as their dreams...

Diavolo

“Don’t go back.” It was the first time Diavolo had brought up the idea. It was one he had been considering for a long time, knowing that it was extreme given that MC was a human and had to live in the human realm. However, he couldn’t live with himself knowing the kind of life MC would return to once they left.

The shouting, the insults, discarding everything MC liked because their husband doesn’t care for it… Diavolo would never feel right knowing he sent someone dear to him back there.

He had the means to help them get literally anywhere but back to that man. Diavolo could help set them free from that life, even if they didn’t want to stay in the Devildom. He knew MC would have the support of everyone they had met.

All they had to do was say yes and he would move the Devildom itself to get them out of there.

#obey me #dark fic #mine #request #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #swd obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #headcanon #obey me headcanons

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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Prompt - Nie Mingjue's temper is already not great at the Phoenix hunt, so when they haul out men and women, some who look a great deal more like frightened peasants than cultivators he snaps, this is not how you treat POWs, it turns into a riot/battle and Jiang Cheng has had enough of kowtowing to the Jin and he and the new Jiang sect members and Wei Wuxian all rally to Nie Mingjue, does anyone else? Where to the Lan fall? Was nie mingjue's snap directly at jgy or more in general?

ao3

Nie Mingjue was, probably for the first time in his life, tired of fighting.

He’d fought in secret against the Wen sect for years, thanklessly defending the other sects that had refused to even acknowledge Wen Ruohan’s actions for years on end, and yet it had not prepared him for the brutality that was open warfare, for the difficulty of being the general of the entire Sunshot Campaign, for the burden of knowing that so many lives depended on him and him alone. He’d fought battle after battle, won tremendous victories, and yet the last hope had seemed out of reach – he’d eventually resorted to a desperate stratagem that had gone wrong – he had been tortured, mocked, his men killed – and at the moment of when all seemed lost, he was saved.

Saved…only to realize that it was Meng Yao being credited with it, with being their spy, and Lan Xichen had not told him.

He’d limped back to his camp, but they’d chased after him, and the news of what Meng Yao had done got out – not really a surprise; given the man’s ambitions, if someone else hadn’t spread it he would have done it himself – and in the end, politics had meant that there really hadn’t been much of a choice about swearing sworn brotherhood with the two of them, binding them together in life and death, not unless he wanted to risk another war.

Nie Mingjue very, very much did not want another war.

He had still not fully recovered from his injuries by the time the Jin sect had set up a celebration in the Nightless City, with Jin Guangshan using Nie Mingjue’s refusal to take on any of Wen Ruohan’s ridiculous trappings as an excuse to all but name himself Chief Cultivator in the man’s place. Nie Mingjue knew he should have protested then, but he was tired, his sect in need of rebuilding – they had been the ones bearing the brunt of the war, as they always had, and the only reason they were not the worst off of the Great Sects was because of what the Wens had done to the Cloud Recesses and the Lotus Pier – and he’d never really wanted personal advancement, anyway.

After what had happened with his father, he’d had a lifetime’s worth of being promoted.

Besides, as part and parcel of their self-granted promotion, the Jin sect had promised to take care of the worst of the clean-up, including dealing with the prisoners of war, and that had seemed fine, even a good result. After spending half his life doing things for other people, Nie Mingjue would return home to focus on that which matter most to him, and for once someone else would take the lead in caring for the rest of the world.

It wasn’t like the Jin sect couldn’t afford a few more mouths to feed.

It wasn’t like their coffers were anywhere near empty, or that they needed to rebuild; it wasn’t as though they’d ever stopped trade with Qishan or actually led in a major battle or - he should stop thinking about it before he became angry.

He’d been angry for so long. It would be nice to stop for a while.

Of course, it felt as though he’d barely settled in back at home before he was being summoned for yet another celebration hosted by the Jin sect, this time at Phoenix Mountain. A hunt, no less, and it was so pointedly designed as the sort of thing that the Nie sect favored that it would have been impossible to turn down the invitation. Not to mention, the invitation had oh-so-casually mentioned that Jin Guangyao, his sworn brother, would be the one in charge of setting up the hunt, meaning that any disruption or failure cause damage not only to his own reputation but to Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen’s, for having sworn with him.

Jin Guangshan would either have his day in the sun or a reason to tear everyone else down - a win-win situation for him, lose-lose for everyone else.

Fucking politics.

Still, there wasn’t anything for it. They had to go, so they went.

Nie Mingjue felt himself drifting back into that disconnected state that had allowed him to survive years of discussion conferences hosted by his father’s murderer. It was a strange sort of state, that allowed him to do the things he had to do to support his sect while feeling as though the world was separated from him by a window through which he watched everything happen. Anything that occurred beyond that window – all sounds and sights and even emotional reactions – was dulled or even muted; he could look Wen Ruohan right in the eye and think to himself of how much he longed to slaughter the man where he stood for his crimes, look at Jiang Fengmian smiling quite sincerely at Wen Ruohan and Lan Qiren bowing to him as if he was a man worthy of respect, as if they weren’t hypocrites that took Wen Ruohan’s money in trade and said apologetically that there wasn’t anything anyone could prove about Nie Mingjue’s father’s death, and yet, no matter how much he hated them all, his body would do nothing.

He would drink tea, and nod, and he would not breach etiquette, he would not bring war down on his sect’s head, he would do nothing.

Sitting in a place of honor at Phoenix Mountain felt much the same: yet another burden to bear, a torment that he could only hope passed quickly.

(It wasn’t healthy, but then again, what was? His entire life was grist for the mill that was his sect’s well-being, shortened by excessive cultivation and stress and endless rage, and knowing it didn’t change anything.)

He saw in the corner of his eye the way his little brother’s eyes flickered to him and then frown – he’d never liked it when Nie Mingjue went quiet and passive, knowing how alien the feeling was to him, knowing through fellow-feeling what it felt like, though perhaps he was wondering why the state had come upon him now again when Wen Ruohan was already dead and gone, even though it had never really just been about Wen Ruohan.

Perhaps because of that fellow-feeling, Nie Huaisang found a conversational interlude hat allowed him to slide over a little closer than politeness dictated, casually putting a hand on Nie Mingjue’s arm as if to beg for something. He knew that Nie Mingjue took comfort in the touch, in the reminder that with his saber at his side and his brother within arms’ reach, Nie Mingjue felt as thought he had everything he valued most in this rotten world close enough that he could try to protect it.

And then the Jin sect – using Jin Guangyao as their mouthpiece, though whether it was because of his skillful silver tongue or simply because they didn’t think he was worth anything more than that, only he would know – announced that they would kick off the hunt with some entertainment.

Nie Mingjue lifted his cup of tea to his lips, feeling pained, and his eyes briefly met with Lan Qiren’s across the hall, no longer in the place of the sect leader but slightly behind, his expression making clear that the same thought was on both their minds – anything but the prostitutes again.

(Surely Jin Guangyao had a bit more self-respect than that…?)

When a bunch of people in chains were marched out, Nie Mingjue had only enough presence of mind to be briefly relieved that the presence of mixed genders meant that they were probably not prostitutes – Lanling Jin abided by rules relating to birth gender and sexuality that seemed nearly as strict as the rules they were always criticizing Gusu Lan over, and according to them no one ever switched or was misaligned or deviated at all, which frankly seemed more than a little bizarre and unbelievable – and then uncomfortable because, well, they were in chains. Weren’t they supposed to be done with war?

And then Jin Guangyao started announcing the rules of some sort of ridiculous archery contest that the younger generation would engage in, and for a moment that seemed almost a relief as well – as a sect leader, Nie Mingjue was excluded from the younger generation despite being only a few years older than the rest of them, and of course there was no point in expecting his brother to participate in any competition of martial skill, and so for a moment it seemed as though this could be another part of this torturous endless experience that he could just tune out.

Indeed, that he was obligated to tune out. No matter how idiotic it was, whatever it was, whatever he thought about it (and he wouldn’t like it, he knew he wouldn’t like it, he’d never liked anything Wen Ruohan – no, that Jin Guangshan, insofar as there was that much of a difference – he’d never liked anything Jin Guangshan had set up in nearly ten years of working together, and odds were good that he wouldn’t like this), Nie Mingjue still had to think first of his sect and the consequences of making a fuss, and that meant he didn’t. He didn’t want a war, and so he had to be polite, restrained, quiet, no matter what he thought.

It wasn’t that hard to simply pull back even further. Nie Mingjue had been suppressing righteousness in favor of etiquette at these horrible conferences for such a long time that it came naturally to him, the way all bad habits did.

Only this time he’d brought Nie Huaisang with him, which he’d always resisted before, and his brother’s hand tightened on his arm to the point of pain.

Nie Mingjue’s first thought, stupidly enough, was to be pleased by the discovery that Nie Huaisang actually had some arm muscle underneath all those prissy frills he favored. His second was concern that Nie Huaisang had suddenly taken ill – with admittedly a bit of hopefulness that perhaps it would be something they could use as an excuse to leave early, as long as it wasn’t that serious – but when he turned to look at him his brother didn’t seem sick.

He seemed – angry?

Not Huaisang, Nie Mingjue thought, heart abruptly seized with an ancient fear. He knew perfectly well what he’d gotten himself into when it came to the saber spirits, had accepted years ago that he would die young, die early, die horribly and alone with nothing but his rage, but that was not going to be Nie Huaisang’s fate, not if he had anything to say about it.

The fear curdled in his chest, and it felt as though a crack appeared on the window that shielded him from all sensation, all pain and desperation forced far away.

No one was talking, other than Jin Guangyao droning on and on about whatever the new entertainment was – Nie Mingjue had stopped paying attention long ago – and so he couldn’t ask Nie Huaisang what was wrong, but he looked at him and furrowed his brow, trying to convey the question silence.

Nie Huaisang caught the glance and understood, and his mouth moved, shaping silent sounds – it’s an execution, they’re going to kill them –

What?

Baxia, lying by his side as she always did during these meetings, shifted a little, her rage nudging against Nie Mingjue’s mind as it always did – sometimes he thought she hated these meetings as much as he did, other times he was sure of it – and the crack in the window got a little wider, let in a little more light and color and sound, and Nie Mingjue found a thread of willpower to force himself to listen to what the entertainment Jin Guangyao was proposing actually was.

He replayed the words in his mind, turned to look at the people in chains – Wen sect, apparently, and though he couldn’t tell on sight whether they were civilians or cultivators, that didn’t matter. Not even criminals were executed like this, by standing at a distance and waiting to die, not even able to hope for an expert aiming to kill quickly and cleanly, but through a misplaced arrow that could strike them anywhere, cause them a lingering and painful death…this was supposed to be a game?

This was meant to be their entertainment?

The window between Nie Mingjue and the world shattered.

And suddenly all he felt was rage.

“What,” Nie Mingjue said, even as Jin Zixuan got up with a set expression on his face to accept a bow from his servant, “are you doing?”

Jin Zixuan paused, looking puzzled – and no surprise, since Nie Mingjue hadn’t said anything beyond the most mundane greetings when he first arrived. “Sect Leader Nie..?”

Nie Mingjue rose to his feet, his brother’s hand falling off of his arm as if he’d shaken him off like a dog. “What are you doing?” he demanded, louder this time. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Da-ge –” Jin Guangyao said, an obvious hint, a reminder of their relationship – Nie Mingjue was the one bound by it, the older brother responsible for setting a good example, and for all that Jin Guangyao was supposed to listen to him and follow his lead Nie Mingjue had never seen a hint that he’d ever planned to do so – but Nie Mingjue didn’t listen to him.

He was angry.

It felt good to be angry – a clean anger, a righteous anger, anger at injustice being perpetrated right before his eyes.

(Something so poisonous as rage shouldn’t feel this good.)

“This is an abomination,” he said, a touch of the battlefield in his voice so that it would be audible throughout the hall, would spread far and wide for all to hear. “Those are people you’re putting on the line.”

There was a moment of awkward silence.

Jin Zixun, Jin Guangshan’s nephew, broke it with an abrupt laugh. “Sect Leader Nie,” he said, pretending to smile, “surely you don’t think so little of us to suggest that my cousin would miss –”

“I don’t care even if he does strike true,” Nie Mingjue snapped. “You do not play with the lives of men.”

“Hardly men,” a minor sect leader, closely affiliated with the Jin sect, said. Sect Leader Qin, if Nie Mingjue placed him right. “Perhaps you did not hear, Chifeng-zun –” It was always his title they used when they wanted to avoid calling him sect leader, when they were trying to make a point about how young and angry and foolish they thought he was. “– but those are Wen-dogs.”

“I don’t care who or what they are,” Nie Mingjue shouted, and now he had fallen back into his body, back into the battlefield, because this was a battlefield; it was only that he had allowed himself – through tiredness or shock or a desire for peace – to forget it for a moment. “Is this not a celebration of peace, the end of war? If they are criminals, sentence them; if they are condemned, execute them with a sword. Even a rabid beast deserves to be put down cleanly, not to be used as target practice by children for the entertainment of others!”

There was movement in the crowd, multiple people shifting from one side to the other, the audience abruptly uncomfortable when faced not only with a gory spectacle but their own complicity in it.

“Sect Leader Nie, calm yourself,” Jin Guangshan said. His voice was stern, irritatingly condescending – as if he thought that styling himself as Chief Cultivator gave him the right to act as if he were Nie Mingjue’s father. “You go too far for proper etiquette; will you not give any face to me, as your host? Naturally, if you have a complaint, I will hear it –”

“I don’t recall the moment I yielded to your authority in matters of ethics, Sect Leader Jin,” Nie Mingjue snapped. “Please, feel free to remind me – the last I recall it, you were the one begging me for assistance.”

“Sect Leader Nie!” Jin Guangshan shouted, rising to his feet with his face starting to purple.

Nie Mingjue saw the furious glance he sent at a frantic Jin Guangyao – control him already! – and it makes his own rage surge even higher. It was not that he didn’t know that his sworn brother was being used as leverage against him, but to have it shoved right into his face like that, to think that they thought that etiquette and brotherhood would be sufficient to make him complaisant – to allow Jin Guangyao to run roughshod over his morality – to think that it had nearly worked –

“Sect Leaders, please.” That was Lan Xichen, standing up as well, his hands outstretched. “Is this not meant to be a celebration of peace?”

For a moment, Nie Mingjue thought he was standing up for his sake, supporting him in decrying what was happening in front of them – something he despised as much as Nie Mingjue did, that much was obvious from his stance – but then his eyes flicked from Nie Mingjue to Jin Guangyao as well, silently beseeching Nie Mingjue to remember how his actions could hurt Jin Guangyao’s standing, and Nie Mingjue felt cold.

So much for brotherhood, it seemed. How much was he supposed to bear on behalf of Jin Guangyao without receiving anything in return?

He turned his face away.

If the Nie sect had to make this stand alone, so be it. Even if it meant war, war against the rest of the cultivation world, war that would be ruinous to his sect...

There was no choice. The Nie sect stood for refusing to tolerate evil; to do any less would be to throw off the traditions of his ancestors more wholly than Nie Huaisang’s refusal to train the saber had ever been. Even on a personal level, he had long criticized others who stood quiet when evil was happening, and he would not let himself become the hypocrite that so many others had been.

Nie Mingjue had never before willingly backed away from doing the right thing, the righteous thing, simply because it was hard to do – he would not start now.

“It seems strange that a celebration of peace would begin with death.” That was Jiang Cheng standing up as well, the fourth of the Great Sects. His sister had once been engaged to Jin Zixuan, and she had been invited to the hunt as Madame Jin’s special guest – popular thought had it that the Jin sect would snap her up soon enough, allying with the last remaining sect, and leaving anyone who opposed them to stand alone. But even if that was the plan, it hadn’t happened yet, and Jiang Cheng was putting his voice on Nie Mingjue’s side – Nie Mingjue would have to find a way to repay him for his support later. “Weren’t the Wen sect supposed to be resettled somewhere peaceful? Or was the news I received incorrect?”

“The innocent branch members and civilians were of course resettled,” Jin Guangyao said, and his smile was strained – or was it? Was it actual concern, or some sort of show? Nie Mingjue could never tell with him, not now that he knew how easily the snake changed its skin. “These however are war criminals, sentenced to execution in the manner of our choosing. I hope you all understand: their deaths are in no way comparable to their crimes –”

You would know, having participated in so many of them, Nie Mingjue thought, and levelled a glare at his youngest sworn brother to remind him of that fact. It briefly interrupted the smooth flow of words, making them catch in Jin Guangyao’s throat; at least he had that much shame.

“Can I see?” Nie Huaisang asked in the brief interval, his high voice just as carrying as Nie Mingjue’s shouting – all those music and singing lessons had clearly been worth something.

“See what?” Jin Zixun sneered, stepping forward – and interesting that it was him that did so, while Jin Zixuan, the heir, remained still and silent. His expression was frosty, but he hadn’t yet spoken up in his own father’s defense; hardly filial, but given such a father it was difficult to see what else he could do. “See their crimes? Do you want a list, or for us to drag out their victims to testify? Is this how little your Nie sect thinks of our Jin sect?”

A strong effort on Jin Zixun’s part – it put the burden on them to prove that these were not evildoers and criminals who deserved what was coming to them, made the issue their rudeness and lack of etiquette, made it seem as if they were the ones looking down on everyone.

But for all that Nie Mingjue despaired of Nie Huaisang’s skill at arms, he had never doubted his skill with words.

“You misunderstand me,” Nie Huaisang laughed nervously, hiding his face behind his fan in a gesture of shyness – he made it look as though he were being bullied by Jin Zixun, rather than debating him. “I just meant, well, they’re criminals, right? They must be truly impressive cultivators to fight against the brave soldiers of our Sunshot Campaign…could we see their strength?”

Nie Mingjue knew a cue when he heard one. “Such strength must be considerable to deserve such a fate,” he said scornfully. “Even Wen Ruohan, who killed hundreds, was merely cut down, rather than tormented in the same manner he tortured so many of our cultivators…Or do you think to emulate him in this manner as well?”

“How dare you?!” Jin Guangshan was florid with rage – as if rage would ever stop a Nie. “You come to my home and accuse me with no basis –”

“I do accuse you!” Nie Mingjue shouted, letting his voice trample down Jin Guangshan’s. “But by your own acts you are condemned, by your own callousness and indifference. So much Nie blood was shed to stop Wen Ruohan from running rampant over us all – I would die rather than have spent that blood to buy us nothing more than the same dominion in a different color!”

And then everyone was talking at once, shouting, yelling, and Nie Mingjue took the opportunity to turn on his heel and stride over to Lan Xichen, standing there looking lost. Lan Wangji was beside him, only a step behind, and he caught Nie Mingjue’s eyes as he came over and nodded – he, at least, was with Nie Mingjue in this, and his support gave Nie Mingjue more confidence in what he was about to do. What he had to do.

“Will you abide by your Lan sect’s values and stand with me in this?” he asked Lan Xichen in a low, clipped tone. “Or was my oath of brotherhood only worth the benefits it could get for Meng Yao?”

“Da-ge!” Lan Xichen exclaimed, looking horrified. “Don’t think that, please. Of course I stand with you in this – what they were planning for the Wen sect members goes beyond bad taste and into the horrific.”

He hadn’t meant it the way Nie Mingjue had taken it, then. It must have only been Jin Guangyao’s pleading looks that had led him to take a stand the wrong way, seeking peace and friendship over justice.

“One should not look away from righteousness simply because it would be easier,” Lan Wangji added smoothly, sounding almost as though he were agreeing with his brother and not subtly scolding him. He saluted Nie Mingjue. “You have our full support, regardless of who is on the other side.”

Nie Mingjue continued to look at Lan Xichen who hesitated – no doubt thinking of the tough position they’d just put Jin Guangyao into – but in the end he nodded.

That was fine. Okay, no, it wasn’t fine, but right now he needed Lan Xichen’s support, regardless of his level of enthusiasm; the rest could be dealt with later.

He turned again and went to Jiang Cheng – Wei Wuxian was there as well, having appeared at some point, and he was vociferously yelling at some minor sect leaders. In Nie Mingjue’s favor, at least.

“Sect Leader Nie,” Wei Wuxian said, turning to him before Nie Mingjue could say anything to Jiang Cheng – not that he really need to confirm his support, given the public display from earlier, but it was only polite to come convey his thanks. “There’s something else you should know. I’ve heard some things about the innocent members Wen sect that were supposedly ‘resettled’ – and what’s been happening to them…”

Nie Mingjue glanced at Jin Guangshan, still shouting, and did a quick calculation. “Take Lan Wangji and go check it out at once,” he ordered. “They were supposed to be resettled by the Qiongqi Path. If Sect Leader Jin has been treating these ones so cruelly as this…I’m willing to believe anything right now. But whatever it is, make sure it’s both of you that see it with your own eyes, to make it harder to doubt your words.”

Wei Wuxian saluted him and headed towards Lan Wangji without even seeking approval from his sect leader. Nie Mingjue abruptly felt awkward and looked at Jiang Cheng, but the other man nodded his agreement before he could apologize for commandeering Wei Wuxian as if the other man was still his subordinate.

“At least he listens to you,” Jiang Cheng said, a rueful smile on this face. “Can I convince you to talk some sense into him when all this is done..? I must admit I wasn’t expecting another war so soon.”

“I had hoped we wouldn’t see one for another generation,” Nie Mingjue admitted. “I still hope we can avoid it – it depends on how the smaller sects fall out, and how determined the Jin sect is to dominate the rest, rather than willing to accept equality. But no matter how it goes, we can’t turn our faces away from injustice.”

“Agreed,” Jiang Cheng said with a sigh. “I think we have the better of the argument, and hopefully it sways the rest of them. But have you considered what happens if we win?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sect Leader Jin has been setting himself up as Chief Cultivator. After something like this, even if there’s no actual fighting, that’ll be impossible. You need respect to lead. So who will it be?”

Nie Mingjue experienced a brief moment of horror at the thought of having to take it himself – but no. It was a reasonable solution, of course, but it would also taint the whole thing. It would make his decision to stand up into a tawdry political play, designed to increase his power, rather than a genuine outburst of offended principle.

He might have proposed Lan Xichen as a compromise – he would have, even a shichen earlier. But after that display of weakness from earlier, however brief, he feared that it would somehow end up with Jin Guangyao (and Jin Guangshan behind him) pulling the strings from behind the scenes, using Lan virtue as a cover for their iniquity…no, that wouldn’t do at all.

The only other option was –

Well.

Nie Mingjue had thought to himself that he needed to do something to pay Jiang Cheng back for his support earlier, hadn’t he?

(And at worst, he’d owe him yet another favor.)

Nie Mingjue put his hand on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. “You have my full support,” he said solemnly, and ignored the sudden look of panic on Jiang Cheng’s face. “Think it over before you say no.”

Being Chief Cultivator would do more to restore the Jiang sect to prosperity than anything else Jiang Cheng might do, and he’d put that together himself sooner or later even if the idea of that much responsibility had to be fairly terrible. But before they could decide things like that, they needed to win.

One more fight.

He could do that much.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #lan xichen #jin guangshan #lan wangji #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #my fic #my fics #roseunspindle #spectacle

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years ago

Text

Canary, Part 6

First

Tim had been watching her out of the corner of his eyes for a long time. It wasn’t that he was trying to be creepy or anything, he just… didn’t know why she was there. It didn’t make sense. She was relatively low on funds according to what he and Oracle had dredged up, and even Tim in all his billionaire-ness recognized that this place was more expensive than average…

So, why had she come? It wasn’t even close to the motel she was staying at.

The vaguely paranoid -- cautious, he was cautious -- part of him worried that she had somehow known he was there, but there was no way she should have been able to know that. Hell, he hadn’t known he was going to this particular cafe until he’d gotten to work and realized that there were now cameras in the breakroom and his office to make sure he didn’t drink too much.

But, really, it seemed like she was just using the free wifi that the cafe provided to write up a resume.

He relaxed and sunk back in his chair with his laptop while he did his work.

… he didn’t get to work for long.

He picked up on the slight gravel of someone putting on a voice with ease. It was high and sweet, a voice he commonly heard from customer service workers. He chanced a look back at the barista and frowned when he saw her on her phone. Not her, then.

He looked around the tiny coffee shop and cringed a little when he realized what was going on. Shady guy approaches a woman who’s drinking coffee alone? Yeah, that’s never a good thing.

He pushed his laptop into his bag quickly, slung it over his shoulders, put the cap back on his coffee cup so the guy wouldn’t be able to tell that Tim had been there for a while, and rushed over.

He rested his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Hey, bud, she said no.”

Tim watched both of them tense and their gazes were pulled to him in an instant.

Marinette glanced him up and down once. He watched her eyes lock onto his coffee cup for a second and he carefully turned his hand a little so she could see the name.

She smiled. “You’re late, Timmy. Don’t tell me you got caught up in another meeting?”

He shrugged innocently. “You know how it is.” Then, he split into a grin. “Maybe I should be the one that’s upset, though. Can’t believe you didn’t save me a spot.”

“I tried!” She whined. “He insisted!”

The man chuckled awkwardly. “I see. I’m sorry, I thought you were alone.”

She rolled her eyes. “I told you I wasn’t. Can you move, though?”

“Actually,” Tim said, because he didn’t want to sit in the window where Duke might happen to see him while on patrols. “There’s a free table back this way.”

Marinette tipped her head to the side a little before nodding. “Sure.”

She closed her laptop with a snap, gathered her things into her bag, and followed him back to his table.

That should have been the end of it. Unfortunately, the guy was still watching them. It looked like they weren’t going to be able to do work for a while if they wanted to keep up the pretense that they were friends.

She seemed to know it, too, because she sighed and rested her head on her hand with a small frown. “Guess we have to talk.”

He huffed. “Don’t have to sound so upset about it.”

“Alright. Fine.”

“Not sounding much more excited.”

She rolled her eyes and then brought a bright smile to her face. “Sure, Timmy, sounds great! Can’t wait to have a super fun conversation with you!”

“... nevermind. That’s weird. Why did that almost convince me? I knew it was fake.”

She let herself lean back in her chair, her face falling back to a slightly smug grin. “I’m Parisian,” she said simply.

Yeah. That made sense. Every Parisian Tim had had the (dis?)pleasure of meeting had had an almost unnerving amount of control over the way they presented their emotions.

He snickered. “Why the hell would you move here, then?”

She rolled her eyes. “Our psychopath was so boring. Like, dude, we get it, your wife died or whatever, that sounds like a you problem. Now, a guy deciding to become a jewel thief purely for the gimmick? Way more interesting.”

“Moral grayness is so twenty years ago,” Tim joked.

“Exactly! Give me dumbasses who are evil purely to be evil and good to be good!”

He grinned. “I can see why you like Harry Potter.”

She blinked.

He motioned to her cup. Scrawled across it in the barista’s messy handwriting was ‘He Who Must Not Be Named’.

She relaxed a little, grinning. “I just finished the books so I’m a bit obsessed. Also, every time I tell them that my name is Marinette they misspell it.”

“Don’t feel too bad, baristas are just like that. Heck, they’ve misspelled my name before.”

“... your name is Tim.”

“They spelled it with a y.”

“... why?”

“Yes. Exactly. A y.”

She giggled a little. “No, I mean why would they do that?”

“Oh. No clue. I hope they were just messing with me.”

The barista was wiping down the tables. It was nearing closing time and Marinette was feeling more and more sorry for the poor workers the longer they stayed. She knew that, when she had used to work at the bakery, she had always especially hated customers that were there around closing time.

Only two tables remained occupied.

She sighed when she glanced over and saw the guy was still there.

Oh well.

She looked over at Tim. “Care to walk me a few blocks in a random direction to see if we can get rid of him?”

“Certainly,” he said.

“‘Certainly’? I may not be super great with American customs yet but even I know that’s weird,” she teased.

He huffed a little. “Listen.”

“I’m listening.”

His nose scrunched. “No, wait, you weren’t supposed to call me out on the fact that I didn’t have an excuse.”

“Oh. Okay, we can try again.”

“Alright.” He cleared his throat. “Listen,” he said again, this time in a tone that mocked the one he’d said it in the first time.

Convenient. She was intent on mocking him, too: “I’m listening.”

“You’re the worst,” he complained.

She laughed. “I am so not. Joker exists.”

“You’re worse than him,” he said in his most serious voice.

She laughed harder. “No one is worse than him.”

He grinned. “I thought you liked people that were evil purely for being evil.”

“But he’s not,” she argued. “The man just decided one day that he liked the weird guy who dressed like a bat and figured that the best way to get that guy’s attention was to murder people.”

“Gotta admit, it works,” said Tim.

She shrugged, grinning. “Yeah, it does. Makes me wonder what would happen if the Big Bad Bat didn’t come, though.”

He tipped his head to the side slightly and then shrugged. “I don’t know, actually. He usually stops it in time.”

“I think he’d freak out.”

“Absolutely.”

She grinned and stretched lazily, head tipping back.

“He’s still following us, isn’t he?” Asked Tim.

“Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p’.

He groaned a little. “Great. Looks like we’re heading to the library.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You go to libraries? You could probably buy every ebook in existence and have a few billion left over.”

“One of my sisters works there, I can ask her to get rid of the guy,” he explained. “But I like libraries. There’s something quaint about them.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s nice to see how the common folk live sometimes.”

He returned her eye roll. “Not like that. I spend a lot of time staring at screens, I have a special appreciation for regular old books.”

“That’s nice. I wish I had time to sit down with a physical copy like that.”

“You see, I have this genius strategy for making time: not taking care of myself.”

“Go on, this is intriguing.”

“Well, eating and sleeping, right? Everyone thinks they’re totally necessary things otherwise you’d die or whatever. But, listen, that’s just a hoax made up by the government to perpetuate capitalism.”

She nodded eagerly. “Totally totally totally. What’s your solution?”

“Coffee communism.”

“Yes, you should use your rich boy money to lobby Congress.”

He grinned. “I totally should. But I can’t run it by my family.”

“No way! You never know who's capitalist anymore, they could be plants placed by the sleep industry to ensure that you don’t go through with it.”

He gasped. “No! You think? My own family?!”

She nodded grimly. “It’s always the ones closest to you that betray you.”

And then he broke character, snickering behind his hand. She beamed.

They reached the library and he smiled as he held the door open for her. He asked her to wait while he talked to his sister and she waved him off casually, telling him to take his time.

She pulled out her phone and pressed her lips together thinly as she made a note to head over later that night to give the man -- Henry -- his money. She’d give him a little tip because, for a moment there, she’d almost forgotten that they were just acting. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to purposely trigger herself for the sake of believability but, hey, if she was going to try and dupe one of the smartest businessmen alive into talking to her, she needed to go all out.

Speaking of Tim, she updated the file of Tim’s favorite cafes plus the probabilities of him visiting each one. It was for his oldest brother, Richie Wayne. She didn’t know why Richie was the one to ask for it seeing as he spent most of his time in Bludhaven and therefore likely wouldn’t find much use in it, but no one ever really knew why Richie Wayne did anything. The man famously had almost as much cotton between his ears as his father.

But, Richie Wayne was also just as rich as his father, so… she’d give him his file later that night after checking her math with her favorite graphing calculator.

A redhead in a wheelchair rolled past Marinette and she absently held the door open for her, only to be surprised when she cursed out Henry.

She watched as Henry held his hands up and started backing away from the woman in the wheelchair, and then he ran down the nearest alley.

(… she’d give Henry a bigger tip. The man had just wanted a tiny side job to help pay for his wife and kids that wasn’t being a henchman, he didn’t deserve this.)

She opened the door for the woman on her way back inside and mumbled her thanks. The woman nodded once and continued on her way.

Marinette leaned back against the wall again and scrolled through Twitter as she waited for Tim to reappear. Apparently, Poison Ivy was already back in Arkham. Something about an intern at the botanical gardens watering plants wrong. Wild.

Marinette felt someone sidle up beside her and, after a quick glance confirmed that it was Tim, pocketed her phone.

He smiled at her, a tote bag over his shoulder.

“Did you go grocery shopping while I wasn’t looking, somehow?”

He hesitated before holding it out to her. “It’s the French dubs of the Harry Potter movies.”

She blinked as the bag was thrust into her hands and looked down at it. Yep, that was Harry Potter in French. She also, vaguely, noted the tiny slip of paper his phone number scrawled across it.

She slung the bag over her shoulder.

“I’m never going to return these. You’re going to rack up so much debt.”

~~~

NightwingsAss9384: does anyone know why nightwing and canary hate each other?

ScareCrane: She stabbed Batman once on accident and somehow got away with blaming it on him

Daylightwing: She refuses to let B adopt her.

RiddleMeThis: They think it’s funny when their stans fight.

SignalOfficial: They said ‘I’m the only flippy bitch allowed in New Jersey’ and have been fighting ever since

Yummmmmm: He has to or else Robin will get jealous because he’s the only stabby sibling allowed

Oracle: They’re fighting over who gets to change their name to ‘The Dodo’ first.

DeadHood: Nightwing is jealous that Canary was the first one of us to think to have a full-on bird mask.

TheBetterCanary: every time i go into the batfam tag to try and avoid them all i see is his fancams

SpoilerAlert: they’re both convinced that they’re the hottest bachelor/bachelorette in gotham

NightwingsAss9384: im beginning to think no ones going to tell me.

BlackBat: :)

~~~~~

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Canary taglist: @jayjayspixiepop @unoriginalmess @miraculousfanfic127 @probably-a-hologram @iloontjeboontje

#if i did a kofi would anyone donate #probably not #canary #maribat #timmari #timari #timinette #shutterbug #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years ago

Text

It’s The Avengers (03x16)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 16: You Picked the Wrong Weakness

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline �� Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: did someone just go and tell the otp about the otp?

Word Count: you know that feeling when you have had a bad experience on some project or assignment or homework before. And you know that thing is going to come around again next month or something like that. And you just age yourself by giving yourself anxiety by thinking everything that could go worse in that area. Yeah. So, I kinda shut that off for a few hours and wrote this.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The Interview Room The camera is recording empty seats as a pair of voices grow louder with every second. "...it's like they don't even care about what the other person wants!" "...no, why would they. These rich daddies and their rich egos think they are the only ones thinking about the world." The camera swivels a bit to watch Peter and Scott enter with a new guest following them with a Caprisun in their hand. Peter: And why did you have to go ahead and help them? Shuri: *sits between Scott and Peter* *takes a long sip of her 'sun* What. I'm not going to give up any opportunity that involves space and weird energy boxes. Peter: Why did your brother even agree to it?? Shuri: *shrugs* all your sugar daddy had to say was 'what if it was Shuri'. And my thicc-head of a brother lost it like a rhino in a mating challenge. Peter: *scrunches his nose at the example* Scott: Great *sigh* now we'll never get to see them together. With your brains, those dads are probably already in space now. Shuri: Not so fast! They don't have the codes to neutralise the pandora's box yet. Peter and Scott: *look at each other* Shuri: So teleportation might be delayed as long as I am kept happy? Peter: *takes out a notebook* Scott: *takes out his phone and a card labelled Avengers Black Card* The camera pans in on a smirking Shuri sipping on her Capri sun.

Inside a Spaceship: Destination Unknown You and Loki were captured by the little drone flying at the same speed as the spaceship (which clearly had seen some remodelling, thanks to your rainbow buddies). Both of you were staring at something in front of you that lids by your waist level- something the outside drone was not able to capture because of the limited view in the spaceship window. The expressions on your face were serious. So was the arms-crossed stance. "Are you sure it wasn't just a noise?" Loki now had a finger on his lips in deep thought as he heard your words. "I am pretty sure of what I heard," he acknowledged without missing a beat. "So-" your voice faded as your fingers twirled in the air with a mind of their own- "that means he has...another..." "You really can't say it?" Loki looked at you with a questioning brow going up quite smoothly. You tsked. "It's my baby," you mentioned while Javier's camera watched you point down at slumbering Lulu. "I cannot just casually say he might have another hole and I think he farted through it. I cannot hurt my baby's feelings!" Loki scoffed. "Your baby's sleeping." "He still has ears." "You think he understands what a fart means?" "What do you think I've been teaching him when you, me or Javi pass the gas?" Loki's casual demeanour suddenly changed to an offended one. "I beg your pardon?" You were quick on your feet, already walking towards the front of the ship. "So, where exactly are we heading now? Aellae's next of kin? Though I find it hard to imagine she would have left your essence with anyone other than herself." Loki came and sat next to you, still pissed at that comment in those narrowed eyes. "I am going to circle back to your words-" he inhaled while you acted all innocent- "and no. We are not looking for anyone related to that witch." "Then are we looking for another one of your exes?" "No, we are n-" Loki stopped short, his lips right in a thin line as he stared at you. "Why are you so interested my exes?" You simply shrugged and raised your brows. "On the contrary, it seems your exes are still pretty interested in you." That casual expression turned into a familiar judgment as your head turned to look at him. "Though I wonder what did they find so-" you hands moved haphazardly- "interesting about you." Loki swivelled his captain seat towards you, locking your legs between his while grounding your armrests with his hands. Clicking the control button on your armrest, he moved your chair a bit closer to him, his face in close proximity to yours. Javier's camera panned in on the gulp moving down your throat while your eyelids did a flutter at this uncalled movement. The 4K caught those goosebumps rising right where his arm barely grazed yours and in the background, Lulu played an arousing violin piece. "Something you can only dream about, darling," he whispered. The violin picked up the charge in the air within its quick clean high notes. The only noise leaving you was the escape of the air stuck in your throat, shivering on its way out. "Of c-" you cleared your throat. trying to sit back up in your seat- "of course I can only fantasize. The reality makes me want to puck. Ugh!"

Loki: Y/N thinks space is all fun and games. What she does not realise is that just like earth, this universe too has an underworld. Ten times in size and twenty times as brutal. And Aellae was just the tip of the filthy iceberg. *camera zooms in on his tensed features* looks into the distance* Wonder who else she told about her. *looks back* *blinks* I'm taking her somewhere we can lie low for now. *rolls eyes* that is if she understands what lying low means. *sighs*

You: *eating bread like a peasant famished for days* Hm? What? No *shakes head* 'm nod nerbous. *takes another bite* debinidly nod becoz o doki. He wash jus playing wee me. *viciously bites into the bread* *growls and buries head in your lap*

"I am still telling you to ask for their help. It's not too late," you suggested in a composed manner, sitting in the co-pilot seat. "I am not calling seven alien boys just because you have a fetish for Korean pop bands." You thwacked his leg with yours. "I do not! And don't you dare talk shit about k-pop." Loki chuckled. "Why? What are going to do?" "I won't. But you know what k-pop fans are like, don't you?" The smile on Loki's face suddenly started to flicker away as he looked at the camera. "Remember that Vegas trip?" Clearing his throat, he adjusted himself on his seat, while you shared a devilish smirk with the camera. "We're going somewhere safe. Where I have a chance of getting my powers back and hopefully a gateway back to earth." You sat up. "Why didn't we go there in the first place?" Loki blinked, not really answering. You and the camera noticed the tension in his jaw. "It's not a place I like to talk about." The asteroid belt cleared in front of the spaceship to show the part of a planet covered in grey clouds shadowing frozen blue mountains and dark valleys. "Jotunheim," you whispered to yourself, letting the gloomy yet majestic scenery of the place reflect in your eyes. “Loki,” all humour in your voice seemed to dilute as you looked back at home, “we don’t have to go there. We-uh...we could go to one of Peter’s hideouts? Or maybe we could call the Boys and ask them to direct us to one of their safe places? You know, till we find a lead on your essence.” A smirk built upon the God's lips. "Is that concern I hear in your voice?" Those worry-laden brows suddenly dispersed all emotion to make way for anger. A slap made way from your hand to his right side of the back. The thwack was loud enough to wake Lulu and force a sincere 'ow' from the God's throat. "This concern is for me and my babies you awful animal," you growled, your voice considerably higher, "you think they'll survive there?"

Jotunheim If the mountains seemed to carry an eerie aura about them, the valleys were a straight suggestion of being pits straight to hell. To add to the effects of arriving at the gates of hell, the snow falling was harsh, to say the least. As soon as the door to the ship opened to let all the passengers feel the heat, the drone travelling outside took in travellers covered in thick fur. Javier carried Lulu on his front, both of them visible just with their faces- not to mention the former's blue eyes standing out over everything else in his surroundings. Loki too embraced the thick skin, looking quite the part of a Jotun till he picked up the hood of your coat to put it over your head without saying much; only smiling when you looked like a fluffed up birb in that Viking overcoat.

Loki: *smiling sheepishly**looks at you standing next to him* Angry birb *looks back at Javier's camera* Sam taught me that one. *camera pans at you simmering under that fur*

Lulu had already picked the background music for his pack's entrance. The Viking beat had just the right amount of weight and horror of the unknown in it as this place did. Just ahead of the pass lay the structure carved in the mountain itself. It could be called a palace or a temple. But that was not what sought your attention. Eyes. The camera caught eyes in the dark staring at the unwanted guests. Blue. Piercing. Murderous. And more than one pair. The drone panned in on that one subconscious movement of your fingers gripping the fur of the coat on Loki's back as the God walked gallantly- as if he owned the planet. But your eyes did not stop to observe the alien movement around you. "Remember-" Loki's whisper brought you out of the daze your own thumping heart was creating for you- "do not show them your fear. Show them that you are to be feared." It may have been his words or just his voice that started to melt the fear visible on your features, lasting for five seconds before a loud thump vibrated the land beneath your feet, making you all come to a stop. And when that was not enough, the audience saw the feet first, then the legs and then the whole length of a Jotun appearing before them. Some necks were really going to feel it tonight.

"Who dares enter the land of Jotunheim?" came the thundering and low growl from the Jotun that stood towering over you all. "The one who is alive and stands on this land," Loki announced, "with the blood of Laufey in my veins, I have come to claim what is mine." There was nothing but an uninviting smirk on the Jotun's face. "I am Loki, son of Laufey, son of Odin, ruler of Asgard and your King," he commanded with ice in his voice, "and you...need to bow...before your King." The dead silence proceeding his threat of a speech was enough for you nearly bury you inside your own overcoat. And when that did not seem enough, your body- on its own- moved a step closer to Loki's side. "Oooooh Gooood," you whispered with quite the shudder while your face was plastered with a no-fucks-given wave, "we're gonna die." On the contrary, the silence was followed by many Jotuns coming out of the shadows to surround your group one by one before bowing down. Even the ones who looked quite young did the same. All of them except for the one Jotun who had greeted you first. "Allir fagna konungi!" they chanted in unison. "All hail the king," Javier translated it for you. "Didn't know you were into Nords," you quipped, "the language, I mean." "Honey, I am all into Nords," he signed before looking around with a smile, finding a buff Jotun that caught his eye. He did not take another second to blink at him and leave that giant a bit confused and flustered at the same time.

Inside the Palace The throne was sculpted out of ice that seemed as old as the mountain. Alongside it had been made seating arrangements for the family, running parallel till the doors of the throne room, all greyish blue stones marked with Jotun carvings. You and Javier believed they might be names of dignitaries. Lulu thought they are just doodles by other babies and proceeded to contribute to the stone they were standing next to. A little female giant sat down and looked at Lulu's doodles with curious wide eyes. Loki stood rightfully in front of his throne, admiring it before turning to his subjects, most of them adults who were exceptionally taller and blue-er than him. The drone captured the magnificence of the throne room that had fire pits next to the seats at intervals right alongside the stone pillars and right in the middle, a few feet in front of the king. But none of them were lit. And the giants were visibly annoyed by the drone while the kids wanted to catch it and play with it. "An Asgardian announces himself as our King," the one giant growled as he stood at the steps of the throne, "why would we believe you to be our King, son of Odin." He nearly spat the last part. The drone captured that bit of concern breaking out on your composed features but Loki just smirked. Pulling his overcoat to the side- as magnificently as he believed himself to be- he sat down as if he has done it ever since he was born. The authority exuding from his presence certainly put the murmurs going around the hall to a standstill. "At ease, Helblindi," he stressed to the giant with a purr and directed the rest of the audience to take their place. "Not you." Everyone stopped short to looked at their king. And he was clearly looking at you. You pointed a finger at yourself in question. "Don't you know your place....pet?" he commanded ever so slyly, discreetly pointing his finger at the stone next to his throne.

You: *look around to make sure no one's looking at you* *anger about to explode through your eyes* *whispering* Pet?? PET?? I swear gonna just *gestures to grab the air* grab his throat and *punches the said air repeatedly in her palm* *camera pans out to focus on three baby giants looking at you in pure horror before their mother carries them away murmuring something* *camera swivels to show Javier looking disappointed* Javier: *signs* she said 'stay away from the crazy human'. *sighs* *shakes his head*

“Come-“ Loki’s fingers gestured at you to come over to that stone couch of a thing next to him- “sit.” Taking a breath to compose your usual embers of rage at that comment, you smiled and walked up the stairs to stand next to him. The camera recorded the little gracious bow you gave the God but not before your back was to the spectators and you signalled an insult with your middle towards him, nearly making him chuckle. And with one heavy inhale, you sat down next to him, clearly not at the same level as him. “Is this what Lulu feels like?” “I would’ve made Lulu sit in my lap,” Loki acknowledged with a smirk. “You’re welcome to join me anytime but for now-“ he adjusted himself on his seat and raised his voice to address the court- “let us have a feast tonight and raise our mugs in union of the Jotun king and his subjects.” Helblindi scoffed and spat on the floor. Loki did not look but he was surely observing his every move. “In union of an excuse of a giant who does not even resemble-“ “I would like you to stop there my brother-“ Loki announced as he got up, letting the whole room take one united gasp at the scene- “before you start regretting your own words.” You blinked at the reactions to turn and look at Loki. Now the lights from the ceiling did a stupendous job of catching the widening of your eyes while your pupils were dilated in an emotion only known to you when you witnessed- for the first time in your life- Loki's skin change its shade and features. The flawless paleness gave way to a blue so deep over those arms he rarely displayed in public. The colour ran up his neck as well, covering him all the way. And along with this shade came ridges on his skin which apparently every Jotun had; running up his face and down his limbs. Those smaragdines and whites around them were now replaced with red. “This Jotun-“ his voice was low, but with enough weight that it echoed to the last corner of the room- “has seen enough lives to know what is hatred and what is fear. So next time you try to question my right, Helblindi, know that I have no qualms in exploiting them in a way which seems necessary for me.” Helbindi did not seem to stand his ground much now. Not after a few Jotuns who stood up to speak against the giant who had been torturing them for a while with his reckless and greed-ridden laws. Javier's camera was stuck on your reaction in the middle of this mild chaos. Your parted lips, wide eyes, stare lingering all over the God's body, your throat feeling the urge to swallow the dryness; it really was a sight, an emotion that many fanfiction artists would want to take inspiration from. Loki- who was smirking at the warm welcome he was receiving through the roar against his brother- turned around to look at you. His smirk disappeared and his usually focused gaze was interrupted with those unsure blinks at your features. Before he could explain himself, one giantess blocked his way to you with a bow. "We have prepared the Bath for you and your companions, your grace," she announced, still with her head held low. His gaze was running between you and her. To make it easier for him, you got up from your seat and walked down to the giantess who wanted to show you, Javier and Lulu to the Bath. "Nandi," Loki finally looked at the giantess. "Yes, your grace." "I need you to choose four of your most loyal companions to guard them." "They are all ready to escort your companions where you please." Loki smiled at Nandi. "I owe it to your mother to protect you, your Grace, like she protected me and my children." "My mother had a loyal friend in you," the God appreciated before walking down the throne and away from the crowd. The drone followed him. The graceful composure of the God crumbled like a dry sand castle as soon as the doors closed behind him and he was alone in the icy corridors. His pace got faster by the second, his eyes searching everywhere. "This isn't fair, you know." Loki stopped at the echo of your voice. The pause of one breath, and he knew where to turn to find you standing in the shadows. Javier stood by the pillar next to you two with his camera, capturing this strange tick on Loki's features. You stepped out of the shadows, your gaze uninterrupted, looking right at those red eyes. "Do you know the amount of chaos it would create on earth if people knew that you look like..." "Like what? A monster?" Loki's voice was heavy. "Nah don't say i-dammit! Now I cannot stop imagining the term monsterfuckers." Loki blinked. His brows furrowed at you ever so slightly. "I mean-" you sighed with frustration- "was it not enough that you looked like a literal God in a human form that you had to now go and reveal that you are one buffed up alien? Look at you? You are one breath away from starting a cult of monsterfuckers! Do you realise that? Look at-" you grabbed that one barely naked blue arm and tried to squeeze it- "this firm, cold, arm that is people are going think about in-" you tried to breathe, your gaze still stuck on his shoulder- "their bed at night. God, why do have to be so-" you pointed at all of him with a frustration-filled, longing look of...disgust- "you." By now Loki was raising his brows in question and shifting his gaze between himself and you, clearly confused by your reaction. It even seemed he was a bit flustered at one point. You winced, looking at his body again. Your eyes followed the ridges on his face to his neck, plunging down his v neck t-shirt. With a frown you turned hastily, flinging your body involuntarily in the direction of the bath. "I bet they go all the way down," you whispered to yourself in between your sobs and walked away.

Loki: *still stands there* *blinks* *looks at the camera* what...*looks in her direction* *looks back* *does this two more times* what just happened?

The Resting Chambers: Next Day One of Javier's drones followed you from the balcony you were standing in to witness the first light of the nearest star in this frozen land. The snow-clad mountains were a majestic sight in their own stature. Even the smile emanating under the warmth of the star could not deny that. The giggles coming from inside the room broke the sweet hum of sync you were having with the weather, walking back in to find Skandi and Kolga, Nandi's daughters setting up the table with Jotunheim's specialities- snowberries, Kruweed- fresh seaweed from the frozen lake- and Lulu's favourite, spiked abalones. "What are you girls snickering about?" Lulu was already jumping on the table to sniff everything placed for his liking. Once he had inspected every single item, he went over to his bowl of abalones.

"Nothing," Skandi cooed, "just discussing how Loki-" Kolga elbowed her sister to correct herself- "how his Grace, keeps looking at you." Your hands paused for a fraction of a second near your mouth before the snowberry found its way in your mouth. "Look at me how?" "He looks at you as if you might vanish any second if he does not keep his eye on you," Kolga added, sitting down next to you. Her face had gentle tones all over it. Her eyes seemed to sparkle whenever she talked to you. "Are you being punished for something?" It took you some time to realise she was genuinely curious. "What. No. Why would you think that?" "Because his grace keeps you under guard. I thought pets were kept in cages in Midgard." Skandi turned to Kolga with a gasp. "He caged her last night then?!" The camera captured your furrowed brows sitting there confused in between the sisters. You opened your mouth to speak but lost to Kolga. "You mean when he told off Helbindi that she will be sleeping in his quarters." Skandi nodded vigorously. "He could not have kept her in a real cage." "Maybe he chained her to the bed." "Ah. So he could keep an eye on her at night." "Is that what happened, y/n?" You hid your face behind the mug of tea that did not seem to leave your lips while your free hand seemed to check your cheeks for their temperature. "This tea is good," your burned throat appreciated the drink. "He seems quite...what is the word... possessive of her," Skandi commented. You shared a look with the drone- your face devoid of any emotions. Kolga hummed in agreement, popping a snowberry in her mouth. "I thought Kruge would die last night by his hands." Now that seemed to catch your attention. "Kruge who?" "Helbindi's guard. The one who nearly pushed you into the wall last night." "When you went inside," Kolga continued, "his Grace took Kruge's staff and struck him in his limbs and threatened him to never touch you again if he wanted to stay alive." "Kruge should be glad he did not use his powers on him lest he would be a part of the dark pit's icicles by now." Kolga and Skandi stopped talked to watch you lost in deep thought while your hands scratched Lulu's back on their own, making the floof purr quite loud. "Is she making this little creature vibrate?" Skandi asked her sister in a whisper. "It looks like it," her sister whispered back in awe.

You: *whispering at Javier* What? No, it's okay. We can record here. No one can say anything. *sits on the stone seat in the gallery that seems empty to the camera* *adjusts hair* is it recording? Of course. It's always recording. *clears throat* *at normal tone* So, clearly...*inhales* *raises brows* things are barely standing still right now. And it is clearly not helping that Loki is having sudden urges to pick a fight with whoever bullies me. *Javier's drone catches him discreetly signing at you to lower your voice a bit* You: *irritated* I mean does he want me to get bullied more? Bullies are always going to pick on the weak one in the group for fuck's sake! And evidently, I am the weaker sex. *the camera catches a movement behind you, turning to focus on the source* You: and his highness does not seem to realise that it will be too easy for these giants to torture his weaknesses out of me. Does he not see that? *squints at Javier* what? The drone is recording Javier aggressively telling you to cut it out while looking pale as his gaze goes far behind you. You turn to look where his gaze is going. Javier's camera automatically focuses on Kruge standing next to the last pillar, throwing daggers in your direction through his bloody eyes for a moment before disappearing somewhere. You: *turn around with a shade lighter yourself* *the camera is panning over your face now as you look at it* *whispers* Fuck!

Five Minutes Later One of the drones buzzed against the ice that separated the balcony and the bedroom, tapping itself repeatedly on the transparent frost till the door to the room opened. It turned around to record you and Javier rush inside- the latter placing his camera in his bag and packing his stuff. "Okay, relax, relax!" you stressed to the hyperventilating boy. "We need to get out of here," he signed. "Javi, take three deep breaths? Yes? One? Two? Good. Three. Now think about it. As long as we are with Loki, no one will dare harm us. Okay? Not to mention he has allotted us our personal security team." Javier was on the verge of sobbing. "What about when Loki is not around. What will we do then?" "Javi, don't think like that," you nearly fumed at him. "Loki is in the throne room right now. You take the guards with you and go to him and when you find a window let him know what happened, okay?" Javier was still taking deep breaths while sweating through his fur coat. He nodded. "What about you?" "I...have Lulu." You pointed at the floof sleeping with his belly bared and his paws out. "I won't leave the room, don't worry." Once convinced you'll be fine, Javier hurried outside, leaving you in a silence only filled by light snores of your baby. The drone recorded you biting your lip and tying your hair up in a bun. "Okay," you whispered to yourself, "now we wait." It also recorded the sudden change in the shade of one section of the wall opposite to your back. With the focus still on you, the section of the wall appeared to open out, revealing the pitch blackness lit by a pair of red eyes. The next thing you knew, the drone was lying on the floor, its barely working lens recording your muffled screams and boots struggling to find the ground as a pair of blue feet walked past the lens before it went black.

One Hour Later The camera sat on the stone seat, recording the periodic tapping of Javier's foot from outside the frame. Loki still had audience. The Jotuns discussed every aspect of Jotunheim with the king. Loki sat patiently, listening to every word before advising them necessary steps. The majority was satisfied with the King's suggestions. Many were even in awe. There were a few who were dissatisfied no matter what the God mentioned. "Well-" Loki sat straight, addressing the whole court- "this concludes our day then." "Your grace," one giant bowed at the steps, "there are a few more issues that need your kind attention." Loki sighed, his hand resting on the armrest, his fingers running over his lips in thought. Not sure about Loki, but the camera recorded the patient that ran out of Javier. He got up from his seat, immediately catching the God's eye, who was quick to raise his fingers just for the boy to stop taking any further steps towards him. "You have stalled me enough," the God acknowledged, catching the giant off guard. "Helbindi should know it better than anyone that a coup against me would be a futile attempt." Loki did not budge where he sat, just his finger drumming on the arm rest. "And I am in no mood for a mutiny."

The one drone who had been playing with the Jotun kids picked up the damage to a drone in the resting chambers. It buzzed through the halls, trying to pick up your trail, finding corridors and corners to fly through, walking down dark pathways with no windows and steep stairs spiraling deep into the mountains. On its way it found Lulu howling and meowing in a frantic daze, walking down the same path where he found your scent. And it seemed like he found you through the same dark pathway that ultimately reached an opening. There was nothing but ice all around and in every form. A section of the mountain that opened to the outside with a catch. There were cells cut into this ice for prisoners. Shackles of cold metal rested in every cell. Each of them had metals bars to keep the captives in and an opening in the ice to keep any grain of warmth out. And to add to it all, this entire prison cell rested on a frost chunk hanging at the edge of the mountain. "Stop, please, you cannot do this!" Your voice and footsteps could be heard echoing through this section. The drone buzzed and landed on the wall to record the Kruge stripping you of your fur coat with a maniacal grin on his face. "Hey! HEY!! Give me back my coat!" Kruge stopped you from going for your coat by his hand coming for your throat. His grip made it hard for you to breathe as you struggled to get out of the hold, your nails trying their best to dig into that stubborn cold skin of his. Lulu ran and growled at the giant, scratching at his ankles till the latter kicked him away. "What do you want?" you barely managed to get out of your mouth. "We want Loki out of Jotunheim," he growled in your face, smacking your back in the ice wall behind you before letting go of your throat. You fell down with a thud and a groan, taking in as much air as your windpipe allowed. "Okay," you wheezed, "okay. You let me talk to Loki and I will convince him to leave Jotunheim. I promise. I pinky promise." You even raised your pinky. But Kruge was already closing the bars on you. Lulu ran and jumped through the bars to stop by your side, sniffing and crying, wanting to make sure you were okay. "No no no no," you crawled to the bars, trying to wrap your fingers around them but failing once your skin felt the vicious cold personally, "please don't do this. You have to stop. Now." "You said you know Loki's weakness," a voice boomed from the shadows where you had been dragged from. A very familiar and ominous voice. The drone turned to capture Helbindi stepping into the ice prison with a stature fit for kings. "His essence is lost. It is a secret no more, you quim." You looked at Lulu in confused defeat. "Why does it feel like he called me a whore?" you whispered. Lulu threw his own curses at the giant. "Listen, sir, Mr Helbindi," you began, "you want the throne, right? And I want to get out of here alive. How about I take Loki with me? You get back your kingly rights, I get my friends back and we go our separate ways. Everybody wins!" Helbindi came down on his knees in front of you. A smile rested on those cracked lips of his. His hand went past the bars- to your surprise- and landed on your cheeks. Your gaze kept shifting between his eyes and his hand while your body tried to move away from his hold. But he was one stubborn bastard. "He must have kept you alive for a reason." Helbindi was talking to himself now. His thumb rubbed against your skin, something that was visibly making you uncomfortable. "Ah...he keeps you to satisfy his nightly needs." You pushed yourself away from Helbindi, only to be forced into the bars by his hold around your skull; his chuckle resonating through the prison. "Do not worry my little whore," he whispered right in your ear while his icy breath ran over your skin, "you will be my pet soon. And unlike Loki-" he licked your cheek with his tongue, driving you mad with disgust- "I prefer violence even in my chambers." Your breaths were shallow. A single tear falling from your eyes as you did you best to maintain your features. "You are making a grave mistake," you whispered through your teeth. Lulu tried to claw at Helbindi too but Kruge was already kicking him away, earning a death stare from you. The giant struck his nail in your throat, driving it deep till there was blood. "The only mistake that was made was by you coming into my land. And you all will pay for it." Dropping you back into the snow, Helbindi got up and walked back into the darkness.

Loki watched the doors open to let Helbindi in, his gait ever so dominating as he walked past the judgmental eyes of every other giant in the court with his own little battalion following him, carrying weapons of all sorts. "A king with no powers has no right to sit on the throne, Laufeyson," Helbindi roared, ground his staff a few feet away from the stairs to the throne, creating a crack in the ground. "And a Jotun with Asgard in his blood has no right to stay alive in Jotunheim." Weapons were drawn at anyone who was not on Helbindi's side. Javier was already on his feet, running by Loki's side with his camera. Loki still had his mouth covered with his hand, as if in a tired trance. "Everybody out," he commanded ever so smoothly to his audience- who was hesitant at first, but left as soon as the God's eyes pierced through every last one of them. Left alone with his brother's radical followers, he sighed out loud, his fingers still drumming. Javier felt a buzz in his pocket, making him take out the little tablet he used to control his cameras. "Your actions with every passing moment make me more sure of your inability to rule over the subjects, brother mine," the God simply commented. The seriousness on Javier's face was turning into a field of fear. "Oh, I am not asking, brother mine," Helbindi snared at Loki, "I am taking what is mine." "And why would I give you anything you want." "Ask your little plaything," Helbindi smirked. The drumming of those pale fingers stopped. Silence eroded in the throne room. And slowly a shallow panting was audible from the God's side. The camera suddenly lost its balance and fell down on the armrest before toppling on the throne behind Loki, his back still in the frame. Light reflected through Javier's eyes, more precisely through his tears, as he moved the tablet towards Loki. "Stop, please, you cannot do this!" your voice echoed through the tablet, and all the lines on Loki's face disappeared. His body got up from the throne, his eyes still stuck on the device, looking at the aftermath of Helbindi's actions. There was no emotion on the God's face while he witnessed everything recorded on the drone. He did not even budge till the recording finished. Once the screen blacked out, he swerved the tablet for Javier to take back. His gaze was apparently still stuck on the black stones on the floor, his jaw threateningly sharp in whatever light coming from the nearest star. "If you want to see her alive again, go back to your ship before the star drops fro-," "You touched her." His voice was just a decibel higher than a whisper; his shoulders stiff. The silver bracelets were visible on his wrists, more so with the light reflecting from them. His pale fingers now turned into fists. "You hurt her." Nothing but the resonating crack of a metal reverberated through the hall and everything went black.

The drone sat over the bars, recording the visible shivering breaths coming out of you while your skin turned pale, your fingers blue and your hairs were already collecting frost over them, despite moving your legs as close as you possibly could to your body. "P-plea-hease," your voice shuddered, "s-s-stop hi-im. T-there is-s-s st-i-ill time." "Your master is quite possibly begging on his knees by now," Kruge cackled, gulping down the mead and pouring more from the barrel next to him. Lulu was trying his best to keep your warm with his little body, wrapping himself around your neck while whimpering for you. Kruge was about to finish another mug when his ears caught a snicker that slowly turned into a weak laughter. The drone recorded you chuckling through the pain of the blight. "What is so comedic," Kruge snarled at you. "You thought I was telling you to stop for Loki's sake?" you laughed a little more, making the Jotun simmer with building rage. "I was telling you to stop your master before it's too late, you sewage rat's tick." The lens panned in on your features, all those helpless tears replaced by a smirk that could put the devil to shame. "You master thinks I am Loki's weakness." Your eyes glistened with a tint of some hidden darkness inside them in contrast to all the white around you. "Because I made him think that, you buffoon." "He is nothing without his essen-" "Count your peaceful breaths, you son of a bitch," you stressed, never batting your eyelids, "because you are not going to die an easy death today." You smiled turned into a chuckle before your eyes turned heavy and you fell down. The drone- in its last few minutes- went dark, but not before recording Lulu's cried, mewls, howls that slowly turned into a blood curdling roar echoing till the end.

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favefandomimagines · 4 years ago

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Why Did You Do It? (r.c.)

Summary: you find out that Rafe gave the Rolex you gifted him as collateral for Barry and that was the last straw for you.

AN: again, this is not entirely canon Rafe. there’s no murder or the assault on Pope. The only canon thing about him is the drug problem (:

It was no secret that you and Rafe were the power couple of the OBX. No one would even attempt to get with you or get with him in fear of the other coming to their defense.

Though the pressures Rafe faced from his father was a constant point of contension in your relationship. So much so, you knew that when Rafe stormed into your bedroom and began pacing, it was best to let him get it out before even trying to calm him down.

But Rafe was dead set on making sure that you stayed in his life. Obviously because he loved you and he felt that you brought out the best version of him, but also because you were the only thing his father thinks he’s done right.

You slowly began to hear the rumors that were going around the island. That Rafe was getting into hard drugs and started to lash out more at the Pogues. Confrontation wasn’t Rafe’s strong suit but you didn’t want to be with someone who turned to drugs to cope.

The night of your first confrontation, you apprehensively entered the large house and practically ran into Ward.

“Oh, hi, Mr. Cameron.” You greeted him. “Hello, Y/N. It’s good to see you. Rafe’s in his room. Probably thinking of what he can mess up next.” Ward said, clearly a jab at his son.

You ignored the irritation that you felt hearing him say that. You gave him a small smile before treating up the staircase towards Rafe’s room. The door was partially open and you saw him sitting at his desk, doing stuff on his laptop.

“Knock, knock.” You announced. “Hey, baby. I didn’t know you were coming by today.” Rafe greeted you, looking over his shoulder. “Uh, yeah I just wanted to stop by. See what you were up to today.” You explained.

“Probably golf with Topper and Kelce. Kelce is having a party at his house tonight so maybe you and I would stop by.” Rafe said.

At that point, you knew you just had to be straight forward and confront him about the things you’ve heard. “Rafe, can I talk to you about something?” You asked, moving to sit on his bed. “Of course you can.” He said, still clicking on his computer.

“I’ve been hearing some stuff recently. That you’ve been going to the Cut to get drugs from Barry.” You said. “Is it true?” You questioned. “Where have you been hearing this?” Rafe asked you. By that point, he had completely turned around to face you.

“It’s been going around, Rafe. Sarah texted me, saying I should probably talk to you about it.” You answered. “Y/N, I would never lie to you. I’m not going to the Cut for drugs. Why would I even want to take drugs?” He asked. “I don’t know. To forget about your dad and his constant pressure on you.” You said.

“I don’t need drugs to help me escape from my dad. I have you and you are the only thing I need to make me feel happy.” He told you.

Of course you believed him. He had never given you a reason to not trust him before. You nodded your head as he got up and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

Your second suspicion that something was wrong, was at a party Topper was throwing. You and Rafe had shown up together as per usual but at one point in the night, you had gotten separated.

You were talking with Sarah when Rafe came turning the corner, seeming to be too hyped up about a local party. “Hey baby! I was wondering where you snuck off to.” He said, sliding his arm around your waist.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing.” You said, looking up at him. And when you did, you noticed some white powder on his face. You furrowed your eyebrows and raised your hand to wipe it off.

Rafe’s smile faltered slightly but he recovered quite well. The only person who seemed to still be dwelling on it was you.

“Rafe, where were you?” You asked. “I was with Kelce, he wanted to do a keg stand.” He answered casually. “Promise that’s all that happened?” You questioned. “I promise. I wouldn’t break a promise, you know that.” Rafe told you.

He kissed your lips sweetly and then the two of you enjoyed the rest of your time at the party.

After that, you ignored all of the rumors your friends were telling you about Rafe selling them cocaine. You trusted Rafe and why would you listen to other people over him?

That was until you went to drive Kiara to John B’s since her car had a flat tire. You were friends with Kie and didn’t mind the people she hung out with. You were good to them so they were good to you in return.

You pulled up to the house and she hopped out as JJ ran to your rolled down window. “Hey, JJ. What’s up?” You asked him. “Uh, did you ever give Rafe a Rolex with an engraving of a date on the back?” He questioned you.

“Uh, yeah, why?” You pushed. JJ didn’t say anything but fish the watch out of his shorts pocket. “Where did you get this?” You asked as he handed it to you. “He gave it to Barry for collateral. My dad stole it while he was there for a fix and I found it on the table when he passed out this morning.” JJ explained.

You looked down at the watch as Kie and JJ looked at you with both pity and anger for you. “I’ll see you guys later.” You muttered before peeling out of the driveway.

Sarah had told you that Rafe was at Topper’s and you probably broke a few laws trying to get there as quickly as possible. You pulled up and could hear the music coming from the porch.

You didn’t think you could be so angry at Rafe until that moment. The Rolex was a gift you had given him on your two year anniversary. It was the first thing you had given him with the money you earned teaching surf lessons, so it meant a lot to give it to him. You only thought it meant the same to him, but clearly it hadn’t.

“Why’d you do it?” You questioned, causing the three boys to turn around and face you. “What?” Rafe asked with a small laugh. You held up the watch and you saw guilt wash over your boyfriend’s face as he looked at the object in your hands.

“Want to try to lie to me again?” You sneered. “Y/N,” He started. “No, Rafe. Not only did you lie to me when I asked you if you were getting drugs, you gave Barry your watch as collateral for cocaine. You lied to my face and made me look like the biggest idiot in this entire town.” You snapped.

“Baby, you don’t understand.” Rafe said, moving to approach you. “What’s there to understand, Rafe?” You yelled, tears slowly starting to cloud your vision. “You lied to me. You promised me. And you clearly don’t care or you would’ve fessed up the first time I asked you.” You added. “So you can take the watch for collateral and you can never speak to me again.” You finished, shoving the watch into his chest until he took it.

“Please, Y/N, don’t do this. I can’t lose you.” He pleaded. “You lost me the second you lied to me.” You muttered, wiping the tears off your cheeks and retreating back to your car.

It had been a couple of weeks since you had broken up with Rafe and word went around like a forest fire. Sarah was your closest friend, so she opted on staying at your house for the duration of those couple of weeks. Just going home to get new clothes and tell Ward she was alive.

As she was getting an outfit for a Boneyard party that night, Rafe stopped in her doorway.

“Are you still staying at Y/N’s?” He asked her. “Yeah.” Sarah answered plainly. “How is she? Is she okay?” Rafe questioned. “Is she okay? Seriously? She’s devastated, Rafe. You broke her trust and lied to her. She didn’t love you so much, she’d probably be fine.” Sarah answered.

“If she loved me so much, she wouldn’t have broken up with me.” Rafe replied, just out of pure frustration. Not frustration with you but with himself because it was his own fault.

“If you loved her as much as you claimed you do, you would’ve been honest with her. Instead of making her butt of every joke for months.” Sarah rebutted. She zipped her bag closed and pushed past her older brother. Leaving him there to regret his actions even more.

Rafe looked down at the watch on his wrist and groaned angrily. He had to get you back but he just didn’t know how.

Later that evening, Sarah had to drag you to the Boneyard to the party the Pogues were throwing. You obviously weren’t in the party mood but Sarah was very persuasive.

You were stood with the Pogues as you bobbed slightly to the music that was playing. John B could see that your mind was a million miles away from the Boneyard.

“You okay?” He asked you. You gave him a tight lipped smiled and nodded your head, looking at the contents of the plastic cup in your hand. “I know you better than that, Y/N. It’s about Rafe isn’t it?” John B questioned.

He could see your face distort into something he couldn’t quite comprehend. “Y/N, what he did was fucked up. I know that, you know that, and I’m sure he knows that. Because when you were with him he laid off of us and he was actually tolerable. He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness but maybe it would be good for you to listen to him. If not to understand but maybe to get closure so you can move on.” John B told you.

You hated to admit that he was right but he was. If it wasn’t going to fix things between the two of you, talking to Rafe would give you the closure you needed to move on.

You excused yourself from your friends as you wandered to find Rafe but luck wasn’t on your side.

“Topper, where’s Rafe?” You asked the blonde. “I think he’s by the keg.” Topper answered. You were about to go towards that direction when Topper stopped you. “Look, I know what he did was bad but he really loves you. If that’s worth anything.” He told you.

You just gave him a curt nod before walking towards the keg.

Rafe was leaning against the table, staring at his feet until he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up and saw you standing a few feet away from him. Rafe could tell you were uncomfortable by the way you shifted weight from one foot to the other.

“H-Hey.” He stammered. “Hi. We, uh, need to talk.” You spoke. Rafe gave you a nod and gestured for the two of you to step away from the music and people.

“I miss you.” He said. “Why’d you lie to me?” You questioned, not even registering what he just said.

Rafe swallowed the lump in his throat as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I lied to you because I knew you’d be disappointed in me. You wouldn’t see me anymore, you’d see your boyfriend the guy who does cocaine. I didn’t want you to look at me like the way you are right now.” He answered. “And what about the watch? I worked so hard to give you that and you just, gave it away.” You said.

“I know, it was a mistake. I just supposed to sell the coke for extra cash and I would’ve gotten the watch back. My dad’s been on my ass about money for stuff around the house and I just panicked.” Rafe said. “That’s not an excuse for you lying to me. We aren’t supposed to lie to each other, you don’t lie to the person you love, Rafe.” You told him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I-I just wanted to forget about my dad. You were right, I was doing it to cope. And I felt like if I talked to you, you would leave because you’d just see me as incapable of taking care of you.” He said.

You sighed and looked from him to the cup in your hand. “You’ve always taken care of me. You always have, but you can’t lie to me and keep things from me. That’s not what we do.” You told him.

“Can you ever forgive me? I-I paid Barry back and I haven’t stepped foot there since you left me.” Rafe pleaded.

You were quiet and hesitant for a moment, wanting so bad to be strong and not give in. But you loved Rafe even if he did make many mistakes. It was hard to just give all of the good up just for a really bad thing.

“You have one more chance. Do anything like this again, and I’m gone.” You finally spoke. “I promise, I will not lie or keep things from you again.” He said.

He walked towards you hesitantly, almost as if he were asking for permission to come closer to you. You nodded your head and he quickly engulfed you in his arms.

“I love you, I hope you know that.” You whispered. “I love you too. I always will.” Rafe said back.

It of course took time for you to full trust Rafe again but over time, he learned to heal and you found yourself trusting him again.

#imagine #imagines #outer banks #rafe cameron #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey

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solinarimoon · 4 years ago

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Fields of Wildflowers

Chapter 8

A Sihtric x OC story

AN: Nothing really to note for this chapter except friendships and more fluff and some small angst I guess. Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list for this story. If you wish to catch up on previous chapters, you can do so here. Or visit my masterlist.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma and alcohol consumption.

Word Count: 3378

“Please, you deserve a few days to yourself, without the duties of a handmaiden, Cwen. After all you and the rest of the group have been through, it is the least I can do.”

Cwen found herself standing peering out the window of Aelfwynn’s chambers, watching the everyday commotion of the people going about their lives. The woman walking with her basket slung on her hip and her other hand holding onto their child who desperately tried to race to something across the yard. The soldier’s casually strolling on their rounds. The smithey and alley where Sihtric had pulled her the night before. Cwen’s eyes lingered on the small alley for several moments. A longing began to stir low in her pelvis.

Cwen was broken from her thoughts when she heard Aethelflaed speak her name a bit louder.

“Cwen, I don’t think you've been listening. Which just further justifies you taking a few days to yourself. It is not only Aelfwynn who has been through an ordeal. Please take some time,”

Aethelflaed was seated next to Aelfwynn’s bedside where the young girl was stirring. “I know, Lady Aethelflaed, but,”

“My daughter is safe and at home because of you, Cwen,” Aetheleflaed interrupted Cwen’s argument. “And we have Wyllath to help care for her as well. She has missed Aelfwynn and caring for her while you all were at Saltwic. The children will be well looked after. I insist.”

Cwen sighed but felt her lips tug upward in a grin, “As you wish, my lady. But you know I would have done anything in my power to protect Aelfwynn and would do it again if needed.”

“I know this, Cwen. She and I are both blessed to have you.”

“Thank you, my lady. I will take my leave then.”

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

After allowing herself a few hours of sleep, Cwen’s feet could not help taking her out to the yard where she knew the children were playing. It did not matter that she did not have handmaiden duties to fulfill this day. She still wanted to check in on her little ones.

Aelfwynn and Aethelstan were both giggling and dashing behind trees and bushes. Wyllath, Aelfwynn’s Mercian handmaiden was playing a lively game of hide and seek with the children.

Aethelstan was the first to notice Cwen watching them. He immediately raced to her with his arms outstretched.

Aelfwynn came near after similarly enveloping Cwen’s waist in a tight embrace.

Chuckling at their youthful exuberance, Cwen asked, “and how are my little birds faring this morning?”

Both children clamoured to speak over one another.

Continuing to laugh at their antics, Cwen told them to speak one at a time.

Aelfwynn spoke first.

“I am doing much, much, much better, Cwen. Wyllath has been chasing us and we keep surprising her.”

“Yes and then she squeals and we run away! Would you like to play with us? Please!” Aethelstan pleaded.

Cwen smiled at them. It was beautiful to see them carefree and happy, being children once more.

Wyllath had joined them, giving Cwen a slight hug while addressing her, “Cwen! It is so good to see you. You look well. Aelfwynn has told me all about your adventures.”

Cwen stopped her, “I would hardly call it adventures. More like running and fighting for our lives,” she said albeit with a smile.

Aelfwynn looked up to Cwen and scrunched her nose, “But I think it was adventurous. I was scared and sick, but there was still a lot of excitement. Remember playing in the river? And the huge tree we slept under?”

It amazed Cwen to see the resilience of youth. Despite all of the trauma from their journey, Aelfwynn remembered the glimmers of happiness.

“You are right, I guess little bird. I think I am just remembering the more upsetting parts of our journey. Some of which you would not remember.” Cwen replied while placing her hand on top of Aelfwynn’s hair.

Aelfwynn smiled as if she had won an argument.

“And you got to spend more time with Sihtric,” the young girl added while giggling with Aethelstan.

“Oh, run off and play more you two.” Cwen demanded, feeling her cheeks heat up.

Even the children have taken notice, she thought.

Wyllath lingered a moment longer, “Aelfwynn has mentioned this man several times. It is clear by how she speaks of him, of all of your warrior companions really, that they took great care over you all.”

“Yes, they did. They are good men.” Cwen replied, not missing the knowing smirk and glint in Wyllath’s eye.

“And maybe one in particular that took great care of you, Cwen? This Sihtric?” Wyllath could not help herself asking. The curiosity of a girl a few years younger than Cwen could not be held at bay.

Feeling the heat continue to rise in her cheeks, Cwen replied, “Possibly, Wyllath. But if you will excuse me, I need to speak with Eadith.” Allowing no other confirmation or denial of Wyllath’s questions, Cwen slipped away from the young woman and headed towards her friend.

Eadith sat on a bench beneath a sprawling tree observing the children in their play.

“Good day, Eadith. You look well.”

“As do you, Cwen. I see a healthy blush to your cheeks. But that may just be a response to young Wyllath’s questions about a certain Dane of our acquaintance,” Eadith replied with a laugh.

Cwen’s mouth dropped open in shock as Eadith continued, “the wind carries. I could hear her prodding.”

Sitting down with a huff, Cwen responded, “Wyllath has always been curious to know about the lives and loves of those around her. She is a sweet woman, though still very young. Kind and loving with Aelfwynn. I usually enjoy speaking with her…” she trailed off watching Wyllath and the children run and laugh.

“But not now?” Eadith questioned. “Or just not when it comes to Sihtric?”

When Cwen shifted her eyes to glance sideways at Eadith, she smirked but said nothing.

“Finan and I wondered where you and he disappeared to last night. You weren’t gone long enough to have…”

But her words were cut off by Cwen shushing her and playfully pushing her shoulder into her friend.

“No, of course not. But…” Cwen took a deep breath, “you were right. Anout your observations before. About his passion. I have never felt so…” Cwen trailed off, struggling to find the words.

“We all see the way he looks at you. He is yours, Cwen. And I suspect that you are his as well, if you will allow it.”

A gentle breeze wafted through the yard, bringing with it the laughter of the children. Cwen kept her eyes fixated on the scene in front of her but felt her brows pull into a frown. Her fingers twisting and ringing each other in her lap. No matter how strong her feelings for Sihtric, the idea of allowing herself to be intimate and vulnerable dredged up painful thoughts.

As if knowing where her friend's mind had drifted, Eadith reached over to take one of Cwen’s hands, stopping their worried fidgeting.

“Please do not let what my brother has taken from you, what he has done to you stop you from finding happiness.”

Cwen searched Eadith’s face and squeezed her hand in return offering her a slight nod and smile. “Thank you Eadith. I have made promises to myself to not allow my history to get in the way of my future. But making good on those promises will take time.” Cwen patted Eadith’s hand and continued, “Sihtric has said he will wait for me. So we are moving slowly.”

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Cwen continued with a knowing smile, “As I suspect you and Finan may be as well.”

Eadith gasped and turned her face to meet Cwen’s own, but before she could speak their conversation was interrupted.

“Excuse me, ladies.”

“Lady Aethelflaed, good day,” Eadith spoke while standing to greet the Lady of Mercia.

“My Lady,” Cwen replied while standing to embrace her.

“I thought I told you to take the day to rest, Cwen?”

“You did, but I could not help coming to check on them for a short while. I did rest some this morning.”

“I am glad. In truth I came to speak with Eadith though.”

Aethelflaed turned her body to meet the other woman’s.

“I must thank you, Lady Eadith. I was wrong to doubt you. You delivered my message to Lord Uhtred as you said you would.”

“I was happy to be of assistance,” Eadith replied with an eager smile.

“And from what Cwen has told me, you cared for Aelfwynn on the road. Helped to cool her fever.” Aethelflaed’s eyes gazed across the field at her daughter.

“She is a fearless child. It must be in her blood,” Eadith replied.

“My daughter is fond of you.”

“And I her.”

Cwen watched the exchange between the two women in cautious silence. Having grown up with Aethelflaed, it was easier for Cwen to know when the woman was mulling over a serious matter rather than engaging in social niceties.

“Perhaps,” Eadith invoked, “I could be of use to her here. I could help Cwen and Wyllath with their handmaiden duties for Aelfwynn?”

Cwen’s eye darted to her lady to gauge her reaction to such a request. Aethelflaed brought her eyes to meet Eadith and took several steps closer to speak and yet not be overheard, “I am curious. Why did you reveal your brother as Aethelred’s murderer?”

Sighing, Eadith replied “Eardwulf may be my brother, but I knew what he did was wrong.” Cwen’s eyes found her friends as she continued, “My brother did many things that were wrong. And I would like to try and correct his errors if I can. I chose to be loyal to you, my lady. And to Lord Uhtred because I believe in what you and he are doing.”

“I thank you. But your loyalties remain to be seen.”

Cwen interjected, “My Lady Aethelflaed, I can vouch for Eadith and her loyalties,” But her words were cut short.

“I will judge that for myself. But I thank you, nonetheless, for your aid in seeing my daughter safely returned to me.”

After Aethelflaed said farewell and returned indoors to complete her other duties, the ladies returned to the bench.

“I fear I will never win her trust. And I do not blame her for that.”

“That may be true for the lady. But if it is any consolation, you have earned my trust. And my respect. And in equal measure, my friendship. You were the one who brought our attention to the healer in the forest. And the one who broached the difficult choice to use the wormwood. I still do not know and probably never will know if that is what saved her or if it was something else.” Cwen reached out and clasped Eadith’s hand once more while giving the red haired woman a small smile.

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

Later that afternoon saw Cwen tagging along with the Coccham warriors as they drank themselves silly. Stiorra was also in their midst enjoying spending time with her father’s oathmen and attempting to keep pace with them.

The group pushed through the doorway into the ale house with a boisterous Finan encouraging the usually stoic baby monk, who was protesting any more ale.

“Come on, Osferth. Everyone knows you cure like with like. We drink.” Finan admonished Osferth as they approached the bar. Cwen laughed wholeheartedly at the exchange between the men.

“If the man wishes to be done drinking, you will let him, Finan. I, for one, do not wish to be taking care of a sick baby monk.” Cwen chastised, receiving a raucous round of laughter from her friends. The alcohol had made her lower her guard and allowed her to feel a lightheartedness that had been missing since their water fight by the stream.

“Well here then dear Cwen, you will drink his mug,” Finan all but shouted while trying to hand Cwen a mug.

“Oh no, I will take a break too,” she laughed.

“Alright and what is your excuse then?” Finan questioned exasperatedly.

“I do not know any of you well enough to let my guard down and be drunk around you,” Cwen quipped, an impish smile gracing her face.

“Oh no, living on the run with us, traveling in the wilderness, running for our lives. You are right, we barely know each other.” Finan’s retort was met with another round of laughter.

“Well, I do.” Stiorra glided in between Finan’s outstretched arm to grab the mug of ale.

“Oh no, you have had enough,” Finan countered.

The rest of his words were lost to Cwen. Sihtric had casually slung his arm up to rest on her shoulders. The Dane continued to hold a quiet and reserved manner in relation to his Irish brother, but the alcohol had definitely reduced some of his brooding nature to allow a more carefree demeanor. The closeness of him captured Cwen’s focus like a candle in a dark room. She felt him stagger slightly and held on to his torso to steady him.

“Careful, Sihtric. You may be too much in your cups now too.” Cwen looked up to meet a soft and relaxed expression on his face. Her smile reached all the way to her eyes as she watched him.

She felt Sihtric lean his lips towards her ear, “your smile is like the stars at night, my lady. I never tire of looking at them.”

Cwen felt a rush of heat settle low in her belly once more.

She placed a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose which prompted an equally large grin to grace Sihtric’s lips. He pulled her closer into him and kissed the top of her head before reaching behind her to tweak Osferth’s chin.

“Hey,” he got the warrior monk's attention, “stay awake.”

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

Several rounds later they emerged from the ale house, blinking at the brightness of the day.

A passing soldier shoved Osferth who stumbled into an unassuming Cwen.

“Hey!” Sihtric hollered at the soldier while reaching out to steady her.

“I’m fine. Osferth?”

The young man just simply held up his hand as he hunched over gathering his breath. He could obviously not keep up with the amount of ale he had been served.

Glancing around, it was easy to notice the unusual movements of the Wessex soldiers. All across the yard, soldiers were hurrying this way and that. The general attitude around seemed harried and bothered.

“If today were a day of celebration for the new lord of Mercia, I would fear that King Edward’s guards are seizing Mercia.” Finan mused as they all began shuffling along the street.

“They do not look like they are celebrating,” Sihtric pondered aloud.

“Something has changed. I must see Aethelflaed,” Cwen mused.

“We will see you to the hall safely, Cwen” Finan assured her.

The group began to quickly make their way towards the great hall, as Sihtric and Finan instinctively moved to walk on either side of Cwen. Cwen felt a hand gently guiding her along her lower back and she glanced at Sihtric.

Any trace of the carefree, intoxicated man was wiped from his face. In its place she saw that focus and concentration she had first identified with him all that time ago, in Saltwic.

His eyes scanned the surroundings constantly, while his hand remained a solid and guiding force on their way to find Aethelflaed and their lord.

In their haste to find their lord and lady, they rounded a corner and almost bumped into a guard who immediately brandished his sword at them.

Cwen found her body shielded by Sihtric as the men raised their hands.

“We meant nothing. Just didn’t see you there.” Finan spoke for all of them, quickly defusing the situation.

The guard sheathed his weapon and returned to his business while Sihtric, Cwen, Finan, and Osferth found another route to the great hall.

“Stiorra, find Eadith. Make sure you two stay together and try to stay indoors somewhere. I will find you soon,” Cwen instructed, her voice taking on a harsh tone unusual for her.

Finan gave Stiorra a stern look and word when the young woman made to protest the demand.

Upon entering the great hall, it was clear that the lords of Mercia were unaware of the occupation that is occurring outside their doors.

Finan spoke quietly to Uhtred who informed Aethelflaed of her brother’s seizure of Aelesburg.

While the others stood on the steps of the hall discussing matters with Father Pyrlig, Cwen waited just inside the doors.

Eyes searching, Sihtric scanned the faces surrounding him when he realized Cwen was not among those outside.

When his eyes did find her, his feet took him to her side before his mind could give the command.

Cwen watched him approach her with eyes wide open, anxious.

“This is bad, isn’t it?” She questioned him as he took his place beside her, also watching the exchange between the figures on the steps.

“It is,” he replied. Simple and honest.

“I hope Stiorra listens and has found Eadith,” Cwen worried.

“I am sure they are well and safe.”

When Cwen did not reply, Sihtric shifted his gaze to see her staring but unseeing. Brow furrowed.

“What is it, lady?”

Broken from her thoughts, Cwen looked at her feet a moment before replying.

“It is times like these, when men are drunk on power, that women have cause to be afraid,” she breathed. Her words were so soft, Sihtric had to strain his ears to hear her.

“Is that why you stopped drinking with us? You feared we were drunk on power from our lord's new position?”

Sihtric’s words were not angry. Not accusing. But his voice was low and deep, pained.

“It was a jest meant for laughs and to take the attention away from Osferth,” Cwen stalled while fidgeting with her fingers again and not meeting Sihtric’s eyes.

After a breath, she felt the knuckles of Sihtric’s hand gently guide her chin up to meet his gaze.

“And many jests have foundations in truth,” he whispered.

“Yes,” Cwen breathed as her eyes began to glisten with unshed tears.

Sihtric did not pry. He did not ask her to go on. He waited for her to speak. And if she did not, he would understand.

All these things Cwen knew. She knew he valued her words and did not push her to be ready prematurely. He had proven this to her in the forest and again after kissing her in the alley.

“Eardwulf was fond of drinking. Especially when he felt the need to feel in control. To exert power. So that is the truth behind my words in the ale house.”

Sihtric stared deeply into Cwen’s eyes as his hand shifted from her chin to cup the nape of her neck. He placed a kiss on her temple before shifting his position as he and Cwen followed his lord and the others inside. It was a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Aethelflaed.

Once inside the hall again, Uhtred spoke hurried words to Finan and then turned to his other men.

“You two, with me.”

“Where to, Lord?” Osferth asked as he followed along behind Uhtred.

Knowing his lord meant them to likely put themselves at risk and definitely taking him from Cwen’s side, Sihtric clasped arms with Finan conveying unspoken meaning before he turned to Cwen.

Quickly, he brought his forehead to meet hers while grasping her hips tightly..

“If tensions rise, stay close by Finan.”

Cwen clasped her hands on either side of his neck and breathed him in for the briefest moment.

“Be safe.”

And he swept silently and quickly from the hall to catch up with his lord.

Tag List: @maggiescarborough @pokeasleepingsmaug @nxrdist @mystic-shadows42 @emilyhufflepufftlk @magravenwrites @lauwrite1225 @morosemagick @thebohemianpenguin @mrsalwayswrite @notyourwildestdream @obipoelover @ecarroll1978 @93xdiagonxalley @nobodys-business-world

#The Last Kingdom #Sihtric #sihtric x oc #finan #Uhtred #osferth #Eadith #Fields of Wildflowers

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jeonqqin · 4 years ago

Text

man up. [m] | pt.4

h. jisung x reader | netflix rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNING: future smut, language, reader being followed at night, not much, Chan’s sexy ass arms?

A/N: the big day!! also there’s a little scene for binnie’s birthday (even though it was yesterday)

▸ request

CHAPTERS: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

—UNEDITED

Your mind was running circles around you, everything a blur.

Talking on the phone with Chan lifted your mood exponentially, but there was still something that ticked in the back of your head. With the way your conversation with Chan ended, you weren’t sure if you should’ve been jumping for joy or hiding away under your covers in hopes that no one would ever find you again.

“So, I was wondering,” His voice drawled over the phone.

You held back the urge to shiver in order to hear exactly what he had to say. Granted the wind had stopped, but the night air was slipping through the thin fabric of your clothes and making up for its absence.

“Yeah?”

You heard Chan chuckle—surprisingly enough it sounded nervous.

“Would you ever date a guy like me?”

And just with one question, you almost fell forward off of the swing.

“What are you saying?” You uttered, eyes staring out at the bright red slide in front of you that had been dulled by the darkness.

Chan cleared his throat, “Do you want to go on a date with me, Y/n?”

You had said yes too quickly, not just in the sense that it was embarrassing, but also because after you hung up, it really occurred to you that you would be going on a date with Bang Chan.

A date.

Had you even been on a date before?

You wrapped your arms around your body as you contemplated the whole situation. It was dark outside despite the street lights, and even then, they were too dim to really be doing their job. But you hardly noticed, too immersed in your own head to worry about the dark or the possibility of meat-heads roaming around looking for their next meal.

Your skin prickled, your subconscious attempting to warn you about the shadow that lurked only a few feet away.

The date. It should be easy; smile, talk to him without vomiting, and be sure not to make a complete fool of yourself in front of the single most attractive man you had ever seen. Piece of cake.

You mentally cursed Minho for possibly scaring you for the rest of your young life. Could you hold it over him if his years of desensitizing you turned you into a lonely cat-lady?

No—he’d already taken that title, and you weren’t sure if the universe was ready to support two financial tragedies within the same family.

The sound of footsteps fell to deaf ears, the lights of the dorms were able to be seen from your place on the street, and there wasn’t a shred of dread in your naive body. Not even when the sound of sneakers padding against tar got closer—too close for comfort had you been paying any attention. Maybe you were too tired, or your head was too preoccupied to focus on the approaching body behind you.

Not until there was a hand wrapping around your mouth and another pinning your arms to your sides. In your shock, you could feel the flex of your aggressor’s biceps—he was strong, and it had your heart stopping in your chest.

You wiggled the best you could in his grip, but the man’s hold was too constricting, and you suddenly wanted to cry. How stupid could you have been to let something like this happen?

Your heart pounded in your chest as you plead against the calloused hand, your legs shaking like jelly. He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear—mint, the one thing you could focus on was that his breath didn’t reek of alcohol like you would’ve assumed.

“Wow…” He released a breath with a small chuckle, and your brows furrowed.

The voice was familiar—

“You really are stupid. Do you realize that you would’ve been so dead if I wanted to like—take advantage of you and dump your body in a river, or something?”

You squirmed out of the stupid stupid strong arms of your stupid stupid ex-friend, you eyes set in a harsh glare as you brought your fists down on his firm chest.

“You fucking pig!” You screeched with rage, fists clenched even when he grabbed your wrists in between fits of laughter. You actually wanted to stab a knife into his eye. “I can’t believe you did that! I thought I was going to die, asshole!”

Changbin snickered with a mocking coo, “I know. Poor baby...”

“You’re a sadistic bastard.”

“Just think—” he released your hands, only to block the oncoming smack that you sent. “You won’t make this mistake again, stupid-head.”

You huffed, wrapping your arms around your body again and continuing forward, your pulse more intense than it had been before. “What if I had gone into cardiac arrest or something? You would’ve been fucked in more ways than one. Do you know what they do to rapists in prison?”

“Y/n,” Changbin chuckled under his breath, meeting your stride easily. “I didn’t rape you, in case you didn’t notice.”

“But if I died, that’s what it would’ve looked like! And suddenly you’re in concrete hell.”

Changbin shook his head. “God—just be more careful next time you decide to walk alone in the middle of the night. Call one of us or something.”

Guilt nawed at your skin, and you sent him a sulky pout. He was right. If something really had happened, you would’ve been fucked. Unless the guy was thinner than a twig and had a shit center of gravity, your chances of getting out of that kind of danger was unlikely. Damn Changbin and his infuriatingly true points.

You let out a groan as the boy beside you casually slung his arm around your shoulders.

“Fine. You’re right. Happy?”

Changbin’s head turned to you and he released another coo, his forehead pressing against yours and successfully annoying the shit out of you. How everyone else dealt with him was a true mystery.

He was supposed to be older than you?

The pitch of his voice raised, “Of course I am.”

You wrenched out of his grip, swatting away his reaching hand and stepping out of his range.

Perhaps there would be a murder tonight.

“Stop being a creep and act like a normal person for once, Bin.”

Without even looking back, you could feel the pout on his lips. But he only let out a quick whine before following after you, his hands stuffed into his jeans.

You had hardly noticed before, but he was dressed strangely—he was in a torn to shit grey t-shirt, multiple splotches of something black plastered across his torso just above the ragged seam of where the shirt ended, holes scattered everywhere exposing glimpses of his firm chest. The jeans weren’t any better, almost completely colored black by the same substance on his shirt, baring rips at the knees and not the ones you get solely for fashion.

“By the way…” You drawled, twisting around to rake your eyes over him one last time. “What were you even doing before this?”

Changbin glanced at his attire and shrugged, the smallest glow of red covering his ears. “I’ve been working on cars for some extra money.”

Your eyebrow raised. “At night?”

“It’s the only time I have free between producing new songs and school.”

Nodding you faced back towards the dark street in front of you.

Changbin had never sparked you as a manual labor kind of guy, let alone someone who could fix cars and get paid for doing it. But after taking a moment to think about it, it made sense. He fit the scene, so to say, and it somehow added to the edgy look he already had going on for him.

You didn’t know as much about your friends as you probably should’ve.

“So you guys actually got the recording room done? Are you and Chan using it now?” You asked nonchalantly, a terrible attempt to slide Chan into the conversation. Changbin must’ve known a few things about Chan that could help you quench your nerves for the upcoming date.

Changbin sent you a sideways look, letting you know that you weren’t as slick as you thought you were.

“Ah, Chan…” He hummed, the two of you finally getting close enough to the university to discern the different buildings. “What’s up with you two?” He asked hesitantly, a hint of a frown on his brow.

“Well—I mean, I like him a lot.” You fumbled for the right words, though you knew that Changbin wasn’t one to rush you. As annoying as he could be, he was a good listener. “And he just asked me out—”

“He did?”

Well, you thought he was a good listeners

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Earlier he asked if I wanted to go out on a date or something—”

“Or something?”

You shoved him to the side, though his heavy body barely moved an inch.

“Would you stop interrupting me? I’m serious.” You huffed, frustrated.

“I am too.”

You froze—huh?

Your eyes searched his for a moment, his words not as comforting as you wanted them to be, instead his questioning only made your stomach twist in more knots than they had been in before. You really didn’t know anything about Chan, and talking to someone who did only made you hesitant about continuing with this first date of yours.

Sure, you weren’t one to believe rumors about people you barely knew—but it was the fact that you barely knew Chan that made you so nervous.

“Well I’m a little surprised that Chan asked you out.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“Uh…” Changbin paused, searching for his next words carefully with a contemplative hum. “It’s nothing bad. I mean, Chan’s one of the best people I know.”

“But…?”

He stopped to wait for you to run your student ID along the sensor, listening to the automatic click of the door and using it as a stall for time. He was trying to find the right way to word what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to blindside you, nor did he want to sabotage his friend by telling you something that might steer you away.

He waited for you to take a step inside the dorms before continuing with a hushed voice.

“Chan is… very selfless let’s say. He doesn’t really take the time to date per se. He’s work oriented. Not to say he hasn’t had girlfriends before, but they never really—”

“Became anything?”

That was what you had been contemplating. If the date went wrong, could you talk to Chan afterwards? Would he still be that person you could call if you wanted to step away from the world? You couldn’t find yourself feeling upset if that happened to be the outcome.

But with the small look of suspicion that Changbin sent, his brow curling upwards, you quickly backpedaled.

“He mentioned something about it while we were on the phone.” You rushed to save yourself.

Taking your answer without question, he stopped. You were both standing outside of your room, the quiet hallway encasing the both of you and chilling you to the bone more than the night air had. Changbin bit his tongue.

“Chan is an amazing friend. But I’ve never really seen him as a boyfriend before.” He sighed, scratching his cheek. “And as much of a little shit you are… I care about you enough to want you to be happy.”

“Is this you warning me?”

“No.” His mouth formed a thin line, he really had no idea how to word anything. It was beginning to frustrate him. “Just be aware that he isn’t the most observant guy when it comes to himself, so be patient with the guy.”

Okay, that helped you none whatsoever.

You sighed, pushing your dorm door open and nodding finally for Changbin.

“Well, thank you, Bin. For walking me and all that…”

Your gratitude was pitiful, but Changbin smiled wide nonetheless, glad that he could help you out despite his advice being absolutely terrible.

“Anytime, Y/n.” He ruffled your hair before you could stop him. “But next time, call me before you decide to be stupid and walk alone agian, okay?”

You smiled.

“Yeah. I promise, Bin. Thanks—seriously.”

As you closed the door, you missed the way Changbin’s lip quirked, his ears once again shining a red in the dim lighting of the hallway. He chuckled, shaking his head.

He wished both Chan and Jisung luck—you really were a handful.

“So this is a date?”

You had absolutely no idea what to say, your nervous gaze on the road in front of you as Chan glanced over at you from his place behind the wheel of his beloved Subaru Crosstrek—he had gone on a cute spiel about how he managed to scrounge up enough money from producing his tracks to afford the down payment on the car. It was cute only because he giggled every time he mentioned some miniscule detail that wasn’t necessary for the development of the story.

He always apologized when he got off track, but those were your favorite parts.

And you still had no idea what to say.

“Yeah, Y/n. A date. Have you ever been on one of those before?” He joked, taking another turn into yet another neighborhood.

He had to have gone down at least four streets already—

“Does a slow dance at a mediocre prom count?”

“A what?”

You snorted, feeling the telltale heat of your cheeks reddening. You were such a loser, the best you could do was tell him about your failed relationships?

“I mean, Jung Wooyoung was pretty hot, so I guess it could count. Granted, Minho stepped in before he could kiss me at the end of the song.”

“You’re kidding.” He looked close to ripping his cheeks with how wide his smile was stretching.

His eyes flickered to you and a shiver ran down your spine at the way he took one hand off the wheel and leaned against the center console. You were either terrified of him crashing or really turned on by the way his biceps bulged at the movement.

You cleared your throat, “Minho was always really adamant about keeping me away from all the funny business.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately not. My brother sucks.”

Chan burst out laughing. “That’s why he pulled that, ‘what are your intentions with my baby sister’ act?”

“He didn’t.”

“He did. But he backed off so quickly, I was convinced that it was a joke.”

You nearly choked, your eyes widening as you suddenly threw yourself around to look at him, unable to feel surprised at the way he was already looking at you with a charming smile.

“He did what?”

“Yeah,” Chan shrugged, shifting back to look at the road. “I asked him why it mattered and he just kind of backed off.”

That was right—Minho was scared of Chan.

You would never forget that fun fact for as long as you lived, and it was all thanks to Bang Chan. It really had you rethinking the whole reason why you were nervous in the first place. Chan was the only person in your life that had managed to get rid of stress rather than add to it, and you were obviously worried over nothing. Chan was amazing.

And you were crazy.

You laughed, catching Chan’s attention, his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips without you noticing. How you had managed to have him whipped within a matter of days was a complete mystery to him. But there he was, staring at your lips and risking his damn life while doing so. Chan was hopeful, he wanted things to go well this time, and he was going to do everything he could to make sure of that.

“Where are you taking me, you maniac?” You giggled in exasperation as he took yet another turn into a neighborhood, house stacked upon house.

Sure, it was nice to drive around with him, but you were beginning to get antsy. Even more so as Chan continued to look over at you and smirk, his smile as infuriating as it was attractive.

“We’re almost there, hold on.”

“That doesn’t tell me where—”

Turning down a dead-end, Chan lifted his hand to your mouth with an emphasized “shhh”.

Maybe he was a maniac and he was planning on killing you as soon as you reached the end of the street. You definitely wouldn’t be able to find your way back to the main road if he tried, so it was definitely a possibility.

“Don’t worry about it.” He hushed.

With a small scoff, you puckered your lips in a pout and they briefly brushed against the palm of his hand. With the action, your eyes widened as his head snapped your direction. Immediately, your lips pulled into a tight line, your stomach tying up in knots as he dropped his hand and let it fall to your thigh, causing your whole body to go ridged. What was wrong with you?

Chan chuckled, patting your thigh in an attempt to dissolve your tenseness, but it only proved to make your clothes feel much tighter than they had been before. You were physically going to melt into the seat with how hot you were getting, and you sure as hell hoped you weren’t sweating as much as you thought you were.

But the feeling of his hand wasn’t unpleasant—it was warm, but not so much that it was uncomfortable, which was surprising considering how your skin was close to melting off the bone. It simply rested there, occasionally he drummed a nonexistent beat against it with his first two fingers, though you suspected that he hadn’t even noticed that he had been doing that.

Without you realizing, he pulled the car into park, his eyes amused as he watched you stare at his hand for a little longer.

Something else—you definitely were.

“We’re here.” Chan said, lifting his hand away from your thigh to pull the key from the ignition.

You weren’t upset that he had moved his hand, but you couldn’t deny that disappointment had started to bubble up.

Looking out your window, you noticed that you were, in fact, at the end of the dead-end road. But instead of a dense thicket of trees or a mountain of concrete blocking it off, there sat a decrepit and grey building. The maroon of the bricks had been worn and chipped, and the large barn looking doors were rusted and close to falling off their hinges. You can tell that it had once been beautiful with the large stone bird watching over on a centered pedestal.

Chan opened his door to get out and you followed, despite how strange it might’ve been that he took you to an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere.

“What is this?” You asked, almost shell shocked at the sheer size of the building as you both stepped closer.

“It’s an old fire station.”

Old didn’t do the place justice—every new fire station you had seen was pristine and white, large open door garages lining the first floor. The one in front of you was nothing like the ones in town.

“I used to live in this neighborhood before I moved to Sydney. I was very young and don’t really remember much about it, but I do remember this place.” He smiled, looking up at the two storied building. “When I came back I never expected it to be still standing after fifteen years. I thought the two would’ve torn it down and built a convenience store there or something, but nope, it’s still here.”

It was nice to see his face light up while talking about something he cared about. It was endearing.

He then grabbed your hand with a small wink and dragged you forward, though you didn’t put up much of a fight at all. Every part of you screamed about how nice his hand felt around yours, how his palms weren’t too calloused to be rough but enough to want them all over the rest of your body. His pale skin pretty with the contrast of his raised veins. Veiny hands were nice… You really were just reverting back to your horny high school self, weren’t you?

You cleared your throat.

“But why did you bring me here?” You questioned, looking warily at the back of his head.

You weren’t scared, but you were almost certain that a building that was decades old wasn’t a normal date site.

“Why not?” Chan shrugged, hoping to god that you couldn’t see just how terrified he was.

“Maybe because I was expecting to go watch a movie or go to a restaurant?”

He glanced back with a raised brow. “Do you want to do those things?”

“I’d rather chew off my foot,” you admitted, catching him off guard for a moment. “But I’m trying to make you feel like the weird one here.”

Weird one indeed. He had spent the entire night before without sleep, not coming up with a new track, but thinking of where exactly to bring you. He contemplated how to explain to you the reason why he was so exhausted and jittery was because he didn’t want you to leave the date thinking that he was some average guy. Chan didn’t want you to think he was boring. So he could be weird if it meant you wanted to see him again.

You shared a smile, both of your nerves fading away with each passing second. Of course, Chan had nothing to worry about.

He proceeded to pull you through the old rickety door of the station, completely ignoring the way the visible slivers of his chest flexed when he tugged the door open with one good yank. Now that you were actually thinking about it, his outfit was one of the best you’d seen him in; a simple black muscle tee topped with a heavy denim jacket, and his jeans whitewashed and ripped.

It was simple but effective considering you couldn’t keep your eyes off the strips of flesh that peaked behind his jacket. If only the autumn breeze had taken a day off.

The further the two of you got into the building, the more excited Chan looked. His eyes lit up and there was suddenly a bounce in his step. Not to mention the way his grip on your hand tightened to the point where he was nearly cutting off the circulation. But it was nice nonetheless. You didn’t have the heart to be upset with him.

Your eyes flew around to all the different old contraptions that must’ve been shiny in their prime. With torn hoses all over the place, and precariously placed pipes, you had no idea whether to be amazed that they hadn’t succumbed to the elements or terrified that if you took one wrong step you would fall and get impaled.

Looking over at Chan, you giggled as he began to unravel a wound up hose, momentarily releasing your hand to act like a complete child.

“So what was your plan when we got here? Get me in a secluded place so you could tie me up and kill me?” You teased, offering him a smile.

Chan wanted to do two of those three things—that was for sure.

“What? You don’t want to explore this magnificent building with me?” He asked despite himself.

“So you didn’t plan some elaborate picnic with candles and fancy homemade French food?”

Chan paused for a moment, lips fighting a smile. You had built up quite the impression on him from the very moment you two met. The hours of preparation was for naught, and Chan could care less.

He hummed, “Well if you mean a blanket on the floor and take-out, then yeah. No candles though. I have a bad feeling that if we were to light any fire within ten miles of this place it would turn to dust. Which would be pretty ironic considering it is a fire station—”

“Are you rambling?”

Chan froze, mouth open to deny your question, but found that it wasn’t completely false and shut it.

“...it’s probably cold too.” He added lastly.

You smiled.

“Sounds good to me.”

You then proceeded to struggle your way up a flight of unstable spiral stairs with Chan close behind—so close that his arms were almost completely around you. He assured you that it was only so he wouldn’t be at fault if you fell. But it felt nice whenever his chest brushed lightly against your back, so you let his lame excuse slide.

The food was, in fact, cold. But it was still good since you really couldn’t go wrong with traditional Korean food.

And so the rest of the evening played out, the two of you sharing pleasantries and learning about one another, with many cracked jokes about your brother and his friends, only strategically avoiding Jisung all together.

Chan went on about his story, how he had two younger siblings back in Australia and a set of loving parents that believed in each and every one of his dreams as he grew up, and supported his pursuit of becoming a producer. You bit your tongue, keeping your questions of “do you miss them?” and “do you still see them?” to yourself. Still, Chan seemed happy enough, you thought. Considering you would be miserable if you had to spend your time with someone who complained and sulked the whole time. You were glad he could talk about his family without falling into a pit of missing them.

That date was pretty perfect, despite its oddities.

Who knew someone could be a by-the-book romantic and an original dork at the same time?

Your own thoughts had you chuckling into your water, almost making you cough, but thankfully Chan hadn’t noticed, his attention too zeroed in on all the food in front of him.

“Oh shit—I forgot all about that thing!” He suddenly exclaimed, his eyes locked on a rusty fireman’s pole that ran up into a hole in the floor. Chan hadn’t even finished his (second) bowl of food when he jumped up and ran up to the death trap. The thing didn’t even have any padding at the bottom to protect someone from breaking their legs, and he was excited about that?

Suddenly, you let out a laugh—it was the kind that comes out unexpectedly and makes a loud, unattractive noise and it surprised you both. Your hand clamped down over your mouth on impulse before your shocked expression broke, a swarm of giggles leaving your covered lips and forcing a pink tinge over your cheeks. Chan could only stare at you in awe, trying to think of everything else that could beat your laugh in the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, but he came up blank.

“Come down the pole with me.”

His words had you freezing mid-laugh, eyes wide.

“What? No way am I doing that. What if I get pole burn?”

“Here,” Chan threw his jacket over your shoulders, surprising you with the flood of warmth cascading around you. “Now you can’t get pole burn.”

You pushed your arms through the arms of the jacket, silently relishing in the warm weight.

“Ah, look at you Romeo. I see that you’re trying to make up for all the years I missed going on dates. How romantic.”

“I try.”

With a wink, he was grabbing onto the pole all of a sudden and wrapping his legs around it. You barely had time to stare at the image of his thick biceps curling around the pole before he was descending down it with a laugh of his own. You leaned forward to watch him hit the floor, his knees bending to absorb the impact. He smiled up at you, the sight blinding.

“Your turn!”

“Did I ever mention that I’m kind of allergic to bad ideas?”

Chan snickered, leaning his hands on the pole and shaking it to show you just how “sturdy” the thing was. The wiggle and creak didn’t set you at ease, that was for sure.

“Oh, come on, Y/n. You just watched me do it!” Was his genius response.

The night was beginning to just become you counting how many times Chan said or did something that made you think he was a child.

“Okay, I just don’t understand why you want me to go down this damn pole! Is it some right of passage or something? Do you only go out with the girls who have the balls to do something this stupid?”

“Slide down here and find out.”

He got you there. You really did want to find out.

So you bit the inside of your cheek and wrapped your shaky hands around the rust crusted pole. How Chan managed to do so so easily without sleeves was baffling and a little sexy for whatever stupid reason. You had a thick layer of denim protecting you, and you still felt like you were going to be filleted open.

“Don’t think about it,” he encouraged with a soft voice. “Just jump. I’ve got you.”

And at the words of a poet, you squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, taking a step off the wooden floor and letting gravity pull you down. You could hear the rust tug and catch on the fabric of Chan’s jacket, but only for a second, because it only lasted a second before you felt hands grab your sides and pillow your impact. A surge of adrenaline had you breathing heavy as Chan cheered lightly in your ear.

“There. You did it.” He poked your forehead with a chuckle, getting you to open your blown eyes. “You have successfully completed the initiation.”

Your heart felt heavy and beat hard against your ribs as he straightened you out, hands finding purchase in his jacket. Subtly he was admiring how you looked in his clothes, but he would never admit that sappy fact to anyone.

You smiled; admittedly shakily. “Ah, yes. Validation. My favorite.”

Chan admired how you could keep releasing quips despite your fear. You weren’t one to be deterred, that was for sure.

“You have an unlimited supply of sarcasm in you, huh?”

“I don’t know. It hasn’t run out yet.”

He smiled and you smiled, it was a good moment—the best of the day. A moment where you were glad you listened to him and literally took the leap. Ready to take another one, your eyes dropped to his lips and his dropped to yours.

And he finally leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours.

You weren’t completely caught off guard, but you definitely were. His hand that wasn’t preoccupied with fiddling with your fingers found your face, palm cupping your jaw and urging your head to tilt to meet his kiss better. It was gentle, as you had expected from Chan, and you were thankful for that.

His lips were softer than you expected and you prayed that the hand that held your cheek wouldn't be able to feel the way your face was burning. The way he intertwined your fingers was more intimate than the kiss itself and you couldn’t help but feel yourself getting light-headed. You lost yourself to the way your shared breaths echoed around the large room every time your lips separated only to reconnect again immediately.

Your first kiss—well, your first real kiss. Surely that one you had shared with Kang Chanhee back in your first year of high school didn’t count. You had only gotten away with it since Minho was home sick that day, anyway.

It was much warmer than your last kiss, that was for sure. His jacket kept you shielded from the cold air and his body secreted a natural heat that had you pressing closer, which in turn sent him a signal to push forward as well.

Suddenly, his teeth bit down on the sensitive flesh of your lip, pulling a taut gasp from your throat.

The noise had Chan withholding a groan, pushing him to break the passionate exchange, his hazy eyes meeting your wide ones.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, voice small and unsure.

He could see the way your lips shined with not only your spit but his own. In some sick and twisted way, he was pleased to see the redness that the kiss brought to your puckered lips. It was satisfying. It was a sort of claim, and he was proud to hold it.

"Nothing. Just admiring my work." He grinned.

You hardly had time to register his words when the hand wrapped around yours was used to yank you forward, Chan’s mouth finding yours once again in a quick peck, leaving you just about a hundred degrees warmer than you originally felt.

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mochis-interlude · 4 years ago

Text

wristbound || giyuu

this is just a little thank you for 100 followers. i hope you’ll enjoy + feeback is always appreciated! <3

↠ pairing. giyuu x fem! reader

↠ genre. fluff, angst

↠ warnings. memory loss/amnesia, minor character death, murder, graphic scenes, blood, language, implied sex work (nothing explicit)

↠ words. 11.2k

↠ summary. the little red bracelet you made when the two of you were nothing but kids, it reminded giyuu that he was always tied to your wrist.

not even your sudden disappearance could snap the wristband in two.

"[Name] didn't cause any trouble, did she?" Your brother, Haruto, was out of breath as he took a seat next to two raven-haired women who were your best friend's mother and his sister. The mother laughed, shaking her head as she already knew what happened; Haruto had once again lost sight of you and you ran away to them. Ran away to Giyuu, more specifically.

"Not at all. By now, you should know that we love having [Name] over," she said, her blue eyes setting on the two children playing in the garden amongst flowers and butterflies. The mother's gaze softened with each passing second, heart feeling full and hopeful for her son's future.

Tsutako's eyes followed her mom's line of sight curiously and found her younger brother proudly showing you the butterfly he caught by sheer luck. However, your eyes were glued to Giyuu's face instead of the butterfly. The corners of her mouth tugged upwards as she imagined a future for her younger brother where you were by his side through it all. "They'd make a great couple when they're older, no?"

"Pardon me?!" Voice high-pitched, Haruto choked on his spit and ended up coughing into the sleeves of his haori. You with that boy? Impossible. Just after you were born, he promised father to take care of you, to protect you! What could a boy like Giyuu do besides catching pretty butterflies?

Haruto was about to protest, his overprotective side over you kicking in, but he was left with an open mouth and every word dying on his tongue when your laughter bounced throughout the garden. It was a rare sound he usually didn't hear. The most Haruto would get out of you was a chuckle and a half-hearted smile which you put on like a carefully molded mask.

You were so small and so, so young when your eyes witnessed a monster eating your parents, blood covering the place that used to be such a loving and warm home. Crimson stained the walls and the floor, organs lying about like furniture. Haruto was able to chase the monster into the early sunrise and brought its end.

Haruto never thought you'd remember that event.

Yet there you were, vibrantly laughing with the Tomioka boy until tears would brim your eyes, until you used up all of your energy and fell asleep in Haruto's strong arms. Maybe being with Giyuu was the equivalent of salve for your soul.

Maybe, Tsutako was right. When the two of you grew up, you'd make a fine couple.

"Yeah..they would," he finally agreed.

"Here! I made these for us!" Your small hands revealed two crimson bracelets made of simple thread that you had gotten in town with your big brother. A toothy grin stretched your lips apart, revealing that one of your front teeth was missing; pride and joy was written all over your face.

With wide eyes, Giyuu reached for one of the bracelets, looked at the gift and then back at you. "Why? It's no one's birthday today," the raven-haired kid said with an innocent tilt of his head. It wasn't that Giyuu didn't appreciate your gift, it was quite the opposite! But he also knew that your brother made just enough money to bring food to the table, so he couldn't help but feel guilty that you spent money on a gift.

"So you never forget me, silly!" Your laugh filled the garden rich with various flowers and vegetables growing from the earth. Taking the bracelet from Giyuu's grasp, you carefully tied the simple thread around his wrist until it casually sat against his skin and wouldn't slip off.

Forgetting you sounded ridiculous to Giyuu ㅡ why would he ever forget about his clumsy best friend? He didn't quite understand, and yet, maybe his heart did, because without realizing it, Giyuu tied your own bracelet around your wrist. The knot was far from perfect, but it was enough.

"Besides, you must always remember that I'm never far and always with you, okay?" A blush sat upon your cheeks as you intertwined your pinky finger with Giyuu and brought them up to eye-level, tying him into a promise of a lifetime. Your heart desired nothing more than to spend a life filled with your best friend and your big brother.

"P-promised.." Giyuu's heart fluttered, his face heated up.

But happiness was a sandcastle.

It only took 3 months for the waves to come crashing down and take the lives of not only your brother, but Giyuu's family, as well, leaving the two of you orphaned.

However, just because you were a girl, didn't mean that Urokodaki went any easier on you. How often had you found yourself getting knocked on your back, although all you could do was blink? Incredible, you thought to yourself each and every day, even challenging Giyuu and Sabito to practice your falls and build up strength during the night until your body was bruised, possibly even ached at the mere thought to move any more.

It was a fortunate stroke of luck that Urokodaki found Giyuu and you wandering through a small village in search of shelter, taking the two of you in along with a boy named Sabito. He raised the three of you into fine swordsmen while also making sure that you had enough to eat, a place to sleep and everything that came along with a place called home.

Despite the harsh training, you always had fun and treasured each day you got to spend with the two boys who were like brothers to you. It was the small moments making you laugh and suffer alike; like Urokodaki throwing Giyuu into the river to "become water" or how the old man smacked Sabito's stomach whenever the tension in his stomach wasn't enough for the breathing techniques.

One night before the final selection, the warmth of flames and the smell of soup filled the space just outside of Urokodaki's small home with the three kids gathered around the small fire. It was a starry night filled with an exceptionally rich moon, the view accompanied by the sound of laughter.

"They say you are what you eat but [Name] still isn't soup," Sabito chuckled as you slurped your tenth bowl of soup empty until no drop remained in the pristine bowl. The peach-haired boy was convinced that you had a bottomless pit as a stomach, he was always astonished at the amount you managed to eat in one sitting.

"You say that like I ate a lot," you pouted at Sabito's small poke, but never took it seriously. Shoulders casually shrugged it off while you were basking in the warmth the small fire provided. Although it was far from being cold, the breeze in the mountains was still chilly and liked to nip at your cheeks.

Next to you, Giyuu laughed and the glow of the flames dipped his face in an orange hue, making your heart jump within your ribcage. Painfully, you had come to realize that as you grew up with Giyuu, the boy made your heart flutter in a way which certainly wasn't fair. Perhaps..you did have a crush on your best friend, but you'd never say it out loud.

"[Name], you ate more than Sabito and I combined." Giyuu's laughter died down as he brought his own bowl to his lips and sipped the steaming broth Urokodaki had cooked just for the three of you.

Whenever everyone gathered to have dinner and Sabito would be amazed at your appetite, it reminded Giyuu of all the times you'd come over to his family's place and eat with them. Haruto would scold you for eating too much, Mother would laugh and gladly make you another plate while Giyuu would always give you the veggies he didn't like.

"It's called having a healthy appetite, Giyuu. Your points are invalid," you declared with a dismissive wave of your hand and snickered as you saw your best friend's shoulders slump at your words.

Peaceful moments like these were rare with the training you went through daily and the upcoming final selection made every day a little bit more tense. Of course, you were aware of Sabito's and Giyuu's polished skills and had confidence in your own swordsmanship, but it was a fact that no one knew what would happen in those seven days.

"[Name] isn't wrong about this." Urokodaki put some extra wood into the fire, flames licking at the bork and effectively melting the layer away. The Tengu mask made it impossible to look at Urokodaki's face, but judging by his tone, the former Hashira had to wear a serious expression on his face.

"Let me tell you one thing. Just like humans, demons gain their strength from the humans they consume. The more a demon has eaten, the stronger it is." Everyone listened to Urokodaki's words with perked ears and curious eyes as if they could study the information like a book. "Some demons devoured so many that their bodies are deformed. It ranges from mere horns to multiple body parts and extreme growth spurts."

"If they're stronger, their neck also gets tougher to cut, right?" Sabito still cupped his empty bowl to warm up his hands. He didn't sound nervous at all, if anything, he was nothing but confident in himself which was something you admired. Sabito was like a strong boulder that one could always rely on.

Urokodaki nodded his head. "Yes."

Giyuu saw the way you unconsciously bit your bottom lip, how your nails dug themselves into the ground and fingers occasionally fumbled with a bit of grass. Whenever you started feeling insecure, you'd always bite your lip or the inside of your cheek, a habit of yours which Giyuu had caught on to years ago.

As Giyuu got older, he grew more hesitant at holding your hand in a reassuring way. Although Sabito would never tease him about it, there was something special tickling in his belly whenever he reached for your hand. It made red rush to his cheeks, but the smile you gave him afterwards was worth the embarrassment he felt.

"Thank you," you mouthed, Giyuu exhaled shakily.

You made his heart feel too funny with the tiniest of things.

Footwear left deep prints in the muddy earth, high trees and thick bushes made it hard to see what was next, but you had to push through whatever lurked around the next corner.

After all, this was the second day of the final selection.

It was all about surviving 7 days in a forest filled to the brim with demons who were close to starvation. Kill or be killed, it was.

You were lucky not to have encountered any nasty demon and only had to worry about what you should eat next, but you thought of it as a bad omen. There was no way in hell the three of you could have so much luck and even if that was the case, it felt like those two days, devoid of any fight, took up all the luck you were supposed to have in one lifetime.

"Watch out, it's slippery!" Sabito ran down a small hill and nearly fell, but caught his balance just in time. He swore he saw a squirrel which he could cook later, but the animal sure was quick to run away from being eaten.

You were right behind Sabito, but much more careful than he was and slid down the hill on instinct. It had rained the entire day, so of course, the ground would be slippery, muddy and filled with puddles.

"Ah!"

Looking back, you saw Giyuu sitting on the wet ground and pressing a hand to his forehead. You went back, wanting to see what had gone wrong, but as you got closer, you saw blood severely dripping from his forehead, over his eyelids and down his cheeks. Not even his sword was to be seen anywhere; he possibly lost it just now.

"Giyuu, can you walk?" You offered him your hand which the boy gratefully took, but he couldn't seem to properly pull himself to his feet, his gaze seemed fuzzy, unfocused.

Scanning the area, you saw a small rock with fresh splatters of blood on it. So that was why..

A heavy trauma to the head. No wonder Giyuu was somewhere between unconsciousness and reality.

"Don't worry, we got this." Calmly, you examined the bleeding wound and pushed the uneven fringe out of the way to get a better look at it. Giyuu hissed when your finger brushed over the injury. "Sabito, can you watch out for demons? Just in case."

Sabito pulled his sword out of its sheath and protectively stood in front of Giyuu and you, one arm stretched out to his side to block the view of you patching up his friend. "Got it."

What were you supposed to do without any bandages? You scanned the area in hopes of finding something, anything that could slow down the bleeding, but all you saw was earth, leaves and some bushes. Stupid, to think that you'd magically see a pharmacy in the woods.

Then, your eyes settled on the sleeve of your haori. It took you no longer than a moment to unsheath your sword, cut through the fabric and tightly tie it around Giyuu's forehead who groaned in pain. "I'm sorry," you mumbled and finished the improvised banades up with a tight knot.

You were about to help Giyuu back on his feet, but at once, the ground shook beneath you in rhythmical periods.

"There's something!" Sabito breathed more to himself, but you were able to catch it with your senses suddenly heightened by the incoming rush of adrenaline. Giyuu still applied pressure to his injury, his sight switching from complete nothingness to what was happening around him.

Instantaneously, your eyes widened in horror at the demon that was trudging towards the three of you and giggled as it swallowed another kid that he managed to eat.

He was deformed to the bone, several hands hugged its tall, green body. Eyes, disgustingly big, stared at Sabito, then you and Giyuu before his hands began scratching at his skin in an anxious, excited manner.

"Ohh! Urokodaki is feeding me even more kids than usual this time! I bet the three of you are delicious! I can only imagine the face he'll make when three students won't make it back to him!"

Sabito planted both of his feed into the ground, the tip of his sword pointed at the demon's neck. "[Name], you protect Giyuu. I'll lop off the head." As soon as the words left Sabito's mouth, Giyuu was about to protest but stumbled back into your body, your arms catching him before he could trip, again.

"Be careful." You nodded at Sabito and took a defensive stance right in front of Giyuu, holding the blade right next to your head while your hands were grasping the handle tightly. As blue eyes watched your back, watched his two best friends fight, Giyuu felt as helpless as the night his family got massacred.

All he could do was watch.

Perversely large hands dashed at Sabito who leapt through those which didn't radiate murderous intent and cut off the hands aiming for his body. He jumped on one of the demon's arms, dodging a fist coming his way by ducking low and sliding along the green skin.

You blocked a fist with the help of your sword and got pushed back a few meters before you twisted the handle in your grasp, abruptly slicing through the fist from below. "Are you okay, Giyuu?!"

As much as you wanted to take a look back and check up on him, you absolutely couldn't take your eyes off the battle or else, the demon could get Giyuu or even the both of you.

While you were stepping in puddles of blood, cutting those disgusting hands off and had to focus on not taking a lethal hit, you still worried about Giyuu. It made his heart clench painfully in his chest. If only he knew where his sword was, then he'd force himself to fight alongside Sabito and you!

"Don't worry about me, [Name]!"

You were so busy concentrating on what was happening in front of you that you failed to notice the one hand underneath your feet. Before you could even think about using a breathing technique or leaping up into the air, the hand wrapped itself around your ankle and threw you away like you were nothing but a fly.

"[Name]!" Saito and Giyuu shouted your name in unison, watching in horror as you flew farther away with each second.

You desperately stretched one of your arms out in the desperate hope of being able to grab on to a branch and get back to the fight, but it was wishful thinking.

"I'll come back!" You cried out until your vocal chords protested and nearly gave in. The air in your lungs became needles. "Until then, survive, got it?! You must survive!"

"Whatever you do, you've got to survive!" Hands clinging to the katana you carried with you, you screamed at the top of your lungs one last time. Bit by bit, your friends seemed to become dots. "Survive! Sabito! Giyuu!"

Sabito clenched his jaw, teeth grinding against one another as anger bubbled deep within his heart and threatened to spill like an overflowing sink.

He charged at the demon with a yell and got so very close to the neck, ready to chop it off when his blade suddenly snapped into two.

Giyuu watched in horror as the demon used Sabito's surprised state to his advantage and smashed his friend's head in.

All he could do was watch.

All he could do was run.

Agonizingly, your body collided with the hard ground and filled your mouth with blood, several cracking sounds travelled throughout your body like electricity. As you gasped for air, you nearly choked on your own blood and coughed it out, a crimson puddle lingering underneath you.

You didn't know where exactly you were nor did you know how long it'd take you to get back to your friends, but you had to find a way. No matter how much your body ached, no matter how loudly every fiber of your body screamed at you to stop, you couldn't.

It was through pure will that you managed to bury the tips of your fingers into the dirt and drag yourself to your blade lying a few meters in front of you. Your view was blurry, but you still managed to make out that the Nichirin blade Urokodaki had given you had snapped in half and it had you mentally laughing.

He was going to break your bones, wasn't he?

"Just a little bit.." You croaked out with your hand desperately reaching for the handle of the katana. Just a little bit more, just a few more centimeters and the handle would be back in your broken hand, but just before you could even touch it, your arm limply fell to the ground. As much as you wanted to move, forced yourself to go that one extra step, your body didn't listen.

Gradually, black hugged the corners of your view and the ability to hear slowly faded into nothing. No longer could you feel the ground below you or smell the scent of the trees surrounding you; opaque came to envelope you and drag you to the depths of unconsciousness.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, dampening the earth below you and eventually soaking the collar of the haori you wore. You had promised Urokodaki to come back, you had promised to live a long life, you had promised to stay by Sabito's and Giyuu's side and now, you couldn't even promise to move your finger.

"Giyuu.. Sabito.. Forgive me, but I won't make it back.."

The last thing you saw was the moon reflected in the broken blade and the red bracelet firmly wrapped around your wrist.

Three days had been spent looking for you in hopes of finding you only injured, but still alive. Three days without a clue of where you could be, but Giyuu clung to the slim hope of you lying somewhere in these cursed woods, unconscious but well.

It was that thread of hope that kept his hand glued to the blade, kept his head up and forced his gaze to look ahead.

Feet had run through countless rough patches until blisters hurt Giyuu, but he simply ran through them until his feet got sore and he would be damned if he stopped running at that very moment. After all, persistence and determination would pay off, right? The strong-willed would always be rewarded after going through hell and back.

Nearing a river, Giyuu spotted a broken katana as well as smudges of blood on the ground and immediately slid down the small hill he was on. In his rush, he stumbled over his feet and fell to his knees right next to the blade which he knew was yours.

The thread of hope finally snapped.

Frantically, he scanned the area for any sign of you being alive, but all he found was the dried puddle of blood and the snapped Nichirin blade Urokodaki had given you just before heading off for this damned final selection.

With shaking fingers, Giyuu picked up the handle of the sword, hot tears streaming down his face. "[Name]..?" His voice was fragile, on the verge of breaking with every second spent in deafening silence. Giyuu couldn't find it in him to get up, his knees felt like broken mirrors which would stab into his flesh and force him to kneel, regardless of what he desperately wanted to do.

"Please, this isn't funny!" The raven-haired boy called out and tears began blurring his vision, sniffles and choked back sobs rocked his body. "[Name]!" Giyuu hugged the handle of your katana to his chest as he curled up into himself and sobbed into the new day that had just begun.

Why did the universe take away every person he loved so dearly?

First, it was his family, then Sabito and you that got ripped from his grasp, lives he treasured more than anything else, people who he would've died for.

"[Name].. You promised to come back.." The boy murmured to no one and let his eyes travel to the wristband you had made so many years ago. It was physical proof that you were always with him and never far, that he would never forget you and that your lives were intertwined like the sun and the moon.

"Give me [Name] back.."

It was at this moment that a Demon Hunter of higher rank called out to a whimpering Giyuu and brought him back to where the final selection started, a place filled with beautifully blooming wisteria.

Everyone came back.

Everyone except for you and Sabito.

How was Giyuu supposed to face Urokodaki after this?

Lead flowed through every single vein as Giyuu dragged himself back to Urokodaki's home, body heavy with the strain of surviving for 7 days straight, but compared to the gilt gnawing away at his heart, it was bearable.

If only he hadn't gotten injured, then maybe Sabito would still be alive, standing right next to him with an equally aching body but still smiling through the pain because they would've made it.

If only Giyuu had gotten to the river a bit earlier, you'd be swooning over Urokodaki's food and excitedly tell the elder man about all the achievements and experiences you gained. You, too, would be alive and smiling.

The young boy stopped dead in his tracks as his blue eyes spotted Urokodaki chopping up some wood with an axe which the former Hashira dropped when his gaze fell upon Giyuu.

Sadness lingered in Urokodaki's nose and was quick to mix with relief of still being alive, yet Giyuu reeked of regret, grief and sorrow. He couldn't blame the young boy. Urokodaki knew how attached Giyuu was to Sabito and you. The three of you would always train together, share food among one another like you were siblings and cut worries in half simply by being present.

Giyuu was desperately trying to bite back new sobs and tears, since Sabito would be the one to say that a man should suffer in silence. On the other hand, there was you who looked so upset when he once tried to hide an injury from you.

"Stop acting tough." You had once said.

The entire sky came crashing down on Giyuu as he felt his teacher's arms wrapping around him to welcome him home, to express gratefulness that he made it back.

"Sabito and [Name]!" Giyuu could no longer hold his tears at bay, they freely rolled down his cheek like waves crashed into the shore. It was too much and yet not enough. "Urokodaki-san! They.. They..!" His voice broke a little more with each word that Giyuu tried to force out of his throat, but the lump of sorrow cut through his vocal chords.

"I'm glad you're back," was all Urokodaki managed to say and he hoped it'd take a bit of weight off the young boy's shoulders. He feared that if he tried to speak any more, he would cry more than he already was, as well. During the time as a teacher, Urokodaki had lost so many of his students who grew on him ㅡ Sabito, Giyuu and you were no exception.

Sadness poked around deeply in his heart, but it was Urokodaki's duty to make sure that his student wouldn't be overcome by his current despair. He knew Giyuu would be able to overcome his sorrow and grow into a good person.

But first, time needed to heal the wound which was still bleeding so heavily.

Giyuu rubbed his eyes dry with the sleeve of his haori, took off the small bag he carried on his back and showed Urokodaki the broken blade which had belonged to you. "Do you.. Do you think it can be fixed?"

Urokodaki took the two parts into his hands and was surprised at how jaded the blade was. It didn't even cut his finger like it was supposed to and the color had disappeared from the sword like it had never been wielded by anyone in the first place. "That can be arranged. I'll ask Haganezuka."

Two weeks passed when Haganezuka arrived with two swords in his hands and nearly lost his mind when Giyuu said that he wasn't a dual wielder and only needed one blade.

"You little..! What do you mean you can't wield both?! It'd be disgraceful not to wield both Nichirin blades!" Haganezuka screeched loud enough for his voice to echo through every corner of Mount Sagiri. It took so long to make the broken sword look like it had never been broken and this brat didn't even think about testing it out!

Giyuu never pulled the blade out of the sheath as you were the one who should do it and witness the change of colors with your own eyes. "I'm sorry." It wasn't necessary to let the swords smith in on the details when he was a stranger. A weird stranger, at that.

"Sorry doesn't cut it!"

Despite the strange encounter with Haganezuka who was oddly dedicated to his craft, as Giyuu would put it, the sword was always held close to his heart. It was a reminder of the life Sabito and you gifted him, that he should work harder to be able to protect those around him.

When Giyuu climbed through the ranks and was able to afford his own estate, the first thing he had hung up was the sword you fought with.

It was 8 years later when bare feet danced on the wooden floor like water flowed through the river. No unnecessary steps, elegance connected every single move like stars made up beautiful constellations which left people in awe each and every time.

Several women watched with parted lips and sparkling eyes as this person was a constellation herself, someone they could learn and profit from if they watched closely enough. But they knew that this level of accurate and controlled movements required not only effort, but talent as well.

When feet ceased to float and the music humming in the background died down, one woman in particular ran up to the young dancer, manicured nails squishing the full cheeks together. "Isn't she amazing?" Mizu nearly squeaked with pride and reddened cheeks while receiving agreeing nods from the other women.

Mizu was an oiran living in Yoshiwara, a red light district. She was rather beautiful with her opaque hair kept into a bun and held together by golden hairpins, her lips painted crimson and fair skin, although most of her pale skin was thanks to the help of make-up.

"[Name] really is amazing," one of the women said smiling, her palms on her lap as she agreed with Mizu.

Such praise was often thrown your way only because Mizu was in the room. No one dared to openly point out your mistakes and actively help you improve your skills, so you had no choice but to ask the women yourself when Mizu was out of hearing-range.

This issue wasn't the only thing keeping everyone on the edge of their seat.

Whenever a severe mistake happened, that woman was sure to disappear within the next night. Stomping could clearly be heard, you swore the mere sound gave off a murderous intent so intense that it left you shaking underneath the security of your blankets.

When asking if one of your fellow workers could also sense the blood lust every once in a while, they said no. Apparently, they couldn't feel the immense anger creeping throughout the house like you could which left you confused. However, the fact that your senses were so sharp and sensitive to blood lust made you wonder if you had lived a different life before you woke up in Yoshiwara.

Actually, you were sure that you had lived differently before finding yourself in Yoshiwara, but your memories were erased. Proof of your previous lifestyle were your calloused palms, the small scars on them which the other women always pitied you for as it apparently wasn't fit for a lady to have rough palms.

Then there was this wristband which you wore for a reason long forgotten.

All you could remember was your name when you one day woke up on a tatami mat underneath a safe roof with several women in the room. You couldn't answer a single question regarding your past, the years of your life suddenly drowned in black as you tried your best to remember what happened, what caused the pain in your body, but it was no good.

"Thank you for your kind words. If you'd excuse me." As you turned around to leave for the bathrooms, you felt Mizu's eyes on your back and you knew that she had nothing but love swimming in her dark eyes, and yet, you sensed something much deeper, so much darker lurking within them that a shiver rolled down your spine.

One woman responsible for today's cleaning stood next to the highly-respected oiran. "Wherever you picked [Name] up from, it's a gift you found her. She might as well take your place someday, Mizu-san."

A gift you were indeed, but the way you danced bugged Mizu. It reminded her of the fighting techniques of Demon Slayers. Filthy. "Yeah. Who knows what might've happened to her if it was someone else that found her.." Mizu brought the sleeve of her kimono up to her lips, hiding the lower part of her face and tilted her head to the side as she watched you disappear behind shoji doors, briefly remembering where she had found you nearly a decade ago.

"Oh my, what a poor thing." Mizu knelt down to where you laid on the ground, your breathing was shallow and your hand outstretched as if reaching out to the sword in front of you. Manicured nails pushed your bangs out of your face and traced the bruises along your cheek and neck, feeling that your jaw was, indeed, broken.

"You'd look beautiful without all these ugly stains," she mused while twisting a strand of your dirtied hair around her index finger, crimson red lips frowned at the miserable state you were in. So far gone, you couldn't even hear her voice, feel her touch.

Reaching behind her head, Mizu took two hairpins out of her hair and styled your hair into a bun, the hairpins keeping the look somewhat together. You reminded her of the daughter she once had before the small child suddenly died. Mizu desired nothing more than to have her daughter back and you were the perfect fit.

"You'd make a beautiful oiran, one day. Maybe I should make you my daughter." Mizu smiled into the night at the thought of having a daughter, such a stunning one, too. With her, you'd be better off than with those filthy slayers if the sword in front of you was anything to go by. She could give you all the riches you desired, all the kimonos, money, men and women you could ever want.

Those Demon Hunters could only offer you death.

"From today on, you'll be my lovely daughter," Mizu cheered and poked at your cheek to maybe gain a reaction, but all she heard was an incoherent mumble of names she had never heard of. Unimportant, these people no longer mattered.

Carefully, Mizu picked you up with a smile and disappeared into the night.

The water was pleasantly warm against your skin as you washed the heavy make-up off your face, several colors went down the drain and no longer stuck in place like a mask. Luckily, you didn't have to show your face to any outsider that night, or else the amount of make-up would suffocate you.

A sigh escaped through your lips when your eyes landed on that red wristband, the threads wet and soaked with water, but still perfectly intact. You didn't know why, but your heart always ached a little whenever you thought about its origin and the possible memories connected to this little item.

Maybe someone important gave it to you?

Maybe that someone was looking for you and could help you regain your memories!

Ah, what were you thinking? Stuff like this only existed in romantic novels. 8 years had passed and no one had ever looked for you, you were certain of that. No had ever asked around for you, no one had ever put up a picture of your face, no one had cared enough.

Whenever you'd ask Mizu about where she found you and what you did before joining the house she lived in, she brushed you off, saying that it was time for your Japanese class, time to practice calligraphy or dancing, when in reality she only wanted you to be distracted and busy.

"Maybe I should give up and just live with it..," you mumbled into the towel as you dried your face. At least, you would no longer anger Mizu or make the other women nervous when asking anything regarding your past.

Having made up your mind, you trudged back into your empty room. No matter how many paintings you had hung up, no matter how many clothes filled your wardrobe and no matter how much jewelry Mizu made you wear on your hands and neck, it was empty.

You were lucky to live, but were you really alive or simply a shell of who you used to be?

After countlessly tossing and turning, your body finally found some rest and dragged you into a deep slumber.

Streets filled with people were never one of Giyuu's favorites. He preferred executing his job in the mountains where he wouldn't have to hide his sword from the police and didn't have the stress of potentially having to protect a large number of people if a demon was to show up.

One good thing about cities was the food. The steaming bowl of ramen warmed Giyuu up from within as the chilly evening breeze nipped at his cheeks, tinting the flesh a faint shade of red.

"It's almost unbelievable that a demon is supposed to be here. Right, Tomioka-san?" Shinobu sat next to Giyuu and enjoyed her own portion of food. Just behind her back, people chattered away and children played tag with each other, from somewhere further away, she could even make out the faint strumming of an instrument.

Apparently, a demon was hiding somewhere in Yoshiwara. Every few months, women, prostitutes, to be more specific, suddenly disappeared and had never been seen again. Of course, the rumor of those women losing her footing had spread, but this was as waterproof as paper.

Those women had never shown signs of wanting to run away with a man. Love letters were never found nor did they suddenly receive a good amount of money or saw someone especially frequently.

"Demons can hide anywhere." Giyuu's ears picked up how some men asked for some lady's services and briefly, the thought of a demon hiding in a brothel crossed his mind. However, he had never heard of a demon seeking refuge in such business since those places were too crowded to commit a proper murder.

"You're not wrong about this." Shinobu sat back in her seat and put her chopsticks on her empty plate before something caught her attention. What was this red bracelet around Giyuu's wrist? Had it always been there or did he get it recently?

A teasing smile tugged the corners of her lips upwards as she rested her chin on her palm, an index finger pointing at Giyuu's wrist. "Tomioka-san, did you get that wristband from someone special? I didn't know you were the type to be so romantic!" She chirped.

Blue irises gazed at the red threads laced into one thick wristband which was usually hidden underneath the sleeve of his uniform or haori, so no one really ever saw it. "It's nothing like that." Despite his nonchalant words, Giyuu couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips.

"Eh?! Are you smiling?!" Shinobu could hardly believe her eyes and felt a shiver run down her spine. This was..scary.

"..We're here to look for a demon, aren't we?"

Attentively, you sat close to a river, eyes wide and scanning the area for a familiar mop of black hair tied into a low ponytail. From afar, you could hear an old man giving someone the instruction to become one with the water in order to master the breathing techniques.

Just a moment later, a yell echoed through the mountains followed by a noisy splash and the yell got cut off.

"___-san really threw him into the river, huh," you chuckled as you remembered how you nearly drowned the first time the elderly man tossed you into the river like a rubber duck. Now it was the boy's turn.

Minutes of silence filled the space around you, only the water flowing in front of you filled the tranquil space and then, several gasps shattered the peaceful atmosphere.

The boy you had to look out for coughed up water as he dragged himself out of the river, his body soaked to the bone and what was that on his hand? Blood? He possibly cut himself on a stone underwater.

Leaping up from your seated position and jogging over to your friend, you gave his back a few firm smacks until he breathed normally again. "I feel like ____-san really wants to kill us," the boy looked up at you, but..you couldn't see his face. It was black.

"Speaking of dying. What was that on your hand?" you spoke and tried to get a look at the boy's hand, but he quickly hid his hands behind his back, pressing the back of his hands against his lower back. "___, show me!" You insisted and eventually, your friend showed you the cut on the back of his hand.

The cut wasn't deep, but it still bled profusely down his wrist. Clicking your tongue, you reached into your pocket and revealed simple bandages which you always kept with you in case you got injured. "Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" The boy saw the upset look on your face, brows furrowed and your eyes scolding him.

Wasn't it his friend that said that a man should bear his pain in silence?

"I'm sorry, [Name]," he avoided your gaze, focusing on the bracelet you had once made for him, instead. It was better than having to bear the disappointment in your eyes.

"Stop acting tough." You tied the bandage around the boy's hand a bit too tight, making him flinch at the pain shooting through his hand. It was unusual for you to be so rough. "I'll always find out if you're hurt."

In a cold sweat, gasping for air, you suddenly sat straight in bed. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, your sleepwear was drenched in sweat at your neck and back, the fabric clung to you like a second skin. Putting a hand on your chest, you tried your best to control your breathing, but the more you tried, the more you could feel a headache stinging in the back of your head.

Whatever you just saw, it was a mere dream, right? Yet, one could usually hear names and see the faces of the people appearing in a dream, but whenever names fell, they were muted. Whenever you saw a face, it was covered in black.

They were nameless, faceless people.

Perhaps, this was a memory?

"Crap," you hissed as the stinging got to your eyes like a migraine and roughly pushed the blanket off your body as you got up to maybe talk about it with Mizu or someone else. Yes, you promised not to bother anyone with your dreams or past, but this left your hands and mind shaking.

Carefully, as to not make any noise, your bare feet padded along the wooden hallways, every shoji door was shut and no light was on, indicating that all of the women were busy with men downstairs. What a pain, you thought. Keeping married and single men pleased at night was something which never appealed to you, even though Mizu had raised you to possess the needed skills.

Lost in thought, you nearly missed how the light of several candles lit up a single room, the shoji door wasn't even fully closed. You finally found someone!

"I'm sorry for bothering you this late at night, but I was wondering ifㅡ"

You were greeted by the sight of blood being smeared across the wall and pooling right at your feet, bones sticking out from the corpse of the woman who had praised you earlier. Your head screamed at you to run, but your body didn't listen. It was itching to reach for something that wasn't strapped to your hip.

"It's a shame you had to see me like this, [Name]." Opaque hair was loose, red lipstick got replaced by the dead woman's blood which was also dripping down claws.

Mizu tossed the corpse away from her and faced you, slowly approaching you with cold steps. Her pupils were no longer round but resembled that of a cat. Smirking, she watched as your legs trembled in fear when she delicately cupped your face in her hand. "I promised myself to never eat you unless you saw me killing someone. But maybe it's exactly because you are my daughter that you'll be extra nutritious."

Horns made of bones stuck out from Mizu's head, resembling the ears of a bunny. At that very moment, you heard a voice inside your head.

"Some demons devoured so many that their bodies are deformed. It ranges from mere horns to multiple body parts and extreme growth spurts."

"Demon!" You gasped, pushed Mizu away from you with all the strength you had in your arms and made a run for it. Splinters dug into the soles of your feet, but you didn't care. What mattered was your survival, your life, the life Haruto and Tsutako left behind for you!

Wait, Haruto and Tsutako..? Who..?

You stopped dead in your tracks, the sound of Mizu's traditional heels rhythmically clicking against the floor haunted you.

Fleeing downstairs was no option. Innocent lives could easily be taken by Mizu and there was no way you could protect all of them when you couldn't even properly protect yourself. Panic-stricken, your eyes found nothing but paintings decorating the walls, a mere fan and a..

A katana!

Grabbing the katana from the wall, you held it with both hands as tightly as you could, the tip pointing at Mizu's neck.

"You're hilarious, [Name]! Don't tell me you're remembering now when it's too late." Mizu pushed some of her hair behind her shoulder as she laughed at your poor attempt to take her down. However, it seemed like your body was beginning to remember whatever a fragile human once taught you and it wasn't like you had completely forgotten how to move, either.

A laugh shook the demon's shoulders as she stretched her palm out and let a bone grow from her skin. Mizu pointed the sharp bone towards you, shooting it in your direction with the expectation to heavily injure you and kill you in the end.

What she didn't expect was the way you vertically cut through the bone, letting drop to the ground uselessly. Your jaw was clenched, eyes wide open with sweat trickling down your forehead and the katana in your hand like it had always belonged there.

"I don't know what you're saying, but I know that I can't let you live!" Zooming right in Mizu's face, you aimed for her stomach to weaken her, but she was faster. Grabbing your head, she effectively put you off-balance and rammed another bone into your side as if she saw no daughter in you.

"You've always had a funny side to you, but right now, you're looking like a jester. You, killing me? Not even you are that dumb." Mizu wore an unimpressed expression as you fell to your knees and coughed up blood. Hastily, you ripped a good amount of fabric from your yukata and tightly wrapped it around your waist to slow down the bleeding.

The demon never stopped you. Sooner or later, you'd faint and die from blood loss. This was nothing but a fool's attempt to desperately prolong their end.

"That katana can't kill me. As a former Demon Slayer, you should know that only a Slayer's blade and sunlight can kill a demon." A swift kick to your face had blood dripping down your nose, but your palm wrapped itself around Mizu's ankle tight enough to make your arm's veins pop, tight enough to prevent her, a demon, from moving.

"Breathing Techniques make it possible for a human to gain demonic strength themselves. But unlike demons, a human's stamina is limited."

Within a moment, Mizu's ankle was in your hand, her blood flowing down your forearm as you tossed the cut off limb away. Immediately, you pulled her into a close-range fight, but the several bones beginning to stick out from her body pushed you further away with each step you took. The sharp bones left cuts on not only your face, but your arms and legs as well.

"I don't care if it can't kill you! I refuse to go down without a fight! I'll simply keep you busy until the sun rises!"

Searching for that demon in Yoshiwara was a lost cause.

No one had any suspicions or those people were just too scared to talk, fearing that they might mysteriously disappear, as well. The tension in Yoshiwara spread far and wide, yet there wasn't even the trace of a demon to be found.

"We can't talk. Otherwise, we'll disappear, as well."

"Those women are said to have lost their footing, but.. No, it doesn't matter."

"..Whatever are you talking about?"

Excuses upon excuses. But Giyuu could hardly interrogate simple passengers and ask them about the existence of a being which they were unaware of or didn't believe in.

Frustrated, he shut the shoji door of his home and sighed.

Suddenly, a shrill clink bounced off the plain walls of Giyuu's home and as he raised his gaze, he saw the Nichirin sword ㅡ which was supposed to be yours if you had survived ㅡ on the floor, the steel shone in the moonlight peeking through the windows of his home.

His heart felt heavy as he wondered what color your katana would have become, how you would've wielded it, how bright your smile would've been if you had had the chance to receive it.

Giyuu picked the colorless weapon up, wanted to put it back on its place at the wall when suddenly his kasugai crow landed on the window sill, cawing so loudly that it made his ears ring.

"[Name] who was assumed to have died in the final selection 8 years ago, needs backup fighting a demon!" The old crow impatiently bounced around, wings already spread and ready to take off. "Hurry to Yoshiwara! Hurry, hurry! "

"[Name]..?" Gradually, Giyuu's usually calm gaze widened and filled with infinite questions while he was wordlessly staring at your sword. Why were you alive and how in the world did you survive? Why did you never come back? What held you back?

With a flick of his wrist, he hid the plain Nichirin blade in the sleeve of his mismatched haori and was out of his home faster than the crow could perceive.

The Hashira couldn't be late. He couldn't be late, again.

This time, he'd be the one to protect you.

"Get out of here!" You cried to the people who had been very obviously enjoying themselves with alcohol, food and women until Mizu had kicked you through the floor which was also the ceiling of the floor below.

No one seemed to fully realize what happened, reality only kicked in slowly when they took note of your battered form and Mizu coming down the stairs as elegantly as ever, but the blood on her and the aura she radiated created nothing but fear.

All of a sudden, they screamed and ran, talking about a monster possessing their beloved lady who was attempting to kill one of their own.

Making sure that everyone got out safely was a mistake. You didn't even realize Mizu leaving her spot on the stairs as she was suddenly right in front of you, way too close to be considered a safe distance. Crap, there was no way you'd get out of this unscathed.

The bone sticking out from Mizu's palm aimed for your right eye, ready to pierce through your skull and put an end to the prosperous life you could lead thanks to the demonic woman. In an act of despair, you swung your katana vertically in an attempt to cut off her arm, but Mizu just smirked as the blade got stuck, not even budging a centimeter, anymore.

This was it. This attack would be your downfall, you thought.

"Water Breathing. Second form: Water Wheel."

You stumbled backwards, falling on your knees and all your eyes could catch was Mizu's arm suddenly dropping to the ground along with the katana stuck in her flesh. Blood stained the carpet an ugly red, a loud hiss came from Mizu's direction, her pupils shaking and mouth unusually quiet.

"A..H-Hashira..?" Claws digged into the flesh of her palm bit by bit, her fist shook and goosebumps were scattered across her skin. Just the mere aura of that Demon Slayer terrified her; he was way too calm and yet she could feel racing anger bubbling underneath the surface. No, she couldn't let a mere human intimidate her. What ridiculous excuse of a demon would get intimidated by a man wielding a sword?

Hashira..?

Looking up, you saw the broad back of a man wearing a mismatched haori but what stood out to you was the red wristband he wore. It looked like the one around your wrist but could it be the same? What were the odds of two strangers wearing the same red bracelet? Impossible.

A sudden sting in your head interrupted your running mind.

Fingers tangled themselves into your hair, pulling at the roots.

"Stop acting tough." You tied the bandage around Giyuu's hand a bit too tight, making the boy flinch at the pain shooting through his hand. It was unusual for you to be so rough. "I'll always find out if you're hurt."

Panting, you closed your eyes shut until it hurt. Why did you feel like you knew the man in front of you?

..Giyuu!" You finally yelled the man's name out like he was the answer to everything you had been looking for, like he was the missing piece to the puzzle of your life. Unknowingly, tears freely flowed from your eyes, making the cuts on your face sting and burn.

A quick move of his wrist was enough to flick Mizu's blood off his sword. "Don't you dare touch her!" Giyuu wasn't one to lose his calm demeanor often, but what he absolutely couldn't stand was the ones he cared for getting hurt, bruised, made to suffer.

You wiped the blood trickling from your mouth away with the back of your hand, lips tugging themselves upwards as you pushed yourself up to your feet once more and stood next to Giyuu. "I'll fight with you. This is a personal matter."

Giyuu was about to protest, tell you to leave this place, but the sharp shimmer cutting through your eyes immediately took down every word that was on his tongue. Never had you backed down from a fight, never had you let anything break you, never had you ever given up.

Wordlessly, he let the katana he hid in the sleeve of the haori, slide into his palm and handed it to you. As soon as your fingers were wrapped around the handle, the blade turned into a clear baby blue, several shades lighter than Giyuu's Nichirin blade.

"I'll handle the bones. You go for the head."

Giyuu dashed ahead while you cut your way through the maze of bones sticking out from wherever Mizu desired, her attacks got rougher as if she was suddenly frightened. Good. "You brat! Do you really think one more person would be enough to claim my head?!" Mizu stomped her foot once.

That stomping.. You were familiar with it.

It'd occur once every few months before a woman would go missing without a trace. This action always frightened you as the murderous intent in it was so overwhelming that unconsciously, tears would brim your eyes.

Quickly, you grabbed the back of Giyuu's haori and slid to the side with him before several rib-shaped bones dashed up from the ground, their sharp tips shining underneath the chandelier. If you hadn't been so familiar with Mizu's blood lust, you were sure you would've been pierced pork by now.

Thanks to the sliding, you had gotten close enough to Mizu, giving you the perfect opportunity to chop off her head before she could cause any more pain and damage. "Go!" You cried out loud enough for your voice to crack and swung your blade at Mizu's face to slice her horizontally, the demon stopping your blade with her bare hands.

"Water Breathing. First form: Water Surface Slash."

Giyuu had gotten behind Mizu and let his katana cut through the flesh of her neck, the head of the oiran sliding off her shoulders and her body collapsing to the ground. "Impossible!" She screeched in nothing but anger and disappointment at you.

"You ungrateful bitch! I saved and raised you and this is how you repay the favor?! How dare youㅡ!" Tears streamed down her cheeks while you were looking at her with a drained expression. Bruises and cuts stained your skin, not to mention the stab wound in your waist which was still bleeding. Bangs hid your eyes from her view, the smell of ash was strong in your nose.

"I'm very thankful that you raised me, gave me food and a roof above my head. I will never forget that. But making humans suffer by letting them die a painful death, eating them without a shred of guilt in your guts.." The grip on the katana's handle tightened in anger, sadness and grief as you remembered your brother, mother, Tsutako. All those people who were so brave and kind and dead. "Savior, Mother, whatever you are. I absolutely won't forgive you for this!"

"Do you think that matters?! You're nothing but a whore I raised! You, too, won't go to heaven and I'll wait for you in hell!" Before Mizu could spit any more words, her head and body dissolved into nothing, not even the ashes remained.

Slowly, you turned around to face Giyuu, a peaceful smile lingered on your lips as you stumbled towards the one your heart had been missing for longer than you could think. Strength left your hand and the katana Giyuu had tossed you earlier fell to the ground. "Giyuu.. I'm so happy you survived.." You tripped over your own two feet, about to fall, but it was okay.

Giyuu caught you.

"[Name], I.." He spoke, but soon noticed that you had fallen unconscious with your cheek pressed up against his chest, eyes closed and breathing so calmly in his strong arms. Serenity was written all over your face, despite the dirt, cuts, blood and pain you went through. You were at peace with Giyuu around just like when you two were children.

His stoic mask shattered as he pressed your unconscious body flush to his and buried a hand in your hair, his knees giving in and meeting the floor with a dull thud. "I'm so sorry I didn't find you earlier." Giyuu buried his face in your neck as he softly cried against your skin, a wave of immense relief hitting him at once.

At least, you weren't dead like the Hashira believed for nearly 10 years.

"I swear I'll make sure to protect you."

The sun was warm on your skin, gentle eyes focused on a blue butterfly which had entered through the open window and rested on your index finger. Its small legs tickled you ever so slightly and you struggled to hold in a giggle at the feeling.

After having fallen unconscious for a day or two, you woke up at the Butterfly Estate where three very sweet girls awaited you coming back to reality; you learned that their names were Sumi, Kiyo and Naho. They brought you everything you needed and frequently kept you company.

With your eyes opening once more, you also regained your memories. You remembered everything from the day you lost your parents, to the training with Urokodaki, Sabito and Giyuu, to the point you had desperately tried to reach your katana and passed out. Although a little bit of regret lingered at your soul, you couldn't find it in you to be upset with yourself.

Life continuously knitted several paths for one to take, but it was up to several strings of fortunate and unfortunate events alike which path they'd lead one on.

Anyone could say you were unlucky to have lost your memories and had to part ways with the ones you loved the most. But if you thought about it, you were very lucky. So very lucky that Mizu had taken you in, that she fought you and that a string of fate decided to intertwine Giyuu's and your path once more.

The butterfly on your finger flew away as the shoji door slid open and revealed no one else but Shinobu who had watched over your physical and mental state after the confrontation with Mizu. The Insect Hashira was incredibly kind and you felt like you developed some kind of friendship with her.

As she sat down on your bed to give you the last bit of medicine you had to swallow, you couldn't help but notice her eyes lingering on your wristband.

"How come you like Tomioka-san?"

You nearly choked on the pills, heat warmed up your cheeks and the tips of your ears while you stumbled over your words like a child tripped over rocks. "I-I what?! It's nothing like t-that, Shinobu!" Comically, you shook your head and threw your arms around as if that would convince the dark-haired woman.

"Oh? But Tomioka-san has the exact same wristband and when I asked him about it, he smiled. Do you know how scary that was?"

You couldn't bite back the laugh that ripped through you at Shinobu's words. The fact that Giyuu seemed to smile so rarely that it was considered creepy when he did it, was both ridiculous and funny to you.

On the other side of the shoji door, Giyuu wondered what could possibly make you laugh so much. He didn't ponder too much on it since this was a sound he hadn't heard in so long and was actually quite fond of. Not that the Water Hashira would ever say that out loud.

As Giyuu stepped inside, he was immediately greeted by your warm smile and despite the bandaids on your face and bandages around your arms, he was taken aback at how pretty you were. Even after 8 years, you still made his heart feel a certain, funny way with little to no effort at all.

"I guess I should leave the two of you alone. Although I can't deny that I'm surprised you like Tomioka-san enough to willingly be alone with him."

"I..am not disliked by people."

"That's all you have to say?" Shinobu wondered out loud and left the room, the shoji door closing behind her with a dull thud bouncing off the warmly-colored walls.

As Giyuu sat with you on the bed, you couldn't help but notice that his facial features got much sharper over the years, his demeanor became stoic, but you were quick to figure out that Giyuu hadn't grown jaded. Those he cared about, he would show his emotions to.

"Giyuu, Iㅡ"

Whatever you wanted to say got blown away as you suddenly found yourself in Giyuu's arms, your chin resting in his broad shoulder while his hands grasped at your clothes as if you were to disappear if he held you any lighter. "All this time, I thought you were dead."

Wrapping your arms around the tall Hashira, you easily melted into the heartfelt hug and felt relief as well as happiness prick at your eyes. You couldn't cry now. "I'm right here, Giyuu. I told you I'd never be far, remember?" Each syllable was a bit shakier than the previous one, but it made the feelings in your heart only grow firmer and deeper.

Affectionately, you wrapped your pinky around Giyuu's and brought the two intertwined fingers up to eye level while resting your forehead on his own. You basked in the closeness with the one you'd been aching to meet, swam in his calm aura and felt your heart skip several beats as if it had fallen.

A lump found home in Giyuu's throat and effectively cut off any word he could dream of saying. He wasn't used to anyone getting this close to him, wasn't used to someone being affectionate and gentle with him. And he certainly wasn't used to seeing your serene face after so, so long.

But he liked it.

"I'd never forget," Giyuu quietly confessed and felt your breath fan over his cheeks, a delicate smile tugging at his lips as the promise from your childhood was renewed. It was the first time you had seen Giyuu smile and contrary to Shinobu's words, it was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid your eyes on.

Step by step, the sun began disappearing behind mountains and dipped the sky in a beautiful mix of orange, blue and pink. Soon, the stars would light up the sky and the moon would shine brightly.

But with the sun setting, it also meant that demons were about to crawl out from whatever hole they hid themselves in.

"Grab your sword, [Name]."

"Huh?"

Giyuu knew he was about to weave you into a life which could never be described as safe or domestic, but he never forgot that you had already decided to become a Demon Slayer when you two were children. He had seen the way you fought, backed him up and sensed a demon's blood lust.

After all this time, you never truly forgot who you were.

"It won't take long until the demons come out. Let's go."

You nearly fell from your bed as you hastily reached for your sword and a bit of confusion lingered in your mind. Just what was Giyuu thinking? It was hard to tell with his face barely moving like it used to.

"I never officially passed the final selection," you sighed and looked at the sword in your grasp which was once broken, lying right in front of you. "I can't just go with you..can I?"

Giyuu could feel doubt and insecurity seeping from you which definitely wasn't characteristic for you. When you fought Mizu, you were hell-bent on defeating her, despite the injuries you took. Was it guilt from back then making you doubt..?

"What happened 8 years ago is unfortunate, [Name]." Pitch black bangs threw a subtle shadow over Giyuu's eyes, but his voice was, dare you say, soothing. "But if you still want to fight, then I'll train you until the next final selection. Going on patrol with me is considered training."

It was okay for you to become a swordsman once again, right? Urokodaki didn't put you through hellish training and taught you everything he knew just for you to quit. With Giyuu's help, you could surely put an end to the existence of demons. Yes, you could do it!

Confidently, you strapped your Nichirin blade to your waist, grabbed Giyuu's hand and pulled him through the hallways of the Butterfly Estate until you were finally outside. "Then what are we waiting for? Training is about to begin!"

Faintly, Giyuu could hear Shinobu, Aoi and the three girls bid their goodbyes. His eyes fell down to your hand holding his tightly with the wristbands nearly touching one another.

Perhaps, you were really bound by the wrist and though the red threads got heavily tangled along the way, it never got severed.

#tomioka giyuu #tomioka giyuu x reader #giyuu x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader

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warriorsbutnotreally · 4 years ago

Text

Tigerstar And Bluestar Switch Lives/Parents AU

This one is long and complicating

huge warning for Thistleclaw being abusive towards Bluefur in this AU as well as creepy/bloody nightmare imagery!

this is also a long one, but I stop after TPB to avoid to turning into its own giant story sfadkj

Tigerkit [who here is a dark blue-gray tabby with black stripes] and Snowkit are born to Moonflower and Stormtail. Stormtail is rarely around and Tigerkit grows resentful. Even more so when he hears Goosefeather calling him a curse.

Moonflower shushes her brother and scolds him for saying such a thing about her kits

Snowkit, trying to cheer her brother up, has the two running around and playing in the medicine cat den while Goosefeather is out

Snowkit swallows two poppy seeds after Tigerkit dares her. As in canon, they’re caught and Goosefeather assures Snowkit will be okay

Tigerkit blames himself but Moonflower comforts her son and assures him all will be well

Not too long after, Leopardkit and Patchkit become Leopardpaw and Patchpaw.

Moons later, Poppydawn and Speckletail’s kits are born Speckletail names her kits Lionkit and Goldenkit Poppydawn names Sweetkit and lets Snowkit and Tigerkit name the other two. Sweetkit gives Rosekit her name for her rosy tail, but Tigerkit’s first suggestion - Burrbutt - is rejected. He settles on naming the spiky tom-kit Burrkit.

Tigerkit has a bad dream brought on by the whispers he had heard from Goosefeather and wakes up late at night. He stumbles out of the den and bumps into Sunfall. Sunfall comforts the kit before sending him back into the nursery.

It isn’t long after when Tigerpaw and Snowpaw are made apprentices. Snowpaw is given Sparrowpelt and Tigerpaw is given to Thrushpelt. Thrushpelt is patient and kind with Tigerpaw, even when the apprentice is first throwing fits.

There are whispers of WindClan stealing prey

After a good hunting trip, Tigerpaw is taken to his first gathering. He begs until Snowpaw is allowed to join.

The two return, excited about their first gathering

Goosefeather receives the sign from the vole

The invasion of WindClan goes the same, including Moonflower’s death

Seeing Moonflower’s death, Tigerpaw is furious. He attacks the medicine cat, only to be dragged off by Thrushpelt. Tigerpaw screams and cries as he calls Hawkheart a murderer.

Back at camp, he screams at his father, Stormtail, calling him a coward and accusing him of never loving Moonflower

Swiftbreeze screams at Goosefeather and it takes Pinestar, Sunfall, and Thrushpelt to stop any more violence

Sunfall takes Tigerpaw to the side and the two talk

Tigerpaw asks if it’s his own fault that his mother died and Sunfall assures him that it isn’t anyone’s fault

Tigerpaw personally blames Hawkheart, but doesn’t say so

Moons later and he’s still struggling with the loss of his mother and this has turned into anger issues, with him lashing out at others and even getting into a physical fight with a WindClan apprentice while at a gathering Leaving him temporarily banned from gatherings, though the ban was close to lifting

By now the kits - Lionkit, Goldenkit, Burrkit, Rosekit, and Sweetkit - were apprentices - Lionpaw, Goldenpaw, Burrpaw, Rosepaw, and Sweetpaw Patchpaw and Leopardpaw were also now Leopardfoot and Patchpelt

Sunfall had teamped up with Thrushpelt at this point to keep an eye n Tigerpaw, who was growing more and more frustrated

After an argument with his sister, Snowpaw, Sunfall and Thrushpelt take him aside and talk with the apprentice

There is a lot of yelling on Tigerpaw’s end before he ends up breaking down, claiming it wasn’t fair that his mother died and that everyone could just move on with their lives like everything was okay

Thrushpelt, after this, takes Tigerpaw out on expeditions where he allows the apprentice to be alone with his feelings without the pressure of their Clanmates and helps him go through the process of grief

It’s quite rough for a while, but he does eventually begin to show improvement

At the gathering where Tigerpaw is allowed, he notices a strange RiverClan tom with a twisted jaw. He isn’t interested in speaking with him, but finds himself jealous when Goldenpaw decides that she’ll talk to the tom then Oakheart, Crookedpaw’s brother, is announced a warrior and Raggedpelt is announced as ShadowClan’s new deputy

He reluctantly joins the conversation and the three end up having a good night together, though once it ends, Tigerpaw is very aware that the RiverClan apprentice cannot be his friend

As he heads back to camp, he notices how Snowpaw and Burrpaw seem close and he wonders if his sister likes Burrpaw

During a battle training, Tigerpaw accidentally hurts Goldenpaw, the two having gotten carried away while fighting He apologizes endlessly and after she assures it’s okay, Thrushpelt points out that he seems to care for her

Tigerpaw is flustered and angry, but Thrushpelt assures he wasn’t teasing the apprentice, but was simply happy that he seemed to be making friends

At first he is hesitant to accept that it wasn’t him being picked on, but after he thinks on it, he knows Thrushpelt wouldn’t do that to him

When they all return to camp, there is a warning that RiverClan is trying to take sunning rocks

Tigerpaw is ready to jump into battle, but is stopped by Sunfall, who tells Tigerpaw that strong apprentices need to stay behind in case anything happens to the queens and their kits

He sees through the deputy, however, knowing that this is the bright-furred tom’s way of stopping the apprentice from having to deal with any more death or loss However, he still takes it seriously enough to sit outside the nursery

Goldenpaw joins him, though she wasn’t told to, just casually stating that she wanted to learn how to defend the Clan by the best apprentice she knew

Tigerpaw is flustered by this

When the Clan returns, Tigerpaw is quick to notice his sister had been hurt. He goes to comfort her, but is told to back off by Burrpaw, who shoots him a nasty look before guiding Snowpaw to the medicine cat den

One day, while out hunting, Tigerpaw meets a strange tom who he quickly realizes is a kittypet. Tigerpaw is about to fight this stranger when Pinestar stops him and escorts him back home. Tigerpaw is sus about Pinestar

Tigerpaw and his sister go out hunting and while he’s half-way through apologizing for his shitty behavior, the two are attacked by a fox

He manages to get Snowpaw to safety before turned and trying to fight the fox. He’s about to be torn to shreds when a patrol comes to save him curtesy of Snowpaw not wanting her brother to die

He goes to Goosefeather, who snaps at him, telling him that his blood-soaked paws will stain the forest

Tigerpaw is about to fight Goosefeather when Thrushpelt stops him and snaps at Goosefeather

The warrior then leads Tigerpaw out of camp, telling him that his destiny is in his own paws and nothing the old tom says will change that

The two return and Tigerpaw notices that Burrpaw is seemingly trying to tear a rift between him and his sister

Tigerpaw and Snowpaw become Tigerstrike and Snowflower

Sunfall allows the two warriors to oversleep, though neither of them are pleased when they wake up and the day is half over

He then sends the two to help Featherwhisker gather catmint

During this, Tigerstrike and Snowflower see Pinestar talking with the kittypet from before on the fence

The two scare off the stranger and Tigerstrike tells the leader to return to camp or Sunfall would be quick to hear about what he was doing

At the next gathering, Goldenpaw drags Tigerstrike back to socializing and the two encounter Crookedpaw - now Crookedjaw - again

He asks Tigerstrike to apologize to Snowflower for him, as he admits he was the reason she was hurt during the fight for sunning rocks. Tigerstrike isn’t pleased to hear this, but Goldenpaw being there is enough to prevent him from picking a fight

After being sent to the Moonstone, Tigerstrike has a nightmare where he is met face to face with a shadowy kit before he starts to feel his stomach begin to bleed. He opens his mouth to scream, but is cut off by him gurgling on his own blood. When he looks at the kit, it’s gone, and his blood begins to soak the forest

When he returns, he finds feathers in his nest and the faint scent of his friend, Goldenpaw, and her brother, Lionpaw. He finds a strange comfort as he lays down in the nest.

During a patrol, Tigerstrike finds that whatever vague general friendship he had with Burrpaw when the two were kits is now long gone as he notices that as he strays from wanting to fight, he is also earning the ire of the apprentice.

As he takes care of the border near sunning rocks, he notices some RiverClan warriors nearby who seem to be watching them. He is immediately on edge, but doesn’t tell his Clanmates.

When they return, they learn that Leopardfoot is kitting While they wait, Goldenpaw and Sweetpaw invite Tigerstrike to share a mouse, though all of them are having a hard time eating as there is concern into Leopardfoot’s wellbeing

A trio of daughters named Mistkit, Nightkit, and Bluekit [who is a blue-ish silver she-cat]

However, before anyone can congratulate her, Tigerstrike is the first to notice that the kits seemed to be struggling to survive. This is confirmed by Goosefeather, though he does not say this to Tigerstrike. He also seems to have an intense interest in one of the kits.

While out on a patrol, a dog attacks. Burrpaw and Tigerstrike team up to chase the dog off and Burrpaw seems to go back to being perfectly okay with Tigerstrike, confusing the warrior

He ends up becoming Burrclaw

The concern into Pinestar’s whereabouts, Sweetpaw’s death, and the passing of two of the three kits go the same as canon

The same goes for Pinestar leaving his Clan a moon or two after the birth of his kits, him giving a specific goodbye to Bluekit, who tries to follow her father, but is stopped by Leopardfoot

Sunfall becomes Sunstar and Tawnyspots is still made deputy

After this, Rosepaw is named Rosetail

Tigerstrike overhears Burrclaw talk about his goal of becoming leader and though he wants to get along with Burrclaw, he thinks of his nightmare at Moonstone and is filled with a strange dread

This becomes worse when Snowflower tells him that she’s expecting Burrclaw’s kits

A few moons later, Whitekit is born

A larger rift has grown between brother and sister and Tigerstrike is painfully aware that Burrclaw is at the center of it

Bluekit and Whitekit, meanwhile, seemingly are getting along

A half-moon later, Frostkit and Brindlekit are born to Robinwing

Goosefeather is distressed and confused now, asking Tigerstrike if he really intends to fight what he is

Tigerstrike counters that he’s not anything more than a loyal ThunderClan warrior

Goosefeather doesn’t seem to believe him, but Tigerstrike walks away before this can escalate.

While this is going on, Tigerstrike is even closer to both Lionpaw and Goldenpaw, the three forming a tight friendship. While Goldenpaw is away, Lionpaw informs Tigerstrike that his sister likes him. Tigerstrike seems surprised Lionpaw snorts at the surprise, saying that the tom should’ve noticed since he likes her back

Tigerstrike denies this and the two break into a play-wrestle

Snowflower and Tigerstrike go out and Tigerstrike admits that he thinks something’s up with Burrclaw Snowflower defends her mate and it ends in a fight and Snowflower’s death is all the same, with her dying on the Thunderpath and with Burrclaw blaming Tigerstrike

When Whitekit’s safety comes into question, Tigerstrike, for the first time, actively vocalizes that he doesn’t trust Burrclaw to the warrior’s own face

Burrclaw won’t forget that

Tigerstrike is numb and doesn’t no how to handle the loss of his sister and admits to Goldenpaw that it should’ve been him who was struck by the monster

Goldenpaw disagrees, but also says that it doesn’t mean she blame Snowflower for dying, either

The two sit in silence with each other

Later Goldenpaw becomes Goldenflower and Lionpaw becomes Lionheart

Swiftbreeze has her second litter - Redkit, Spottedkit, and Willowkit

Tigerstrike is unable to go to the gathering, knowing his sister’s death will be announced. Instead he spends the night in the nursery.

Goldenflower goes to check on him and joins him in laying with Whitekit She notes how he’d be a wonderful father, but Tigerstrike disagrees, stating his own dad was barely a dad

Goldenflower counters by saying that he would be a wonderful father because he knows better than to be what Stormtail was

Tigerstrike asks why she cares about him so much She admits that she looks up to him, because he’s seen so much bad but hasn’t let that make him bad

He admits that sometimes he feels like he’s not good

She nuzzles him and tells him that for those times, she’ll be good enough for the two of them

She ends up falling asleep and Tigerstrike watches her until he eventually doses off himself, the two curled protectively around his nephew

He has another nightmare, this time he is being choked by thistles, brambles, and burrs that all wrap tightly around his throat. He chokes out a cry, but no one hears him. He’s about to black out when he sees Whitekit, standing in the open. The plants are growing close to the oblivious kit Tigerstrike kicks and fights, clawing at the attacking underbrush until he gets to Whitekit.

He wakes up to Whitekit chewing on his tail and Goldenflower not in the nursery with him, but her scent lingering in the nest.

Burrclaw and Tigerstrike have a tense encounter before the two are sent off on patrol with each other Tigerstrike is tempted to agree with Burrclaw on trying to take on the kittypet, but when realizing the scent belongs to a kit, he thinks of Whitekit and is unable to bring himself to condone what Burrclaw wants to do

They return to camp and he sees Goldenflower playing with Whitekit. Thrushpelt comments privately to Tigerstrike on how Whitekit is already fond of her and how she and Tigerstrike are raising the kit right and how he noticed Burrclaw rarely visits

Tigerstrike tries to act tough before quietly admitting his fondness for Goldenflower

Bluekit becomes Bluepaw, Burrclaw’s apprentice, and Adderfang temporarily takes over as deputy when Tawnyspots falls ill

Goosefeather warns Tigerstrike not to allow himself or Burrclaw to become deputy

Tigerstrike is frustrated and tells Goosefeather to back off and shut up before going over to Thrushpelt and Goldenflower

Thrushpelt admits to having no interest in becoming deputy, but thinks that if Tigerstrike were to get an apprentice, he’d be a wonderful deputy Uncomfortable, Tigerstrike disagrees

After coming back from battle training one day, Tigerstrike notices a change in Bluepaw’s behavior and how the apprentice is withdrawing from everyone, including her own mother His concerns grow as Burrclaw flexes that he’s going to turn her into a fearsome warrior

When out on a patrol with Burrclaw and Bluepaw, they come across the kit who had been exploring the forest before Bluepaw is hesitant when Burrclaw tells her to attack, but when he whispers something in her ear, it’s enough to motivate her

Tigerstrike, however, manages to tear the apprentice off the kit before any major harm can happen and in return Burrclaw attacks Tigerstrike and ends up blinding him in one eye

The kit is terrified of the fighting and runs off Burrclaw demands Bluepaw chase him down Tigerstrike tries to tell her not to, but Burrclaw stops him Burrclaw makes a vague threat that is enough to get the apprentice to run after the kit and then turns to Tigerstrike and threatens to tear his throat out if he tells anyone who did this to him

Around the time that Tigerstrike is on his paws, another patrol finds them and are shocked to find Tigerstrike bleeding

Burrclaw tells them it was a rogue

The patrol is brought back, though Burrclaw seems to keep wanting to leave to get Bluepaw and is talking about her borderline obsessively while the two are in the medicine cat den

Bluepaw never returns to the camp and the Clan assumes she was killed

Time passes and Whitepaw is now Whitestorm Rosetail had mentored Whitestorm after Tigerstrike talked to Sunstar Tigerstrike is currently mentoring Frostpaw

Goldenflower is in the nursery, expecting her and Tigerstrike’s first litter Tigerstrike is excited but he keeps remembering the day Bluepaw vanished and the kit and it’s bothering him not knowing what happened

He often goes on solo hunting patrols trying to see if he could figure out what happened to them, but turns up nothing

After sunning rocks is taken back by ThunderClan, Tigerstrike tells Goldenflower that something is up with Burrclaw and that he thinks that the warrior was doing something to hurt the apprentice Goldenflower is confused and asks why and he tells her about the patrol, making sure she promises not to tell anyone so that it didn’t make its way back to Burrclaw

The two of them agree to work together to keep an eye on the tom, especially after Goldenflower pointed out that he didn’t mourn for even a moment when the Clan mourned Bluepaw’s disappearance

Things with Tawnyspots lack of recovery, the news on Crookedstar becoming leader, Brokenpaw’s fighting at the gathering all go as per canon A RiverClan apprentice is almost killed by Burrclaw when they were caught too close to the border, but Tigerstrike manages to stop him

Goldenflower and Tigerstrike’s first litter are born; two daughters named Petalkit and Featherkit Featherkit sadly passes away before she’s even a day old Petalkit, however, is healthy as can be

Not too long after, Runningkit and Mousekit are born to White-eye It is also revealed that Goosefeather has returned, Featherwhisker has Spottedpaw as an apprentice, and that there’s been some strange activity near the Southern border of ThunderClan

Tawnyspots’s health is only getting worse and it gets obvious that a new deputy needs chosen There’s whispers of it being Burrclaw During a border patrol where a new deputy is being talked about while the patrol is going on, Tigerstrike notices a ragged she-cat is watching them carefully Someting about her eyes looks familiar to him and in the moment he can’t recall why

A few days later, as Tigerstrike is playing with Petalkit, Sunstar makes the announcement that he’s ready to choose a new deputy, since Tawnyspots is choosing to retire He is about to say who when a yowl is heard in a nearby tree The cats look up and Tigerstrike realizes that it’s the she-cat from before, though it looks like she cleaned herself up

She says that her name changed for moons, but she was once Bluepaw Everyone is shocked that she’s alive Jumping down from the tree, she reveals that Burrclaw had manipulated her and abused her while she was his apprentice Burrclaw tries to brush it off, but Spottedpaw also comes forward, revealing he had done the same to her The Clan is stunned until Tigerstrike and Goldenflower step forward and Tigerstrike reveals what happened to his eye and that Burrclaw had tried to get Bluepaw to kill a kit

The Clan turns against Burrclaw and he is exiled from the Clan Bluepaw turns to go, but is stopped by Sunstar, who offers her a place back in ThunderClan She hesitates before asking if they’d really want her back Leopardfoot, who is in tears, says she’d love to have her daughter back Bluepaw agrees to return and is giving the name Blueheart Blueheart then brings a couple apprentice-aged cats with her after disappearing for a bit and it’s revealed that these are her kits, but she refuses to name a father - her daughter’s name is Coal and her son’s name is Dusk They become Darkpaw and Duskpaw

With all this having gone down, a deputy is still needed. Sunstar asks Tigerstrike if he’d want to be deputy, but he declines and turns his attention to Rosetail, stating that if any cat deserved to be deputy, it would be one with her heart in the right place

Rosetail is named deputy and eventually, after Sunstar’s passing, becomes Rosestar Thrushpelt is made her deputy

In The Prophecies Begin, Thrushpelt, the former deputy, has passed and Lionheart is the current deputy Petalkit is now Petalsnow, Darkpaw is now Darkwing, and Duskpaw is now Duskfur. Goldenflower is in the nursery with Swiftkit and Lynxkit - her and Tigerstrike’s second litter Sandpaw, Ravenpaw, Dustpaw, and Graypaw are the apprentices of Whitestorm, Blueheart, Redtail, and Petalsnow respectively

Rusty joins and is given the name Firepaw He is given to Tigerstrike, who he is a little intimidated by at first, but warms up to

Tigerstrike is a strict mentor, but isn’t cruel

When Lionheart is mysteriously killed on ThunderClan’s territory not long after his kits are born, there are whispers about it being Burrclaw When Firepaw asks who that is, Tigerstrike is honest with him, not wanting to hide any of the painful truth from the apprentice

Redtail is named the new deputy

Things become more uneasy when Tigerstrike and Firepaw see a ShadowClan patrol and there’s a tom Tigerstrike regconizes with them

He is quick to tell Rosestar that Burrclaw is part of ShadowClan

When she confronts Brokenstar about this, Brokenstar says no such cat by that name exists in ShadowClan Burrclaw introduces himself under the new name Nightstorm He is also revealed to be Brokenstar’s new deputy, which sends a wave of dispear through ThunderClan

Blueheart is outraged at the news

It is then revealed that she knows who exactly the father is and without saying who, the implication is that it’s Burrclaw/Nightstorm, which unsettles many cats, as that meant that Blueheart was made a queen at an increadably young age

Darkwing and Duskfur apparently already knew and are just as angry that the tom that sired them is deputy of ShadowClan - refusing to refer to him as their father

Darkwing asks her mother why they don’t just ask help from Scourge, which brings many questions with that, but Blueheart refuses to answer

ThunderClan chooses to fight ShadowClan and as a result, Brokenstar is killed, though it is realized by Firepaw that no ThunderClan warrior killed him This stays a secret between Firepaw and Tigerstrike as they notice Yellowfang is surprisingly calm over the fact her leader is gone, but they don’t blame her

They chase off Nightstorm and some other warriors, but it isn’t long before he’s back in ShadowClan - as Burrclaw and then Burrstar - and he had apparently convinced WindClan that ThunderClan is not to be trusted

No cat is sure how he got his nine lives, but there is fear there

Redtail is killed mercilessly by ShadowClan when they attack the camp and Tigerstrike is injured protecting Firepaw from what would have been a lethal blow

He is made deputy after Redtail’s funeral

He is uncomfortable with this and Firepaw asks why He reveals Goosefeather, the former medicine cat, only ever saw darkness in him Firepaw says he doesn’t see any and Tigerstrike laughs and says that’d make two cats - including Goldenflower

When Rosestar is killed, Tigerstrike is forced to become Tigerstar

Blueheart is his deputy and this time she talks to him privately about Scourge

There is a lot of hesitation, but he agrees

She brings Tigerstar to BloodClan and at first cats aren’t happy to see her, but when she says she has important news for Scourge, they agree to let her through

When they get there, she talks privately with the small tom, leaving Tigerstar alone to notice that one of the cats - Bone - seems content to have the molly back

Blueheart returns and says Scourge has agreed, but she seems uneasy

While returning to camp, she tells Tigerstar that Scourge has only gotten worse and how if need be, after Burrstar is gone, they need to prepared to see BloodClan as a possible threat

She is proved right when, a moon later, Burrstar is killed and Scourge decides he wants the forest to himself

Blueheart tries to confront and stop Scourge only to be killed at his claws

Firepaw, now Fireheart and the mentor of Cinderpaw, is made deputy

They take on Scourge and BloodClan Darkwing is killed in the battle and Duskfur is blinded - though he remains a warrior Petalsnow nearly dies but is saved by Dustpelt, who later becomes her mate

Some side notes

I image Tigerstar makes it until the start of what would be about the time of Omen Of The Stars Then Firestar would become leader

Cinderpaw is uninjured and becomes Cinderspark

Tigerstar and Goldenflower have one more litter - Brambleheart and Tawnyfur - way later [probably mid TNP]

Mothwing and Hawkfrost are never born BUT Burrstar likely has more kits out there than just Darkwing and Duskfur

Speaking of, design-wise Dark and Dusk are identical twins and look more like their mother - thankfully

#au #tigerstar #bluestar #firestar #scourge #thistleclaw #tw; abuse #tw; implied grooming #i got really invested into the idea of this AU #and #i would 100% love to hear other people's ideas

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