#you think that was the air carrying them? you think it was that complicated wing flap you spent fifteen minutes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fangsandfracturedhearts · 1 year ago

Text

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 4: Little Lamb

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6K

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

As soon as you make it out of the city and find a secluded spot, the weight of it all finally crushes you. You fall to your knees, broken, and the sobs come violently, ripping through your chest. Your body trembles with every breath, and it feels as though your eyes are burning from the flood of tears that won’t stop. Each one comes too fast, too hot, like they’re trying to cleanse something far too deep to ever be washed away.

Of course, he had moved on. Found someone else to... entertain. Just thinking the word makes your stomach twist, a sickness that strikes at the very core of you, hollowing you out. You gasp for air between sobs, shaking your head as if you could rid yourself of the thought, of the image.

Did I really expect anything different?

Raphael’s words echo bitterly in your mind, “The arousals of man will return to him.” A cruel irony, those words. You can’t help but scoff through the tears. Except for that one night—the night you agreed to become his spawn—Astarion had barely touched you, as if you were too unworthy.

You’d told yourself it was complicated for him, that he just needed time. Maybe you even believed that, like a fool. But now? Now you can’t help but wonder if agreeing to be his spawn had disgusted him. Or maybe... you think bitterly, maybe he just prefers warm flesh. Now he’s bedding that—that harlot!

The word scrapes through your mind, and another wave of anguish pulls at you, so strong you can barely breathe. You collapse forward, knees pulled tight to your chest, arms wrapped around them like they could hold you together. You rest your head on your legs, eyes squeezing shut, as if by blocking out the world you could somehow block out the pain. But it’s relentless, an all-consuming misery that sinks its claws into you and drags you down into the depths.

How many times do I have to lose him?

The hunger gnaws at your insides like a starving beast, but you hardly notice it anymore. Your stomach spasms, retching dryly as your body demands sustenance, but you ignore it. Your limbs twitch sporadically, muscles convulsing in desperate need, but you can’t bring yourself to hunt. You just sit there, drowning in your despair, too tired to care.

When did I become this hollow shell?

You were never like this. You weren’t born into comfort or privilege—you fought for everything. You survived every hardship that came your way. You have the blood of dragons in your veins, an unyielding fire that has carried you through life’s trials. Whether through diplomacy, persuasion, or sheer force, you had always faced adversity head-on.

But now? Now, you felt empty. That fire, the one that once roared so fiercely, had been snuffed out, leaving nothing but cold ashes. You think back to when you first met Astarion, back on that beach, his dagger pressing into your ribs, threatening to gut you. You’d been seconds away from turning him into a charred husk before your tadpole flared, dousing your flames and forging a connection you hadn’t asked for.

And now look at me.

You don’t know when it happened—when that inner flame started to fade—but you know it’s gone. All that remains is a void where your will to survive once thrived. You sit there, trembling on the ground, staring vacantly at the skyline as dawn threatens to break. The first rays of sunlight creep over the horizon, their golden glow peeking up.

You almost consider it—letting the daylight take you. Letting it burn away what’s left of you. Maybe it’s better this way, you think, eyes fluttering closed.

But then, Shadowheart’s words echo in your mind, as clear and fierce as the day she spoke them. “I will kill you, Astarion, even if it’s the last thing I do.” The conviction in her voice had been unmistakable. If you don’t return, she will go after him, no matter the cost.

And it would cost her.

The thought jolts you from your despair. Your will to live might be buried beneath the rubble of your broken heart, but your concern for your friends is still alive, still burning. The weight that had kept you pinned to the ground all night suddenly lifts, and before you know it, you’re on your feet, running.

You reach the house quietly, slipping inside like a ghost, hoping Shadowheart is still asleep. But as soon as you step into the main room, you find her pacing, her brows knit in worry, her fingers aglow with divine magic. At the creak of the door, she whirls, her eyes wide, a gasp of relief escaping her.

“I was almost out of my mind with worry!” she exclaims, her voice trembling with barely-contained distress.

You lower your head, the guilt settling heavily in your chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Wait... what’s wrong?” Shadowheart’s eyes flare with fury, her voice sharp and demanding. “What did he do to you!?”

You can’t answer right away. The words feel lodged in your throat, heavy and unmovable, so instead, you let your back slide down the rough wooden door. The splinters catch on your robe as you sink to the floor. “Nothing,” you mutter, more to yourself than to her. “Nothing I didn’t bring on myself.”

She’s not having it. “Did he hurt you?”

Yes.

You shake your head, but you can’t meet her gaze. The truth lies there, buried beneath layers of denial, too painful to dig up. “No.”

“You’re lying.” Her voice softens but doesn’t lose its edge. She knows you too well. “Tell me the truth.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” you repeat, the lie bitter on your tongue.

He broke me.

Her anger falters as her eyes flicker to your face, noticing the tears spilling down your cheeks. She kneels beside you, her voice gentler now, “Tell me what happened.”

Your throat tightens. The words are too raw, too close to the surface, and you’re terrified of the flood that will come if you open your mouth. “Another time,” you whisper. “Can we... please drop it for now?”

She studies your face, suspicion clouding her features, but she gives a curt nod. “Fine.”

The tension hangs between you like a storm cloud, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. You can see it in the set of her mouth, the tightness in her jaw, the way her fists clench at her sides. Her heart pounds loudly enough that you can feel it like a distant echo in your own chest.

“Please,” you say quietly, “don’t go looking to start a fight with him.”

She huffs, folding her arms across her chest. “Why are you still protecting him? What has he done to deserve such loyalty?”

“Astarion doesn’t need my protection,” you reply, your voice flat. “Not anymore.”

Her lips press into a thin line. “I’m sure he believes that.”

“Shadowheart, please,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

She exhales sharply, but the tension in her frame loosens, if only slightly. “Fine.” Her tone is resigned, but her concern cuts through the bitterness. “How’s your wound? Do you need more healing?”

“I’ll be alright,” you say, though the ache in your side tells a different story. A burning, gnawing pain that hasn’t subsided, and it takes every ounce of effort not to wince. “I heal fast.”

I should, anyway. But the wound still throbs, as if it’s deeper than flesh, something even time can’t mend.

An uneasy silence stretches between you, a gulf of unspoken words and emotions neither of you knows how to bridge. Shadowheart watches you carefully, her concern palpable. Finally, she breaks the silence. “And the hunger?”

Your head snaps up at the question, and the response comes out harsher than you intended. “Keep your distance.” The severity of your own voice startles you, and you wince, regretting the way it sounded. “Sorry,” you mutter. “That didn’t come out right.”

She nods, understanding etched in her eyes. “I understand.”

Pushing yourself up from the floor, your body protests with a sharp sting as your wound pulls painfully at the movement. You grit your teeth, refusing to show the discomfort. “I think I’m going to get some rest.”

“Good idea,” she says, her expression softening. “You look terribly pale.”

You manage a weak smirk. “Imagine that, a pale vampire spawn,” you murmur, but the humour feels forced.

Turning away, you make your way to your bedroom, though the ache in your body is nothing compared to the weight on your soul. You crawl into bed, hoping for trance, for oblivion. But it does not come easily. When it finally does, your rest is haunted by twisted echoes of memories, dark figures, and sharp words playing out in the theatre of your mind, making even sleep feel like a battleground.

You’re back in camp, curled up in your tent, but sleep evades you. The city looms near, a storm cloud of uncertainty casting its shadow over your thoughts. Your draconic fire pulses restlessly over your fingertips, its warmth a familiar comfort. Each flicker is hypnotic, the flames twisting and dancing with the rhythm of your breathing. The ancient heat of your ancestors radiates from your skin, a tether to something primal and unbreakable. You toy with the fire, willing it higher, lower, brighter, dimmer—playing with its intensity in a controlled, measured cycle, like a heartbeat.

“Neat trick,” a voice purrs, cutting through the stillness. “What else can you do with that fire of yours?”

Astarion pulls back the flap of your tent, the flickering light of your flames casting a crimson glint in his eyes. His gaze locks onto yours, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks, his tone light, teasing.

With a sigh, you let the fire flicker out. “No,” you admit, your voice quieter than you intended. “Successful hunt?”

“Your necks may rest easy tonight, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he replies, the amusement in his voice unmistakable.

“Astarion, I didn’t mean—”

He cuts you off with a low chuckle. “I’m just playing with you, my dear.”

He crouches down beside you, taking your hand in his. His touch is ice against the feverish warmth your flames left behind, sending a shiver up your spine. His fingers are delicate but firm, a dangerous combination you’ve come to know too well.

“Come, my love,” he murmurs. “Why don’t you join me tonight?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Join you? Where?”

“In my tent.”

You hesitate. “That’s not necessary.”

“Please?” His voice softens, coaxing, but there’s an edge beneath it, something insistent. You can feel the weight of his gaze, the pull of him, as though refusing him would be impossible.

Your eyes narrow slightly as you study him, probing for the familiar mask he wears so well—the practiced charm, the smooth facade he uses to manipulate. But you find none of that now. He looks relaxed, almost... sincere.

“I’d really rather you disrobe me for real, beautiful,” he says with a smirk, his tone laced with mischief. “Come.”

Alarm bells blare in your head. Something feels off, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. “Astarion...”

“My sweet, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his hand still gripping yours. “Do I look uncomfortable to you?”

You bite your lip, shaking your head. “No.”

It’s true—he doesn’t. His expression is calm, and maybe that’s what perturbs you the most. He isn’t hiding behind his usual mask.

“I want you close tonight,” he continues, his voice like velvet. “Are you truly going to deny me the pleasantries of your fine company?”

You start to rise, and he rises with you, his hand still holding yours. But before you can fully stand, he gives your arm a sudden, firm tug. You stumble forward, falling into him.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his breath ghosting across your skin.

Then his lips crash against yours, gentle at first, but quickly turning hungry—desperate. His mouth claims yours with a ravenous intensity, as if you’re the only thing keeping him from withering away. His kiss is all-consuming, and the heat of it stirs something deep within you. Your body presses against him involuntarily, desire awakening in you like a firestorm.

He groans against your lips, a sound that reverberates through his chest, vibrating against yours. His tongue parts your lips, exploring, tasting, and you feel yourself melting into him, swept away by the urgency of his need. Every touch feels electric, sparking your arousal into a visceral torrent that you can’t control.

When he finally pulls away, you moan softly, your eyes still closed, your breath ragged. “Not fair,” you murmur, the words slipping from your lips without thought.

Astarion chuckles, low and dark, his lips brushing your ear. “Oh, darling,” he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “Don’t fret. I’m not done with you just yet.”

You jolt awake, nearly launching yourself from the bed. Your breath comes in ragged, panicked gasps—an unnecessary reflex, but one your dead body refuses to forget.

He was so gentle, so sweet… and I ruined him.

Groaning, you collapse back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling. You raise your hand, eyes tracing the pallid, unnatural tone of your skin. It’s a shade that reminds you daily of what you’ve lost—the warm glow you once held, now replaced by the cold sheen of undeath. Desperation claws at your chest, and you seek solace in something familiar, something you can still control. You reach for the Weave. Fire springs from your palm, a flickering blaze born of your draconic blood. The flames dance and climb over your hand, licking at your fingertips, bringing a fleeting sense of comfort.

This is mine. No one can take this from me—not even him.

Your focus is broken by the sound of frantic pacing below. The thud of footsteps echoes through the floorboards, accompanied by the steady drumming of a heart. It pounds in your ears, its rhythm growing louder and louder, stirring something deep and dangerous within you. You extinguish the flame, relinquishing your hold on the Weave, and sit up. The wound in your side protests sharply, sending waves of pain radiating through your torso, but you shove the sensation aside, forcing yourself to concentrate.

You rise from the bed, but your limbs feel clumsy and uncoordinated. A stumble here, a near fall there—it’s like your body is betraying you.

I’ve never been graceful, but this? This is new.

There’s no time to dwell on it. You quickly dress and move to the top of the stairs. “Shadowheart? Are you alright?” you call down, voice laced with concern.

Even from this distance, the scent of her blood calls to you. Your body tenses, trembling with the effort it takes to resist. You clench your fists, eyes squeezing shut as you silently beg any God that hasn’t abandoned you for strength.

“No. I need to speak with you urgently. Can you come down?” Shadowheart’s voice reaches you, tense and filled with unease.

No, you think. I shouldn’t.

“Yes, but—” You hesitate, trying to fight back the hunger gnawing at your insides.

“I will keep my distance,” she assures, cutting off your protest.

“Get your weapon,” you plead, feeling your restraint slipping.

She scoffs lightly. “I trust you.”

Gods, she has no idea how good she smells.

“Please, Shadowheart,” your voice wavers, the rawness of your desperation seeping through. “It’s... really bad today.”

There’s a pause. “Fine, if you insist. But I’m not afraid of you.”

You should be. Your hunger digs deeper, its talons shredding your insides, making your limbs quake with need. Dark, repulsive thoughts slither into your mind, seeping into the cracks of your control. Gods, the pain. With shaky steps, you descend the stairs. Each movement sends sickening cramps through your gut, and the scent of Shadowheart’s fear grows stronger. Her heart races, the sound booming in your ears like a thunderstorm, and you can hear her lungs struggling to keep up with her rapid breaths.

This is how Astarion always knew when I was upset, even when I told him I was fine. He could hear it, feel it, the whole time. He’d tried to explain this to you, time and time again, but nothing compared to the reality of it—the sharp clarity of the moment when you hear every sound, smell every emotion.

By the time you reach the bottom of the stairs, your hand grips the banister so tightly the wood groans beneath your fingers. It’s all you can do to focus on that sensation—the rough texture, the solidness of it—anything to keep you grounded.

Shadowheart stands on the other side of the room, her weapon in hand, as she promised. The sight brings you a strange comfort.

"Are you alright, Shadowheart? You don’t sound like yourself.”

"I received a letter from my parents. They’ve requested that I see them. It said it’s an urgent matter."

You remember Shadowheart’s mother had fallen ill months ago, her recovery stunted by whatever mysterious ailment plagued her. Despite your urging for Shadowheart to stay with her parents and help, she had stubbornly refused.

"You need to go to them," you say gently.

She nods, though hesitantly. "I know. But I’m not keen on leaving you alone."

"I’ll survive," you assure her with a faint smile. "I’m well equipped to take care of myself, as you know. Besides, if I recall correctly, vampire spawn are rather difficult to kill.”

Shadowheart narrows her eyes. "Not if Astarion comes for you.”

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips. "Astarion’s preoccupied with a new toy at the moment. I doubt I’m even a second thought to him.”

Her brows arch in surprise. "What? A new spawn?”

"No," you shake your head. "She’s still... alive. For now, anyway.”

Concern softens her features. "Are you okay?”

She pities me. The thought makes you grit your teeth, but you push it aside. "I will be. Go see your parents, Shadowheart. It sounds important. Please don’t let me keep you from living your life.”

"Yes, I think I should," she says, though her voice wavers with hesitation. "I won’t be gone too long. Stay out of trouble, will you?”

You offer a casual shrug. "No promises. Trouble tends to find me.”

She shoots you her best disapproving glare, but you can see the faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"I’ll behave. Now go," you say, waving her off.

Without another word, Shadowheart starts bustling around the house, gathering her things. The rhythm of her heartbeat quickens, filling the room with its pounding drum. You grip the wooden banister tighter, feeling it splinter under the force of your hand. Every thud of her pulse hammers against your restraint.

"I’ll be in my room. Travel safe, Shadowheart." You retreat quickly, before the bloodlust takes over.

Back in the confines of your room, you bury your head under every pillow you can find, trying to muffle the raging noise inside your mind. But it doesn’t stop—the hunger gnaws at you relentlessly, scratching at your control. In desperation, you dig your nails into your legs, carving deep, bleeding lines in your flesh, just to feel something else. Anything else.

A soft knock on the door. "I’m leaving now. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

You groan, barely able to manage words. "Just go, Shadowheart. Don’t worry about me."

Her footsteps echo down the stairs, followed by the door closing behind her. The house falls into blissful silence, and with her gone, the hysteria of your bloodlust ebbs slightly, allowing you to breathe.

Your eyes drift to the boarded-up window. The rough wooden planks hum faintly with warmth, a quiet reminder of the daylight just beyond. You reach out, your hand hovering over the boards, feeling the residual heat radiating from the sun’s rays.

And then your mind betrays you, pulling you into a memory you’ve tried so hard to forget.

Astarion’s arm around you, his grip firm yet protective. His eyes, glowing crimson, filled with something more than lust—something like affection. His thumb brushing tenderly against your cheek. It had felt safe. Until her. The woman with mulberry hair and piercing sapphire eyes. Her triumphant smile, her disgusting sultry strut.

You recoil from the thought, shaking your head as if that could rid you of it. Turning away from the window, you stumble, your ankle rolling painfully as you misstep. It should alarm you—this new clumsiness—but you’re too drained to care. Every movement feels like it’s siphoning the last of your energy, leaving you weaker by the second. You drag yourself back to bed, your limbs heavy and uncooperative. As soon as you lie down, the exhaustion claims you, and you surrender to the pull of your trance.

Your condition steadily worsens over the following days. Blood continues to seep from the wound on your side, showing no signs of healing. Dark streaks now stretch up your torso, down your side, and into your thigh, a sinister pattern that speaks of something far worse than mere injury.

You feel disoriented and weak, your vision hazy as reality ebbs and flows like waves crashing over a rocky shore. As you rise to check your bandages, your legs feel unsteady beneath you. The fabric clings to your skin, once again soaked in crimson.

I need help. Something is very wrong. Can a vampire spawn die from this? What ailments can kill one of my kind? There’s so much I still don’t know.

But you know someone who does.

With trembling hands, you attempt to re-bandage yourself, the motions awkward and sloppy. Sliding into a robe, you struggle with the laces, your fingers slipping and grasping at nothing but air as your vision splits into doubles, triples, and even quadruples. Each attempt sends your eyes crossing and your head throbbing like a relentless drum. Putting on your boots becomes a Herculean task; your knees tremble beneath you, and you find yourself tumbling to the floor again and again.

You should be terrified for your life, but instead, you waver between delirium and sheer incoherence, finding a strange amusement in your state. A giggle escapes your lips as you grin, trying to locate the right door handle amidst the fog clouding your thoughts.

The walk to the Crimson Palace feels long and grueling. Your feet barely cooperate, embarrassingly tripping over themselves as you stumble onto your hands and knees in the street. Thankfully, the streets are sparsely populated, most people preferring the bustling taverns scattered throughout the city. Those who do witness your awkward struggles can’t help but laugh at your ineptitude.

They think I’m drunk. The thought sends another fit of giggles bubbling up.

Rounding a corner, you prop yourself against the wall, gasping for breath—though you realize with a laugh that you no longer need to breathe at all.

I’m dead. More giggles bubble forth. Wait, where was I going?

You glance up and barely make out the silhouette of the Crimson Palace, its dark form looming against the overcast sky. The memory stirs, a distant echo in your mind.

Oh yes, to see my master, Lord Astarion.

Another chuckle escapes you, and you roll your eyes at the ridiculous thought. It sends your vision spinning, and you groan, forcing your failing body to keep moving forward.

Through the murky darkness, a voice calls out, “It’s so nice to see you again.”

You recognize the voice but can’t quite place it. Your mind sluggishly attempts to connect that familiar tone with a memory, but coherence eludes you. Squinting through the fog clouding your vision, you catch a glimpse of the colour mulberry.

It’s her.

“Ugh. Go away.”

Not her. Anyone but her.

She blocks your path, her presence a mockery of your state. “You don’t look so good, sugar,” she chirps, her upbeat tone making you want to retch.

I should kill her.

A sinister smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, and you struggle to suppress the feverish giggle that threatens to erupt. In your diminished and nearly incoherent state, she would be more likely to end you than the other way around, but it’s a lovely fantasy nonetheless.

You ignore her, clumsily attempting to sidestep her.

“I can’t help but notice you seem to be headed toward the Crimson Palace. Are you going to see Astarion?” She pauses for dramatic effect. “I’m not sure he’ll be up for visitors. We’ve been having so much fun every night. He is quite generous, but you would know all about that, wouldn’t you? Sweet thing, you know what I mean by ‘fun,’ right? Or would you like me to spell it out for you? Sex, sweetness. I mean sex.”

Despite your frazzled state, your heart shatters at the thought of him with her. A single tear escapes your eye, tracing a path down your cheek as the image takes root in your mind.

“I’d offer to buy you a drink, but it looks like you’ve had one too many already.”

Pure rage surges through your veins, igniting your palm in an instant as flames flicker and dance over your skin. “The only drink I would ever accept from you is your blood. Every. Last. Drop.”

You don’t typically feed on the blood of living creatures, but you’d make an exception for this wretch. Standing tall, your fury cuts through the haze clouding your thoughts, bringing clarity for the first time in days.

A menacing grin spreads across your face as you will the flames in your palm to grow into a massive, glowing sphere. “Or I could just reduce you to a heap of ash where you stand.”

The woman’s mouth drops open, her eyes widening as she stares at the fire blazing in your palm. “Pardon me?”

“I’m sorry, sugar,” you mock, “Do you need me to spell it out for you? I will kill you!”

“Astarion will not be pleased if you kill his lover.”

Her emphasis on the word lover makes your stomach twist, and you grit your teeth, your jaw clenching hard.

A sinister laugh escapes you as you fix her with an intimidating gaze. “Well, Astarion isn’t here to save you now, is he?”

You see her confidence waver; the broad, toothy grin that once adorned her delicate features falters under your dangerous glare. Her heartbeat quickens, its rhythm echoing like a grand symphony in your ears, the scent of fear clinging to the chilly breeze. To your great displeasure, she quickly regains her composure, her fake smile reappearing on her rosy lips as if nothing had happened.

“I’m sure we’ll meet again soon,” she says, her tone dripping with feigned friendliness.

It sounds almost like a promise, and you pray it’s not one.

“Surely, you should be in a better mood by then. Have a lovely night!”

The picture-perfect mulberry-haired woman swaggers off down the road, disappearing into the murky shadows of an alleyway. As the fireball hovering above your palm extinguishes, your fury ebbs away.

I should have eaten her.

The path to the palace door is long and meanders slightly uphill. The stupor clouding your mind rushes back as your adrenaline wanes, plunging you into that dreamlike state once more. Hesitation grips you at the threshold of the Crimson Palace.

You’ve escaped him twice already, and yet here you are, willingly returning to ask for his help. He would likely slam the door in your face at best—or worse, throw you into the kennels. The wound in your side throbs maddeningly, a cruel reminder of why you’re standing here in the first place.

Lacking the coordination for a proper knock, you slam the palm of your hand against the ornate door, the impact sending a sweet sting through your fingers. Moments pass in silence, the quiet stretching interminably with no response from inside.

Of course. You sag against the door, closing your heavy eyes with a weary sigh. I am so tired.

Suddenly, the hefty door swings open, and you stumble forward, unable to regain your balance. Astarion’s arms slip under yours, catching you mid-fall. “Little love, you simply must stop falling for me like this.”

He sets you back on your feet, his arm extending to steady you, but you push it away, still irked by your encounter with that insufferable woman. Without waiting for an invitation, you stagger weakly into the palace.

Astarion’s eyebrow arches at your awkward lumbering. “Do come in.”

“I hate her.”

“Who are you referring to, my dear?”

“That… that fucking trollop!” you spit, venom seeping into your words. The dim room sways around you, and your speech becomes slurred. “I’m going to eat her one day.”

His eyebrows rise in an annoyingly handsome expression. “Well, now I’m intrigued. Do tell me who you’re talking about?”

Jealousy burns hot through your veins. “Your… your purple-haired hussy!”

A wide grin spreads across his face. “I see. I knew you were jealous, but murderous? I’m impressed.”

His forehead furrows slightly as he cocks his head. “Although, you don’t look entirely like yourself.”

“Something is wrong with me.”

“Now that, my treasure, is something we can agree on.”

Rolling your eyes, you push on. “I need help.”

“Petitioning me for help, are you? Cute.”

You huff in exasperation. “You know what? This was a bad idea. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” You turn toward the door, stumbling awkwardly.

“Wait.”

His hand reaches out, tenderly wrapping around your forearm to steady you. You meet his gaze. Is that concern reflected in those deep crimson irises?

I must be truly delirious.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“The wound from the stake isn’t healing.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Show me.”

Your fingers fumble with the lace ties of your robe in a disoriented frenzy. The world sways around you like trees in a blustery wind. Cursing under your breath, you squint, trying to focus. Astarion steps closer, enough that you can finally see him clearly. He’s shirtless, his trousers untied at the front.

Good Gods…

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” you murmur dreamily, giggling at the sudden sense of freedom. You feel unburdened, as if a great weight has been lifted from your shoulders, free from the fear and sadness that once hollowed you out.

“Yes, I believe you’ve mentioned it a time or two, but please, do feel free to tell me again.”

You stop fumbling with your robe, looking up at him with doe eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

“You are in quite the state, aren’t you?”

His hands brush yours away as he deftly unties the laces of your robe.

“Hey… rude.” You stick your tongue out at him playfully.

As you lose your balance, your hand finds the smooth skin of his shoulder for support. His body tenses under your touch, muscles taut.

A sharp pang of guilt washes over you. “Sorry.”

You withdraw your hand, but he catches it, placing it back on his shoulder as he undoes the remaining laces binding your robe.

Astarion gently slips your robe over your shoulders, letting it fall to the ground around your feet, leaving you in your undergarments. His gaze fixes intently on the blood-soaked bandages wrapped carelessly around your abdomen.

“May I?” he asks, gesturing to the sodden dressing. “I need to examine it.”

“I can do it.”

He scoffs. “My dear, you can barely stand. How about you just focus on keeping that pretty face off my floor?”

You mimic his scoff but nod in consent. “I hate her.”

“Yes,” he chuckles lightly, “we’ve established that.”

“Do you love her?”

The question slips from your lips before you can stop yourself.

Do I even want to know?

His expression falters as if he’s tripped over your boldness. “Am I capable of love?”

“I don’t know. Are you? Loving your reflection doesn’t count.”

He smirks. “Hold onto me.”

“What?” you ask, confusion lacing your voice.

“Little love, you are not wearing those grimy boots in my house. They need to come off.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

“My dear, we’ve been through this. For once, will you just listen to me?” Astarion kneels before you, one knee on the floor. “Are you ready?”

Tentatively, you reach out, placing both hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as he lifts your weak, trembling leg and begins to slip off your boots.

“What are these?” he asks, glancing down at the jagged cuts your fingernails have made on your legs in a futile attempt to fight your revolting temptations.

“They’re nothing,” you reply, dismissing them.

Astarion studies the marks, running his fingers over the irregular gouges. He leans in closer, and you instinctively try to pull back, but he grabs your leg firmly, holding it in place while giving you a stern look.

When you stop resisting, he leans in and places gentle kisses along the long wounds, slowly trailing them up toward the apex of your thighs. You squirm under his touch, heat rising in your cheeks, but he stops short, teasing you. Moving to your other leg, he repeats the process, sliding off the boot while you use his body to steady yourself, trailing soft kisses along the cuts once more before pausing again.

Unable to restrain yourself, you let out a loud groan.

He rises to his full height, careful not to throw you off balance since his body is your only support. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He motions for you to follow him deeper into the palace, but your legs buckle beneath you.

Before you can fall again, his arm hooks under your knees while the other cradles your back, effortlessly sweeping you off your feet.

“I can walk,” you protest weakly.

“Truly? Can you?” he replies, his voice dripping with mock melodrama. A laugh rumbles in his throat.

He’s having too much fun at my expense.

Astarion carries you through the familiar dark halls you once called home, moving with an agile grace. The floor barely creaks beneath him, his footsteps nearly silent.

Candlelight bathes the bedroom in a saffron-coloured warmth. The room smells pleasantly like finely aged brandy, bergamot, and rosemary. It smells of him, and that comfortable recognition envelopes you. Astarion eases you down on the fine, silk bed cover, taking care not to jostle you about. Grabbing a clean cloth, he wets it in the washbasin perched on a carved table. He crouches smoothly, positioning himself between your legs.

Oh…

Memories flash across your vision of him in the forest clearing, him in that bedroom the night he turned you, and heat pools between your legs. A needy groan escapes your lips as you tear your eyes off of him meekly. If your heart could beat, it would be battering against your ribs as if it were trying to rip itself from your bosom. A sensual chuckle rattles deep in his chest, fully aware of what he’s doing.

Oh, fuck.

You are starved for physical affection, having spent the last year distanced from your friends or locked away entirely. They had tried to comfort you, of course, but you couldn’t be trusted to get too close to anyone with a heartbeat. Except for a few brief uncomfortable hugs or reassuring squeezes of your hand, you haven’t been touched since before you fled this place. You craved it like the desert sands crave moisture during a drought.

You struggle to push yourself further up the bed and away from him. You squeeze your legs together, trying to shut him out. You feel too vulnerable, almost stripped bare with your legs spread, and entirely too aroused, given the predicament you currently find yourself in.

His hand grips your thigh tenderly but firmly, keeping it to the side and pinning you in your place.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts, “hold still.”

You groan loudly and cover your face with your hands, surrendering to him.

“Good girl.”

With light, gentle strokes, he begins to wipe the smeared blood from your midsection, his brow furrowing with curiosity as he examines the injury. Blood continues to seep gradually from the wound, dark streaks spreading like inky tendrils across your ghostly skin. He presses his fingers into the gash, coating them in crimson.

You wince at the uncomfortable pressure. “What are you doing?”

His crimson eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes you hold your breath—a reflex you can’t shake. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, he sucks on them, all while holding your gaze. It’s oddly sensual until his face twists into a grimace, and he spits your blood onto the cloth.

“Poison. You need an antidote and rest, pet.”

“Don’t call me ‘pet.’”

“I’ll call you whatever I like,” he hisses.

“Why do you do this?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he pouts sarcastically.

“Don’t you? You swing from one extreme to the next so fast I can hardly keep up. One moment you’re nice, and the next, you treat me like a possession.”

He frowns, his gaze unwavering. “You do belong to me. I made sure of it.”

He’s trying to get under my skin.

“Yes, you did. Are you proud of yourself, love?”

“Indeed I am.”

You grumble under your breath, “Pompous prick.”

He laughs, the sound rich and teasing. “Sassy tonight, aren’t we?”

"You didn’t answer my question."

A malevolent smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, reaching his eyes. “I rather enjoy you like this, you know.”

You swallow hard. “Like what?”

“Nearly naked, laid out before me on my bed, and entirely at my mercy.”

You level a glowering look at him. “You don’t scare me.”

If nothing else, your hazy mental state gives you a strange courage, or perhaps you’re just too far gone to feel fear. Either way, speaking your mind feels liberating. You have muzzled yourself too often around him, but now the muzzle is off, and your fangs are bared—so to speak.

“Oh?” he pouts innocently. “I suppose I’ll have to try harder, then, won’t I?”

“I suppose you will if that’s what gets you going.”

“I would be happy to demonstrate what gets me going.”

Astarion rises slowly from his crouched position between your legs, his hand gliding leisurely up your body, delicately skimming over every curve. You try to push him away, but it’s like a feather trying to displace a brick wall. His knee nudges your legs further apart, and he presses his hips against you, anchoring you between him and the bed. The friction is exhilarating, sending waves of need rocketing through you. You would be lying if you said his proximity was entirely unwelcome.

“When did you eat last?” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours.

What a weird question.

“Why? What difference does it make?” You squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the pressure of his body against yours.

“I have my reasons, darling.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Which are?”

“None of your concern,” he replies curtly. “When did you eat last? I won’t ask again.”

Do I dare? Yes. Yes, I think I dare.

You meet his gaze directly, challenging him. “None of your concern.”

Astarion scowls harshly. “Shall I force you to tell me, my sweet, sweet spawn?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, though it makes your stomach lurch. Fighting the wave of nausea, you continue, “If you’re going to force me, then just do it already. I’m beyond sick of your threats.”

Abruptly, he pushes himself back, severing the decadent friction you had been savouring. He paces menacingly in front of you, a terrifying expression painted across his features. Astarion strides over to a cabinet and flings the door open with such force that it nearly comes off its hinges. He grabs a bottle and returns to you, his cold red eyes simmering with animosity.

“Drink this and get out.”

He tosses the bottle onto the bed beside you.

You finger it hesitantly. “What is it?”

“Antidote. Drink it and leave.”

“Fine.”

With that, Astarion vanishes into the shadows of the hallway. You raise the bottle to your lips and down its contents as quickly as you can, trying to minimize the taste. Unfortunately, it still makes you want to gag. The antidote works fast. You watch as the blood continues to ooze from your wound, but its flow begins to slow, the inky black streaks receding bit by bit. The haze clouding your mind starts to clear, and you find yourself feeling more lucid... mostly.

You manage to sit up on the bed, but your limbs are still weak, trembling, and uncooperative. Just as you wrestle with your balance, Astarion returns, tossing your robe onto the floor at your feet.

Once you get your boots on and stumble toward the door, you realize that dawn is creeping closer.

I don’t have enough time to get back.

“Astarion, dawn is soon. I’ll—”

He cuts you off, his voice icy. “Burn, yes. I am aware.”

I pushed him too far.

His brows draw down into a sinister glare. “Run, little lamb."

Big thank you to everyone who takes the time to read/follow/like/reblog/comment/etc -- I hope you're enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it :)

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I have another with Spawn Astarion x Tav called -Shadows of the Past

AO3 [Crossposted]

#bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion x you #astarion x reader #ascended astarion #bg3 #astarion smut #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fangs and fractured hearts

195 notes · View notes

aghost-writer · 6 days ago

Text

Enough

Chapter 5

This is a Yandere MHA/BNHA x Female Reader Fic!

MDNI!!

Y/N stood in the shadow of the alley, her back pressed against the cold brick wall as she wiped her bloodied hands on the least-soiled part of her hoodie. She didn’t know how much time had passed since the incident, but the adrenaline was starting to fade, leaving her body heavy and aching. The street was quiet, too quiet, but the eerie stillness was broken by the unmistakable sound of flapping wings, growing louder with each passing second.

She lifted her head, her tired eyes narrowing as she saw the familiar figure of Hawks descending toward her with his usual grace. His wings shimmered in the dim light, and he landed with a soft thud, his smirk already forming on his lips.

"Miss Quirkless," he began, his voice laced with teasing. "Calling me for help? What happened? Break a nail?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the humor faded quickly as she took in the sight of him standing before her. Hawks might have been known for his laid-back attitude, but Y/N knew him well enough to see that something had shifted in his demeanor. His golden eyes scanned her from head to toe, his gaze quickly taking in her blood-soaked hands, her disheveled appearance, and the torn sleeve barely concealing the freshly healed wound on her arm. His usual smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of concern that quickly turned into something unreadable.

“What the hell happened to you?” Hawks asked, his tone sharper now, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer. “You look like you just crawled out of a war zone.”

Y/N immediately held up her good hand, a reflex to deflect any further scrutiny. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, her voice a little too forceful. “There was a villain attack.”

Hawks’s wings flared slightly, his posture tense as his eyes locked onto hers. “A villain attack?!” His voice was louder now, tinged with disbelief. “Where? Who—”

“I didn’t get a good look at them,” she interrupted, shaking her head as she stepped back from the wall. “It all happened so fast. But that’s not the point.” She exhaled, trying to push the nagging panic down into the pit of her stomach. “I need your help, Hawks.”

The tension between them seemed to thicken in the air. Y/N didn’t want to get into the details of what had actually happened—what had led her to this alley, bloodied and bruised. She didn’t want him asking questions that would lead to more explanations, to more complications. What mattered now was getting through the day, and for that, she needed him.

“I have the U.A. business college entrance exam today,” Y/N continued, her voice steady but edged with desperation. She gestured down at her bloodied hoodie, grimacing at the state she was in. “And I can’t exactly show up looking like…this.”

Hawks stared at her for a long, quiet moment. His usual cocky expression was gone, replaced by a hardness in his gaze as he surveyed her. His eyes flicked from her bloodied hands to the splatters on her hoodie, lingering for a moment too long. He was good at reading people, good at figuring out the unspoken details, and Y/N could almost feel him piecing things together in his head. But she didn’t want to think about that. Not now.

“You’re lucky you called me,” he finally said, his voice lowering to something more serious. The playful teasing was gone, replaced by a rare edge of concern. “This is bad, Y/N. If anyone sees you like this…”

“I know,” she said, cutting him off with a quiet urgency. Her eyes fell to the ground for a moment, her fingers curling into fists. “That’s why I called you.. I- I trust you” She paused before lifting her gaze back to him. “I can’t risk going back home, and I don’t have time to deal with this myself. Can you help me or not?”

Hawks sighed, a long exhale that carried a mix of frustration and resignation. He gave her a long look, his wings twitching slightly as though they were just as restless as he felt. Y/N watched him closely, feeling the tension coil tighter in her chest. She knew that if anyone could get her out of this mess, it was him.

After what felt like an eternity, his smirk returned, though it was softer this time, less teasing and more understanding. “Alright, alright,” he said, his voice lightening again. “I’ve got your back, Miss Quirkless. Let’s get you cleaned up and ready to ace that exam.” He extended his hand toward her, his wings folding behind him in a relaxed, almost casual manner. But then he raised a finger, a small glint of amusement in his eyes. “But,” he added, his voice taking on a more serious note, “you owe me a story later. Deal?”

Y/N hesitated, eyeing his outstretched hand. She didn’t want to owe him anything—not after everything. But what other choice did she have? She couldn’t keep running away from problems, couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.

“Deal,” she muttered, already regretting the decision but knowing it was her only option. She forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace, as she finally took his hand. The warmth of his touch was a small comfort, but the unease in her chest still gnawed at her.

“Good,” Hawks said with a nod, his usual playful tone returning as he gave her a once-over. “Let’s just hope this business school of yours is worth all this trouble.”

Y/N wasn’t sure what to make of his comment, but she didn’t have time to think about it. She was already on a tight schedule—her future was literally on the line today, and she couldn’t afford any more distractions. With a quick tug, Hawks led her toward the edge of the alley, his wings unfurling as they began to take off into the night sky.

As they soared into the air, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the weight of the moment. She was about to face the most important day of her life, and she had no idea how it would all turn out. Would she make it to the exam? Would she even pass? All she could do now was trust that Hawks would get her through this, even if she wasn’t sure what the cost would be.

In the end, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t afford to think about the future—only the exam, only the chance to prove herself. And with Hawks by her side, she had one less thing to worry about. For now, that would have to be enough.

Y/N sat in the quiet of a private room at U.A., the walls pale and unassuming, the air still and cool. The only sounds were the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead, the occasional shuffle of paper, and the soft scrape of her pen as it moved across the business entrance exam papers in front of her. She was wearing Hawks’ jacket, the oversized fabric draped awkwardly over her frame. The jacket's scent of citrus and wood lingered faintly in the air, an odd comfort, but Y/N made an effort to ignore it. Her mind was too occupied with other things. Things she didn’t want to think about.

The events of the morning felt like they had happened days ago, the adrenaline having long since drained from her body, leaving behind only exhaustion. Her arms still ached from the injury she had healed on the way to U.A before Hawks., and her mind kept wandering back to the encounter with Hawks. The sight of him swooping in to help her, his teasing tone lightening the mood even in the midst of the chaos, had been something she hadn’t expected. It was strange, that small sense of reassurance he’d given her. Hawks was unpredictable, and his help had been no less so, but in that moment, she’d taken comfort in his presence. Still, she couldn’t shake the strange feeling in her gut as she sat now in this sterile room, her future hanging on what she had just written down.

The door clicked open, and the sound of footsteps followed. Y/N didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Nezu, the principal of U.A., entered with a quiet grace, his small stature making his presence all the more commanding. He walked slowly across the room, the delicate porcelain cup of tea in his hands, his sharp, black eyes studying her with an unsettling, yet oddly reassuring calm.

“Are you comfortable, Miss L/N?” Nezu’s voice broke the silence, polite yet filled with a touch of curiosity.

Y/N straightened in her seat, feeling the jacket slip further down her shoulders as she adjusted herself. “Yes, thank you,” she replied, her voice a little more strained than she intended. The jacket, too large for her, seemed to only amplify the feeling of discomfort. But she was here to focus, to show that she was more than just a girl with no quirk, and she wasn’t about to let anything distract her.

Nezu tilted his head slightly, his beady eyes scrutinizing her. “Good,” he said, his tone measured. “Take your time, and do your best. I’ll be here if you have any questions.”

Y/N nodded, grateful for the space to think. The last thing she needed was more pressure. She shifted in her seat, briefly glancing at the exam papers in front of her. The first question was about business theory, something she had studied countless times during her preparation. The pressure of the moment gnawed at her, but she ignored it, gripping the pen tightly and beginning to write.

Her mind focused, and she lost herself in the rhythm of the exam. It was challenging, of course—business theory, financial strategies, and practical applications were all difficult subjects to master, especially with the added weight of today’s circumstances—but she pushed through, the words flowing from her pen despite the occasional tremor in her hand. The silence in the room, while serene, was almost suffocating. Nezu’s quiet presence across from her only made her feel more aware of his watchful eyes, but she forced herself not to think about it. He wasn’t here to judge; he was simply observing, something she could deal with.

She glanced at the clock. Time seemed to move both slowly and too quickly at once. Hours passed in relative silence, broken only by the occasional scratch of her pencil against the paper, the sound of Nezu sipping tea. His movements were deliberate, slow, as if savoring each sip, but Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching her every move. His sharp eyes flicked between her answers and the papers she had yet to fill out. For some reason, it felt like more than just an exam. She couldn’t help but wonder what Nezu saw when he looked at her. Was he just analyzing her performance? Or was he, perhaps, measuring her potential?

Her hand began to cramp as the hours dragged on, her wrist stiff from the constant motion. She tried to push past the discomfort, but it was hard to ignore. She had to finish—there was no option but to complete the exam, no room for failure. When she finally placed the pencil down, there was a small sigh of relief, a quiet release of tension. She leaned back in the chair, stretching her fingers and rolling her shoulders in an attempt to shake off the stiffness that had settled in her body. The room felt colder now, and the weight of the exam’s finality hung in the air like a heavy fog.

Nezu placed his teacup gently on its saucer, his sharp gaze never leaving her. There was no smile, no indication of approval or disapproval, but he gave her a small nod, his tone calm and measured. “Well done, Miss L/N,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’ll review your answers, but from what I observed, you approached the exam with confidence and diligence. Regardless of the results, you should be proud of your effort.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his words. It wasn’t that she hadn’t expected praise, but there was something about the way he said it that felt different. There was no sarcasm, no dismissive tone, only quiet acknowledgment. She felt her heart skip a beat as she nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “Thank you,” she said quietly, the exhaustion weighing on her voice but mixing with a flicker of relief.

Nezu began gathering the exam papers, his movements slow and deliberate as he prepared to leave. Y/N remained still, allowing herself a few moments to collect her thoughts before standing. She glanced down at the oversized jacket once more. Hawks’ jacket was warm, comforting, but it also felt like a reminder of how strange her morning had been—how much had changed in such a short amount of time. She had been fighting not just villains but her own doubts, her own insecurities, and she had made it here, to this moment.

Outside the door, she could hear muffled voices. One of them unmistakably belonged to Hawks. She could almost hear the playful edge in his voice as he teased her, probably about how serious she had looked during the exam. Despite everything, the thought of his teasing made her smile, though she was quick to suppress it. She couldn’t afford to lose focus now.

“Miss L/N,” Nezu’s voice snapped her back to reality. “Before you go, I’d like to say I appreciate your determination. It’s not every day someone with your… circumstances applies to U.A. Business College.” He paused, his gaze sharp as he studied her. “I look forward to seeing how you’ll contribute to our community.”

Y/N froze, unsure of what Nezu meant by “circumstances.” His words felt like they carried weight, like he knew more about her than she had expected. Was he hinting at something? Or was he simply referring to her lack of a quirk? She swallowed, not wanting to overthink it. “Thank you, Principal Nezu,” she said, her voice steady despite the confusion swirling in her mind.

With that, she stood, adjusting the jacket once more around her shoulders, the fabric slipping a little too far down her arms. As she made her way to the door, a quiet determination settled in her chest. Whatever was waiting for her outside, whether it was Hawks’ endless teasing or the next challenge, she was ready. She was one step closer to her goal, no matter how many obstacles lay ahead.

Y/N stepped out of the private exam room, the door clicking shut softly behind her. The low hum of the fluorescent lights in the hallway seemed louder now that she was outside the quiet room, but the sounds of the busy school day filtered in from further down the hall. Just as she expected, Hawks was waiting for her. He leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. The moment he saw her, a playful glint appeared in his amber eyes, and he pushed himself off the wall with an exaggerated stretch.

“Well, Miss Quirkless,” he greeted with his usual teasing lilt, “how’d it go? You didn’t pass out or set anything on fire, did you?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, the jacket hanging loosely around her shoulders feeling far too big for her. She tugged it tighter, both to fend off the slight chill in the air and to avoid the embarrassment of wearing something so clearly not her size. “It went fine,” she replied in a flat tone, brushing past him without making eye contact.

Hawks wasn’t about to let her escape that easily. He easily fell into step beside her, his usual swagger evident in the way he walked, wings folded neatly behind him. “Fine, huh? You don’t sound very confident. Maybe I should’ve been your tutor, though I’m more of a heroic speeches kind of guy than a business guru.” He tilted his head, smirking at her, clearly enjoying the moment. “Speaking of which, why the business school? You’re not planning on running a coffee empire, are you?”

Y/N stopped in her tracks, a jolt of irritation coursing through her. She spun to face him, her expression sharp. “Why not the business school?” she asked, her voice colder than she intended. “I have no interest in being a hero, unlike half the population of this city.” Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much, but his question felt dismissive, as though she didn’t belong in a world where people with powers dominated the headlines. Heroes were everywhere, and she wasn’t one of them. She was just... her.

Hawks chuckled, a rich sound that seemed to fill the hallway. He raised his hands in mock surrender, the smile never leaving his face. “Fair enough, Miss Quirkless. But I’ve gotta say, you don’t strike me as the pencil-pushing type. Just curious, that’s all.” The teasing edge in his voice softened for a moment, his expression turning more thoughtful. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice quiet, genuine even.

Y/N hesitated, the anger and irritation draining from her as exhaustion settled in. Her shoulders slumped, and she exhaled slowly, trying to push down the feeling that had been gnawing at her since she’d stepped into the exam room. “I’m sure,” she muttered, her voice quiet. It wasn’t like she’d had much of a choice. This was the path she’d chosen for herself, and despite the unease that lingered in her chest, it was the one she needed to follow. She wasn’t going to let herself back out now.

“Now, can you please help me get out of here?” she asked, her voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t want anyone to see me like this.” She gestured vaguely at the oversized jacket, her hair slightly messy, and the general disheveled state she was in. The last thing she wanted was attention right now.

Hawks raised an eyebrow, as if he were about to make some playful comment, but the look in her eyes must have told him something was off. His wings shifted slightly, and he nodded. “Alright, alright. I’ll be your chauffeur, but only because you’ve had a rough day.” He grinned at her, showing that trademark cocky smile, though there was a softness to it. “This way, then. I’ll make sure no one sees you. Not that anyone would mind seeing you wearing my jacket, of course.”

Y/N shot him a withering look, her irritation flaring again, but it only made him laugh. She wasn’t in the mood to banter, though it was hard to ignore the ease with which he carried himself, the carefree attitude that she wished she could mirror right now. She just wanted to get out of there, to avoid the looks she knew would follow if people saw her in her current state.

As they walked through the hallways, the sounds of students in the classrooms and in the corridors faded into the background. Y/N pulled out her phone, hoping the distraction would help her shake off the lingering discomfort. But the moment she unlocked the screen, her stomach sank. Dozens of notifications from Izuku stared back at her, each one a reminder of the promise she’d broken earlier. She hadn’t been able to make it to the meeting point before the exam; she’d gotten caught up in everything, lost track of time, and now she was faced with the consequences.

Each message felt like a weight in her chest:

“Hey, are you okay? You’re not answering.”

“Did something happen?”

“I’m waiting where we said. Let me know if you’re still coming.”

“Y/N??”

Her heart twisted painfully in her chest as guilt surged through her. She clenched the phone tightly in her hand, stopping mid-step as a wave of regret flooded her. Izuku had been worried, and she hadn’t even bothered to explain why she was late, let alone why she hadn’t shown up at all. She had completely lost track of time, and now he was waiting for her, possibly feeling confused or upset.

Hawks noticed her sudden pause and turned his head to glance over his shoulder. His usual teasing smile had faded, replaced by a more thoughtful look. “Something wrong?” he asked, his voice more subdued now, a hint of concern slipping through his usual playful tone.

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat tight. She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak just yet. “Nothing,” she muttered, stuffing her phone back into her bag before he could see the messages. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Hawks didn’t press her, though the look in his eyes said he noticed her change in demeanor. He didn’t say anything more, but his wings stretched slightly, the feathers ruffling as he turned and gestured ahead of them. “Alright, then. Let’s fly, Miss Quirkless. Time’s wasting.”

Y/N nodded, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She stepped forward, letting him take the lead as he guided her toward the exit. But even as they moved through the halls and out of the building, her mind remained fixated on Izuku’s texts. She’d have to explain herself later, but the guilt weighed heavily on her. She hoped he wouldn’t be too upset when she did.

Hawks led her outside and spread his wings wide, ready to lift them into the air. The world beyond the walls of U.A. was waiting for her, but for the moment, it felt like she was stuck in this limbo, between what she had promised and what had happened. No matter how fast they flew, the anxiety would linger until she had the chance to face the consequences.

Izuku winced as Recovery Girl worked her healing magic on his broken fingers, the tingling sensation easing the pain, but it did little to calm the storm brewing in his mind. The pain in his hands had become secondary to the gnawing anxiety in his chest. He had just finished the exam, and the physical ache was nothing compared to the weight of the worry pressing down on him. His phone lay beside him on the infirmary bed, its screen dark, the silence mocking him as he waited, still hoping for a response.

Y/N had yet to answer any of his messages. Not one. His thumb hovered over the screen again, but he couldn’t bring himself to check it. The blank screen felt like an omen, and the longer the silence stretched on, the more it gnawed at him.

Maybe something happened, he thought, his chest tightening in a familiar, anxious knot. He had sent her multiple texts, the last one just before the exam started, promising he’d meet her afterward to catch up. But now, with the exam over and the hours stretching by, there had been no response.

Did she change her mind about meeting up? he wondered, the thought bitter in his mouth. It didn’t make sense—Y/N had always been so reliable, so steady. They had always supported each other. But now... now, there was nothing.

Did she even take the exam? Izuku’s heart lurched at the thought. He couldn’t imagine that Y/N wouldn’t show up, not after everything they had been through together. She was always strong, always determined, even when the world seemed to have turned its back on her. But the longer the silence stretched, the more that small doubt crept in. What if she decided it wasn’t worth it? What if—

The thought hit him suddenly and with such force that it took his breath away.

Maybe she doesn’t want to be friends anymore. Maybe she’s moved on.

His heart dropped into his stomach. The idea was so foreign, so unbearable, that he couldn’t shake it. They had always been there for each other, through thick and thin. Y/N had been the one person who never judged him for being quirkless. When everyone else had ignored him or treated him like he didn’t matter, she had stayed by his side. She had been his anchor, the one who always reminded him that his worth wasn’t tied to his lack of a quirk.

But now, the silence felt deafening. He had thought about her constantly over the past few days, wondering how she was doing, if she was okay, but there was nothing. No messages. No calls. Nothing.

Izuku sat up suddenly, the movement jerky, his fingers aching with the effort, and Recovery Girl immediately scolded him.

“Sit down, young man! You’ve already broken enough bones for one day,” she said sharply, but when she saw the distress in his face, her tone softened. “Now, what’s got you so wound up? You should be proud of yourself for making it through the exam.”

He didn’t respond immediately, instead staring blankly ahead. The words didn’t quite register, and when they did, they felt distant, like they belonged to someone else. He gave a distracted nod, muttering a quiet, “Thank you,” but his mind was elsewhere. It wasn’t the exam that troubled him, not really. It was the nagging worry that something was wrong. Something was always wrong when Y/N went silent. She had always been the one who checked in on him, who encouraged him even when he thought he couldn’t go on. And now…

Maybe she doesn’t care anymore.

The thought pained him more than anything. His chest felt heavy, as if a weight were pressing down on him, threatening to crush him. He could still remember the times when she stood up for him, when no one else did.

He clenched his fists involuntarily, the movement reminding him of the pain in his fingers. The memory of her taking the brunt of Kacchan’s explosive temper for him flashed before his eyes. Y/N had always been so brave. She had never hesitated to protect him, even when it seemed like everyone else was against him. She didn’t deserve any of it—not the teasing, not the bullying. And yet, she’d endured it without complaint.

When her father had pulled her out of school, forcing her into online classes, it had felt like he’d lost her. He had tried to stay in touch, but it wasn’t the same. He couldn’t see her face, hear her voice as much as he needed to. It had been a lonely time for him, but she hadn’t abandoned him. She kept texting him, encouraging him, reminding him to keep going, to keep chasing his dream. She had been his constant, the one person who truly believed in him.

But now… now she was silent.

Izuku stared at his phone again, willing it to ring, to buzz with a new message, but nothing happened. His thoughts spiraled in a chaotic loop, each one darker than the last. Did I do something wrong? He thought back to their last conversation, trying to pinpoint anything that could have upset her. Had he said something careless? Had he acted in a way that pushed her away? He couldn’t remember anything, but the doubts gnawed at him nonetheless.

What if she’s in trouble? The thought hit him hard, and a fresh wave of panic gripped him. What if something had happened to her? What if she’d gotten hurt? What if—

“Midoriya!” Recovery Girl’s sharp voice sliced through the haze of his thoughts, and he blinked, shaking his head as though trying to clear it. She had placed a hand on his shoulder, her kind eyes filled with concern.

“Whatever’s going on, you need to calm down. Worrying yourself sick won’t help anyone,” she said gently, though there was a firm edge to her voice.

Izuku took a shaky breath, nodding, but it did little to calm the storm in his chest. “Y-You’re right,” he mumbled, his voice unsteady. He tried to relax, to follow her instructions, but his heart refused to listen.

As Recovery Girl finished patching him up, Izuku made a silent vow to himself. If something had happened to Y/N, he would find out. He wouldn’t let her slip away, not again. He wouldn’t lose the one person who had always been there for him.

Even as he forced himself to lie back and rest, his mind stayed on her. Y/N was the only true friend he had ever had. The thought of losing her, of her walking away from him, was unbearable. But the idea of her being in danger, of her being hurt and alone, was even worse.

Please be okay, Y/N, he thought desperately, gripping his phone tightly in his hand. Please, just be okay.

Kai’s fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white as he paced back and forth in his room, the anger coursing through him like an uncontrollable storm. His mind was spinning, his thoughts trapped in an endless loop that brought him no relief. Y/N had left. Gone. Without a glance back.

UA. The words echoed in his head, each repetition a reminder of the betrayal that cut deeper than any wound. She had chosen them—the heroes, the people who didn’t understand her, didn’t care about her the way he did. She had chosen that damn school over him, over everything they had. The thought made his chest tighten, his blood boiling with each passing second.

She’s choosing them over me, he thought bitterly. His hands trembled, his fists tightening until his nails dug into his palms. He could feel his blood pressure rising with each step, with each thought that twisted inside him. She had turned her back on him—the one person who had always been there for her. The one person who truly cared.

Kai’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together as the memories of their time together rushed back, unbidden and painful. He had protected her, always. She had been his light, his reason for fighting, even when everything else seemed meaningless. And now, she was walking away. For what? To chase a dream that didn’t involve him, to surround herself with strangers who would never understand the bond they shared. The thought of her among those heroes, the so-called “rats,” made his stomach churn.

She doesn’t even realize what she’s throwing away, he thought, the anger growing, consuming him. She’s turning her back on everything we’ve built. Everything I’ve done for her.

His hand shot out, slamming into the wall with a force that made the drywall crack under his fist. The sound was deafening, but it did nothing to dull the raw, unrelenting fury that raged inside him. His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, the room feeling smaller, suffocating, as the intensity of his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

I’ve done everything for her, he thought, his mind spiraling further into frustration. I’ve sacrificed everything for her. And this is how she repays me?

His heart pounded in his chest as he thought of the moments leading up to her departure. She had left without even letting him check on her arm, without giving him the chance to make sure she was okay. She had run from him, from the one person who would never abandon her.

A heavy, sinking feeling settled in his chest as the realization began to settle in, like a dark cloud hanging over him. She had chosen to leave him. She doesn’t need me anymore.

The words felt like they were suffocating him, like they were wrapped around his throat, tightening with every passing second. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think clearly. All he could focus on was the hollow, empty feeling that was starting to spread inside him. The truth was unbearable.

But then… The thought hit him with the force of a physical blow, one that left him breathless, disoriented. She’s not just my sister. I’ve always loved her.

His breath caught in his throat as the weight of the realization crashed down on him. His mind flashed to the memories of their childhood, back when things had been simpler, when they had been just two kids living in a world that hadn’t yet become so dark, so twisted. She had been his constant then, the one person who never looked at him with fear or judgment.

She had been everything to him, and the thought of losing her now… it was unbearable. He had spent so long keeping her close, protecting her from the world—protecting her from himself. He had always believed that he could keep her safe, that no one could ever hurt her as long as he was around. He had failed her in so many ways, but he never imagined she would walk away.

She’s mine, the thought came like a fierce, primal growl, a conviction that surged through him with all the force of a tidal wave. She’s mine. She belongs with me. No one else will ever understand her like I do. No one will ever protect her like I can.

His hands balled into fists once more, nails biting into his palms as his mind raced. His breath was coming in shallow gasps now, the anger turning into something more dangerous—something darker. He couldn’t just let her go. He wouldn’t.

The thought of her out there, surrounded by people who couldn’t see her the way he did, who would never protect her the way he had, made his blood run cold. They wouldn’t understand her. They wouldn’t know how to keep her safe. They didn’t deserve her.

He couldn’t just sit by and let her slip away. He wouldn’t allow it. If he had to burn everything to the ground to get her back, to make her see that she was meant to be with him, he would.

He would make her see the truth. He would make her understand that she couldn’t run from him, from everything they had. He couldn’t lose her—not now, not ever.

His chest heaved as his mind raced with darker thoughts, but beneath the rage, beneath the desperation, there was something else—something deeper. A burning need, an insatiable hunger to reclaim what was his.

I’ll get her back, he thought with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. I’ll make her see. She belongs with me. She’s mine. And I’ll never let her go.

His hands tightened once again, the pain in his fists a small, distant thing compared to the torment inside him. His mind raced with plans, with schemes, with everything he could do to make sure she came back to him.

Because there was no world in which he would let her go. Not when she had been the only light in his dark, twisted world. He had always loved her, and he would make her understand that she could never escape him.

She was his, and he would burn everything to the ground to keep her.

Y/N leaned against the cool brick wall of the alley, staring down at the bloodstains on her clothes, her heart racing with a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite place. The exams were over, Hawks jacket was returned, and everything had happened so fast—too fast. Her mind was still spinning, trying to make sense of it all, but she was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. The only thing she wanted now was to be left alone.

Except, Hawks wasn’t the type of person to let her hide away for long.

She could feel his presence behind her, the familiar weight of his eyes on her as he stood in front of her, his wings unfurled slightly as if ready to shield her from anything or anyone who might pose a threat. His golden eyes flicked over her body, and she could tell he was taking in every detail—the blood on her clothes, the way she was standing, the subtle but unmistakable signs of exhaustion that clung to her.

“Alright,” she said, her voice calm but firm, trying to mask the vulnerability she felt. “You can go now. I’ll be fine.”

There was a brief silence before Hawks spoke, his voice laced with that familiar, teasing tone that always irritated her when it came at the wrong time. “Not a chance, Miss Quirkless. I didn’t fly you all the way here just to leave you in some sketchy alley.”

Y/N’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag, her frustration mounting. She didn’t want to deal with him right now. She didn’t want to deal with anyone, to be honest. She just wanted to forget what had happened, forget the confrontation with her brother, forget the pain, and maybe for just a moment, forget everything that had led her to this point.

“I’m serious, Hawks,” she said, turning her head to the side, her voice quieter now. “Just… go. I don’t need a babysitter.”

But Hawks wasn’t one to listen to reason, not when it came to Y/N. He crossed his arms and stepped a little closer, his eyes narrowing slightly, the familiar intensity in his gaze never wavering. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” he said, his tone losing its humor. “I’ve seen people after villain attacks, and this—” He gestured vaguely to the bloodstains on her clothes, the signs of a fight that went deeper than just a mugging. “—doesn’t look like your run-of-the-mill mugging. So why don’t you tell me what really happened?”

Her jaw tightened at the words, and she tried her hardest to avoid looking him in the eye. She hated how perceptive he was, how easily he could see through her tough exterior. The last thing she wanted was to explain what had happened—what her brother had done.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, trying to sound indifferent, though the words felt hollow even as they left her mouth.

Hawks didn’t budge, his sharp eyes still focused on her, and he took another step closer. “It matters if someone’s out there targeting you. Was it even a villain?” His voice softened just a little, but there was an undeniable edge of concern beneath the sarcasm.

Y/N felt her chest tighten. She didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to admit what had happened, but she knew Hawks wasn’t going to let it go. She hated the way he could get under her skin, the way he always pushed her to confront things she wasn’t ready to face. Slowly, she shook her head.

“No,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She hated the vulnerability in her own voice, hated how weak it made her sound.

Hawks’ eyes flickered with a mix of disbelief and concern. “Then who?” he asked, his voice low. “You don’t just end up like this for no reason, Y/N.”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers brushing absentmindedly against her arm, the skin now fully healed. The memory of the pain, of her brother’s furious grip, was still fresh in her mind. Her mind raced with conflicting thoughts. She didn’t want to say it out loud. She didn’t want to admit what had happened, to relive that moment. But she knew Hawks wasn’t going to stop until she told him.

“It was my brother,” she muttered, barely able to hear her own words. The silence that followed her confession was almost suffocating.

Hawks blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Your brother?” he repeated, as though testing the words, unsure whether he had heard her correctly. “What the hell kind of family reunion was that?”

Y/N let out a dry, humorless laugh, her shoulders sagging with exhaustion. “The kind where you don’t talk about it afterward,” she said, her voice laced with bitterness.

Hawks studied her for a moment, his golden eyes searching her face, trying to find answers she wasn’t willing to give. He could see the way she avoided looking at him, how her body language screamed that she was trying to distance herself from the conversation. She wasn’t just physically drained—he could feel the emotional toll it was taking on her, the weight of the situation settling in her bones.

“You’re not staying here,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Y/N snapped her head up, narrowing her eyes at him. “Hawks—”

“Nope,” he interrupted, cutting her off with a raised hand. “Not happening. If your brother—” he said the word with clear skepticism, “—is the one doing this, then you’re definitely not safe here. So, we’re going somewhere else. You can argue all you want, but I’m not leaving you in this alley, and that’s final.”

Y/N groaned, frustration bubbling up inside her. She rubbed her temples, trying to force the headache away. Hawks’ stubbornness was unbearable at times. She had wanted to deal with this on her own, without anyone prying into her life. But no, Hawks had to swoop in and make everything more complicated.

“You don’t get it,” she muttered, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady.

Hawks softened his tone, stepping closer to her again. “Then make me get it,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle for once, though still persistent.

Y/N clenched her fists, the memories of Kai’s rage rushing back, the violent grip on her arm, the raw pain. She didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to face it. But she also knew Hawks wasn’t going to drop it. He cared too much to let her go through this alone.

Instead of answering, she turned her head away, her gaze falling on the dark alley ahead of them. “You’re annoying,” she muttered under her breath.

Hawks chuckled softly, the sound warm and familiar. “Yeah, I get that a lot,” he said, his teasing tone slipping back into place.

For a moment, the two of them stood in silence, the weight of their conversation lingering in the air. Finally, Y/N let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping as she rubbed her temples once more.

“Fine,” she said with a reluctant nod. “Take me wherever you want. Just… don’t make a big deal out of it, okay?”

Hawks smiled, his usual mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “Deal. But don’t think I’m letting this brother thing slide. We’ll circle back to that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath as Hawks crouched down, motioning for her to climb onto his back. “I should’ve just stayed in the alley.”

“Too late now, Miss Quirkless,” Hawks said with a grin, his wings unfurling as he took to the sky. “Hold on tight.”

As they soared into the night sky, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a strange mixture of annoyance and relief. She was still furious with him for pushing so hard, but for all his teasing and insistence, Hawks had a way of making her feel like she wasn’t completely alone. Even when she wanted to be.

#yandere x reader #mha x reader #yandere mha #yandere bnha #bnha x reader #yandere my hero academia

8 notes · View notes

luminouslywriting · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 23 (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: A little bit filler….and I apologize for that! I woke up with some blood clotting and it’s been a bit rough today 😅 next chapter will hopefully make up for that! As always, let me know what you think!

The day before D-Day, Ruth felt like she was running around as a chicken would without a head. It was for more than one reason that consumed her thoughts. D-Day was everything that they had been working for and it represented a real hope that the war might be able to be finished soon. Everyone was hands on deck and working to the best of their ability to make things happen.

Ruth hadn’t slept for more than 45 minutes at a time, taking short naps when she could afford it. But even her dreams were plagued with the other particular issue that she was having and its name was Robert Rosenthal.

How dare he weasel his way into her heart yet again and how dare she go too far and let him touch and kiss her like she had? She was foolish and damned to hell, most certainly for her actions. Robert Rosenthal was someone that she needed to be untouchable. Needed to keep her distance from.

If not for the fact that they were enemies, then certainly for the fact that whatever fake relationship they had going on was going to be complicated by the all too real lust that the two of them felt. But she wasn’t so foolish a woman as to pretend that Robert Rosenthal didn’t make her physically weak in the knees simply because of how he looked and the fact that she trusted him.

Nor was she immune to the fact that she desperately needed someone in a carnal nature—and not just because she was lonely. Ruth needed the comfort that came from being with another person physically. And whether that meant she was sitting atop his face and having a heady pleasure course through her or she was on her knees and showing him straight to the seventh heaven, she didn’t care.

She just knew that she needed something like that and soon—or she might just lose her damn mind.

Speaking of losing one’s mind was the very vision of Harry Crosby, practically a madman at this point. Ruth rushed past the man, eager to get her next set of paperwork to the Colonel. She didn’t have time for the tired ramblings of Crosby, who hadn’t slept in three days and was practically the walking dead. She had far too much on her mind to worry about what was going on with him.

There was Abe and Rosie who she needed to worry about as a whole—because the two of them were going up in the skies on D-Day and that meant she was going to be praying the entire time that they would just come back alright. There was Liesel, who by all intents and purposes, was her legal ward for the time being—and Ruth truthfully knew nothing about raising a child, let alone a teenage girl who was now getting in trouble at school and that had been put on the backburner for the week.

There was the fact that her mother had sent a damn package with so many of her personal effects from home—including her personal diary that she had taken the time to hide (mostly because it contained several secrets and a rather embarrassing Valentine that happened to be the only one she had ever received). It was a rather damning thing, having the very diary that contained her younger self’s thoughts on Robert Rosenthal—hell, he took up half of the damn thing and that was mortifying in and of itself.

The tip of Ruth’s pencil snapped and she just let out a frustrated sound, quickly grabbing for another pencil to finish off the paperwork. Signing her name, Ruth had just moved out of her office when she caught sight of a group of men carrying Harry Crosby towards the Hospital Wing.

She nearly stopped short, confusion flitting across her face. “Is he…did he pass out?” Ruth questioned, eyebrows shooting up in the air.

Jack Kidd just looked equally as annoyed by the actions. “I told him he needed sleep.”

“Oh that dumb man,” Ruth mumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Well—get him to the hospital and let him rest. He’s off the clock now. And no one better wake him up again,” Ruth warned in a short tone.

Kidd gave a nod. “You heard Lieutenant Sharpe. Go on then.” He let out a deep sigh as the others took off with Crosby in tow. For a moment, the two of them just lingered in the hallway. Ruth looked her friend up and down, a frown tugging at the corner of her lips.

“You should get some sleep too.”

“I’m fine.”

“That was an order.”

“I’m pretty sure I outrank you.”

“You really wanna argue with me on this right now, ol’ Jackie boy?” Ruth crossed her arms and gave him a stern look.

Any resistance that Kidd had died in his shoulders and he glanced down. “Not really. I don’t have the energy for that.”

“I know you don’t. So go rest. Please? God knows we need you right now and we don’t need another hospitalized competent person unable to help us.”

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

Bright and early on the morning of June 6th, 1944—before almost anyone else was up, Ruth, Rosie, and Abe all gathered together in the mess hall, sitting quietly with one another and letting Ruth pray over them.

Ruth had practically dragged them all there, but neither one of them could complain this time around. The invasion of Europe was no laughing matter, after all. And they needed all of the help, both human and divine, that they could muster. If that meant Ruth demanding God bring them home safely, then so be it.

After the prayers were said and Ruth had done her best not to cry (she had done her makeup and everything this morning and didn’t need it smearing, thank you very much), she reluctantly came to the realization that she would have to let them go today. And it was at this particular moment that she wondered how Abraham could have possibly offered up Isaac to the Lord.

What humanity and mortality required of her was impossible and far too full of grief to be any type of fair.

She had her time with Abe first, pulling him aside just outside of the mess hall before he would go in there to eat and then be the property of the United States Air Force. Looking him over, Ruth realized that she could scarcely recognize the young man that stood in front of her now. Abe seemed to be all grown—so much of a man. He was still just a child in number, but he had seen and done things that boys had not. His time here had cemented that he was now a man.

Ruth sucked in a breath. Be gentle, be firm, be his friend, be his sister, be his person. But don’t push him away. “Be careful up there alright?”

He just gave her a crooked grin in response. “Ruthie, I’m always careful. And when has my math ever led us astray?”

“Don’t you dare get cocky. Not today,” Ruth’s tone of voice did not suggest begging, but it did hold some plea to him to be true to his word.

Almost immediately, Abe sobered at her tone of voice and gave a nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t ma’am me,” Ruth stated in exasperation. She brought the boy in for a hug, trying to pour every piece of luck and karma and hope and prayer that she could into the hug. Because maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to keep him alive. And maybe, just maybe, he would come back to her and get to have a life.

It felt like a lifetime before she let go of him and then Robert Rosenthal was standing in front of her and it was all just so much—the fact that he was going to be the pilot, the fact that he was going to be going up and could die too—

Any sentimentality that Ruth wanted to have lived, breathed, and then died in her lungs. She had half a mind to tell him that she couldn’t imagine doing any of this without him and that if anything happened to him or Abe, she’d surely transfer to another base and drown her sorrows in work. She had half a mind to beg him to come back to her (and yes, that was right, she said beg). She had half a mind to jump him here and now against the very mess hall building and let him be the one to take the remaining shreds of whatever virginity she had.

But Ruth did none of that.

She stood there, cold as ever, with her arms crossed and breath even. She stood there and she looked him dead in the eyes. “Uh….are you—are you gonna say anything?” Rosie asked, confusion flitting around his face. Ruth was never this silent, never this steely before. It was simply unnerving and he didn’t know what to make of any of it.

“Come back and you might just find out.”

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

D-Day went off without a single hitch and Ruth was almost entirely certain that it was a God-given miracle. How else to explain the fact that there had been no air resistance for the men by the time that they had shown up to the fight—those paratroopers and marines on the beaches had cleared the way for the skies to be taken by the pilots of the Hundredth and other groups.

In fact, the bombs had been dropped and Rosie’s plane had returned without a single mark, scratch, or dent in it. The utter relief that Ruth felt at the sight of that dumb plane—the singular time that it would ever go unmarked on a mission—was irrepressible.

For those few hours that they had been in the skies, Ruth had haunted the local church like she was some sort of weeping woman or banshee from old folk tales. She had paced like a ghost unable to shake the dust from its own death and then made her way to the candles—and she had lit candles for every single member in Rosie’s crew. She had lit candles for her paratrooper friends like Lew and Dick—and she had prayed.

Let them be the righteous hand of God and carry them back on the wings of your love.

And those prayers had been answered—at least for the men at Thorpe Abbotts. Ruth didn’t altogether mind the aching in her spine or the pinching of needles that bundled up down in her lower back. If lingering back pain that acted up in times of stress from her residual injuries with Timothy was the cost of bringing back her brother and Rosie safely, then she’d happily pay the price ten times over.

So neither Rosie or Abe was surprised when Ruth barrelled into them, pulling them both into a fierce hug. Because if nothing else, they had established that the three of them were something. They were a family, if a little unconventional at best. But they were there for one another. And they’d keep on coming back to one another. It was just how it all worked.

The party that filled Thorpe Abbotts was simply extravagant and ever so slightly gauche. The death toll for the men in Thorpe Abbotts may not have gone up, but Ruth was keeping an ear out for reports on the men on the beaches and those who had dropped behind the enemy lines. Their death toll would be a number that she wouldn’t be able to forget—because with everything they did, there was always a cost.

But Ruth lit up a pipe at the end of the night and she sat and watched the skies of Thorpe Abbotts carefully. And when Rosie joined her, she didn’t hesitate in handing him the pipe. And for a moment, just a shining moment—the two of them just sat in the silence and in the waiting of trying to figure out what the hell that they were amidst the hellscape that was the war.

And when the night was over and the party had died down, the two of them parted ways and stayed in the waiting. Because now was not their time. And they both knew it.

#mota fanfic #mota #masters of the air fanfic #mastersoftheair #masters of the air #masters of the air x reader #oc originalfemalecharacters #rosie rosenthal #robert rosenthal x oc #rosie rosenthal x oc #ruth x rosie

16 notes · View notes

talonslockau · 3 months ago

Text

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 43

Chapter 42 || Index || Chapter 44

The journey to Sunningrocks was long, but it gave Fireheart time to think, and to worry. What if Riverclan wasn’t there? The Clan was already close to mutinous without him bringing three enemy kits back to camp. His actions were easily justified by the code, but there were surely those in the Clan that thought they were better off with less Riverclanners.

And what would Riverclan think? Would they believe that the kits had been stolen? Relations were already tense with them, and while things had eased these last moons now that Graystripe wasn’t crossing the border every morning, evening and night, this surely would complicate matters. Ivyskip, their mother, must be out of her mind with worry, afraid that they had drowned in the river. He knew how fiercely a mother cared for her kits - and how she would fight if she thought they were in danger. If she saw them right now, would they get a chance to explain before Riverclan attacked?

Though he tried not to worry about it, instead focusing on taking the steadiest path through the forest, his mind kept looping back around to it. Images flashed through his mind of Leopardflame yowling at him, of Crookedstar nose to nose with Bluestar, of Graystripe and Silverstream-

Thunderclan couldn’t afford a war with Riverclan right now. There were so few warriors, and he wasn’t sure he could trust all of them - least of all himself - in a battle against the other Clan. There was Bluestar to contend with as well, the once great leader barely leaving her nest without his or Yellowfang’s prodding. If they went to war, Thunderclan would lose, he was sure of it, and it would be just one more criticism that the elders would have of his being deputy.

He slowed to a halt as he reached a familiar clearing - one in which, long ago, he’d seen Riverclan cats for the first time. He gently dropped Robinkit, the other two warriors doing the same behind him. He opened his mouth, about to mew instruction to the other warriors, but stopped when a gray striped tail slapped across his mouth. He blinked, staring bewilderedly at Peppermask, but she didn’t say anything, instead gesturing for him to be quiet.

Fireheart perked his ears, suddenly painfully aware of how close they were to the Riverclan border. Had she heard warriors coming? He pricked his ears, expecting to hear cats approaching, but the only thing he could hear was birdsong. He watched, his confusion growing, as she stalked away into the bushes, firmly in their own territory. Had she heard trespassers?

He was about to follow her when he heard a startled squawk, followed by the sound of a dozen wings frantically taking to the air. Peppermask returned with a bright smile, carrying a plump pigeon in her jaws. “I saw them as we approached.” She explained as she dropped it in front of the kits. “I didn’t want you scaring them off. No point in wasting a perfectly good opportunity.”

Though his heart was still racing from the thought of an approaching threat, he had to agree with her reasoning. “That seems sensible.” He admitted, trying to calm himself down. “Hey, have you kits ever-”

He startled as he looked down at the kits, who were tearing into the bird with a ferocious zeal that made him feel a little nervous for his own hide. “Hey, don’t- don’t choke on the feathers, please.” He warned them, though he wasn’t entirely sure they heard him as they continued crunching into the carcass.

He hadn’t noticed before, with too much else on his mind, but he realized now how skinny the three kits were. Between his and Peppermask’s hunting, not to mention Yellowfang’s help, Princess’ kits were pudgy, bordering on fat. It felt unnatural to see these kits, almost skin and bones, now ravaging the prey set in front of them. How long had it been since they ate? Surely they hadn’t starved this badly from a single day of adventure - this was at least a quarter-moon without eating, maybe more.

When he looked at Peppermask, he expected to see surprise on her face, but she was just watching them with sadness. “I could feel Dawnkit’s spine when I picked her up. That’s why I- I couldn’t let them go back, and find out later that they’d starved to death…” She explained softly to him when she saw him watching.

“The river is Riverclan’s main source of food, and it freezes over in leafbare. Most of the prey in the lowlands goes into hibernation, too.” Graystripe mumbled from his other side. “That’s why they get so fat in leaf-fall; they need all the food they can get to survive leafbare. They try to have kits in newleaf, when the fish return, so that they’ll have plenty to eat.”

Fireheart looked on, his heart aching as he watched the kits devour every last scrap of the pigeon. If the kits were this skinny, the part of the Clan that ate first, how was the rest of the Clan alive? What if they’d all perished in the floods, unable to summon the strength to swim-

No, he wouldn’t let himself think such thoughts. “Come on, you three.” He mewed, nudging them with his nose. They moved from the bones reluctantly, glancing back as though hoping they might spot a spare morsel that they had missed. “It’s time to get you back to your mother.”

They moved through what little bracken remained to look down on Sunningrocks. Just like the rest of the land close to the river, it was flooded, the normal stone floor vanished beneath the water. However, just as they’d hoped, some of the normal stone towers that made Sunningrocks so valuable were still a tail-length or more above the water. His heart soared as he saw cats moving around - dozens of them, an entire Clan’s worth.

He turned to the kits. “You three stay here for a moment.” He nodded the same to Peppermask and Graystripe before, with a deep sigh, wading a few tail-lengths out until the water was lapping firmly around his forelegs. “Riverclan!” He called, watching as the entire Clan’s head turned as one at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. “Is Ivyskip among you? We must speak with her.”

He could see some cats already bristling at him, ready to challenge him. He was technically intruding, although he hoped that they would see it was for a good reason, and he’d expected minor aggression at his appearance. He could hear talking, though not well enough to make out words or who was speaking, before several cats dove into the water and swam towards him, leaving the rest of the Clan on the rocks. They didn’t seem to be a battle patrol, at least, which was a good start.

He flicked his tail for them to follow him, then moved back to mostly dry land. “Come here. Let them see you, all of you. We don’t want them to think this is an ambush.” He mewed, the kits and warriors emerging from the bracken to stand beside him.

It was only heartbeats before the Riverclan cats were upon them, and he was grateful to realize he recognized most of them. Crookedstar was leading them, his jaw twisted up in an ugly scowl, while Leopardflame and Mistyskip flanked him. Behind them was a tortoiseshell queen he didn’t recognize - Ivyskip, if he had to guess.

“My kits!” His thoughts were confirmed as the queen raced past him as soon as she could stand, enveloping them all in her still-dripping embrace. “You’re safe! Oh, Starclan, thank Starclan you’re all safe…”

Crookedstar’s green gaze warmed slightly as he watched the family reunite. “And how, might I ask, did Thunderclan come by three of Riverclan’s kits?” The leader asked, his gaze narrowing to glare down at Fireheart. He steadied himself, not wanting to seem afraid and guilty. They had done nothing wrong rescuing these kits; he would not let Thunderclan be blamed.

He opened his mouth to reply. “They stole them from us! They must have!” Leopardflame spat before he could speak, her spotted pelt rising as she advanced on the three young Thunderclanners. “They’ve been nothing but trouble for us all of leafbare! First with the prey-stealing, and then-”

“We didn’t steal them!” Fireheart snapped back before she could finish. “We were out to survey the extent of the flooding near the Owltree when we heard kits calling for help. The branch they were on broke apart in front of us, so we rescued them before they could drown.”

“Really? You expect us to believe that?” The deputy straightened up to her full height with a hiss, though Fireheart suspected that if he tried he would be taller than her. “As if Thunderclan cats would ever get their paws wet!”

“Leopardflame.” Mistyskip mewed, casting a disdainful glance at her deputy as she stepped up beside her uncle. “Look at their bellies. They’re soaked with water, all of them, which could only happen if they were submerged in water, and not just traveling in the rain. They have been swimming, and recently.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Leopardflame spat back, her eyes blazing furiously at the senior warrior that had dared to talk back to her. “If you’re so smart, then explain how they could find our kits near the Owltree, far upstream from camp!”

The silver molly looked unsettled at the deputy’s retort. Fireheart stepped forward to interrupt them before she could hazard a guess. “I think that might be answered by the kits themselves.” He turned to them, shivering and hugging their mother as tightly as possible. “Go on, then.”

The kits stared at him with wide, anxious eyes, and suddenly he felt fear strike his heart. They had to tell the truth, or Riverclan would be furious with them! After all that the three warriors had done for the kits…

Peppermask crouched down, her belly brushing the wet pebbles below. “Hey, you guys don’t want us to get in trouble for saving you, do you? Just tell them what you told us.” She mewed gently to the three.

Tears welled in Aspenkit’s eyes, but he slowly nodded and pulled away from the tortoiseshell queen. “We- we wanted to see the gorge for ourselves. But Dad wouldn’t take us, and- so we snuck out. We’re sorry! We didn’t know-”

“Shh, darling. It’s alright. You’re safe now.” Ivyskip gently hushed her son and pulled him back against her again. “I believe them. Why would these Thunderclanners steal our kits just to bring them back?” She looked up with warm green eyes, bowing her head to each of them. “Thank you, all of you. You risked your lives to save my kits. I will never forget your kindness.”

Fireheart nodded back, even as exhaustion began to creep over him once again. “I’m just glad we were able to bring them back home. And I’m sure they’re glad, too.” He replied, turning back to the other three Riverclanners. “I’m sorry to have troubled you, but I assure you, not a single Thunderclanner is interested in stealing your kits. We already have enough trouble dealing with our own.”

Crookedstar’s whiskers twitched slightly at his words. “Well, in that case, Riverclan is grateful that you rescued them. I know it is not an easy task to swim in these floodwaters; doubly so for a cat not accustomed to swimming at all.” As he spoke, a spark lit in his gaze. “Say, Mistyskip, didn’t you mention something about rescuing a ginger Thunderclanner from the river a few moons ago?”

Fireheart’s ears flattened bitterly at the memory, and he was sure Graystripe was doing the same behind him. “Yes, Uncle. Him and the tom behind him were the very two Silverstream and I rescued.” Her blue eyes met his with a mischievous twinkle. “I’m glad to see that you two have learned how to swim since then.”

He growled wordlessly in response, but she didn’t seem to take heed as she trotted past him to where Ivyskip was still holding her kits tightly. “Let’s get them up on the rocks. Leopardflame, if you would?”

The spotted deputy’s scowl worsened as she moved past the Thunderclan cats, gingerly picking up Robinkit before turning and leaping gracefully into the floodwaters. The three mollies were gone in mere moments with their charges, leaving only the Riverclan leader and the Thunderclan cats standing on the shoreline.

As Crookedstar turned away, presumably to follow them, Fireheart noticed how visible the leader’s hips were - not unlike, he realized, how Tallstar had been when they had led the Windclanners back home. He felt Graystripe and Peppermask tensing up beside him, and he knew they were thinking the same. “Crookedstar, may I speak to you for a moment?” He mewed quickly.

The normally muscular tabby turned back, his eyes wary but not hostile, as he regarded them with suspicion. “You have my attention.” The leader replied with a small courteous dip of his head.

“Let me be honest with you, Crookedstar.” The tabby’s tail tip twitched slightly as Fireheart spoke, but he nonetheless inclined his head slightly in agreement. “On the way here, Peppermask happened to catch a bird. She’s a good hunter; one of our best.” He glanced slightly to see her whiskers twitch as she acknowledged the praise, but he could see the worry etched clearly on her face. “We didn’t get a chance to decide what to do with it when the kits devoured it.”

Crookedstar sighed heavily and sat down, unbothered by the water that lapped around his paws. “I apologize for them. Kits can be impulsive, sometimes, and they must have been hungry from their little adventure. I promise you-”

“This wasn’t a matter of simple hunger. Those kits were starving. They cleaned those bones faster than a cat can lash their tail.” He could see the large tabby’s muscles tense up as he spoke. “You and I both know the warrior code says that kits must be fed first, and I don’t think those kits had eaten in the past quarter-moon. If they haven’t eaten, what about the rest of your Clan?”

The Riverclan leader’s scowl had returned as he glared at the presumptuous young Thunderclanner. “Perhaps you’re still unfamiliar with how the Clans work. Most warriors would consider it a grave offen-”

“I know that pointing out such weaknesses in another Clan is considered the highest of insults. But I also have to think that if those kits had had enough to eat, that they might not have needed our rescuing at all.” Fireheart took a deep breath to steady himself. He knew what he was thinking was essentially breaking the code. He also knew that if he didn’t speak up, he would never forgive himself. “If we hadn’t given them food, I’m not certain they would have lived through another quarter-moon. And now your lands are flooded, and you’ve admitted yourself that flood waters are difficult to navigate. You won’t be able to hunt until the flood subsides, and who knows when that will be?”

He could see Crookedstar’s lip curling as he listened to Fireheart speak. “Is there a point to this?” The other tom growled.

“There is, Crookedstar.” He dipped his head respectfully, though he was sure it didn’t feel like it to the tabby tom. “Now that newleaf has come, prey is returning to the forest. Many in Thunderclan have full bellies. Even though some of our best hunting territory is underwater, we can still spare prey, if it will ensure your Clan’s survival.”

The Thunderclan deputy and Riverclan leader stared at each other, gauging each other’s moods. Fireheart didn’t shy away from the other’s gaze; he meant every word he had said, even if it was tantamount to treason. “You claim that you are familiar with how the Clans work, and yet what you’re suggesting to me is antithetical to the very foundation of the Clans.” Crookedstar’s tone was carefully measured as he regarded the flame-colored deputy. “What will you ask for in return, hmm? Nothing comes without a price, and I will not indebt my Clan to yours when we are-”

“We ask for nothing. It was us, as you’ll recall, that traveled to bring Windclan home. We did not ask them for territory or prey then either. I don’t want Thunderclan to gain territory by exploiting the weakness of the Clans around us; if we are to expand our borders, it will be through battles with honorable warriors, as Starclan intends.” Even as he said it, he could tell Crookedstar was still skeptical. He wasn’t able to hold it against the other tom; he was certain that if Tigerclaw was speaking the same words, that he would absolutely intend to eventually use the favor against Riverclan. “Be honest with me, and with yourself, Crookedstar; if you cannot find prey by tomorrow, how many in your Clan will die of starvation?”

The tabby’s pale green eyes fell to the water he was sitting in, and he knew instantly that Crookedstar was picturing gaunt faces staring at him from the rocks. Had cats already died? “Be that as it may,” Crookedstar admitted with a heavy sigh, “the Clans have always survived independently. Starclan may - there will be those that go to greet them, but that is a warrior’s lot in life. I cannot burden my Clan to change that.”

“Perhaps it is not the duty of a warrior to care what happens to another Clan.” Fireheart answered readily, watching the leader’s proud stature even as his eyes were full of hunger, and his skin clung to his bones. “After all, the code tells us to care for our Clans above all else. But I have watched the code be used to defend driving out other Clans for the sake of one; I have watched the code be used to defend cold-blooded murder. Perhaps the code tells me that I should turn my back on Riverclan now, so that we can take Sunningrocks from the corpse of your Clan once the floodwaters go down. But I believe that being a warrior is about mercy as much as it is about strength, and so I will do what I can to alleviate your suffering, regardless of what the code says.”

They stared each other down for another long moment before Crookedstar’s eyes flicked to the two warriors behind him. “And what of you two? Do you agree with what your deputy says?” The leader asked dryly.

Fireheart didn’t dare look them in the eyes. “The code says that we cannot neglect a kit, no matter their origin.” He heard Peppermask mew behind him. “If we were to leave now to let your kits starve, then I think we would be breaking the code. If hunting for your Clan means that the kits will eat, and live, then it is my duty as a warrior to do so. Fireheart’s offer may be unconventional, but I believe he’s right.”

“Uh, yeah.” Graystripe mewed from his other side. “What my sister said.”

Crookedstar looked unable to believe his ears, his twisted jaw dropping slightly at their words. He looked down at his paws once again, seriously considering everything that had been said. “Perhaps you all have the bold-faced audacity to lie to my face.” He said at last, looking back up into Fireheart’s eyes with a vulnerable honesty he hadn’t had before. “But there is only so much I can do to argue when my Clan is dying. We barely managed to escape the flood when it surged through our camp. Frogleap is still missing because of it. My duty is to protect my Clan, no matter the cost. And whether the cost is Sunningrocks, or the river, or all of our lands; the code says that is a cost I must accept.” He looked away with another heavy sigh. “Very well. If Thunderclan should grant us some of their prey, then I will not - can not - turn it away.”

He wished he could convince the leader that his words were genuine, with no cost attached - but he knew better than to try. “We’ll be in the clearing behind us every day just after dawn. We’ll hunt for you until the floodwaters leave Sunningrocks.” He flicked his tail for the patrol to turn to leave. “Hopefully that day will come quickly.”

“Hopefully.” Crookedstar murmured, turning away from them and swimming back towards the rocks his Clan were huddled on without a further word. Fireheart turned away into the bracken as well, exhaustion from fighting the floodwaters and the task ahead creeping over him.

He had only stepped a few tail-lengths into the forest before Peppermask was whirling on him. “Are you mad?” She hissed - not angrily, he could tell, but from genuine fear. “How are you going to explain this to the rest of the Clan?”

He met her gaze evenly. He was past the point of caring what the Clan thought of him anymore - but he didn’t dare tell her that. “I won’t.” He replied simply, brushing past her to lead them back to camp. “They don’t have to even find out. How long can it be until the floods subside? A half-moon, maybe, or even a quarter-moon? If Graystripe could go moons without being caught having a Riverclan mate, I doubt anyone will even notice.” Even if they did, what would they do? The only cat that could exile him was curled up in her nest and could barely be prodded out. “I’m the deputy, after all. I can arrange the patrols to make sure no one’s ever around to find us. Besides, don’t you two pretend you didn’t want to offer the same thing.”

“There’s a difference between wanting to do something and actually doing it!” Still, he could hear her beginning to relax - his points made sense, after all. “Are you really planning on just the three of us doing this?”

“We’re both good hunters, and we have Graystripe to help as well.” Back when they were apprentices, that would have been a teasing joke, but there was no humor in his voice now. “That’s the size of an average hunting patrol. We could recruit others to help, but I don’t know if there’s anyone I’d trust to agree with what we’re doing and keep it a secret. We may not catch enough to feed their entire Clan, but hopefully it will at least be enough to keep them from starving.”

Peppermask was silent, clearly still trying to rationalize everything in her head. After a moment, he was surprised to hear Graystripe speak up. “I- Thank you, Fireheart. You didn’t have to do that.”

He didn’t look at the large tom behind him, keeping his eyes on the forest ahead. “I didn’t do it for you.” He responded.

“I know, but- still.” Graystripe didn’t have to say anything else - he already knew what the other was thinking. Kits, then queens, were fed first amongst all of the Clan. If the kits had been starving, then that meant that Silverstream had gone without food for just as long, if not longer, than they had. It was possible that if they didn’t help, she would have died.

As much as he told Graystripe it hadn’t been for him, he couldn’t lie and pretend that hadn’t been in his mind when he had first offered to hunt for Riverclan. No matter what he thought of his former friend and his ill-fated romance, some small and sentimental part of him would never let Graystripe’s kits die. And though the task in front of them felt formidable to face down, he wouldn’t let fear stop him from doing the right thing.

At least, he hoped it was the right thing.

#talonslock #warrior cats #the prophecies begin #fanfic #talonslock story #forest of secrets #fireheart #graystripe #peppermask #dawnkit #robinkit #aspenkit #crookedstar #ivyskip #mistyskip #leopardflame

7 notes · View notes

pheita · 4 months ago

Text

Character Profile Tag

I was tagged by @eternalwritingstudent

I will do this for Sojan from Blood Night

Name:

Sojan Kargoret Mahelgris

Nickname:

none

Kind of being:

Lust demon, coming from another dimension and hiding in the dimension of humans. The term lust demon was created by the priest of the Five because the natural magic of these demons cause every non-demon to become horny beyond sanity. This is one of the reasons Sojan is adamant about his magic blockers.

Age:

578 (equals roughly mid-thirties in human years)

Gender:

Male

Appearance:

Sojan is 6'5" with broad shoulders and the kind of muscular you would see with weight lifters. As human, he appears to be Caucasian with dark brown wavy hair and gray-blue eyes since he automatically took the appearance of the people around him when he entered the human dimension. As demon, his skin would be middle blue, and he has horns going from the sides of his forehead in a low curve over his head to the upper back of his head. The eyes get a more turquoise color and his hair a bluish-black.

Occupation:

Monster Hunt for the Hunter's Guild of Duwos

Family members:

Sojan is the third of five. The eldest one is Akejin, followed by their sister Simajin. After Sojan are the twins Rastenit and Ramirin, or short Ras and Ram, and last is Arritit. He has a stained relationship with his father since childhood, because his father Akamratit always had those stupid ideas of the glorious days of the demons that made them outcasts, and ended in Akamratit killing Akejin, the fiances of Sojan and Arritit to get his point across to not stop his plans. That happened almost hundred years ago and since then Sojan, Arritit and their mother Rahnirin fled to the human dimension. Only the twins Ras and Ram are still with their father and no one knowing where Simajin is.

Pets:

As a child, he used to have a winged demon cat called Macak he loved dearly. Today he has his riding wolf Parin, he often calls oversized puppy because of its friendly and cuddly demeanor.

Describe their room:

His room in the guildhouse of Lagawood, which is his chosen home, is quite small with only a bed, a small wardrobe, a small table with two chairs and the view towards the outskirts of the city. You will often find a bag with rose candies or dried fruits at the table.

Way of speaking:

His way of speaking is not overly simple or overly complicated. Sojan likes to be clear and efficient in communication, which is also because it keeps you alive out there during a monster hunt. He has a slight accent from living for over 80 years in the mid-east area of the continent, what means he rumbles his R's and Ch's but the G is so soft it could easily be mistaken as J if you don't listen closely. Thanks to being a demon his speaks slightly melodic, something that carried over from his mother tongue.

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitudes):

You will find him pinch the bridge of his nose a lot when he thinks hard or has to make a different decision. His eyes are always scanning the surrounding when he isn't at the guild house, a habit he learned the hard way. Sojan carries himself with the air of a seasoned fighter who has seen too many fights, tall standing but with this hint of weariness in his face. He is also a physical person who laughs a lot, hugs friends whenever a chance occurs and will always be the one to lay a calming hand on your shoulder.

Hobbies:

He has a passion for cooking and baking, it helps him clear his mind.

Favorite sports:

Sojan doesn't do sport, unless you count being cuddled to death by agiant wolf counts

Abilities/talents/powers:

Technically, Sojan has magic, and strong one on top, but never got the hang of it besides basic stuff because his brain didn't like to understand it. So he blocked it away and never used it the last 90 years. Since he lives in the human dimension as a demon his senses are slightly better, and he is a bit stronger, ranging in the same are as elves with both and often gets away with "having elf heritage" as an excuse. He is good with animals, knows how to fight with a sword and axe but prefers sword, and has this talent to make friends effortless.

Relationships (interaction with others):

Arritit: His younger sister who he protected since she was born since the sisters before her decided to bully her all her life. There are days Sojan wonders how he deserved to have her a sister, especially when she makes him join her on some of her errands again. In the end, he will do everything for her. Lyran: The love interest, the young apparently human bard who is more than he appears to be with a danger kink and who called dibs the moment he saw Sojan. For a big part of the journey, Sojan wasn't sure if Lyran was serious about him or not and kept him at bay, but well, stubborn bards get what they want. Especially this one.

Fears:

His biggest fear is his father. After losing his older brother and his fiancees to him and his crazy idea of a world dominated by demons, Sojan lives in constant fear this might happen again.

Faults:

He can be an eremite when it comes down to personal stuff, which sometimes leads to him needing to be dragged along.

Good points:

Don't go into a fight unprepared. Sojan likes to know what he deals with before he acts, what sometimes appears as laziness.

What they want more than anything else:

To live just a calm, peaceful life without the dooming threat of his father.

I tag @ashen-crest @tabswrites @oh-no-another-idea @indecentpause @bee-barnes-author

#writblr #writing #pheita talks #tag game #blood night

13 notes · View notes

niallerspayno · 2 months ago

Text

We’ll Be Alright - Chapter Nineteen

Masterlist

The concert that night is a blur. The crowd is electric, the energy of thousands of voices filling the stadium, but you can’t focus on that. Not when everything behind the scenes feels so wrong. The music swells and the lights flash, but the tension in the air is suffocating. Niall and Liam are both pushing through it, but there’s a distance between them. A cold space that no amount of applause can fill.

You notice it in the way Niall��s gaze stays ahead, never quite landing on Liam, and in how Liam hangs back during every group moment, leaving a few extra feet between him and Niall. It's like watching two people walking in opposite directions, but neither of them really wanting to walk away.

Soundcheck is an awkward affair. You can feel the weight of the unsaid words pressing down on everyone, but it’s especially hard when you catch Niall’s eyes for just a moment. His usual easy grin is missing, replaced by a quiet intensity you don’t recognize. His shoulders are tense, his jaw tight. It's almost like he's trying to hold everything in, but you can’t shake the feeling that he's just one word away from snapping.

And then there’s Liam. He’s been distant, but there's a sadness there, too. It's in the way his eyes don't meet yours unless he can help it, and the way his usual warmth feels... colder, somehow. You’re not oblivious to the fact that both of them are hurting. You’re the reason for it—and that stings in a way you can’t explain.

As the night unfolds, the strain becomes more obvious. The boys do their best to carry on like everything’s normal, but you can feel it—the invisible weight that’s slowly pushing everyone further apart. Liam and Niall aren’t fighting, but they’re not speaking, either. There’s this thick, charged silence between them that’s louder than any words they could say.

Then, during a break between songs, you find yourself standing alone with Liam in the wings of the stage. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his usual posture of easy confidence replaced by something rigid. His jaw is set, and the tension radiates off of him.

You don’t want to make it worse, but you can’t stand the quiet anymore. Not between you and him. Not between all of you. So, you step toward him carefully, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Liam?” you ask softly.

He glances at you, offering a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Hey,” he says, his voice low. “You good?”

You nod, but your stomach twists. You don’t feel good—not with everything hanging in the air. “How about you?”

Liam shrugs, but it’s not the easy shrug you’re used to. It’s almost defeated, like the weight of the night has crushed his usual optimism. “It’s a tough night,” he says quietly. “But I’ll be fine. We’ll get through it.”

You reach for his hand before you even think about it. He doesn’t pull away, but you can feel the hesitation, the uncertainty. Your fingers brush against his, and for a brief second, the world seems to stop. You feel that familiar spark between you, but it’s marred by everything that’s happened. “I never meant to hurt you, Liam,” you whisper, your voice trembling with guilt. “I really didn’t.”

Liam’s eyes soften, and his thumb brushes over the back of your hand in a small, soothing gesture. But even that feels strained. “I know you didn’t. I just... I thought we were taking things slow. I thought we were on the same page, and then... everything got complicated.” His voice cracks slightly on the last word, and it makes your chest tighten.

“I’m still trying to figure things out, Liam,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you either.”

He looks down at your hands, his thumb still moving over your skin. “I know. I’m not angry with you. I just... I don’t know what to do right now.” His voice is thick with emotion, and the words cut deeper than you expect.

Before you can respond, the sound of footsteps approaches. Niall’s voice breaks through the fragile moment between you two. “Hey, mate. You alright?” The words are polite, but there’s a strained edge to them, a sharpness that wasn’t there before.

Liam doesn’t even look at him immediately. He takes a moment, eyes fixed on the floor before he finally meets Niall’s gaze. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He glances at you quickly, his expression unreadable. “Let’s finish the show, yeah?”

And just like that, the moment is over. The distance between Liam and you widens, and Niall stands there, awkward and uncertain. You feel the weight of everything pressing down on you, and you don’t know how to fix any of it.

The concert ends in a blur of flashing lights and deafening applause. The crowd’s energy is palpable, but it’s nothing compared to the silence you’re left with once you’re backstage. The adrenaline of the show doesn’t last long; instead, the weight of the night’s events fills the air, leaving you gasping for breath.

Liam and Niall are still keeping their distance. They exchange the bare minimum of words, their interactions polite but stiff. It’s like watching two strangers who used to be best friends, but now they can’t even look at each other without feeling the hurt that’s been inflicted.

Louis, ever the optimist, suggests a late dinner. “We need to unwind after this, yeah?” he says, glancing between you, Niall, and Liam. “Let’s just forget about everything for a little bit.”

You all agree, though you know that nothing’s going to change by the end of the night. At the restaurant, you sit across from Niall and Liam, feeling the gulf between them widen with every passing second. The food arrives, but no one is really hungry. Instead, the glasses fill, and the alcohol starts to flow, though it does little to ease the discomfort.

Niall’s eyes flicker to you occasionally, but there’s no hint of the playful glint you’re used to. He seems withdrawn, distant. And Liam? He’s quieter than usual, his brow furrowed in thought, his eyes often flickering to you, but always too quickly. You can feel the unspoken words hanging between all of you.

The silence is unbearable until Louis, with his usual bravado, decides to break it. “Alright, alright,” he says, raising his voice just enough to cut through the tension. “What’s going on with you two?” He points between Niall and Liam. “Is this a stare-down contest, or are we finally going to talk like grown-ups?”

Zayn snorts from the end of the table. “He’s got a point. This is getting ridiculous.”

Niall looks between Liam, you, and the group, his face tight with frustration. “I think... we just need time. To figure it out. All of us.”

Liam nods, though his expression is still guarded. “Yeah, maybe time is what we need.” His gaze flickers briefly to you, but it’s gone in an instant. “I’m not angry at you, Niall. I just need space to process.”

You nod, though it doesn’t feel like enough. Time might heal things, but you’re not sure you can wait long enough for it to fix the mess you’ve all found yourselves in. The night is heavy with unspoken words, the air thick with all the things you can’t say, all the hurt you don’t know how to address.

For now, you’re all just here. Sitting together in silence, drinking away the weight of the night. You wonder if time will really be enough—or if it will just tear everything apart.

...

You make your way toward your room, your footsteps muted against the cool, polished floor. The hallway stretches ahead, empty and silent, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning. But despite the stillness around you, your heartbeat pounds so loudly in your ears that it drowns out everything else, every sound, every thought. Your body is tense, each step heavy with anticipation, and then, like a spark in the darkness, you see him.

Liam is standing just ahead, blocking your path. The moment your eyes meet, the world around you seems to shift. His dark eyes are intense, burning with a fire you’ve never seen before—a fire that sends a shiver down your spine. The air feels thick, charged, like the atmosphere before a storm, heavy with something unspoken but undeniable.

"I can’t sit back and wait anymore," he says, his voice low, yet there’s a rawness in it that makes your heart skip. There’s a desperation there, an edge to the words that you hadn’t anticipated. "I’ve tried to give you space, to be patient, but seeing you with him... It’s killing me."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and your breath catches in your throat. You want to respond, to say something—anything—but your throat feels dry, the words trapped. His eyes are locked on yours, pleading, searching for something in you. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

"Liam..." you manage, your voice shaky, the sound of it almost foreign to you. But he doesn’t give you a chance to finish.

He steps closer, closing the distance between you in a way that makes the space around you feel smaller, suffocating. The heat from his body presses against yours, his presence overwhelming. The air between you thickens, heavy with his proximity, and your pulse quickens. His gaze doesn’t leave yours as his voice drops to a near whisper.

"You don’t understand what it’s like," he continues, the tension in his jaw making his words even sharper. "I’ve held back because I thought it’s what you needed. But what about what I need? What I feel? I can’t keep it inside anymore."

His words strike deep, leaving you frozen in place, like the floor beneath you has disappeared. His pain, his frustration, it all lingers in the air, swirling around you, and it’s all you can do to stay standing, to not fall apart at the weight of it.

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but before you can even process what’s happening, his hands are on you.

One hand gently cups your jaw, his fingers threading through your hair, the warmth of his touch sending a wave of heat through your body. His other hand presses against the small of your back, pulling you in closer, so close that you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You stand there, breathless, as his eyes search yours for just a fraction of a second, like he’s giving you a chance to pull away, to stop it.

You don’t.

And then his lips are on yours, demanding, urgent, a kiss that’s nothing like the softness of your first one. This is fierce, raw, like he’s pouring every ounce of everything he’s been holding back into this single moment. His lips move with a hunger that takes you by surprise, your entire world tilting with the force of it.

You gasp against his mouth, the shock of it making your head spin, and before you can even catch your breath, his kiss deepens, his tongue brushing against yours, sending a shiver racing down your spine. His hands tighten on you, one slipping lower to your waist, fingers pressing in just enough to make your skin tingle with the heat of his touch.

You lose yourself in him, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer as if you could melt into him, as if being this close, this connected, could make everything else fade away. His body is solid and warm against yours, and the heat between you is all-consuming, a fire that threatens to engulf you both. Your heart races, blood rushing in your ears as everything around you becomes a blur.

"Liam," you manage to whisper between kisses, your breath hitching, but he doesn’t stop. His lips leave yours, trailing down to your jaw, to your neck, and you feel the heat of his breath against your skin. His stubble scrapes against your sensitive flesh, and it leaves a trail of fire in its wake. Every touch, every breath, feels like it’s searing you.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, his voice rough against your ear, each word thick with need, but there’s no hesitation in his touch. It’s like he already knows you won’t.

You don’t want him to stop.

Instead, you pull him back to you, your lips crashing against his again, kissing him with everything you have, every ounce of emotion that’s been building between you. Your head spins, your knees weak, but his arms hold you steady, anchoring you to him as though he’s afraid you might slip away. The world around you doesn’t exist anymore—there’s only him, only this moment, and you can’t think, can’t breathe without him.

When you finally break apart, your lips are swollen, your breath ragged. His forehead rests against yours, and for a brief moment, everything is still. You both stand there, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath, the intensity of the kiss still lingering in the air. His hands are still on your waist, pulling you close, his thumbs brushing circles against your skin, and it’s almost too much to handle.

"I’m done holding back," he says, his voice soft, but the conviction in it makes your chest ache. "I know what I want, and it’s you. I’m not going to pretend I don’t feel this anymore."

The words hit you like a wave, crashing over you, and your chest tightens, your heart aching. You want to say something—tell him how torn you are, how much you care about him, how much you’re feeling, but the words won’t come. You open your mouth, but it feels like everything inside you has frozen, like you can’t express what’s really going on in your heart.

"Liam, I..." you start, but he shakes his head gently, his fingers tilting your chin up so that you have no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes are full of something that makes your breath catch, something you can’t quite place, but it’s there—deep and raw.

"You don’t have to say anything," he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "Just... don’t push me away. Don’t shut me out."

You nod, throat tight, unable to find your voice. And as he leans in again, his lips brushing yours in a softer, lingering kiss, you feel the promise in it. A promise of something more, something you’re not sure you’re ready for, but something that feels too real to ignore.

When he pulls back, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze before stepping away. His eyes linger on you for a moment longer, soft but intense, and then he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there in the dimly lit hallway, your heart still racing, your lips tingling from his touch.

"Goodnight," he murmurs over his shoulder, his voice quiet but thick with emotion.

"Goodnight," you whisper back, your voice barely a breath, as you watch him disappear around the corner, leaving you standing there, your mind spinning, your heart in turmoil, and the weight of everything that just happened pressing down on you.

Next chapter

#liam payne fanfiction #liam payne x reader #liam payne x y/n #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan x reader #niall horan x y/n #one direction x reader #one direction x y/n #we'll be alright fanfic #one direction fanfiction

4 notes · View notes

jazlynriddle · 2 months ago

Text

Welcome to your life - Pt 2:

Acting On Your Best Behaviour Ch 11:

Summary:

They'd seen it in their fellow orphans often enough to recognise the pattern and were now forced to admit, despite their hopes to the contrary, that Isidora had likely suffered similar side effects.

No… they'd always known she had. The Keeper had just wanted the power that Ranrok had, enough to convince themselves that they would be able to handle it better than that naive woman.

With the start of the Keeper’s sixth-year in Hogwarts, comes a whole slew of headache-inducing challenges from the most unexpected of places. Between insignificant pests throwing wrenches into their plans and tedious teenage drama, that the Keeper is entirely unprepared for, they wonder if they'll make it to their NEWTs without losing their sanity.

Or worse, Ominis or Sebastian.

Warnings: Sebastian x MC x Ominis! Drug Addiction! Spoilers! Slow-burn corruption! Dark content! Fucked up 1800s orphanages! MC has no love for Anne or Solomon! Dubious happy ending (it's happy for MC, Seb and Ominis at least).

You can also read on AO3! (chapter specific warnings below)

Notes:

Warnings: Non-consensual drug use. Not on Sebastian or Ominis or the Keeper! Don't worry xD

Due to the fact that we don't know anyone’s birthdays, I'll just say that the Underage restriction is lifted on the 1st of January of a kid's 17th year of life.

A random NPC comments in the game that he expected Sebastian to be from a "more posh" town than Feldcroft, which leads me to believe that Seb acts a little more aristocratic either thanks to Ominis' influence or to fit into Slytherin or both. I think it's probably both, plus he likes reading complicated books.

"And… that's one week without magic. Lovely." Sebastian sighed as he set his luggage down beside the couch.

"Well, at least next week, we'll all be considered seventeen and will be able to use magic outside of Hogwarts for the rest of our lives." Ominis chuckled, carrying his luggage over to the table instead.

"I want to drop by the castle first." The Keeper placed their luggage by the bed.

"Already?" Sebastian grinned wryly, not particularly surprised. "Guess I can't blame you for wanting to see how far it's come."

"I'd tell you to rest, but I know how much you've been looking forward to seeing our home." Ominis sighed, shaking his head. "So, just try to get back before it's dark, at least. Remember, you're still recovering."

"Think I'm already recovered, but I'll make it quick. Promise." The Keeper chuffed softly, taking a few brisk strides across the room to place a quick kiss on Ominis cheek, getting a partially resigned smile in return.

"I'll help you unpack a bit first then." Sebastian nodded as he crouched beside his bags.

"Thanks." The Keeper smiled, stooping to give Sebastian a kiss on the cheek as well, as they passed him on their way to the door. "I'll see you guys later."

"Later!" Ominis waved a hand in the air lazily as he dug through his own bags.

The flight to Dìon was cold but uneventful, and the Keeper staved off their impatience to see the grounds in person for the first time in four months, by basking in the freedom of not being under surveillance. Their powerful thestral's wings carried them through the fog bank surrounding the castle grounds and there it was.

Dìon Castle, or at least what it would eventually be. From Sepulchria's warm back, the Keeper could see the tall walls, snaking up along the hill in two layers of solid and intimidating defence. It looked even better than they'd hoped, and they hadn’t even started building the actual castle.

Under the cool winter afternoon light, the frost-covered outer walls glittered along the parapets and over the battlements. The Keeper could imagine those yet empty gatehouses and baileys lined with enchanted armour and statues made to defend their home.

The Keeper felt their heart thrum in excitement. Soon, this dream they’d had would become reality.

As Sepulchria flew over the rampart, the Keeper was pleased to note the thin coat of snow lined along the finished walls. An indication that the Machicolation were working as intended and preventing too much snow from piling along the tops of the parapets.

Guiding Sepulchria into a gentle descent, the Keeper was satisfied to see that the amount of space they'd designated for the landing strip was adequate for a comfortable landing, and they swiftly dismounted as Tynx approached.

"Welcome home, Master." Tynx bowed respectfully. "It is a relief to see you in better health."

"I see that construction of the walls have concluded. Were there any complications?" The Keeper asked absently, still marvelling at how majestic and towering the walls were, especially now that they were on the ground.

Hogwarts was amazing. The first time they'd laid eyes on it, the Keeper had been rendered speechless, but this was so much better, because it was theirs. These walls were theirs, this was going to be their home. If someone had told them two years ago that any of this would happen, they'd have laughed and called that person a lunatic.

It was like something out of a fairytale, to love and be loved, to have a safe place they could call home. Something they'd never even bothered to hope for. The Keeper swallowed thickly, suppressing the unexpected swell of emotion in their chest.

Bloody hell, if mere walls were enough to make them all sentimental, how was it going to feel when the castle was done? The Keeper thought dryly to themselves. They couldn't wait to find out.

"Surprisingly, not as much as I had anticipated. Usually, in this region, winter would have started in late November." Tynx hummed thoughtfully. "I was certain we'd be forced to halt construction of the walls till the end of winter, but we managed to complete them before snowfall began."

The Keeper blinked, their attention returning to Tynx as he spoke. It took them a moment to push aside their emotions and properly process his words.

"Ah yes." The Keeper nodded. "I would say that it's most likely due to the geography of this hill."

Tynx tipped his head to the side curiously and the Keeper gestured towards the mountain behind the castle grounds.

"Past the mountain behind the castle, is the ocean. Which means that, the air coming from that direction is cold and humid.” The Keeper waved their hands to illustrate. “It then moves upward along the mountainside, where turbulence strips the cold water vapour from it, carrying it into the clouds, leaving the warmer air to roll down to us.”

The Keeper raised a finger. "This means that the castle enjoys a warmer temperature than the rest of the Scottish Highlands during freezing winter. Fortunately for us, the dryness of the warm winds aren’t an issue, since the area is kept humid by the lake and neighbouring waterfall."

Tynx nodded in understanding, humming curiously. "Does that mean that the castle will also be warmer in the summer?"

The Keeper shook their head. "Thanks to the cool mountain water from the waterfall, carrying excess heat down to the lake, the temperature will naturally even out as well during the summers, ensuring that the weather here remains temperate all year-round."

"I see that Master chose this location with much foresight." Appreciation flickered in Tynx's eyes. "Thank you, for explaining."

The fact that other elf owners wouldn't have, didn't need to be said, and the Keeper snorted in derision. "Only an idiot would be so insecure as to need their subordinates to remain ignorant."

Tynx coughed in an attempt to hide his amusement while the Keeper shook their head and began walking towards the tent covering the opening leading into the underground.

"You and Tibsy have been living inside, correct?" The Keeper asked as they lifted the flap slightly to enter.

Tynx nodded as he followed. "Yes, we prepared a room for ourselves underground as you instructed and moved our things inside before flattening the lot and beginning work on the walls."

"Good, I'll come by for a more thorough examination of the walls in a day or two with Sebastian and Ominis. And, next week my partners and I will have access to magic again and can help with the excavation." The Keeper spoke as they descended the stairs leading underground.

"Yes, Master." Tynx nodded again, though the Keeper was more occupied with walking down the stairs cautiously, since there were no handrails preventing an inconvenient accident.

The initial excavated area was already nicely walled up, with lanterns placed along the walls for light, and the Keeper could see a neighbouring tunnel where the elves were excavating, as well as a host of shovels lined up against the walls. They then poked their head through an open archway into another room on the walled-up side, to inspect the elves' temporary living quarters.

"Master!" Tibsy greeted with a bright smile as she noticed the Keeper's entrance. "Welcome home!"

The Keeper nodded in acknowledgement, pleased to see that the elves' room looked sufficiently large enough for them to live comfortably, and that they had two decent sized beds, as well as several boxes of supplies near the back.

"I'm glad the two of you seem to be doing well." The Keeper responded approvingly. "I would appreciate it if the two of you could prepare dinner while I make my way back to Feldcroft."

"Of course, Master." Tynx bowed and Tibsy nodded vigorously, before the two elves popped away.

As soon as they were gone, the Keeper took a more careful look around, noting the many blueprints that were hung up on the walls and laid out on the floor. They were pleasantly surprised at how neat the place was, despite the developmental state it was in. They would commend the elves on that later.

The Keeper carefully sidestepped the blueprints to reach the boxes in the back, opening them up to count the amounts of supplies within them. While they weren’t entirely sure how much food elves needed to survive, they estimated that creatures of such small size should be quite healthy with this quantity of consumables spread across a week.

Truthfully, the Keeper wouldn't have been surprised if the elves hadn't been taking proper care of themselves and was relieved to see that that wasn't the case. Having confirmed this, the Keeper turned to leave the underground, the sun was already beginning to set.

They'd have to hurry if they wanted to keep their promise.

As the front door of his house slid shut behind him, Sebastian took a deep breath and began making his way across the path towards a nearby bench where two identical girls were sitting, with an open magazine across their legs. He purposefully allowed his shoes to crunch in the snow as loudly as possible to announce himself and came to a stop a few steps away.

Come on, look up. Sebastian urged internally as the girls continued to peruse the magazine together indifferently. Damn it, are they deaf? They’re supposed to ask ‘can I help you’ or something. Do I really have to start talking first? Ugh.

Great, now he had to think of a way to start the conversation. How did the Keeper approach him again?

Ah, right, with a stare. Sebastian abruptly remembered the way his partner had simply hovered a few steps away from him in the Slytherin Common Rooms, gazing at him curiously until he asked if he could help them and then they just nodded silently! Must have been difficult for the Keeper honestly, having to adjust to how normal kids behave after growing up in the Muggle world.

That had been a close one, Sebastian had never been one for socialisation and had almost shooed the Keeper away until he’d recognised them. They'd been such an enigma that his curiosity had overpowered his preference for keeping to himself, and even his dedication to seeking out a cure for Anne.

Conversation with them had come easier for Sebastian than it did with most people too, the Keeper had been polite and evasive, but also quick on the uptake, in a way he'd appreciated.

Sebastian didn't much like awkward atmospheres, so he made pleasantries as much as necessary to keep things amicable and to keep his reputation up for appearances sake. People tended to be more forthcoming with information when having a pleasant conversation, but it was always tedious when he had to discuss uninteresting subject matter, especially in order to fit in with the Slytherin house, which consisted mostly of aristocrats.

The only person who'd ever managed to hold long conversations with him had been Ominis, though he didn't often entertain Sebastian's speculation on subjects that he was uncomfortable with.

The Keeper's quick and open mind had been a joy and a balm when he'd felt abandoned by Ominis. When everyone, even his best friend, had given up on trying to save Anne and given up believing that Sebastian could. It had been the first time he’d looked forward to every interaction with someone so much. Though, it was probably thanks to spending so much time engaging with Ominis and the Keeper alone, that his social skills had gotten rusty.

The only time the Keeper’s actions had ever really given him pause was when they’d cast the Imperius curse on Ominis. Though he now understood that it had been as much for Ominis’ benefit as it had been for Sebastian’s, at the time it had turned his stomach to watch his best friend’s pale eyes empty of life.

He shook his wandering thoughts off. Well, with the Keeper out, that leaves Ominis. He’s good at talking. Hmm… he’d probably start with something he knows…

"Hey, er Nadia and Amina, right?" Sebastian greeted with a smile, trying to push aside his discomfort. Wait, those were their names, right-

"Huh? Oh, yeah, hello Sebastian." The twin on the left answered with some surprise, looking up lazily from the magazine, which appeared to be an edition from Witches Weekly, while her sister just eyed him with a bored expression before turning a page absently. "Need something?"

"Nothing much, just thought the two of you seemed a little cold, something keeping you ladies out of the house?" Sebastian shrugged, waiting as the two girls exchanged a glance.

Merlin's beard, this was awkward as all bloody hell.

"Mum decided to turn the whole house upside-down looking for something or another." The left twin finally began, followed by the right twin. "Kicked us out before we could grab our coats."

The two girls sighed in unison, their weighted breaths coming out in puffs of mist.

Sebastian coughed to cover a laugh. Well, at least that made his job easier. Honestly, Ominis would have been more suited to this, even the Keeper’s business-like approach was better for striking up conversations with strangers. Pity it was his house, so it was more appropriate for Sebastian to hand out invites.

"Sounds rough, want to pop by for some tea then?" Sebastian asked, struggling to conceal his scowl at the bland and disinterested stares the girls threw at him. He quickly followed up with. "Your mother, Mrs. Ndiaye, has been kind to me, just looking to return the favour."

The twins exchanged another long look, and Sebastian supressed an irritated sigh. Thank Merlin he and Anne hadn’t been the type of twins that couldn’t think on their own, though he had to admit that part of his irritation was because he envied these girls for still having the bond that he’d lost.

A moment later, one of them shrugged and the girls nodded together. "Sure, why not."

Sebastian sighed internally in relief, well that takes care of that. Eagerly spinning on his heels, he led the way back to his cottage and opened the door for the girls.

"Please, make yourselves at home." Sebastian waved them in politely. Hopefully they wouldn't take him literally.

"Oh, hello, and who might we have here?" Ominis asked airily from the table where he and the Keeper sat with three cups of steaming tea already on the table.

"Amina Ndiaye." The twin on the left nodded politely while the twin on the right gave a half-hearted wave. "Nadia Ndiaye."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance." Ominis replied with a gentle smile.

"You two look cold, come. I can't say if our tea will be to your taste, but at least it's hot." The Keeper smiled disarmingly as they stood to fetch two cups and set them on the table before filling them with tea from the pot.

"Thanks." The two girls spoke in unison as they took the offered seats and cups of tea politely.

"These ladies apparently were temporarily evicted from their residence, and I took the liberty of inviting them to tea." Sebastian explained as he sat down beside the Keeper, before taking a sip from his own cup.

"I imagine it's difficult to live with fickle parents during the winter." The Keeper gave the girls a wry sympathetic smile.

"You're telling me, I swear that woman is mental over those stupid earrings." The twin on the left sighed irritably. "They're not even that pretty or expensive."

The Keeper's eyebrows shot up. "Earrings? My goodness Amina, I'd have thought only something worth a hundred galleons would be worth tossing one's child onto the streets."

"If they were worth that much, I'd have sold them by now." The other twin snorted before taking a few sips of her tea with a sigh. "Imagine what we could buy with all that money."

"Do your parents not give the two of you much allowance?" Ominis asked innocently and Amina snorted, lifting her cup to her lips to hide her expression, drinking her tea instead.

"That's putting it mildly." Nadia grimaced as she set down her empty teacup, a mildly vacant expression beginning to settle over her face. "Dad's great but he doesn't even make enough to put us through Hogwarts."

"The two of you didn't graduate from Hogwarts?" The Keeper frowned, looking genuinely concerned and even Sebastian wondered how real that expression was.

"We had to drop out in the middle of fifth-year to help our parents out. They couldn't afford our school fee anymore." Amina sighed, her eyes glazing over. "Was so embarrassing."

"I see, sounds awful." The Keeper nodded sympathetically. "How did the two of you meet Macnair and Selwyn?"

"We were in the same class with them." Nadia answered, her voice slightly distant. "They helped us out when half of dad’s beasts died during a really bad winter, lent him the money he needed to buy more animals to keep the business going till he could pay them back."

"Is that so… hm, how do the two of you feel about them? Do you like them?" The Keeper asked with some amusement.

"Not really, we're not exactly top in class, but those two buffoons make us look like honour students." Nadia snorted. "They've been bugging us to go out with them since we were in third-year."

"Yeah, wasn't very nice having to thank those simpletons and agree to go out with them after they helped our dad out." Amina agreed drowsily. "They can't even tell us apart."

"But they helped us out, so it's hard to say no, and it's nice when they buy us expensive stuff." Nadia nodded with a heavy sigh, this was clearly something that had been weighing down on her for a while. "Feels nice sometimes, having two rich idiots after us, living out here without any future."

"Yeah… without NEWTs or OWLs, we can't go anywhere. I do love tending beasts with dad, but I’m not sure I want to live like this forever, so I don’t really know if I want to break up or not, you know?" Amina looked just about ready to cry and Sebastian felt mildly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.

When did this go from testing Veritaserum, to a therapy session for a pair of gold-diggers?

"Do you two think that the boys might break up with either of you?" The Keeper asked, glancing towards the timepiece on the cabinet counter. They probably had under five minutes or so left.

Nadia glanced at Amina, her eyes still glazed over as she returned her focus to the Keeper, her face flushing slightly. "Well, we actually were thinking that the two of them might be losing interest in us…"

Amina's cheeks reddened as she sniffed, her eyes focusing on the Keeper as well. "Y-yeah, they've been doing nothing but talk about you and follow you around…"

The Keeper's eyes widened and Ominis promptly choked on his tea, while Sebastian's breath wheezed sharply through his windpipe as he fought to control his laughter.

"That's- uh-" The Keeper found themselves completely speechless for the first time in years. "W-wha- why would you think such a thing?"

Amina's eyes drifted away shyly. "Well, you do look… really… nice…"

Nadia nodded reluctantly. "Even though you're- you know… enough to well, maybe get them- I mean, they're not very bright…"

The Keeper stared incredulously at her while Ominis sniggered. "Well, she's not wrong there, it's a wonder those boys realised that they liked Amina and Nadia in the first place."

The twins nodded in agreement, both having trouble looking the Keeper in the eye while they struggled to find words.

Seeing that the Keeper’s brain seemed to have stopped working, Sebastian cleared his throat and stood. "And on that cheery note, perhaps it might be a good time to see if your mother has found her earrings?"

"Yes, that might be prudent, teatime is almost over besides." Ominis agreed sagely and the twins immediately nodded.

"Y-yes, it was very nice to speak with the three of you." Amina nodded sheepishly as she stood as well, her eyes starting to clear.

"The tea was very, erm good." Nadia looked a little bewildered as she got to her feet unsteadily. "Sorry for just, well, unloading all of that…"

"Ah, ahem, yes, don't worry about it, I'm told I'm easy to talk to, Nadia." The Keeper smiled enigmatically, and the twins seemed to relax slightly in response. "It was lovely speaking with the two of you and I wish you all the best."

"Thanks for inviting us to tea." The twins replied together, smiling bashfully as Sebastian opened the door for them to leave.

"Good day to the two of you then." Sebastian tipped his head politely as they walked past him.

Just as the twins stepped out through the door however, two all too familiar and unpleasant faces showed themselves just a little ways down the road.

Sebastian's eyes widened in recognition, before an even wider smirk spread across his face as he leaned against the doorframe, enjoying the brief flash of horror on the bullies' faces before they instantly warped into anger.

The Keeper sighed as the girls left the room, rubbing their forehead tiredly. Well, the three drops of truth potion they'd dripped into the twins' teacups beforehand had worked.

The rest had been a bit more than they'd bargained for, it wasn’t like they were unfamiliar with being an object of desire for their appearances, but the Keeper was extremely certain that that wasn't the case here. What an absurd conclusion to come to.

"Oh my, that’s unexpected." Ominis chuckled beside the Keeper, and they hummed curiously. He tapped a finger to his ear. "Listen."

The Keeper turned their gaze towards the doorway where Sebastian was still standing, his pose exuding confidence and victory, his body language almost taunting. The sound of raised voices drifted on the wind to the Keeper's ears and the smirk that soon stretched across their face mirrored Sebastian’s.

"...in there with…" That sounded like Macnair.

"...nice people!" That sounded like Amina’s lighter tones.

"If… really… visiting us, why… over here!?" And that was Nadia.

"...not like that!" Selwyn, definitely.

"Argh!" And that was both of the twins.

The Keeper snorted in amusement, lifting their own cup of untainted tea, and taking a deeply satisfied drink from it while they leaned back comfortably in the plush single-seater couch. That couldn't have gone any better.

The shouting carried on for several more minutes, and the Keeper could hear Sebastian feigning innocent nonchalance when the bullies turned on him. A few moments later, the sound of heavy steps crunching across snow began and the voices faded.

Until finally there was silence and Sebastian took a step back into the house.

"Ah, now that was a great show." Sebastian sighed contentedly as he closed the door behind him. "After that thrashing, I doubt those idiots will be welcome here this holiday. Got the Quaffle and the Snitch in one!"

The Keeper snorted, their eyes following Sebastian as he returned to the table. "An unexpected boon."

"Couldn't have timed that better." Ominis agreed with a chuckle. "Though, I almost feel bad for Selwyn and Macnair."

"Imagine flunking your NEWTs and repeating seventh-year for two girls who don't even love you." Sebastian sniggered as he settled back in his seat.

"Sad existences indeed." The Keeper drawled.

For a few moments, Sebastian gazed at his half-filled teacup contemplatively. "Hey, do you- um, that is…"

The Keeper hummed curiously as Sebastian stammered uncharacteristically. Ominis smiled in understanding.

"Do- would you like me to- well, to drink some?" Sebastian finally got out.

"What, tea?" The Keeper asked in confusion.

"Not- well, yes, but I mean tea and Veritaserum." Sebastian coughed and looked the Keeper dead in the eyes. "I know you have a hard time trusting, so…"

"I would be willing to as well." Ominis nodded.

There was a brief moment of silence, before the Keeper snorted. "And waste two doses of Veritaserum? Pass, it's unnecessary."

At their unspoken declaration of trust, Sebastian's face lit up with a brilliant smile and Ominis blinked several times, his eyes suspiciously glossy. While the Keeper finished their tea, trying to remain outwardly unaffected by the boys' joy.

I mean, Ominis knows Occlumency and as such, could easily resist Veritaserum. There is simply no benefit to be had from accepting that offer. Besides, the Keeper shrugged internally, they were in far too deep.

At this point, if the Keeper needed truth serum to trust their lovers, they might as well kill the two boys right now.

Notes:

Ominis: Try to get back before it’s dark. Sebastian: How would you know it’s da- ack! Keeper: Of course, Ominis. Sebastian lying on the floor KOed. — I don't know what you guys will think of it, but my partner thought the last line was really sweet and I thought Sebastian offering to take truth potion was very sweet. Like, to Sebastian, he is offering to take Veritaserum as a show of trust, and to the Keeper, if he offers then it means that they have nothing to gain by taking the offer.

And that whole "Ominis can resist it" is just an excuse to themselves, like justification for them trusting the boys instead of accepting the offer, which is tempting because they normally wouldn't pass up such an opportunity.

Sort of, "I'm not being naïve, there's just nothing to gain", and then they couldn't even come up with a reasoning for not taking Sebastian up on the offer and just side-stepped the issue with a mental redirect that sounds more in line with how they view themselves.

Like, trying to shift their mental tone back to their usual thought patterns because sweet and trusting feels so weird to them xD And the Keeper definitely didn't go to Dìon just to check up on Tibsy and Tynx because they were worried about the elves. Absolutely not. Unfathomable.

Also, I found a video collection on YouTube of every single one of Sebastian's and Ominis' voice lines datamined and have been going through them, and I feel like you can really see how not-okay Sebastian was with the Imperio thing the whole "So you wouldn't learn Imperio earlier, but now you'll learn it to use on my best friend?" and "Imperio? No, that's insanity."

There's a bunch of unused dialogue in it too that I'm totally gonna use to add in-character-ness for this fic xD Can you believe there are lines like "Hold on, I shan't let death come for you!" and "Damn it, stay with me! Don't give up!".

Duuuuude, we could have had Sebastian react to us dying!? How could they take that away from us!? ToT

If anyone is interested, these have been pretty helpful with keeping the tone of the boys as in-character as I can xD https://youtu.be/yxYM1_T9lG8?si=B77Rimp2ReHgCpSS https://youtu.be/wB9yNFBUcyc?si=VaHzBzE7R4XGbDsa

Also, apparently one of the recent patches fucked up Hogwarts Legacy so companions only say one bloody line with the Companion mod. I swear, how does Avalanche keep breaking the game with every patch? First they permanently break Rackham's Trial, and now the NPCs. The greatest thing this game succeeded in, making these characters feel alive when exploring with them, and they ruined it.

I hope this goes without saying, but I do not condone the Keeper and Sebastian's violence and apathy towards the woman and her suffering. They are simply a product of their circumstances and the character I'm following with this story.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #gender neutral mc #mc x sebastian sallow #mc x ominis gaunt #sebastian x ominis #sebastian x ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #fanfic #jazlr welcome to your life #jazlr #lgbtqia #nonbinary

2 notes · View notes

writing-on-the-wahl · 2 years ago

Text

Dai Discovers Part 1: Happy Dai

A/N: Hi hi friends! Just a couple important things to know going in: First, this series is about Dai, a half mage/half Dragon who’s been hibernating for a LONG time and has just woken up in the modern world.😇 Second, the wolves and mages in the region are on the brink of war.😈

(For more on my version of Dragons, see this world building post)

Vincent:

I frowned as I crossed out an entire paragraph of text from the document I’d been editing for hours, wishing the Elders hadn’t felt the need to insert their opinions into my negotiations with the mages.

Now not only were they insisting we uphold the ancient tradition that a treaty was only credible if accompanied by a marriage between the two sides, they wanted to include all of the wolves’ ancient marriage traditions as well. I’d agree to marry under the light of the full moon, but there was no way I would be wearing a four foot tall headpiece.

I just wanted our people to stop fighting each other. Why did everyone have to make it so complicated?

I glanced longingly at the slit of night sky visible through the crack in the heavy hotel curtains, but there was no time for even a quick jaunt in the moonlight.

Tomorrow morning the leaders of all the mages and wolves in the region would gather for the official opening of the peace summit, the meeting where I would see for the first time the mage who’d agreed to marry me to seal the treaty between our people.

My future wife had arrived at the hotel mere hours ago. Simon and Tori had seen her enter with her brother, Lord Jasper, but she’d been bundled in so many hooded layers the only description they’d been able to give was “average height and reeked of gold.”

Sighing, I turned back to the long list of potential stipulations for the treaty. The next one was a heavy paragraph outlining how the mages must provide a volunteer to live with and perform spells at our bidding. I rolled my eyes and reached for my pen. The mages made their livelihood by providing their magical services for a fee, why would any of them ever agree to offer them for free?

I was crossing out the ridiculous stipulation when the door to the hotel room beeped open.

I stayed bent over the thick document, making a note in the margins. “What is it, Daman?”

“We think she ran, sir.”

My head shot up. “How do you know?”

The quiet blond shifted uncomfortably. “Well, sir, we’ve been keeping an eye on their hallway like you ordered and, well, the shower is still on.”

I raised a brow. “And?’

“It’s just well, we heard it turn on at seven.”

I checked my watch.

9:17

I ran a hand through my hair. “You think she climbed out the bathroom window, 13 stories up?”

Daman shrugged. “They did say she was half Dragon.” That didn’t mean she had wings.

Did she truly consider a 13 story drop less terrifying than me? Was it this marriage of alliance or the treaty itself that she was more opposed to? I closed my eyes at the thought of this treaty failing, and was assaulted by the vivid memory of acrid smoke and ash-filled air. The charred remnants of Aiza’s house crumbling around me.

I refused to let one mage’s trepidation destroy everything I’d been working for. I would not let my people fall to this senseless violence. I was halfway to the elevator before I made the conscious decision to move. Daman trailed behind me.

“And the other mages?” I pressed. Surely they hadn’t all fled.

“None of the other mages were brave enough to book rooms in the same hotel as us,” Daman reminded me. “They’re all across the street. So we didn’t have to worry about being caught spying.” Daman added, and I recalled that the mage lord had been surprisingly unconcerned about staying alone a mere elevator ride away from a company of wolves.

Samuel met us as the elevator opened on the 13th floor, the scowl on his face carrying into his gruff words. “It’s still running.”

I led the way to room 1307. The doors were placed farther apart on this floor—luxury suites. We passed 1310, and even with the thick walls, it was easy for my sharpened sense of hearing to pick up the dialogue of the movie playing in the room. In 1309 a mother hushed a fussing baby, the sound rising over the low snores of a second child.

The front desk had offered to upgrade my party to this VIP floor at no charge, but I was content with our double set of rooms on the second floor. I liked knowing I could jump off the balcony if I needed a quick exit.

Slowing to a stop outside another identical polished dark wood door, I cocked my head to the side and listened.

But no voices came from 1307.

Just the constant white noise of the running shower, and the faintest traces of background music. Like a TV left on at its lowest volume.

My fist connected with the door a little too loudly, my tapping foot continuing the impatient beat as I waited for the door to swing open. A long moment passed.

I knocked again, louder.

No response.

It was strange. Worrying. Lord Jasper should have been in the room as well. He’d been less than thrilled to offer up his sister as a sacrificial lamb, and tension coiled within me at the thought of him secreting her away.

“No one left the room?” I confirmed as I pounded my fist against the door once more.

Daman shook his head. “We’ve had eyes on it all night.”

It had been easy with no other mages around to catch us spying. I’d been secretly pleased when I learned they’d be staying somewhere else, though in truth, Lord Jasper had looked nearly happy when the other mages had announced their intention to stay in the sister hotel across the road. His reaction baffled me at the time, because it hinted at either a misplaced willingness to trust his enemies or an over exaggerated confidence in his power. Neither of which matched my initial impression of the leader of the mages.

In our interactions thus far, the mage lord had appeared to be level-headed and optimistic. Which hinted at ulterior reasons for wanting to be separate from the others.

At the moment, I didn't much care what his motives were, I just wanted him to answer the door.

They were both gone? If so, there would definitely be no peace treaty.

What if he’d planned to sneak his sister out? Perhaps that was why he’d chosen to stay in this hotel. It could have been his plan all along.

Hot anger flared in my chest and I rammed my shoulder into the door. Wood splintered and metal bent as the door flew open at the force of the blow. Across the room, Lord Jasper bolted to his feet, pulling his large headphones down around his neck. The peaceful--yet loud--instrumentals of the Planet Earth theme song filled the room in sharp contrast to the tension hanging in the air.

A quick touch to the headphones and the music cut off abruptly.

The typically cheerful mage eyed me, and I wondered what sort of picture I made-- standing uninvited in his hotel room, my two best warriors hovering in the cracked door frame behind me.

“Vincent.” His eyes flitted to the bathroom door, opposite his position in front of the couch. His fingers twitched but his voice was steady as he ignored our violent entry. “Our meeting is set for nine in the morning.”

It was a gracious statement, a way to let me back down without losing face. There was a small noise from the bathroom, and the shower cut off.

“Jasper?” The warm, gentle voice resonated through the door.

The mage’s eyes bobbed between the door and the imposing wolves. “Yes?”

“I heard voices. Do we have visitors?” The words were tinted with the timbre of a language too old for names.

“I-No. They were just leaving?” He shot a questioning glance my way.

I remained where I stood, confused but pleasantly surprised at the excitement in her words. Up until this moment, my future wife had been an impersonal figurehead to stand at my side and ensure peace between our people. I hadn’t allowed myself the luxury of hoping for anything more than that. Now I lingered in the calm left behind the warm voice, strangely impatient to meet its owner.

Though if any of the elders were here they’d be yapping about breaches in tradition and not seeing my betrothed until the official introductions.

Jasper’s shoulders stiffened and he kept his eyes on me as he reluctantly called to his sister, “Would you like to greet them?”

“Yes!”

The enthusiastic answer made Jasper sigh.

“One minute! Don’t let them leave!!”

I had been so distracted by the rich timbre and heavy accent of the girl behind the door I’d forgotten the reason for my impulsive entry.

She was obviously still here. I should have taken the exit Jasper offered. But it was too late to back down, and a part of me was glad of the opportunity to meet she-of-the-beautiful-voice.

I eyed the broken doorway regretfully. Not the first impression I’d wanted to make.

Jasper let out another sigh. “Allow me.”

I caught his careful wording as clattering sounded from behind the bathroom door, reminding me she could hear just as much as us.

I dipped my head in gratitude and stepped to the side as the mage carefully crossed through the kitchen and approached the doorway. His hands flew through the air, blue light illuminating his fingers in a soft glow as he made the intricate mage symbols and then ran his finger along the cracked door and splintered frame. A moment later, Jasper closed the perfect door.

He’d barely done so when the bathroom door whipped open and a cloud of steam filled the room. Daman let out a cough and Samuel fanned the air in front of his face, trying to clear his field of vision.

“Ohhh sorry, sorry!” The steam vanished just as quickly as it had come, leaving behind the Lady Daiiryn Rensalus, my future wife.

If someone had asked me to pick Lord Jasper’s Dragon half-sister out of a hundred people, she would have been my last guess.

It wasn’t just that she looked nothing like her brother. While he was golden haired and tan, her hair was several shades lighter; her skin several shades darker.

Jasper the Mage Lord looked a dozen times more like a fierce Dragon of legend. His features were sharp and eyes cunning. Her features were soft, eyes wide and bright, hair a mass of damp waves that messily framed her round face.

Her hands had fallen back to her sides after completing whatever spell she’d cast to dissipate the steam, and I was briefly distracted by the too-long sleeves of the oversized pink pajama shirt completely enveloping her fingers, along with the matching bottoms that were rolled up and bunched around her ankles. They looked like the type of soft but cheap material you’d find in a superstore, though I couldn’t imagine how Lord Jasper had managed to get her size that utterly wrong.

She looked about as dangerous as a fluffy white kitten, but I had no doubt her claws would be just as sharp.

“Hello!” Her voice was rich, and her face filled with genuine delight. I’d just broken into their hotel room under the assumption she’d run away from our arranged marriage in terror, and she was looking at me like I’d just bought her a puppy.

Lord Jasper crossed quickly to her side. “Gentleman, allow me to introduce my sister, Lady Daiiryn Ren--”

Her quick elbow to the side had Lord Jasper doubled over, clutching his ribs. “Dai!” She stepped forward, roughly shoving her hair out of her face before extending her hand to me. “I’m Dai.”

I stared at her hand, then glanced back at Lord Jasper, who had recovered enough to straighten. When he’d been reluctant to involve his sister, I’d assumed she was a timid, fragile thing, and that, perhaps, he was ashamed of her.

“I thought you said people now shake hands rather than bowing…” She’d followed my gaze to her brother, and she was glaring at him with as much force as a kitten gazing at a laser beam that was just out of reach.

“They do?” Lord Jasper’s breaths were still coming in pained wheezes, and I made a mental note to avoid the Lady Kitten’s deadly elbows. Lord Jasper seemed torn between glaring at his sister for the elbow and staring at me like I was an imbecile for not shaking her hand.

I jumped forward, catching Lady Daiiryn’s still outstretched hand in mine. “Forgive me, my lady, I was too distracted by your beauty to obey proper social customs.”

WHAT. IN THE WORLD. DID I. JUST SAY.

Then to make matters worse, I brought her fingers to my lips and kissed them.

All the dignity and pride I carried as leader of the largest wolf territory on the continent vanished faster than the steam from the shower, and I was struck with the desire to find a nice dark hole to go die in.

Behind me, Daman smothered a cough, and the lady in question’s eyebrows rose until they disappeared into her hair. She slowly withdrew her hand from mine. Her hands both rose to cover her mouth.

“Oh that was nearly quite perfect!” She whirled to face Lord Jasper. “Jaz, did you teach him that?”

Jaz shot me a look before smiling at his sister. “No. I imagine he simply wanted to make you feel more at home.”

“It was quite like something Lord Midan once said to me, do you recall? At the ba--” She trailed off, turning back to me. I wondered if all the spinning was making her dizzy.

“Forgive me, I didn’t give you a chance to introduce yourselves!”

A deep feeling of dread welled up at the possibility her friendliness was only because she did not know who I was.

But then she leaned to the side and offered the wolves behind me a tiny wave. “If you’re Lord Vincent’s men, I should know you.” Her bright smile turned on me. Lord Vincent, would you be so kind as to introduce me to your companions?”

I stared at her for a moment as relief washed away the panicked adrenaline, too grateful she knew who I was to explain that I wasn’t really a ‘lord’ of anything.

Lady Daiiryn blinked expectantly up at me, and I jolted out of my thoughts enough to answer her question. “Yes. My companions.” I cleared my throat and gestured to my two best fighters. “This is Samuel and Daman.”

I froze in place as the Lady Kitten stepped around me, her arm brushing mine in the narrow entry as she warmly shook hands with my bewildered men. “Lord Daman, Lord Samuel, what a pleasure to meet you.”

From a tactical standpoint, the move was a dangerous one. Placing herself in the middle of potential enemies while cutting herself off from her brother. Yet the cheerful Dragon didn’t seem to notice. Her brother, however, stood stiffly, hands flexed at his sides, as though preparing to cast a spell.

The tension in the room ratcheted up a thousand degrees as the small Dragon placed herself in the midst of the wolves. I stepped sideways, turning so I had a clear view of both siblings.

The sister froze, her hand still clasped in Daman’s, finally sensing the building tension in the room.

“Ohsa.” The word came out a voiceless breath on a sigh, the verbal equivalent of a heavy eye roll. Without turning from Daman, whose hand she released after giving it a little pat, Lady Daiiryn--Dai-- continued, “Jasper, brother dear, If they came here to kill us, they would have tried already.”

Samuel raised a hand to cover his snort of surprise while Lord Jasper meaningfully eyed the newly fixed door frame. “Just being cautious, sister dear.”

Dai finally turned around, a tiny smirk on her pink lips. “I believe the word you're looking for is ‘overprotective.’”

Lord Jasper shook his head. “It is well within my rights, little sister.”

She snorted, though her eyes danced with amusement. “Perhaps I should be the one being cautious then, little brother.”

“I’m at least three hands taller than you.”

“And I’m at least three years older than you.”

Daman, Samuel, and I watched the exchange, our heads bobbing back and forth like spectators at a tennis match.

“Well, they will just have to forgive me for being overprotective of my only remaining family member.” Jasper met my gaze as he said it.

Dai shook her head and shifted so she faced me, though it was her brother she addressed. “If you’re done with the not-subtle threats, perhaps we can get to why my betrothed is here tonight instead of in the morning?”

Ah.

Jasper, Samuel and Daman all scrambled to speak at once.

“He mixed up the time?”

“--was too excited to meet you?”

“--needed to borrow some milk?”

Every head in the room turned to look at Daman as he trailed off.

Somehow his excuse made Jasper and Samuel’s seem absurd as well.

One pale eyebrow rose, though the pink lips beneath it were quirked up in poorly concealed amusement. “And does one typically break down the door to borrow milk?”

Of course I hadn't been lucky enough to have the shower block out the sound of our crashing entrance to her Dragon’s hearing.

“I thought you’d run away.”

The admission spilled from my mouth and I jammed my lips shut. I hadn’t meant to say it that bluntly.

“Why?” She looked bewildered. But not, to my relief, offended.

“The shower was on.”

“Yes?” Her brows drew together, an adorable pucker between them.

“For two hours.” Samuel cut in.

Her eyes lightened. “I know! And the water was hot the whole time!” Her oversized sleeves slipped down to her elbows as she held up wrinkled fingers for display. “They look like prunes!”

I looked up from her in time to see Daman and Samuel exchange a glance behind her back.

“It’s just--” I made my voice gentle, suddenly afraid to hurt this enthusiastic ball of energy. “People usually don’t shower for hours at a time.”

“Oh?” She looked utterly baffled at that, and I found myself scrambling for an explanation that wouldn’t cast judgment on her bathing habits- which were definitely none of my business.

“We thought you turned it on to mask the sound of you leaving.” As I spoke, I realized I was admitting we’d been spying on them, but neither sibling looked surprised.

“Oh!” The sound was brighter. A flash of intelligence sparked in her eyes, but there was no malice as she cheerfully accepted my explanation. “No, I’m still here!”

She smiled widely, as though she was happy to be here, happy to be marrying me, rather angry or dismayed at being woken from years of hibernation and forced to accept the hand of a stranger--an enemy--to stop a war she wasn’t a part of.

The air filled with silence after her proclamation. Before I could think of a way to express my relief that she was, well, the way she was, her head cocked to the side. I recognized the motion, and now that I was paying attention, I could hear a set of footsteps making their way down the hall, so I wasn’t surprised by the ratatat-tat at the door.

Lord Jasper jumped forward with a tense look at his sister. “I’ll get it.” His pinched expression showed more concern than it had when we’d broken down his door, and I subtly shifted my jacket to make it easier to draw my weapon.

The smell of teriyaki chicken and sauteed vegetables wafted into the room as Lord Jasper opened the door and accepted two large bags of takeout from a gangly delivery boy.

Dai stepped up to my side as I straightened my jacket. The mirth dancing in her eyes told me she hadn't missed the movement. “Would you like to eat with us?”

____

Special thanks to @im-a-wonderling for all her amazing insights and edits! Love you seester!

Taglist:

UM do I need a separate taglist for fantasci? Maybeeee?!? Haha comment/reblog with your requests to be added to my fantasci taglist.

#dai discovers #happy dai #dai the dragon #fantasci tumblr #marriage of alliance #arranged marriage trope #fluff #It really is just wait #guys just wait for all the things that dai is going to discover #fantasci writing community #fantasci snippet #fantasci

17 notes · View notes

rhosmeinir · 1 year ago

Text

Fictober 2023 #23

Prompt #23: “No, you won't understand, ever.”

Fanfiction: Good Omens

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Pairing: Ineffable Husbands/Aziracrow

Other Notes: In which Crawly and Aziraphale make small talk, and it goes wrong, then right. 868 words!

Angel and demon perched together on the wall over the Eastern Gate, some time after Adam and Eve had left the Garden. No one had told either of them to do anything else, and they’d decided that this was as good a place as any to pass the time. It was night, cool and quiet, blanketed in a quiet broken only by occasional amphibian humming or the muted song of a tardy twilight bird. After watching the sunset, they had turned back to the East where the sky was blackest to talk of everything and nothing in the gathering night. Crawly was slumped in his typical posture, leaning with crossed arms on top of the wall, and Aziraphale sat neatly atop it, ankles crossed, airing out his wings.

“Do you miss being.. well, downstairs?” the angel asked awkwardly during a lull in the conversation, “I mean, not a lot of company up here, that is. Could get boring rather quickly.”

“Hell, you mean?” Crawly drawled, glancing over at Aziraphale, “Nah. Everything’s a bit of a mess down there. And it’s not exactly meant to be fun, you know.”

“Do you… do you miss Heaven?” This question was far more tentative than the first, and was clearly what Aziraphale had really wanted to ask. His clasped fingers fidgeted. Crawly straightened, and considered Aziraphale for a long, silent moment. The fidgeting intensified. Then,

“Nah,” Crawly repeated flatly, and turned his face eastward again, “Things are a bit of a mess up there too. I prefer it here. It’s not complicated, y’know? Just me and the animals and a couple of people out there somewhere. Well, and you, of course.” He shrugged. “Company’s not so bad.”

“I just— well,” Aziraphale struggled to find the words to express what he was trying to say. Crawly had been his only experience of a demon so far, and he couldn’t quite understand what was supposed to be so evil about him, though he was sure he must be. Then there was the matter of their previous acquaintance, and how he couldn’t shake the image of the angel he had known. “I know it’s not the same, but I haven’t been up to Heaven in quite a while either, and until you appeared I was finding it a bit lonely. So I supposed I just wanted to say that I can sort of understand, how” —he cast about for the right words— “How it can feel to.. to look up at the stars and think of what you’ve left behind.”

“No!” Crawly snapped; the angel’s words had triggered something inside him, and he turned sharply, ragged black wings flaring into manifestation of their own accord. In the pale light of the moon his face was contorted with rage, and his voice crackled with venom as he hissed, pounding his fist into the stone of the wall, “No you don’t! No, you won’t ever understand, not ever.” Aziraphale jumped back in astonishment, and found his hand reaching for the hip where he had used to carry the flaming sword. With a massive effort, Crawly drew in a shuddering breath, and turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand as the other waved vaguely at Aziraphale.

“I’m sorry, Aziraphale. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just,” Crowley dropped his hand, and with both splayed on top of the wall, turned his face upwards, opening his golden eyes to gaze into the nightblack sky. “I can’t see the stars,” he said quietly, and Aziraphale could see the strain at the corner of Crawly’s eyes as he tried to bring them into focus, “They took that from me in the Fall. She took that from me.” He glanced to the side and pointed at his face with one long finger and the hint of a rueful smile. “Snake eyes, you see? And there’s nothing I can do to change them,” he looked up again, brows pinching together, “I’ve tried.”

Aziraphale looked at Crawly aghast, both at the confession and of the cruelty inflicted upon him behind it. He had been there with Crawly when the then-angel had created the stars, when he’d wound up the Universe itself and spoken it into being. He’d seen the nebulae, planets, moons, suns, and all other celestial bodies come into that universe, and his companion’s joy and wonder at their being. And now, not to even be able to see the faint echoes of them? He could not imagine the pain. Nor could he imagine why God would have done such a thing.

“Oh, Crawly,” Aziraphale said at last, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Carefully he reached out and, placing his hand on top of Crawly’s, squeezed gently. Crawly looked down at it, then withdrew his hand, placed it on top of Aziraphale’s, and squeezed back before clasping both his hands in front of himself.

“Why should you? Anyway, nothing you can do about it either.”

“Would you… would you like me to describe them to you?”

It was Crawly’s turn to look astonished this time, and his mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he managed to reply,

“That would be nice, Angel. Thank you.”

#fictober23 #fictober #good omens #gomens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #crawly #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

6 notes · View notes

echantedtoon · 1 year ago

Text

Butterflies In The Stomach

Just a what if couple I thought was interesting.

(This will reference all three of the Fairytopia movies. I left the ending open to anyone's interpretation.)

It started when he got a scroll from a babbling puffball. A scroll from Azura to help out the wingless fairy and to go quickly. He obliged. After all an order from Azura was to be followed through. And thus started one of the the most extraordinary adventures of his life. Especially with a group of people who he never expected to be traveling with at all. Including one extraordinary fairy.

Elina.

The wingless fairy that no one expected to be the catalyst of Laverna's plans. The savior of all Fairytopia. The one whom stopped the evil and rescued them all. In the end returning peace and gaining what she wanted most im the world. To fly. However he still remembered their interactions. Their small interactions with one another.

"Thank you, Hue. Thank you for showing me what it's like to fly!"

He was her first flying experience. Possibly the only time she's ever flown before. He didn't think of that at the time only doing his job as Azura had asked of him. But now, at this moment, it held special to him. He didn't know how or why it started. Perhaps it was after he'd gotten very sick. He'd ingested some of the sickness Laverna poisoned the air with and had gotten incredibly weak as a result. Elina noticed making him land for his own good. He insisted on going to protect her. It was his job! He was supposed to take her where she wanted to go and keep her safe. But I'm the end she was the one who went and he was forced to rest. But not before she kissed his cheek. Perhaps that's when all these feelings started. The fuzzy feeling in his chest and warmth in his cheeks. And when she declared that she'd be confronting Laverna he couldn't just let her go alone.

"I'm coming too! Because y'know.... It's my job."

It all worked out for everyone in the end Laverna was defeated and Elina was gifted wings by the Enchantress. That was almost a year ago behind him now and he has been put on an extensive order for a break from any work along with anyone else affected by the sickness in order to ensure a full recovery as ordered by the Guardians and the Enchantress. He was so happy when he was FINALLY given the ok to start working and especially flying for long periods of time again. And the first place on his stopping list was Azura. Surely she'd be able to help him figure out what complicated emotions were going on in his body. It's just a good thing he lived a few branches away from her in Fairytown. The blue flowers everywhere filled the air with a sweet perfumed scent as he flapped his wings and waved through the branches of the flowers until reaching a very familiar fairy house. He stopped just in front of the door inhaling the nerves away as he just walked up to the door and knocked. In all honesty he wasn't even sure if she was going to be home. After all she WAS a guardian and she had very important business to take care of. With one last sigh his hand reached out and loudly knocked. There he then waited. Perhaps she really wasn't- He jumped when the door opened and a very familiar blue haired fairy flew there smiling at him.

"Hue. What a pleasant surprise. I haven't seen you in ages," she happily greeted him before backing away and gesturing at him to come in, "Won't you come in?"

"Oh. Um. *ahem* Yes. Thank you!" He was so tall he had to duck just to enter the home and his wings tucked away further to drag behind him. Ah. Her home looked as beautifully decorated with plenty flowers. "I do hope I'm not intruding on anything." He turned as the door closed.

"Would you like anything to drink? I have some wonderful dandelion tea and it tastes wonderful with some buttercup milk and honey."

"Um..Sure. Thank you." It would be better to accept to be a polite guest.

She waved a hand and an entire giant tray carrying a tea set floated down from no where in blue sparkles. "Now what brings you here on this fine day?" She set a out making him a cup as soon as the floating tea set stopped in front of her. "Have you been recovering well?"

"Huh? Oh yes! I've been given a full recovery! Thank you for asking!" He cleared his throat again and tried not to be nervous. "I just... though it would be a good idea to report to you personally that I'm going back to work!" He nodded and blinked as a tiny cup was held out to him. "Oh..T-Thank you ." He slowly took it from her.

"It's good to hear that you're well again. It'll be good to have you around again."

He slowly nodded. "Um...There was another reason as to why I came here now that you brought it up!" She turned to him with a smile as he sputtered. "Um...Well it's complicated..I just...E-ELINA!! I heard you visited her lately. *ahem*" He strained a smile. "H-H-How is she doing?"

Azura rose a brow but still smiled. "She's perfectly fine. I was just congratulating her on a job well done for saving Fairytopia once again from Laverna's evilness."

"PFFT?!" He choked on his drink and nearly spat tea all over Azura whom just continued smiling. After coughing a little bit he stared back at her in disbelief. "I-I beg your pardon?!"

"Oh yes. I don't think you've heard about it yet since most of it happened in an entirely different kingdom. Why don't you just get yourself another cup of tea and I'll tell you all about it?"

And she did. The entire thing. From the poison in the coast they had to clean out, to the newfound thankfulness the Mermaidia royal family had to the Fairy people for Elina's great service, to how Elina helped to save all of Fairytopia once again with the help of a mermaid named Nori and the mermaid Prince Nalu to keep Laverna from getting the Immunity Berry in her clutches. To the Enchantress adding another condition to Laverna's banishment. If she left the Bogs of the Hinterlands, she'll become a real toad forever. That should detour her a bit more. Although his mood soured a bit remembering that Merman. Oh yes. He remembered Nalu. The merman he met briefly about a year ago at the coast while being chased by fire birds. He rubbed him the wrong way but...he didn't understand why? He should have more regard considering that it was a prince he was thinking about but..He didn't like the way he interacted with Elina. Again he didn't know why. He was clearly within his right to treat her nicely and he never saw Nalu be rude to her in anyway so why would he not like that?

"Hmph. Yes. I'm sure Prince Nalu would send for Elina," he said a little annoyed sipping on that tea with a frown. Although he didn't know why. Azura just rose a brow at him. "She is the hero of Fairytopia after all and is more than capable of helping him."

She hummed. "You seem to dislike the idea of Elina helping Prince Nalu, Hue."

"Of course not. I'm not upset. Why would I be upset with Prince Nalu needing her help? The important thing is that everyone is safe and sound and Laverna is defeated still."

"I agree. And I look forward to attending Prince Nalu's wedding next year."

Hue froze. Blinking big purple eyes at her. "... Wedding? Prince Nalu? What wedding?"

"Why Prince Nalu's wedding to his fiance Nori. She was the one who helped Elina save his life." She rose a brow still smiling knowingly as he sighed in relief. "He was kind enough to invite all the Guardians and the Enchantress. Who did you think he was marrying?"

"I-...N-No one. I was just shocked is all. *ahem" W-Well then. It seems I have stayed long enough." He stood up clearing his throat and placing the cup down. "T-Thank you for the tea. I-It was good seeing you again. I should be going on my usual patrolls now. Take care, Ma'am."

And he left. He should really. Azura was rather busy getting ready to usher in the first blush of spring with the other guardians and their apprentices and Ms. Azura hadn't picked out a personal apprentice herself. Months passed by and the new blush of Spring came and went delivering the first rainbow of the new year when the new year came in those few months. He did try to forget about it but his mind always revolved around Elina. Her smile. Her laughter. Her kindness and soft nature. The kiss she gave his cheek- He tried to shake it off so much. But it always came back. He felt relief when he knew she was not the one Prince Nalu was marrying and that she was alright. And the blush's first rainbow only reminded him of the rainbow in her eyes and how special she was. He didn't understand why at first but even he couldn't be blind forever. The realization hit him while flying one day. Nearly made him run into a tree from shock.

He had feelings.

For Elina.

Nononono!! This couldn't be happening! ..But it was. Hue had gotten himself hopelessly, utterly lost in a crush. Sigh. Oh well. There really wasn't anything he could do about it other than wait till it passes. In the meantime he should really see Azura again. Word was that the Guardians were recovering from being infected by toad venom. While he heard she would be alright, he still wanted to go and make sure she was alright. He arrived at the home and knocked on the door. Someone yelled at him to come in and he obliged opening the door and ducking through the doorway. He found said Guardian relaxing in a lounge chair and reading. Azura looked...pale, with bags under her tired eyes. Just like someone who was sick. But still she smiled at him.

"Hue. What a nice surprise," she greeted with a smile. "It's been awhile. How are you these days?"

"Me? What about you? I heard you were sick and came to check on your well-being. You look pale."

"Oh I'll be fine. The doctors already assured everyone that we'll be fine in a month or two. Already we're able to fly again without any problems but they insist on us resting as much as possible."

"Good choice. But what happened?! I only heard that Laverna returned AGAIN and you were poisoned by toad venom!"

"Come in and have a seat. I'll tell you all that happened. I could use some company that isn't a book anyways."

He obliged and she did tell him. Everything. From Azura choosing Elina as her apprentice (no brains that would happen), to all their training, to Laverna tricking Elina into releasing her and deceiving everyone with disguises (THAT EVIL WOMAN), how ten years of winter almost came, and how Elina and the other apprentices once again saved Fairytopia. And once again he was shocked at just how amazing she was.

"But... She's alright isn't she? E-Elina?" He looked worried.

Azura only smiled knowingly. "Of course she is. She's home right now."

He sighed relieved before nodding. "Of course. ..I would expect as much." He then nodded. "Well then. That clears up that. I'm only glad things once again worked out for us all. If there is anything I can do for you while you recover-"

"Actually. There is." She smiled and waved a hand. He blinked as paper and a pencil flew over to her in a swarm of blue sparkles. He watched as she grabbed them, wrote something on the paper, before rolling it up, and holding it out to him. "I want this message to be taken to Elina." He perked up. Elina?! "Would you deliver it for me?"

He blinked for a moment before lighting up and taking the scroll. "Of course! Magic Meadow is only a few hours away from Fairytown! I'll be there and back before the day's over!" And he'll be able to see Elina again! "I'll get right to it! You can count on me, Azura!" He immediately turned to leave.

Azura only smiled waving him good bye. "I know you will, Hue. Safe flying now."

He was taking off within seconds. Flying through the sky and quickly towards the Magic Meadow. Towards her. Towards Elina. The blue flowers of Fairytown flew by underneath him before they slowly became a darkened woods within two hours, then another hour passed and they turned into a lush green wide open field filled with giant flowers, and lush grass and many other people flying around him. Fairies and Pixies. There was quite a lot in the Magic Meadow. The Guardian Topaz really had her work cut out for her. He waved at a few of them as he flapped past descending to the ground and towards that one flower he knows Elina lives in. It felt like just yesterday he was here and flew with her as she first got her wings nearly two years ago now. Ah. There it was. He was quick to land and fold his wings down as he immediately stood up and looked around. Yes. This was the place, and this was the flower. Now all he had to do was find Elina. His heart was pumping in his chest at the thought.

"E-Elina?," he called out placing a hand on the giant flower. No answer. Perhaps she wasn't home? He knocked on the petal louder. "Elina?! Are you home?!"

"Hue?" He froze at the soft kind voice. That's her! "Is that you?"

"Elina!" He quickly turned with a smile..but blinked at what he saw. It was her alright. Hair as golden as sunshine. Eyes blue as sky. Smile bright. But she looked so.. different than he'd last seen her. Her wardrobe changed from than pale pink dress to a dark magenta one with the bust striped with all the colors of the rainbow. Her wing..Oh her wings were VERY different. They were once a pale pink when she first got them back then but now they looked to be made of stained glass. They were completely clear and see through as the edges but gradiated into rainbow colors near where they met her back...He blinked as she landed. "Elina? You look so... different. Ah! B-But a good different! You look amazing!"

She smiled as she landed and held out her arms in a hug. "Thank you! Hue!" He froze as she hugged him. "It's been so long!" She then pulled away to smile up at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Um.." He cleared his throat and hoped she didn't see the red on his face. "I came to visit you of course!"

"Prrrrata! Bibble adacca peemba!"

He blinked now noticing the pouting puffball companion. Oh right. He nearly forgot about him for a moment. "Oh. And you of course." The puffball smiled in satisfaction as Hue looked up at the giant flower. "*ahem* And that must be Peony. Azura told me all about her. She's a rather beautiful flower."

Elina tilted her head to the plant, and seemed to listen to something he couldn't hear. "She says thank you. How is Azura? I haven't had time to visit her yet."

"She's doing well. Should be recovered fully soon enough. Oh! That reminds me!" He held out the scroll to her. "The reason why I'm here. She wanted me to deliver this message to you."

"A message?" She slowly took the scroll from him.

"Yes..So how was the apprenticeship? Azura told me you did well."

"Oh fine. I met so many new people. London's even helping me learn to speak actual toad, in case Laverna returns again. He's an oread after all."

He paused at the mention of the man. "Oh...So you..met someone."

"I met lots of someones. Lyndon's a good friend. We've been writing letters since he's been busy with Lumina." She opened the message as he again sighed in relief. Oh. They're just friends. Elina read the message. ..Then blinked. Then exchanged looks with her puffball before both looked up at him confused."Um. Hue. Is there something else you need to tell me?"

Now he looked confused. "No. Why?"

Her answer was to hand him back the open scroll and he took it confused but froze once he read what Azura wrote.

'Ask Hue about his feelings towards you. I believe you two should have a talk.'

"Hue. Is there anything you need to say?"

He opened his mouth and looked panicked between the scroll and her many times... before guilty lowering his arms and antennas. And sighed. "Yes. There is something else."

"What is it? You can tell me."

"I think... I've fallen for you."

There was silence between the two of them for a long moment before he blinked as a hand took his and purple eyes widened in surprise at her.

"Hue. I think we do need to have a talk "

#Barbie #barbie fairytopia #elina x hue

3 notes · View notes

hazbinextgeneration · 1 year ago

Text

Butterflies In The Stomach

Just a couple I thought was interesting. I don't own anything/belongs to Mattel.