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twstjam · 11 months

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And if I were someone else (would this be easier?) - Part 1

If you woke and I was gone From the house that we made our home Would it bend you, break you, overtake your heart Like it did my own? (Easier by the Crane Wives)

Ship(s): Friends to Lovers Malleyuu

Word count: 3k

Summary: Your fae friend Tsunotarou had cursed the King. If you want to live, you're going to have to kill him.

Or: Actually, this one is pretty straightforward I think.

Masterlist

AO3 Link

Tsunotarou is fae.

You'd known this the moment you set eyes on his pale face. The sparkling magical lights lingering around him had made your unexpected company visible to you even in the inky darkness of the abandoned manor's grounds. Despite what he evidently was, you didn't turn him away.

Curious about his presence, you had greeted him like anyone would a stranger. You knew of course the conflict currently going on between the humans and the fae, but you also couldn't imagine that just saying "hi" to someone could hurt anyone.

"Hi." led into "Who are you?" , which then turned into "Good evening." s, and then "How are you?" s, followed by "Did you know that gargoyles have a function as drainage spouts?"

You probably should've stopped before things got to that point, but the world didn't end the day after so you didn't see any reason to. In fact, you only saw more reason to keep meeting up with Tsunotarou. As a fae, he had interesting views you were unused to hearing and seemed equally intrigued by yours as a human. He was also significantly much more intelligent than you, but instead of looking down on you, he eagerly taught you anything you didn't know. His knowledge was all book-smarts though, and when it came to something like social cues, he was suddenly the oblivious one.

Despite how objectively terrifying he should be as a tall figure draped in all black that seemed to manifest out of the shadows, you found yourself being endeared to him more and more with each night. You always ended up returning home with a big smile and a skip in your step. Even with your line of work restricting you to the grounds of the Rosehearts estate, Tsunotarou helped the world feel just a bit bigger with his unique mind and boundless knowledge.

But of course, as everybody knows; nothing lasts forever. You shouldn't have been foolish enough to think this would be an exception to that rule.

---

Tensions between humans and fae inevitably rose and with it your responsibilities in helping manage the Rosehearts estate. Things became busier and more hectic than ever, pulling you away from being able to enjoy leisure time and with it, nights with Tsunotarou.

That wasn't the only thing that slipped from you, though. At some point during all the chaos, wagons of rations caught fire— blue fire. In your overexerted state, you'd gotten too distracted to keep watch on Grim. Being beheaded by Riddle became the least of your worries when your menace of a monster cat was subdued and caged at the king's orders.

A part of you wanted to leave him to his fate. He got what was coming to him. But the softer and undeniably bigger part of you twinged painfully at the thought of standing back and doing nothing to try and save your friend.

Curse you and your bleeding heart.

So you'd requested to meet the King. Though the mere thought made you want to hurl, once you were before him you got on your knees and touched your forehead to the carpet that no doubt cost more than everything you've ever owned combined.

And then you took the blame.

There, on your hands and knees before the king, you spun an impassioned plea from the heart, strung together with all the fancy sophisticated jargon you could possibly dig out of your brain.

The King wasn't swayed.

But of course, he was swayed by something a king like him could never miss nor pass on: opportunity.

Even from afar as you entered the grand room you were able to notice it. Sickly pale skin, bloodshot eyes, sunken cheeks, and glowing green veins beneath the King's skin that were most definitely unnatural. All of it stemmed from a bandage wound around one of his arms, stained an unnerving black and glowing green.

You'd heard about it of course—Everyone had. It was the sole reason for the drastic increase in tension between human and fae relations after all;

A fae had cursed the King.

And just like how he wasn't willing to forgive Grim's transgressions so easily, the King was hellbent on hunting down that fae. And so came his demand—and at his words your heart had sunk with realisation.

"Kill the horned creature. Avenge me... and you and your pet shall be pardoned."

Your fae friend Tsunotarou had cursed the King. If you want to live, you're going to have to kill him.

---

The King's words rewound in your mind—Over and over and over, like a broken record. Your eyes look ahead of you, but you don't realise you've reached the old ruins until your feet come to a stop on their own. After your audience with the King, you had returned home to the Rosehearts estate and pondered your options. Though you hadn't enlightened them on your new dilemma, even Ace and Deuce had left you alone when you'd asked them to, so you really must have looked like you'd seen Death himself when you showed up at the estate again.

You had a choice to make—Tsunotarou's life, or yours and Grim's. After what felt like hours of holeing yourself up in your room and thinking restlessly, you finally gave in. The King's terms had begun to repeat in your mind then, as if to remind you of the betrayal you've been ordered to commit despite it having been branded into your brain alongside the faded smile of an old friend from the dark.

The shadows of the mansion's garden welcome you with its fingers of overgrown weeds and branches that form ominous reaching shadows in the moonlight. The familiarity brought a strange sort of comfort, but the King's voice in your head chased it away as soon as it came. The light of both the moon and your lantern help guide you to the worn pavilion of crumbling stone where you and Tsunotarou have spent countless nights talking about anything and everything.

The lack of green lights around the area is apparent as you swivel around to find them. You can't help feeling a bit disappointed even though the rational part of you knows that even Tsunotarou wouldn't come and wait for you after so many times of being stood up. You hope he isn't too mad at you.

You set your lantern down on the bench so that you can cup your hands around your mouth and call out.

The name you call him by is a nickname. He'd seemed amused by you not knowing his true identity in an unexpectedly endearing, childish way, so you'd indulged him. At this point though, it's hard to imagine him having any name other than "Tsunotarou", but still, using it now leaves the taste of bile in your mouth each time you force it out of your throat.

"Tsunotarou!" you yell hoarsely. " Tsuno —"

"You return."

You startle at the sudden deep timbre of Tsunotarou's voice. You swerve around and sure enough, your fae friend stands there, tall and proud and dressed in robes of night as always. His black hair shimmers like silk in the moonlight and his reptilian green eyes pierce you as he looks down at you impassively, face glowing an ominous green as the glitter of magic lingers in the air. Even in all his tall, sculpted, flawless fae glory, Tsunotarou wouldn't be complete without the long horns that curve proudly atop his head like an onyx crown.

"So. How is life with the humans?" His tone is as stony as his gaze, giving off the impression that he holds complete disinterest and was merely being polite. You can tell though that he's upset by the slight downturn of his lips that hint at the beginnings of a pout.

Fondness suddenly swells in your chest and an unwelcome smile tugs on the corners of your own lips. You resist it and refocus on the matter at hand.

"I came to warn you," you begin, straight to the point. "The king's after you, Tsunotarou, because of what you did to him. He won't stop until you're dead."

You watch his face closely for his reaction. It doesn't change much in response except for the slight raise of his eyebrows.

"I see." He sounds more thoughtful now. He's even looking at you instead of through you, and whatever goes through his head softens his gaze to something that you're more familiar with. "This was something I foresaw when I cursed him. Regardless, it was inevitable that that foul man would search for a reason to slay me like a common beast, and yet..."

His expression eases into something warm, changing completely from its stoic countenance into something you might call affectionate. Tsunotarou steps forward and reaches for your hand. You allow him to hold it and the tension in your body unwinds, unbidden, at his touch.

"...you still came to warn me of the potential threat." His smooth, thin fingers rub over yours carefully, as if he is feeling the exact construction of your fingers down to the flesh and bone. An amused chuckle, a sound not unlike the darkest of chocolates, escapes his smiling lips. "My dearest child of man... I assure you that I am in no danger. Do not despair. I will ensure your journey here wasn't for naught."

You blink up at him dumbly. His smile lifting further contributes to your confusion.

"I..." Stunned as you are, it takes you a bit longer to string words together. As you struggle, Tsunotarou gently guides you to sit down next to him on the bench as if the past few minutes didn't just happen. As if the past few weeks didn't just happen, when you'd stopped seeing him without a word despite being his friend. "...You're not mad at me?"

"Mad?" Despite the question, Tsunotarou doesn't sound surprised, the easy smile remaining on his face. "Whatever for?"

His expression stays unexpectedly at ease, but it occurs to you then that, for whatever reason, your friend has a tendency of (badly) hiding his hurt feelings behind a facade of contentment for politeness . You once again feel that immense guilt weighing in your chest.

"You don't have to act like you're not upset," you sigh, gaze looking downward shamefully. "It's alright. I want you to be upfront with me. I don't blame you if you're mad. I'm sorry I stopped talking to you and didn't tell you anything, I—"

You cut yourself off with a squeak when Tsunotarou's hand on your back suddenly pushes you towards him, giving you a faceful of his built chest.

"Hush now," he tuts, fingers threading through your hair while the other rubs your back as if he was soothing a fussy child. "As I have said, please do not despair. There is no reason to. I admit that I was... disappointed in your constant absences, but I understand that you have many responsibilities as I do, so I forgive you."

Tsunotarou's embrace is unyielding and borderline suffocating, but you smack his chest (to which he is completely unfazed by) and he lets you up to breathe and also look up at him in disbelief.

"You do...?"

You'd thought you'd be happy to hear those words from him, but instead dread further eats a cavity inside your chest to be filled with heavy, unwavering guilt.

Tsunotarou's smile is tooth-rotting, soft and sweet like cotton candy, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil as he ghosts the backs of his fingers over your cheek.

"But of course," Tsunotarou hums as he eases back on the bench. He pulls you along with him and this time you find yourself half-sprawled on top of him. "We are friends, are we not? And friends forgive each other."

His words are genuine. Innocent. The fondness in his eyes even more so. Nothing about the fae sitting beside you indicates he was a horned monster you were meant to kill.

You don't meet his eyes as you swallow and force yourself to relax against him, to which he makes a pleased sound and rests his head atop yours.

"Yeah. Friends."

---

The two of you remain sitting in the pavilion together in that position, your head tucked beneath his as he holds you and talks the night away like he always does. The days you spent apart fade into nonexistence, and things return to how they were before.

Or at least, it was easy to imagine they do.

Tsunotarou's dark robes are silky soft beneath your fingers. His hands' motions combined with how comfortable you feel against him and listening to him speak would be enough to lull you to sleep if your mind was calmer.

Tsunotarou clears his throat and you startle out of your thoughts.

"Ah, I apologize," he says with a slight rasp to his voice. "I appear to be losing my voice. Heh. I hadn't realized how much I've spoken."

He carefully runs his fingers through the tangles in your hair. When you look up at him, your gaze is caught by his hooded one. You feel yourself go pale. Not out of fear—You don't think you could ever be afraid of him, even if you've seen proof that he can easily decimate you—but a sick feeling that twists your gut at the unrestrained affection on his face.

"Time seems to fly by even faster when I'm with you," his voice is quieter, the softest puffs of breath from his lips fanning over your own.

You sit up. Tsunotarou leans after you as you pull away. Your fingers fumble with the satchel you'd brought before pulling out a waterskin.

"I brought some water. Here."

The contents of the waterskin slosh quietly as you present it to Tsunotarou. The fae blinks, his hooded eyes widening as if stunned by your offer.

"Ah." He recovers quickly, his smile creeping back onto his face. "Thank you. You're quite vigilant."

Your fingers are stiff as Tsunotarou accepts the waterskin. You smile, strained, as he uncorks it and takes a swig.

"Hm," you hear him hum, brows furrowing slightly. His eyes linger on the receptacle so briefly that you think you might have imagined it. His smile is the same as ever as he returns the waterskin to you.

You don't resist when he pulls you close again completely unprompted. He shifts slightly so he's able to comfortably lower his head onto your shoulder. One of his horns bumps the side of your head and his pale cheek squishes against yours.

Tsunotarou's touch is as careful as ever as he embraces you, his long sleeves draping over both of you like a blanket as he huddles in close. With a lump in your throat, you hover your arms awkwardly, unsure where to place them before reaching up and tentatively trailing a hand down the side of his face. His eyes droop closed. You can hear your racing heartbeat in your ears.

Your friend's weight grows heavier against you. He turns his head ever so slightly and his face is buried into your neck. You tense at the indentation of his fangs behind his lips resting right against your pulse.

You wait for something that doesn't come. Instead, Tsunotarou sighs, heavy and slow—content—and completely eases against you.

A beat passes. Another. Tsunotarou doesn't move.

"Tsu—Tsunotarou...?" you whisper shakily. You shove his shoulder. "Tsunotarou!"

He doesn't respond.

The cavity in your chest widens further. You feel hollow as you lift the fae off your shoulder and he's limp in your hold.

His head is a bit heavy, no doubt from his horns, but you manage to lift him up enough to respositon him so that he's instead lying on his side. You rest his head in your lap. An apology is caught in the tightness of your throat, instead spoken silently through fingers lightly brushing dark hair out of a peaceful, sleeping face.

Your fingers linger on Tsunotarou's face and you quickly pull away before you indulge yourself too much. Instead, you reach into your satchel again for the iron dagger you'd brought. It glints in the moonlight and you can't help but feel like it's taunting you.

If it could speak, you imagine that it'd be calling you a coward. It doesn't say anything though, and instead the only sounds that accompany you are your own rapid heartbeat, Tsunotarou's level breathing, and the squeaking of bats hiding in the night.

Another apology goes unspoken, instead coming out as a choked sob. Your fingers tremble around the hilt of the dagger as you raise it high with the blade pointing down. You resolutely do not look at Tsunotarou slumbering in your lap, blissfully unaware of your betrayal, but the effort proves to be useless.

Your hands shake. You scream. You bring the dagger down and it skids the side of the bench's seat as you fold over Tsunotarou in your lap, your shoulders shaking with unshed sobs.

Bats screech and take off into the night sky, but all you can hear is your own deep breaths as you try to calm your racing heart.

"I'm sorry," you whisper breathlessly into your friend's chest, who remains unaware of what his trust had led to— almost led to. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry—"

The dagger falls to the dirt with a thud, deceptively harmless. Tears finally flow from your eyes as you hold your friend and weep quietly. You're no doubt ruining his fine silk robes, but it's hard to care when you've come to terms with the fact that you'd just attempted to kill your friend to save your own skin.

What were you thinking? How could you have even considered killing Tsunotarou, who, despite very well having the ability to, (the King's ailment being clear evidence of this) never laid a hand on you or attempted to hurt you? How could you have been at the receiving end of his earnest smile and affectionate gaze and still almost gone through with the King's horrific demands?

You feel overwhelmingly ashamed of yourself. You cry harder into Tsunotarou's still sleeping body, uselessly rambling apologies between your sobs.

Your tears don't ease up, especially not when you realize that you're fully resigned to accepting the King's full punishment and that, as a price, this is the last night you'll have with Tsunotarou.

---

Come dawn, Malleus wakes up alone.

#twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland au #twst yuu #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia x yuu #malleus draconia x mc #malleyuu #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #matcha writes a bit

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theyandereonmyoji · 1 year

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General Yandere Sonic the Hedgehog Headcanons

TW: mentions of kidnapping, implied murder

Well, just say goodbye to having any time for yourself whatsoever, because he’ll make sure that he’s the most prominent hedgehog in your life. He’ll be there for you almost 24/7, and If he has other stuff with any other friends that day then he’ll make sure to include you in whatever it is.

He’s 100% a showoff, no I don’t make the rules. If Eggman is causing any trouble, Sonic would basically challenge himself to a speed-run of how fast he he can beat him. Then return to you and wait for you to praise how much of a fast, strong, and reliable hero he is. It doesn’t matter if you actually praise him or not, because either way he’ll just try to beat his last record, even if it means abandoning some of his heroism in favor of being more…brutal and efficient. After all, he has to work hard to earn your affection.

As long as it is with his friends, he would allow to have somewhat of a social life outside of him. However, anyone who he doesn’t know prior is a big no-no. The moment he sees you chatting with someone he considers a stranger, he’s shoehorning himself into the conversation and make up whatever excuse in order to get you away from them. The next day they seem to avoid even looking your way, or in some cases they just disappear. When eventually most of your friends leave you, Sonic will make sure you know that he’ll never, ever leave your side, just make sure to not point out the subtle scent of blood emanating from his body ok?

He’s really touchy, definitely. While with other people he would limit himself to holding your hand (probably a bit too tightly) and just being nearby you all the time. Once you two are alone, you’re his personal pillow that he can hug, sleep, and nuzzle against. He definitely also loves headpats, both giving and receiving. There’s just something so precious about you that he can’t help himself but want to give you as many headpats as he can, and he definitely adores how soft your hand feels when touching his head, even if just for a second.

He may be a hero that fights for the freedom of everyone around him. But he know how dangerous the world can be, whether it’s Eggman or some ancient god that decided to try to destroy the world that day. He would have a breaking point where he would lock you up “somewhere safe”, and while that breaking point is really hard to snap, it’ll always be a matter of when rather than if.

Maybe you were getting tired of him not letting you have a life outside of him, but the moment you try to tell him that you don’t need him and you can take care of yourself, it’s game over. It would be a bit ominous to see him just stand there and do absolutely nothing to stop you from leaving that awkward scene. But that night will be the last time you get to sleep in your bed, because the next day you’ll wake up somewhere else entirely with a shackle around your ankle attached to the bed you’re laying on.

He would enter the room to greet you as if nothing from the prior day had happened, but the smile plastered in his face doesn’t seem to reach his eyes. As he approaches you, he begins to scold you for your behavior the other day, and that he clearly can’t trust you to be out and about in the world if you think something that foolish.

This hedgehog can run around the entire planet in less than a minute, so unless you can live underwater for all of your life, you can’t escape him. So you should probably make life easier for the two of you and just let him hug you already. PD: Hi guys I finally made some time to write something, yay! I have some other stuff planned, but seeing how Twitter is getting a bit of a fan art push for yandere Sonic, I couldn't help myself but post this one first. we need for yandere content for him! Who's with me?

#yandere #sonic the hedgehog #yandere sonic the hedgehog #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere headcanons #sth #sonic x reader #yandere sonic the hedgehog x reader #yandere sonic

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byrdtrolls · 20 days

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In Loving Memory of Kokoro Kimura

Fleet Correspondence, 4/4/753, Archen (Cleanser) Aurela to Artemi (Midas) Anatol, reads the plain black archives folder.

The simple fact of the matter is, we have reached the point where the population and renown of your ‘small port side town’ has long since exceeded the levels with which the fleet is comfortable no longer being involved in it, which is putting it nicely.

The letter begins.

You cannot lie, cheat and steal your way into creating what is basically a sovereign city state on this planet. You are lucky you have run unchecked for so long. Such an offense could be forgiven, if Midas were to make an honest case for being a GHB over Tes Roven. I am once again frustrated that you have derailed our correspondence from him. We are making a generous compromise with you and you will not even allow us to speak with who is in charge. The fleet will not ask again. Midas must come forward and swear loyalty to the empire to lay any sort of claim to this territory.

Hi,

This is Kokoro Kimura, again. Your ludicrous compromise is not the middle ground you imagine it to be.

You will not be corresponding with Midas, nor will he be making any kind of claim to this territory. Tes Roven belongs to me.

I have long since been in charge of its entire economy, its governance, its workforce, and all its public affairs. I have the documentation going back 200 sweeps to prove it, and I have copies attached.

I can see your confusion around Midas as a figurehead. I know he is exactly the kind of troll you want to have raised a city state from nothing, and I allowed you to indulge in this fantasy in the hopes of avoiding conflict. For sweeps I have given him the credit for the work I did to install him and create this place. But I must disappoint you- him and Gihyun both work for me.

And any attempt to transfer this power to pigeonhole it into your narrow ideas of caste would result in the city falling apart at the seams.

I accept your facade of ever having this conversation on logical terms at face value- as a facade. All logic insists that I am capable of running this city. I have been doing it, unbeknownst to you, for 200 sweeps. But the fleet’s carnevale impression of reality could never cave to such reasonable terms. You aim to refuse me on the basis of my blood color and lay siege to my home as a result.

Let us not be polite with each other.

Your pretend negotiation reveals your cowardice. I would not be receiving letters from you were you not scared.

I will offer you a way out fitting of a coward. Make me a backdoor. Make me a loophole.

Make me a shiny little medal that says once in five million sweeps an oliveblood could serve in your system of governance but only if he’s the specialist boy.

And sure, I will swear loyalty to your military. I’ll make myself a cozy little corner of alternia and I’ll never bother you again.

Bend your rules backwards just enough that you will not force me to break them.

And before you attempt to lecture me on my audacity, recall that I could have kept this information from you. Remember that I could have stayed quiet- I could have told Midas to humor you and continued behind the scenes. Renowned fleet military strategy experts ask yourself. If this of all things is the first card I played. Then what else am I keeping in my hand?

Hello again, Kimura.

Even in whatever ridiculous fantasy world you must think we live in, I cannot imagine there is much else in your ‘hand’. Your bluff is transparent and pathetic. Centuries of paperwork do not actual power make. I would be frustrated by your foolishness if I did not find it so amusing. What kind of trolls do you surround yourself with that have allowed you to become so delusional about your place?

You say you don’t want to be polite- fine. We will be at your doorstep next evening, to kill you. Our strategists examined your logic and found a fatal flaw- assuming you have something else in your hand requires that we first assume you are not an idiot. We find no evidence to base such an assumption.

The exchange ends there.

Sunset leafs through the rest of the papers for Kokoro’s next response, but only finds what must be the 200 sweeps worth of paperwork Kokoro had sent the fleet. At first glance it looks real, but he doesn’t know much about bookkeeping. The young mafia lord briefly considers running it by an expert. Not out of doubt of the oliveblood claims, but in the name of being thorough. Yet he cannot think of a troll he would trust with the information. He pauses. Sunset pulls out his camera, and begins the painstakingly slow process of photographing every single one of the pages with his phone.

The fleet archives camera blinks its slow, red light in the corner about him. The loop they’re feeding into the security footage of a blank room will only keep running for another hour. His knowledge that he only has so much time wrestles with his want to be methodical and careful. He has wiped his presence from the minds of any of the fleet personnel he passed, but sadly, his voodoos did not work on machines. He finishes his documentation in the nick of time, leaving him 15 minutes to exit the facility. He carefully places the papers back into their classified file with his gloved hands, and speedily makes his exit. The gears of his mind doing catapults around the information he had barely had time to fully process. Kokoro’s words echoing in his mind. Tes Roven belongs to me.

300 sweeps ago, Gihyun Yupark bursts into Kokoro’s room, slamming a pile of papers down on his desk.

“What the fuck is this” The Jadeblood hisses.

“A woman who can’t knock” The olive shrugs. “And a pile of papers, though I assume you refer to what's on them” Jokes the man.

“Don’t play stupid, Koko.” She says. “Since when do I fucking work for you!”

“Since when do you read my mail?” Kokoro says, straightening the letters.

“Since you tried to pull a fast one on me with that art gallery job 70 sweeps ago” She accuses. “And this is not even your mail! It’s Midas’s, which YOU derailed.”

“Oh, save it, Gi” He says, with an amount of venom in the man’s voice you are unaccustomed to hearing in his exchanges with Gihyun. “It was a double cross. But I didn’t say a word that wasn’t true.”

“I don’t work for you” She repeats.

“I have 200 sweeps of paperwork that says different.”

“You do the books” She says. “We do the-”

“Killing people” He autocompletes her sentence. “Do you realize, how much fucking work it is? To run a fucking city? Do you have any idea what the two of you dumped on me when you said we want the glory and you do the paperwork, Gi?”

“You could have said no,” She retorts, pointing.

“I could not have said no,” He replies. “I knew you and Midas would be dead in days without me.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed!” She snaps.

“You have so little faith in me?” He grins.

“I’m not joking around, Kokoro! This is serious! I’m mad because I CARE about you! Why in ten million sweeps would you do such a thing!” She rants.

“Was I supposed to just. Let you two get all the credit. For the rest of time?” He says, staring at the table.

“That’s not what I said, Koko, we arranged things like this to keep you safe.” She pleads.

“Yeah, in a way that just coincidentally massively benefits both of you. Sure.” He says, almost sounding bored.

It is a moment before she speaks again.

“If you felt this way,” She says slowly. “Why didn’t you talk to me? I would have gotten it.”

“No, you wouldn’t” He hisses. “You are a midblood, Gi!”

There is a long, tense pause.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” She repeats.

“I have a plan,” He says.

“Of course you have a plan. This is still dumb” She says. “I’m telling him.”

“Gi” Kokoro says, instantly switching his tone. “Come on. Snitches get-”

“This is literally!” She says, throwing up her arms, “HIS mail. Don’t you think your Kismesis gets to know you told The Cleanser to his face you wanted him to make you the first oliveblood GHB?”

“That’s not what that said” He retorts.

“Then what does it say, Koko. What does it say?” Gihyun Yupark says, gesturing at the letter. “Enlighten me.”

It is Kokoro’s turn to be silent. He mulls on this for a long, long moment. The jadeblood in front of him narrows her eyes, and then storms out of the room.

Sunset wishes he could tell you the exact moment he knew. Those waters were muddied first by Midas’s absence from public life for 300 sweeps. Secondly by Sunsets complete lack of interest in the matter. And third with denial and emotion. Maybe when he first found a black and white photograph, of young Midas with his arms over his friends in a small casino, the first one The Falling Moon’s ever opened, and noted the shape of his horns. Maybe the several times in passing, he has walked by one of those little shrines to Kokoro and a friend, Casmie or Toni or Rasley, had unprompted told him jokingly, you look just like him. Occam’s razor decrees that the most reasonable explanation is the most likely. But it could never account for the twists and turns of an unpredictable universe.

Maybe he knew, sometime in the back of his head, as he zoned out at night staring at the door to his office, and the mirror across the way. Watching how, if he moved his head just right, the symbol on the door- the falling moon on fire, lines up with his horns oh so perfectly. So perfectly that no conclusion could be made other than it was that way by design. He had dismissed it, miles of reasonable evidence. He told himself even if it were true it wouldn’t matter to him. It wouldn’t change his mind, it wouldn’t change how he thought of either of them.

Midas was Midas. And Kokoro had abandoned all of them. He had left the smoldering pile of ash that was their city, to burn, and burn, and burn. But eventually, he caved, reckoning, if he was right, he did not want to be caught unaware, he did not want Midas to know more than he did. They only talked through Enin, Midas’s ever patient messenger. He could not be sure if the man had guessed. If Enin had shown him pictures, if Enin had described him to him. Enin must know. But Sunset knew him well enough to know the mirror creature had been the mafia long enough to know when to hold a trump card to his chest, and wait for the time it was valuable.

Against his will, the acceptance of this theory stirred long dead emotions in him. Sometimes, when wallowing in the tragedy of his youth, he imagined he had met Midas, when he was young, too young to remember, and the man had shook his head, glanced at his mutation, and rejected him. Sold him to that circus, or threw him out on the street. It was a strange kind of comfort to pretend such a rejection had already occurred. It rested the matter from his mind. But he had no way of knowing it was true. And he had enough reasons to hate Midas without making up imaginary ones.

The opposite fantasy upset him more. When he was young, he often pictured some distant relative, maybe an ancestor or an ancestors friend, or just a kind hearted soul, spotting him in the circus, whisking him away to a life of luxury and safety. Telling him he never belonged in such a place, that it was over. His pan could not help but wander, to the possibility, that Midas might have been that savior. That he may not reject him. That he had no idea where or what Sunset was, and if he did, he would free him, raise him into this life of excess and luxury and cruelty. Only the best for his descendant. Maybe give him his surgery even earlier than he had had it. The thought sickened him. He didn’t want to imagine what kind of troll he may have grown up to be in that case.

Midas, at least, he knew he hated without question. But his thoughts on Kokoro were too complex to count. An uneasy dislike. Suspicion, bitterness. Would he have preferred to be saved by the man he had quickly guessed was his ‘other’ ancestor? He could not tell you. He did not hate him as much as he hated Midas. But he had no love for him either. He was the only one in this city who knew the extent of his cowardice. Tes Roven had paid for it ten times over. The consequences of Midas’s reign. The reign he would have never had had Kokoro not ran, and ran, and ran.

But there were things to admire about him, undoubtedly. He now had an extensive economic record of how he structured the city. That and more he had dug up for old files. Kokoro had run several money laundering fronts. He had told rich highbloods hey- let me launder your money for you so you don’t have to pay fleet taxes. He siphoned off funds from these places in secret and sent them to community centers, libraries and infrastructure repair. The way in which he structured Tes Roven’s economy back in the day had been so intelligent Sunset frequently found himself stealing his ideas.

And he was an underdog. Hard not to root for an underdog, even if he couldn’t finish the fight he started. A scraggly mutt charging headfirst for a bigger, bigger animal. He did not know what to do with his fragile sympathy for him. It somehow made things worse.

The whole thing felt like one last kick to a wounded soul. He wanted to destroy the engineers of his suffering. But now he was forced to reckon with his similarities to them.

Because… he was similar to them. Prideful. Intelligent. Stubborn. Righteous. A liar and a hypocrite. A holder of grudges and a maker of great escapes.

He was the best of both of them.

He was the worst of both of them.

He was something else entirely. A tapestry of faults and virtues that paid their dues to both nurture and nature. He was fate itself on some fucked up kind of drug. He was the undoing of both of them. He was their rapture.

He could not tell you when he first knew. But he could not stop knowing. Could not fathom how to carry so invisible a burden. The weight of this knowledge silently flowed out of him at all times like a collapsing dam.

He had told no one.

300 sweeps ago, the same night, another visitor comes to Kokoro’s door with a gentle and patient knock. Koko is not seated at his desk now, the man is circling the desk in his office, pacing. He pauses, abruptly stopping the long march that had occupied the better part of the last three hours, inhaling.

“Why bother,” He says. “Gihyun’s already burst in here.”

“Koko,” Midas says softly, calling him Gihyuns nickname with such practiced affection and ease that it seems more his than hers. It is somehow both a warning and a plea.

Kokoro exhales, like the breath he started at the beginning of his sentence has only now just found the grace to leave his body.

“Come in” He says, with a gesture at the Door that the purpleblood likely cannot even see. “Get it over with.”

Midas steps into the room, looking so lost and tired for a man of his stature, the paintings and items on the walls and cabinets looming over them to the point they almost dwarf the man. Perhaps he stood that way, His back bent, with that languished expression, on purpose.

“I love you,” Are the first words that come out of his mouth, falling to the ground like a gift given and promptly dropped and shattered on the floorboards.

“I love you,” Kokoro says softly, “but…?” He extrapolates the end of Midas’s sentence from the air. “I love you but this puts you in danger, but this is idiotic, but this destroys everything we’ve spent centuries building, but how dare you?”

“I love you” Midas repeats, hanging up his coat on the rack. “Period.”

Kokoro seems caught off guard by this, stumbling blindly into the amiable conversation having braced for one identical to Gihyun’s.

“This,” The purpleblood makes a tired halfway gesture with his hands, flopping one gently in the air. “Only destroys everything we’ve spent centuries building, if you lose.” He continues. “And I know you don’t start fights you can’t win” He says. “So.” Midas lifts both hands halfway through the air in a shrug like gesture. “What do you need from me?”

For some reason, his approval made him even more trepidatious than his anger ever could. Gihyun hates the idea, Midas loves it. Against his will, second thoughts bang on the closed door of his mind with frenzy. Somewhere in his secret heart Koko must know which of these trolls he trusted more.

“What’d Gi say to you?” He says.

“She threatened to walk.” Midas says. “Said she’d take her third of the mafia with her. Wanted me to join her.”

“You said no?” Kokoro challenges.

“I said no,” He retorts.

“Why?” He says.

“Hey,” he says softly. “I’m with you Dushen’ka,” He says. “I think you were right. That’s why I did it.”

“Yeah?” Kokoro questions, still bristling, but his confidence starts to falter. “How’d that serve you?”

Midas meets his gaze, the man’s tired eyes staring so deep into Kokoro’s eyes he felt his image could step forward and climb through the little cornea.

“Do you have any idea?” He says. “What a weight off my shoulders it would be to not have to pretend? About anything anymore?” He takes a step forward. “To not live a life built so precariously on a foundational lie? I know you. You lead, I follow.” He takes the oliveblood by the shoulders.

“I love you Koko, you were right.”

Some of the tension starts to gradually, slowly fall from Koko’s shoulders. There is something off about these words, but they are comfortable, as easy to fall into as a feather bed.

“I stole your mail” He says, the last echoes of protest bouncing off the walls with a quiet death.

“Yeah, and you stole a Rembrandt from me 30 sweeps ago. What’s another double cross between a laundry list of them longer than Alternia’s circumference. It’s what we do. There are things more important to both of us than that.” He says, cupping the other man’s cheek.

Kokoro sighs, falling into his touch.

“What do you need from me?” Midas repeats. “What’s the plan?”

“The plan is fucked” Kokoro says. “If Gi walks. I need her numbers.”

“Then we’ll think of another one,” He says, wrapping his arms around the troll. “It’s so simple, Dushen’ka” He says, and Kokoro looks up at him, the oliveblood caught on every word, or maybe caught up in the warmth of his arms, the bigger trolls scratchy chin resting on his forehead. The ease of it all. It would be lovely for things to be simple, to be able to believe that, for even a moment.

“We kill Gihyun” Midas finishes. And Kokoro blinks, stiffening like a cold wind had just overtaken him, immediately and completely.

“We blame the fleet.” He continues, as if it were a list, as if it were reasonable, inevitable, rational. “All of her favorites- will want revenge so badly. They’ll hop right on board with us. We’ll be heroes to them.” He lists, running a hand through his hair.

The ever calculating, untrustful soul of Kokoro Kimura scrambles to whir up, to decide his next words.

No way on heaven or earth they would do such a thing. Not for a moment. Not as a hypothetical. Not as a bluff. Not if he was offered all the riches in the world- not if the fleet handed him Tes Roven on a silver platter, not if it was the only way to save ten drowning kittens. In no universe, in no world, in no solemn hidden corner of the galaxy, in no shady closet or open hallway or darkest corner in his mind. Would Kokoro Kimura kill Gihyun Yupark.

But he could not say that, could he?

This was moves and countermoves- it had to be. Midas must be testing his loyalty, his faith. If he failed, the purpleblood would probably go straight to the fleet. If he protested, the man might lash out. If he said no, he would have no power over Midas- he would have nothing but the tense bridge of love offered between them that could be retracted at any moment.

He would have to agree. He would have to agree, and then insist on taking the matter into his own hands, to buy him time, to keep Midas from doing it himself. But he must do it only after just enough protest that he finds it genuine. But not so much protest he was angered.

“There has to be another way,” He says slowly.

“Koko, she’s as good as killed you by not siding with you on this” Midas says. “She betrayed the gang- threatened to tear it apart. Would you accept this from any subordinate? Would you ever be able to trust her again? She doesn’t believe in you like I do.”

“Midas” He pleads. “It’s Gi.”

“Power like the kind you want,” he says, “does not come without a price. Is not maintained without ruthlessness. You know that.” He says. “I don’t like it anymore than you do. But there is no other way. She could be going to her staff right now. We don’t have time to hesitate.”

He is silent for an age. The weight of hours and days folded into the solemn contemplation of but a minute or two.

“Okay” He says. “I’ll do it.” He promises.

Midas releases his grip on him, lifting the man's hands in a picture of knighthood and loyalty.

“Have strength,” He says, kissing his knuckle. “I’ll see you on the other side, Koko.”

The oliveblood takes a deep breath.

And exits the room.

This was the last time they spoke to each other. I could not tell you which man was the better liar. Facades atop facades. Masks over masks. Treachery and loyalty and love and pain. They had perfected it, they expected it from each other. Words to them were not a vessel to truth as much as they were means to an end. Did Midas believe Kokoro? Did Kokoro believe Midas?

It doesn’t matter.

It is 300 sweeps ago. I would say it was the same night, but the hours have since passed barely into the next day’s morning. Kokoro bursts into Gihyuns door without knocking.

“Gi!” He yells.

“Here to talk me out of it?” She retorts, having cracked open the window in her office to smoke.

“Midas wants to kill you” he says.

“Is that a threat?” She retorts.

“Of course not!” He snaps.

“Gonna sound so offended?” She says. Taking a long drag.

“You think I’d kill you!” He accuses.

“Who’s to know, Koko?” she says. “Everybodies lost their minds. Everybody heard ‘GHB over Tes Roven’ and got dollar signs in their eyes so big they can’t process reality anymore. Who gives a fuck.”

“Did you even read my letter?” He retorts.

“I skimmed it,” She says. “Then I was so blinded by your stupidity I had to lay down for a second.”

“I’m not doing this for money.” He says, quietly. “I wanted to make a difference.”

“Then you should have kept your mouth shut,” Gihyun says.

“Easy for you to say,” he says.

“Soo…?” She says.

“Sooo…?” He echoes.

“All those bastards you pissed off are coming” She says. “What’re you waiting for?”

“I had to make sure you’re okay,” He says.

“Koko,” she says softly. “You’re an idiot.” She says. “He played you.”

Kokoro pauses, squinting up at her.

Gihyun closes the window, walking back over to her desk. She picks up a sealed letter, with Midas’s moon wax seal pressed onto the envelope.

“Your boyfriend already wrote back to the fleet.” She says.

“You fucking. Mail gremlin” Kokoro blurts out without thinking.

Gihyun blinks incredulously, affronted.

“Excuse me?” she retorts, tossing him the thing.

Kokoro opens it, parsing its contents.

“He said yes to their offer” she summarizes. “He probably only told you all that shit about killing me to distract you. And it worked.” She says, throwing up her arms.

“You have the letter,” He says. “It didn’t get sent.”

“The fleet’s coming anyway.” She replies. “He can just tell them in person.”

Kokoro begins to pace, as he had been earlier, erratically.

“The two of us could take him,” He says.

“The two of us?” She replies.

He pauses. “Yes, Gi, the two of us.” He says. “Whatever you feel about me you must know we’d be better at it than him.”

“Yeah.” She says.

“Things were better,” Kokoro says. “When he was just a figurehead.”

The jadeblood sighs. “He was my friend before he was yours. Yet…he’s clearly made his choice” She says, gesturing at the letter once more. “I hate to say I prefer anyone as a puppet. But yeah, we might have fucked up giving him access to unconditional power and acclaim. Went straight to his head. Now he’s trying all the sneaky, backhanded shit he learned from you.”

“From you too.”

“From both of us,” She says. “He put my life on the table,” Gihyun recalls. “That was too far.”

“It was a bluff.” Kokoro defends.

“You believed him without question,” she retorts. “You did not hesitate for a second to run here. You cannot tell me you trust the man.

“No further than I trust you” he retorts.

Something like hurt flashes across the woman's face, but it’s gone in an instant.

“Liar,” Gihyun says.

“This is not…” He sighs. “This is just- part of the game. He fucked us over, fine. But is that the last line in the sand? How come he’s irredeemable and we’re not? Have we not killed? Have we not betrayed? Have we not fucked each other in desperate, personal ways.”

“I thought you were meant to be making the case” She says. “To team up against him”

“I am,” He says. “But not to kill him.”

“I see,” She says.

He sighs in answer. “So you’re in?”

She stares. “So what, then, joint leadership until the next time you decide to fuck me over?”

“That's the business” He says.

“I’m sick,” She says. “Of the fucking business.” She narrates, as he continues to pace. “How many centuries- two hundred sweeps- have the three of us been trading double crosses and lies and fucking each other over over and over again.” She throws up her hands.

“Then leave” He hisses. “But let me keep your crew.”

“You really think this,” Gihyun gestures, “Is what love is supposed to look like?”

He stops, again, his back to the woman.

“That’s besides the point.” He stutters. “You’ve fucked me over” He retorts. “Just as many times- if not more- than I’ve done to you.”

“So what?” She stutters. “I’m not allowed to say this is awful?”

“You started this” He retorts.

“I what?” She replies.

“You think I haven’t been keeping track?” He replies.

“Of the ongoing, endless game of treachery all three of us have been engaged in since we were what, s-”

“Seven” Kokoro retorts. “When we were seven you two fucked me over on that pocketwatch scam.”

She stares at him for a long, long time. “SO?” She says. “That’s your- justification??? That’s your moral highground??? Decades of this bullshit because what?? Me and Midas played a mean prank on you when we were teenagers that barely would have cost you 20 caegars? Are you fucking kidding me?” She says, stepping forward, looming over the smaller troll.

He seems not sure how to respond to this. Wrapping his arms around himself.

“This is not about moral highground.” He says. “There is none.”

“What is it about?” She says, sitting down, putting out her cigarette on an ashtray. “Suffering the most?”

He closes his eyes.

“You deserve better,” She gestures. “Than a life of constantly looking over your shoulder. I deserve better. We both do.”

Kokoro does not know what to do, unsteady and uncomfortable with this sudden and complete vulnerability. As fragile and untrustworthy to him as it had been when it came from Midas’s mouth. Gihyun stares at him, for a long moment before she begins to understand he never intends to look him in the eyes. So she stops offering that piercing gaze, her eyes turning to the window.

“I’ve been thinking about going to college,” she says.

“What?” He says.

“Don’t laugh.” She warns. “I know I'm two hundred.”

“What would you- what would you study?” He says, still uneasy, but this road of conversation is easier to him than grand declarations of who deserves what.

“I have no idea” She laughs. “I just remember. When we were kids. Mugging people on street corners. Talking about all the shit we would do once we pulled off one, huge, enormous job that would set us for life. Talking about what we wanted to do with our lives. When all this'' she gestures grandly at the walls of their casino on the top of the hill.

“Was just fantasy and signs scribbled on old notebook paper and scraps. I remember you said you wanted to go to college. I forget what I said.” She says. “We’re rich now. But we never did all that shit.”

“How will you- have the time, with the gang” he says.

“Don’t you get it, Koko?” She says, not yet looking back at him. “When I said I’m done, I’m done.”

He is silent in answer. Some part of his brain was still protesting that this was a play.

“So it’s just over?” He says. “We’re over?”

“What were we to begin with, Koko? Me, you and Midas barely act like we even like each other.”

“I made this place,” he says. “From the ground up. Can you just say this once” He stumbles. “That this isn’t fair?”

She stares at him. “This isn’t fair,” she says, quietly. “Of course it should have been you. In any just, reasonable world, it should have been you, it should have been you from the start. Me and Midas all we ever had was brutality, but you, were the beating heart of all of this. And without you Tes Roven never even would have existed at all.”

“So I just have to stay here” he says, trying to keep the waver from his voice. “And sort out this mess?”

She opens her mouth to remind him he made this mess in the first place, but stops herself. It was probably bound to happen, one way or the other, it won’t help her case.

“That’s up to you.” She says, instead.

He finally meets her gaze. “What do you mean?” He says softly.

She steps forward and takes his hands in hers, in a sudden and complete show of the desperation she had been scared to voice. “Come with me” she pleads. “Don’t you think being moirails could be more than just a game to us?”

Kokoro stares, dumbfounded. Even the echoes of violent paranoia within him unable to conceive how them both leaving the mafia could be some sort of mind game. Such an open show of affection is not as easy for them as it would someday come to be. He is taken completely aback. Against his will, against every tyrannically oppressive and restrained bone in his body. Tears begin to fill his eyes.

“Why would you wait till I’m about to die?” he chokes. “To say such a thing to me?”

“I thought you weren’t going to die,” she replies.

“I wasn’t.” He stutters, attempting to compose himself, glancing away. “I’m not.”

“You want me to be honest, Koko?” She says. “I believe you could do it. I believe whatever insane, mindfucky game you had in mind when you sent that letter could work. I know you wanted them to count on an assumption of your stupidity. I know somewhere in my heart that you just might have scraped by the skin of your teeth into some position of power” She says. “But this isn’t a battle you just have to win once.”

“If you help any kind of real power- attached to your real face- your real name- there would be a target on your back that could never be washed off. They’d never stop coming for you. They’d never stop assuming your weakness and hating your ambition. You wouldn’t have to win a once in a lifetime battle once. You’d have to do it a thousand times. You would have to do it every single day for the rest of your life. And I know you. And I can’t imagine you doing that without giving more of yourself than it's ever healthy to give.”

“This isn’t about me,” he says, staring at the floor.

“It isn’t?”

“I have a duty,” he says, gesturing to the window. “To these people.”

“You have a duty to yourself!” She snaps. “You have a duty to the people who care about you!”

“This is bigger than one troll,” he retorts.

“Why do YOU SPECIFICALLY have to save Alternia, Koko!! Why is that YOUR burden?”

“I can’t stand it,” He says. “The world being the way it is.”

“Well, that’s not your fault” She retorts.

He closes his eyes. Gripping Gihyuns hands around his like a lifeline. He takes a deep breath, one that fills corners of his body and mind he didn’t even know we’re empty.

“Fine,” He says. “What about Midas?” he says. “What about the fleet coming to kill me?”

“You’re the genius, Kokoro. We still have four or so hours. Think of a way out.” She pleads.

The oliveblood stares up at the ceiling, blinking. Slowly, he begins to pace, back and forth, the gears of his mind whirring up again. He walks back and forth for a long time. The few hours they have left stretching out before him in between footsteps. Trying to put it all together. Trying to find his play. He could make it all fit together- somehow, someway. But every chess player knows most victories must come with sacrifices. Try as he might, he can no longer imagine coming away with everything he intended when he started this fight. Fleeting fantasies of convincing Midas of the same thing Gihyun had just convinced him here, enter his mind.

Would he even listen, at this point? And what about the city? Could he truly just leave him here- without warning or explanation. To rule without knowing the weight of such a duty. But he is still embittered by that one final betrayal the purpleblood had placed on his doorstep. Flashes of anger and emotion infecting his train of thought, invisibly and dangerously. He is young. He is prideful. He can’t stand not being the last to speak in an argument, to leave it on the opponents note. He’s trying to be a better man, isn’t he? That’s his prize at the end of it all, that’s the future that carries him forward. Glimmers of it slip through his thoughts but the vision is hazy- he doesn’t yet know this theoretical man of tomorrow. He could not act on his wishes- his vices, before he even discovered him. He can only come down and stare at the gloved, reliable, slippy and treacherous hands of the troll Kokoro Kimura is-

Right now.

So he pieces together one last double cross. The deception inherent in it folding beautifully under his mind's touch. He has it- he has a way everybody ‘wins’. His body stumbles. The shining ideal of a life without carrying a city on his back glittering to him like a mirage. He stops, abruptly and suddenly.

“We have to let him have it,” he says slowly. “He wants Tes Roven- he has to have it” He says, gripping Gi by the shoulders. “And we run and we run and we never look back” he promises.

Five months ago, Sunset watches the sunrise on Alternia through a filtered, grayed and blue tinted haze. The balconies of Rollyn’s mansion had UV roofs that could be lowered. A new architectural trend amongst rich Alternians that can afford it. They came down and clicked into the fence that surrounded the small area when the sun rose. Trace amounts of real sunlight poked through vents at the top of the thing that let in fresh air. They left soft yellow rectangular lines across the room, like sun peeking through a storm, or the leaves of a tree, dappled and gentle. It was good for plants- They had placed a variety of succulents that filled the air with the pleasant scent of greenery.

It was peaceful. Lovely, even. But something was still missing. How could one truly see or understand the beauty of sunrise through thick layers of glass. Washed out by the UV blockers, his impression of the day is blank and soulless, the warmth and fire and richness of color in it trapped just a few feet away. Inside the room, he hears the soft sound of the rustling of stuffed animals, a small pair of slippers being slipped into by a bedside. Footsteps making their way across the floor, as soft and practiced as a dancers.

“Go back to bed,” He says.

“What are you doing?” Rollyn retorts, in the balcony’s doorway, resting a hand on her hip, her other holding close a giant frog plushie. The troll's hair is still held loosely in a bunch of curlers. Her eyes squinty and blinking in the light.

“I can’t sleep,” He says. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t either.”

“Come back to bed.” She says.

“There’s no point,” He replies. “I already know I won’t be able to get back to sleep now that I’ve awoken.”

“I have a melatonin,” She offers, walking up next to him, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“They make me groggy,” He says.

“Come take a bath with me, it’ll calm you down.” They try, one more time.

“Rollyn.” He says, simply.

The cerulean pauses, staring into the man's soft eyes, so often clouded over with restraint and pain, as if his face was a sieve he only let some things slip through. The rest caught and kept and looked over in dark corners of painful memories in a careful process of dissection. She pauses, taking his hand.

“I’ll stay up with you.” She says.

“You have work tomorrow,” He replies.

“So do you.” She says.

He sighs, his hand going to his face and rubbing his eyes. He squeezes his other hand in her own.

“What’s wrong?” Rollyn says, resting their head on his shoulder, watching the sun continue to rise.

He thinks on this, still staring forward into the light. When he speaks, he speaks as he always does, in riddles, in half truths, in vague, overarching concepts that most can find no specifics within. He would not give you a piece of his heart without a backdoor of deniability.

“You ever feel like your life is a path that's already set out in front of you,” He says. “That there's no way to sway from. Every turn you try to take loops around and back to here. All roads lead to here. Any choice I ever could have made wouldn’t have changed the person I am now. It’s driven by some greater course that I can’t comprehend. That I am scared to even consider”

“It’s a little early for philosophy,” She says. “Are you talking about g-d?” They pause. “I think you chose to be here Sunset. I don’t think anything is set in stone.”

“Does a bird choose to fly?” He says. “Or is born with a set of wings and the dream of the sky in its pocket.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in fate” She says, lifting her stuffed animal from slipping out of her grip. “You’re the only Rovenian I know who doesn’t toss coins at those little Kokoro shrines.”

“I don’t believe in that kind of fate” He says.

She exhales, laughing. “I didn’t know there were different kinds,” She says. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes,” He says.

“Then what kind of fate do you believe in?” They challenge. “Explain it to me.”

He inhales, resting his head on hers.

“The merciless kind” He says.

“Well” She sighs, watching his eyes deepen, pulled away by the distant horizon. She turns her head up towards his neck. “Kind of takes all the fun out of it, doesn’t it? That’s the saddest way to look at it.”

“Fate was supposed to be fun?” He laughs, lifting his head, caught off guard by her dismissal.

“Yes,” They say, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “It's a prankster. It’s a silly little animal that can’t be caged or caught, like the roadrunner in looney tunes. Dancing around gunshots and delivering karma. The prideful spend a lifetime running after it only to realize they’ve walked right off a cliff. You be careful chasing that thing," she says.

“Or one day you’ll look down and see there's nothing beneath your feet.”

#SIGHSSSDSSSS #do you get it #do you understand #>-)o #my writing #kokoro writing #fantroll #fantroll rp #homestuck #homestuck oc #hiveswap #friendsim #pesterquest

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therealbattleangel · 2 years

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Count Bezukhov - Pierre Bezukhov x F!Reader

TW: Bad writing XD I didn’t proofread this story as it is way too late and I just wanted to post something today so I hope you like it.

(Requests Open !)

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It is crazy how a person’s life can change so much with just one thing. One event can completely upend everything that someone once knew. And, in this moment, nobody could understand this more than Pierre who, thanks to his father’s passing, has now acquired his entire fortune, including his vast estate. Pierre had grown up living on his own, for the most part. He was an illegitimate son who was treated as much for his entire life. So the fact that Pierre was now a Count… He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want it.

After a long carriage ride, Pierre arrived at the elegant front doors of his new estate. As he walked in, he was greeted by a few workers that “came with the estate,” or at least that’s how his father put it in his will. There was a butler, a cook, a gardener, and one maid. One young, beautiful, bright maid. Pierre suddenly felt himself heating up at the sight of her. One by one, each of the workers introduced himself. Normally, Pierre would have been focused and would have at least tried to internalize the many names being thrown at him but, in this moment, only one name mattered. When it was the maid’s turn to speak, Pierre looked deeply into her eyes as she said her name. “I am Y/N Y/L/N. I will be your personal maid. I will be sure to keep everything in the house clean” she said as she bowed her head to Pierre who returned the bow. Y/N. A beautiful name to match this beautiful woman in front of him. Y/N blushed deeper for every second that Pierre’s focus stayed on her.

“Um, Count Bezukhov?” he heard a voice say, breaking him out of his strange trance. “Ah, yes, sorry. Um, where exactly are the bed chambers? I am quite tired after this… Long day” Pierre said to the owner of the voice he heard who happened to be the butler. “Of course, Count Bezukhov. Y/N, show him the way. And be sure to answer any of his questions he has.” Pierre couldn’t believe his luck. Y/N bowed her head before she turned to face Pierre “Count Bezukhov, please follow me” she said. She then began walking up the stairs as everyone went back to their stations. “Ah, just call me Pierre. This whole Count thing is a… A bit much right now.” Y/N tilted her head at Pierre before humming “of course, P-pierre… Are you sure? It feels so improper of me, a lowly maid, to refer to you by first name. Is that not too casual?” Pierre softly smiled at the stuttering woman in front of him “I am fine with you calling me Pierre. Actually, that will be my first rule. You must call me Pierre… Unless it truly makes you uncomfortable, which, at that point, you can call me whatever you want.” Y/N slowly nodded once more as she continued leading them around the maze that was the estate.

“So, how long have you worked here, Y/N?” Pierre asked. “Oh, I um… Have been working for about nine months now so I didn’t get to really know your father before he passed. I am very sorry for your loss, Pierre.” Pierre simply shook his head “Oh don’t be. I hardly knew him myself. Honestly, you probably got to know him more in those nine months than I ever did” he said in a dismissive tone. Y/N hummed “I can tell” she said which caused Pierre to tilt his head at her. “Oh? Is it that obvious?” He asked her. She then shook her head “no, no, I… I didn’t mean to sound like I am insulting you. It’s mainly that… You are already so different to him. You are much more relaxed with us servants than he ever was. He never even learned any of our names. He only ever referred to us by our job title. So I was maid.”

Pierre slowly frowned as he looked at Y/N. This beautiful woman was being treated like some form of pet by the man he once called his father. How could he ever? She seemed so sweet, looked so heavenly, and had the voice of an angel. “Well, my father was a foolish man. Just because you work for me does not mean you deserve to be treated worse than the dirt under my foot. He so desperately wanted to be the one in power that he would throw anyone under the bus that he needed to. You, Y/N, so far seem like a simply wonderful woman. I cannot wait to get to know you better.” Y/N slowly blushed once more which led to Pierre also blushing. Here were two socially awkward people, trying to communicate without getting flustered by every little comment or gesture the other gave them. They were obviously failing at it.

Eventually, they arrived at Pierre's new bedroom. Everything in the room had been freshly cleaned. Everything from the antique wardrobe to the comically large bed with freshly fluffed pillows. Y/N walked over to a candle before lighting it and setting it on the side table for Pierre to use if he needed “alright, Pierre. This is your new room. This door leads to the closet, this door is the bathroom, the rest is rather self explanatory. Is there anything else I can do for you?” Y/N said. Pierre then slowly shook his head “No thank you, dear. You have explained everything perfectly. Now I should get some sleep.” Y/N nodded before she began to walk out of the room “oh, Y/N?” Pierre called out. “Yes, Pierre?” Y/N asked, turning back to face Pierre once more. “Have a good night. And I’ll see you in the morning.” Y/N smiled before saying “you too, Pierre. See you tomorrow.” She then walked out of the room, closing the doors behind her. Once out of the room, both Pierre and Y/N smiled to themselves before blushing at the thought of what the future could hold for them both. Maybe this wasn’t all bad.

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! I came up with this idea a day or two ago and I couldn’t get it out of my head. I will admit I don’t know much about Pierre so if it doesn’t seem like him, I apologize.

#paul dano #paul dano fanfic #paul dano imagines #paul dano x reader #dano nation #pierre bezukhov #pierre bezukhov x reader #war and peace

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littlefreya · 3 years

Text

Velvet Chains

Summary: For a generous fee, August Walker is yours. A man devout to pleasure, who will worship you for an entire night and make sure your first time is more than memorable.

Promot:

A thought - August as a gigolo who specializes in deflowering. 👌

Pairing: Soft! August Walker x Virgin Reader.

Word count: 1.6K

Warnings: 18+. August Walker as a sex-worker, sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, a depiction of bodily fluids, soft!August themes, a tinge of angst and August’s monster c...

A/N: When I received this prompt, I didn’t think I can actually do it justice, but it was 3am and I started dabbling around. Then in the morning, I took another look at it, and this little drabble turned into a one-shot. I hope you’ll like it, I hope I did well. Many thanks to @agniavateira my muse who beta’d my story.

Please give feedback and reblog if you enjoyed reading. 🖤 DM if you want to be added to my tag squad.

Title: Velvet Chains

They were all little flowers to him, fresh peonies and flushed roses. Young or mature, it never mattered as long as they were still oh so pure. Undefiled, succulent flesh. Kissed by dew and wrapped by the last remaining petals of their innocence.

All for him to willfully pluck.

Sprayed with notes of tobacco, and boozy fragrance of rum - August Walker was the top-tier kind of service, a man to die for with his three-piece suits and shiny leather shoes. At one point he didn’t even need to self-promote; they came to him, all doe-eyed and coy, willing to pay as much as it takes to have him breach through the sealed gates of their garden.

The rules were quite simple: Cash in advance and always wear protection; other than that anything goes. August liked to see himself as a procurer of fantasies rather than a male prostitute. For a generous fee of $1500, his girls earned themselves a night they never forgot. Whether it began with a dinner at the most outrageous restaurant, a masked ball at a billionaire’s mansion, or an intimate evening with his homemade cooking at a cosy sublet.

It was up to him to choose the experience for the ladies after thoroughly assessing and profiling each client. He was never wrong; after all, it was his job to study women, both mentally and physically.

“I know what you need,” he would murmur as he kissed down their navel and swept between their shaky thighs. And in his grip they indeed laughed, cried, and came undone so many times over, reaching out to grasp heaven around his unapologetically huge cock.

Until you changed everything.

August couldn’t quite crack you; while he enjoyed, savoured, and conquered every woman he had, it was you who seemed to have more power over him than he did over you. The quiet abyss in your eyes reeled him in like an unfortunate, foolish fish teetering on a hook. Whatever mysteries that mind of yours held, he wanted to pry it open with his fingers and brush them through the parchments of your soul.

He desired you more than just the flesh; he wanted to be deeper in you than he ever was in any other woman.

‘Who are you?’

Shivering in his presence, it was crystal clear that you weren’t immune to his spells; yet you didn’t seem impressed by the theatrics or his suave appearance. As if you saw right through him, and knew it was all but a spectacle.

Wanting everyone to witness your ‘claiming’, he took you to the dimly-lit roof of his private apartment and laid you on a blanket beneath the beaming stars. When his lips touched yours while slowly ridding himself of his clothes, August felt like he could tell you his most kept secrets though he didn’t want to.

This is not how it worked. Not for him.

Sorrounded by the fairy tea-lights that adorned the intimate rooftope, you flinched as he began undressing you, and trembled so vehemently once completely bare that all he wanted was to embrace you in his big arms. And he did so, collecting you against the dark fur of his chest, the heat of his body provided shelter from the cold October breeze.

“Beautiful,” he whispered sincerely and allowed his hands to roam the tender map of your body. Likely, he would never see you again, so he wanted to remember every curve, dimple, and scar; he needed your moans imprinted in the museum of his mind.

The same desperate, breathless pleas only a virgin would make, purer than pure.

Breathing in shudders, you laid down beneath him with your legs spread out. Your little untouched slit displayed to his hungering gaze, asking to be reshaped by his intrustment. August was never one to lose control, but your entire existence has made him question every decision and in a moment of frivolousity, he lost himself completely and broke the most forbidden rule:

He entered you bare.

Painfully large and hot as flaming iron, his rigid cock tore through your maidenhood and delved into your velvety pit, desperately searching for the engulfing shelter that was your womb. Weeps of pain rained down your lips; he was too big, and he didn’t slow down. He unwrapped you, tearing your rose petals one by one, sinking in until you could have sworn he was infused between your lungs.

Overwhelmed by the raw sensation of your wet flesh engulfing him, August raked his arm around the small of your back and held your body against his, forcing you to spread wider, to grant him the infinite access he demanded.

“Look at me kitten,” he murmured in a half-breathless, half-soothing voice and showered hasty butterfly kisses across your forehead, “I’m inside you. It’s done, now let me please you.”

He seared your body, your sensitive entrance pulsating with a twinge of grieving anger around his veiny cock, your walls squeezing, fighting off his lewd intrusion. While you anticipated the pain, the initial shock was too much to bear.

“I don’t think I can take you,” you retorted and swallowed hard, trying not to cry as he swelled and flinched inside you further more.

August reached a hand to your jaw and caged it between his strong fingers. Not saying a word, he stared intensely into your eyes. Smoke and broken mirrors shadowed his glare. In your daze, you swore you could see his reveries and hear him whisper without moving his lips.

The barriers of your guarded castle were in ruins, and so was your self-preservation. Fully submitting, you allowed him to take you beneath the shimmering, black silks of midnight.

August was both gentle and rough as he rode between your thighs, his heavy body surrounding you completely. His entity seeped through your lungs and pores, his bewhiskered mouth left sloppy, ticklish kisses and chanted a hymn of pleasure against your neck.

For a slight moment, you wondered if he was this passionate with all of his customers. But all thoughts died at the moment his crown slammed into the wall of your womb, and the entirety of your existence was flooded with both the tremors of sudden pleasure and satisfying pain.

You wanted more, you wanted to be complete. To be completely his.

“Oh god, yes!” You cried for him, clawing your nails at the taut muscles of his back.

Grunting, he plunged into you, harder with every pull and deeper with every thrust. He sought for heaven between your legs and as inexperienced and naive as you were, you followed your instincts and complied to his arousal. Bucking your hips, you yielded to meet the jerk of his hips - your rhythm a savage mess, your demeanour that of a virgin-whore.

“Good girl, my good girl,” August praised, thrilled of the shift in you, and by the helpless, glossy gaze and gaping mouth as you moaned and begged. Your freshly open cunt clung to his invasion with its growing tightness. Holding onto him the way the moon is bound to earth.

Control was gradually lost over your own bodies, enslaved to something stronger than your wills and wits. It was as if you became vessels to haunting spirits that made you slam into one another, lost in a sweaty, carnal trance until a flush of sudden rapture broke between your legs the way raging waves break upon a ship lost at sea, consuming it completely.

Like a dauntless sailor, August followed you into the depths of euphoria. Jumping to his knees, he hauled you by the waist and slammed you against him, needing to be balls-deep within you. With a loud shout, he came undone, astonished by the raw, unbridled sensation of releasing himself inside another person.

You both shuddered in shock as his thick cum bathed your womb in three, warm gushes.

‘Oh, August, what have you done?’

Spent, he nearly collapsed on top of you, holding his hands flat to the side of your head. He took a deep breath before pulling out from your hurting hole and moving to lie by your side. The pink mixture of your essence trickled between your simmering lips just the way it coated his still-swollen cock. Glancing down upon it he felt an odd notion of triumph, more than the usual complacent feeling usually evoked with his clientele.

“Don’t worry, I am clean.” He promised.

In a way, you were his first as well.

Pulling you against him, he nuzzled your neck and hummed lowly, “I don’t imagine you could give me anything.”

Still trying to land back on solid ground, you said nothing. Words didn’t make it, not through your chest nor your head. You basked within the moment, trying to memorise every vibration that flowed through your veins as the glow became dimmer with every passing minute.

Limbs entangled, he decorated your shoulder-blade with honey-sweet kisses while your spine attached to his hairy chest. He watched you quietly, admiring you completely until the two of you fell into a dreamless sleep under the guarding sky.

Come morning, August was awakened by the sounds of the raging street below. The scent of toxic vapours hung heavy in the air and his face curled at the sounds of the beeping horns. For a moment, he forgot where he was but then you were the first thing on his mind. Even though he knew the deal was for one night only, something in him itched for a generous ‘on-the-house’ lazy morning sex.

As he rolled to lie on top of you, his chest felt abruptly empty. He was met with nothing but the defiled blanket.

You were gone.

Though the scent of your body, your sweat, and viscous fluids were still stuck to his skin, your memory a sheer piece of silk carried away by the cruel wind. The weight of a thousand stones dropped in August’s gut and he flipped onto his back once more and stared at the cloudy sky.

It resonated in him that this was all that it was, and he would never find a girl like you again.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

*I don’t own August Walker or the Mission: Impossible Franchise

#henry cavill #august walker #august walker x reader #henry cavill x reader #august walker fanfiction

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

snake | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Your parents have no qualms on doing whatever they can to climb the social ladder. That includes assigning you a betrothed you've never met, an offering to the crown prince. You, the one the gossipers whisper under their breath... the Snake Princess.

warnings: implied parental emotional and physical abuse; language; non-idol!AU - prince!Yoongi x aristocrat!reader, ft overprotective (but secretly soft), tattooed, little brother!JK; based on this

–

“I don’t care what our father said, you’re not marrying him!”

You scratched your ear, partly shielding it from the loud voice of your brother.

“He’s an asshole!”

“You don’t know him?” you offered, affixing your earring, somewhat annoyed. The yellow gold wasn’t quite your style. Your parents liked such gaudy, ugly things.

Both in fashion and tradition, unfortunately.

“Do you?” your brother shot back, throwing himself up from your bed where he was yelling at the ceiling about nothing he could change. It was a favorite past time of his, along with following you around like a talkative shadow.

“No, that’s why I’m meeting him today,” you replied dryly. You switched to the other ear, adding the dragon-shaped ear cuff above the gold earring. Your parents hated it when you added such aggressive accessories – they’re not womanly, they would say – but if you were going to be betrothed to some guy on the sole basis that they had ambitions and he was the man who so happened to be the next-in-line for the throne, you weren’t going to lie about what kind of woman you were.

“Aren’t you pissed?”

You shrugged. “Is it so bad?”

“Yes!”

You sighed and flickered your eyes to the mirror, seeing Jeon Jungkook’s furious expression, long black hair tied back with lingering strands framing his high cheekbones, his black and gold robes wild, poorly tied and revealing half of his tanned, toned chest. His dark brown eyes flashed, pressing his cherry-painted lips together, jawline sharp and defiant. That’s how Jungkook always looked, messy, undone, borderline furious.

Everyone called him the Reckless Prince.

You just called him little brother.

“Noona…”

“Hmm?”

You saw him frown and you looked away, running a hand through your hair, browsing your hair accessories. You used to have an aide to help you at one point, but you told your parents to get rid of them, preferring to get ready by yourself. And besides, Jungkook liked to burst in and interrupt you with his relentless tirades about how unfair your arranged marriage was. There was no point in having hired help when you could coerce your brother into doing things as you put up with him.

“Can I brush your hair?”

“You have arms and hands, so you’re physically capable, yes.”

You heard him click his tongue in annoyance and smirked, shifting your eyes to the mirror. He was behind you now, face no longer visible. It didn’t matter. You already knew his cross expression quite well. He snatched the ornate comb from your vanity, the black snake head clearly visible on the side of his right wrist, inked near his thumb. Your parents scolded and beat him for getting it, but Jungkook could care less, breaking the wooden paddle with ease, right out of your mother’s hand.

You hadn’t said anything.

The rumors called you the Snake Princess.

Quick-witted, sharp, vicious. Not to your face though, because that was just foolishness. It wouldn’t be only your wrath they would be evoking.

Jungkook ran the comb through your hair, gently separating the strands, careful not to pull too hard. He was better than any aide anyway. They merely yanked and pulled you into their standard of beauty, ignoring your opinions or input, always citing that it was important to not look like a peasant, important to always look above your status, using your beauty to save face.

Saving face.

You hated those words.

“What if he’s a horrible person?” your brother asked quietly, tucking the strands away from your eyes only for them to slip back stubbornly.

“Then he’s a horrible person,” you replied, applying your makeup. “And you’ll probably do something about it.”

Jungkook made a noise between an aggravated bear and an injured tiger.

“If he so much as puts one fingertip on you, I’ll kill him.”

You snorted. “I’d hate to tell you what marriage entails, Jungkook.”

The comb in your hair paused.

His anger subsided, just like that.

“You’re really going to do it?” he asked softly. “Really, really?”

You heard the pain in Jungkook’s voice.

You recalled when you received the news many years ago, silent fury as your parents gave you away, turning you into a transaction to raise their own reputation and status. Your reaction was nothing to your little brother’s, him running to your room and crying in your arms, distraught and upset that you were leaving him, declaring he hated your parents, everyone, and everything.

“You’re supposed to protect me,” Jungkook had sobbed, already too big for you to hold like this but you did anyway, patting his head and wiping his tears with your sleeve. “You’re supposed to be here, with me, forever and always.”

He had taken your hand, tucking his fingers in yours, pressing your pinkies together.

“You promised me.”

And you had, from the very beginning, the shy kid always following after you and making you speak for him, your parents yelling and scolding him to be a man, but you defending him, taking the slaps meant for him, sneaking him sweets when he was hiding his tears, telling him it was okay to cry and that noona would stay here and listen to his worries, no matter if it was as stupid as a butterfly flying away or the teacher once again reprimanding him for his poor scores.

The amount of pressure they put on him just because he was the son was immense.

“I wanna play,” he had cried softly. “I don’t have to study anymore.”

“You want to be stupid?” you had teased, patting his head. “What if I had my lessons with you? I can make that happen.”

“R-Really?”

So, you made it happen, telling your parents and tutors that it would be better for him to be exposed to more complex concepts earlier rather than later and watching someone learn would improve his own scores. You made yourself a better student for his benefit and he, in turn, followed obediently, doing what you did, always overjoyed to hear your praise.

You and your snake tongue could made anything happen for him.

“This servant is bothering me.”

You found some questionable information on that servant and they resigned rather quickly.

“I don’t like the girl our father introduced me to.”

Suddenly said girl was no longer interested in Jungkook. For… reasons.

“I wish I could go on vacation, even for a couple days.”

That one got you both beaten for your three-day adventure to the sea, mostly because you had to run away from your duties to do it. But it was worth it to see the smile on Jungkook’s face.

Then Jungkook became a teenager.

You might have taught him that rules were for old people, for the generation too uptight.

He wanted to do a whole lot of things and you made it happen. Getting him out of those sticky situations was a bit tough, but nothing unmanageable. And now Jungkook was a young adult who did not care about anyone’s opinion other than yours, getting tattooed and spending all of his time with his friends, lackadaisical and free, your parents giving up and calling him a disgrace, relying on your marriage to restore the reputation they valued so much, the face they themselves ruined with their own poor decisions, taking out their frustrations on you and Jungkook, sometimes without warning.

You stayed home, playing good daughter so Jungkook could be the bad son.

Ah, maybe it was your fault he was the Reckless Prince.

You turned, looking up at him now from the corner of your eye, up his loose robes and exposed collarbone, up the line of his jaw that was similar to yours, his lips not quite as full, his round brown orbs that were actually much more innocent and purer than he liked to admit, similar to your eye shape.

But not the same.

Because your eyes were sharper, cold-blooded, predatory.

Even with Jungkook, there was no mistaking the power behind your gaze.

“Do you think just because I’m married to some man that he can control my life?” you said with a sly smile, your lips painted lush red. “I’ll come visit you whenever I want. You can come whenever you want. You can live with me if you want.”

You turned back, sweeping your hair and twisting it in place, deftly and quickly pinning it back, leaving some strands loose and messy that your parents would highly disapprove of, but why did that matter? If this man was to be your husband, then he would see you completely undone at one point, so he should get used to it.

Your parents wouldn’t approve of the black and dark green combination you had chosen either, but that’s why you learned how to sew to dress yourself as you liked. You have to be a lady. You were a lady. Just your version of a lady and not theirs. They tried to gatekeep you by saying that the pink and yellow fabrics were all they could afford. They had a tendency to underestimate your craftiness.

No obstacle was too high for the Snake Princess to slither over.

“Really?” Jungkook asked as you stood up, smoothly adjusting the tie at your waist.

You chuckled at him as he began to follow you out of your bedroom.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll do it for you.”

“You brought your brother.”

“I don’t bring him anywhere. He comes and goes as he pleases.”

Jungkook was sitting behind you, arms crossed, glaring at the dark-haired man sitting in front of you. You had mildly fixed his appearance before entering only from him to push up his sleeves so he could reveal the entire snake tattoo wrapped around his arm, a black snake surrounded by thorned vines.

“Hmm.”

This man had requested to meet you first, alone, without the parents. Untraditional, but as long as his father agreed to the request, it was done. Your father had no say in the matter, although he did protest rather loudly and uncouthly.

You had poured the tea for your future husband and you.

Neither of you were drinking it.

The man before you had a piercing gaze, cloud-white skin, shapely lips. Somehow, he surprised you by being dressed in black and gold as well, although he was much neater than Jungkook, black hair tied back in a the usual, curated traditional style.

“I intend in marrying you, you know.”

He had a deep, rough voice, reminding you of dead leaves and winter.

“Is that not the point of this meeting?” was your dry response.

A dark eyebrow lifted.

Jungkook clicked his tongue dismissively.

Those shapely lips curved into a slow smirk.

“I thought I wouldn’t like you,” the dark-haired man mused, reaching over to the teacup and pulling it to him. “I was fully prepared to refuse this proposal and put your family more in the dirt than your brother has already put them into.”

“You bas–” Jungkook hissed, but you held up a hand, cutting him off.

You kept your eyes on those dark brown orbs, cat-like and predatory. He took a deep inhale of the aroma of the tea, letting out a satisfied, smokey sigh.

“I thought you would be like the others. Prim, proper, begging for me to take your hand.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do I need to beg for? You either will or you won’t. It has nothing to do with me.”

A dark chuckle. “Indeed.”

He took a long sip of the tea, savoring it. You watched him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing, tongue flickering out to lick his lips. Slowly lowering his head, scrutinizing gaze on you. He made you wait for his words.

“And besides, snakes can’t kneel, can they, Snake Princess?” he purred.

“Don’t you dare call her that!”

“No, they cannot,” you replied calmly, ignoring Jungkook’s outburst, staring into the eyes of the man who was going to decide whether or not you were going to be his wife.

“They can’t pray either.”

The dark-haired man tilted his head, intrigued.

“I have no need for gods to be able to live the life I want, Min Yoongi,” you said quietly, venomous edge to your voice. “The ties you put on me cannot restrain me from living as frivolously or ambitiously as I like.”

Min Yoongi, the man who would decide whether you would live an honorable or disgraceful life, the man who was next-in-line, the crown prince. You were meant to be his, but, unlike you, he was free to refuse. Unlike you, he had nothing to lose. Unlike you, he could destroy your life in a heartbeat with a simple no.

“You believe that?” Yoongi questioned, daring you.

You didn’t back down, small serpentine smile on your lips.

“I do not need to believe when I know.”

Silence.

Then Yoongi’s shoulders shook, raspy laughing bubbling from his throat, smirk on his lips.

“You want me to refuse. You want to ruin your parents’ lives.”

You didn’t say anything, your smile fading.

“Ah, but the problem is, I really do like you, Snake Princess,” Yoongi hummed. “You sharp tongue and you even sharper mind. A simpler man would have been tricked by you.” He tapped his long fingers against the table, keeping his feline poise directed at you. “I did not want some placid, useless little thing but a real woman, someone who isn’t afraid to say what she thinks. Why have a trophy when you can have a weapon?”

He placed his chin on the back of his other hand, clicking his tongue thoughtfully.

“What shall we do then? You absolutely must be my wife.”

“You–” Jungkook hissed, rising up behind you, glaring at Yoongi over your shoulder. “You know she doesn’t want to marry you and yet you’re going to do it anyway?”

The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow. “She doesn’t want to marry me because she wants her parents to pay for using her so carelessly to further their status. However,” he added with a sweep of his hand on the table, palm upward towards you. “Has she actually said she has no interest in me as a person? During this entire meeting, has she declared that I, the crown prince, am not to her liking?”

Yoongi gave Jungkook a sharp look.

“Do you think she would hide her disdain for me if she had some?”

Silence.

“N… Noona?”

“Yes, Jungkook?”

“You don’t like him at all… right?”

Silence.

You let out a deep breath, slow and controlled.

“Hmm, you are very intuitive.”

Yoongi grinned. “You know we would be a good match, you and I. Here,” he murmured, pointing to the table. “On the throne.” Pointing outside, indicating the land. His cat-like eyes locked with your snake-like gaze, lips forming his next words slowly and deliberately.

“In bed.”

Your eyes trailed from those glittering dark eyes to his pleased smirk. Not a malicious expression somehow. An exciting one. You fully expected to be walking into this room to tear down an arrogant, gaudy man with grandiose self-centeredness.

Instead, it was Min Yoongi.

He ticked his chin to Jungkook, now right next you instead of behind you, clutching your arm tightly.

“Do you want him to be with you? That could be arranged. I can make that happen.”

You really thought you would hate Min Yoongi and yet it seemed as if you were being drawn closer and closer to him. You pursed your lips, not ready to give up yet. He continued.

“And, of course, there’s no reason for your parents to enjoy luxuries that they didn’t earn, is there?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. Yoongi smiled, calm with an underlying slyness.

“That would reflect on you if you treated your in-laws poorly,” you responded coolly.

Yoongi shrugged. “And so? I still have you.” He tilted his head. “Why take a wife if you’re not prepared to do anything for her?” He nodded to himself, tapping his fingertips on the table once more. “Whatever you want, I can make it happen. Be it your brother tagging along, your parents’ lives in ruins…”

Yoongi’s eyes found yours and there was a kindness, already knowing your and him were meant to be.

You weren’t so sure.

And yet.

His next words made you fall in love.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll do it for you.”

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #bts fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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shadowsinger11 · 4 years

Text

Inspiration

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Requested by anon: Could you do a Fred Weasley imagine where he falls in love with Harry’s younger sister. (Maybe a after the war where he lives)

Word Count: 3.3k (my hand slipped oops)

Genre: Fluff, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining etc.

Warnings: Slight innuendo, Fred being cute and hot simultaneously

Tags: @self-ship-love @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @elf-punk @heart-of-tempered-steel @itseatyourdamnapples

Message me if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, England, July 16, 2000

It was a chilly Sunday evening. The summer air buzzed with excitement and the tender aroma of magnolia as tiny white and pink petals were gracefully falling from the huge cherry trees, carried by the light breeze. Twilight painted the horizon in liquid gold and fiery red, soon followed by mellow shades of dark blue that brought countless sparkling stars.

It was getting the slightest bit colder, but it did not matter; nothing else mattered but the loud cheers and cheerful music, celebrating the official bond between a Potter and a Weasley under the wide night sky.

You couldn't have been happier for your older brother, Harry, who was currently dancing with Ginny, his now wife - now and for the rest of his, hopefully, but not really likely, peaceful life. For the longest time you've been wondering how he'd always manage to get into trouble even as a small First year with no experience in the wizarding world whatsoever. Or, perhaps, that was the exact reason as to why evil-battling and rule-breaking were such common practices when hanging out with him.

However, there was no fighting that day. There was no room for worry and fear when the entire Weasley family and their loved ones were gathered on the clearing in front of the Burrow, chatting, laughing, dancing, singing, drinking, celebrating and living for what seemed to be the first time since Lord Voldemort's fall. Danger was practically nonexistent in that blissful moment which was frozen in time, once having looked agonizingly distant and impossible to hope for. But that dream was no longer just a foolish fantasy to heal wounded hearts. It was there, and it was happening in the most beautiful way imaginable.

And suddenly, all those clichés of a married life weren't even clichés. They were simply humble wishes of people who had witnessed far too many horrors in such a short period of time, and only craved stability among the massive chaos. So when you glanced at Ginny, a twirling blur of flaming red hair and a gorgeous wedding dress, you didn't feel the need to comment on how banal the color white was. You genuinely smiled, admiring the pure, exuberant joy, visible in her eyes and scarlet cheeks. Harry looked just as, if not even happier than his wife, dancing in the ridiculous but wholehearted way that only he could, and old memories of him winning the golden egg, training Dumbledore's Army and kissing Ginny in the common room for the very first time flooded into your mind.

It had truly been a long time since you had seen Harry careless and free like that.

You yourself had spent an ungodly amount of hours preparing the yard for the ceremony all day; rearranging chairs, decorating, making sure everything was going by schedule, only to then dance your tired feet off, and though you wanted to continue having fun with Hermione, Luna and the rest of the girls waiting for you, you really needed a break. And a drink.

Excusing yourself to leave the particularly interesting conversation you were having with distant Weasley relatives, you slipped off your black flats that, despite looking absolutely stunning, hurt your feet terribly after an entire day of fussing over the color of napkins and flower bouquets. Barefoot on the grass, you walked over to a chair next to a table which seemed to have been occupied, but judging by the mostly empty glasses and plates, the guests weren't coming back anytime soon.

You tossed your shoes aside with a sigh and rushed to rub your aching toes, hissing from how sore they were.

How has Ginny been dancing like that for hours?

"Enjoying the party, I see?" a familiar deep, slightly husky voice commented, causing you to look up.

It was none other than Fred Weasley, dear friend from childhood, staring down at you, his ever-present charming smirk resting on features and hands shoved into the pockets of his dragonskin suit. But it was his flaming red hair that made your eyes widen - it was carefully smoothed back, shining under the moonlight like liquid iron.

Fred's eyes still contained their famous, loveable mischief, except now slightly tamer and calmer. His firm biceps had visibly grown in size, stretching out the fabric of his coat just a bit to give you a prominent silhouette that caught you off guard.

It had been two years; he had changed so much.

And you were afraid to admit you had too.

You blinked in surprise, processing his uncharacteristically sophisticated appearance before realizing what he had asked you.

"Would've enjoyed it far more if my legs weren't killing me," you groaned half-heartedly and leaned back on your chair. "What's with your hair?"

"What's with your feet?"

"I asked you first," you cut him off. "I bet Ginny is responsible for this."

"Actually…" Fred trailed off, and, whether on purpose or not, ran a hand through the ginger locks to keep them in place, unaware of how you suddenly wished the hand doing the graceful motion wasn't his. "Mum insisted that I looked my best. What can I say, it's not like George and I usually listen to her, but we thought we'd make an exception this time; our sister doesn't get married every day. But honestly, Ginny couldn't care less about how we looked as long we showed up."

"So like usual, you mean?" you giggled. "Showing up is an achievement for you even if you're underdressed?"

Fred beamed, pearly white smile complementing his formal outfit. You wondered if he used that exact smile to effortlessly allure costumers and business partners at work.

He rested an elbow on the table as he leaned forward.

"Come on now, darling. I know you find my messy hair irresistible either way."

His cockiness only caused you to laugh, though Fred was quick to spot the flash of nervousness in your eyes; it brought him immense pride to know he was the one to turn you from confident to adorably bashful and flustered in the matter of seconds.

He was looking at you intensely, expectantly waiting for you to deny his flirty accusation despite your shyness.

"Nah, Weasley. It only reminds me that even at twenty-two you still do not know how to use a comb."

Fred's eyebrows shot straight up to his hairline, mouth agape. For the first time, he actually needed a second to form a reply.

"Didn't see that coming, I give you that. Courageous one, you are."

Your heart fluttered with joy and you openly grinned, shrugging in half-hearted humbleness.

"Perhaps I am."

Speaking to him felt unusually energizing, as though you had jumped headfirst into a chilly lake. It was unfamiliar and it set your nerves on fire, causing your stomach to twist and turn with sensations that left you dizzy, but unbelievably thrilled. And you wanted more of it, you wanted more of him.

"Fancy a drink?" Fred offered, already pouring champagne into a glass before handing it to you, and you keenly took it.

"Thanks, I've been thirsty with all the preparations I was doing."

"Is that why your legs are killing you?"

"Exactly, I've been running around all day, making sure everything was in order… you know, a lot of organizing and the like."

"It must hurt quite a bit then," Fred commented with a pained grimace. "But I absolutely get you, Georgie and I are just like that when it comes to the shop. It's a lot of accounting if I'm being honest, though I admit he's way better at it. We need to be completely precise; we can't allow any mistakes."

"Woah," you laughed. "Control freak much?"

He wettened his lips, never breaking eye contact.

"Perhaps I am."

You tilted your head to the side, gaze piercing into his in hopes of finding out what those gorgeous brown eyes were hiding. The tiny playful flames in them were eloquent.

Shifting slightly in your seat, you smoothed out your bridesmaid dress and raised your glass, the ghost of a smirk playing on your lips.

"Cheers to us control freaks then."

Fred mirrored your smug expression and your glasses met with a clink. The bubbly liquid tingled your throat, undoubtedly refreshing you and cooling you off. You glanced at the people dancing in the centre of the clearing and giggled - Ginny had apparently thrown away her white shoes long ago, bare feet stepping elegantly on the grass.

"You see, I'd like to chat a bit more with you, but I'm afraid it's a bit too loud here. What about we go to the pond across the field?" Fred suggested, pointing at the woods behind his back. You had visited them countless times when staying with Harry at the Burrow during holidays years ago; the tall trees and the glistening waters had never ceased to bring you comfort.

The noise started to become bothersome, and you felt it even more necessary to continue your conversation somewhere private, the unknown causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Fred's presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, or the sensation of anticipating a tidal wave to crash into you in less than a second. It was wild and the tiniest bit terrifying, but oh so tempting as it pulled you in.

"I'd love that, but… you know," you grinned and playfully swang your sore feet. "Can't really walk."

But this didn't at all seem like a problem to Fred Weasley who only shrugged and stood up, "You don't have to. I'll carry you."

"Merlin, no! Please, it's not necessary."

Fred frowned, but his confused expression was soon replaced by an amused one.

"You said it yourself that your feet hurt like hell. And even if carrying you around isn't necessary, it doesn't mean I don't want to."

You attempted to tame the butterflies.

"No, no! You seriously don't have to, I promise," you frantically protested as you held up your hands in front of you to reassure him, but he only gave you a weird look. "I can walk on my own. I'll be too heavy for you."

"There's only one way to find out."

Fred walked over to you and leaned down, one hand sneaking around your waist and the other slipping under your knees. You shrieked in terror, arms flying to clutch at his shoulders, and heat rose to your cheeks from the abrupt contact. Your chests were pressed together, and you were afraid he'd be able to feel your racing heart. His skin was warmer than you had thought, and it successfully fought off the night summer chill.

"Are we going?" Fred whispered down at you, lips so close to yours that you recognized the nuance of champagne in his breath, mixing unbelievably well with the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood of his cologne.

Not only is he sinfully attractive, but he smells heavenly too?

"Yes," you breathed and let Fred effortlessly walk across the meadow with you in his arms. They brought this new, odd, yet familiar sense of security, and you allowed your head to rest against his chest, nervous gaze wandering off into the distance in hopes of not meeting his. Nevertheless, curiosity eventually took the best of you, and your eyes would occasionally flicker to his, which were now completely black under the night sky. They could swallow you whole, you swore.

Minutes later, you found yourselves in the company of old, enormous willows which surrounded the pond you so vividly remembered from your teenage years. You thanked Fred as he carefully let you down, and took a few steps forward to look around and drench in the misty moonlight that enveloped the area. The waters were crystal clear and completely still, reflecting the moon and its majestic silver glow. The bushes had grown significantly over the time you were away, and you fondly looked back at the moments when you would pick up colorful wildflowers in the summer before your fourth year.

"Shall we sit?" Fred asked quietly from right behind your shoulder, and you followed him with a nod. You found a comfortable spot on the fresh grass to sit, a few feet away from where the water met the soil and moved back and forth ever so slightly.

"It's more beautiful than I remember," you noted, lips curled up in a barely visible smile. Fred hummed in agreement.

"That's why I always make sure to come here every chance I get when I return. But, unfortunately, that's very rare in my case."

For a moment, there was only the chirping of crickets and the soft bubbling of water.

Fred turned to you.

"Remember when mum used to call for us to de-gnome the garden and we'd hide here? We could stay in the bushes for hours before we eventually came back," he recalled, seeming deep in thought. It was an extraordinary sight; for once the playful spark in his eyes was more mellow, there was no cockiness seeping into the way he was holding himself. He was just Fred, the man who was currently thinking with so much adoration and love about his childhood, the most significant memories of it being marked by you.

You wondered, given you ever had the chance to spend with Fred as much time as your older brother did, if the charismatic prankster would have fallen for you like you had done. You wondered, given the chance you had let Fred get to know you better all those summers ago, if his heart would have belonged to you by now just like yours did to him.

Had you possibly missed your chance?

"Oh, I do," you sighed, the tension in your chest vanishing as warm nostalgia crept in like an old friend. "I also remember when I got this really bad nightmare that night. I was so terrified that you took me on a ride with your broom in the middle of the night to cheer me up."

"That's true! My parents don't know about it to this day," he replied smugly. "I can still hear you screaming like a lunatic."

You jokingly smacked his arm, "I was twelve!"

Fred's grin grew wider.

"Excuses…"

This only caused you to stare at him in disbelief and cross your arms, managing your most serious expression, but Fred was aware you were on the verge of failing to keep your stern facade. He squinted his eyes as a teasing attempt to provoke you, smile threatening to split his face in two.

"Alright then, that's enough about me," you announced, and Fred nodded in mock agreement as he studied your playful pretence. "If you're so much better than me, Mr Darcy, what else do you do aside from stealing ladies away?"

"Stealing their hearts," he said confidently, flashing you a seductive smirk, reserved only for special girls back in your Hogwarts days. You giggled, finding his antic utterly ridiculous, but you hated to admit that it still turned your blood into liquid fire. Fred apparently saw right through you, because when your eyes landed on his, they appeared completely dark once again, but, you suspected, for a reason other than the lack of light.

Your throat went dry, and you found it hard to swallow down the lump that cut your breath short.

He ran a hand through his ginger hair as he began to explain, "I'm kidding, you know. But to answer your question, George and I have been working on this potion that should be able to change the color of the eyes and hair. Fun for those who enjoy experimenting with their appearance, but it can also be useful to the Ministry. They're actually going to send a team of a couple of aurors to visit us next month so we can update them on our progress and negotiate the details."

"Wow! That's certainly exciting!"

"Is it? I mean, it probably is, but I've been having second thoughts lately if I'm being honest." He scratched the back of his neck, and you realised you had only witnessed him being anxious when it came to his greatest passion. "I'm afraid we might not be done on time, there's still plenty left to improve."

You put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, and said, "I'm sure you'll figure it all out eventually. Keep working as you normally do, try not to stress too much over the deadline, and even if things go wrong at some point, don't go too hard on yourself. It wouldn't take away any progress you've made so far."

Fred's body relaxed just a bit and he looked down at you. He couldn't deny the sense of serenity that he felt only when he was with you. Even as a careless young boy, he was able to pinpoint the way his midriff would clench every time you'd laugh at his jokes or ask him to play with you, without knowing what it all meant.

But now, as a grown man, he had a word to describe the bittersweet fire within.

"You know what?" He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "I could really benefit from having someone like you around to give me motivation."

"Motivation, huh?" you raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. Fred sneaked a hand around your waist and pulled you closer.

"Yes, motivation."

"Motivation for what?"

"Marketing strategies, work projects…" he shrugged nonchalantly, "...among other things."

You quickly caught on, suddenly becoming way too self-aware of the way you were practically cuddled into Fred's side, hand resting on his shoulder while his were wrapped around your waist. But his shining confidence seemed to rub off on you, because you asked.

"What's with you offering me a job all of a sudden?"

His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth as he took his sweet time devouring you with his darkened gaze. You didn't know whether you wanted to hide from it, or expose yourself even further to the way it burned its way straight to your core.

"Well…" Fred dragged out in his low, hoarse voice, and caressed your cheek with his thumb before slipping it under your chin to guide it towards his face. You could nearly taste the remaining flavour of champagne on his lips. "I've certainly been feeling…"

Fred went quiet as he got lost in the way you fit so perfectly in his arms; you had always meant to be there, he realised. His mouth crashed into yours, hands tightly gripping your waist, and you let out a gasp. Fred's lips were soft, although slightly chapped, and they moved gently but firmly against yours, turning you into their slave. Your palms naturally slid up his chest and he closed any remaining distance between your bodies by placing you to straddle his lap. The kiss was a dance of pushing forward and pulling back, two lovers having finally found their rhythm after years of living in fearful desire. You were positively drunk on his taste, on him, and you wished to never become sober.

When your need for air overcame the one for physical contact, you pulled away. Your chests were heaving with rapid, shallow breaths, hearts beating in synch like they had always done. You let a finger tenderly trace his cheekbone down to his jawline, then it came back up to draw different affectionate patterns on his face.

"What were you saying?" you asked, clearly out of breath. "How were you feeling?"

He fondly took your hand that was caressing his skin, and lifted it up to press feather-light kisses on your knuckles. His lips retraced their path until they reached the tips of your fingers, and he kissed those with the gentlest of touch.

You heart ached pleasurably from the way he was handling you with such care, much more than you ever believed he was capable of.

After minutes of worshipping you by the moonlit lake, Fred looked back at you as though you were his entire world. And replied with a smile.

"Inspired."

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader fluff #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley oneshot #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins #fred and george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #james phelps #oliver phelps

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dirty-brainrot · 3 years

Text

(Not like him ²)

Here's the 2nd part to this!

Pairing(s): Stardust Crusaders x Reader

After traveling for weeks and days with the crusaders, all of you have finally reached Cairo. You helped them track down DIO to the best of your abilities. But you were able to only scout the area for them at night and kept an eye out for any stand users under DIO's influence. (And yet with all of your efforts, your relationship with Jotaro hasn't changed. He's still wary of you.)

Iggy had been wounded. None of you were there to see what happened so you could only guess that the boston terrier was attacked by a stand user. On the brighter side, Kakyoin returned fully healed after the incident with the water stand.

You all wasted no time and headed straight for DIO's mansion. Although, you had a hard time keeping up because of the thick clothes you wore to protect you from the striking sun.

The time you had there was excruciating. Your allies had a near-death experience at the fight with Vanilla Ice but good thing you were there to prevent that. Although, they had sustained heavy wounds, making them unable to help further, and had to fall back.

DIO's minions were able to stall you all until sunset. Forced to fight DIO at night, you discarded the heavy cloak, also gaining the upper hand. And all of you fled away thinking of a way to figure out his stand's powers. Jotaro chased after the vengeful Polnareff while you, Kakyoin, and Mr. Joestar figured out the body-stealing vampire's stand.

Currently, you were on the trunk of the truck, gripping tightly on the edges so you wouldn't get thrown off. You screamed to Joseph on the wheel. "DRIVE FASTER!! HE'S GAINING ON US—" You looked back at the car that DIO was in but you were only met with a corpse hurtling towards you at great speed. Startled, you jumped off and rolled around the pavement. The car slammed into a building and exploded with debris flying all over. Worried for your companions, you ran towards the car. The corpse sat there but they were nowhere to be found.

Relief washed over you once you saw them swinging from buildings to building and calling your name. You glanced behind you to see DIO's silhouette in the smoke, calling out to you. "Y/N... Join me..." Not wanting to handle him on your own, you ran after Kakyoin and Joseph. Jumping from buildings to another as your stand had no swinging abilities like theirs. "Joestar!!" Catching up to them, you spoke in panic. "What's the plan?! He's going to catch up sooner or later!"

"Don't worry Y/N!" Kakyoin grabbed your arm and pulled you away from Joseph. You both hid behind a building. Confused, you looked up at him waiting for answers. "We made a plan. I will set up a trap while Mr. Joestar distracts him." Provided with little context; You nodded slowly, unsure. He quickly made a platform with [Hierophant]'s tentacles for you and him to stand on. You stood beside him, watching the Joestar struggle to keep DIO away.

Once he was in the designated spot. He was finally able to entrap him in place, kakyoin used his splash move. "Emerald Splash!" Trapping DIO into his 50-meter Emeralds Splash web.

"Smart..." 'With this... we can get DIO to use his stand..!' You mumble and he flashes you a quick, small smile. "Hmm... Y/N... This will be the last chance I give you a chance to join me—" You interrupted him, growing frustrated with his repeated words. "Just stop with that already! After what you put these Joestars through... I'll never join your side." You growled at him and he laughs, mocking you. Kakyoin fired emeralds at him, making him halt his laughter.

As Kakyoin stated, nobody can deflect his emerald splash but DIO was able to do it with his bare hands. "That won't hold him for too long, Kak... Will this work?—" And right on time, DIO finally decided to reveal his stand's true power. "[The World]'s true power is, indeed, the power to reign over this world!"

A loud echoing noise, then suddenly, everything stopped. 'His stand...' You didn't get the chance to finish your thought as he starts to cut Kakyoin's trap while flying in your direction. "Dear Y/n... My beloved half-blood... You could've ruled the world with me... But it's too late for that now." 'This is no good... My secret weapon is the same as his too..!' [The World] pulled back his arm, getting ready to strike a punch. But it wasn't directed at you, it was directed at Kakyoin's stomach.

As [The World]'s fist was halfway through the air, you moved through stopped time, surprising DIO but that didn't stop him. You grabbed Kakyoin's arm and pulled him away, taking the hit through the stomach. Unlike DIO, your [The World] can only pause and move through stopped time for a second or two. Making it slightly weaker.

DIO was still caught off guard by your stand's ability, his own stand's arm still plunged into your stomach as time started ticking again. Your hair wildly slapped against your face as you flew through the air until you felt yourself hit a water tank. Kakyoin and Joseph called out to you but you weren't able to hear them due to the ringing from your ears from the metallic impact.

Feeling numb, you tried getting all your senses all together but it was to no avail. Slowly, you tilt your head up. you could see Kakyoin's silhouette swinging on buildings trying to get to you. Being strict by drinking anything but animal blood is giving you a huge withdrawal. Your regeneration isn't as fast as it was before... "-N...Y/N!" You snap your head back up to see Kakyoin looking at you with concern. "Y/N, are you ok?!" You cough out blood and weakly spoke. "Same stand... DIO can stop... time.." Kakyoin glanced back behind him and back to you. He avoids looking at your stomach, feeling sick that he can see through the hole.

"Wh—why aren't you healing?" He stutters and helps you get out of the water tank. You collapsed on top of him and he gently sets you down on the floor, kneeling beside you.

"Need blood..." His eyes widen and you shook your head. "Tell... Joestar that.. DIO...can stop time.." You croak. Your body is regenerating but it wasn't as fast as how you wanted it. Kakyoin nodded and stood up, expecting him to leave you and help the elder Joestar but you were wrong. He called out his stand and shoot the large clock, breaking its hands.

"Fool..! Just go find Jota—" He stops you and grabs your arm, pointing it to his neck directly at the carotid artery. "You said you needed blood right?" Kakyoin said with a stern face. Your eyes widen as you tug your hand away from his neck, failing due to lack of strength. "Yes... but I don't need it- I can manage." you croak out while Kakyoin kept a firm grip on your hand. "Y/N, you saved me. You need this to be able to fight DIO." 'He doesn't even know if I actually saved him... He has this much trust in me..' Biting your lip, you hesitantly shoved your sharpened nails in his neck. You only needed a small amount...

He visibly winced but it disappeared quickly. You drank a small portion of his blood while your wounds start to regenerate at a quicker pace. Slowly getting your strength back, you rose from your sitting position and quickly removed your fingers from Kakyoin's neck. He stumbled a bit but you helped him regain his footing. "G-go..." You nodded and prepared to jump through buildings to catch up with Joseph and DIO but before you did, you glanced at Kakyoin. The guilt slowly rising within you, he notices your look and smiles. "...thank you." You mutter and with that, you searched for DIO and joseph.

Jumping from buildings to buildings again, time would often stop but thanks to Kakyoin's offering, you learned that you could stop and move through time for at least 5 seconds or more. Following the trail of bloodshed, you saw Joseph's dried corpse in the distance. "Oh no..." No time for grieving, you continued. Getting closer, you start to feel the presence of your damned brother.

"ROAD ROLLER!" There they were, on the bridge with Jotaro losing to DIO. Quickly, you made your way to them. "DIO!" You screamed before freezing in time. He laughs and throws the road equipment towards you, it gets stuck in time after it was inches from you. At least Jotaro doesn't have to worry about getting crushed.

Once time started ticking, you evaded it by punching it with your stand. Given the opportunity, you stopped time. DIO froze due to his stand's ability cooldown. You gave him a hard punch in the stomach like what he did earlier. Your stand's hand goes through him then you slow down and freeze while DIO starts moving again. He starts laughing at your attempt. "Foolish Y/N.... I am stronger than you." He pushes you. You flew back and your stand's hand went out of his stomach. It regenerates as nothing had happened.

DIO approaches you, your body tilted as it was frozen in time. "Why couldn't you just let me kill the Joestar's bloodline?" [The World] raises its arm, ready to decapitate you as DIO spoke. "Just for this, I'll make you suffer to what I had to go through just to get this body—" Then suddenly, he froze too. Behind him, you could see a towering Jotaro. "It seems like you can only stop time for 9 seconds..." He glances at you and nods, as a way of thanking you for distracting DIO to help him regain his strength.

"Now, it won't take even a second to finish you off!" Jotaro shouts and points at DIO. He approaches him from behind. Jotaro starts his monologue and kicks DIO on the legs, breaking them. "Time has begun to move again." Time starts and you dodged the falling DIO. He falls into the concrete, his legs bleeding. Jotaro hops off the road roller. "How long will your legs heal? Two seconds? Three seconds?" He stood in front of DIO. Ready to give him a beatdown. "The moment you heal. I'll throw [Star Platinum] at you."

DIO elevates himself, his knees shaking. He seems to be mumbling something. "-How I do it, does not matter!" He splurts out blood to Jotaro's eyes. 'He's playing dirty-' You jumped into action, helping Jotaro counter [The World]'s leg attack. You and Jotaro both punched its leg. [Star Platinum]'s hand starts to crack as well as your stand's but it healed quickly. DIO smirks at Jotaro but it instantly switched as the three of you heard another crack. [The world] starts cracking and falling apart. DIO screamed in agony. "WHAT?!" He starts splitting apart while yelling. "IMPOSSIBLE! I-I AM DIO!" He repeats his words and explodes into pieces. Body parts flying around and his blood tainting the floor.

That's it. It's done.

You sat down and sighed in relief. "Glad he's gone. He always stole my food..." Jotaro chuckles but abruptly stops. "Do you think... The old man's blood can be retrieved back?" You look at him with wide eyes. He looked determined and from his question, you could guess that he had a plan. "What do we have to lose?" And with that, the two of you called the Speedwagon Foundation.

Everything went well in the ambulance, Jotaro nearly punched his grandfather and you laughed at their antics. Avdol and Iggy gained prosthetics, Polnareff was mildly injured (comparing to Iggy and Avdol.) And Kakyoin is gaining some of his blood back.

You stayed with the Joestars while the others flew back to their home country.

But you can't help but think about the sweet warm blood that Kakyoin offered you. Maybe drinking a few more human blood wouldn't be too bad...

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arty-shadow-morningstar · 3 years

Text

A Failed Betrothal (5)

This is going to be the last part I am going to post in a while. My school is finally starting up again and I am sure to be swamped with homework. Without further ado. Enjoy ❤

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 4)

-----------

Damian laid in bed, thinking about the recent turn of events. Lady, who told them that they can call her Marinette since they might as well get acquainted while the Waynes were in Paris. She had found out Jason’s identity after a few google searches and by extension, the rest of the Bats while they both were taking a shower. It had taken a few arguments and one sentimonster attack that cut one of the arguments short to trust the Dupain-Chengs with their secret identities. His bride was apparently a superhero too. Has been for a few years. In a different world, he might have actually dated her out of his own free will and fought crime with her together.

Damian shook his head at that thought.

That was the curse talking. Get a hold of yourself, Wayne. Resist. Don’t think about Marinette and her blue eyes.

Back to the akumas, Paris had been under the control of a magical terrorist for years. Lady Noire, formerly known as Ladybug, formed a team to battle against him. He also found out about the Guardian who chose Marinette and someone else, who wasn’t spoken about much except that his name was Chat Noir and she now wields his ring temporarily, to fight against Hawkmoth as partners. The same Guardian that promised her hand-in-marriage in exchange for protection from the League of Assassins. Sabine, the Blue Reaper, had to be restrained from killing the old amnesiatic man by her bear of a husband who was reluctant to do so and also wanted to help her.

Hawkmoth also had a partner who went by the name, Mayura, with a power similar to his and could create sentimonster out of negative emotions. Their top suspect was Gabriel Agreste, with much evidence pointing his way but they had difficulty trying to confirm it and had the time to gather evidence to do it. The local authorities were helpful but getting a search warrant for a famous, rich designer who was a known recluse with circumstantial evidence is not possible.

After informing their father of their kidnapping and the situation in Paris (and racking up the Dupain-Cheng's phone bill), they were told to stay there and help as much as they can. Tim, who was coming to Paris for a vacation (suspicious), got his plans hijacked and was now going to help uncover Hawkmoth’s identity.

When the Justice League had reached out a few years ago, they were rebuffed by the Mayor. Nightrunner got into contact with the one of the heroes, Ladybug who asked for a meeting outside of Paris with Wonder Woman and Batman came along, to assess her. They didn’t expect a young girl to be Paris’s heroine.

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3 years ago…

“Bonjour, Princess Diana of Themyscira, daughter of Hippolayta, it is an honour to meet you. And you too, Batman.” The spotted heroine greeted both of them with Nightrunner besides her. Their meeting point was in the gardens in the Palace of Versailles.

“The pleasure is all mine, Ladybug. But I am confused as to why you have refused the Justice League’s help.” Wonder Woman was worried that the Ladybug Miraculous was active again and for many good reasons.

“I would be glad for some help but Paris is run by an incompetent fool. He wants no one outside of Paris to think that the city is unsafe due to Hawkmoth and keep the tourism numbers high. The other reason is that my Miraculous Cure can restore any physical damages done during a fight and involving you might result in more damages than I could cure. But I also think it would be better if there were less powerful heroes in Paris, akumas amplifies one’s power and I don’t want to fight you after you had a bad day.” Ladybug explained. Nightrunner murmured in agreement.

“Do you know how Hawkmoth operates?” asked Batman. He had read reports of the situation but wondered the true extent of it.

“Have Wonder Woman explained to you about the Miraculous?”

He nodded.

“Hawkmoth has the butterfly miraculous, and it has the power of transmission. In the right hands, they would be used to grant ordinary people powers as the user’s champions. But in the hands of Hawkmoth, he targets people with high negative emotions, a girl after a bad break-up or a student with a failed grade. He grants them powers to use for revenge or some obscure version of justice. In return, he asks for mine and Chat Noir’s miraculous. With our two miraculous, he can make a wish but wishes always come with a price so it is best if we keep it out of his reach.”

“How have you not captured him yet?”

“Hawkmoth is a coward who rarely comes out to face us. I have never met him face-to-face. He uses people to get what he wants. Not very honourable. The Mayor has refused to help my attempts to stop him or prevent more akumas because his bratty daughter isn’t given a Miraculous to be a hero. I don’t have the time or resources because I am still in school and have other obligations outside the suit. I can’t tell my family and ask for help because the Guardian’s ,the one who gave me the Miraculous in the first place, secret identities rule and some magic thing that makes me unable to tell them.”

The adults were all horrified at what the girl was going through.

“We could help in other ways. Not fight the akumas but provide you the resources to track down and capture him. Do you have any training? From the footage we have seen, you know martial arts and how to use some weapons.”

“I was raised in a forgotten temple somewhere in Asia with brutal training everyday before I ran away. I met someone on my way out who took me in and adopted me.” She said it seriously enough that they have no room for doubt.

“Batman, she just said she was adopted. She may have the features but the answer is no.” Wonder Woman said with a knowing look in her eyes.

“I wasn’t thinking about it. She has a duty to Paris right now and I am not going to take away from her life here. I don’t adopt every black-haired and blue-eyed child I see.” Batman denied.

“I am confused.” Ladybug said, tilting her head.

“Batman here has a bad habit of adopting kids with a tragic past, especially kids with black hair and blue eyes.” Nightrunner explained to his fellow Parisian hero.

“Well, Mousier, you will have to fight my parents for custody. While I have training, Chat Noir doesn’t and he hinders the battles with his ‘help’. I would give him some but he sees them as dates even though I have told him it’s not.”

“His incompetence is a liability. Why is he your partner?”

“The Guardian chose him too like he chose me through some stupid trial I somehow passed the requirements for. I am just hoping that there is a really good reason for choosing Chat Noir. I have some questions on how you are-”

“Ladybug, what are you doing?” A sharp voice cut in. An old man who appeared to be dressed as a tortoise landed in front of them.

“Master Fu, this is Princess Diana of Themyscira and the world’s greatest detective, Batman. I am asking for their help in finding Hawkmoth.” Ladybug explained, confused why Master Fu looked upset.

“Ladybug, that was extremely foolish of you. This is a matter of the Order. You shouldn’t have involved other heroes in it. We can resolve this on our own. I apologize on behalf of her for wasting your time.”

“But, Master-” “We will talk about this later, Ladybug. You are young and don’t understand things yet.”

“Guardian, with all due respect, my mother was a Ladybug wielder herself and the Amazons will lend a hand to any miraculous holders in need.”

“It is appreciated but Ladybug, Chat Noir and I can do it on our own. Come along, Ladybug.”

“Let me at least apologize for my mistake, Guardian.”

“Very well. Meet me later.”

“I am sorry but it looks like I have to fight Hawkmoth without your help. That being said please don’t try to look further into Hawkmoth’s identity and leave any notes of your leads in the mouth of the gargoyle on the northside of Notre Dame where I usually rest after I finish patrol. Salut, Princess Diana, Batman, Nightrunner.” She left using her yo-yo to swing away after giving them a wink.

Batman smirked. He had to give it to Ladybug, she was clever and resourceful and Diana was right, he wanted to adopt her.

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Present time…

(Words in bold are French)

Now that the previous Guardian was out of the picture, the Miraculous team would gladly accept any help they can get.

Damian and Jason had picked up Tim from the airport and they had already set things up in one of the Wayne penthouses in Paris. Less chance of nosy maids than in a hotel.

Bilal had already handed over all the evidence he could find. He was also one of the Miraculous team’s trainers when Sabine couldn’t make it. Jason and Damian were going to help in training and be back-up heroes when needed. (Bilal wore a miraculous once to help out. And that one time was weird enough to last him a lifetime and he was never doing it again.)

Sadly, all the magic users who were allies or part of the JL were busy with other missions or MIA so they couldn’t break Damian’s curse yet. Bruce didn’t see the problem with the curse so unless it causes major problems or someone is free to break it. They couldn’t go back to Gotham until they got the necessary things in order so it looks like they were going to be in Paris for a while.

The next morning, Tim was nowhere to be found. Because they were paranoid Batboys, they tracked his phone to see him at the Dupain-Cheng’s bakery with Marinette and a group of other people, having breakfast.

“There you are, Replacement.” Jason shouted as he entered the bakery, “So, this is where you were? I see you have already figured out who Ladybug is and met her.”

Marinette looked at Damian and Jason, then at Tim and back at them again.

Oh.

She face-palmed as she connected the dots and realized what the nagging feeling she had around Tim was about.

“Oh my Kwamis, you are Tim Drake, adopted by Bruce Wayne aka Batman. Jason and Damian are your brothers. And judging by your build, you are Red Robin. I feel so stupid.”

Thankfully, there were no customers around yet to hear some of the world’s most important secrets being out.

“I am- We are not- Bruce isn’t- How?! How the hell did you find out? And you are Ladybug?!” Tim was floundering at Marinette’s words and the caffeine from his first coffee of the day hadn’t kicked in yet. He looked at her friends, who were looking at the Wayne boys with shocked expressions….and looked similar to the rest of the Miraculous Team.

The caffeine finally kicked in.

“Oh my God. I was talking to the entire Miraculous Team and I didn’t know it. That means Chloe Bourgeois is a hero. That bratty blonde I met as a child is a hero.”

“Speak for yourself, Timothy, my childhood friend is a hero too. I can’t believe we are all heroes.” Chloe said in total disbelief.

Introductions and alter egos were exchanged.

Nearly everything went swimmingly if it weren’t for Chloe jokingly elbowed Marinette and said, “You get to date a hero too. No need to worry about flaking out on dates.”

“What do you mean dates? Dupain-Cheng and I aren’t dating.” Damian said, “My mother wanted us to marry each other, not date.”

“Mari, looks like you need some explaining to do.”

Marinette gave the short story on how she met Damian and Jason.

“So you guys are absolutely not dating? Cool. Tim, are you still open to being Mari-bug's fake boyfriend?” Chloe asked. Tim looked at her incredulously.

“You called me all the way here to fake-date your friend. Why? Not that I am complaining about her or anything.” “There is this boy in our class, Adrien Agreste and he has a little obsession with Marinette.” Chloe explained. “Romantic Soulmates.” Nathaniel chimed in, doing air-quotes.

“So I volunteered on your behalf to be my best friend’s long-distance boyfriend in America who has video-call dates with her once a week. You are going to have little romantic dates coincidently where our classmates are going to be, especially Adrien. It might put him off from pursuing Marinette for a while. After you leave, we are just to mention you every now and then to prevent him from getting any ideas.”

Damian felt a hot, burning sensation in his chest and clenched his jaw at the thought of Marin- Dupain-Cheng holding hands, cuddling and doing all those romantic actions with Drake of all people. (No, he wasn’t jealous. Not at all. Don’t be stupid. )

“Tch, Drake is going to be busy trying to find Hawkmoth. He can’t go around Paris, being Dupain-Cheng’s boyfriend. Besides, he can’t be a proper boyfriend even in his most lucid moments. I will be her boyfriend instead.”

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Tag list: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0, @myazael, @tonicxworld, @thewitchwhowaited, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @kissa-chan, @iwantasecretidentity, @theymakeupfairies, @user00000003, @woe-is-me0, @kashlyn, @mochegato,@moonlightstar64 , @greatcatblaze, @moongoddesskiana, @tazanna-blythe. @tonicxworld, @toodaloo-kangaroo, @frieddonutsweets, @local-witch-of-mn, @lady-bee-fechin, @iglowinggemma28, @indecisive-mess-named-me, @k-tea-and-coffee, @jayjayspixiepop, @all-mights-asscheeks, @idk-j-go-with-it , @loysydark, @thenillabean, @lolieg, @zalladane, @silvergold-swirl, @henie04, @blueblossombliss, @khneltea, @mochegato, @itsmeevie01, @roguishredaxion, @alyssadeliv, @steph-hearthlight, @adrestar, @eliza-bich, @abrx2002, @hikari55ttva, @doglover82, @daminette5074

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(PART 6)

#damian x marinette #mlb x dc #daminette #maribat #Betrothal AU: take 2 #A Failed Betrothal #betrothed couple fake dating #Chloe and Tim as childhood friends #Master Fu salt #damian is not jealous. it is an absurd notion to make

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noforkingclue · 3 years

Text

You Should’ve Ran (Zemo x reader)

Summary: There was a lot of this you should’ve done but now it was too late.

Warnings: Dark, non con, choking, poorly written smut, Zemo being an absolute bastard

Author’s Note: So this is probably one of the darkest things I’ve written. I also haven’t written anything smutty in ages so I don’t know how good it’s going to be. Please take note of the above warnings!

You should’ve ran when you had the chance. You should’ve packed a bag and ditched your home as soon as he let you go, but you didn’t. You were foolish, arrogant, you thought that you could beat him at his own game and now you were paying the price.

You should’ve ran.

But you stayed.

And now you were paying the price

You hated to admit it but you had gotten used to the staring, to the constant feeling of eyes on the back of your neck. The soft brushes in the crowd that you somehow, instinctively, knew were from him. The footsteps following you home at night even though you could protect yourself. In the beginning it felt like he was some sick, twisted protector. You were torn between craving his attention and fleeing, although you knew that running away from him would just start your cat and mouse game again. There was no escaping once he had you in his sights.

The one thing that still unnerved you was when you could tell that he had been in your flat. That was your one safe space again the world and for him to be in it without your permission felt like he was violating an unwritten rule. It wasn’t as though he had done anything dreadful (at least in the beginning) but it felt odd. When you walked in after a long day’s work and smelt his cologne or to wake up to a basket of your favourite pastries. It felt oddly intimate and you hated it.

However, things took a turn for the worse in the summer and when you finally decided to put an end to your single life. The date had gone well, very well, and you were looking forward to meeting him again. You had been so elated that you didn’t register that someone was in your flat until it was too late. You were slammed against your front door, Zemo’s arm across you neck. He was breathing heavily and his eyes half lidded. The warning was clear and he pressed harshly against you before letting you go. You collapsed at his feet gasping for air. When you tried to stand he put a hand on top of your head and pushed you down saying,

“Pets should remain at my feet and on their knees.”

The threat was clear but you were stupid enough to ignore it. You continued seeing your date until the notes arriving. The threats, warning you to stop seeing your boyfriend unless you never wanted to see him again, telling you (in explicit detail) exactly what he wanted to do to you. The handwritten notes made you blush as you read the graphic details and you swiftly crumpled them up and threw them away. This did nothing to stop him and it actually increased the frequency of the notes. But the one that made your blood turn to ice was one of the shortest. You stood rooted to the stop as you took in the neat script.

You have one week to come to me, pet.

It terrified you. The violent and lustful words written in such neat handwriting was an unsettling juxtaposition. You knew you should break up with your boyfriend for his own safety but much like everything else you had acted it was too late. You had turned on the news one morning and you dropped your coffee mug in shock. As you saw your boyfriend’s face on the screen and the news report calming stating details of the unsolved murder, you knew you had to leave.

It was late when you finally re-entered your flat after speaking with the police. It had taken longer than expected but at least now you were crossed off their list of suspects. You poured yourself a glass of water and took a large sip before putting it down and rushing to your bedroom. You grabbed your suitcase and started shoving clothes into it. You didn’t care what you took just as long as you left as soon as possible. You ran back into the living and paused. You stared wide eyed and slowly looked over your shoulder. A piece of paper was neatly tucked under the glass. With shaking hands you unfolded the notes and collapsed onto the sofa when you read it.

I warned you.

You finished the water in one gulp, grabbed your bag and left your flat and life behind. You ran out of your flat not caring who saw you. You needed to get as far away as possible but you knew it was too late. Zemo had you in his grasp and he was not going to let you go that easily. You shuddered as you felt his piercing gaze on you, even though you couldn’t see him, and you ducked into an alley in the hopes of losing him in the backstreets. You knew you had fucked up when the sounds of the city became muffled and all you could hear was your own laboured breathing and the soft click of slowly approaching footsteps. You took a sharp left and let out a cry of frustration when you ran into a dead end. You closed your eyes and felt the tears run down your face as you heard Zemo stop at the entrance to the passageway.

“Commendable effort,” he said walking towards you, “But really pointless.”

“Please,” you said quietly, “Please just let me go.”

“I can’t do that,” Zemo pressed his body up against your back, “I’ve given up so much for you already.”

Zemo put one hand on your shoulder and pushed you towards the wall. You let out a cry as you were pushed roughly against it and Zemo caged you in with his body. A fresh set of tears fell down your face as you felt his arousal against you. You shook your head as Zemo pressed a trail of kisses down your neck.

“This wasn’t how I intended things to go,” he said against your shoulder, “I wanted to take you away from this place, to take you in my bed. To shower you in the love and affection that had been denied all your life. You would want for nothing and all I require is one thing.”

You didn’t answer and one of Zemo’s hands snaked up and clasped itself around your throat. He squeezed harshly and you gasped in shock.

“For you to do everything I say,” he hissed, “To give me everything.”

Zemo’s other hand ghosted along the waistband of your jeans. You tensed before trying to shake him off. Even though you should’ve had super strength you found yourself weakened and you heard Zemo chuckle darkly.

“Is something the matter?” he asked mockingly, “You should be stronger than I am.”

The sickening realisation of what he did settled in the pit of your stomach.

“You drugged me.” You said weakly

“An unfortunate necessary,” he said, “But for me to take what I want I had to do it. If you had just come with me willingly, like I asked you to,” he squeezed your neck again and you whimpered, “It wouldn’t have been like this. I would’ve been gentle. I would’ve given you everything but instead you forced me to do this.”

His hand delved into your jeans and his fingers rubbed harshly against you. You cried out at the sudden sensation and Zemo cooed in mock sympathy.

“See how much easier things would be if you just submitted, mein Liebling,” he said, knowing how much you hated that nickname, “You would’ve been in a soft, warm, bed and not pushed up against this wall and being taken like a whore.”

“Please,” you sobbed, “Stop.”

Once against Zemo tightened his grip around your neck, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

“If I were you,” he said quietly, “I would be quiet. Pets don’t talk back to their masters.”

Much to your horror Zemo didn’t ease his grip. His fingers continued to work roughly against you and when they circled against your entrance you tried to squirm away. However, there was nowhere to go. When you moved back you brushed against Zemo and you shuddered when you heard his soft moans.

“Already aching for me,” he said, “I can feel how wet you’re getting for me.”

“Stop.” You said weakly

“Never,” he bit your earlobe, “You need to learn your place in this world. Your place which is in my bed, under me, by my side.”

Each word was punctuated by his fingers slowly swirling around you. You shook your head and he growled before shoving a finger inside you.

“So tight,” he hissed, “So ready for me. You want me don’t you.”

“No.”

“Then why are you so wet.”

Any other time you would’ve gone on about biology but at this current moment, with his hand around your neck, you couldn’t get the words out. You didn’t need to see him to know that he was giving you the same mocking smile that haunted your nightmares.

“You want me,” he said as he slowly moved his finger in and out, “You need me. You crave this. What you need is for someone to take you in hand. To show you proper discipline and to raise you up to your fullest potential. Is what I’m asking for in return really that much? Your freedom for the world?”

Zemo loosened his grip and you gasped for air. His hand moved to your chin and tilted your head back so you were looking into his eyes.

“I don’t want the world,” you said, “I just want to live my life in peace.”

“I can give you peace,” Zemo said resting his forehead against yours, “I can give you everything.”

His fingers stilled and you whimpered at the loss of movement. He smirked at your reaction and briefly swiped his thumb over your clit. You jumped in his arms and let out a soft moan. In a flash Zemo had spun you around and pushed your back against the wall. His fingers started moving again and you gasped in pleasure.

“Just give in,” he said, “Just give in to me. I know you want to, my pet.”

“N… no.”

“Yes,” he hissed, “You do. There’s no point in fighting what we both know you want. What you need.”

“I don’t need you!”

“Yes you do,” he growled, “You just need to give into your desires and I will teach you to obey. Pets like you need discipline.”

“I don’t need-“

“I know what is best for you,” he continued, “I know what you need.”

Zemo roughly added another finger and our hands flew to his shoulders. You bit your lip to try and prevent yourself from moaning. Zemo removed his hand from your neck and pulled your lip free. He looked at you lips for a moment before leaning forward and capturing them in a rough and bruising kiss.

You tried to struggle free but Zemo firmly tangled a hand in your hair and kept you close against him. You refuse to open your mouth for him and Zemo growled against your lips. In response to your refusal to submit he brushed his thumb over your clit again. You gasped in pleasure and Zemo seized the opportunity to fully dominate you. You closed your eyes and tried to pretend that this wasn’t happening, praying that someone would find you and save you, but Zemo was making it impossible. He broke the kiss and placed a soft, mockingly loving, kiss at the corner of your mouth.

“Disobedient pets need training,” he said, “Time and patience is necessary but don’t worry,” his lips brushed along yours again, “We’re going to have all the time in the world.”

Your eyes flew open as Zemo added a third finger. Your hands tightened their grip on his shoulders and you collapsed against him feeling yourself get close. Zemo’s free hand stroked your hair and he whispered against your ear,

“There is no shame in giving into your desires. To take what you crave with the one person who can give it to you. I understand you, know you, better than anyone else. That boy you called your lover wasn’t fit for you.”

“He wasn’t… we never…”

“Good,” he said, “I would hate it if someone else touched you before me. It means that I can shape you into my perfect little pet. Keep you tied up and needy just for me. I’ll have you constantly on edge until you are begging for me. Tied up in my, sorry,” he chuckled darkly, “Our bed. By the end you’ll be pleading for me. You will come to me willingly or I’ll keep you bound and naked until you do.”

Your breathing became heavier as you felt the orgasm build up in you. Zemo exhaled deeply through his nose and rested his head on your shoulder.

“You’ve been a very bad little pet,” he said, “And I did think that deserves a punishment don’t you?”

You let out a cry of frustration as Zemo roughly pulled his fingers out of you. You sobbed at you lack of release and Zemo stroked your head in mock comfort. His hand moved from the back of your head to you chin as he forced you to look into his eyes. You wishes you had the strength to look away but you didn’t. You felt yourself started to fall and Zemo’s arm encircled around your waist and held you close to his chest.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, “Behave yourself and I won’t have to do that again. Soon you’ll learn how beneficial it will be to give in and forget about your concerns. It will just be you, me and our perfect family.”

You tried to push Zemo away again, the thought of being forced to have a family with him renewing your determination to get away. However, the sharp pain in your neck swiftly put a stop to your escape attempt. Your limbs started to feel like they were made out of lead and all you were able to do was collapse as your knees buckled under you. Zemo held you in his arms and gently cradled you as darkness took over. Just as you slipped into unconsciousness the last thing you saw was Zemo’s smiling face and soft whispers of how you were going to be perfect for him.

#fanfiction #mcu #fatws #reader insert #zemo #zemo x reader #dark!zemo #dark!zemo x reader #dark #tw: noncon #tw: choking

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hyenahunt · 2 years

Text

Secret Service: GLOBALISM - 10

Writer: Akira

Season: Winter

Characters: Madara, Gatekeeper, Hiyori, Jun

Proofreading: bakemonoremy (JP) & Skyress (ENG)

Translation: haranami & hyenahunt

Hiyori: Forget that useless moon, I'm the sun of this earth and in the name of myself I will punish you!

Location: Temple Zero

Madara: Still, there’s just one thing I really don’t get.

Gatekeeper: What is it, Mikejima?

Madara: I gain a lot from cooperating with you. After making leaps and bounds of progress in SS, the idol industry’s biggest festival, I’ll be able to join the ranks of the country’s top idols.

But what do you get out of this?

Gatekeeper: ……

Madara: I kidnapped Ran Nagisa-san, just as you instructed.

As soon as he set foot into the basement of these abandoned ruins — Temple Zero — I blocked off the exit.

That’s why I packed a buuunch of stuff that’d come in handy as a barricade into the back of the truck. That went pretty much as planned.

Gatekeeper: That’s right. My original plan was to lock that boy, Ibara, underground, but it’d be more advantageous to have Nagisa-sama take his place…

So I changed our plans last minute and had you kidnap him instead.

Madara: You call him Nagisa-sama? Even though he’s a lot younger than you?

Gatekeeper: You’re much too casual with your elders… The Boss would always get mad at me if I wasn’t polite to Nagisa-sama, so that habit’s stuck with me till now.

Madara: Hahaha. I wonder which of us is really being controlled here?

Gatekeeper: I’m doing this out of my own will. Anyways, you’ve done your job well.

You successfully managed to bring your target here, and then you threw him into the basement like we agreed.

All you need to do is keep things this way till I give you the okay. Once that’s done, you’ll be able to formally accept a ticket to SS’s finals.

Madara: Hahaha. This was a pretty cushy job. But that’s exactly why I can’t wrap my head around it… What was the point of all this?

Gatekeeper: You’ll understand sooner or later. Let’s agree to not pry too deeply into each other’s affairs — it’d be annoying if we ended up stepping on any landmines.

We both benefited from this. That’s good enough, isn’t it? In fact, that’s exactly what business dealings are about.

Madara: Well, I can’t deny that. Mission complete, I guess~♪

Don’t go breaking your promise now, Gatekeeper. I destroyed all the rapport I’d been building up with Ibara-san just to join forces with you.

If even you ended up casting me away as a mere tool, I’d be in a real bind.

Gatekeeper: Haha. I’m sure you’ve more or less prepared for that, though. You’re a cunning kid, that’s for sure. Feels like I might actually become a fan of yours.

If there ever comes a time when you can’t continue being an idol, come over to my side. I’ll make good use of you.

It’d be a damn shame to squander your talents and skills on appealing to the foolish masses. Why let yourself waste away as a slave when you could rule over everyone with your own two hands?

Madara: You really couldn’t care less about idols, huh?

Hiyori: Ahahahahaha! ☆

Gatekeeper: …?! Whoa! What the hell? When did he get here?

Madara: Is that Tomoe Hiyori from Eden? Uh…?

Jun: Hold up — This is dangerous, Ohii-san! This temple roof looks like it'd crumble any moment! Why wouldja go climbing up...!?

Hiyori: Hmm~? Well, the leading role ought to have the flashiest entry out of everyone! And as long as I say the word, then buildings shall never crumble, the sun shall rise from the west and flowers shall bloom forever!

Jun: What, you fancy yourself a god or something!?

Hiyori: God comes second to the ever-remarkable Hiyori Tomoe! Halt right there, you scoundrels! Even if the heavens may forgive you — I, Hiyori Tomoe, shall not!

You attacked my precious family with malice in your hearts, and I'll have you know the sin of that weighs heavier than the Earth itself!

Forget that useless moon, I'm the sun of this earth and in the name of myself I will punish you!

Now be good and turn yourselves in...!

Madara: ……

Gatekeeper: What does this idiot think he’s doing?

Jun: I hate to break it to ya, but this idiot here, he's one of ES's Big Three, and basically one of the industry's best and top-tier idols. How's that make you feel? Feeling like you're in deep shit yet?

Hiyori: What on Earth do you mean by that, Jun-kun!?

Gatekeeper: (Huh? Seriously, what the hell is going on? I didn’t plan for this to happen. That’s Tomoe Hiyori and Sazanami Jun from Eden, isn’t it? They were supposed to be on stand-by in Kyushu, so what’re they doing in Shikoku?)

(No, why are they here, of all places? That boy Ibara abandoned Nagisa-sama in the blink of an eye so he could save his own hide — did he manage to call them over? They arrived far too quickly, though.)

(And, besides, I doubt Ibara would do anything of the sort. He’s just like the Boss; he wouldn’t want to get his precious, beloved idols dirty.)

(There’s no way he’d tell Eve, the unit he created with such care, to jump headfirst into this gambling den.)

(What’s going on, then? What’s the meaning of all this? Dammit, I just can’t fathom what these kids are thinking!)

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#enstars #enstars translation #ensemble stars #s: secret service #era: !!#type: event #hyenahunttl #madara mikejima #gatekeeper enstars #jun sazanami #hiyori tomoe

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c-is-for-circinate · 3 years

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So uh, would the end of runs count as an escalation of the abuse? Like Ik it's a last resort to stop Zagreus from leaving, but it also shows that he has no qualms with hurting Zag to get what he wants.

I definitely had not yet gotten to the end of a run when you sent this ask, nonny, and I was all set to scold you gently for spoilery stuff, but you were actually trying very hard to be nonspecific and this only pinged as a spoiler because I was already pretty sure how things were going to end anyway. So good job trying to be vague! I have now fought through to what is fairly clearly the final boss, and my answer is, categorically, ABSOLUTELY FUCKING YES.

(We are going to just keep putting Hades posts under cuts until they stop being about a parent abusing their kid! I realize this helps nobody on mobile and I am tagging for that purpose but hey, at least I might save someone's dash! I swear I will talk about other things in this game eventually! Until then, once again, CW abuse.)

It’s not even about the violence, entirely. Like, yes, it’s about the violence--but Hades has shown all along that he has no qualms with hurting Zag (with killing him, over and over again) to get what he wants. Even if we take most of the enemies we’re facing as general nuisances of the zones we travel through, and not Hades’ doing (and oh, if Hades wanted he could give Zagreus a safe escort through those zones in an instant), there are obstacles put in our way that are obviously and deliberately commanded by Hades to stop us at all costs. The level bosses, for one. (Also, remember the Hades voiceovers we get at every ‘survive for 45 seconds’ level?) He wants us to stop. He wants us to die, and yes we’ll come back, but he’s still setting his employees to hurt us, so like, that’s very much a thing to begin with.

The fact that he’s willing to take up arms against us and kill us himself probably feels like a big escalation to Hades personally. What really gets me is the dialogue. “I have always kept my temper, unlike you.” Wildly revisionist history, placing all of the blame for what’s about to happen on Zagreus the victim for ‘making me do this’. The absolute disgust and disdain, when he finally gets us. “I have slain titans, boy.” He’s spent a lot of time throwing scathing remarks in our general direction, wanting us to bow under them, being blandly sarcastic and self-satisfied and smug, but he's never sounded like that.

Because, before now, he thought we couldn’t do what we set out to do. He thought our suffering as we tried was its own punishment, and he enjoyed watching that punishment. He did not watch us fail with the affectionate resignation of a parent watching a child learn a harsh lesson. He watched us and gloated.

The thing that infuriates him now is not that we’re trying to do the thing we literally said we were trying to do ninety-eight runs ago at the start of the game. He could have stopped us from trying at any time. Hypnos to put us to sleep. Literal chains. Had he bothered for five seconds to actually step into the courtyard beyond our room, we could be disarmed and helpless. But it’s fun for him to watch us fail, and it proves that he’s right about us and how pathetic we are, and it reassures him that he’s right about the universe, that nobody can escape from Hades, that we are stupid and foolish and weak. What drives him to such absolute fury now is not that we’re trying, but the fact that we’re about to succeed. We’re going to prove him wrong, prove that he was wrong about how he handled this situation in the first place, and that’s flatly unacceptable.

There is no interpretation of this fight that does not include Hades wanting us to feel inferior, subjugated, crushed. It’s not about keeping us in his realm. It’s about breaking us, for daring to try to escape in the first place.

No matter why he’s doing it. And let’s get into that for a sec, the “it’s a last resort to stop Zagreus from leaving” bit. At this point in the game, I don’t know why Hades is so desperate to stop Zag from leaving. I haven’t found out yet! Don’t tell me! Don’t hint about it! But from where I’m standing, I can see, hmm, five main possibilities?

He is trying to protect Zagreus from something on the surface.

He is trying to protect the world from Zagreus, whose arrival out of hell will destroy something/everything in some magic way that Hades knows about but keeps secret.

Zagreus is actually a prisoner, meant to be chained in the Underworld for crimes he doesn’t remember committing, Tisiphone is right, and we were meant to be as condemned as Sisyphus all along but Hades has been generous.

Hades made it law a long time ago that nobody and nothing escapes the Underworld, and Zagreus cannot be allowed to break that law because nobody breaks Hades’ laws, period. He could have chosen to make an exception but he did not, so all of this is flagrantly illegal and needs to be punished.

Hades himself is trapped in the Underworld, or at least feels that way, and is projecting and taking it out on his kid.

My best guess is that it’s some combination of a few of those (like, I am fairly sure that #5 is absolutely true no matter what other reasons are in place as well). Thing is? While I’m curious about this mystery for the story’s sake, I also really fundamentally do not care.

Any one of these things could better have been accomplished by telling Zagreus literally anything. Even if there’s magic and prophecy bullshit binding Hades away from explaining the whole truth, it is not hard to hint at vague disaster befalling innocent bystanders “because of cosmic reasons I am beholden to keep secret”. Hell, Hades’ own life becomes easier if he restrains himself just the tiniest bit in an effort to make Zagreus not want to leave in the first place. Hades clearly does not want this to be happening! He doesn’t seem to regret any of his actions, but he sure is annoyed and infuriated that he has to go through the trouble of doing them. Literally one explanation could solve so much.

If the reason is to protect Zagreus? Then it is one thousand times bullshit, and I think the game knows that. (The game has to know that.) When your kid is so miserable that they’d rather flee straight into traffic to escape you, then your kid is not safe. Nothing that could hurt him on the surface--finding out that Persephone doesn’t love him and never did and in fact wants him dead and tortured for eternity--is any worse than what he’s facing down here. He already knows one parent feels that way. At least out of the Underworld he has the option to find some relatives who don’t.

And yet this situation doesn’t ping the “stupid plot that could never happen because it entirely rests on unrealistically shitty communication” sensors. Because it absolutely, categorically makes sense for the Hades we’ve come to know to refuse to explain himself. Whether he’s got good reasons or bad ones, HIS WORD IS LAW, and how dare anybody ask him to justify or clarify it, ever.

I am very very sure that Hades has lots of reasons: reasons for being furious, and bitter, and for making rules about his son never leaving the Underworld, and for being so desperate to enforce those rules, and for all of it. Some of them may even be good. What makes him an abuser, what those reasons do not and cannot justify, is the verbal and physical violence he uses against the people in his care to cope with those problems.

#asked and answered #cw abuse #LIKE VERY CW ABUSE #hades game #hades spoilers #C plays stuff #I swear to GOD at some point I will talk about other stuff with this game #it does such interesting things with Greek mythology!#it is SO COOL how they use the metastructure of a roguelike #as an ENHANCEMENT of the story they want to tell #so that game dynamics and story elements are one and the same #there is so much to say #but #we are back here again #because apparently this is just where my brain lives rn #it's REALLY COMPELLING ok #Anonymous

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

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Hello! I absolutely loved the feelings for the young liaison team kids, may I request some more of those please? With Megs, Roddy and Drift? (Maybe Cyclonus, if you don't mind as well?) thank you very much!

I love how so many asks want the bots to more or less adopt children who adopt them in turn, because that kind of softness is what our bots DESERVE. Rodimus, Drift (and Rung!) have their post here, the original is here, and below I'll have dear Megs and Cyclonus getting their dad vibes.

Megatron

·When the liaison program was decided upon, his presence on the ship had required some... additional precautions be taken, in order to convince the humans that any visitors to the Lost Light would be safe. Said measures had consisted mostly of him being warned repeatedly, both in and out of official correspondence, that he was to never be alone with the humans. Doing so or taking any other actions that made the humans feel even moderately unsafe would result in swift punishment. He'd understood every bit of the security measures, annoying as they were repetitive, and endeavored to follow them. Seeing young members of a species he'd attempted to exterminate wasn't something he wanted to seek out anyway. Thus, he'd been quite purposefully unavailable when the group came onboard.

·Massive as the ship is, however, he'd been unable to elude the liaisons forever. On one fateful day he'd encountered all of them by chance, and thankfully there had been other bots around to ensure Ultra Magnus wouldn't throw him in the brig for breaking any promises. The humans had looked just as surprised as he had to see the former Decepticon leader staring down at them. To their credit though, and his shock, they hadn't fled screaming in an instant. Rather, they'd cautiously approached him as a unit. The boldness had been so unexpected he'd actually felt quite like fleeing himself once they'd started asking questions. With the other Autobots around he'd been forced to stand his ground, and thankfully the humans hadn't been nearly as aggressive as he'd been expecting, keeping most of their questions in the realm of polite but naive curiosity. Perhaps the Fools Energon was simply getting in his head, but he'd walked away from the encounter believing it to have been... pleasant.

·At the next chance meeting, made possible by everyone on the ship relaxing his restrictions, he's admittedly a little happy to see the liaisons. It happens in Swerve's bar, and they're actually able to converse with minimal oversight. The opportunity to get to know humans in depth is one he explores with caution though. Despite his current goal of righting past wrongs, he can't simply undo what he attempted to carry out on this species, as friendly as the young humans are to him. Knowing that fact is what makes him ache despite the pleasant conversation. They talk of their dreams, and ask him about innocent things in return, with particular fascination for his size and strength. Such bright and vivid souls, that he was once utterly indifferent to... How many brilliant lives like them did he snuff out without a care?

·Yet he keeps talking to the little ones whenever the opportunity presents itself. They might be some of the first beings to speak so casually to him in eons, and once they start asking about politics... Well, he can't resist sharing the beliefs he'd once thought too optimistic. As always, each liaison proves a spirited debate expert, despite being small enough to fit comfortably in his palm. Ignoring the rules, they often end up doing just that, though it's more for convenience as he doesn't want them to strain themselves shouting to be heard. Inevitably the restrictions on him loosen to the point he actually begins sitting with them gathered across his massive frame like birds on an oversized but comfortable tree, and through them he gets little samples of earth life in the form of stories and videos on their communication devices.

·It's the happiest he's ever been, and that's probably why he inevitably caves to his self loathing, the joy these little ones bring him forcing back memories of his many crimes against their kind. Even seeing them is a right he shouldn't feel so entitled to. For their sake, he decides to avoid them going forward, to protect them from himself and his legacy in addition to the weight of his conscience. Of course, the liaisons very quickly notice that they aren't seeing him around and one day decide to seek out answers. To his surprise, he fails to simply explain himself through a gentle lie when they eventually find him, as if their faces compel him to speak truthfully. He breaks and reminds them of what he is and what he's done, and that staying away is for their own good, especially considering he can hardly be trusted. As always, they surprise him.

·In total agreement, they all reassure him of a few things. First is that they're all well aware of who he is and what he's done. Second is that they knew that when they decided to approach him, and that his efforts to redeem himself have not gone unnoticed, which is why they've bonded with him as they have. They made the choice to get to know him, and while they can't speak for the many factors of the Cybertronian conflict beyond their understanding, they are allowed to decide they like who he is here and now. Had he a less hardened spark, their words would have made him weep. Instead, he quietly thanks them and promises to think on what they've said. In the end, he honors their decision by returning to the locations they expect him, and they continue as they did before. This time, however, he's more than just gentle while they clamber over him. He's protective as only a bot of his size can be to beings he truly appreciates as his found family.

Cyclonus

·The emotion he felt upon learning of the incoming liaisons was best summarized as "mild curiosity" at best. Not that he looked down upon the incoming crewmembers, but he just didn't think them worthy of much fuss, and only intended to learn enough to effectively avoid them going forward. A not so subtle warning not to intimidate them with his appearance cemented the emotion. On the day of their arrival, he met the whole group quite by chance during their introductory tour, and to his chagrin each one was fascinated by him in particular. Unable to even tell them apart at first, he'd been somewhat placated by their curiosity for things his own kind often overlooks. For the sake of cultural preservation, he decides that answering their questions won't be too much of a burden if done from time to time.

·Now reasonably well settled amongst the crew, he doesn't find it too hard to handle the socialization with multiple humans at once, though admittedly he's a little concerned when he learns of their age. Allowing what are essentially slow developing protoforms to explore on an alien vessel seems... irresponsible. Yet their youth does explain their energy, especially as they ask him many questions about topics he enjoys speaking of, starting with his accent leading to a grand recounting of Tetrahexian history. Unlike so many bots, they gladly listen to him go on about the glory days. Their little eyes go wide as he recounts technological wonders long gone. Had he less control it would have brought a smile to his face, especially when he lets slip his knowledge of the Old Cybertronian language and soon has a whole group begging to learn it.

·While he's hardly gone soft, he does allow the humans a touch more... freedom, in how they interact with him compared to others. They even enjoy the privilege of resting atop his shoulders or in his arms, though that's purely to save his back the strain of constantly bending down to their height. Any bot that says otherwise is swiftly reminded of his combat prowess. He begins to learn each human's unique personality and quirks in time, especially how some are better with history and others excelled at language. Learning bits about their own culture was surprisingly interesting as well, with pictures and videos of long gone human civilizations proving that some of Earth's occupants had decent aesthetic taste.

·Without knowing it, he more or less avoided discussing his own past with the little group, gently steering the conversation each time it ventured too close to the personal. The reason became blindly apparent when they learned of his former affiliation and the crimes he'd committed while sworn to it. Though not present for the revelation, he's certain of their reaction being one of fear and disgust, and immediately withdraws from the crew to hole himself up. Emotions too powerful to stifle force him to isolate for the sake of what remains of his pride. Not even knowing how exactly the humans found out, he's not particularly inclined to discover the manner, as the damage has been done. Admittedly, he was foolish to assume it wouldn't happen sooner.... Regardless, he knows he can never face them again.

·Unbeknownst to him, the revelation was a mistake, and one not met with any particular judgement. The liaisons were only concerned when he failed to appear at standard places of meeting, and as a unit agreed to check up on the bot they'd all come to admire. It had taken all of them knocking to get a coherent response through the door, and Cyclonus had cursed himself for being unable to simply tell them to leave, his spark indeed proving too soft at the sight of them all together. When he'd allowed the group inside, the last thing he'd been expecting was a coordinated embrace between the lot of them, but that had proven to be their tactic straight away. It had proven cunning and effective. A plurality of reasons for his shame had melted in the face of open hearted acceptance, with the entire group promising that who he had been mattered little compared to who he was now. To prevent a humiliating display of tears he'd accepted their assurance without fuss, but had indeed been convinced by the sheer strength of their conviction to continue meeting them for their little talks. Despite himself, he'd actually smiled the first time reuniting with them afterwards, his demeanor growing warmer in their presence from then on as he promised to himself no harm would ever befall them. They had accepted him, and he would do the same in return. Nothing in his past had ever compared to the treasure of simply knowing them.

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lostlight #lost light #ll #idw #tf #my writing #my asks #anon #requests #liaisons #human reader #self insert #megatron #cyclonus

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queerderpyturtle · 3 years

Text

some old rambles about discord and starswirl that I dug up

I been thinkin. Bout Discord and Starswirl. And how they probably knew each other. And what their relationship could've been. And what that means for the rest of their arcs in the show.

From what we know (and what I remember) Discord came into power after Starswirl and the pillars were sent to Limbo, but Celestia and Luna started ruling Equestria sometime between those two events, because they were too young to remember or care about the other pillars, but they banished Discord.

We don't know a lot about Discord's past, but I imagine that when he first came to Equestria (at which point I assume he was fairly young by draconequus standards), he wasn't exactly given a warm welcome. Ponies were probably absolutely terrified of this horse-headed, bat-winged, lion-pawed, snake-tailed freak of nature, and there's a good chance they would've driven him out of town full force. His first taste of ponykind was rejection.

So, later, he tries again. He makes himself a pony disguise-- a handsome unicorn stallion named Atlas-- and sets off to learn more about Equestria. And it works! He's able to make friends, live amongst ponies, and study Equestria magic. He actually gets pretty good at doing through his unicorn horn, so much so that he manages to get into a prestigious magic school for gifted unicorns. "Atlas" is of course still a troublemaker, though. He pulls pranks, annoys his teachers, breaks the rules, and just generally has no respect for authority. And why should he? The entire society that Equestria is built on is corrupt beyond all belief, stuck in its ways, and downright hostile towards any creature outside of it. They didn't deserve his damn respect. Equestria itself was fairly new as well, and the ponies themselves were still getting used to each other. It was all one giant powderkeg, and Atlas was honestly excited to see what would happen when it went off. So he stuck around, if only to cause more chaos in this personal playpen country of his. If he wasn't the best student in all of his classes, his teachers probably would've strangled him after a day.

And then one day, he found himself in a class with the famous Odin Starswirl, a magically gifted unicorn with a penchant for proving others wrong and keeping a clear head while doing it. He was proper, eloquent, studious, respectable-- a perfect pony for Atlas to torment. Except it turns out that Odin is ridiculously, insufferably hard to annoy. When Atlas knocked over his books, or spilled water on his cloak, or made fun of his sloppy hornwriting, Odin simply responded with a sigh and a quick cantrip to fix whatever the stallion had ruined with his antics. This did not please Atlas at all. He spent more time hanging around Odin than he did hanging out with his more troublesome buddies, just to try and get a rise out of him. But he never could. If anything, they were becoming... friends. Atlas's biting remarks turned into light-hearted jabs and playful scoldings.

"Odin, for heaven's sake, if you don't take a break from studying to shave for once in your damn life, I'm going to have to start calling you Starswirl the Bearded!"

His destruction of property turned into casual acts of kindness.

"Yes, I brought your saddlebag. I knew you'd forget it, you scatterbrain. We're lucky you even remember to eat."

His contempt for Odin's huffy nature turned into giving the unicorn an easy out for boring social events hosted by his equally uppity parents.

"C'mon, Stars, let's get out of here. I know a place nearby that sells elderberry tea."

"You know I can't leave. This is an important party."

"Important to whom, exactly, my dear?"

"To my parents!"

"Your parents. Well, last time I checked, they weren't you."

"...Fine. Thirty minutes, and then you're bringing me back."

Before long, Odin was regularly sneaking off to join Atlas and his friends on their escapades. He found himself strangely drawn to the unicorn, in spite of-- or maybe because of his rebellious and carefree nature. He was so different from the ponies Odin was used to, so sure of himself, so headstrong. Odin would be a fool to say he wasn't slowly getting attached to the scoundrel.

Atlas noticed this, of course. He was honestly surprised! Who knew a straight-edged young scholar like Odin would be so willing to stray from the path of monotony? And that was all Atlas wanted. To cause a little chaos in Odin's life. It wasn't as if there were moments in which he looked at the unicorn and considered giving up his whole scheme to enjoy a happy life alongside his... friend? Companion? Fellow associate? Lord, what even where they? Atlas had never really had a friend that was interested in any part of him other than the chaotic part, and Discord hadn't had any friends at all. He took a leap of faith one day to ask Odin if they were, in fact, friends, and Odin responded with an aloof "Yes, I do believe so." And that was that, wasn't it? He had a friend. A real friend.

Over the next few years, Odin and Atlas became inseparable. It was a thing to see, the two of them trotting down the streets of Canterlot together. They couldn't have been more different, from the way they walked to the way they spoke, but they were as close as ponies could get. Odin gave Atlas a safe place to practice magic, study Equestrian history, and discuss the library's old scrolls and texts from ancient unicorns. Atlas gave Odin an out from his mundane life as a trophy child of the wealthy Starswirl family. When Odin started tutoring two unicorn fillies with promising skills in arcane magics, Atlas was the first of Odin's friends he introduced them to (the fillies lovingly started referring to the stallions as their honorary uncles). When Atlas accidentally used too much sticking potion in a prank and stuck one of his teachers to the side of the school for three days, Odin helped him sneak into the Starswirl mansion to hide, scolding him between laughs the whole way. They each saw more in each other than the average pony could ever see; Odin was more than a prodigy, and Atlas was more than an annoyance.

And if there were, perhaps, by some miracle, some hint of... romance beneath their friendship that neither side would admit to, well. That was their own business. If they enjoyed cuddling up on the couch to read from the same book, nopony needed to know. If they relished each "accidental" brush of hooves or tails when they walked together, nopony would be any the wiser. If Odin longed for the day when Atlas would use those strong forearms of his to pin the stallion against the nearest wall and just kiss him already, and felt more alive than he'd ever felt in his life when Atlas finally did...

Then maybe that was just fine. And for a while, it was. But there was always that itch at the back of Atlas's mind, that knowledge that their relationship was fleeting, because it was all, in truth, based on a lie. If Odin found out who Atlas really was, what Atlas really was, it would all crumble to pieces like a biscuit that had been left out in the sun. Atlas... no, Discord hated that the thought of losing Odin-- a simple pony whose life was a speck of dust in his immortal existence, who would be a pile of ashes in the ground before Discord had even had his second molt-- made him so unreasonably upset. He'd known going into this that becoming invested in the lives of the ponies in Equestria was foolish. He'd never meant for it to get this far. He'd come here to futz with the government a bit, maybe start a few riots or terrorize a few queens. He never wanted to find Odin. So why wasn't he willing to let him go?

Shit, he really was in too deep.

And yet, Atlas and Odin found themselves ever-so-slowly, but ever-so-surely falling in love.

But nothing gold can stay.

Odin had always known Atlas was a bit of an anarchist. It was one of the things he admired about the stallion-- his ability to let go of the norms that Equestria had built for itself and be his own pony. The problem was that Atlas seemed to have a problem with how Equestria treated creatures who weren't ponies. Griffons, yaks, kirin, and the like. Equestria had never been a big trading country, or a big socializing-with-other-nations country. They kept to themselves. Of course, this meant that xenophobia was rampant, and that the fear of the outside world was instilled into the hearts of almost every pony there. But why should Atlas care so much?

Odin asked him as much when the two stallions were studying together in Odin's room, and Atlas became noticeably more tense. He gave Odin a simple "I just think it's wrong," hoping to avoid the subject, but Odin pressed him for more details. Sure, Equestria was problematic, but all in all, it was a good country. Was there really anything so bad about wanting to keep it the way it was? Atlas tried to keep himself from snapping, tried to keep himself from saying something he'd regret, but hearing these things from a pony he loved hurt him deeply.

"It's not about tradition or preservation, Odin. It's about the fact that Equstria has never been willing to change. Before the unifications of the species, it was conflict between the pony species. After, it was conflict between the classes. Now, it's conflict between countries. Just because the problems are external doesn't mean they aren't there," Atlas told him.

"But it isn't exactly a pressing matter. It hardly effects us at all. I guess I just don't understand," Odin replied.

"Of course you don't."

It was said so quietly that Odin couldn't quite tell if he'd been meant to hear it, yet with such venom that he couldn't ignore it. He chanced a confused look and a "What?"

Atlas stood. "Of course you don't," he repeated. "You're the perfect example of a high-class, magically advanced, want-for-nothing unicorn pony. You're perfectly content to live in your little bubble of mediocrity, never trying to do anything to change the world around you. You think there's nothing you can do to help others, so you don't even try. You think they'll sort themselves out. You're complacent, Odin. You've always been."

"Complacent! And just what is wrong with that? I'm doing my best in my own life and I have no responsibility to try and fix the lives of others! Is it so wrong to focus on myself?"

"Of course not! But you can't just pretend that you're the only one with problems! I see it every day, Odin. You act like you're on top of the world, like you're above feeling sorry for others. You don't even care about them. About me!"

Odin looked hurt. "Atlas, I-- of course I care about you! You mean everything to me!"

"And just how much would it take to change that? Telling you my real name isn't Atlas? Telling you I'm not from Equestria? Telling you I look like this?!"

In a flash, Atlas removed all the disguise spells he had on himself, leaving him-- Discord-- in his true form. A long, sleek body covered in brown fur. The misshapen head of a goat, framed by a shaggy black mane and two short horns. Wings, legs, and a tail that had all been taken from different animals, stuck together like a gruesome collage. Odin's eyes trailed up the creature's body slowly, trying and failing to comprehend what he was seeing. He began to back up.

Discord could feel each step he took like knives driving into his heart. Odin was afraid.

The draconequus scoffed. "You're all the same."

"A-Atlas, I..."

"Discord. My name is Discord. I am a draconequus from the tribe of the western Badlands, sent to Equestria to study its magic. When I first came here, I was avoided like the plague. Ponies wanted nothing to do with me. They saw what they were told to see in me-- a monster. A hideous, murderous, blood-thirsty monster. They threw me out because I was different."

Odin was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice trembled. "I think I n-need some time to... to process all of this. Alone."

Discord couldn't have stopped the pain he felt from showing on his face if he'd somehow managed to summon all the magic on the planet. He gritted his teeth, blinked back tears, and disappeared in a shower of sparks.

It was the last conversation he would have with Odin for a millennium.

That night, Odin lay in bed, his mind racing, working overtime to try and figure out what in Tartarus had just happened. Firstly, he and Atlas had just had their first real lovers' spat. Except that those typically didn't lead to one of the ponies involved revealing that he was a creature from a faraway land, but whatever. Secondly, "Atlas" was a draconequus named Discord. That would take some getting used to, of course, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Thirdly, Atlas-- who was actually Discord-- had stormed out in a huff without saying goodbye. Well, that's just how things were sometimes. Nothing to lose sleep over.

When he awoke the next morning, the first though this mind supplied him with was, "Oh sweet merciful heavens I've ruined everything." He rushed to school early, hoping to find his friend (Boyfriend? Lover? Shit, I love him and I just cast him out like an old dish towel), but the stallion was nowhere in sight. Odin asked around, tried everything to get into contact with Atlas/Discord, but nothing came up. He had disappeared off the face of the planet.

Instead of dealing with all the emotional turmoil that came with that situation, Odin threw himself into his studies. His magic grew stronger and stronger, fueled by rage and pain and sadness. He pushed Celestia and Luna to become powerful sorcerers like himself, pouring every hour that he didn't spend practicing magic himself into teaching them. He tried to forget about Discord entirely, and move on. He didn't need some handsome bad-boy keeping him sane to be successful. He only needed himself. That was all he would ever need. Odin was gone. There was only the great and honorable Starswirl the Bearded.

When the sirens invaded Equestria, he agreed to help defeat them. When Stygian came to him looking for friendship that Starswirl hadn't even offered to the other "pillars," he turned him away coldly. When he realized the only way to defeat the Pony of Shadows was by sending the seven of them into limbo, he refused, at least at first. But the citizens of Equestria persisted. He was the great Starswirl, he had a duty to protect them and keep Equestria safe. He tried to tell them that the consequences of the spell were too drastic, but they would not listen. Starswirl had no choice but to go through with it.

Discord, meanwhile, had been staying on the outskirts of Equestria, brooding and cursing Odin's name. When he found out that Odin had vanished, however, and the circumstances of his disappearance... well, he wasn't happy. Despite everything, he still loved the idiot, and he had never wanted something so terrible to happen to him. Odin would have never agreed to something like that without being pushed by the Equestrian citizens. What right did they have to decide who lived and who died? Why did they get to sacrifice their most beloved sorcerer for their own safety when there were other options? Was this the price they paid for harmony?

That wouldn't do. That simply wouldn't do at all. If these pitiful excuses for equines thought the pony of shadows was a threat to their delicate balance, he would show them true chaos. He dethroned the country's leader, took over, and made the ponies of Equestria suffer like he did.

And then Celestia and Luna came along. When had they gotten so big? So powerful? How had they grown wings? Were they seriously going to try and take him down? Lulu and Celly, the sweet little fillies who had once made him flower crowns and taught him songs and invited him to tea parties. They were going to try and make him surrender. How adorable. He wasn't going to fight them, of course-- he still held a great affection for them, no matter how long he'd been gone. He would let them do their little song and dance, and them send them on their way.

Of course it was hard for the sisters, too. They had looked up to Discord back in the day, he and Starswirl both. Now they were using the magic that Starswirl had taught them to defeat someone he had once loved. Someone he probably still loved. But freedom is never free, and the sisters were resigned to their fate. They harnessed the power of the elements of harmony, turned Discord to stone, and hoped silently that someday, somehow, he would return to them, and he and Starswirl would find each other again.

#Mlp #mlp discord #mlp starswirl #Starswirl the bearded #mlp Fanfic #fanfic #felt like throwing this in here too

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hyrule-kingdom-updates · 3 years

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Ok but I have been thinking about this “Astor takes Zelda when she’s young” AU all night like:

So Zelda’s mom dies and Astor gets his astrolabe from Asivus after he fucks with the guardians and [REDACTED] and Astor has his little Calamity agenda all within a shorter amount of time than the span of time in HKU. This is so that Zelda doesn’t have too much knowledge about her role as Hylia’s vessel yet so that when Astor takes her she’s like “dope” and doesn’t really know exactly how important she is. I mean as soon as your mom dies and your dad turns into a dick, the first magic dadstor to come into your radius going like “let’s go vibe somewhere else” I think anyone would accept that.

So the princess is whisked away and the kingdom goes into pure shit and chaos, and Rhoam is left no choice as to basic double, no, triple down on Sheikah tech and the divine beasts, all while sending out searches for the princess—which never come into fruition.

Meanwhile, Zelda grows up with the Yiga Clan as an assassin shes got a sickle and short hair because yeah!! Zavis is still a spy but instead of joining the Yiga Clan to be more useful to Zelda, he joined the Yiga Clan to find her and when he did, since his dad and Zelda are all basically on the same side he doesn’t have really any loyalty to the crown anymore

Now just in case, Astor pretty much lies to Zelda about her past as she grew up, just so that there isn’t a chance she gets dragged back into castle life or anything. “Oh yeah, you were just some little noble girl who’s dad was a dick, and I was friends with your mom before she died so I decided to take you in” and it lines you just enough with what few memories Zelda has of her childhood that she believes it. And ironically, with her loyalty to Astor and the Yiga Clan, she grows to despise royals and laughs at the stories of the missing princess like “ha, what a nerd. Hyrule really is doomed since she dipped from her destiny, what a loser.”

Does Siv team up with Astor earlier since he doesn’t have Zelda to give him hope that he can overcome the Calamity? Maybe. Idk.

So anyways, Zeldas going out doing Yiga things and she meets a knight with a pretty cool looking sword, and she’s like “Oooo imma steal that” and then she tries but she failed because this kid is REALLY skilled. He beats her, but doesn’t kill her when he realizes “You’re just a kid?” Then, they hear someone coming, like a captain or something, and he tosses her a few rupees like “get out of here and go home, the others won’t hesitate to kill a Yiga like you—girl or not”

Now Zelda goes home but she’s PISSED. Not only did she get her ass beat despite being the most badass Yiga she knows, the kid has the audacity to toss her RUPEES as if she was just some common poor thief. What an asshole! But also, she’s super ingrained by him because pretty much her whole life she’s believed the knights and those with the royals are a bunch of ruthless assholes who do nothing but blindly adhere to their commands and rules. So the fuck is with this kid??

She doesn’t tell anyone about this encounter (mostly because she doesn’t want to be yelled at, nor admitting the embarrassing detail of being beaten) but she does tell Zavis about it. And he’s like “pfft. He’s just a kid, btt it give him a few years and he’ll grow up like everyone other asshole out there, trust me”

Then later on, Zelda sneaks out looking for this kid again. And she does, and they kinda cross blades, but mostly she just complains to him about how annoying he is, and she tosses the rupees he gave him back like “I don’t need your pity money!” And they banter for a bit more and eventually she’s like “what’s your name, huh?” And the knight is like “....you don’t know who I am?”

“Oh let me guess, you’re one of the hundreds of people named Link, is that it?”

“Something like that.”

“Well Link, I’m Mallory, and I’m going to kill you now!”

Suddenly Link’s stomach grumbles and he sheathes his sword “Dinner break!”

“WHA—?? Keep fighting me you idiot!”

“Nah...I’m super hungry.”

“What?!?! What’s wrong with you??? I’ll kill you!”

“No you won’t.”

“I will!”

“You’re already breaking a sweat and I’ve been holding back this whole time. Plus, if you wanted to kill me why did you just give me back my rupees when I had my back turned instead of stabbing me? Either you like talking to me, or you suck at your job. Anyways, cucco nugget?”

So they’re kinda friends now.

So time passes and they’re still secret friends, and they like being friends because they “keep it real” as the kids say. Link never admits to her that he’s the hero, but vents about his knight life and his dad who never seems to be happy for him despite his accomplishments. And Zelda vents about her life in the Yiga Clan, and despite being the best, Astor never seems to want her involved in the more important missions and never tells her jackshit”

“Well I guess that’s good for me. Would hate to have the Yiga’s best asset being used.”

“Hey this is serious!! I need to help in the destruction of the royal family with the Calamity!”

“Do you really believe that? That we’re all already doomed?”

“Well yeah. I mean, even if the hero’s around, the princess is dead, so you all don’t stand a chance. But don’t worry, when the Calamity comes I’ll give you a heads up and you can go chill in Faron or something”

Then, things be picking up with Astor and the gang, and he’s finally found an opportunity to kill the hero. And Zelda remembers hearing from Link that he sometimes hangs out with the Champions and the hero for protection, and she’s like, “can I come?” because she wants to be useful, but also to make sure Link doesn’t die or anything. Yet per usual, Astor’s like “No. Just stay here.”

Now Zelda gets super pissed and him and they have a fight, mostly circulating around the fact that Zelda’s been nothing but loyal to the Yiga Clan and yet she nevers gets to actually feel useful and it also put on the sidelines whenever anything actually impactful happens. “Hell, even ZAVIS does more than I do! What’s your problem?! Can’t you have confidence in my for once??”

And Astor in Astor fashion ends the argument super harshly like, “You won’t be ready for anything, ever. You’re still incredibly naive and foolish, so if you want to help, then you can help everyone by staying here, and safe, and away from everyone. THAT is the only thing of use you can do, so do it.” And then they go off to kill the hero and Zelda runs off to her room al frusterated and shit.

But you know, you often meet your destiny on the road you take to avoid it. And this Astor’s little plan to keep Zelda away from Calamity related business so that she can never discover her powers or who she is...is gonna backfire, splendidly.

So Zelda sneaks out anyway, with the idea in her head that if she kills the hero before Astor even gets there he’ll have no CHOICE but to recognize how competent and useful she is and he’ll eat his words!

But then she gets there, and she sees the Champions, and Link, and she goes to confront Link with sickle in hand like, “I don’t need you! Just tell me where the hero is, and I’ll spare the rest of you!” And the Champions are like “wtf” and Link is like, “Just leave. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing! Just tell me where the hero is and no one else has to get hurt.”

And Daruk’s like. “Uhh...but he is the hero?” And everyone glares at Daruk, and Zelda goes into shock, like w h a t. Aw shit..so that fancy sword was the master sword...and he’s so good at fighting because he’s the bloody hERO FUCK, IT’S SO OBVIOUS NOW FUCK.

And I feel like as Zelda is contemplating her life choices in the moment. Revali would attack first because he’s like that. So he shoots her in the shoulder, or something, and she releases Link, and then something something her mask falls of and Urbosa recognizes her because of course she does. And Urbosa’s like “Zelda?!??!?” And Zelda’s like, “Who the fuck are you? Who’s Zelda? I’m Mallory.”

And by that point, Astor is there and he’s like “wtf is going on here.” And he sees Zelda, and he’s like “Mallory get over here right now.” And she hesitates for a moment because she’s right between him and Link.

“Move aside, now. Quickly. We’ll discuss your insolence when we get back home.”

And she’s like “...No.”

“Excuse me?”

“T-There’s no need for this. The princess is dead, right? S-So what’s even the point?”

“We have to ensure victory for Lord Ganon. We’re just making sure there’s no chance of anything happening. There’s no need to defend them, they’re all doomed, they’re all the same. If the hero doesn’t die by my hand, he’ll die by the Calamity’s. So move.”

“You don’t know that!”

And Astor raises and eyebrow because this is basically the first time Zelda has questioned this, ever. “What did you say?”

“I...I said you don’t know everything! You could be wrong!”

And he gives a sad smile and shakes his head. “I know more than you know.”

“I’ll tell you when we’re done here, promise.” And then he does his little malice teleport thing and he’s about to kill Link with a big ol’ malice attack, and Zelda does that reaching out thing like “No!”

And the BOOM. Her powers awaken, and EVERYONES like “oh shIT.” And Link’s the first one to be like, “You’re the princess???” And Astor’s like “hmmmmmmmm....fuck.” And Urbosa’s like, “Ok, I’m gonna stab Astor now.” and then she does! good for her.

And then Zelda is freaking out like what the fuck just happened who huh where what huh and then theres conflict because she doesn’t want Link to die but also his team just sorta stabbed her father figure and then its chaos or something and uhhhhhhhhh yeah that’s all I got I have no idea how this would end.

I feel Zelda wouldn’t go back to the Yiga Hideout after that, in fact I think she might run off with Siv because he’s like “hey, hey, hey. maybe gimme some of that light juice and get the calamity out of my head?” And of course Zavis would go whereever Zelda went (maybe?) She definitly wouldn’t go with the Champions yet, but they’re out looking for her. And also Astor would be looking for her with the Yiga Clan but mostly he’s like “fuck my life.” because literally everything he had been working towards and planning for over a decade has been ruined in like, an hour.

#hku au #hku spoilers

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