#Third Young Master's Sword
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Yandere! Yokai Harem x Reader (III)
On your travels with the two demon companions, you stumble upon a fortified village plagued by monster attacks. It would be quite unlucky if the grand finale happened just as you step foot inside, right? Worry not, you're saved by a third mysterious yokai that you immediately recognize. The harem grows!
Content: female reader, monsters, violence
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Character Guide]
“Alright, how’s this?”
You do a clumsy pirouette before the two yokai men.
“That’s...are you sure?” Kiritsubo eyes you, mildly confused. “It’s usually what men wear.”
Of course, you already know. After weeks of walking through feudal Japan, you’ve reached the conclusion that modern clothing isn’t the most practical choice. Not to mention the strange looks you always get from other people upon your arrival in any village. You needed something to blend in, and the typical fashion for your gender might not be compatible with your training. You’d rather not swing a sword while covered in multiple layers of kimono.
Thus, you opted for the hakama pants typically worn by men. With your hair tied up and in this baggy attire, one could think you’re a young samurai. If they squint enough. You chuckle at the thought.
“She’ll wear whatever allows her to not be a burden.” Murasaki concludes with crossed arms.
One way to put it, you tell yourself.
“If you’re done discussing fashion, we can leave.” The dark-haired man continues with indifference, standing up and adjusting the swords in the folds of his sash.
Both you and Kiritsubo hurry and follow behind obediently.
“Where are we going this time?” You ask sheepishly.
“South-west. An old residence of his, although we will have to pass through a fortified settlement first. We should reach it before sunset.”
It’s hard to imagine you’re the supposed savior in this equation. Murasaki has been leading you by the hand each step, carefully considering every detail on the map, and extensively planning your travels every evening. All this on top of your daily training. You’ve now mastered the basics with the katana he’s provided you, as well as some common prayers for exorcising small-class demons.
You glance at the daisho pair of swords under his belt. A long, thin blade, and a shorter backup version, both in elaborate matching scabbards meant to showcase the status and wealth of the samurai wearing them. In this case, meant to express his rank as the advisor and right hand of the famed onmyōji. You certainly don’t doubt Nakamaro’s decision to rely on Murasaki.
In comparison, Kiritsubo carries a nagamaki at his waist. A comically long blade in your opinion, used mostly to bring down horses during battle. Any regular sword would’ve been too small for him. Despite his imposing appearance, you’ve learned rather quickly just how different Kiritsubo is from the other yokai. He’s quite clumsy in combat, often anxious about making mistakes, terribly apologetic, and overall has a heart too kind for his own good. If there’s hesitation coming from his side, Murasaki immediately follows with his ruthless, ending blows. As a matter of fact, even you’ve had to do the occasional killing to spare the man of such choices.
The silver-haired demon notices your eyes on him and smiles, excited. He reminds you of a large dog. A horned, fanged dog of monstrous strength, nonetheless the innocence is there. And he does make a great travel companion.
“How much longer?” You grunt, looking up.
“Are you tired? I can carry you for the rest of the way-” Kiritsubo instantly offers but is interrupted by Murasaki’s barked orders.
“She can walk. Don’t spoil her.” He glares at you, then nods ahead. “We’re almost there, so quit your whining.”
True to his word, you can finally discern the outline of a wall at the top of the hill. A few more steps, and you can even spot two guards standing beside the great gate.
“Stop there!”
The soldiers lift their spears threateningly. Before you can react, Murasaki steps in front of you with a hand placed on his sword.
“We’re just passing through.” He states factually.
“We’re no longer allowing visitors.” One of the guards exclaims. “The village has been raided by monsters recently and our Lord has closed all gates until the matter is solved.”
“That means no filthy demons go in.” The other adds in a mocking tone, his gaze lingering on the horns of your companions. His mouth curls in disgust.
You can tell Murasaki is angered by the disrespectful approach. He is not one to let such insults slide and you’d rather avoid him claiming unnecessary victims; therefore, you push past his arm and plant yourself ahead with a polite greeting bow.
“These yokai are with me. I vouch for their good behavior, so please consider letting us through. Perhaps we can even help you with these monsters.”
“You? How would you…”
The man stops abruptly, switching between you and the yokai. Eventually he inspects your scabbard, and he gasps, confusion twisting his features.
“Could it be? No…He’d be dead by now.”
“What are you talking about?” His partner inquires impatiently.
“That’s the family seal belonging to Abe no Nakamaro.” He explains, pointing to the golden finish at the end of your katana handle. “I’ve heard about him from my grandparents. But it’s been decades!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re saying this kid is a legendary onmyōji?”
“Who else would show up with demons as servants? Everything matches. Perhaps his powers have finally reached immortality”, he concludes solemnly.
The men continue their argument, and you clear your throat, embarrassed. What the hell? You can’t possibly look that manly. Sure, you’ve been skipping the makeup, and the clothes aren’t exactly curve shaping, but to be mistaken for an old man is like a slap to the face.
You’re about to deny their claims, but Murasaki swiftly pinches the back of your neck, and you wince. He lowers himself to your ear and whispers:
“This will be to our advantage. Just go along with it.”
“Fine!” You mumble angrily. Then you turn back to the guards.
“V-very well, I see I haven’t been forgotten.” You admit, theatrically. “Lead me to your Lord and we shall discuss the details of your monster attack.”
Thus, you sip on your tea, kneeling at the luxurious table and awaiting the arrival of the feudal Lord. The servants are exchanging words, gossiping fervently next to the wall.
“I wonder if he can cure my daughter!” one woman mumbles, visibly emotional.
“Do you think we can finally be saved? He’ll truly exorcise the beasts tormenting our village?” another whispers.
You wipe the sweat from your forehead and glare at Murasaki. You had no idea he’d given you Nakamaro’s old sword. Now you’re stuck pretending to be a pompous, long-dead asshat.
“What if they catch us?” You hiss between your teeth. “I don’t know shit about onmyōdō.”
“Then I’ll just kill them all. Simple as that.” The crimson-eyed man retorts, unconcerned. “Have a little fun, won’t you?”
“W-we’ll help you come up with answers, (Y/N). Don’t worry.” Kiritsubo chimes in, trying to reassure you.
You sigh in frustration and look out the window. The sun must’ve set a long time ago and has since been replaced by a pitch-black sky. What’s keeping the Lord? Surely, he can’t be having important business meetings late at night.
Almost as if your thoughts were read, the door slides open and a servant wobbles in. The rest of the household workers are silent, expecting the entrance of their master, but no one is following behind. You observe the bizarre limp of the woman. Suddenly, she collapses to the floor, revealing her bloodied back torn by deep wounds, caused by some sort of claw. Her body is stiff.
Panic settles in right away, and the servants topple over each other to get away from the fresh cadaver. You struggle to get up among the terrified crowd, but thankfully Murasaki grabs your wrist and pulls you out into a quieter hallway.
“What the hell?” is all you manage to say.
“Rotten.” Kiritsubo furrows his brows, sniffing the air. “Someone in here must be possessed. Could be more of them.”
Murasaki surveys the surroundings and gestures towards his partner.
“We have to see if the Lord is still alive. You go that way. I’ll take the front. Kill everyone suspicious.”
“What about me?” You demand, holding your breath.
“Get out and wait for us. You know how to draw a protection circle, don’t you? I won’t take long.” The dark-haired yokai answers before vanishing.
Judging by the screams and wails coming from all directions, you suspect Kiritsubo is right about multiple attackers. You sprint across the hall, looking for an opening. The self-defense lessons didn’t cover cursed humans with demonic powers. You’ll stay out of this one.
What an absolute mess. You have encountered some demons in your weeks spent here, but nothing to this degree. When the guards mentioned a monster attack, you imagined a ghost with a grudge, or some small fry yokai scaring the workers at night, not a mass curse that ends in a massacre. Of course, it had to happen the moment you arrived at the main house.
You find a room with a door leading to the inner courtyard. Seems isolated enough and it should provide a bit of shelter while you wait for the pair to finish the business. As you rush past the dead bodies, you notice a woman hiding behind a screen divider.
“Ah! It’s you!” she yells, aware of your presence.
From the shadow of her secret spot emerges the small frame of a child. The woman pushes the little human towards you, blocking your path.
“Don’t worry, he’ll protect us.” she gives her child another nudge. “Go on, hold onto him. You’ll be safe.”
What? No, no, no, no, no. Not happening. You’re getting out.
“Ma’am, sorry to break it to you under such circumstances, but I’m not-”
You’re interrupted by a loud growl. One of the possessed creatures must’ve followed your scent, and it’s now sliding into the room on all fours with the bones of the limbs twisting and creaking in unnatural pounces. You purse your lips in a frightened grimace. One advantage of the wide hakama pants – useful to know – is that no one can see your knees shaking cowardly.
Theoretically, you could use the brat as bait and run for your life. It’d make a decent obstacle. Unfortunately for your life span, you’ve been gifted with an idiotic sense of duty instead of survival instincts.
“Keep your distance. If I can’t kill it, get out and don’t look back” you advise, positioning yourself in the learned stance and sliding the sword out of its sheath.
Damn it! Then again, it should be like fighting a zombie, right? Given the pathetic way it drags itself around, it can’t be too difficult to hit. Aim for the head, you repeat in your mind. Your fingers grip around the handle.
The ghoulish beast lowers itself, like a spring about to recoil, and leaps across the room with an ease you did not anticipate. Despite your iron hold, it slaps the blade out of your hands with enormous force. The impact breaks your skin, and you wince. There’s no time to weep, within seconds it could go for your vitals next. While Murasaki hasn’t gotten around to teaching you much hand-to-hand combat, you’ve read your fair share of shounen manga. The first idea that comes to mind is to put the beast in a sumo lock. You bend your knees smoothly and wrap your arms around the monster, feeling for something to hold onto. You grit your teeth and attempt to lift the creature.
A thundering laugh resonates within the walls, and you jolt, startled.
“I never thought I’d see the mighty Abe no Nakamaro wrestling with ankle biters like this. What are you going to do, throw it out of the ring?”
The voice is deep, loud, and unfamiliar. You can’t afford to look back to see the source, but it’s not hard to figure out the possibilities. So far, you’ve only been called by that cursed name by the yokai accomplices. Although now is not the best time to seek revenge.
“Shut up, I panicked”, you snap in frustration. “If you can’t help, keep that trap closed!”
The sudden burst of anger seems to have triggered something within your body, a power you don’t recognize. You watch as your arms effortlessly pick up the monster and swing it across the room, its body demolishing the opposing wall and causing thick clouds of dust to rise and spread everywhere.
The impact must’ve alerted the nearby ghouls, as you can now hear the agitated trample and screeching rapidly approaching. You’re not confident you can pull the same lucky move a second time.
You turn to search for your sword, but it’s already being handed to you by the mysterious yokai who’s been observing your little fight. You have to step aside and tilt your head all the way back in order to fully view the gigantic frame of the man.
Ah, you recognize the features immediately. The same kind of fear you felt when you stumbled upon that old shrine statue is now tugging at your chest.
“You’re Suma, right?”
A proud, wide grin forms on his face, revealing a pair of glistening fangs. His expression is unexpectedly soft and friendly.
“We’re halfway through our introductions then, eh?” You pick up the sword and his fingers stretch out for a handshake. “What is your given name? I’m guessing you don’t willingly go by that…title.”
“I very much prefer (Y/N), yes.” You marvel at the significant difference in size, placing your small hand in his. “Was that your power I just used?”
“Mhhm. You sure surprised me there! It’s not something I did intentionally, but I s’ppose we just resonate that well, huh?”
He laughs again, completely unbothered by the impending danger.
“Alright, you can leave the rest to me. Take the lady outside, it will get a little messy.”
And with that, he casually walks towards the gathering of ghouls. You guide the family to the courtyard and wait for the battle to end.
“Do you think she’ll be fine by herself?” Kiritsubo is resting against the fence, keeping you under a watchful gaze.
“Let the humans sort it out among themselves.” Murasaki responds, somewhat bored.
The morning after the attack, you offered to deal with the survivors: ask them how everything started, if they’d noticed anything suspicious days prior to the event, and if the route to Nakamaro’s old residence was still open. The yokai men had found the feudal Lord in the jaws of a possessed creature and he quickly succumbed to his wounds. Consequently, only the remaining servants could provide them with clues.
A village being targeted like this is highly unusual, and Murasaki can’t shake the feeling it could be related to their master.
“Oh, where are you heading after this?” The silver-haired yokai glances at Suma, sitting lazily next to them.
“Where? After you just told me the whole story? I’m way too invested in this modern reincarnation that just popped out of nowhere, so I’m tagging along!” He announces with a chuckle.
Murasaki frowns.
“We don’t need your help.”
“Don’t be like that.” The giant man pouts dramatically. “Are you upset I saved (Y/N) before you?”
“W-we were on our way!” Kiritsubo retorts, visibly bothered.
“It’s a done deal!” Suma rests his hands under his head and yawns. “Besides, the little human already said he doesn’t mind.”
“He? (Y/N) is a woman.”
The redhead abruptly sits up and gasps.
“Wait, what?”
“Don’t get funny ideas, man”, the silver-haired demon warns.
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Deathless Death
Pairing: Osferth x nameless female character (third person perspective)
Warnings: Religious guilt. Smut. Fingering. Slight exhibitionism. Oral (f receiving). Gratuitous Hozier references.
Word count: 3.5k
Summary: When a young woman's father is killed following Skade's attack on the priests of Alton, Osferth agrees to take responsibility for her, feeling a need to protect a fellow Christian. However, the longer they travel together the deeper they have each other questioning their faith. Based on this request. Series masterlist.
Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.
The Lord works in mysterious ways. This is a belief that Osferth has always clung firmly to, it is the only way he can justify his existence; the result of a union between a serving girl and a deeply religious king who, so embarrassed by his extramarital indiscretion, had ensured that Osferth was enrolled as a novice monk as soon as he was old enough, and refused to ever acknowledge him as his son.
Osferth is a bastard, yet he must have a purpose, for God does not give life without intent. He feels he has found his reason for being when he crosses paths with Uhtred, a man his uncle, Leofric, had always spoken kindly of. He offers to serve Uhtred as a warrior, though he has no fighting experience. This is the divine path chosen for him, he is certain of it. He clutches the hilt of his sword as tightly as he often grips the cross that sits around his neck in times of anguish, and does his best to be brave in spite of how afraid he feels.
Reluctantly he learns the ways of ale and women, surprised when the Lord does not smite him down for his sins. He surmises that he has misinterpreted the teachings of the Holy Book; a life of piety does not have to mean an existence endured in abstinence. Though his faith in God never once falters, he grows to enjoy, and even seek out, the pleasures he’d once mistaken for temptations. They are not a means for him to stray from the light, but another outlet in which he can revere it and give thanks.
It is not until he reaches the village of Alton with Uhtred and his men that he discovers the true purpose of the journey he has embarked upon. A group of Danes with a seeress named Skade in their midst has attacked the village, killing all of its holy men.
That is where he finds her. Such a fragile looking thing, sobbing her heart out while huddled behind a vegetable cart, clutching her cross in much the same way he used to do with his.
“Don’t be afraid.” He reassures her calmly, crouching so his face is level with hers.
“Are you an angel?” She asks tearfully, her eyes wide and imploring.
Osferth cannot help but smile at that. For you I’d like to be.
With gentle persuasion, Uhtred agrees to allow Osferth to bring the girl along, provided he is responsible for her. He is all too happy to agree to that. Her mother is long dead and the attack on Alton has killed her father, she has no one else. He was meant to meet her, he feels it in his heart.
Naturally, she is fearful of the others, her only prior encounter with heathens had ended in the death of her only living relative and left her all alone in the world. She clings to Osferth, but he does not mind it. He sees a lot of himself in her, how scared he’d been when he’d first left the monastery to accompany Uhtred. But if she is anything like him, she is resilient and she will pull through this.
As the weeks pass, her face becomes less marred by fear and grief. She is beautiful, Osferth realises. He has been grateful to have someone to bow his head in prayer with, however, the way that she snuggles next to him for warmth in front of the campfire, how closely she leans back against his chest as they ride together and the proximity in which she lays her bed roll next to his no longer feel so innocent, at least not to him.
He feels ashamed for harbouring such illicit thoughts about her. Her piety makes him feel like he is the worst kind of sinner. She does not partake in ale and stays quiet when the rest of the group share lewd jokes. Where her prayers are earnest and heartfelt, his feel flimsy and disingenuous. He would renounce the Lord and worship her instead if she asked it of him. The idea makes his stones ache. When she shivers and huddles to him for warmth it occurs to him that he’d burn everything in his path if only for her to never feel cold again.
Guilt blooms heavily in his chest at the thoughts and feelings she elicits from him, especially when she looks at him, her eyes are always filled with gratitude and adoration. He has grown to crave her gaze, despite the fact that she will never view him as anything more than a protector.
When it becomes too much for him to bear, he seeks the comfort of the nearest brothel. With each thrust into the whore beneath him, he imagines her face, how those hands that fold so delicately in prayer would feel clinging to his shoulders, how soft and supple her flesh would be against the wiry hardness of his own. When he reaches his peak, picturing her, he comes harder than he ever has before in his life. It feels like he has died and approached the very gates of Heaven.
If that is how it feels merely to think about her, he wonders what it would be like to actually be inside of her. It would surely feel holy and sacred, a pleasure not meant for mere mortals. For the second time that night he craves her, and so he seeks out another woman offering her services in the pleasure house.
He pays them well, and he is not unkind to them. He is convinced that that is why they fight over him the next day. He is mortified, especially when he sees that she is watching. She will think him godless, sinful. He hopes that the Lord is merciful and does not intend for her to leave him. He sends a silent prayer of thanks when she remains by his side in the days that follow.
It is not until Uhtred, Sihtric and Finan pay a visit to Alfred, and leave Osferth and her back at camp that he realises they’ve never truly been alone together. He shifts uncomfortably on the log he sits upon, glancing up from the flames of the fire every so often at her, unsure of what to say. She eyes him curiously the entire time, the warmth from the fire and the sunny afternoon meaning she does not snuggle to him as she usually would. Secretly he is disappointed.
“Do you still believe in God?” She asks quietly.
Her gaze is timid and as Osferth turns to meet her eye, she looks to her lap as though ashamed to have asked.
“Of course I do, my lady,” He replies softly, smiling at her. He wants more than anything for her to look at him again, there is something reverent in the way she regards him that makes his chest swell and his cock twitch. He could die happily with a single glance his way from her. “My faith has never waivered.”
“You are not as devout as the people from back home.” Her fingers pinch and stroke over the fabric of her skirt as she says this, not looking up at him as he sits across from her.
“I used to be,” He admits with a slight shrug, wondering if she thinks less of him for his perceived lack of faith. “I suppose travelling with Uhtred has taught me that faith does not mean deprivation. The Lord made life for living.”
She nods, her voice barely above a whisper, as her eyes flicker to his. “Is that why you visit brothels, and why those women fight over you?”
He feels his cheeks heat up as she asks this, and suddenly it’s his turn to look away, embarrassed. He takes a moment to consider his reply, not wanting to sully her innocence with vulgarity, or say anything that might frighten her. “I was celibate when I was a monk…” He begins awkwardly. “I’m not anymore. Truthfully, partaking in the pleasures of the flesh feels like the closest experience to meeting God without dying.”
He knows he has turned pink all the way to the tips of his ears by the time he finishes speaking, he cannot bear to look at her for fear of what he might see in her eyes. She must think he is utterly depraved.
The moment of silence between them hangs thick and uncomfortable before she finally breaks it. “If that is why you are fought over…then I am eager to find out for myself.”
His head snaps up, his eyes wide, stunned and unsure of if he has heard correctly, it seems too forward a statement for such a pious little thing like her. However, her stare is steady and unwavering as it meets his, causing his breath to hitch. He hadn’t misheard her and she meant every word.
The cracking of a twig causes them to finally look away from each other, as they turn to see the others returning. He has never been displeased to see any of them before, but can’t help but wish they’d left it a little longer to come back.
Her words play on a loop in Osferth’s thoughts. I am eager to find out for myself. He frantically strokes himself to release that night, once more plagued by visions of her, the silkiness of her hair, her scent, the dulcet tone of her giggle. There is no sweeter innocence in his mind than the gentle sin that he shares with her.
There is a storm the following evening. Though they are camped beneath a thatch of trees, protected from the worst of the downpour, it does little to block out the boom of the thunder and the crackle of lightning. She whimpers at every crash, clearly frightened, and Osferth’s heart aches for her. He’d do anything to make sure the expression of fear and sadness she wore for the first few weeks they traveled together never returns.
He pulls her tight to him, wrapping the furs around them both as they sit around the fire with the others. They don’t bat an eye at the familiarity between the two, understanding of the fact that she finds comfort in a fellow Christian’s presence and that Osferth is simply offering kindness to someone in need of it.
She melts into his embrace and he allows his hands to wander over her beneath the furs, tracing the curves of her through her dress. He has never dared to touch her like this before and she looks up at him questioningly, though makes no move to stop him.
Emboldened by her silent consent, he strokes her hair with his free hand, while allowing the other to push up her skirt. She gasps at this and buries her face in his chest. He holds her tighter while Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric continue their conversation, all assuming she is just startled by the storm that rages above them.
Her inner thighs are velvety smooth as his fingertips trace over the flesh of them. Not even angel’s wings feel as divine as this, he thinks. As the pads of his digits make contact with the gusset of her smallclothes he draws in a shaky inhale at finding that it is damp with her arousal. It darkens the desire within him to have confirmation that she is just as affected by him as he is by her, and he pushes her underclothes to the side, stroking through the slickness of her folds.
She shudders against him, her breathing growing heavier and he quietly shushes her, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. He looks up to see Finan give him a sympathetic smile, clearly assuming Osferth is comforting her, before he is distracted by Uhtred swatting him softly with the back of his hand in order to gain back his attention.
Osferth looks back down at her, she is peeking up at him from where her head rests against his chest and in the flicker of the firelight he can see that her pupils are wide with lust. It is a look he has seen on the faces of many of the women within the pleasure houses he’s visited over the years. To see it burning bright within the eyes of someone so pure is enough to drive him to madness with the desire it awakens within him.
Shielded from view beneath the furs, he circles her pearl with precision, silently delighting in the way she clutches at his robes and bucks slightly up at his hand. He feels she’s growing close when her body tenses against his and she stares up at him, worry evident in how her brows pinch together. Poor thing has never peaked before.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He murmurs, coaxing her to let go.
He cradles her head to his chest as she trembles and gasps against him, before finally going limp. Osferth withdraws his hand, allowing her to slump sleepily against him, smiling softly down at her as her eyes drift closed.
He knows in that moment that she will be both his salvation and his damnation, and he welcomes both with open arms.
It is another week before they are left alone together, and life carries on as normal. They do not speak of what happened beneath the furs on the night of the storm, despite the fact that it’s all Osferth can think about.
The others head away from camp one evening to scout the locations of a possible attack from the Danes. It is too dangerous for her to come along, so Osferth remains behind so she is not left alone. This time she seats herself next to him, and he feels his mouth run dry, heart hammering in his chest as he struggles to think of what to say to her.
He startles when she places her hand on his. “You are right,” She says with a shy smile. “It felt…like something divine…when you touched me.”
Osferth swallows thickly. “You liked it?” He asks, already knowing the answer, but desperate to hear her say it.
She nods, chewing her lip nervously. “I did. Does that make me a sinner?”
His eyes widen in mild horror that she could ever consider herself such. “No, that is something you could never be.”
“I am not repentant though,” She muses, her eyes slowly meeting his. “I have thought of nothing else.”
“That is only natural.” He tells her, suddenly aware of how close their faces are, noses almost brushing. His gaze flits to her lips momentarily. Osferth has never kissed a woman before, though he has fucked plenty; the ones he exchanges coin with do not allow such intimate gestures. He desperately wants to kiss her though.
He is surprised by her boldness when she leans in first. It is a quick peck to his lips, which she rapidly withdraws from, looking sheepish. He cups her cheek, coaxing her back and presses his mouth to hers with more pressure. She softens against the movement and for a moment it feels as though time has stopped for Osferth. There is only her. It is a kiss riddled with youthful inexperience and yet he does not think there has ever been anything better.
“Will you…” She mutters against his lips, clearly uneasy with attempting to ask for what she wants.
“Touch you?” He finishes for her.
“Yes,” She whispers, “I want to feel…” She places a hand over her face, giggling. “I have never laid with a man before. I do not know what to ask for.”
“It’s okay.” He reassures her. “I understand.”
Osferth coaxes her to sit on his lap as she had the night of the storm, only this time there are no furs to cover them, and he rucks her skirt up around her hips, rather than slipping his hand beneath it.
“Take these off for me.” He says, plucking at her smallclothes.
She does as he instructs and he pulls her tight against him, her back flush with his chest as his arm snakes around her waist, dipping his hand between her legs. She is wet already and he cannot help the groan that escapes him as his fingers make contact with her core.
He circles her bud slowly and she clamps her mouth shut, cutting off the mewl that threatens to spill forth.
“You don’t have to be quiet this time.” He tells her, as she turns her face into his neck, her breath coming in hot puffs against his skin.
Tentatively he dips a finger into her entrance, conscious of the fact that she has never had anything inside of her before - the thought that he is the first makes him swell painfully hard against her rear as it presses back into his lap. Her grip on his digit as he inserts it is vice-like and he wonders how she’d feel squeezing around the length of him, if she ever allows him to take things that far.
He sets a steady rhythm of dragging his finger against a rough patch inside of her that causes sounds that are prettier than any of the songs he’s heard at æfensang to spill forth from her, while circling her pearl with his thumb.
She squirms against him, her arm reaching above and behind her to wrap around his neck, her fingers scrabble desperately at the back of his robes. Her jaw is slack, her eyes glassy and Osferth believes that if the Heavens could speak then her wanton cries of pleasure would be their mouthpiece.
She falls apart with a violent shudder, clenching ceaselessly around his finger and he withdraws it slowly as she begins to calm, continuing to hold her close. Though he is pleased to have brought her to peak, he feels disappointed that the moment is over so soon. He wants, needs, longer to enjoy her.
“You are so beautiful.” He whispers to her, pressing his face to her hair. “Will you allow me to taste you?”
“Taste me?” She asks, confusion etched across her pretty features. “I do not know what you mean.”
“I will show you.” He tells her, ushering her off of him and laying down. “Come here.”
There is no question in Osferth’s mind that he would ever allow her to lay upon the ground, she is too good for that. He will gladly let her sit atop him so that she never has to experience that indignity or discomfort.
He guides her to straddle him, pushing her upwards towards his face, but she falters.
“Osferth, I’ll crush you!” She protests, hovering above him.
“You won’t, my lady.” He tells her with a soft chuckle, tugging insistently at her thighs.
She relents, hovering over his face. “What are you going to…oh!”
He cuts her off, gripping her outer thighs and runs the flat of his tongue against her centre. He can taste the remnants of her previous climax and hums at the sensation. She is sweeter than honeyed wine, an essence so pure it must be holy.
Tugging her flush against his face he laps at her like a man starved, sucking harshly against her pearl, before licking hungrily through the slick that gathers as she whines and writhes above him. If there is a Heaven then he has found it between her thighs and never wants to leave.
He strains painfully against his breeches beneath his robes as she begins to lose control, grinding against each flick of his tongue. He knows she will not last long, already sensitive from his earlier attention and so he savours each moment; her taste, her scent, the feel of her against his mouth and how she moves against him. She is a vision of beauty beyond comprehension as she sits astride him, thread thrown back, moans of ecstasy offered up to the night sky.
She was created in the image of all things good and pure, and his journey so far has led him to her; she is made for him, of this he is certain as she reaches the apex of her pleasure. He swallows down her release like it’s communion wine. In her gratification he is cleansed, reborn.
Osferth lays her down carefully on her bed roll afterwards, covering her body with his own. She appears almost drunk as she gazes up at him, eyes heavy lidded with a soft smile upon her lips.
“My sweet girl,” He coos to her, softly stroking her face. “Can you take more? Will you let me inside?”
As she opens her mouth to answer, the raucous laughter of Finan can be heard in the near distance. The group is returning.
Osferth moves quickly away from her, laying down on his own sleeping mat, watching her as her eyes flutter closed. He hopes she will dream of him. He hopes they will have further opportunities to explore each other. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and she is the most precious mystery he has yet to encounter.
#osferth#osferth x reader#osferth smut#the last kingdom#TLK#osferth fan fiction#osferth fanfiction#osferth fan fic#osferth fanfic#the last kingdom fan fiction#the last kingdom fanfiction#the last kingdom fan fic#the last kingdom fanfic#ewan mitchell
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𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 immortality is an abundant curse (3)
pairing : blade x reader
tags : hurt no comfort, angst, canon divergence
word count : 4.88k
chapters : one • two • three
crossposted to : AO3
Summary : “Everything changed the day Imbibitor Lunae committed a grave sin in the eyes of the Xianzhou. Upon Ren, he bestowed the most abundant curse known to man.
“Immortality.”
or
The full story.
Yanqing wears his heart on his sleeve.
Given this fact, you truly should’ve figured that Jing Yuan would know exactly who had taken his diary upon discovering it missing.
However, this thought doesn’t cross your mind, so when Jing Yuan arrives at the clinic that night to search for his young apprentice, you’re terribly startled.
Yanqing, who’d been carefully showing you the fruits of his training inside the clinic, drops his sword with a clatter, gasping upon seeing the General appear at the door.
“It wasn’t me!” he yelps indignantly. Jing Yuan gives the boy an amused look.
“Oh? I haven’t even mentioned what I’m here for. How did you know I’d accuse you?” the General questions. Yanqing deflates, having exposed himself and his guilt without the man having to do so much as lift a finger. You reach out towards Yanqing, wanting to defend the boy from any potential ire or anger.
All things considered, he’d done it for your sake. You wouldn’t let him take the blame for such a kindhearted action.
Bailu beats you to it first. Grabbing the journal from her desk, she tosses it to the General. The man catches it with one hand before looking at her curiously.
“Take it. I already read through all of it. I have a good memory. I’ll tell them the stories myself, whether you agree with it or not,” Bailu insists, turning away in annoyance. Unexpectedly, instead of disagreement or disdain, Jing Yuan chuckles and shakes his head.
“I think you’re mistaken. I didn’t come here to scold anyone or take this back. Actually, I commend Yanqing for taking a stand against me and remaining firm in his belief that you had the right to know,” Jing Yuan says with a small smile. Yanqing lets out a relieved sigh before picking up his sword, migrating to the edge of your bed to seat himself.
You tilt your head in confusion. “Why aren’t you upset?”
Jing Yuan suddenly looks sheepish, reaching back to rub his neck. “Actually, I went to the Divination Commission to inquire about this situation. Needless to say, the Master Diviner did not agree with how I handled everything.”
You hum softly, the thought bringing you some comfort. “Did she use the Matrix of Prescience to arrive at that answer?” you ask.
“Actually….” Jing Yuan trails off as he averts his gaze. Bailu pipes up with an amused huff.
“Fu Xuan scolded you, didn’t she?” she interrogates. The General sighs softly before confirming the healer’s suspicions with a small nod.
“Well, what she said, and I quote, ‘despite having the title Divine Foresight, you spend no time thinking about the consequences of your decisions. I don't even need a third eye to see why that’s wrong. Your apprentice has more of a head than you do,’ or something along those lines,” Jing Yuan recounts with a guilty expression.
“I’m glad someone got it through that thick skull of yours, General. The memories are a precious thing to the Vidyadhara race. I can hardly believe you hid so much myself,” Bailu chastises, crossing her arms.
“I know, I know. I realize my mistake,” he starts, walking over to you and sitting beside Yanqing on the edge of the bed. “I'm glad my nosy apprentice told you everything. I thought I was protecting you by keeping everything a secret, but I only caused you more stress in the end.”
You offer a gentle smile. “I went along with it without a fuss because I trusted you. It hurt, but I figured you wouldn’t hide things without reason.”
“And even knowing that I’ve been shielding you from something painful, you still want the truth?” the man asks, the worry clear in his expression. You meet his gaze and nod.
“Yes. Learning the truth is allowing me to feel more and more complete. Even if it’s upsetting, I need to know,” you insist. Jing Yuan chuckles.
“Even without your memories, you’re just as headstrong as you were back then,” he muses. “In that case, I’ll take responsibility, and I’ll be the one to deliver the truth to you.”
“At a later date,” Bailu interjects before Jing Yuan can flip open his diary to the relevant pages. “Save any new stories for tomorrow. I don’t want to strain them further.”
“Strain..?” the General mumbles. You quickly pipe in to clarify.
“Ren… I remembered my first meeting with him. I remembered loving him. But… everything else is still foggy,” you explain.
“But that was enough to make you faint! Lady Bailu is right. We should wait,” Yanqing adds. Jing Yuan looks at you and ruffles your hair affectionately.
“In that case, tomorrow. After our duties, I’ll sit down with you and tell you more. Every single day that Bailu allows it, I’ll tell you something new,” he promises. You feel your heart warm, a weight lifted off your chest.
“I’ll hold you to it. I’m sure Yanqing will, as well. Every day…” you murmur, a small grin making its way onto your face at the thought of finally securing a way to retrieve all of what you’d lost.
Soon, you’ll have all of the pieces of your past life. Once you do, you’ll finally know everything that transpired that led you to where you are now.
As excited as you are, you can’t help but feel a sense of dread.
There’s bound to be many joyous tales from your past, but the story of heartache and loss looms over you. It reminds you that, as happy as things may be, you have to prepare yourself to accept the pain and suffering of your previous life.
You can only hope that it’s something you’ll be able to handle when the time comes.
Dusk turns to dawn, and the sun rises on a new day.
True to his word, Jing Yuan begins visiting you in the evenings at the clinic to tell you new anecdotes from your past. Filling your head with stories that feel familiar— nostalgic, he tells tales each night until your head aches, a sign that you’ve taken in enough for the day.
The General helps you recall your first meeting with him— introduced as mutual friends of Imbibitor Lunae. You slowly remember the way you would watch the two spar, happy to clean up any wounds that came as a result.
Beyond that, Jing Yuan even shares how he’d been the one to push Lunae to introduce Ren to you, having always thought that you’d be a good influence on the man. Lunae agreed, and the General had considered it a personal victory.
However, he speaks of the way you fought alongside him in battle. This fact has you curious, having always assumed you were nothing but a healer.
Jing Yuan clarifies that you were a healer, and you once took up a sword to fight against the Denizens of Abundance precisely because of that reason. Each battle he recounts has your hands ghosting over areas where you swear you feel a slight pin prick of pain.
The General mentions that each place you touch is a place where your skin had once scarred over with wounds from each fight. It makes you smile— it seems the body truly never forgets.
Days continue to pass, and with time, your mind becomes less and less fractured. With each new tale, you grow more and more sure of who you are now and who you once were. Skills you once forgot become second nature once more. Memories return to you sometimes with the assistance of Jing Yuan and Bailu. Others enter your mind naturally, a byproduct of the newfound exposure to your past life.
Bailu notes your increased skill and confidence in healing, recognizing the way you improve as you remember the techniques of your profession. Your heart fills with warmth. You start to feel like yourself again— no longer a wanderer with nothing but shards of the past to their name.
Yet, as elated as you are to make such progress, it’s bittersweet.
You know they’re still deliberately avoiding how it all ended— how your Ren became Blade, the nature of your relationship, anything to do with him. Given that they’ve yet to broach the topic, all of those memories remain locked behind a wall. Unlike other moments, you’re unable to recollect it on your own— likely too heavy a topic to be triggered without help.
A frown appears on your face. You haven’t felt more sound of yourself in ages. Are you still unprepared? Is everyone coddling you once more?
How tragic a topic is the reality of your disappearance to cause them to hold off for this long?
Either way, it fills you with uncertainty and unease. You resolve to ask about it that evening, but it seems you don’t have to, for fate aligns itself at the perfect time.
As the sun begins to fall beneath the horizon, Jing Yuan, Yanqing, and Bailu all approach you, seating you on the bed as they surround you. Their expressions are all terse— hesitant.
You’re about to ask about what’s occurred— unsettled by the tension, but Jing Yuan is the first to speak up, interrupting any thoughts you have.
“You’ve made significant progress with your memory recovery. Bailu has deemed you mentally sound enough to learn of the truth. I’ll tell you everything. Who he was in regards to you, what happened to him… and how it all ended,” the General explains. Your heart flutters in nervousness and anticipation alike.
“Everything…?” you echo. Bailu nods.
“You’ve retained everything else well. I can’t promise that this won’t cause some sort of physical reaction. Much like the first time, it’s likely you’ll experience some pain, but… if we’re right, this should be the last time,” the healer promises with a determined gaze. You smile, feeling comfort in the resolve of those around you.
“Alright. I trust you,” you say. Bailu nods to Jing Yuan, who seats himself beside you as he begins to recount his experience from his memories.
He starts. “There’s one thing I’m certain about. The way you could never tell how Ren felt towards you seems to have stuck. You were the same back then, but I knew— everyone knew that Ren loved you more than anything in this world.”
“For a while, you didn’t realize just how hard Ren had fallen for you. It was incredibly obvious to the rest of us, though. Perhaps… it was because you were always looking away. When he regarded you with nothing but pure adoration, you were inevitably turned in the other direction.”
Ren lets out an affectionate sigh as he looks at you, head propped on his hand as he watches you stare down at your work table in pure concentration. The soft grind of pestle against mortar resounds through the building. Jing Yuan chuckles softly, looking at Ren with a smirk.
“Do you plan on saying anything to them? Or are you determined to long in secrecy for the rest of your life?” he questions, teases slipping off his tongue. Ren narrows his eyes at the man.
“Watch yourself, General,” he retorts. Jing Yuan lets the empty threat slide off him with ease, refusing to back down.
“All you do is sigh and stare in every moment you spend in their presence. Why are you so hesitant?” he asks. Ren glances away towards the herbs and medicines lining the walls— all fruits of your labor.
“They’re dedicated to their craft. They wouldn’t have the time for such frivolity,” he laments. Jing Yuan hums and gives a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Nonsense. They have plenty of time to spare. I often hear them complaining that they have too much time to Lunae,” Jing Yuan counters. Ren tenses, his lips pressing into a thin line.
“I doubt they feel the same affection for me as I do for them,” he mumbles. The General has to hold back from barking out a laugh.
“Please! That’s absolutely absurd. All I hear from you are excuses,” he insists. Before Ren has a chance to retaliate, another voice speaks up.
“The General is right about this, as boastful as he’s acting currently,” Imbibitor Lunae adds in, seating himself at the table with the two. “Both of you have a limited amount of time, Ren. It’d be unwise to waste it wondering if they feel the same.”
“Exactly. Besides, if you hold back on making a move, maybe I will,” Jing Yuan jests with a smirk. Ren shoots up in his seat.
“You will not!” he seethes before rolling his eyes, practically stomping off to retreat to your side. Jing Yuan watches in amusement.
“Do you think he’ll say anything or just sulk as per usual?” he asks. The dragon beside him hums.
“Have more faith in him. You pushed him right where he needed to be pushed. Just observe for now,” Lunae says, and Jing Yuan does so.
“I guess Ren really was at his wits end at that point, and Lunae was able to pick up on it. We watched, and you leapt into his arms after he professed his love. All of us knew it was a matter of time before you ended up together, but seeing it… it was a weight lifted for all of us.
“You two were finally happy.
“For a while after that, things were calm and comforting. Ren came to terms with his short life since you’d be there to spend it with him. I’d never seen anything make him happier than the day you became his, and he, yours.
“Truthfully, I think, that day, he found something worth living for in his relationship with you. Of course, he had the rest of us, but we were all long-life species. In you, he came to understand why life was so precious— why he had to treasure his existence, no matter the length of it.
“Alas, he was still… reckless, but just in the normal, stubborn, and headfast way that he always was. You were always there to scold him for it, but we all could tell it was different. Ren was fighting for his beliefs— no longer careless about his life. He was, in lack of better terms, himself.
“As I’m sure you’re aware by now, such tranquility couldn’t last forever.
“Everything changed the day Imbibitor Lunae committed a grave sin in the eyes of the Xianzhou. Upon Ren, he bestowed the most abundant curse known to man.
“Immortality.
“It was supposed to be another battle, but the two of them had been taking far longer than usual. Both of us were worried— aware that something was amiss, but afraid to speak it aloud lest we manifest it into reality…”
Jing Yuan watches you pace nervously outside of the hall. From where he leans against the wall, he can see the frenzied fear in your eyes as you look out in the distance every few minutes, hoping to see Lunae and Ren in the horizon.
The General is equally as concerned, but he knows that he must remain grounded to keep you sane.
“Imbibitor Lunae and Ren are both capable warriors. I’m sure that they’re fine. They’re probably just falling behind,” Jing Yuan reasons. You shake your head in disagreement.
“It’s been weeks. That’s not normal. The last time it took this long, someone—” you cut yourself off, flinching. The man’s expression becomes grim. He knows you’re right— that your worry is not unwarranted.
Neither of you wanted to be “too late” again.
Walking up beside you, Jing Yuan nudges you gently.
“Let’s head out. We’ll find them ourselves,” the General assures. You offer a wry smile and nod, but before either of you can make a move, another voice interjects.
“No need. We’ve returned,” Lunae says as he approaches with Ren by his side. Jing Yuan can see your excitement, but then watches as you freeze, expression falling as you look at Ren. The General notices what you do, too.
It isn’t uncommon to return from prolonged battles covered in blood, tattered with memories of the ongoing war. However, Ren seems far too pristine to have just returned from a battlefield. He’s glowing in a way that seems… unnatural.
Your eyes shift to Imbibitor Lunae, and suddenly your eyes are cold— distant.
“I think you caught something in his mannerisms that I couldn’t. You saw something that I couldn’t see, quickly catching on that something was inherently wrong— that they were hiding something.”
“What happened?” you ask, a seriousness in your tone that felt incredibly off-putting, given that you were referring to your lover and close friend. Instead of a response, Ren reaches towards you, pulling you into a tight embrace as if his life depended on it.
You pause, carefully wrapping your arms around Ren, running fingers through his hair as you repeat your earlier question.
“What happened?” you inquire, almost pleading now. Ren stills in your arms, silently burying his face in your neck. You frown, looking to Lunae once more for answers. Jing Yuan doesn’t move from his spot, either, trying to make sense of what it is you’re picking up on.
Eventually, beneath your persistent gaze, Lunae cracks.
“Ren nearly died on the battlefield,” he admits. You tighten your grip on your lover, eyes wide with a shock that Jing Yuan mirrors.
“He looks perfectly fine… he’s walking on his own two feet, and there isn’t a trace of blood on him…” you note in disbelief. Imbibitor Lunae looks away, seeming guilty in the way his eyes fall.
“I know. That’s because I…” Imbibitor Lunae goes quiet, unable to bring himself to finish his thought. Jing Yuan narrows his eyes, arms crossing over his chest as he looks at the other.
“You what?” the General interrogates. However, the dragon doesn’t spare him a glance, instead looking to you with something that makes your eyes fill with fury. Before he can raise questions, you’re quick to clarify.
“You made him immortal? Why would you do such a grievous thing?!” you snap, forcefully separating yourself from your lover. Ren reaches for you desperately, but you take a step back. Jing Yuan easily recognizes the look of betrayal on your face.
“I can explain—” Ren starts, but you cut him off harshly.
“What is there to explain here?! I’ve treated the Mara-Struck— victims of the Sanctus Medicus, and you want to explain? I’m a healer and even I’m aware that immortality isn’t a remedy of any sort! It’s a venom! A curse!” you yell, eyes brimming with tears. Jing Yuan remains mute, unable to understand why anyone would resort to such a taboo method for any reason, especially given all that they’d witnessed together.
“Please, calm yourself and allow us to talk this o—” Before Lunae can finish his thought, you interrupt.
“Calm myself? Imbibitor Lunae, have you forgotten that I’m dying? In a few decades, I’ll be gone! Ren no longer has the mercy of dying by my side! He’ll have to witness everything!” you cry out, voice cracking as tears slip down your cheeks.
“He’ll endure so much suffering, and he’ll never be able to die…” you whisper, finally gathering enough strength to meet Ren’s gaze. “You promised.”
Ren is quick to scoop you into his arms, wiping your tears away with his thumb.
“I also promised to return to you. We’re both here now. That must count for something. Without immortality, I wouldn’t have returned to greet you again— to hold you again. And immortality doesn’t change a thing. I still plan to remain by your side for eternity,” he promises softly. You look up at him, an unfathomable sadness in your eyes.
Briefly, Jing Yuan catches you glancing at Lunae. There’s a wordless exchange in the expression you share with the Vidyadhara. The General has no idea what it is that you both say, but it’s enough because soon you’re releasing a defeated sigh.
“I’m glad you’re alright, Ren,” you say softly. Ren smiles, leaning down to kiss you gently. You reciprocate for a moment before pulling away, allowing yourself to enjoy the warmth of his presence.
Despite everything, Jing Yuan can tell that it isn’t something you’d ever move on from.
“You never brought up Ren’s immortality of your own accord ever again after that day. If it came up in conversation, you always excused yourself to be alone for a while.
“There was a time that I confronted you about it, though. I knew it was forbidden, but I needed to know what was going through your head. Honestly, I don’t think I could ever forget what you said to me that day.”
“Why wouldn’t I be upset, Jing Yuan?” you start, head in hands as you shut your eyes tight.
“There will come a time where Ren suffers unimaginable pain, and I won’t be there to help him. There will come a day where myself, Imbibitor Lunae, and even you aren’t there to support him through his suffering,” you explain. The General pauses, not having thought that far into the future.
You continue in his silence. “My death is just the start. I don’t think Ren understands how much of a tragedy that is. Soon, we will all leave him, and he’ll come to understand that death is far more merciful than being the last person left alive of all those you’ve grown to love.”
You frown and walk off, your words weighing heavily in Jing Yuan’s heart.
“I grew to understand exactly how right you were in your assumption as the years passed. When you faded away and crumbled— I witnessed firsthand how cruel his affliction was.
“Ren knew he couldn’t live without seeing you once more, I don’t think he ever thought about the inevitable day where he’d have to learn to live without you entirely.
“The day you disappeared… I could tell everything weighed heavily on your mind. In the face of your inevitable demise, you still worried for Ren.”
Jing Yuan lets out a soft sigh, watching Lunae and Ren leave for their duties. Glancing back to you on the bed, he tilts his head.
“You looked like you had more to say back then. Something else on your mind?” he asks as he seats himself on the edge of your bed. You look at him, a serious look in your eyes.
“I promise that, one day, I will find my way back to you all. One day, I’ll return, so Ren won’t have to suffer on his own,” you swear. Jing Yuan offers a sympathetic smile.
“Unless you’re a Vidyadhara, reincarnation is just a legend,” he mentions. You don’t respond, instead humming in acknowledgement to the General’s statement.
“Of course, I didn’t know you were one back then, but what I did know is that you were incredibly firm in your desire. Either way, I’d brushed it off.
“I left the room to make your medicine, but you had disappeared when I returned. Only then did I realize… that promise was your last wish— your final resolve.”
Jing Yuan continues his explanation, telling you the results of your disappearance.
Ren was never the same. He spent countless hours looking for you— searching for a body, but you’d vanished completely, much like the Mara-Struck who faded into nothingness. From that day forth, Ren’s mind fractured and he grew resentful of his curse.
As you predicted, the rest of your group slowly began to die out, your lover forced to suffer through each and every one knowing he’d never be granted the same reprieve.
Then came time for Imbibitor Lunae to pass and reincarnate.
“After Lunae died, Ren disappeared entirely, his mind shattered beyond repair— a shell of who he once was. Losing his bosom friend was the final straw.
“I tried to search for him, but he’d vanished from the Xianzhou Alliance entirely. I figured he didn’t want to be found, so I was forced to move on lest I suffered the same fate:
“Lost in our past without direction or will to live.”
Jing Yuan sighs as he finishes the story, shaking his head. “I thought it all a distant memory, then I saw you again on the Luofu as Bailu’s assistant. You looked the same way you did back then.”
“At first, I thought you just looked similar, but then I saw the horns and tail and I knew— you’d found your way back as promised, and you were a Vidyadhara. I’m sure I acted strange when we first met, but I was trying to confirm that it was really you,” he admits.
The memory of that day rushes to the forefront of your mind. The Arbitor-General had followed you and Bailu back to the clinic. His eyes were trained on your tail, watching the way it swayed as you worked before his gaze settled on your horns.
Jing Yuan had carefully observed you as you made medicine at Bailu’s work table, humming a tune that you’d heard from earlier in the day. It startled you how attentive he was being, but now it made sense.
“I confirmed it through your mannerisms and habits. I saw the way you carefully healed others. Then, you expressed familiarity towards me and that sealed it. Unfortunately, I knew you were without your memories.
“I had been keeping tabs on Blade since he appeared on the IPC’s most wanted list, and I vowed to protect you from him. If he saw you and you didn’t remember him, I had a feeling it wouldn’t go well,” Jing Yuan says, frowning.
“I thought protecting you meant guarding you from the truth so you never had to learn of the tragedy that became of your past lover, but I know now that you have to make this choice yourself. By deliberately concealing this, I’ve already hurt you enough,” he finishes softly, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder.
You remain silent and still, staring blankly ahead. From the corner of your eye, Bailu frowns.
“Are you alright?” she asks, preparing for any sort of pain that might occur as a result of everything.
Instead, tears begin to slip down your cheeks, dripping down onto your hands as you grip your robes tightly in your lap. Smiling sadly, you blink rapidly in an attempt to clear your vision of the glistening drops.
Jing Yuan is the first to react, cupping your face in his hands and wiping away your tears gently as you sniffle softly.
“What’s the matter?” the General questions, concern etched into his features. You shake your head, words caught in your throat.
Everything in your mind is clicking into place, pieces falling and fitting together.
Ah, of course. I promised this so long ago, your mind echoes. I said that I’d return— that I’d remember— so I could make it back to you and protect you from the curse you fell into.
Your shoulders shake as you begin to sob. The General pulls you into a tight embrace, Yanqing leaning against your side in an attempt to provide comfort as well.
You usually never remember any last reincarnations as a Vidyadhara. Memory is a spectrum for your kind, and you always ebbed on the side of starting with an entirely clean slate. It’s why you were so certain you’d die when you left to be born again.
You wouldn’t take any memories of your past with you, and you wouldn’t recall them.
Except, this time you did.
Dying and rebirthing with such a strong resolve meant that, since you awoke in this new life, you’ve always felt that something was missing.
Now, you know what it is.
But it’s too late, isn’t it?
You bury your face in Jing Yuan’s shoulder as you cry, mourning the past you lost, and the lover you abandoned in this world.
If Blade’s mind fractured so long ago, do you even hold a place in his memories anymore?
Is there anything you could do in your current state to help him?
Or was all of this remembrance for naught?
For this, you had no answer.
Hidden away somewhere in the Luofu, a woman observes a man from afar.
Kafka recognizes the distant expression Blade wears as he stares out at the scenery and passing Starskriffs. It’s vulnerable— longing— one that he only wears when he thinks no one is watching.
However, her attention is diverted elsewhere when her phone vibrates with an incoming text. Glancing down at the device, she smirks as she reads the message.
Kafka. Plans have changed. Blade’s initial wish will be granted.
The woman raises a brow in amusement, typing and replying to his message with a teasing response.
Even we aren’t capable of necromancy, Elio.
Instead of commenting on her witty remarks, he merely sends back a simple text which serves as enough of an explanation for Kafka.
The Vidyadhara has remembered themself, thus returning to who they once were.
Await new instructions.
The woman looks back up at Blade, smirking as she pockets her phone.
What new side of him will she be able to witness? What sort of expression will he have when Elio surprises him with this?
Kafka can’t wait to see how this story plays out.
tag rqs : @ceylestia - @thetwinkims - @astralsity - @kaminari-no-ritsusha - @jotaro-souped
#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail#honkai blade#hsr blade#blade hsr#honkai blade x reader#hsr blade x reader#hsr x gender neutral reader#hsr x reader#hsr fic#hsr fanfic#honkai star rail fanfic#honkai star rail fic#hsr angst#honkai star rail angst#cross posted on ao3#ao3 crosspost#kaori-writes
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Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 53
The TARDIS's blue box exterior slightly changes in appearance due to chameleonic fluctuation. (Novel: St. Anthony's Fire)
The Eleventh Doctor claimed to have a seventh sense - the Finding Evil Sense. (Novel: Magic of the Angels) This would make sense, considering that the Doctor often gets prickling sensations or other odd feelings when he senses something evil nearby.
The Fifth Doctor wore question mark patterned pyjamas. (Novel: Divided Loyalties)
According to the Twelfth Doctor, the three best coffees in the universe are: the ones Sergeant Benton made, the ones made by Elisabeth Pepys, and the ones made by Intergalactic Coffee Roasting Station. (Short story: Lights Out)
The Laika Protocol is the name for the TARDIS protocol that disposes the Doctor's body in case of their death. (Novel: Too Many Hands) This protocol was likely named after how the Relic was disposed in Novel: Alien Bodies.
The Fourth Doctor began writing a series of books called Doctor Who Discovers while he was still associated with UNIT. The Fifth Doctor would later be threatened by the publisher's robot after not completing the series. (Audio: The Kingmaker)
The Thirteenth Doctor absolutely does not like olives, and she'd need weeks to explain why. (Novel: The Good Doctor)
The Fifth Doctor hates celery as a food. He only wears it to detect praxis gases. (Audio: The Gathering)
Clive Flinch had many pictures of people he believed could be different incarnations of the Doctor. One of these was a tall, bald black woman wielding a flaming sword, and another was a young-looking child in a wheelchair with a sonic screwdriver and a K-9 unit. Also included are many photographs of numbered incarnations as well as some of Morbius Doctors. (Novel: Rose)
The Tenth Doctor once had a reaction to praxis gas after disarming a booby-trapped bomb, but he was saved by Elizabeth Garrett Anderson. (Comic: Nurse Who?)
The Entity was a being composed of two minds that had created their own space, termed grey space, and brought the Doctor in for their own amusement. The Doctor convinced them to play Monopoly, so the Entity tested the Doctor, using a bet to determine who plays first. He had seven chances to disable an android, open a door, and evade an imposter version of a companion trying to push him through the door. The Seventh, Sixth, Fifth, Fourth, Third, and Second Doctors all failed the test, being pushed through the door by their respective companion imposters, but the First Doctor passed. (Audio: Seven to One)
The Sixth Doctor traveled to the Dawn of Time and wrote "The Doctor was here" on an early planet shortly before regenerating into his Seventh. (Short story: Gone Too Soon)
The Fourteenth Doctor's kidneys are blue, which is apparently normal. (Comic: Liberation of the Daleks)
The Eleventh Doctor brooded in his TARDIS for several days after being accused of committing deadly crimes. During this time, he imagined all his previous incarnations interrogating him. When he tried to tell his past selves that he always left things better than he had found them, they all turned away and left him in disgust. (Comic: Pull to Open)
River Song's imprisonment in the Stormcage overlapped with the Delgado Master's. (Comic: The Master Plan)
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#doctor who#dw#dr who#classic who#new who#big finish#big finish doctor who#big finish audios#dw eu#doctor who expanded universe#doctor who eu#fifth doctor#eleventh doctor#tenth doctor#fourteenth doctor#twelfth doctor#fourth doctor#thirteenth doctor#sixth doctor#seventh doctor#first doctor#second doctor#third doctor#river song#delgado master#john benton#tardis#the doctor
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Details (quote plus thoughts) on Shen Qingqiu killing the Skinner Demon and his reaction afterwards, including his conversation with Luo Binghe about using his disciple as bait, and his promise that Luo Binghe will never suffer any misfortune. Long post. Warning for a brief description of graphic violence, specifically the Skinner Demon's body afterwards.
"The corner of Shen Qingqiu's mouth twitched, and he gathered all of his spiritual power into his right hand, lashing out with a palm strike and smacking Die-er in the chest. The demon flew back like a kite with a snapped string.
This was the first time that Shen Qingqiu had killed someone. But he didn't hold back, not even a little. First, because this was a book; second, because this was a demon who'd killed countless people; and third, because if he didn't, he'd be the one who got killed.
Shen Qingqiu gazed down at the horrible state of "Die-er": four limbs twisted and broken, bleeding from the seven facial apertures. He turned away, bombarding his own brain with a barrage of his three reasons until they blocked out the screen of his mind.
Striving to remain calm, he slowly stood and straightened, settled his hear and breathing, fixed his posture, and turned to Luo Binghe.
"This is your first time seeing someone 'eliminate demons and uphold justice,'" he said. "Were you scared?"
Luo Binghe's still-childish face was slightly pale.
"If you wish to 'uphold,' you must 'eliminate,'" said Shen Qingqiu, composed.
Luo Binghe gritted his teeth. His voice quavered. "Shizun, if this disciple may be so bold as to ask, just now..."
When the second half of the sentence didn't arrive, Shen Qingqiu spoke, "You want to ask, if that ceiling beam hadn't suddenly come crashing down, what was this master's plan?"
Shen Qingqiu had no choice but to suffer in silence, he yearned to tell Luo Binghe: Don't worry, even if the ceiling beam hadn't collapsed, perhaps the wall would have. Even if the wall hadn't, perhaps the pillar would have. Long story short, you definitely wouldn't have died, the boss definitely would have, and that's all there is to it.
But he couldn't speak these words, so he could only adopt an unpredictable air and evade the question by changing the subject. "If you're asking this, are you blaming this master?"
Luo Binghe shook his head. "No," he said, his expression sincere. "If this disciple could give up his life for Shizun, it would be an honor."
Shen Qingqiu was shaken. This kid really was too much of a white lotus!
"Then this master will promise you in kind," he said after thinking for a moment and settling on properly ambiguous words. "Even if an accident befalls this master, no misfortune will come to you."
This was an absolute truth. Even if Shen Qingqiu died one hundred times - ah, on hundred times - Luo Binghe, the protagonist with impervious plot armor, would go on living in perfect health.
"On this matter, I speak nothing but the truth." His voice resounded as he said this, his expression confident and collected, without the slightest hint of falsehood.
When Luo Binghe heard these words, it was as if his life force had been ignited. The sunflower that had begun to wilt revived, full of renewed vigor.
Holding Xiu Ya in both hands, Luo Binghe lifted the blade until it was even with his brows and presented it to Shen Qingqiu. "Shixun, your sword!" "
Volume 1, Chapter 2, pages 83-84.
This is a weird moment, emotionally, because it's both Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe's first time dealing with violent death (and demons). Shen Yuan didn't even go to look at the skinned body! (And neither did Luo Binghe!) Ming Fan did that part of the investigation! I doubt Shen Yuan in his past life was ever in a position where he saw a dead body at all, much less a mangled one or a skinned one. (I have personally seen donated human bodies (muscle + bone) used for the study of anatomy, and it is... an experience. It's not pleasant.)
They are both very young here. In fact, Luo Binghe is almost certainly both more acquainted with violence (being regularly beaten up as he trains with Cang Qiong, his shitty childhood beforehand) and with death (his adoptive mother's death, probably witnessing some other horrible stuff while he was on the streets) than Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan may have seen gore in media before, but this is very real. This is where his entire transmigration experience suddenly becomes a lot more real than it was before this mission.
Shen Yuan is a laid-back person who strives to go with the flow, and he's not afraid to deal out violence and to kill in defense, especially when the Skinner Demon is a serial killer. He goes on to face even greater violence throughout the novel and at least kills plenty of monsters at the Immortal Alliance Conference.
And yet it reads to me as though... he's seeking comfort here? He seems shaken-up. But he can't express it because that's OOC. And he presumably doesn't want to put the weight of his upset on Binghe even when he's allowed to share his emotions, when the OOC lock breaks shortly after this exchange. I think that he does want to comfort Binghe here, to apologize for using him as bait, to thank him for saving him, but also... I think he unconsciously wants someone to comfort him here, to talk it through with someone, to make himself feel better by looking after someone else.
Binghe, however, is not at a point where he's willing to be especially emotionally vulnerable with Shen Qingqiu. It's too early. "Shizun, I'm scared, please comfort me," probably would have gotten him beaten about a week ago. He's far more focused on the fact that Shen Qingqiu used him as bait, that's what scared him most, that his teacher might honestly want him dead. It's also a threat that's still present, so that's what he asks after.
And Shen Yuan can't really explain himself! (The System would't let him if he tried, probably!) So he dodges the question! In a way that makes him look pretty good, still, I think, kind of implying that he did do something. (Because otherwise it's way too much of a coincidence!) And when Binghe isn't interested in talking out the Skinner Demon's death, in talking out their mutual first encounter with violent death and killing, Shen Yuan just kind of... buries this incident immediately. He goes to the Ling Xi Caves shortly after this. He doesn't talk to anyone about it. Which is how he ends up dealing with... a lot of his negative feelings later on.
I think Binghe is lying when he says it would be an honor to die for Shen Qingqiu here, honestly. Maybe later on, when his relationship with Shen Qingqiu is even closer, he would mean it sincerely, but right now? It's too early, in my opinion. I think Binghe would genuinely start to mean this after Shen Qingqiu gets poisoned by Without a Cure for his sake, but not before. Maybe he wants to mean it now? He wants Shen Qingqiu to be worth dying for because otherwise... what is all this fucking suffering for?
Whenever I reread SVSSS, I'm struck by how... quiet... Luo Binghe is at the beginning. When Shen Qingqiu accidentally ends up spying on the first interaction we see between Luo Binghe and Ning Yingying, which becomes the scene of Ming Fan stealing the false jade pendant, Binghe is... quiet, thoughtful, determined, solemn, angry, resentful of Ming Fan, possibly also resentful of Ning Yingying. I don't think his self-confidence is high, but... I don't know, I don't think he's as much a "white lotus" here as he presents himself to be to Shen Yuan and his fellow disciples. His life has sucked. He's aware that the world is kind of shit, even he hopes his future will improve.
When Binghe is dealing with Meng Mo, he's savvy, stubborn, unimpressed, demanding, aware of his high ground and unwilling to cede it. Even after the time skip to right before the Immortal Alliance Conference, when Binghe and Shen Qingqiu's affection for each other is at its highest, Binghe isn't particularly... puppy-like at seventeen. He's eager to see Shen Qingqiu again, eager for his approval, but he's also relatively confident, almost suave with statements that could be read as flirtation, running parts of Qing Jing Peak on Shen Qingqiu's behalf.
(Part of the reason that Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe fail to immediately reconcile after Binghe returns from the Abyss is that Binghe has genuine anger over Shen Qingqiu's betrayal and isn't willing to just throw himself at Shen Qingqiu's feet to potentially immediately be stabbed again, and I don't think Binghe's ability to feel anger started with the Endless Abyss.)
I do think Binghe at the beginning of his time with Cang Qiong Mountain Sect wondered if / assumed that Shen Jiu's treatment of him was happening because he was genuinely doing something wrong. And I do think that after Shen Yuan shows up and starts saving him and treating him well, Binghe became intensely attached and went on to rationalize Shen Jiu's behavior as necessary correction of some wrongdoing + trying to make him stronger. But I think some small part of Binghe at this point in time must at least suspect that Shen Qingqiu is just as asshole. Binghe is too clever not to have considered the possibility, even if Shen Jiu repeatedly broke his heart disappointing him.
Anyway, Shen Yuan promising that no misfortune will come to Binghe? Even if some accident befalls his master? WILD thing to say at all. ABSURD thing to explicitly promise the protagonist.
It's possible that Shen Yuan still assumes that this point that he'll be able to prevent Luo Binghe from going into the Endless Abyss once the OOC lock breaks. I don't think Shen Yuan knows yet that the System is going to force him to push Binghe in or lose 10-20k B-Points and probably die. Shen Yuan still hopes that he'll be able to "cling to those thighs" and avert everything! It's so early on that the System probably hasn't made those threats yet!
It's also wild because... it seems like Shen Yuan is completely forgetting about emotional harm? He later tries (and kind of fails) to rationalize to himself that going into the Endless Abyss will just make Binghe stronger, so it's fine and good for Luo Binghe actually, not a misfortune, but he must know on some level that Binghe being in "perfect health" physically does not mean that Binghe will escape without mental and emotional scarring.
At the moment, I think that Shen Yuan desperately wants to comfort Binghe, without knowing how to do it without showing physical affection or friendliness, so he makes this RIDICULOUS promise. Partly because he still believes he'll be able to change things and he wants to promise to look after Binghe forever.
#tossawary svsss#tossawary rereads svsss#spoilers#character death#blood#violence#shen yuan#shen qingqiu#luo binghe#the skinner demon
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snippet that's haunting my brain but will probably never make it into a fic
"Wait," Ballad sat up suddenly from the grass, "i just had a thought!"
Across from him, slumped against Myth's back, their third team-mate didn't even bother looking up from the fames Master Sword he was tending. "Heaven preserve us."
Myth, not at all subtly, snorted at the sarcasm.
Ballad chose to ignore them both. "So you know how we call you Myth?" he turned to the blue clad hero, who nodded, "and we call you Legend?" and this time to the hero in red.
Legend's dark eyes still didn't lift to meet his own, still fixed on his sword, the only indication that he was even listening at all was that he kept answering. "Your point?"
"Does that make me The Man?"
Both of the others stare at him, and Ballad can;t help but preen a bit at their utter and obvious confusion.
"I'm sorry," Legend begins after a pause and a very hard stare, "but what?"
"Well you know," he motions to himself, "the man," a brief toss of the hand at their resident mono-syllabic friend, "the myth," he ends with a dramatic flourish at their youngest, "the legend."
Said Legend's head falls back, thumping against Myth's shoulders audibly. "Kill me."
Myth snorts again. "You know that makes Legend the coolest, right?"
He sniffs in answer. "It still makes me The Man."
"Sure."
"Begging for death here," rises, muffled, from where the young vet has slapped both hands over his face, and when both deny him, he groans.
#lu legend#tfh ballad#tfh myth#linked universe#linkeduniverse#ketto drabbles#triforce heroes trio#ketto writes
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Death of Paolo and Francesca 1887 ca. | Oil painting on canvas Gaetano Previati
Dante's Inf. V tells the tragic love story of Francesca da Rimini and Paolo Malatesta
Paolo Malatesta was the third son of the lord of Rimini, Malatesta da Verucchio. He was deemed by some to be a romantic sort, a man not really interested in the world around him, but there is evidence that he was indeed involved enough with the politics of the day to lend his sword arm in support of his father and his allies when needed. He was a handsome man with a winning nature. He was also married with children.
Francesca da Polenta (later Francesca da Rimini) was the beautiful young daughter of Guido, Lord of Ravenna, and as such, she was a valuable diplomatic pawn in the power games of Italian noblemen of the 13th century.
When Guido eventually found it expedient to make peace with his enemy, Malatesta da Verucchio, Paolo's father, he decided to seal the deal by marrying his daughter, Francesca, off to one of Malatesta's sons as a cunning political tie.
Unfortunately, his choice of husband had to be Malatesta's eldest son, Giovanni, who has been variously described as uncouth and deformed or crippled.
Guido realised that his romantic young daughter would not welcome such a man as her husband, so the handsome Paolo was invited to stand proxy for his brother at the wedding. Unfortunately, it would appear that no one told Francesca that Paolo was only the proxy.
Francesca had fallen instantly in love with the dashing Paolo and must have thought herself the luckiest girl in the world, so we can only imagine her feelings of horror when she awoke on the morning after her wedding night to find herself lying beside the 'deformed' Giovanni instead. Presumably it had been possible for the brothers to switch places in the darkened bedroom and the innocent Francesca had been cruelly duped.
One day the two were reading the tale of Guinevere and Lancelot, the Arthurian characters who succumb to their love for each other and engage in an extramarital affair that leads to the fall of Camelot. As Paolo and Francesca learned, how love had mastered Lancelot … they went pale, and caught each other’s glance. Coming to the part of the story where Guinevere finally gives in to Lancelot’s love for her, Paolo trembled to place his lips upon Francesca's mouth.
One day Giovanni found his wife's bedroom door locked and demanded to be admitted. He had been told of the affair by his servant and was determined to catch the lovers in flagrante. Paolo leapt towards a trapdoor in the floor as Francesca went to open the door and make her excuses for locking it.
However as she went to unlock the bedroom door she omitted to check that Paolo had actually made a clean getaway and closed the trapdoor behind him. Unfortunately his jacket had caught on the catch and he had been unable to free himself.
As soon as Giovanni came through the door he saw Paolo and ran at him with his rapier, despite the fact that it was his brother that he was about to kill. Francesca in a frenzy to save her lover threw herself in front of Giovanni's sword and was fatally stabbed. Giovanni, in his despair at inadvertently killing the woman he loved, withdrew his sword from her chest and then ran Paolo through with it, killing him instantly. It is said that the lovers were buried together.
#paolo malatesta#francesca da rimini#paolo and francesca#dantes inferno#dante alighieri#the divine comedy#literature#love#lovers#dark academia#gaetano previati#italian art#romanticism#19th century#art history#painting#oil on canvas#oil painting#art
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fixation, psychosis, or a secret third thing (love)
Summary: Dabi used to feel so much, but, ever since his accident, he hasn’t felt a damn thing. Not genuinely anyway. Not physically. His nerves are fried. His organs barely work. It’ll be a miracle if Hawks will be able to make him feel anything…
OR
Dabi ends up falling for a hero…Hawks ends up regretting everything.
DabiHawksWeek 2024: Prompt Seven: Songfic
Inspired by: Far Too Young To Die by Panic! At The Disco
THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY! TAGS BENEATH THE KEEP READING SECTION
Word Count: 5,647 words
AO3 link
Tags: DabiHawks, songfic, angst, smvt, Dabi-typical body h0rror, vom!ting, a little big of canon divergence, doomed relationship, DabiHawksWeek2024, DHWeekNSFW24, swearing, s3xual content, bratty b0ttom Dabi, top Hawks, making out, a n a l f!ngering, gay s3x, a n a l s3x, Dabi cries blood, identity reveal on a first name basis, implied past prostitution, Dabi can't feel pain (or anything on the outside but the inside is fair game), Hawks is a master manipulator but it's not his fault bc the HPSC brainwashed him, Dabi has his manga body type, seduction, trust issues, accidental branding
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Dabi stands at the harbor under the moonlight, pressing the pads of his fingers into the scars under his eyelids, blood wetting his fingertips as he tries to stop the bleeding. There are a handful of reasons why he’s crying…well…as much as Dabi is able to cry. Whenever he gets worked up, blood simply leaks from his fucked up tear ducts, threatening to burst the staples and welling up into his eyes until all he can see is crimson. It should be painful…but Dabi hasn’t felt anything in years. Dabi used to feel so much, but, ever since his accident, he hasn’t felt a damn thing. Not genuinely anyway. Not physically. His nerves are fried. His organs barely work. The only thing that still seems to be unwavering is his mind and his heart, ironically, considering the world believes him to be an insane, unfeeling killer. Admittedly, he does believe he’s gone insane, plagued with nightmares of his victim’s families…of what might’ve happened if he stayed in that hospital when he woke up from a coma…of what happened on the mountain that fateful night. Dabi barely slept at all anymore, scared of what might be waiting for him when he slipped into unconsciousness. It was only when his body forcibly shut down…or when he felt himself forcibly shutting down that he would sleep…if you could even call it sleeping. Lately though, his nightmares have changed. Lately, they’ve been filled with a certain pair of red wings…and they might not even be classified as nightmares anymore.
Dabi was, laughably, down bad for quite possibly the first time ever in his life. This meeting in particular had proved it. The rush he got from Hawks pulling the feather blade on him…pressing it neatly against his throat in a way that made Dabi’s skin crawl deliciously. It was a miracle he had kept his cool at all, simply putting up the uncaring front he’d crafted over the years. He found his mask slipping ever so slightly, the flirtatious tone in his voice painfully apparent when he nonchalantly pushed away the sword. He could see it in Hawks’ eyes…something wavered. That airtight hero persona flickered into nothingness for less than a moment. Was it reciprocation? Disgust? Confusion? Dabi didn’t know. He’d learned to not use the word hope anymore, so he couldn’t decide exactly what he thought about it.
It’s part of the reason why he’s crying. It’s that he feels like…if it is…if it is that word he refuses to think…then he doesn’t deserve it. Besides, what if Hawks really is a scummy double agent, and it would all be for nothing. His paranoia pounds against his skull, wrestling intimately with his heart. Why would Hawks ever be interested in him ? His face looks disgusting. There’s the threat that he’ll burst into flames and kill them both if he gets too worked up. He doesn’t even have any education past middle school. Hawks, on the other hand, has been trained by the Commission for roughly seventy percent of his life up to this point, getting the best education, the best clothes, the best doctors…the best…everything. Dabi hasn’t had a proper checkup in…who knows how long. He knew he was clean and that was enough. The only doctor he could really go to was Ujiko…and he’d rather just die than ask him for anything…not after what he almost did.
Truly…he feels pathetic. He’s never been good enough for anyone…not for his family…not for himself…not for this rotten society…why would he be good enough for Hawks? Why should he allow any sort of delusion into his life when he’d been carefully constructing his revenge? Why should he leave any room for Hawks to throw a wrench into his plans?
The cold air whips through Dabi’s inky black hair, and he squints up at the constellations, unable to make anything out through his shitty vision. He takes a deep breath before pulling the microphone in the collar of his jacket up to his mouth.
“Ready, Ujiko,” Dabi sighs, the revolting sensation of black muck pooling in his stomach and surging up his throat. Dabi lurches, the dark ooze pouring out of his mouth and surrounding him. For a few seconds, he’s suffocating, until the murkiness clears and he’s standing in the doctor’s laboratory.
…
…
Dabi’s alone, sitting on the couch of the League’s temporary hideaway, staring at the ceiling, wishing that a certain Pro Hero was sitting on it with him. He can’t get their warehouse interaction out of his head. Was Hawks really so ignorant as to think that Dabi’s incapable of thinking long-term? That’s been his whole shtick ever since he’d been living on the streets, biding his time and contemplating his vengeance. Hawks was supposed to be one of the top heroes in the nation, just a few points shy of…that thing . Perhaps Dabi really had succeeded with his plan, covering up his emotionally reactive nature with a cold and callous facade.
BZZT! BZZT!
The burner phone on the table vibrates. Only one person has the number to that phone. A sly smirk spreads across Dabi’s face as he grabs it, accepting the call and holding it to his scarred ear.
“Crawling back to me so soon?” Dabi sneers, prompting an irritated snort from Hawks on the other end of the phone.
“Just wanted confirmation that you’re not gonna pull a little stunt on me again,” The hero’s voice is low and laced with annoyance; it fills Dabi’s veins with a sick thrill.
“Live and learn, hero . You never could control me. There was never a point. You’re the one that still needs to prove yourself,” Dabi trills flirtatiously into the phone, the tension so thin you could cut it with a butter knife. “But…what happened the other day was…unfortunate.”
“I understand that plans change…I just would’ve liked a little heads up,” Hawks sighs, but his sudden change in tone sets off Dabi’s paranoia.
“You can’t trace this call,” He spits into the phone, his voice taking on a malicious edge, and Hawks clicks his tongue.
“I’m not…just…waiting to see what your next task for me is. I’m too fast for my own good. You know the slogan. Wanna be on top of this.”
“What, so you can betray me faster?” Dabi snaps.
The silence is chilling.
“I want you to trust me, Dabi. I’m genuinely interested. If you’ve done your research you know those bastards got their claws into me early. I started my first agency at eighteen. I could’ve been a normal kid with a normal life. Record-breaking is nice…but it would be nicer to be free.”
“That’s what I’m here for…to complicate and corrupt your little bird brain,” Dabi sneers, still struggling to buy Hawks’ words…but part of him desperately wants to. Hawks could just be whispering sweet nothings to placate him…but…what if… Dabi takes a deep breath. One final task to truly prove himself…Hawks has to take a life for Dabi.
“I’ve got a job for you alright.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The only thing running through Dabi’s mind when he walks off the stage in the basement of the Gunga Mountain Villa is that he wonders if Hawks showed up. Hawks successfully slaughtering Best Jeanist was the hottest thing anyone’s ever done for him…and, if he didn’t think he was attracted to Hawks before, he sure as hell was sure of it now.
The PLF members part, giving Dabi a wide berth as he strides through the crowd, eyeing him warily like he’s a bomb waiting to go off. To be fair, he killed a number of their comrades…but they fucking deserved it. It was kill or be killed…and he just happened to be better at killing. Embarrassingly, Dabi’s eyes light up when he spots a familiar pair of crimson wings through the sea of anarchists.
‘You’re too attached…’ Dabi’s thoughts degrade himself for allowing his emotions to slip through the cracks. Hawks is schmoozing with a woman…probably a fan with the way she’s acting all giddy. Something in the back of Dabi’s mind tells him to char her where she stands, but he swallows it down. He doesn’t need anyone else to catch on to his thing with Hawks…whatever the thing was…fleeting touches…light flirting…staring a little too long at one another…yet, neither of them had made a real move.
“You look happy, number two, up to somethin’?” Dabi raises his eyebrow as he approaches the Pro Hero.
“Nah, man. I was just waitin’ for you,” Hawks chuckles with a bright smile, and Dabi would be lying if he said he wouldn’t burn a thousand innocents to see that stupid smile for the rest of his days.
“You know…I wasn’t even sure you were gonna show,” Dabi mutters as they make their way through the crowd. Hawks is walking close enough to Dabi that their hands slightly brush against one another, but Dabi barely even registers it.
“Of course I’d show up for you ,” Hawks smirks, batting his eyelashes enough for Dabi to notice, regrettably making his heart skip a beat.
“Don’t flatter me,” Dabi mutters tersely as they reach the doors leading to the exit corridor.
“C’mon, Dabs. You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me?” Hawks whispers, just loud enough for Dabi to hear. “Why don’t we move this conversation to your bedroom?”
Dabi nearly chokes on his own spit, completely caught off guard by Hawks’ forwardness as he stops in his tracks. Sure, Hawks could just be seducing him for intel, but goddamnit if Dabi didn’t want him on top of him right now. Even if he couldn’t physically feel anything…Dabi at least wanted him to try . If he would just try, then it would be enough. It would be more than anyone else had ever done for him. He feels pathetic…pathetic for even letting these types of thoughts enter his brain…pathetic for romanticizing the idea… He’s supposed to be focused on one goal and one goal alone. Hawks isn’t a part of his plan…but…maybe…
“Hello? Dabi?” Hawks chuckles, waving his hand in front of the villain’s face. Dabi blinks, mouth dry and throat scratchy, zoning back into the world.
“Why?” The word falls from Dabi’s lips, full of confusion and apprehension. Why would Hawks want him if it wasn’t for intel? His body…he hasn’t… Dabi swallows, painfully aware of his own breathing pattern as memories come fluttering back to the front of his brain…memories that he’d pushed down. Before the league…after he woke up…living on the street…what he had to do just to get enough money for food… Sex with Hawks didn’t seem like it would mirror those memories though… Sex with Hawks sounded gentle… It sounded like he wouldn’t be treated like a toy. It sounded like Hawks would take care of him…and…isn’t that really one of the things that he’s always wanted? To be taken care of? For someone to look at him? For someone to make him feel like he’s worth it?
“Because you’ve got a thing for me…and I’ve got a thing for you? Unless I’ve misunderstood something. Thought most of your talk was flirty…even if it was on the meaner side. Why don’t we celebrate your promotion, lieutenant ,” Hawks shrugs with a cheeky smile, and Dabi doesn’t know what to think. Surely, he’s not that easy to read. No one else has managed to see through him…until now. Was he really even trying to hide it? Was he really staring that much? He’d be an idiot not to take this chance. It’s not like anyone else will ever want to be with him anyway…hell…Hawks might change his mind, too. Dabi looks around, making sure that they’re not being watched before grabbing Hawks’ wrist and pulling him behind a pillar.
“Hawks…I need you to know something…if…if we’re really gonna do this,” Dabi mutters, trying to piece together his thoughts appropriately.
“Hm?” Hawks hums, raising an eyebrow, waiting for Dabi to continue.
Dabi speaks incredibly vaguely, omitting names and locations and time frames, giving an extremely watered-down version of the state of his body and why. He also explains that it’ll be a miracle if Hawks will be able to make him feel anything at all...that his inability to feel physical pain also translated to an inability to feel physical pleasure. He hates the look in the hero’s eyes…he doesn’t want pity…but…there’s also clear determination in his gaze.
Before Dabi can open his mouth, Hawks is kissing him.
It’s such a strange sensation. He can’t feel the kiss…not really . Not the soft, tender kiss that Hawks gently presses to his lips. He can’t feel the hand that’s cupping the side of his face, just a ghost of a sensation that might’ve happened. Dabi’s eyelids flutter closed, and he attempts to kiss Hawks back, moving his lips in a way that he thinks is right…still…he practically feels nothing physically. That is…until Hawks licks deliberately into his mouth. Hawks’ warm tongue meets Dabi’s hot one, and…he can feel it; the villain eagerly jabs his tongue, sliding against Hawks’ and going further into his mouth. Hawks nearly yelps when Dabi starts practically tongue-fucking his mouth, the stitches in his tongue brushing against Hawks’ lip as Dabi traces his molars. Hawks groans…a sound that Dabi immediately becomes addicted to, and Dabi wraps his arms around the hero, grasping at the back of his jacket and pulling him close.
Finally, they both come up for air.
“Fuck, your tongue’s long,” Hawks snickers, wiping the spit from his lips with the back of his gloved hand, and Dabi swears he feels blood rushing to his cheeks and his groin. Despite his fears, Hawks has at least turned him on…which is a start. He wants more …more of this animalistic sensation that he’s gone his whole life without. He wants the electricity of mutual worship and raw pleasure.
“Let’s get outta here, birdie.”
…
…
Dabi didn’t care who saw them. Not anymore. He practically dragged Hawks up staircase after staircase, through the halls of villa, eventually through his door before slamming and locking it behind them.
“Gotta ask. You clean?” Hawks clears his throat as he slips out of his jacket, draping it over the chair at Dabi’s desk.
“Yeah…you?” Dabi mutters uncomfortably, thankful that he was able to speak truthfully. He follows Hawks’ lead, letting the conductor cuffs of his jacket fall to the floor.
“Course I’m clean. HPSC regulations,” Hawks replies curtly, and, then, he’s all over the villain once again.
This time, it’s Dabi who moans, wanton and needy as his tongue massages Hawks’, and the two manage to sloppily kick off their shoes as the hero walks the villain backward until they’re both falling onto his bed. Dabi’s fingers run through Hawks’ hair, pulling him as close as humanly possible as Hawks’ hands grip the scars on his shoulders.
“Lube?” Hawks murmurs breathlessly between kisses.
“Nightstand drawer,” Dabi answers into Hawks’ open mouth, tongues intertwining. Dabi feels the faint wind from Hawks’ feathers, hearing the opening and closing of a drawer in the darkness.
Dabi sharply inhales when he feels Hawks’ hands at the hem of his shirt. How is Hawks going to react to his patchworked body of skin that doesn’t even belong to him? I mean…yeah, he’s seen his arms…but…the rest of him? Dabi certainly didn’t have Hawks’ body…with all his curves of muscle that Dabi had seen in a swimsuit magazine once. Dabi hated how he looked…he hated seeing himself in the mirror…a modern-day Frankenstein, only recently having enough to eat to put some weight on his formerly skeletal frame. By comparison, Hawks was a Greek god…though compared to anyone , that metaphor would still suffice. He’s so lost in his thoughts that he never noticed Hawks freeze when Dabi flinched.
“If you’re not comfortable we can stop,” Hawks murmurs reassuringly, letting the pulled fabric fall back on Dabi’s pale lower stomach. The sentence almost makes Dabi sob, the gentleness in Hawks’ voice…it’s almost too much. Dabi isn’t used to anyone being gentle with him.
“I want this,” Dabi rasps, the dull throbbing under his eyes starting up again, blood threatening to seep through.
Hawks smiles, eyes sultry and seductive. Tenderly, he lifts up Dabi’s shirt, mindful of the staples, avoiding snagging; when the last of it lifts off of Dabi’s head, a few feathers send it over to the chair with Hawks’ jacket. Dabi holds his breath, waiting for Hawks to comment about his body…waiting for his lips to curl and his nose to wrinkle and for him to walk away and pretend this never happened.
Instead, Hawks’ fingertips carefully trace over Dabi’s scars that run between his pecs and stomach, like he’s memorizing a map.
“You’re beautiful,” The hero whispers, and the muscle beating in Dabi’s chest twists. Dabi reaches around Hawks’ neck, unclasping the button above his wings that holds his top on. Hawks grins before stepping off the bed to unhook his belt and pull off his pants, which is when Dabi realizes that his top has been a leotard this whole time. In his aroused state, he fumbles with his own belt to get his pants and boxers off, and, when he’s finally successful, Hawks is on top of him again. The Pro doesn’t even bat an eye at the obvious skin grafts or the healed stitches on his dick that didn’t need staples…he doesn’t make fun of him when he sees the scars that border stretch marks on his thighs and lead down to his ankles. Hawks’ gaze is full of devotion…full of emotions and words that Dabi doesn’t think he deserves. And yet…here they are…vulnerable…skin-to-skin. Hawks mouths at Dabi’s neck, sinking his teeth hard enough into his skin for Dabi to be aware of it, and the whimper that bursts from his throat is more than embarrassing. Dabi’s face flushes, unable to fully grasp the heat of Hawks’ body pressed against him…unable to sense the way his hands dance up and down his sides…or the way his lips caress the scars. Dabi’s too focused on their staggered breaths to hear the subtle squeeze of lube on Hawks’ fingers.
The moment Hawks slips a finger inside him, Dabi’s putty in his hands, moaning and groaning like a bitch in heat as he flexes against the slow roll of Hawks’ knuckle, trying to get more friction. His insides…there’s sensation there…an overwhelming amount compared to his outsides. He’s inconsolable, mouth agape, blood threatening to spill beneath his eyes as he tries not to cry from the pleasure. He didn’t know sex could feel this good…and fuck did he feel good. It felt personal…it had meaning …things that Dabi desperately craved.
“You’re so gorgeous like this, Dabi,” Hawks croons, lube dripping from the villain’s hole as the hero continues to pump his finger in and out. The response is only a weak groan that’s halfway between a gasp and a sob as Dabi’s arms grab at Hawks’ neck, pulling him down for a filthy kiss. Hawks’ eyelids flutter shut as he obliges to Dabi’s greedy gesture, slipping his tongue into the villain’s mouth, tracing his scarred bottom lip. Dabi, out of practice and overwhelmed, practically sticks his tongue down Hawks’ throat, whimpering and silently pleading for more. He wanted to feel more. It was heaven to finally feel …and for the sensations to be ecstasy.
“You want another one?” Hawks whispers, voice sweeter than nectar, and Dabi nods, wincing as the hero coaxes a second finger inside. The stretch is foreign, mildly uncomfortable, but Dabi’s so used to being numb that he doesn’t care. Hawks delicately curls his fingers, the rhythmic motion making heat coil in the pit of Dabi’s stomach…heat that is far different from the fire he’s used to. Dabi cries out as his muscles relax, allowing another finger to disappear inside him. To Dabi, hours have passed, maybe even days, time no longer has any meaning as his tongue swirls around Hawks’, sucking on his bottom lip as their heated breaths fill the night air. Hawks whispers soft praises between slutty lip locks, comforting Dabi all the while until the pain resolves and pleasure pulses through the villain. Hawks takes note of how much the muscle gives and decides to carefully pull his fingers out, leaving Dabi practically writhing beneath him, half-hard for the first time in who knows how long.
Hawks’ eyes flutter shut, head tilting back and giving Dabi a full view of his pulsing jugular as he smooths lube over his erection. Feathers gently spread Dabi’s legs, pushing them up so Hawks can get a perfect view of his hole as he prepares to slip inside.
“Wait,” Dabi blurts, heart pounding and blood roaring in his ears.
“Having second thoughts?” Hawks raises his eyebrow.
“Touya.” The name leaves Dabi’s lips before he can take it back. It’s too late.
Hawks cocks his head, confused. Dabi can’t turn back now.
“My name…My real name. It’s Touya. You can…you can call me Touya,” Dabi reveals, his voice quivering.
The corners of Hawks’ eyes…usually so sharp, focused, and calculated, seem to soften.
“Mine’s Keigo.” Too late for Hawks to take back the secret that the Commission would severely punish him for leaking. It felt…right. It felt right to finally speak it aloud…and it felt right to exchange this secret with Dabi…sanity be damned.
“Keigo…that’s cute,” Touya smiles, relief washing over him. They’ve both shared something intrinsic. Something precious. It makes Touya feel…safe. He can’t remember the last time he actually felt safe.
Breath hisses through Touya’s gritted teeth as Keigo’s tip slowly stretches him open, pain mixing with undeniable pleasure.
“Fuck,” Touya whines, hating how stupid his voice must sound all twisted and submissive, but Keigo is intoxicated by it. Inch by inch, Keigo pushes inside, punching the air from Touya’s lungs until they’re skin-to-skin.
“Just breathe,” Keigo mutters reassuringly, letting the villain’s body get accustomed. Touya feels so… full . That’s the best way he can describe it. He feels…grounded…which is saying a lot considering most days he feels like a vengeful spirit floating through purgatory. At the same time, Keigo tries not to swoon at how hot Dabi’s insides feel wrapped around his cock.
Dabi’s dick twitches, his chest rising and falling, mind numb and yet so alive all at once. His brain is fuzzy, drowning in pleasure as he swallows hard, taking in all of the new ethereal sensations floating through his body, feeling the pain ebb.
“I’m ready,” He rasps, saliva pooling in his mouth as Keigo’s hips rock, and Touya winces at the friction.
“Easy, baby,” Keigo purrs, and Touya’s brain melts at the pet name.
“ Keigo ,” He moans his name without thinking, and the hero almost disintegrates from the raw emotions that surge through his body upon hearing that word spoken in that voice.
“Oh, Touya, ” Keigo groans, his tone mimicking the villain’s as he carefully digs his fingers into Touya’s unscarred hips as he grinds, watching his cock vanish and reappear over and over and over again. His golden eyes lift up, meeting Touya’s glittering turquoise, and, frankly, he thinks Touya looks angelic right now, blissed out with flushed cheeks, sweaty and uncoordinated and…gorgeous.
Hawks fully assumed this approach to Dabi would end in senseless fucking…chasing pleasure selfishly…but he was eighty-five percent sure they were genuinely making love right now. Dabi desperately grabs for Hawks, fingers finding purchase and sinking fingernails into his thick biceps.
“Can we ~ fuck~ can we kiss - ah- please?” Touya’s broken voice practically begs, and he can’t believe he’s fucking resorted to begging but if he doesn’t taste Hawks’ tongue soon he might just explode. The request makes Hawks’ heart flip in his chest…he’s never reached this level of intimacy with anyone before…and it’s with Dabi of all people? Keigo dips down, never once breaking his sensual rhythm of rolling his hips as his lips meet the villain’s.
Touya gasps into the kiss, hands reaching up to tangle in Hawks’ blonde locks, holding him so he can’t break free. Touya’s inhumanly long tongue slithers into Hawks’ mouth, tracing his soft palate and massaging his tongue before he pulls away with a cry as Hawks changes the angle. Keigo delicately touches Touya’s prostate with his tip, and Touya’s thighs shake feebly.
“You feel so good , Touya,” Keigo huffs, face inches away from the villain. They lock eyes once again, the eye contact stabbing through their souls. The praise goes right to Touya’s cock, which would be painfully hard if Touya could even feel it. His insides feel like they’re on fire with desire…ecstasy boiling in his veins like a raging inferno. He didn’t know these types of sensations could even exist…especially for him. He grabs onto Keigo, palms splaying in the space between his wings, fingernails scratching red lines against Hawks’ back. The heat coils in the pit of his stomach…and then…Touya feels his emotions feed into his Quirk.
“Not safe…gonna… hah~ah! Oh fuck, I’m gonna burn you!” Touya warns, red blurring his vision as he feels the flames prickling beneath his skin.
In Hawks’ mind, he has to let him do it. If he wants Dabi to trust him, he has to let him do it. His Achilles’ heel…this is quite possibly the most dangerous thing he’s ever done. He’s going to risk his wings catching on fire…all to ease the process of getting as much intel as possible. After this, he doubts Dabi will let him out of his sight much. Not that Hawks wasn’t enjoying this. Dabi was attractive…to Hawks at least. Even if the majority of it was for show, Hawks was into Dabi…at least a little bit. Enough for him to feel like he's fucking with feelings involved...enough for him to tell him his first name.
“It’s fine,” Hawks chokes out, his languid thrusts rhythmically slamming into Dabi.
“Don’t wanna hurt you,” Touya sobs into his ear, and he can’t even believe those words are coming out of his mouth after everything he’s done. He can’t fathom the fact that he doesn’t want to hurt Hawks. The hero blinks, abruptly taken aback; if anything, he’d assumed Dabi was a sadist.
“It’s okay,” Keigo grunts, and that’s all Dabi needs to hear before he’s uncontrollably “crying”, rivers of red pouring from his lower eyelids and out from underneath the scars in his eyes. The smell of blood catches Hawks off guard, but Dabi had warned him about this…about the state of his body.
Touya completely loses his composure when he comes, hips stuttering, legs clamping tightly against Hawks’ waist, palms igniting in searing heat in the space between Keigo’s wings. Dabi gasps, trying his best to turn the heat down and quiet his Quirk, more bloody tears streaking down his face when he hears Keigo stifling anguished curses.
Keigo keeps going, fucking Touya through his orgasm, pulling moan after moan from Touya’s throat until the climax shoots lightning down his spine and into the villain.
The fire stops...the sound of sizzling skin fills the air.
When Hawks pulls out, the emptiness almost throws Touya into a pit of despair, and blood seeps out of his eyes for the millionth time that night. He shudders, feeling like that lost little kid on the streets again…alone. Almost immediately, Hawks' wings come cascading over the two of them, encasing Dabi in a crimson cocoon…safe…and intimate. His heart stills…the memories drift away…his mind settles. The sudden calm he’s experiencing…merely at his touch…There’s no other possible explanation. Dabi’s in love…with a hero .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Four months later, Keigo Takami finds himself unable to sleep. Ironically, he’d been sleeping in Dabi’s bed just fine, vulnerable next to one of Japan’s most wanted. It felt…wrong. What he is doing is wrong. He knows it in his heart and his gut…but…he can’t turn back now. Killing Twice is going to be the second hardest thing Keigo will ever have to do…the first will be betraying Dabi’s trust. Trust that was so painstakingly hard to earn…trust that Dabi probably would never have in anyone else again…and it would be all Keigo’s fault.
His duty is more important than such trivial things like feelings…that’s what the HPSC has taught him. But…a part of him…a part of him has grown soft. It was what he had silently been afraid of, though the Commission leader reassured him that they thought he was the one person who could do it. They told him to get information and trust by any means necessary…even if it meant sleeping with Dabi. After all, he was one of the only people they couldn’t find any intel on…what better way to get closer ?
Originally, Hawks was disturbed by the thought. The idea of sleeping with a villain …someone who’s stolen innocent lives for his own sick and twisted ideals…ideals that solely focused on burning everything Hawks stood for to the ground. But…as time went on…he felt like he got to know Dabi better...especially once the dam broke, and Dabi spilled. Unconsciously, he was humanized in Hawks’ mind…no… Keigo’s mind. Keigo knew bits and pieces of his past…and Keigo knew his first name. The only leads he had to go on…but…he hadn’t shared them yet. It felt…wrong. Once again. On the other side of the coin. It would be wrong for him to divulge intricate pieces of information that weren’t pertinent to his mission. Keigo’s morals tended to get the best of him when he found loopholes. Because he also knew Dabi as a person now. He knew he hated fish. He knew what side of the bed he preferred to sleep on. He knew what his favorite constellation was. He knew the villain intimately…which he had never planned on.
Keigo sits up in bed, turning to look at Dabi’s sleeping form. He’d found it was easy to tire Dabi out after an orgasm or two; Dabi even said it made him less likely to have nightmares, but that might’ve just been bullshit.
Tomorrow…the war begins. Tomorrow…he has to break Dabi’s heart. Keigo feels his chest tighten and his throat close. Oh, he’s in too deep. He’s proving the Commission leader wrong…he isn’t perfect.
Dabi stirs, grumbling curses as he sleepily blinks awake, roused by Keigo’s soft stifled sobs. Keigo hurriedly starts wiping away tears; he can’t be weak in front of Dabi . Especially if they’re going to potentially kill each other tomorrow. Oh God…the thought of killing Touya ? Tears silently stream down the hero’s face.
“Are you…are you crying?”
The question cuts through the air like a knife.
“Bad dream.”
You could hear a pin drop in Dabi’s bedroom. Keigo thumbs away his tears, but they keep coming. The hero pulls his knees to his chest, putting his head down.
“Hey, uh…I don’t give a shit if you cry…I used to be a big crybaby before my tear ducts got fucked up,” Dabi scoffs, using self-deprecation to ease the tension as he props himself up on his elbows, trying to catch Keigo’s silhouette in the thin rays of moonlight that pour in through the window. Touya takes a deep breath, sitting up beside Keigo before apprehensively putting the palm of his hand in the space between Keigo’s wings, rubbing the scarred shape of his handprint from their first time. It felt disgusting to care, but Dabi couldn’t ignore it anymore.
The motion of Touya rubbing his back almost makes Keigo cry even harder. He’s going to lose this forever. He’s going to absolutely destroy Touya. He has to. He has no choice; he doesn’t want that bright future he’s always envisioned to be snuffed out by the PLF’s plans. If he doesn’t kill Twice…so many lives will be lost…so many innocents…Keigo’s heart isn’t worth that price. Keigo isn’t worth that price. Keigo can’t see through the tears and the shadows, and he doesn’t know how he’s not openly losing it. He’s sitting there like a statue…eerily still.
Touya, half-asleep and completely out of his fucking mind, decides the best way to distract Keigo is to say:
“Hey…uh…this might be a bad time…but…I want you to know…that…I lo-”
'Fuck .'
That does it. Hawks has to completely shut Keigo down. The tears stop flowing. He can’t let his mission be compromised. He has to stick to his guns…stick to everything the Commission has driven into him since he was a child. Before Dabi can finish his sentence, Hawks turns to face him…and kisses him.
For once …Dabi feels everything. Touya feels the passion in the kiss. He feels how desperately Hawks clings to him, sucking on the unburned flesh of his top lip, gently tracing Dabi’s tongue with his own, teeth clicking together. Touya kisses him back, fingers fluttering through feathers, and they fall back onto the pillows.
One last kiss…one last kiss while they’re far too young to die…but they just might kill each other in the morning…
#my hero academia fanfiction#dhweeknsfw24#dabihawksweek24#dabihawksweek 2024#dabihawks#dabihawks angst#dabihawks smut#dabi x hawks#toukei#dabi smut#hawks smut#dabi#hotwings#fanfic#ao3 writer#keigo takami#touya todoroki angst#dabi angst#hawks angst#dabihawks fic#dabihawks fanfic
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"I do not know what came over Father's mind to marry you as his concubine when you are as young as me, but I will not stand for it."
She watches him lazily from where she is resting, her cheek prepped on her palm and her elbow digging into the soft mattress. The entire side of her petite body lies on the bed regally, the skirts of her silk dress daintily flowing around her, and she reaches for the bowl of grapes placed in the bedside table.
"No matter how hard you protest, nothing will change," she hums, her bright eyes glinting with amusement.
He ignores her statement.
"You are a wildcard."
She pops the grape into her mouth. "And?"
"Which is why I must find a way to eliminate you. Heaven only knows what you are planning to do, enchanting my Father, the damn general of this country, to take you as a concubine."
"I am a wildcard," she agrees amicably, rising from her bed with the grace of a feline. "A loose cannon. But everyone knows a wildcard is a blessing when you know how to deal with your own cards."
His eyes narrow at her. "What are you implying, woman?"
A wicked smirk curls the corners of her lips, and she tilts her head at him condescendingly. Locks of her hair cascade down from the jade pin holding them together in a messy bun, and the shape of her dress cling to her body enticingly, as if tempting him to unwrap them and play with her in bed for a bit.
No. Bad thoughts.
She studies him, entertained but scornful.
"Deal with your cards well, make your decisions wisely. My actions will be based on your actions. If you want to wield me as a weapon, prove yourself first. Alternatively, I can just slit my dear husband's throat, cause an uprising, and slink away in the chaos."
"So you are planning on assassinating him," he intones.
"And cause a massacre," she helpfully adds, shrugging.
He grasps the hilt of his sword that is hanging by his side, scrutinizing and ready to attack at the slightest hint of hostility. "Why?"
"Master wants it so he can take over. It'll stabilize the country, he believes. But what the old fool doesn't know is that I have other plans."
"Such as?"
"Apart from uprooting this country's corruption?" She smiles a grin, all bite and teeth. "We're not close enough for me to share the details with you, boy. Unless you want to work with me and save your Father's life?"
Three choices. First, to kill the woman. Second, to let her be with her plans and allow her to cause a massacre that will include the assassination of his Father. Third, work with her and reduce the bloodshed, only killing when necessary.
All decisions include carnage.
"Fine," he snaps. "But once this is all over, I don't want to see your face here anymore, understand?"
The delight that brightens up her pretty face is vicious and full of malice.
"Deal."
-by ahopelessromantika-
Note: I imagine this as an enemies to lovers plot. Like, for clarification, the concubine is about the same age as our ML here, as stated in the first dialogue, and my mind just can't help but ship them lol!
#writing community#writeblr#writing#writing ideas#writing prompts#fiction#writing prompt#dialogue prompt#dialouge prompts#writers on tumblr#fiction prompts#fiction writing#romance prompts#romance writing#story prompt#short story#creative writing#story writing#writblr#writers of tumblr#writer community#female writers#writers society#writerscommunity#writerscorner#writer of tumblr
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stardust_falling 2023-24 Gift and Giveaway Fics Masterpost!
While SVLPO has been on hiatus, I've participated in several gift exchanges and also written three fics for a follower milestone giveaway, so I decided I would go ahead and list them all in one big post!
SV Summer Solstice Exchange:
Mirror's Reflection
Pairing: Shen Jiu/&PIDW!Native Shen Yuan
Rating: M (read warnings!)
Length: 63k
After killing his cruel shifu at the Immortal Alliance Conference, Shen Jiu rejects Yue Qingyuan’s attempts to bring him to safety and flees the conference. By chance, while fleeing the cultivation world’s pursuit of Wu Yanzi’s accomplice, he happens to run into a boy who shares his face and surname. This boy, Shen Yuan, is nothing like Shen Jiu— he’s the third young master of a wealthy family, who has lived his life without a single moment of hardship, and spends his days reading novels and daydreaming about traveling the world. Shen Jiu, jealous of his double’s easy life, is surprised and a bit baffled to find that Shen Yuan is discontent with living his life safely inside the walls of his family’s manor, and even a bit jealous of Shen Jiu’s ability to go where he pleases and do what he wishes without worrying about his family’s reputation or concerns. After Shen Jiu is mistaken for the lookalike by members of Shen Yuan’s own household, he proposes an solution: that the two switch places, letting Shen Jiu live Shen Yuan’s comfortable, idle life while the other boy travels the world.
SV Winter Solstice Exchange:
Basic Instincts
Pairing: Gen Luo Binghe & Sha Hualing & Mobei-jun, background Luo Binghe/Shen Qingqiu
Rating: T
Length: 5k
Keeping the demon world from collapsing into shambles isn't an easy task. Sometimes, Sha Hualing needs to let out a bit of pent-up tension with a nice friendly brawl against her fellow rulers.
QiJiu Secret Santa Exchange:
The Weight of a Promise
Pairing: Yue Qingyuan/Shen Jiu (pre-slash)
Rating: M (read warnings!)
Length: 27k
Yue Qi made a promise, and he will do whatever it takes to keep it-- even if he nearly destroys himself in the process.
At Cang Qiong Mountain's sword trials, Yue Qi rashly draws the ancient, powerful Xuan Su sword from Wan Jian Peak. He hopes that such a powerful weapon will give him the strength he needs to rescue and protect the friend he left behind, but when the backlash of a failed sword bond nearly costs him his life, he learns that impulsive decisions can have far-reaching consequences.
SV System Server CNY Exchange:
Counterfeit Jade
Pairing: Luo Binghe/Shen Qingqiu, referenced Yue Qingyuan/Shen Jiu
Rating: M (non-explicit sex)
Length: 11k
Shen Qingqiu would have been perfectly content to live the rest of his life as Shen Qingqiu, thank you very much. Unfortunately, the system had other ideas. It seemed that Shen Qingqiu— no matter which soul had donned this persona— was doomed to have the secrets of his past dragged out into the open and laid bare for everyone to see.
100-Follower Milestone Giveaway:
Twists of Fate
Pairing: Shang Qinghua/Shen Jiu (pre-slash)
Rating: T
Length: 8k
Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky's one goal as Shang Qinghua is to live as long and comfortably as possible in this world-- and to that end, he has resolved to stay as far away from the scum villain, Shen Qingqiu, as he possibly can, since nothing good could come from that association. Now, if only the two of them could stop being sent out on missions together!
Unfortunately, when someone makes a mistake, it's usually left to the two of them to clean it up-- and sometimes, Shang Qinghua can't help but be reminded of some of his own mistakes that can't be untangled so easily.
Two Birds
Pairing: Yue Qingyuan/Shen Jiu (pre-slash)
Rating: T
Length: 5k
Newly-ascended peak lords Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu are still adjusting to their new roles. When they attend a meeting for the upcoming Immortal Alliance Conference, Yue Qingyuan notices that his shidi is very tense, and he resolves to do what he can to ease his mind.
An Unlikely Mediator
Pairing: Yue Qingyuan/Shen Jiu
Rating: T
Length: 5k
Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan find a stray kitten while out on a mission and decide to bring it back to Cang Qiong Mountain. This makes all the difference.
OR
The unstoppable force of Qijiu's Communication Issues meets the immovable object of Cat-Induced Inertia.
----
Thank you to everyone who reads, comments, & gives kudos, and I look forward to another year of writing!
#svsss#qijiu#jiuyuan#jiuplane#shen jiu#yue qingyuan#shen qingqiu#luo binghe#bingqiu#svsss fanfic#zhuixing writing#zhuixing fics
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Gu Long fanarts from last year
阿吉&三少爷
白飞飞&王怜花
卓东来&司马超群
#fanart#wuxia#武侠#武俠#Third Young Master's Sword#三少爷的剑#三少爺的劍#武林外史#Heroes Shed No Tears#英雄无泪#英雄無淚#Gu Long#古龙#古龍
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When the dragons fly(book 2)
Three years have now passed. Your dear little brother had nearly learned everything, and you still wonder about your elven friend's true identity. But then, you see a troubling dream that reminds you of a certain fortune teller's prediction.
[] = High Valyrian
Chapter 13
Warnings: mentions of wars, coming battles, infections, injured throats, muteness, getting hit, Aelon getting struck hard, suspicions, nightmares, fire, burning, getting killed, and troubling predictions.
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Three years have passed.
Galloping through the forest, Maedhros returned to the village with Aelon riding right behind him. The young teen rode upon a black and white horse borrowed from the village's stablemaster for his riding lessons, having grown tall enough to handle the reins and the stirrups on his own.
"That was good, but you still leave yourself behind," Maedhros said as they came to a trot.
"Learn to speed it up a bit. That way, you don't end up being left behind or get caught by your pursuers," he added.
Aelon shook his head. "Maybe you're just going too fast for me. How do you expect me to catch up with you when you ride faster than the wind?" he asked, making Maedhros chuckle.
"Well, you need to learn how to ride as fast as the wind. You won't get anywhere if I continue going easy on you," Maedhros replied as they arrived at your house.
In a small training field that you had set up for Eweniel and Ramuel, who also wanted to learn how to shoot with a bow, you stood behind them as they aimed at the targets.
"And shoot,"
The two released their arrows. Ramuel's arrow hit a few rings beneath the dot, but Eweniel struck bullseye with hers.
"Nice!" Eweniel grinned as it was her third time in a row hitting the center of the target. "Well done, Ewe. You're exceptionally talented at this," you praised, then glanced down at Ramuel. "Ramuel, aim a bit higher. The arrow will fly farther and won't fall to the ground at the last minute," you instructed.
"Okay..." Ramuel said quietly. "Don't overthink it. It's only been a week since you started learning. You have time to master this," you reassured him, then noticed Maedhros and Aelon returning from their ride.
"This will be all for today," you said.
"When will I get to learn how to wield a sword?" Eweniel asked as she and Ramuel went to pick up their arrows. "Once your parents get comfortable with the idea. Be happy that they allowed you to learn archery," you answered.
"But I'm already so good shooting with the bow. You said it yourself," Eweniel said. "I did, but I can't go against your parent's wishes," you replied, making her groan. "Be patient. I'm certain they will eventually let you train with the sword soon enough," you tried to assure her. "But even Aelon has a real sword now. It will take ages before my parents will finally let me hold a sword," Eweniel pointed at the sword attached to Aelon's hip, a gift from Maedhros after learning all he could from him.
"Oh, don't be like that. You still have time," Aelon said while petting his horse.
You chuckled as Maedhros walked up to you, and Aelon left to return his horse to the stablemaster. Eweniel and Ramuel also left after cleaning up.
"They have become more energetic. I wonder how long it will take before Eweniel decides to train herself to catch up with Aelon," you mused.
"Well, they can become more rebellious at this age, so it's not impossible," Maedhros remarked, then observed your village as people were busier than usual.
"There seems to be more unrest than usual," Maedhros stated.
"Yes... it's about an upcoming battle. Some houses from other villages and people have been called to join a cause to fight Morgoth, or so I heard," you explained. "It was apparently some elven lord from the Noldor who made such a call," you added.
"And what do you think about it?" Maedhros asked. "It's a bit sudden, to be honest," you answered. "Morgoth and the Noldor had been quiet since the war of the sudden flames. To suddenly call to arms to fight after hearing someone steal a silmaril from Morgoth is a bit unexpected," you explained.
"I certainly hope the lord behind this knows what he is doing and has enough knowledge to pull this off," you stated.
"You do not think he might not be able to pull this off?" Maedhros asked.
"If he manages to rally all the people of Beleriand to fight for his cause, then maybe he has a good chance. I don't know much about Morgoth and his stronghold in the north, but I do know that his power is great, and he might be hiding a few tricks up his sleeve," you said, looking at him. "Who knows what he has been doing inside his fortress for all these years," you added. "So rallying an attack like this, caution should be the best course of action."
"My father always told me that the worst enemy is the one you know less about," you stated.
"You're... not wrong, but I think Morgoth will fail this time," Maedhros said, quietly contemplating your words.
You observed him from the corner of your eye. He was quiet and seemingly lost in thought.
"Anyway... Nelyo," you said, gaining his attention. "There is going to be a celebration feast soon. We had a good harvest year, and because of the upcoming battle, we decided to hold it early. If you have time, would you be willing to join us?" you asked with a hopeful tone.
"I... I'll see what I can do," Maedhros answered. "Sorry, but I must get going now," he said, then left.
You watched as he climbed back on his horse and rode out of the village. Your mind was bothered by his strange behavior. He had started visiting less and seemed more restless than ever. You were also still wondering about his real identity. He has opened up a bit to you for the past years, but there was still so much mystery around him.
"Hey, is something wrong? Did Nelyo already leave?" Aelon asked after returning from his walk to the stablemaster.
"Nothing. Let's take a hike in the mountains. We need to check on the food storage and the younglings," you said and then walked into your house, trying to brush off the suspicions you had about your elven friend.
At the mountains, Baleria was outside, feasting upon a deer she had caught for herself. Aegar and Viserya were eyeing her prey, even daring to sneak closer to try to have a bite, but the older dragon growled them away, slightly annoyed by their presence and constant attempt to steal her prey.
You were standing in front of Smoke with Samuel, trying to teach the young dragon to breathe fire upon the dead rabbit on the ground.
"[Dracarys]," You said as Smoke only croaked at you, confused by the word and why you would not allow him to eat the rabbit.
"[Dracarys]," you said again.
Smoke only crouched down, attempting to lean his head forward enough to snatch the rabbit. "Smoke..." you looked at him with a warning tone. His ears flattened against his head, and he stared at you with pleading eyes. "Don't even try it," you said sternly, causing him to hiss and pull back.
"You get to eat the rabbit. If you do the thing," you gently explained.
"[Dracarys]," you said with a commanding tone.
Smoke stared intently at the rabbit. Black smoke started to billow out of his nostrils, and his chest began to steam as he took in deep breaths, preparing to release his breath.
You and Samuel watched as Smoke released a puff of smoke, then released a blast of scorching hot air onto the rabbit, burning off the fur and steaming the meat until it was piping hot.
Samuel clapped his hands with an excited smile as you finally allowed Smoke to eat the steaming rabbit.
"He will finally be able to feed for himself from now on," you stated as Smoke swallowed the rabbit in one bite.
“How long will it take for them to breathe real fire?” Samuel asked while petting Smoke.
“Dragons should be able to breathe fire when they’re three months old, but since it took this long for those three to even learn how to produce hot air. There is a possibility that it will take many more years for them to learn, or they may never learn at all. I wonder if this is why they were abandoned in that nest,” you said thoughtfully.
Smoke then tried to chirp, but it came out as a mix of groans and croaks, which was not a natural sound from a dragon.
“Oh, Smoke,” Samuel said as the dragon looked embarrassed by the sound he produced.
“(Name). Is there truly no medicine that could help Smoke to get his voice back?” Samuel questioned while comforting the dragon. “He sounds worse each day. At this rate, he is going to sound like a lizard toad,” he added.
“I’m afraid so. That infection Smoke suffered last year left a nasty injury to his vocal cords,” you replied with a pitying look since it meant the young dragon would be unable to vocalize for the rest of his life. “I don’t think he would even be able to find himself a mate with that voice,” you added.
“Well, he doesn’t have to worry about finding a mate. He could stay with me so he wouldn’t be lonely,” Samuel smiled. You smiled in return, touched by the idea.
The sounds of beating wings reached your ears, and then you saw Aelon flying with Falconer, riding upon the saddle you finished making last year. Falconer landed on the side of the cliff, roaring like a falcon as the metal straps on his chest jiggled. You carefully observed the straps of the saddle. Since Falconer had grown larger than a house over the years, there were some adjustments you needed to finish on the saddle, but so far, everything seemed to be working just fine.
"How is the saddle for you?" you called out to Aelon as he was still on Falconer's back. "It's great! It works pretty well! But some of the straps are making funny noises, and the saddle might be a bit loose," Aelon explained, moving around on his new saddle.
"You get used to it in time. Maybe we only need to tighten up the girth," you said. "Well, whatever it is. I think I'm gonna go on another fly around the mountains if that's okay with you?" Aelon asked.
"Go for it! Just stay out of sight!" you replied.
Aelon grinned. "I will... [Fly Falconer]!" Falconer pushed down his wings, shrieking as he flew into the sky, away from the cave.
You smiled briefly before your attention was drawn by distant thundering. Turning northward, you saw a black storm lingering above the Thangorodrim and the Iron Mountains. It was a concerning sight, accompanied by the distant sound of lightning. The increased wind only added to your unease, leaving you contemplating the implications of the upcoming battle.
A black storm was usually a bad omen. While a thunderstorm might have presented an opportunity for attack under normal circumstances, but there was something ominous about this storm. You do not know why, but it felt like this storm had a will of its own or was following the will of another.
Giggling then reached your ears, and you saw Samuel playing with Smoke. The sight warmed your heart as the two have bonded over the years. You had allowed Samuel to be a caretaker for the hatchlings, and the hatchlings had grown well under his care. They had grown larger than hunting dogs, which made it impossible to keep them in the house anymore, so they now lived in the mountains with Baleria and Falconer.
"Hey, (Name). Could Smoke grow big as Baleria one day?" Samuel asked as the young dragon basked in the attention he was receiving.
“Well, that one is possible,” you then grinned. “Why? Are you hoping you could ride Smoke one day?" you asked.
"Maybe..." Samuel looked away, embarrassed.
"Well, we just have to wait and see once Smoke has grown bigger," you smiled.
"Now, come on. We need to tidy things up. It looks like it might rain soon," you stated. Samuel picked himself up and assisted you in cleaning up the stable. Together, you waited for Aelon to return from his flight, and then all three of you returned to the village.
After returning to the village, you and Aelon decided to have a quick training session with long sticks as you had started teaching him handling spears and long point end weapons. He had long learned how to handle a sword and two blades, the latter having been more challenging for him to learn. However, handling a spear seemed to come naturally to him.
"Alright, let's recall what we learned from our previous session," you said as Aelon was spinning the stick in his hand.
"(Name), you seem a bit restless. Is everything alright?" Aelon questioned.
"Everything is fine. Let's just focus on the session," you replied.
"It just seems like you're forcing yourself to be busy and all," Aelon prepared himself, holding the stick in a defensive position.
"Just some minor things. Now focus, and show me what you have learned," you ordered, and then Aelon attacked, trying to poke you with the top of the stick. You stepped back, blocking his attempts. He then tried to strike you from the side and even went for your face. You quickly moved your head to the side, avoiding the stick and then grabbing it. With a swift motion, you struck your training sword against his stomach, causing him to groan and step back.
"That was good, but you need to be quicker than that," you stated as Aelon charged again.
As you blocked Aelon's attempts to hit you, your mind was troubled by the impending battle and Maedhros's peculiar behavior. He started acting oddly ever since the day when Helena shared the news about the elven princess and the stolen silmaril. And he even acted odd today when you two talked about the incoming battle and the possibilities of pulling it off. It's like he is somewhat involved with it.
Even though he had opened up to you more about himself, being the eldest of his brothers and doing important work for his people, which he did not really clarify, like what kind of work. You still knew very little. You knew he was part of the Noldor, but there were still some things he had not shared. You had tried not to inquire too much about his life out of respect, but now, you wanted answers to your nagging suspicions.
Deep in your thoughts, you failed to block one of Aelon's attacks.
Aelon managed to hit you hard on the rib, making you snap back to reality and strike back in a reflex.
You struck Aelon's weapon away before striking him in the legs, making him yelp and fall on his back with a harsh thud.
Your mind finally realized what you did when you heard Aelon groan and saw him lying on the ground.
"Ah... Aelon! I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?!" you dropped your training sword and crouched down to him in worry.
"Ow! I didn't know you could hit him that hard," Aelon sat up before looking at you. "You drifted off. I actually managed to hit you," he stated with a confused tone.
"Yes... I did. My mind was elsewhere," you looked away in embarrassment.
"Okay, (Name)! Sit down!" Aelon gently pulled you down, making you sit against the ground before looking at you deep in the eye.
"What is going on with you? You should always keep a sharp focus during a fight," he questioned, then waited for your answer.
You exhaled, relaxing your shoulders, deciding to tell what had been weighing on your mind.
"You're right..." You started. "It's about Nelyo. I... think he's not telling us everything," you added.
Aelon stared at you curiously. "What do you mean? He's been our friend for three years now?" he questioned.
"I know, I know, but— like he doesn't know about our dragons. We don't know much about him," you explained. "We know he lives among the Noldor, but we do not know exactly where. We know he has brothers, but we do not know their names or the names of his parents, and we know that he does important work, which makes him quite busy, but he hasn't told us what kind of work it is," you listed while Aelon listened, nodding his head as he began to think about it himself.
"Do you see where I'm going with this?" you asked.
"Yeah. Now that you told me," Aelon nodded with a questioning look, thinking the same as you.
"And upon our second meeting. I noticed how Nelyo seemed hesitant to tell us his name, so there might be a chance Nelyo might not be his real name," you stated. "Or it could be since the elves could have more than one name, but it's a name we wouldn't recognize him as," you quickly explained.
"Okay... but why would he hide things from us?" Aelon asked.
"Perhaps for the same reason as how we keep our dragons a secret," you answered thoughtfully.
"For all we know, he could be an elven lord or even a prince," you said.
"What makes you think he could be a prince?" Aelon asked.
"Quite a lot of things, actually. Usually, those from a noble ground go on hunts in a large hunting party. And the way he talks and holds himself, and let’s not forget that he also gave you a generous gift, which would have been expensive for us, which means he’s quite wealthy," you listened and mentioned Aelon's sword, which he had named Dragon Tooth.
"That makes sense..." Aelon nodded to himself before turning his gaze on you. "We need to ask Nelyo if he is a prince or something!" he stated.
"Well, we just have to wait for his next visit. Now, let's get back to the session. We're losing precious sunlight," you stood up. Aelon whined before standing up to continue the sparring lesson with you.
Smoke surrounded you, blurring your vision, and heavy coughs escaped as you unintentionally inhaled it. Quickly crouching down, you covered your face and mouth with your arm, trying to see through the haze.
Confusion overwhelmed you as you surveyed the smoke-filled house. Why was it smoking all of a sudden? Was there a fire?
Your ears then heard something heavy breaking above you. Looking up, you were startled to see a burning wooden beam falling toward you. Reacting quickly, you dropped back as the beam crashed before you, scattering embers everywhere. Instinctively, you covered yourself to avoid getting hit in the eyes, then realized with horror that it was your house that was burning around you.
"Aelon!" you called out but couldn't hear anything except the burning wood around you.
"Over here!" you heard Aelon call out from the outside.
Dashing quickly toward the doorway, you made it outside just in time before your house collapsed, burning in flames.
You coughed out the smoke from your lungs, then paled when you witnessed the chaos around you.
The whole village was on fire. All the people were screaming as they were getting chased and killed by the orcs.
"Mom! Dad!" you heard Eweniel cry out, and saw her house collapse in flames. The young girl stood outside, sobbing as she watched her home burn. Her parents were nowhere in sight, leading you to fear they were trapped inside the burning house.
You then heard a woman's scream and saw the twins' mother holding Samuel in her arms, crying as there was a black arrow sticking out of his chest. Her husband and Ramuel were tugging her to run away with them.
"(Name)! Don't just stand there! Run!" Helena yelled before she was then attacked and mauled by a warg.
You were horrified by the sight and found yourself unable to move.
A loud, ear-piercing roar ripped through the sky. You winced in pain before seeing the peaks of Thangorodrim and a large shadow standing over them.
It was massive, and when it spread its wings, you beheld an enormous black dragon towering over the mountains. Its eyes gleamed red as blood, and its chest glowed with the intensity that it looked like it was leaking lava.
The dragon laid its red eyes upon you, and before you even knew it, the beast unleashed a torrent of fire upon you and the world around you.
You yelled in fright as you woke up on your bed. You felt your heart pound against your chest, and you subconsciously started checking yourself for burns.
You then heard something running behind your walls before someone opened the door to your room.
"(Name)! I heard you scream. Is everything alright?" Aelon asked worriedly, standing at the door. You breathed in and calmed yourself. "I'm alright," you sighed, then looked at him with a questioning frown. "But why are you up so late?" you asked.
"I had a bad dream. I couldn't sleep after that, so I went to get some water," Aelon explained.
“It was awful. Everything was on fire," Aelon said.
You looked at him as he started describing his dream.
"Our house and the whole village were on fire. Eweniel was standing alone in front of her house as it burned down. Someone had shot Samuel, and then I saw the mountains," he described, making your eyes widen.
"The three big ones, the I saw an enormous.." Aelon continued.
"Dragon," you finished for him. Aelon looked at you as you rubbed your brows. "I saw it too..." you uttered.
"What could it possibly mean?" Aelon asked.
"Hopefully, nothing," you answered.
"But I've seen a prophetic dream before. The one before Amdirvelui kidnapped me, remember?" Aelon sat at the edge of your bed.
"What if this is a prophetic dream too since we both saw it?" he asked, making you think of the possibility.
"If it is, then we might face something terrible in the future," you said. "But let's not think about it. We can never be sure," you added with an apprehensive tone.
"I once saw Falconer appear in my dream, trying to rescue me. And he did come when I was being kidnapped," Aelon said. "This dream felt too real just to be a dream," he stated.
You remained quiet. The dream felt too real for you as well. Your mind was still bothered by the sight of the smoke, fire, and death. They reminded you too much of your time as a commander and the things you did.
You released a deep sigh.
"Try to go back to sleep. Let's think about it tomorrow," you laid back on your bed.
"Okay..." Aelon uttered, stepping away from your bed. "Goodnight," he said as he walked out of your room. "Goodnight," you mumbled as he closed the door, and you heard him return to his room.
Your mind returned to the dream, replaying the horrid scenario again and again.
You didn't want to think about it, but you had an awful feeling that the dream might be linked to the upcoming battle against Morgoth, especially if it was the aftermath and Morgoth freed his terror all over the world. The scenario would fit all too well.
Then, The woman's prediction came to mind—the one where all the birds flee forever south, and the blue banner of the king is set ablaze.
Shaking your head, you closed your eyes, pushing the troubling thoughts away and attempting to find sleep before sunrise.
Taglist: @natchayaphorn @kimnamnu@thatrandomidiot182 @springfountain
#silmarillion x reader#silmarillion#tolkien#silm fic#middle earth x reader#when the dragons fly#hotd x reader#hotd#middle earth#silmarillion imagines#various x reader#targaryen reader#silmarillion x targaryen reader#maedhros x reader
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every time someone bitches about how drizzt is Inexplicably Good For No Reason and that makes him a too-good mary sue my literary pretention meter goes up another pip
Like huh! I wonder why Drizzt would kick back against the constant indoctrination of the academy and the implied social skills that are required to be a proper adult in Menzo society
“I will remember everything you taught me,” Drizzt promised,
dodging a cut and launching a fierce counter of his own. “I will carve my name in the halls of Melee-Magthere and make you proud.”
The scowl on Zak’s face surprised Drizzt, and the young drow grew
even more confused when the weapons master’s next attack sent a sword knifing straight at his heart. Drizzt leaped aside, slapping at the blade in sheer desperation, and narrowly avoided impalement.
“Are you so very sure of yourself?” Zak growled, stubbornly
pursuing Drizzt.
Drizzt set himself as their blades met in ringing fury. “I am a
fighter,” he declared. “A drow warrior!”
“You are a dancer!” Zak shot back in a derisive tone. He slammed
his sword onto Drizzt’s blocking scimitar so savagely that the young drow’s arm tingled.
“An imposter!” Zak cried. “A pretender to a title you cannot begin to understand!”
It's not like he had a sudden fight with his beloved mentor right before they left
But Zak was relentless. He fended the attacks and continued his
lesson. “Do you know the emotions of murder?” he spat. “Have you reconciled yourself to the act you committed?”
Drizzt’s only answers were a frustrated growl and a renewed attack.
“Ah, the pleasure of plunging your sword into the bosom of a high
priestess,” Zak taunted. “To see the light of warmth leave her body
while her lips utter silent curses in your face! Or have you ever heard the screams of dying children?”
[...]
“How loud, those screams,” Zak continued. “They echo over the
centuries in your mind; they chase you down the paths of your entire life.”
Zak halted the action so that Drizzt might weigh his every word.
“You have never heard them, have you, dancer?” The weapons
master stretched his arms out wide, an invitation. “Come, then, and claim your second kill,” he said, tapping his stomach. “In the belly, where the pain is greatest, so that my screams may echo in your mind.
Prove to me that you are the drow warrior you claim to be.”
The tips of Drizzt’s scimitars slowly made their way to the stone
floor. He wore no smile now.
“You hesitate,” Zak laughed at him. “This is your chance to make
your name. A single thrust, and you will send a reputation into the
Academy before you. Other students, even masters, will whisper your name as you pass. ‘Drizzt Do’Urden,’ they will say. ‘The boy who slew the most honored weapons master in all of Menzoberranzan!’ Is this not what you desire?”
“Damn you,” Drizzt spat back, but still he made no move to attack.
“Drow warrior?” Zak chided him. “Do not be so quick to claim a title you cannot begin to understand!”
Drizzt came on then, in a fury he had never before known. His
purpose was not to kill, but to defeat his teacher, to steal the taunts from Zak’s mouth with a fighting display too impressive to be derided.
where Drizzt desperately wanted validation that he Did Good and learned everything Zak wanted him to learn and got nothing but Zak suddenly turning on him and telling him he was a stupid child who didn't understand anything about what being a drow warrior really means. it went from a clean fair fight to suddenly being tricked
“Treachery,” Drizzt spat a third time.
“It is our way,” Zak replied. “You will learn.”
“It is your way,” snarled Drizzt. “You grin when you speak of
murdering clerics of the Spider Queen. Do you so enjoy killing?
Killing drow?”
Zak could not find an answer to the accusing question. Drizzt’s
words hurt him profoundly because they rang of truth, and because
Zak had come to view his penchant for killing clerics of Lolth as a
cowardly response to his own unanswerable frustrations.
“You would have killed me,” Drizzt said bluntly.
“But I did not,” Zak retorted. “And now you live to go to the
Academy—to take a dagger in the back because you are blind to the realities of our world, because you refuse to acknowledge what your people are.
“Or you will become one of them,” Zak growled. “Either way, the Drizzt Do’Urden I have known will surely die.”
Drizzt’s face twisted, and he couldn’t even find the words to dispute
the possibilities Zak was spitting at him. He felt the blood drain from his face, though his heart raged. He walked away, letting his glare linger on Zak for many steps.
“Go, then, Drizzt Do’Urden!” Zak cried after him. “Go to the
Academy and bask in the glory of your prowess. Remember, though, the consequences of such skills. Always there are consequences!”
Zak retreated to the security of his private chamber. The door to the room closed behind the weapons master with such a sound of finality that it spun Zak back to face its empty stone.
“Go, then, Drizzt Do’Urden,” he whispered in quiet lament. “Go to the Academy and learn who you really are.”
[...]
Drizzt looked out into the myriad colors and shapes that composed
Menzoberranzan. “What is this place?” he whispered, realizing how
little he knew of his homeland beyond the walls of his own house.
Zak’s words—Zak���s rage—pressed in on Drizzt as he stood there,
reminding him of his ignorance and hinting at a dark path ahead.
“This is the world,” Dinin replied, though Drizzt’s question had
been rhetorical. “Do not worry, Secondboy,” he laughed, moving up onto the railing. “You will learn of Menzoberranzan in the Academy.
You will learn who you are and who your people are.”
The declaration unsettled Drizzt. Perhaps—remembering his last
bitter encounter with the drow he had most trusted—that knowledge was exactly what he was afraid of.
And its like GEE. I WONDER WHY DRIZZT HAS SUCH AN AVERSION TO BETRAYAL AND THE LESSONS THEY TEACH IN THE ACADEMY. IT'S NOT LIKE "WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BE A DROW WARRIOR" IS THE LAST THING HIS DAD LEFT HIM WITH BEFORE HE WENT OFF TO THE ACADEMY FOR TEN YEARS. ITS NOT LIKE HIS FIRST EXPERIENCE OF "BEING A PROPER DROW" WAS A REJECTION THAT HURT HIM DEEPLY OR ANYTHING.
Naw naw he's just a perfect little guy. Just the perfect mary sue. Obviously it just comes from nowhere because he is just so good. It's not foreshadowed at all.
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Shop talk!! Where did the inspiration for Abby as a character come from? Are there any characters or people who have inspired what makes her ✨her✨? And how do she and Aegon compliment each other?
(apologies, this came in after I went to bed and then I spent the last five hours driving across three states)
Oooh! I haven't gotten an ask like this in so long and I forget there are new people who might be interested!!!
(@selfproclaimedunicorn did the first Abby fanart! and @murmel-malt did this one for xmas!)
So in Fire & Blood, it's stated that Lyonel Strong became Master of Laws when Viserys took the throne, brought his sons Harwin and Larys and two maiden daughters to serve as Rhaenyra's ladies. So Abby was originally a friend of Rhaenyra and Alicent, and stayed by Alicent's side when she became queen because show-wise, Alicent is so fucking isolated. Like it HURTS to see how isolated she is, and I wanted her to have a friend, and someone who would try to be peacemaker between the two.
Right from the start, Abby was always meant to be kind. She's what I call proto-Sansa Stark: just embodying a lot of the traditional ladylike qualities I would always see Sansa getting lambasted for. I really wanted to create a character who could be kind and strong and that be just as valid as someone scheming or good with a sword. I wanted to write a girly-girl to embrace that femininity that I rejected as a teenager cause yay internalized misogyny!
But man, lemme tell you, I was struggling with her. I had this framework, but I didn't have a story for her. Frankly, for awhile, I thought that Alicent might encourage her to marry Otto for protection or something. I just didn't know what was going to happen to her.
So I decided to try roleplay her in some roleplay groups and toss her against other characters and see what I could come up with. It's something I've always done with original characters and I wasn't committed to writing a fic yet. and then my friend Ramses goes 'what if we did an AU and you throw her at Aegon?' (so age down Abby so her and Aegon are the same age vs her being his mother's age) because the type of character she was, she might be good with Aegon.
And then... the rest is history. Putting Abby against Aegon basically unlocked that third eye and suddenly Abby's story and her place in the world of Westeros clicked: She's someone the Team Green kids needed.
With Abby, Helaena could have a friend her age who accepted her for who she was, Aemond had a nerdy friend who enjoyed books, and Aegon? Aegon had a friend who always supported him, who he got to play conquering hero to her damsel in the games they'd play as children. a young!Abby took one look at the wet eyed cat boy and immediately went I'll love you and I'll show you how wonderful I think you are.
Aegon and Abby are definitely foils for each other. Abby thinks of others first, Aegon doesn't. He goes in on himself in his melancholy, she goes outside of herself. They are both desperate to please in their own ways, they are incredibly hungry for love. They are both outsiders in their worlds, and alone except for each other. Abby has the patience that Aegon needs, and Aegon has the ego to push Abby to be more 'selfish' and look out for herself more. In Abby, Aegon can take care of someone, he can look outside of himself and be there for someone. In Aegon, Abby can let herself be cared for. There's patience and there's drive, there's possessiveness and feralness from both of them. Both of these kids are unwell, Abby just... masks it better? It's not as obvious? (she's named for an Asshai blood priestess and is heiress to the haunted castle of your nightmares my happy sunshine baby is not well)
As for characters that inspired her and make her HER, the number one is very much Tohru Honda from Fruits Basket. Fruba is one of my favorite stories of all time, and it's a story about the cycle of abuse and generational trauma, and Tohru is the sunshine bubbly light girl... who is hiding her own grief and guilt at the loss of her mother. The fear that finding happiness again meaning she'd forgotten/lost her mother. And she takes on everyone's pain but does not share her own. And that always really resonated with me. It's very real. And it's a story that resonated to me along with Sansa's that I could appreciate as I was older.
I'm so sorry there's SO MUCH RAMBLING and I have no idea if this makes any sense. I don't know if I talk about Abby enough - I'm not used to getting questions about her LOL so thank you for this!
#oc: abrogail strong#aegon x abby#my babiest girl#there's so much work into this character and years of unpacking my own internalized traumas and misogyny#Abby is NOT ME#but she does help me process and work out some things I struggle with myself#gee tag
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Fic: 悬不合时宜里 | hanging out of time
Fandom: Mysterious Lotus Casebook （莲花楼）
Relationship: Li Lianhua | Li Xiangyi/Zhan Yunfei, Li Lianhua | Li Xiangyi & Zhan Yunfei, (implied) Li Lianhua | Li Xiangyi/Fang Duobing
(read it on ao3)
Summary:
The man before him was no longer the Li Xiangyi that Zhan Yunfei once knew, but Li Lianhua who had been born through grief, disillusioned and moulded by the jianghu that he had roamed for a decade.
Zhan Yunfei feels himself fall again all the same.
Zhan Yunfei hears people approaching, recognises the cadence of Sect leader He’s quick and confident footsteps, closely followed by Young Master Fang’s heavier ones keeping stride beside her. There is a third person with them, light and surefooted, which puts him on his guard. He does not recognize this person.
“Guardian Zhan! Come down! My mother needs your help.” Young Master Fang calls, cutting through the symphony of cicada cries that accompanied him on his watch.
He pauses, reluctant to meet another stranger, having to feign pleasantries. But duty eventually wins out, and he leaps off the roof to greet the masters of Tianji Manor, only to freeze when he sees the third person trailing languidly after Young Master Fang.
Li Lianhua, the man introduces himself as.
The man before him no longer holds himself as proudly, nor as confidently, as he had ten years ago. Gone was the hungry, ambitious glint in eyes that had drawn everyone to him, now replaced by a world-weariness that clung to him like a shadow.
He was no longer the Li Xiangyi that Zhan Yunfei once knew, but Li Lianhua who had been born through grief, disillusioned and moulded by the jianghu that he had roamed for a decade.
Zhan Yunfei feels himself fall again all the same.
— ° —
Zhan Yunfei’s life could clearly be defined into two parts.
Before he met Li Xiangyi, the renowned prodigy, rising star of the jianghu, he had been a prideful, overconfident kid who trusted only in himself and his blade. A kid who cared only about making a name for himself in his own right.
He had then caught wind of Li Xiangyi, a rising star, a shining beacon of justice alongside his shaoshi jian, and Zhan Yunfei had wanted nothing more than to challenge this so-called genius.
Meeting Li Xiangyi had changed him– not just appearance wise– but because the boy had properly humbled him, taught him that behind every mountain there would always be a higher peak to conquer.
His younger, starry-eyed self had then pestered Li Xiangyi into agreeing to spar with him every other month, something he threw himself into refining his sword form for.
Then one day Li Xiangyi shows up with his wenjing jian, made of Cloud iron that only the He family possessed.
The same family that had met a tragic end a month ago. (He would know, he had passed by the family estate and had seen the aftermath of the bloodbath. He had been too late to help, and it had been haunting his dreams ever since).
Zhan Yunfei, being barely nineteen, had not known better than to storm off, letting his mind jump to conclusions instead of staying to ask Li Xiangyi where he had gotten the blade from.
— ° —
The person in front of him is not Li Xiangyi.
Certainly, most of his habits and gestures were Li Xiangyi, right down to his painfully obvious lies, but he is not Li Xiangyi.
Li Lianhua drinks like a sailor, lies as easily as breathing, and holds himself entirely differently from the righteous young hero he once was. The person he is now carries his ghosts with him, cares less about proprietary and has little to no regard for his pride anymore.
He watches as Li Lianhua immediately latches onto the suspicious details surrounding Wei Qingchou’s death, watches the way Li Lianhua worked alongside Young Master Fang, the way the two of them moved around each other with practiced ease.
(He ignores the way his heart aches, turns away from the jealousy threatening to eat him up, locks those ugly emotions away in a box and refuses to look at them).
Zhan Yunfei is simply happy that his friend is able to live unrestrained as he had longed to all those years ago, unburdened by the expectations of the jianghu, free to wander as he once had.
Nothing more, nothing less.
— ° —
But because he was a fool, still too easily driven by his emotions and entirely unable to stay away from the light that is Li Xiangyi, he continues meeting the other for their monthly spars.
Li Xiangyi has the courtesy to use shaoshi against him, instead of wenjing, a gesture that does not go unnoticed, and only serves to makes his heart beat faster around the other.
They do not talk about what happened the previous time they met.
He hears of things stirring in the jianghu, mutterings of an impending clash between the leaders of the Sigu Sect and the Jingyuan Alliance. It is something that reflects on Li Xiangyi, who looks increasingly ragged and unfocused the next time they meet. But Li Xiangyi does not bring it up, so he asks no questions, content to simply play his role as Li Xiangyi’s sparring partner.
Zhan Yunfei meets Li Xiangyi for the last time a few nights before the destined Battle of the East Sea. He had managed to find out more about the rumours, knows it will be useless to try and dissuade Li Xiangyi from going– the other boy was too consumed by his need for vengeance, too full of anger to listen to logic– even if the situation surrounding Shan Gudao’s death seemed all too strange, and had the Jingyuan Alliance’s fingerprints all over it.
(He hears things, travelling the jianghu as he does. People talked, and they did not care who heard about the stories that they spread).
But who was he, to comment on the inner workings of the jianghu that he had consistently kept himself on the periphery of all these years? He was simply a wandering swordsman, someone who admired the Xiangyi Swordplay, an outsider who did not know Shan Gudao personally.
So he simply throws his all into this spar– it may be the very last one he has with Li Xiangyi, no matter how much he wishes to deny it– though the other seems distracted, unfocused from the rage coursing through him, and Zhan Yunfei eventually gets his first win against Li Xiangyi.
— ° —
Zhan Yunfei waits in the clearing just outside the west gate of Tianji Manor, anticipation bubbling just beneath his skin. This was a chance he never thought he'd get again– and Li Lianhua does not let him down.
He lunges towards Li Lianhua the moment he hears him step into the clearing, sword drawn with no holds barred, demanding a duel from the other.
It is more of a greeting rather than a spar, a reunion– a wordless exchange between two old friends– feeling out the other and where they now stood.
Li Lianhua would not be able to defeat Zhan Yunfei with his martial skills as weakened as it was now, anyway, and they both knew it. Even so, they continue their deadly dance, weaving their moves together the same way they did ten years ago.
“It would be better if you tied your hair up,” Li Lianhua casually remarks, something akin to regret shining in his eyes, “what if you had someone you loved, and they saw you like this?”
Zhan Yunfei smiles bitterly. He is a stubborn person– once he has set his heart on someone, his feelings would remain unwavering– as with his promise, he would remain the same, unchanging throughout the passing of time around him.
“It's a promise I made to an old friend, and I'll keep my word.”
— ° —
He hears of a Young Master who claims to be Li Xiangyi’s disciple, and resolves to hunt him down–Li Xiangyi had never taken a disciple, and if this upstart was planning to desecrate Li Xiangyi’s name for his own fame, Zhan Yunfei would be the one to take his life.
(It would not be the first time he has done so, throughout the years following Li Xiangyi’s death).
He eventually makes his way to Tianji Manor, narrowly surviving an ambush from mountain bandits who had assumed he was affiliated with the He family.
He Xiaofeng had found him clinging onto his last thread of consciousness, and swiftly escorted him to their family's physician to fix him up.
He had not planned to stay.
(But He Xiaofeng was a force of nature, equally as stubborn as he was, and it was not long before he caved to her requests.
It would not be too bad to rest his wings for a year or two, he supposed. To have a constant shelter over his head that he could go back to).
He had not planned to stay, but he managed to meet the Young Master he had come looking for. Young master Fang was a sickly child, obviously in no shape or form to have been Li Xiangyi’s disciple, and yet he insists so. He claims that his shifu is still alive, declares it with such conviction that Zhan Yunfei finds himself momentarily convinced.
(He wishes that he could have the same unshakable belief as Young Master Fang).
The kid has asked him about his hair on multiple occasions, obviously determined to weasel an answer out of him, but Zhan Yunfei is just as committed to keeping the answer to himself.
It was a promise only Li Xiangyi and himself knew about, the only reminder he had of the bright star that flew too close to the sun.
So what if people thought he was crazy? It was something he learnt to live with, something he did not care about, if it meant keeping the memory of Li Xiangyi alive.
— ° —
Li Lianhua eventually deduces that Wei Qingchou is really the Liangyi Fairy who had been entrusted with a piece of the Rama Heavenly Ice, but he is a step too late. Shan Gudao attacks, exposing Li Lianhua's identity, demands for the other Ice shards, and leaves a trail of destruction in his wake.
Through it all, Li Lianhua remains himself. Upright. Kind. Self-sacrificing.
He sees Li Lianhua to the gate.
“Zhan-xiong,” Li Lianhua turns to him, expression sombre and all too knowing– it's a look that he recognises– he has seen its mirror ten years ago, and his throat tightens.
“I'm sorry,” Li Lianhua says, clearing his throat in discomfort, faltering for half a second before his eyes fill with determination, “I know how you feel towards me, but–”
Zhang Yunfei knows. He knows. He had seen the way Li Lianhua lit up around Young Master Fang, the way he relaxed his guard when the other was near, no matter how imperceptibly, knows that it is something he would not be able to draw out of Li Lianhua.
It is a happiness that Li Lianhua deserves, after everything.
(At least it was Young Master Fang, who he could trust to treat Li Lianhua well, who wears his heart on his sleeve, who had similarly remained unflinchingly loyal for ten years).
“You don't have to apologise, as long as Young Master Fang makes you happy.”
“He does,” Li Lianhua flushes at the mention of their young Master, and Zhan Yunfei’s heart clenches.
They have both changed with the passing of time– neither of them still hunger to be the best– Li Lianhua just wants a peaceful life, and Zhan Yunfei has found something to protect.
(Even so, Zhan Yunfei’s heart still remains the same, still longing for the same person.
He would get over it eventually, he tells himself).
— ° —
Extra:
“Why didn't you confess?” He Xiaofeng elbows him, as they watch the Lotus Tower gradually disappear further into the distance.
“He is happy with Young Master Fang.” Zhan Yunfei states, turning a bemused eye onto He Xiaofeng, “besides, did you want me to snatch your nephew’s lover?”
The ensuing reaction causes the nearby pigeons to take flight in shock, “He- he and our Xiaobao?”
#it's finally out of the basement!! after 4(?) months!#we as a fandom do not talk about Zhan Yunfei enough#!!!#also uh#this was supposed to be Zhanhua endgame but#it got away from me my bad#mysterious lotus casebook#zhan yunfei#rose writes
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