Tumgik
#WELL. LESSON LEARNED. NOTHING IS SAFE. EVERYTHING IS POISON.
lunarneo · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
Poor Neo- “IBS Distress”
read more comics of my comics here!
214 notes · View notes
edenmemes · 1 year
Text
game of thrones (book) starters
❝ a mind needs books like it needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge. ❞ ❝ a lion doesn’t concern itself with the opinion of sheep. ❞ ❝ nothing burns like the cold. ❞ ❝ i've angered you. that was never my intent. ❞ ❝ do the dead frighten you? ❞ ❝ the day will come when you need them to respect you, even fear you a little. ❞ ❝ did i offend you? my pardons...but you are scum. ❞ ❝ folly and desperation are offtimes hard to tell apart. ❞ ❝ you must put your dreams aside. they will only break your heart. ❞ ❝ a man in your place should count himself fortunate that his head is still on his shoulders. ❞ ❝ every hurt is a lesson, and every lesson makes you better. ❞ ❝ life is not a song. someday you will learn that, to your sorrow. ❞ ❝ once you’ve accepted your flaws, no one can use that against you. ❞ ❝ the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. ❞ ❝ make no mistake. i fought for you, but i do not love you. ❞ ❝ some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word. ❞ ❝ fear cuts deeper than swords. ❞ ❝ if i look back i am lost. ❞ ❝ your mind is as deft as your blade, it would seem. ❞ ❝ i cannot think of anyone whose company i desire less than yours. ❞ ❝ sleep is the great healer. ❞ ❝ when you play a game of thrones, you win or you die. ❞ ❝ most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it. ❞ ❝ the things we love destroy us every time. remember that. ❞ ❝ death is so terribly final, while life is full of possibilities. ❞ ❝ what, lost your taste of adventure? ❞ ❝ i have seen dead men with more humor than you. ❞ ❝ there are times when you give me cause to wonder whose side you are on. ❞ ❝ what good is it to wear a crown? the gods mock the prayers of kings and cowherds alike. ❞ ❝ the gods have fashioned us for love. that is our great glory, and our great tragedy. ❞ ❝ i have a tender spot in my heart for broken things. ❞ ❝ laughter is poison to fear. ❞ ❝ love is the bane of honor, the death of duty. ❞ ❝ we need men of your courage. ❞ ❝ my crimes and sins are beyond counting. ❞ ❝ perhaps i was wrong to distrust you. ❞ ❝ do you always find murder so amusing? ❞ ❝ i will not soften the truth for you. if you lose, there is no hope for any of us. ❞ ❝ every flight begins with a fall. ❞ ❝ oh, my sweet summer child, what do you know of fear? ❞ ❝ the man who fears losing has already lost. ❞ ❝ the things i do for love. ❞ ❝ all the grief has been burned out of me. ❞ ❝ i make no threats. that was a promise. ❞ ❝ spare me your empty little compliments. ❞ ❝ i will not forget the help you gave me. ❞ ❝ let them see that their words can cut you and you’ll never be free of the mockery. ❞ ❝ a lord must learn that sometimes words can accomplish what swords cannot. ❞ ❝ you wear your honor like a suit of armor...you think it keeps you safe, but all it does is weigh you down. ❞ ❝ a dead enemy is a thing of beauty. ❞ ❝ you look well, but...tired. ❞ ❝ love is sweet, but it cannot change a man’s nature. ❞ ❝ if you tell anyone, i’ll kill you. ❞ ❝ minds are like swords. the old ones go to rust. ❞ ❝ there’s something wrong here. can’t you feel it? listen to the darkness. ❞ ❝ everything’s better with some wine in the belly. ❞ ❝ grief can derange even the most strongest and most disciplined of minds. ❞ ❝ in life, the monsters win. ❞ ❝ damn it. you might at least humor me with a smile. ❞ ❝ why is it when one man builds a wall, the next man immediately needs to know what’s on the other side? ❞ ❝ if you must hate, hate those who truly do us harm. ❞ ❝ tell me again what you saw. all the details. leave nothing out. ❞ ❝ what do you think might’ve killed these men? ❞ ❝ you are too hard on yourself. you always were. ❞ ❝ such eloquence. i never suspected you had it in you. ❞ ❝ if i need instruction, i will ask for it. ❞ ❝ if there are enemies in this wood, a fire is the last thing we want. ❞ ❝ what is it? you’re shaking. ❞ ❝ i am out of wine and out of patience. ❞ ❝ i am pleased to see there are still men of sense in this city. ❞ ❝ i do not mean to frighten you, but neither will i lie to you. ❞ ❝ we have come to a dangerous place. we have enemies who mean us ill will. ❞ ❝ you have the wildness in you. ❞ ❝ i can only stomach so much ineptitude in any one day. ❞ ❝ what you are is weak. ❞ ❝ why, that almost sounds like praise. ❞ ❝ none of us wants trouble, but i fear these are troubed times. ❞ ❝ keep out of matters that don’t concern you. ❞ ❝ i trust you as i would my own blood. ❞ ❝ just where do you think you are going? ❞ ❝ give me honorable enemies rather than ambitious ones, and i’ll sleep more soundly at night. ❞ ❝ i am in no mood for your insolence today. ❞ ❝ you weren’t supposed to be here. no one was supposed to be here. ❞ ❝ you are shaking. do i frighten you so much? ❞ ❝ there is small honor in tricks. ❞ ❝ we who presume to rule must do vile things for the good of the realm. ❞ ❝ should war come again, how many soldiers will die? how many towns will burn? ❞ ❝ it is one thing to be clever and another to be wise. ❞ ❝ even in a place like this, one never knows who may be watching. ❞ ❝ forgive me. i am tired. ❞ ❝ if friends can turn to enemies, enemies can become friends. ❞ ❝ all alone, are you? ❞ ❝ we are about justice here, and what you seek is vengeance. ❞ ❝ i promise you, no harm will come to you. ❞ ❝ you will dishonor yourself forever if you do this. ❞ ❝ we all need to be mocked from time from time, lest we start to take ourselves too seriously. ❞ ❝ open the door. we need to talk. ❞ ❝ come share my fire, the night is cold. ❞ ❝ make certain i never look on your face again, or i swear, i’ll have your head on a spike. ❞ ❝ you dare give commands to me? to me? ❞ ❝ we all need to be mocked from time from time, lest we start to take ourselves too seriously. ❞ ❝ you do not love me and you do not want me here. ❞ ❝ nothing was harmed save my dignity. ❞ ❝ be strong. the gods are cruel. ❞ ❝ have you no shred of honor? ❞ ❝ something’s wrong. something’s very wrong. ❞ ❝ i want to be by myself for a while. ❞ ❝ do you take me for a servant? ❞ ❝ i never asked for this. ❞ ❝ i did warn you not to trust me. ❞ ❝ duty, honor, friendship, what’s that to you? ❞ ❝ i hope you are not thinking of doing anything stupid. ❞ ❝ save your pity for yourself. i want none of it. ❞ ❝ i think i will try to sleep. wake me if we’re about to die. ❞ ❝ never show them you’re afraid. ❞ ❝ i am doing the right thing, so why do i feel so bad? ❞ ❝ you must not do this. don’t die on me. ❞ ❝ it is not for you to tell me what i cannot do. ❞ ❝ it stinks. the stick of death. ❞ ❝ you are as fair as ever, a welcome sight in troubled times. ❞ ❝ there’s someone out there, isn’t there? ❞ ❝ can’t say i’ll be sad to see the back of this place. ❞ ❝ travel by night and hole up by day, avoid the road while we can, make no noise and light no fires. ❞ ❝ mercy is never a mistake. ❞ ❝ i don’t wish to hurt you, but i will if i have to. ❞ ❝ i swear it, you will have your vengeance. ❞ ❝ i bow to serve you, to obey you, to die for you if need be. ❞ ❝ a man who fights for coin is loyal only to his purse. ❞ ❝ we have won a battle, not a war. ❞ ❝ do i look like a liar too? ❞ ❝ more than once, i have dreamed of giving up the crown. ❞ ❝ distrusting me was the wisest thing you’ve done. ❞ ❝ poison is a coward’s weapon. ❞ ❝ how many times must i tell you to hold your tongue? ❞ ❝ you have done all i could have asked of you, and a hundred times more. ❞ ❝ i have made more mistakes than you can possibly imagine, but that was not one of them. ❞ ❝ sometimes the gods are merciful. ❞ ❝ go ahead, call me all the names you want. ❞ ❝ not now. you have no time for grief. ❞
501 notes · View notes
hurtmyfavsthanks · 1 year
Text
Febuwhump day 13: Forced to Hurt a Loved One
Whumpee didn’t dare resist as they and Caretaker were led blindly down the hall. They wanted to, everything in them screamed for them to tear free from the guards holding them, but the feeling of cold metal pressed against the small of their back stopped them. They couldn’t risk it, not with Caretaker next to them. 
They could hear Caretaker beside them, forced forward by the guard at their heels. They didn’t say a word, but Whumpee could hear their sniffling, their gasps of pain whenever one of the guards pushed them forward.
Caretaker had been injured in their capture. Whumpee would make sure Whumper paid for that. 
Whumpee was pulled to a stop mid-step by a guard, before being unceremoniously pushed forward. They stumbled, just barely bringing their arms forward in time to stop themselves from slamming face-first into the ground. They heard Caretaker fall behind them.
Whumpee had torn the bag from their head and rushed at the door, gripping the cell bars a second after the door was locked shut.
Standing just outside of reach was Whumper, because of course the controlling, smug bastard would come to see their prisoners locked away. Whumpee wanted to strangle them, but they had to settle for ratting the bars.
“Let us out.” they hissed. 
“Not until you’ve learned your lesson.” Whumper stared at them unflinchingly, face grim and angry. As if they had any right to anger after all they’d done, after what they were doing now. Whumper turned away from the cell, gesturing for their guards to follow. 
Whumpee was going to kill them when they got out. 
"Fuck,"Whumpee could hear the tremor in Caretaker's voice, the way their words were twinged with the beginnings of hysteria. “What the hell does that even mean? What lesson?”
Whumpee watched Whumper and their guards as they left down the hall. “I have no idea,” they lied.
—-
They spent the first two days doing little but searching for a way out. They took turns, one searching for anything to loosen the door’s hinges, the other keeping watch for guards. They'd sleep that way as well. Tucked away in a corner, one resting while the other watched.
Whumper came to visit them once a day, the only means of measuring time the pair had. They remained silent throughout each visit, personally delivering a platter of food before leaving. Whumpee watched them leave every time, looking for any opening to attack. But even if Whumper left themselves vulnerable, their guards were constantly at attention, guns drawn and ready to fire at any sign of aggression. 
The food was always simple. A thin broth, a few slices of bread, and two cups of water. Barely enough to keep two alive.
“We shouldn’t eat it,” Caretaker had said the first day, staring at the platter with distrust. “Who knows what they did to it?”
And so they kept searching for any means of escape. Whumpee knew it was hopeless, but there was nothing else to be done. From the pinched, frustrated look on Caretaker’s face, Whumpee could guess they were thinking the same. 
It took three days without food or water for Caretaker’s resolve to crack. 
"I'll just take a sip of the water. If it's poisoned, it shouldn't be enough to kill me," Caretaker had said, voice hoarse. "If I'm fine, then we split it." 
Whumpee couldn't help but admire Caretaker. They had no idea what was happening, and yet they jumped to take risks so Whumpee wouldn’t have to. Whumpee felt guilt like a stake to the heart, sharp and fatal. They didn’t deserve protection.
The water wasn't poisoned, nor was the food. Of course they weren't, because that wasn't the point, but Caretaker had no way of knowing that. Whumpee felt like a coward for letting them starve themselves so long despite knowing it was safe, but how could they have explained themselves? 
Caretaker took small bites of their portion whenever they thought Caretaker was looking. It tasted like ash on their tongue.
___
A week into their captivity, Whumpee couldn’t hide their growing fatigue. 
They’d both given up searching their cell. There were now flaws in the room, not that they’d had any means of digging through a crack even if they had found one. 
They'd both given up their search by then, realizing their cell would only open when Whumper commanded. Caretaker had taken to pacing the perimeter of their cell. Whumpee simply sat, staring at the bars. 
 They both looked horrible. Whumpee’s hair had become tangled and matted, their clothing growing dusty from sleeping on the floor. Caretaker had long forgone their jacket, using it as bedding for the two of them. Their now bare arms were littered with aging bruises from their capture. Though they tried to hide it, Whumpee saw the blood around their fingernails from where they’d tried to pull the screws out of the hinges. They look exhausted. 
Whumpee’s stomach growled.
Whumper continued to personally deliver their food, and Whumpee continued to look for an opptuntunity to steal a guard’s weapon and end this. They didn’t find one.
Whumper never said a word to them, rarely even looked their way or acknowledged their existence. Still, something in their movement felt like mockery.
Caretaker pushed the plate towards them as soon as Whumper left. “I’m not hungry, you take it,” they said, the lie indiscreet and boldfaced. Whumpee didn’t call them out on it, because they knew the lie was easier to say than the truth that Whumpee was growing weaker.
The food went untouched. Whumpee drank their portion of the water, but it didn’t help.
Caretaker had started trying to reason with Whumper after that.
“You can’t keep us here forever. What do you even want?” They’d asked as soon as Whumper came into view. “Is it money? We’re not rich, but we can get you money. Whatever you want, it’s yours, okay?”
Whumper acted like they didn’t hear them. They simply performed the same action they always did. A platter of food left on the ground, a group of guards at their side. 
They tried again the next day.
“This is insane! You can’t– you can’t just leave us here all day! The hell do you even want? You’ve barely said a damn thing this entire time! Are you listening to me?!”
And the next day.
“People are going to come for us. We have friends, family that’s gonna notice we’re gone. You can’t keep us forever.”
And the next day. 
“Please,” Caretaker begged after almost a week without a response. “Please. Whumpee can’t take this anymore. Just let them go, okay? Or–or give us better food? I don’t know, I don’t know what’s wrong, but you gotta help them. They’re sick. You don’t want us dead, right? They’re going to die if you don’t help them!”
 Whumper didn’t say a word, but Whumpee swore they saw them smirk as they left.
Whumpee lost track of the days after that.
There was nothing to do. There was no escape, there were no distractions. There were just walls and the food and eachother, day in and day out. There was nothing to tell apart one moment from the next besides their growing weakness.
They were starving. They couldn’t forget it, they couldn’t escape the pain. They were exhausted, but they couldn’t sleep. They were too tired to even bother sitting up, simply spending their day curled in the corner, listless. They long ago stopped bothering to look up when Whumper came in, long ago stopped pretending to eat the food given to them. 
Sometimes, when Caretaker begged enough, they’d take a sip of water and wish it were something else.
Caretaker only became more doting, more annoying with each passing day. They were constantly hovering around them, constantly offering them bites of food or asking if they could help Whumpee somehow. 
Whumpee knew they were trying to help. It wasn’t fair to be annoyed by them, but every word Caretaker spoke felt like a mockery, and every response Whumpee forced out felt like labor. They just wanted to be left alone, then maybe they could think of a way out. Just being around Caretaker was driving them insane.
“You can help by leaving me alone!” They hadn’t meant to say it out loud, they hadn’t meant to shout at Caretaker. But they were tired, they were sick and Caretaker couldn’t help.
Caretaker had flinched at their shout. Whumpee could see the hurt in their eyes, the way they curled inward like they’d been kicked. And then they saw that vulnerability tucked away, covered with defensive anger. “Fine.” They snapped, pulling away and tucking themselves in the opposite corner of their cell. 
Caretaker didn’t try to speak to them again for the rest of the day, or the day after. Whumpee didn’t say anything either, even when they saw Caretaker’s shoulder’s shake and heard their breath hitch. 
They didn’t have the energy to feel remorse.
Whumpee was starving. It was all they could think about. Every breath they took, every moment they spent aware, they were reminded of that. 
There was food nearby. They could smell it, they could taste it in the air. It was so close, so close so close they could taste it. But they swore they wouldn’t. They promised. They didn’t want to hurt anyone. They didn’t want to hurt Caretaker.
They just wanted to leave, but they knew there was no exit. No cracks to dig their way through, no moment to steal a key from a guard, no chance to overpower Whumper without getting shot.
There was one way out and Whumpee was starving.
Caretaker had taken to picking at the door’s bolts again. They hadn’t spoken since their fight, but Caretaker still stubbornly left half the food untouched. Whumpee did the same. 
Whumpee heard Caretaker’s hiss of pain as they reopened the wounds on their fingers. 
“Leave the door alone.” They grumbled from their corner of the cell.
“And what else am I supposed to do?!” Like a spring, Caretaker leapt to their feet, scowling. “We’ve been here for weeks. There’s no way out, there’s nothing to do, so why the hell shouldn't I mess with the door?!”
Now that they’d broken their silence, it seemed like Caretaker couldn’t stop the words from flowing out. “There’s no way out. There’s no fucking way out and you won’t even look at me anymore— you won’t even talk to me unless it’s to tell me to stop doing something!” Their breath hitched, “And you’re sick and– and I don't want you to die. I don’t know what to do anymore.”
Whumpee’s chest ached. They felt like they were being cracked open, pulled apart to let something inhuman out. But they couldn’t. They couldn’t prove Whumper right—
But it was right there and they were starving, they were so damn hungry so —
"Do you want to help me?" They barely recognized the monotonous voice as their own. They didn’t know when they’d decided to speak.
“Yes! Fuck, yes. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong—”
"Do you really want to help me?" They felt like a passenger within their own body, watching themselves stalk closer to Caretaker with slow, deliberate steps. They were so hungry.
Caretaker didn't hesitate. "Yes. Whatever you need, anything! I’ll make the guards listen or, or something, but I’ll get it.” And oh, it felt like permission. Caretaker didn't know what they were offering, they had no idea but it felt like permission and they couldn't resist and—
And Whumpee lunged forward.
Caretaker didn't have the chance to react. Whumpee slammed into them and held, pinning them to the ground. From this close, Whumpee could feel how Caretaker’s breath quickened, how their heart pounded as they held themself perfectly still, like a rabbit trying to go unnoticed.
Whumpee felt like a wolf that'd finally caught their prey.
"W-what? What are–what are you–Let go! You're hurting me!" Caretaker gasped beneath them, beginning to struggle. Whumpee held them tighter, something in them relishing the yelp of pain they let out.They looked Caretaker in their wide, frightened eyes and stared. 
The effect was instantaneous. Caretaker froze beneath them, eyes locking into Whumpee's. The panic and terror in their eyes made Whumpee's chest ache, both with anticipation and a feeling they were too far gone to identify. 
And then everything in those eyes was gone, swept away by Whumpee's will. Caretaker went limp in their arms. They stared ahead, unseeing, enthralled. Vulnerable. 
Whumpee’s heart sang with relief as their fangs pierced Whumpee’s neck and finally, finally they ate.
Whumper came later that day, just like they always did.
“You can’t deny what you are. Pretending to be human will just bring you misery.” 
Whumpee’s hands were shaking. They were unable to tear their eyes away from Caretaker, shirt soaked with blood and staring up at nothing. If they couldn’t hear the blood flowing in their veins, Whumpee might’ve thought they were dead. 
“Just…just help them. I understand now, alright? I’ve learned my lesson.” And it was true. They remember how they’d relished the taste of Caretaker’s blood, how they’d nearly bled them dry without any concern for their safety. How could they ever try to live a normal life again, now that they knew they were a few missed meals away from tearing their loved ones apart? 
Whumper grinned, fangs glistening.
17 notes · View notes
gabenvrhappened · 3 months
Text
LifeOr... The Airplane Didn't Crash
Tumblr media
Read the inspired lyric Catastrophic Minds
Going to London was a wild ride, from beginning to end. Intense were the months leading to the day I would enter the plane that would reset my whole life. Intense were the moments I stayed in packed airports and small seats. My throat was hurting, and my head was working non-stop. Once in my life I saw something as big as this going down the drain right in front of my eyes, and this episode still follows me to this day. I won't say it haunts me because I learned valuable lessons from it, but it's undeniable how I still second-guess some things. Like getting on a plane to London to start a new life.
Those long hours made me ponder about many things. The one that banged my head the most was how it's crazy how human beings are wired to think the worst-case scenario out of every single thing. If someone you love doesn't pick up the phone, for example, and you don't get a hold of them for more time than you're used to, then you probably think something terrible happened to them . When something comes easily to you, then it's probably not good for you because we've been told that nothing easy is worth the fight, so everything needs to have a struggle to be worth it.
Watching the sun rising on the window, over the bay of Biscay, I fought the demons that were falling from grace from the sky, trying to get into the white flying big piece of aluminum I was being miraculously carried on (flying farther on a river and a fast bullet flying from a gun, all at the same time). Impossible questions were trying to grow like poison ivy on the cavities of my body, making me want to play a game of chess against end possibilities, and all of them were more catastrophic than the others. "What ifs" and "What will I dos" kept balancing on a tightrope in the hope to make the other one fall and call it a win, as if they were both good things.
Why can't we think of what can go right instead of what can go wrong? Why can't our minds create positive thoughts without creating anxiety and expectations? Well, those are rhetorical questions because I know why. I must have read somewhere that thinking of all that could go wrong is a defense mechanism that we grew to develop hundreds of years as a way to prepare us for anything that might happen in this unpredictable life. Which is confusing, since anything means thousands of options and we don't plan thousands of outcomes in our heads. We get obsessive with just a couple of things and ruminate them over and over again like a piece of gum we don't even notice it lost its flavor. Always the same lines, always the same fears.
And when we don't think of the worst, we daydream of perfect scenarios. I don't know if you daydream of things you want to happen and don't get sad when they don't happen, but I do (if you don't, you've won the lotery). My daydreams cause expectations, and expectations are reality's worst enemy. Daydreaming is trying to be in control of things we can't control. It's thinking we know better than everything that's around us and better than the thing that makes the sun rise or the wind blow oxygen into our lungs.
I'm trying to change my "what ifs". Instead of "what if the plane crashes and I lose the chance to see what will happen in life?" to "what if the plane lands safely and I get the chance to have a clean slate?" Instead of "what if my throat turns out to be a problem and they think I have a horrible disease?" to "what if they know it's normal to get your voice messed up on a twenty-hour flight inside a capsule?"
At the end, the airplane didn't crash. My throat didn't kill me. All the answers were answered. Nothing appeared out of nowhere in my bag. And there I was, at a never-ending parking lot of the airport looking for a friend that would get me, and the friends who came to pick me up, home. Where I would sleep in a kid's bed in late-night clothes.
It's true; I won't lie. It's not easy. I still think that I won't get to be who I want to be. These intrusive thoughts come, but they have to go. I know nothing about tomorrow, so there's no use in wondering. If lots of bad things can happen, I'd rather think lots of incredible things will happen. No more catastrophic minds if I can help it.
0 notes
adhduck · 3 years
Text
Oh Well, I Guess We’re Gonna Pretend
AO3
(Major spoilers for rqg 207)
Wilde is at a party with all his loved ones, and everything in his life is finally falling into place.
He’s also unconscious on the floor of the world’s last safehouse, and something is coming for him.
--
“Come on, Oscar, dance with us.”
Wilde blinks, realizes Hamid is standing in front of him with his hand outstretched; probably a symbolic gesture, considering he’d be hard-pressed to pull someone double his height.
Smiling, Wilde sets his half-empty champagne flute on the table. “Of course. Care to join, Zolf?”
Zolf, who’s slouching in the next seat with his long, worn coat tucked around him in a fabulous display of I am not a party person, scoffs fondly. “Absolutely not. ‘Sides, it’s yer party, Wilde, not mine.”
“It’s our party,” Wilde says with mock offense, putting a hand on his chest. “Didn’t you hear my toast?”
“Half of it, maybe.”
Wilde rolls his eyes, but relents and squeezes Zolf’s shoulder; presses down a smile when Zolf catches his hand for a second and pats it. “I’ll get you to have fun one day, Zolf, mark my words.” He’s rewarded with a gruff little mumble, and then Hamid tugs on his coattail to pull him away.
[Cel is still reeling from the shock of electricity when they see it. It’s large, with a body that could be humanoid if not for the oversized head, how its body seems not to take up space but distort it. If not for the six-foot swords it has instead of arms.
Instinct kicking in, Cel pulls two bombs from their pockets and throws them in rapid succession. Even with their hands trembling a little – they always do, the first few moments of combat – Cel know each one is perfectly weighted and near perfectly aimed.
The creature doesn’t even flinch.
It only takes a moment to process what that means – limited bombs, a 5% chance of hitting at best, almost a third of their own health taken in one hit – before Cel abandons the idea of attacking and reaches instead for Hamid. He’s desperately light, clothes singed and hissing; as Cel pulls him to their chest, he curls instinctively into the touch.
“Hang on, little buddy,” they whisper, trying fiercely to sound sure. “You just keep dreaming for now; I’ll keep you safe.”
They just need to get him through the door.]
There are a few people dancing, but the clear stars are Azu and Kiko—partly due to Azu’s shimmering, lightly glowing pink gown, but mostly because of the dance itself. It’s a bright, lively partner dance Wilde hasn’t seen before, where they pull in and out of each other’s embrace with twirls and dips and lots of laughter. It looks equally exhausting and exhilarating.
Azu notices him mid-spin and brightens immediately, waving him over. “Kiko, you mind if I show Wilde the ropes?”
Kiko grins and gracefully steps back, half-bowing in the process. “Yeah, sure. Long as I can watch.”
So Azu works Wilde through the steps, out of sync with the music at first to get them right, then faster as he gains confidence, and soon they, too, are spinning and laughing. “You,” Wilde says when they pause to catch their breath, adjusting the frill around his neck, “are an excellent dance partner, Azu.”
Azu preens a little. “Oh, thank you! Though I doubt I’ve got much competition, knowing Zolf.”
Chuckling, Wilde glances at the man in question to find him looking back, chin in hand and a fond smile tugging at his mouth—for a moment, at least, before he darts his eyes away with flushing cheeks. Wilde’s heart sings.
[Azu looks sharply between her friends – half of them unconscious, all of them wounded – and the advancing creature. It seems completely unconcerned by the weapons being pulled as it wades into the fray, dodging a heavy swing from Zolf without even acknowledging him. The swords protruding from its shoulders are almost as long as she is tall.
We can’t win this, Azu realizes. Not while it’s this strong. Pressing a hand to her chest, where her pendant rests safely beneath the armor, she calls to her goddess with words of love and protection and rage. The divine energy builds in her chest, bringing the dull glow of her armor to a bright shine; she throws her hand outwards, flinging the energy with it in all directions, and there—at last, the creature hesitates. It stops as suddenly as if caught in a rockslide, making a noise halfway between a groan of pain and the grinding of stuck gears, and Azu starts to feel hopeful.
Then, it raises its blade.]
Azu catches the movement and smiles conspiratorially. “You know, there are gardens out back that are much quieter than in here.”
”Ah, but you forget,” Wilde replies, putting on his best performer voice. “That just guarantees Sasha will be there, hidden amongst the foliage, waiting to strike.”
Giggling a little, Azu says, “The worst you’ll get from her is some rumors about you and Zolf that are actually true.”
Wilde gasps in (mostly) faux horror. “Don’t even say that.”
Azu laughs for real now, a full and surprised thing, and pushes his shoulder lightly. “Go spend time with him, the party will survive without you a while.” Wilde pouts a little at that, and she tips her head toward Hamid; he’s dancing with complete abandon a few feet away, wings half-unfurled and arms raised high in the air as he spins. Already, a few people have been pulled into his orbit, letting their awkward shuffling loosen into something more inelegant, more natural. “We’ve got it covered. Now go, before you start having deadlines again.”
“To be fair, we have an entire holiday between now and then,” Wilde argues—a bit superfluously, considering he’s already moving away.
Zolf greets Wilde’s approach by sitting up in his chair, eyebrows furrowed and hands raised defensively. “If you try to get me to dance, Wilde, I swear to gods—”
“Already learned my lesson with that one, darling.” Zolf’s ears go a little pink, and Wilde is powerless against the urge to lean into it. “Of course, there are plenty of dances we haven’t tried together—”
“Oh, sod off,” Zolf says, kicking Wilde lightly in the shin; his ears are red, though, so he’s already lost the fight.
[Augusta makes no noise as she’s stabbed through the heart; dead before the pain had a chance to wake her. It’s a mercy, perhaps, but one Cel refuses to let happen to anyone else.
The creature shifts, pulling back its bloodied weapon with Hamid as the clear target, and Cel lunges towards the door, clutching Hamid fiercely against them—and is stopped cold as the creature pierces right through Hamid’s chest.
Like Augusta, Hamid doesn’t cry out when he’s stabbed. He doesn’t move, either; not even when the blade is yanked back out with just force it nearly tugs him from Cel’s arms. Panting, they gather him back against their chest, whatever miniscule safety that might entail, and feel for a pulse. It’s there, thank gods, but only just. He might only have seconds left, and there’s nothing they can do.
At the corner of Hamid’s mouth, Cel can see a smile – the kind he might give during the opening toast of a party, now just the shadow of some wonderful dream – and they do not cry, because what fucking good would that do?]
Just to seal the deal, Wilde drops to his knees in front of Zolf’s chair, bringing them almost eye to eye, and flashes his shiniest grin as he teases, “Don’t worry, I know you love it.” He allows a few seconds for Zolf to huff and pointedly not answer, feeling his chest radiate with warmth, then adds, “Anyway, want to get out of here?”
Zolf’s eyebrows raise, then quickly furrow. “What’re you- that was an awful transition line, ya know. Unless you’re tryna seduce me or somethin’, in which case, why.”
“I’m always trying to seduce you, Zolf, it just never works,” Wilde replies easily. “That’s why I enjoy it so much. And anyway, that’s not what I was asking about. There’s apparently a garden out back, and I thought you might want to take a walk with me.”
“Ain’t you got allergies?”
“It’ll be quiet out there. Poetic.”
Zolf considers for a second, looking Wilde over with a slowly forming smile he’s definitely not conscious of, and for a moment there’s nothing else Wilde wants more than this: kneeling in front of the man he loves, basking in his quiet attention, knowing there’s exciting work ahead and time enough to rest before it comes.
[Zolf spins around, ready to level another attack – he hasn’t hit the thing yet, but maybe if he aims a little lower, forces it to turn for him instead – when he sees the blade sliding out of Hamid’s chest. No. Absolutely not. Without checking it’s clear, he rushes forward, dropping the glaive to his side and redirecting that power into the tips of his fingers. He licks his thumb, presses it firmly to Hamid’s forehead, and, with a low note of please humming in the back of his chest, mutters words of hope and determination into the staticky air.
The wound heals almost immediately, closing like a budding flower in reverse to leave a raised, slightly jagged line of scar tissue; the only proof of how close Hamid was to death. His wings flutter, trying to unfurl in the confines of Cel’s arms, and for a moment, he stirs. Zolf and Cel both breathe out in relief, but by the time he opens his eyes, the poison overcomes him again, and he curls back into Cel’s chest with a contented sound, asleep and completely unaware of the danger around him.
Not exactly what I had in mind, Zolf thinks, but there’s no sharpness to it. The poison in the air was strong enough to knock out people twice Hamid’s size, so he can’t imagine how strong it must be on him. And besides: this might not be a fight where all of them – any of them – get out alive. Can he really blame Hamid for wanting to dream instead?]
“All right, Wilde,” Zolf says at last. “Let’s go for a walk.”
The gardens aren’t particularly large, but they use the space well—bright flowers lining the walkway, bushes and trees bunched together to create the illusion of depth and privacy. Beneath the largest tree, there’s a clear spot where the light filters through like sparkles and the roots breach the soil in just the right way to make a sort of alcove.
It’s exactly the sort of place Wilde would’ve yearned to write poetry in as a teenager, so of course he tugs Zolf over to sit down.
“Thought this was a walk,” Zolf says, eyebrows raised, but makes no argument when Wilde lays down with his head in Zolf’s  lap. His fingers quickly find their way into Wilde’s hair, untangling it little by little, and Wilde can’t stop himself from pushing into the touch with a little hum. Thankfully, Zolf just chuckles, scratching lightly at Wilde’s scalp for a moment before continuing.
There’s silence for a few moments, and Wilde idly searches for a pun he can use to fill it; it’s difficult to focus, though, when Zolf is gathering his hair into sections for a braid, those careful fingers brushing occasionally against his temple, his neck, his jaw.
Finally, what Wilde settles for is: “I hope we’re actually allowed out here. I’d hate to go home early because Grizzop took a swing at me again.”
Zolf snorts. “Don’t tempt me. I’ve always wished I had seen that in person.”
“Some partner you are,” Wilde grumbles, trying not to melt when Zolf tucks a few shorter strands of hair behind his ear. “S’posed to defend me, not join the enemy.”
[Zolf does a rapid once-over of Cel to make sure they’re not injured as well. They’re panting and wide-eyed and definitely only not in shock because there’s not time for it, but seem physically all right, which is about as much as he can hope for right now.
He glances to the door of the lab, where Ada and Skraak also seem to be managing okay—and, importantly, where there’s clean air and a door between them and the monster. Grabbing Cel’s arm, Zolf injects as much authority in his voice as he can and orders, “Get in there, close the door, be safe.”
Without waiting for a reply, he sets his glaive on fire and turns back to the fight. They might not all make it out of here – always a risk, in this line of work – but he’ll still do his damndest to make sure at least some of them do.]
There’s no response, save for a suppressed smile and the continuous back-and-forth motion of Zolf’s steady hands. Wilde basks in it for a moment, getting to lay quietly in the grass without even his allergies interrupting them. It brings to mind when he was a child, rolling down muddy hills with his sister and seeing how long the world tiled after they reached the bottom, dazed and laughing.
“She would have loved this party,” he says, brushing a hand through the barely damp grass at his hip. “Isola, I mean.”
“You could’ve brought her, you know,” Zolf replies. “I could’ve- I dunno, watched her, or somethin’. Not like I was doing much anyway.”
Wilde laughs. “She would be terrified of you.”
[Moving has already proven dangerous, so Cel shifts Hamid in their arms and throws him through the door; once he’s safely inside, they swallow their alchemical allocation and pull a previously untouched potion from their jacket. Dragon’s breath—the one they’d been so excited to get after seeing a glimpse of Hamid’s power; the one they’d chattered back and forth about days or maybe months ago, excited to see when Cel might try it out.
“Not leaving you,” Cel says firmly to Zolf’s back, and chugs the potion. Lightning crackles in their body once again, except this time, it feels powerful instead of painful. This time, Cel is going to be helpful instead of helpless. Whatever it takes.]
Zolf snorts. “Oh, so that’s why I haven’t met her yet.”
“Yes, I’m just absolutely terrified you’ll smite her with all your holy rage,” Wilde deadpans, twisting obediently when Zolf taps the side of his head. “Or gods forbid, convert her to hope.”
“Oi,” Zolf says, tugging lightly on Wilde’s hair. “That hope has saved your arse twenty times by now.”
[Azu catches sight of Hamid breathing and nearly crumples with relief. He’s not dead, she didn’t kill him, she might not have to lose someone else—but there’s not time for that, not yet. They have to destroy this thing first, before it hurts anyone else.
She swings her axe as hard as she can, a scream building in her throat as it moans through the air, and – miraculously – it connects. There’s a satisfying thunk, a sharp note of pain; but as she goes to hit it again, it seems not just to dodge, but actively unform and reform around her axe. Learning. Adapting.
In the second it takes for Azu to regain her footing, the monster sinks one of its blades into Sumutnyerl’s chest. The air seems to freeze for a moment, but the strike is lower than it intended, in the stomach rather than the heart, so maybe it isn’t fatal, but Azu doesn’t know. She just doesn’t know.]
Humming noncommittally, Wilde turns his head to look at Zolf, and when he sees the concentration in Zolf’s summer sky eyes, he’s pierced all over again with the force of how much he loves this man—and how much he, in return, is loved. Gods, Zolf is smiling the way he only ever does for a Campbell, and he’s braiding Wilde’s hair as if it’s the most important work his hands have been tasked with, and he looks so utterly, brilliantly happy that Wilde can hardly stand it.
“You alive in there?” Zolf says, tapping him lightly on the cheek.
[There is only one person left unharmed, the horror of the situation made almost a farce by Wilde’s oversized neck ruff and glittering cape. Almost, but not quite, because when the creature turns – body shifting in and out of focus, sword-like arms dripping with the blood of every other being in this corridor – it turns for him.]
Wilde smiles, catching Zolf’s hand before he can pull away. “Yeah,” he murmurs, stupidly fond with it, and rests his lips against Zolf’s knuckles. Zolf’s breath hitches, staring with undisguised awe and quickly reddening cheeks, and Wilde can’t even look at him, he’s so happy. He ducks his head, pushing it against their joined hands; feels Zolf’s warm callouses all the way into his bones. “Thanks to you.”
[There is only one person left.]
“Wilde,” Zolf breathes; a prayer, a promise. Lips press clumsily to his hair, brush his temple as they soak in each other’s presence. “You saved me, too, ya know. So- so many times. I need you, yeah? And I- it- gods, I’m horrible at this, but I just, you’re
[Zolf sees it, this time, when Wilde dies. Sees the sword pierce his chest – right in the heart, a perfect shot – and yank back out with almost careless indifference before the creature turns and does the same thing to Sumutnyerl.
Even dead, Wilde manages to look artistic. His ridiculous cape is flung out beneath him, one arm draped above his head, the barest trace of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He’d been this way after the crash, too, impaled almost a foot off the ground with his limbs dangling and chin flung up to the sky; the perfect semblance of a martyr being raised into heaven. Had he been unconscious then, too? Zolf thinks. Or did he feel the spike go all the way through his chest before he succumbed from the pain?
Doesn’t matter. Zolf had time to mourn when he saved Wilde then; he doesn’t have time now.
Skraak and Ada both attack, but Zolf doesn’t know if the hits land, refuses to process anything that isn’t Wilde and the mere seconds left before he’s gone for good. He throws himself forward, landing hard on his knees beside Wilde’s head, and starts to pray. The magic builds like strong drink in his throat, and he clumsily wipes the blood from Wilde’s mouth as the spell reaches its peak—and is nearly knocked over as the monster deals a crushing blow to his temple.
His vision goes briefly white, blood already dripping down his cheek and jaw, and the magic begins to fizzle away, but he refuses, he refuses. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Zolf presses a hand firmly to the desecration of Wilde’s chest, cradles his cheek with the other. He’s still warm with hope, and Zolf channels that into his prayer, pressing their foreheads together in a way that might’ve been painful, had Wilde been awake to feel it.
Please, he begs the power inside him; begs anyone who’ll listen. Please. Let this be enough to bring him back to me.
The magic bubbles inside Zolf once more, sparkling and bright and warm, and there’s no way to know, really, if it’s enough. It doesn’t matter, of course, because he doesn’t need to know. Because when he presses his mouth to Wilde’s, stroking his cheek and breathing every last ounce of that vital energy into his body, Zolf has hope.
And there, where Zolf’s fingers curl tenderly against Wilde’s neck, new and weak but steady all the same—a pulse.]
 The first thing Wilde registers is breath on his face, warmth in his throat—then pain, all over his body but especially in his chest, gods, what happened? He opens his eyes, hoping to regain his bearings; Zolf is there, face mere inches away from his own, which is a nice start.
Realizing he’s awake, Zolf pulls away, fingertips brushing against Wilde’s cheek as he goes. His other hand is pressed firmly to Wilde’s chest, and there’s blood running freely from a wound at his temple. He looks about to cry.
If Wilde didn’t feel unmoored before, he certainly does now. “Zolf- wh- what-”
In lieu of an answer, Zolf pulls Wilde to his feet. There are flashes of movement to the side, none of which Wilde is capable of processing yet; Zolf grabs his arm, which is easier. He looks resolved, in that urgent way he used to get just before leaving on solo missions; Wilde has just enough time to be scared about that before Zolf pulls him close and says, “Get the others out and be safe.”
Wilde opens his mouth in question, but Zolf’s already shoving him away. He stumbles backwards a few steps, more out of shock than actual force, before losing his balance and landing hard on his elbows just inside the lab. His neck snaps back a little, making his vision swim, but he blinks hard to clear it and now, now, he sees it all. The creature. The dead. The ones left standing.
For just a moment, Wilde catches sight of Zolf’s face before he turns away. His eyes nearly glow, lips parted around gritted teeth, and there is rage in his features like Wilde has never seen before. Then he raises his burning glaive, this idiotic man that Wilde loves so unbearably much, and growls, “Right. It’s yer turn now.”
67 notes · View notes
skellebonez · 3 years
Note
I'm about to ask something very selfish but in my defense, I love the way you wrote the nightmare prompts for Macaque. So how about we give Swap!Macaque (and/or Mei) some nightmares too?! Maybe with 5 and 37?
Not selfish at all! I love getting prompts from you and filling them every time! This one hit me with a lot of inspiration super fast actually, I loved writing this! It doesn’t seem to mater which Macaque it is, I like making this monkey man suffer through horrific nightmares.
Warning: descriptions of blood and dead bodies in the nightmare, everything is a nightmare until the linebreak, Mac’s thoughts are racing, eye injury, lots of struck through text that may make it hardish to read.
Kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here./This is all your fault by the way.
When Macaque arrived the ground of Flower Fruit Mountain was bathed in crimson and smelled of copper and fear.
He didn’t remember arriving, just that he had, and his stomach churned as he realized that among the red there were bodies. How did he miss the bodies? There were too many bodies that didn’t belong, none belonged but they shouldn’t be here they were long dead why were they here now.
Macaque didn’t stop to check the bodies. Didn’t stop to check on Red Son’s parents, hair loose and horns missing. Didn’t stop to check on Mei’s friends, the larger one curled around his smaller companions in a protective way that hadn’t helped why was he why was Tang why that shouldn’t be possible how he couldn’t be here not like this.
There were more bodies, people who he recognized from centuries ago, people that were long gone, people that should not be dead, people he didn’t stop to check on either.
He had to find Mei, Red Son, and MK. That was the only thing he could feel rushing through his mind he had to find his kid the kids. As long as the kids were alright he could...  they could...
Suddenly he had made it back to the place Sun Wukong had kept him not so long ago, the place where MK had come to rescue him, the place where he was nearly tricked with a clone wearing Mei’s face it was so cruel Wukong would stoop so low to keep him still he wouldn’t be tricked again no no.
“You’re late,” Wukong’s voice reverberated all around him did the room used to echo like this as he emerged from the shadows, smirking that same smirk he always wore but with a more victorious tilt. “Not that it really matters, I was able to handle the ones who tried to stop me quite easily.”
“Where are they?” Macaque hissed out, low and threatening and growling deep in his throat as Wukong’s smirk only grew more jovial.
“They’re right here, Liu Er,” Wukong said, motioning to a spot that Macaque had somehow not noticed before was that there before he should have seen it.
In the corner of the room laid MK and Red Son, MK curled up on Red’s chest and holding him tight, looking more exhausted and still than Macaque had ever seen them before. They were coated in blood, not their own it seemed, but the bruises were certainly theirs. Had it not been for MK’s nearly imperceptible fearful sleeping shudders and the soft raise and fall of Red’s chest barely moving MK’s head he would have thought them gone as well were they clones they couldn’t be could they Wukong wouldn’t make a second MK right?.
Mei was not with them.
“Kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here,” Wukong continued as easily as if he was talking about a nice summer’s day, and he turned and Macaque realized his tail was still hidden in shadow. “Far too cautious after their last encounters with me I suppose. Smart, if I am being generous. But they learned their lesson quickly that they would not be rescued. They seem happy enough, being given the chance to stay together, howev-”
“Where is Mei?” Macaque interrupted with another growl, louder and angrier and still looking behind the other monkey with fear and anticipation rising in him.
“Why, she’s right here of course,” Wukong said, voice dripping in poisonous buttercup sweetness as he pulled his tail out of the shadows and Mei along with it.
She looked... unharmed, appearance almost immaculate even. The fears of her being a clone welled up in Macaque once again but her eyes... full of fear and rage, as she glowered up at the Monkey King and tried pull her arms out from under the tail wrapped around her waist, they were hers. It was Mei. It was Mei it was his kid she was safe she was ok his kid was ok why was she unharmed that didn’t make sense.
“I wanted you to be here for this, Liu Er,” Wukong said the second Macaque let out a breathe of relief, and before he could react he was being held down. More Wukongs, clones that looked nothing like MK, holding his arms and legs and waist and one holding his head up to force him to look what was he supposed to see no don’t make him look he knew was was to come didn’t he he didn’t want to see he should be able to fight this why couldn't he. “I asked you before didn’t I? What if I gave her a scar to match yours?” He flexed his hand, another clone coming up behind Mei to hold her head still as her eyes her eyes widened in fear.
It happened too fast, all at once, but it felt too slow. Wukong brought his claw down swift and sharp and there was red and Mei was screaming.
“There,” Wukong chuckled, gently wiping the blood away from her eye to show Macaque his work. “Now you really match him Sweetie...” He turned to Macaque clearly enjoying the horror that must have been on his face. “This is all your fault by the way.”
Mei continued to scream.
----------
“NO!” Macaque screamed out, panting heavily as he sat up in bed.
There were no clones. No smell of blood. No dead bodies.
No Sun Wukong.
Macaque laid his head in his hands, breathing still heavy as he tried to calm himself down. Everyone was alive. His friends were alright. Mei’s friends were alright. The dead were not here anymore. MK and Red Son weren’t hurt. Mei was... Mei... was...
He had to take a deeper breathe to calm himself again, knowing it was impossible. If there was no smell of blood then Mei was fine.
But something in the back of his mind screamed at him to check on her anyway, just in case, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaving his room anyway. He hoped that his yelling hadn’t woken anyone else, and from the looks of it they hadn’t. The rest of Fire Cloud Cave was still asleep, his ears picking up on the deep breathing and snores and occasional mumbles of the others.
It didn’t take long for him to reach the place where Mei was staying, shifting into something smaller just in case to sneak by to keep from waking anyone. He didn’t want to wake anyone just because he was worrying over something that couldn’t have happened.
Mei was there. Sleeping soundly even as he transformed back, hair flopped down over her face. Carefully, Macaque let his glamor fall and he rubbed his thumb over the scar that graced his eye. The tissue was angry and rough and nothing else felt like it.
He reached down after a moment to steel himself, rubbing his thumb along Mei’s forehead. Just in case.
Nothing. Just regular smooth skin. No scar tissue. No feeling of magic or glamor to hide it.
She was alright.
She didn’t match him.
Macaque couldn’t suppress the shudders in his shoulders as he felt himself lose the adrenaline that rushed him here, the soft touch of moisture on the edge of his eyes at the relief that he was wrong and overthinking a nightmare.
He couldn’t bring himself to go back to sleep though. He felt... guilty, knowing he hadn’t checked on anyone else in the dream. He watched Mei for a moment before moving on to check MK and Red. Then he would check on the others.
He could sleep once he knew for certain they were all safe, as tired as he was that was more important to him.
He would keep them safe.
177 notes · View notes
tales-unique · 3 years
Text
FAITH, LOST VI
The softness got me like 😩 I hope you enjoy it! ♥
@maddi-bug & @chelseareferenced & @actual-trash-goblin
Chapter 6
Heisenberg is gone for longer than usual. It's to be expected, given how swift and intense the explosion was, only this time you're aware of just how much you miss him when he's not there. It’s cathartic, no longer having your feelings hidden in the deepest parts of yourself. Upon reflection, you realize that you enjoy the power struggle between the two of you and that there is no shame in it. Pleasure, you had come to learn, wouldn’t compromise your dignity or pride in yourself, and wasn’t something to be demonized or resented. Weightless from this revelation, your mind drifts to the last words he spoke before leaving you; we aren’t done here . Fire blooms in your stomach, dripping lower until you’re squirming where you sit cross-legged on Heisenberg's bed. Your skin still tingles from where he held you in his rough grasp, white noise erupting all over your body. It’s clear just what the phrase implies , but at the same time you have no exact idea what to expect when he returns and that’s part of what makes this all so thrilling . Though even with all the positive feelings that come with this, you can’t help but still feel conflicted. You find yourself lost in the moment, sent adrift in a vast ocean with no lifeline.
Now, it wasn’t as though you hadn’t had sex before, because you had. It was only once, in the hayloft of the village stables with a young man named Nicolai that you were fond of. He worked in the fields and you often saw him on your way to Church, where he’d smile and wink at you. He’d happened upon you when you’d lingered near the edge of the fields one day after morning Mass, bashfully accepting when he proposed that you go somewhere quieter together. You remember that his kisses were soft, but he was a little pushy, and once he was done that was it. No real connection, no real passion, just motion until you were both done, and even then you weren’t completely sure if you were done. Then a week later he was dead, mauled to death in that very same hayloft by a Lycan, along with a girl from your congregation named Irina. You can only imagine the reason why she was there with him that day. It sat, bitter like poison, within you for some time after their deaths, knowing that this hadn’t been the special thing you had been led to believe; this divine virtue that needed to be protected until you were lawfully wed, where all would finally make sense. Then you met Lord Karl Heisenberg and everything was suddenly turned on its head. Since you had come to the Factor you had been exposed to a more sexually charged and free environment, with Heisenberg's flirtatious teasing a regular occurrence, as well as his sarcasm and moods, culminating in the spark that set all this motion when he had you pinned to the desk in his office. You were given no room to avoid it, no chance to hide behind demureness and virtue, and because of that you were able to grow . You now embraced what this freedom could give you and it was all because of his pushing. At first it didn’t sit well with you, it squirmed and fought, but the disquieting sensation dissipated easily and you were left with an insatiable hunger for all things you had been denied, scandalous or otherwise. Biting your lip, a devious little thought fills your head; you needed to thank him when he came back.
When Heisenberg does come back to you it's already well into the night, and in anticipation of his return he finds that you’re not in your room when he looks, instead, amusingly, you’re actually in his . Sound asleep, you’re curled up on his bed with the sheets clutched in your dainty fingers up to your face. He watches from the doorway the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as you breathe and the way your long lashes kiss your cheeks. You’ve clearly been busy while he was gone, having ordered the disheveled work desk to semi-neatness so he can at least still find his things. Straightened papers, pens put in the holder, lined his tools up for easy access. It’s something he doesn’t outwardly thank you for, but  has most certainly come to value. You don’t overstep, you merely aid, and it’s in these quiet moments of downtime that he realizes how much he appreciates the little things you do for him. Yes, it began with your faith and devotion to Mother Miranda and her decree for you to serve him, but he isn’t naive enough to believe that’s all there is to it. Not now, anyway. You don’t have to be caring towards him in your servitude, in your own little ways, like becoming annoyed with him when he tells you he hasn’t eaten all day or hasn't drunk enough water while working. Soft, kind-hearted things; things he isn’t used to. Trying to be as quiet as he can, Heisenberg walks over to where you lay, settling on the edge of the bed by your side. You squirm in your sleep as his weight dips the mattress but you don’t wake up, merely curling up tighter with a soft sigh. He watches your sleeping form with pinched brows, the uncomfortable intensity of yearning twisting knots within him. A hesitant hand comes to brush your cheek with his thumb, cupping it gently. Such tender affections were not something the Lord was known for, or used to receiving from others, given the magnitude of sins he had performed at the behest of his hatred for Miranda, her manipulations and betrayals, and his insatiable need to be free of the confinement he was forced into. Ulterior motives were second nature in his world, the lesson that kindness and affection were a means to an end instilled in him from an early age. Yet the compulsion, new and alarming, to give in to your motiveless warmth had wormed its way deep inside, threatening to shatter him from within. Not that he wasn’t trying to fight it, he was . Like a wild mustang refusing to yield to anyone, he twisted and pulled and snapped at the feeling, it’s tendrils repelled as much as he could, but he was slowly weakening to its constant attacks. It just wouldn’t leave him be . The realization was harsh and unforgiving that you are well on your way to becoming someone that would, in time, serve to weaken him, grinding down his walls just as the sea wears away the rocks on its shores until they resemble nothing of their former selves. The thought irks him and in a childish display of spitefulness he pulls his hand back from your face, lips curling into a snarl. His fingers burst with static, punishing him for prematurely cutting the contact, and he tries to smother the sensation by tightening his hand into a fist. It doesn’t help. He can still feel it and he hates that he misses it, like some love-sick pup! It ties his stomach in knots and sets his blood aflame. He’s hyper aware of you laying behind him, overwhelmed when you turn over and your knees press against his back. Lulled by your gentle, slumbering breaths, a calming serenade, Heisenberg’s hand slowly unfurls to rest on his leg. Though he’s still very much on edge. The dizzying free-fall into such conflicting emotions sends him nauseous, reeling from the sudden severity of it. You were just a weak, pathetic human , for fucks sake! You had no right to come barging into his life and start wrecking shit up with your pretty smiles and warm eyes! All those selfless moments he tries so desperately to poke holes in, only to find that they’re as sound as a concrete wall. It has him doubting, however minutely, the thought that everyone was out to get
him and that scared him. Quickly standing, he decides even being in the same room as you is too much. Everything is suddenly stifling, the heat cloying and making his throat burn. He doesn’t even check to see if he’s disturbed you as he exits the room, head throbbing mercilessly. There’s nowhere left in the factory that’s safe from your influence; the rooms smell of you, the hallways echo with your voice, his things marked by your touch — you’re everywhere , encasing him. And he doesn’t help that fact when he finds himself standing in the middle of your room. His keen senses are overwhelmed by the space, your space, but it isn’t so disarming this time. No, now he’s growing to like it against his better judgement. You’ll ruin him and he’s slowly coming around to the idea of letting you do it, too. It makes him sick, that thought, but it doesn’t really matter as he sits down on the couch where you sleep, fingers smoothing over the sheets you’ve neatly folded over it. There’s a twisted sense of irony in how he finds comfort in being surrounded by your things, as little as they are, when trying so desperately trying to get away from you. It doesn’t make sense, but since when did anything in his fucked up life? "Fuck," he moaned, the word drawn-out in his frustration as he laid his head back to stare up at the ceiling.
"Heisenberg?" The Lord tilts his head to look at where you stand in the doorway, your tender question alerting him to your presence. You're a picture of post-slumber beauty; hair dishevelled and fluffed up on one side from where you had been laying, eyes hazy with sleep, your top languidly slipping down one shoulder, creased from your rest. Your brow is pinched as you regard him, gently padding over to where he sits. "Sleeping Beauty finally wakes up, huh?" He chuckles, casually slinging his arm over the back of the couch. “Did you enjoy sleeping in my bed?” He teases with a smirk. “You were gone too long,” you retorted, fixing him with a tired glare, pulling your legs up as you settle down beside him, “and you don’t let me down into the lower levels with you, do you?” “I know, but this was serious,” Heisenberg sighed, his free hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut in frustration, “one of the fucking conveyor lines decided to go ka-pow !” He punctuates his statement with a mimic of the explosion, both hands involved before dropping down limply. “It was jammed. I got it under control but the fallout was, well, messy ,” he explained, taking off his glasses and putting them aside on the couch arm, along with his tossed coat and gloves. You frown at the way he drags his hands down his face, sighing deeply. He’s exhausted and there’s nothing you can really do that you haven’t already tried. “At least it’s fixed now, yes?” You ask softly as you turn to sit cross-legged, facing him. You have a look of worry creasing your features and Heisenberg is quick to hide the rising emotion with his usual swagger. “Of course it is, why do you think I’ve been gone so long?” He scoffs, shaking his head. His leg begins to jiggle under the weight of your wary gaze, knowing that he’s not fooling you in the slightest. You’ve seen enough of him, the vulnerability he has, to know an act of bravado when he’s conjuring it. It’s unsettling to know that you have a means of undermining his power over you now, that you can call his bluff with somewhat decent accuracy, and he fully expects you to embrace that power. So when you gingerly move to nestle into his side, back resting against him with your head leaning against his arm where it lays slung across the back of the couch he’s pleasantly surprised. He should know better, you’ve always been soft . Even when you’re being fierce towards him and you blaze like a thousand suns it comes from a place of tenderness and care, something he doesn’t think he’ll ever truly understand about you. “I missed you.” It’s barely a whisper and even his keen hearing is strained to pick it up. There are a million sarcastic and teasing responses that he could choose from to say, and very much would have, if not for the fact that you’re right there , disarming him with a distant, non-threatening kind of affection that has him weak. It’s easier, he assumes, for you to not look at him when you tell him your truth and he’s grateful. Those big doe eyes, filled with gentle fondness, that you have when you’re being this way might just send him into overdrive at this point and he hasn’t yet come up with a game plan on how to deal with it. “Yeah?” It’s a simple response, but there’s a slight break to his voice that betrays the tempest of emotions swirling within. The air is charged with anticipation, a prickling static that is so close to erupting, all because you’ve got him going fucking soft . “Mhm,” you hum, pressing your feet into the cushions to distract yourself. Your face is ablaze with colour, your skin burning. To be so open, so raw , in such an intimate setting as this was completely foreign to you, and it didn’t help that the one you were experiencing it with was Lord Karl Heisenberg . A silence, pregnant with the onset of a coming storm, rolls over you both and you sit, listening to the sound of each other's breathing. Your heart is hammering in your chest, the hummingbird threatening to break free. White noise suddenly erupts across your body when you feel him shift, ever so slightly,
and his arm comes across your front to pull you closer. The movement is awkward, marred by a lack of experience with this kind of action, and you too have to move in order to be comfortable. It takes a moment or two but soon you both find a happy medium.You rest your cheek against his arm, nose lovingly brushing against one of the many raised, white scars that littered his skin. If only he could be so bold in this way. His body stiffens instinctively when you continue with your ministrations, resisting the urge to pull back, to push you away. His scars were a source of contention for him, among many other things, some known to you and some not, given how he had come to have them. But you didn’t seem to mind. That he now knew for sure from the way you lavished them with gentle attention, carefully tracing the lines with your dainty fingers. You even dare to press a gentle kiss to one that curls into his wrist, feeling the way his pulse jumps wildly under your lips. “I didn’t realise you had so many,” you murmur, looking over his arm with interest. He’s never spoken outright about them, but they were hard to miss. There was nary a patch of skin, seen or unseen, that didn’t have one of some kind, or so you presumed. You had no doubts in your mind that he would keep their origins from you and you wouldn’t presume to have leave to ask, but in this moment anything could be possible. Stranger things had already happened, after all. However, when he remains quiet you frown, pressing a lingering kiss to the spot, a silent apology for having been so prying. His pulse jumps again and suddenly you're pulled in closer, tighter. You gasp at the sudden shift, feeling him lean in, nosing your hair, taking in it’s scent. “You’re pretty brave tonight, huh?” He rumbled low into your ear, making you stiffen. He wanted to touch you, only this time it was different from before. It was driven by an unfamiliar desire to give intimacy as he had been given, to gain back the power you had taken. Or so he told himself. You were his, Mother Miranda had said as much when she gave you to him, but now he wanted to be yours , too. “I—” You swallow your nerves, turning so that you could look up at him with wide eyes, “—did I go too far?” It was hard to know when you had crossed a line until you were already well beyond it, incurring his wrath, so you were understandably wary, and it irked him to know that he was the source of your constant insecurity. He really was a shitty person, like you had said before. “Not at all,” he stated, lips quirking in a smile at the way your gaze softened, a bashful smile crossing your face. This thing, whatever it was that you had, was a delicate, fragile little bloom that he was striving to keep, to protect . In his mind he knew there may not ever be another chance for something like this for someone like him and so he was determined not to lose it. Not to his siblings, not to that bitch Miranda, not to anything or anyone . This time the silence is more comfortable for the both of you, his fingers drumming a nonsensical tune on your arm as you rest against him — the last vestige of his anxiousness and nerves. You don’t hold it against him, instead allowing it to lull you into a peaceful doze. Your weight, like an anchor to his wayward ship, is pleasant and he finds that quietness can indeed be peaceful. With you at his side he’s grounded, electrified but contained. It’s surreal, but he’s addicted to the odd sensations your affection gives him. It’s nothing like the sexually charged tension of before but in some ways it’s even better . He doesn’t ever want it to end, you and him, in this still, secret moment, and that worries him to no end.
65 notes · View notes
serendipitous-posts · 3 years
Text
Sacrifice you for nothing
Tubbo and Ranboo get a history lesson
title from Ain’t No Crying by Derivakat
"Damn" Tubbo says, staring up at the ceiling. "That chandelier really is fighting you every step of the way, huh?"
"And it's winning" Ranboo adds.
Foolish, hanging from the ceiling as he fixes the corner piece, glares down at him. "It is not winning" he hisses "I won't let it win." That declaration would have been a lot more solid had he not squeaked as the chandelier rocked dangerously.
If that fell and broke he would actually lose it.
Tubbo has no mercy for him. "You must hate that chandelier right now" he mocks "must be your least favourite thing in the world."
 "Nah" Foolish grips a small chunk of gold carefully in his teeth to avoid breaking it "that would be cults" he mumbles. There's a brief bit of quiet below and then;
 "Oh yeah, I heard that the Eggpire wrecked your buildings or something."
 Chandelier finally fixed (for now) Foolish drops to the floor, a fall that would have shattered anyone elses ankles but just leaves him slightly winded. "Nah" he says "I've run into cults before; one's way worse than this one."
 "Worse?!" Ranboo exclaims "worse than the parasitic chicken embryo?!"
 "Far worse" Foolish confirms body language completely relaxed despite such a dark topic
 (but outside the seas begin to froth and bubbles, rapids forming and pushing and pulling, crashing against teeth sharp rocks and punching away at the cliffs surrounding it.)
 "they seem to keep popping up wherever I go. I-
 (hate them hates them with everything he is and everything he is supposed to be divine blood in his body but he can't save them can't protect everyone can't heal everything some things can't be reversed)
 "really don't like them. They suck."
(I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so so sorry, I can take your broken pieces and stitch them back, back together and it won't be the same but it will be similar and that is all I can give you)
 (the totem in Ranboo's back pocket begins to burn)
 "I'll say" Tubbo agrees, then, with childlike curiosity and teenage macabre "which one would would you say is the worst?"
  Foolish falls still.
(the sea falls still. the totems stop burning.)
 (it is somehow worse)
 "Probably the one made for me" he says at last.
 The story goes like this; there's a village that prays to him daily. It's not that uncommon really; he's the God of the Ocean and the Undead. People pray to him for safe passage on the seas or to help them find a totem.
 But the people in this village are- to put it bluntly- really fucking annoying.
 It's not uncommon for people without totems to pray to him for hours on end, begging him to revive their loved ones, but these guys have turned it into an art form, any and all hours of the day, banging around in his head.
 And when words don't work, they turn to physical ways to show their devotion to their God. 
 Silly little mortals, trying to gain his favour with dead animals and trinkets, trying to gain his favour. He already gave them a way to cheat death, all they have to do is grab a totem. Why do they want another?
 They have all they need to survive. He painstakingly carved those totems. He will not give too much of himself.
 (lord foolish please my mother is gone i want her back lord foolish you can bring my husband back lord foolish fix this fix her i know you can)
 So he ignores the animal sacrifices and the pretty trinkets offered to him in exchange for reviving a daughter, a son, a wife, a husband. He cannot revive the long dead, he learned that a long time ago.
 The only real bearable one in the village is the child, and he doesn't even think the child knows what he is the God of, really, which is odd considering the inordinate amount of statues in the town. Whenever the child prays to Foolish, it's never about a dead loved one or the sea, it's always about what the child did that day. Foolish feels more like a diary than a God in those moments.
 And at least that's interesting
 (mister foolish i learned how to spell flower the other day f-l-o-u-u-e-r mister foolish i saw a dead cat on the side of the road the other day)
 (mister foolish are you ever lonely)
 The humans grow more and more frustrated with his complete and utter radio silence, and while he's out their festivals to him grow more and more complex, the animals growing bigger, rarer, more impressive.
 (i offer you this ender dragon egg this elytra this nether star this emerald ore this music disc)
 He's not gonna lie; the person who built that beautiful cottage had him for a solid minute.
 But he's not really paying attention to any of that; he's not the only God to have festivals and sacrifices in his name. Definitely not gonna be the last.
 (what do we have to do to bring back our loved ones?)
 He's just happy to build.
 Bargaining is a stage of grief, but so is acceptance, and they must learn to accept this.
 (except their not accepting it, the town is just growing angrier, more desperate, going bigger and bigger, hunting animals around them to extinction.)
 The first time they kill a human, he's pretty sure it's an accident. An old man, long past his time, probably just died from shock or disease.
 They put his body on the altar and offer him up to him, not to revive but as a sacrifice. He arrives, cloaked in illusions as thick as the fog around the town. He still sees Death though, watching sedately from where she's sitting on the wall, her angel beside her.
 They're gone in the next moment.
 The town never buries the old man, keeps him on the altar, and, after three days, Foolish takes him, takes him far away to an old field and buries him there.
 (the leader of the town finds the missing body and smiles. their god has accepted their gift)
 He hopes it's a one time thing
 (because what did they do to that man how could they these humans these ants small and painfully easy to kill but flocking together working together how could they turn on one of their own)
 (because what would he do then?)
 (after the man disappears from the altar, the child prays to him again, telling him the man's name, and how he once stopped the child from getting a rash from poisonous flowers. he liked violets the child tells him)
 (maybe the child really does know what he's the god of. maybe the child's just lonely.)
 He doesn't know what exactly triggered it. Maybe they saw the child trying to make conversation with a God instead of praying to one. Maybe the child, in the way all children are, said something controversial, maybe about the man who was left on the altar to rot.
 Maybe, maybe, maybe.
 He isn't there when the child is dragged out onto the streets, and dumped at the feet of the altar in front of the whole town, trembling and shaking. And the child is a child but is no fool, has seen the sacrifices has seen what has happened, and does what any scared child will do-try to run.
 And at the same time the child tried to back away, the leader swung his sword, and the whole town watched as the child screamed, eyes bloodied and slashed from the blade. 
 (he had been aiming for the neck)
 (not a fighter, that leader)
 "A life for a life!" The leader exclaimed and swung again.
 (the child collapsed on the floor and the crowd pressed in, eager to watch as they choked and gagged on the blood spilling out of their torn open throat, arms scrabbling into the ground like a beetle like a cockroach like an ant whose colony had turned on it)
 And- and then-
 And at the same time the child tried to back away and the leader swung his sword, the child had had one last panicked, desperate thought.
 (mister foolish, they're gonna kill me)
 And at the same time-
 And at the same time the leader slit the child's throat, a golden clawed hand grabbed him by his.
 "So yeah" Foolish says. "Cults are, like, the worst."
 Ranboo and Tubbo continue to stare at him. "Uh" Ranboo says, then promptly stops talking.
 "Did you . . kill them?" 
 He nods, bouncing on his feet a little. "Yeah" he smiles "good times."
 The two teenagers both look like they don't know what to do with that.
 "Well, at least they deserved it" Tubbo offers up attentively, and Ranboo nods
 "Can't believe they executed a child. Nobody deserves to die like that" Ranboo mutters and Tubbo winces beside him.
 "Y-yeah" Tubbo agrees nervously, twining his hands together "that poor kid. Hope it was peaceful."
 Foolish blinks at them. "Wait, what?" Then he replays their entire conversation and laughs.
 "Laughing at a kid's death" Ranboo notes, before turning to Tubbo "why are we letting him near Michael again."
 "No, no" Foolish waves his hands "you misunderstood me; the child didn't die."
 "You guys do remember I'm the God of Undying, right?" He raises an eyebrow at them both. "I healed the kid's neck wound right up." Ranboo just blinks at him in that slightly unsettling way that only an enderman can do.
 "I thought you didn't revive people personally."
 Foolish glances outside, past the both of them. "This was different" he says "this was-"
 (my fault my fault i turned a blind eye i could have stopped this sooner you choked and gagged and cried out for anyone to save you but in the end the motivation for your murder had to step in.)
 "-an exception."
 "Good for you!" Tubbo cheers, shooting his hands in the air vehemently "the whole stinking town is gone and you and the child lived!"
 Foolish makes a noise in the back of his throat. "Except the other towns had heard about the towns rituals. And it began to spread."
 Tubbo's hands drop. "Oh."
 "Yeah" he agrees "oh. But the worst part was the damage done to the child."
 "Let me guess" Ranboo says, dry as Egypt. "Traumatised?"
 "To put it mildly."
 (the child had turned blind eyes towards him, and when he had reached out to grasp the pudgy hand it had recoiled, the small body curling up away from him and he had burned)
 (the child hadn't seen or felt the tsunami that destroyed the entire town. but the screams- they had ears)
 "But uh" he shifts awkwardly from foot to foot "not just that. I'm the God of Undying, so I can heal other's mortal injuries."
 A long pause.
 "Their mortal injuries" he repeats.
 "Oh!" Tubbo jerks back "oh God! The child's eyes-"
 "I healed them" he says, then winces "tried to heal them" he corrects. Better. "But uh, because they weren't fatal they weren't exactly, uh, restored."
 (the mirror is broken and the cracks will show even when it's put back together and you'll never see the same way again my fault my fault i'm sorry i'm so so so sorry)
(this is all i can give you i am so sorry only child lonely child i cant take all you pain away but i promise you here and now you will be lonely no more)
"Damn." The closest Ranboo will ever get to a swear.
 "It gets worse" Foolish chirps "the other towns found out that a child had been blessed by the Totem God himself. Were very interested in what exactly this child could do."
 A long pause.
 Then. "Cults" Ranboo says faintly.
 "Cults" Foolish agrees cheerfully, thinking of a child screaming in agony with bloodstained eyes and a gashed throat as others looked on, indifferent.
 Cults Foolish thinks grimly as that same child is dragged up to be executed by the Eggpire.
72 notes · View notes
beskarberry · 3 years
Text
Valkyrie
Tumblr media
Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 4
(The Mandalorian x f!reader)
“What... did you... do?”  You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.
“Antidote?There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!”
Rating: Explicit
Word count: 7.8k
Content warnings: Canon-typical violence, SEX POLLEN + rough sex, oral sex (m receiving) and kink talk (not gonna list all of them but they’re all very common.) There’s another filk song reference in this one that I’ll link in the replies.
A/N: VERY IMPORTANT TAG! The bounty uses she/her pronouns so if girl on girl violence makes you squeamish please read ahead with caution! Also know that I >>do not<< use any gender-specific slurs (b*tch, c*nt, etc.)
<-Previous Next->
Everything. Was. Purple.
Purple! The grass, the sky, the trees, if you could call them that. The pulsating, gelatinous towers that spiraled into the sky were definitely alive, but you weren’t sure if ‘tree’ was a fitting word for them. Their branches were long and hanging, weighed down by some kind of berry or fruit that glowed with teal streaks. Your next bounty was on a habitable moon orbiting an enormous gas giant that took up the entire skyline. It was lush with vegetation and sparsely populated, a perfect hideout for an Ardennian.
The Razor Crest was parked in a meadow of lavender grass, though once again you questioned your choice of words, watching the way the long wet leaves wiggled in the breeze. You breathed deep, letting the rich, humid air fill your lungs while your traveling companions followed behind you down the old ship’s ramp. Baby beans trotted right past you on stubby legs, picking things up off the ground that he probably shouldn’t be putting in his mouth, but was too sneaky for you to stop him from doing so. You heard the Crest’s access door shut, and turned to see Mando eagerly trotting along to join you.
No, not ‘Mando’... Din. Mr. Mystery finally had a name, though you were still conflicted about using it. The man had spilled so many secrets into you in such a short amount of time that the butterflies in your stomach were breeding many-legged worms. Squirming, creeping things that quickly metamorphosized back into their illustrious true selves, and you weren’t sure which part of their cycle was making you more nauseous. But they were your secrets to keep, your heart wearing his name like a locket; safely hidden where nobody but you could see.
You had slid the heavy beskar bucket back up the ladder to him while he stayed in the dark of the cockpit, the knowledge of his facial features still kept by your hands alone. The pair of you had then stood close together at the armory, him with his helmet back where it belonged and you with your bright eyed mask protecting your crown. At the equipment cache he couldn’t stop talking, pointing out and picking up a variety of weapons and traps that would work particularly well for this simian quarry. Everything had a story, and he told you all about the bounties he had pulled trophies off of, or things he had gotten as rewards for helping someone else. He’s giddy. You could only listen along as he prattled away, handing you grapple after snare until you had to start putting things back in the armory, just so you could have your hands free again.
Hands. Every time he gave you another tool of the trade to add to your ever-growing inventory his hands brushed somewhere on you. Leather tipped fingers glancing quickly on your wrist, a lingering palm on your shoulder; each fleeting touch lasting just slightly longer than the last. He was struggling to keep his hands off of you, reluctant to give up the intimacy you had both been working at in the void-black darkness of the flight deck before atmospheric reentry tore you both apart. What other prayers of devotion could he pour into you, if you’d just had a little more time? ‘You belong to them, that is The Way’. The oath he had made to you was followed coldly in your mind by another string of words, ‘I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian’.
You couldn’t think about all the words that you still needed to unpack, it was hunting time. The six-limbed simian was wanted for, checks puck notes, chemical warfare. She had blasted her way to the Guild’s Most Wanted list by lobbing incendiary bombs and poison gas grenades through a meeting of outer rim parliament, and the price on her head might have been higher than yours. The bounty puck specifically stated she was to be taken alive. Super. The droid-face mask wasn’t going to be much protection for your lungs, but it might at least keep your eyes safe. You took time to pack extra bacta and some quality rations, plus one of your new bantha-wool blankets. You woke up that morning on Tatooine, and the voice of your tortured circadian rhythm wondered if you would be sleeping rugged tonight somewhere on this heliotropic hellscape.
A bounty fob blinked lazily from the larger hunter’s belt, indicating that the quarry was on-world, but not close enough to catch. The three of you would have some walking to do. The child tried to make friends with every wiggly thing, running on his short little legs from fern to fern, hunting for treats. The little beastie’s adopted father chased him through the grass, trying, and failing, to keep him from getting into trouble. The sight of the mighty metal man being defeated so easily by a baby made you laugh, and the sound of your melodic giggles drew his attention.
“What are you laughing at?”
Oh no, I’ve been caught!  “I’m laughing at you, rust bucket! The scariest person here isn’t either of us, it’s him!” You pointed to where the child was tearing through the reeds after some kind of amphibian, and started laughing harder when Mando cursed and flew after his impish son. The rowdy child had a frog-like creature hanging from his mouth that vanished the second his dad tried to pull it away.
“Stop eating things you find on the ground!” The baby only squealed at the scolding, earning himself a grumpy, papa-patented sigh. Mando picked up the potato-sack of a child and dumped him unceremoniously into the hover-crib that floated along behind. “You can get back out when you learn your lesson! I don’t want you to get sick.” The baby made huge, sad eyes up at his dad, but Mando turned away quickly to avoid their hypnotic powers. You were doing your best to hide your giggles, covering the part of your mask where your mouth was, as if that would help. The Mandalorian strode up to you with a swagger. “Oh, you think that’s funny, cyar’ika?”
“You don’t?” You caught your reflection in the black gloss of his visor as he sauntered up to you, and your bug-eyed doppelganger only made you laugh more. A wall of beskar stood in front of you, eyeing you with slow tilts of his helmet while you got it all out of your system. When your breaths returned to normal you looked down at your hands and found that they had made friends. You had reached out for him without even thinking, and you were a little embarrassed that they had gravitated to him so naturally. He squeezed your hands gently before letting them return to you, and you heard the songs of star-lost sailors whispering in the back of your mind. The nights are long between the stars, and lonely, too, for me. I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.
“Night’s coming fast, we should keep moving.” Hunting mode reactivated, your companion started towards the undulating wilderness. He wasn’t wrong, within a few hours the massive planet that hung above you drifted out of view, replaced with a sea of glittering stars. The foliage around you glowed with otherworldly colors, teals and violets splattering their dense leaves and curling down their jelly trunks. Their loveliness made it easy to distract yourself from the task at hand, your eyes chasing the occasional yellow and red flashes that blinked from insects high in the branches. Ahead of you a large old tree had fallen over, and between its trunk and its upturned roots the spot was easily defensible.
Mando busied himself with clearing squishy sticks and leaves from the area to make a campsite while you looked for something to start a fire with. Nothing looked burnable, everything had a gooey, wet consistency, but some dead leaves under the log were dried out. They would have to do. You made them into a neat pile and pushed some rocks in a circle around them for safety, now you would just need a light.
“Hey, tinman, I need some heat!” He followed your pointing finger with his helmet and waltzed over to you, happy to be of assistance. He started up his wrist mounted flamethrower and used the pilot light to set the tinder ablaze. Not even fire could escape the overwhelming purpleness of the estranged moon as the blaze kicked up a bright indigo with a low heat. You got to work getting dinner around, pulling savory Tatooine treats out of your pack, pushing some of them towards the heat source so they would be warm. At the bottom of your bag you found some soft, squashed thing, and pulled the remains of breakfast out into the light. It was mashed, but it was still probably edible. “Mando, you never ate your breakfast.”
“What?” He looked at the sad excuse for a meal that you were offering him, eyeing it with curiosity. “You got me breakfast?”
“Yes? I told you that I would, though I guess it’s dinner now. Here.” You waved it at him so he would get the hint, and he took it carefully from you with timid hands.
“T-thank you. You’re very kind.”
“And don’t you forget it!” You whooped with overwhelming confidence, but the sweet words made you blush under your mask. Before he could turn and leave the safety of the fire to find a private eating area you reached for his hand again, pulling the armored paw to your forehead and knocking it softly against your mask. Kov'nynir. A wistful sigh escaped his modulator, and you knew the act of affection was well received. He bent himself down to where you sat at the fire and pressed his own forehead against yours, rumbling with contentment. The gentle sound made your heart swell, such a simple gesture that carried so much meaning. A bounty hunter’s life was fast and dangerous, why should finding companionship be any different?
You pushed your heads together just a little harder before he pulled himself away from you to go eat. You lifted your own dinner and the baby’s from the hearth, poking at it with your fingers to make sure it wasn’t too hot for Mr. Green Beans to eat. The child took it from you eagerly, content in his protective pram and making gross little noises while he ate. The food tin you had was much better than day one’s menu: bantha meat and Tusken hardtack with a side of more mystery mush. Your partner chose to take his meal elsewhere, fading into the darkness behind the fallen log where he could remove his helmet and eat in peace. Someday he might make more sense to you. The clank! of an empty food tin hitting the ground brought your attention back to your campsite buddy, the baby having thrown his clean plate at you.
“What’s wrong, booger? You bored? Alright.” There was a tiny bit of energy still left in your bones, and what better way to spend it than entertaining your precious audience. You pulled yourself to your feet, taking a moment to dust the spores from your pants and pull your backpack on before launching into song.
“When we pulled into Naboo’s Port in need of R&R,
The crew set out investigating every joint and bar.
We had high expectations of their hospitality,
But found too late it wasn't geared for spacers such as we!”
“And we're banned from Naboo, everyone!
Banned from Naboo, just for having a little fun!
We spent a jolly shore leave there for just three days or four,
But Naboo doesn't want us anymore!”
Green baby hands tried their best to clap in time with your sailor song, accompanied by adorable cooing noises while he tried to sing along. Your rambunctiousness summoned Mando back over to the fire, and he sat down on a large rock next to his foundling, watching you through his visor as you danced around the fire with flailing limbs.
“Our Engineer would yield to none at putting down the brew;
She outdrank seven space marines and a demolition crew!
The Navigator didn't win, but he out-drank almost all,
And now they've got a shuttlecraft on the roof of City Hall!”
You ran through the chorus again, taking a second to notice that tinman was tapping his foot to the beat along with you. You wondered briefly if they ever sang on Mandalore. You took a deep breath to continue-
“-KABOOM-!”
The fireside exploded just meters from your spinning dance, and you were hauled backwards to safety by your oathsworn protector,along with his foundling, and ushered towards the safety of the trees.
“-BOOM! Ba-BOOM! KERPLOW-!”
Trees and plants exploded on either side of you as you ran through the luminous dark. The Ardennian! Neither of you had been paying attention to the bounty fob, blinking fast and red under his cloak. Above you the sound of something swinging through the branches caught your ear, and you pulled your blaster and fired behind you.
“Bwahaha! Missed me missed me now you gotta kiss me, two-arms!” You couldn’t see her, but her taunts gave you a better idea of her position, firing several more shots towards their source. You knew you had to take her alive, but that didn’t mean intact.
“Go go go!” Mando was at your back, doing his best human shield impression while he hurried you away from the bombardment, the child’s bulky pram tucked uncomfortably under one arm. Your flight through the forest was haunted with vicious cackling and the sound of serene foliage being obliterated by the explosives that rained down around you, choking you with incendiary fumes.
A clearing materialized ahead, and the three of you rushed out from under the unmerciful trees. When you had gotten far enough from the tree line you both turned your eyes to the canopy.
“There!” Picking up her heat signature on his visor’s infrared sensors, he pointed to your target, his other arm still occupied with protecting the foundling. You grabbed the barrel of the pulse rife that was still slung over his shoulder, aimed, and fired. The ball of electricity arced from your little trio and collided with the trees, the sound of pained screams and crashes followed the wounded pyromaniac as she fell hard to the ground. Bullseye.
”Stay here, Mando, I got this! Keep him safe!” You stormed into the woods after the sounds of distress, snare at the ready to take the bounty alive. You were angry, rage powering your stride as you chased after her like a Corellian tracking hound. Angry that your sweet moment had been ruined, angry that she’d put the foundling in danger, angry that your partner had been pulled from the comfort of the fire to fulfill his duties as guardian. You sprang over roots and fallen branches, catching the sight of movement where the Ardennian was making a run for it. 
“Oh no you don’t! Get back here!”  Your words boiled with so much fury that they almost weren’t your own. Balls of fire exploded around you in a last ditch effort by the primate to kill you first. You dropped a knee into the loamy soil to steady your shot.
Woosh! The net sailed past her by mere inches, and you flew to your feet to begin the chase again.
“Ha! Grow some more arms and maybe you’ll have better aim!”  Fire erupted around you again, but the flames that seared at your eyes came from inside, burning with fuel siphoned from your heart. You took another shot.
Woosh! Miss! FUCK. You had one shot left on the snare-slinger, and you had to make it count. The trees were thinner here, how long had you been running? The simian was struggling to get away now, the long slimy branches too far apart to swing through. Behind you the sound of thunderous armored boots told you that Mando was hot on your trail, and you were glad to have the back up even though you had specifically told him to stay put. Nobody listens in this crew. Something green and gaseous poofed next to you, and the terms of the bounty puck came back to you clear as day: chemical warfare. The Ardennian was out of bombs and had switched to gas canisters, hurling a variety of brightly colored poisons at your face. Third time’s the charm.
Woosh! The net flew true, tangling in the many limbs of the fleeing quarry and throwing her to the ground. Gotcha! You bore down on her as brightly glowing vials sailed over your head, landing on something behind you with a crash! You were on her in an instant, shoving a blaster in her face.
“You’re done, chuckles! It’s over!” The fear in her eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared when she glanced back behind you.
“Ha! I don’t think so, stinky. You’re gonna have yer hands too full with that to deal with little old me.” You followed her gaze, and froze from the ice crystalizing in your veins. Mando stood a ways back, still as a statue. Bright neon pink goo slimed its way down his helmet and dripped onto his chest plate. You turned on the Ardennian again.
“What... did you... do?”  You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.
“Antidote? There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!” She was howling with laughter in your grasp, and the sound of her mirth was like nails on chalkboard to your ears. You practically threw her to the ground, running back to your incapacitated partner. He hadn’t moved a muscle.
“Mando! Hey hey can you hear me? Tell me what’s wrong!” The glowing pink slime was still on his helmet, and you hunted for something to wipe it off with. The closest thing was his cloak, so you reached for it and went to clean the pretty pink sludge from his helmet when an armored claw shot up and caught your wrist. The action startled you, but you were happy to see him still able to move. “Mando? You ok?” Slowly, with almost robotic precision, he turned his gaze to you.
“Cyar...’ika....?” His words were long and labored, the strain of them sending a chill through your bones.
“Yes! It’s me, Mando. I’m right here, I’m gonna get you taken care of. I- I’ll find some bacta or-” Your words were cut off by another wicked claw on your shoulder.
“So... Beautiful...”  The lustful words made the gears in your head grind to a halt. Really? Right now?
“Ok great, glad to see you’re fine, now can we get back to hunt-” He cut you off with a hand at your throat.
“Beautiful.. and mouthy. So... fucking... mouthy.” A leather tipped hand snaked up your neck to your lips, grabbing at your jaw and pushing a thumb in past your teeth. You tried to spit him out but his other hand latched on to the back of your skull. “I’m going to put that mouth to good use, mesh’la.”  Your mask was tossed to the ground, and the ‘good luck’ the Ardennian had wished you now made sense. Whatever was oozing down the front of his helmet was driving him into an uncontrolled sexual frenzy, and you were the sole outlet for all his desires.
“Mando! -Blech-! Man- Din!” He stopped trying to get down your throat at the sound of his own name, hearing it for the first time from your lips. “Din! We don’t have time for this right now! Get a grip!” Oh, but he already had a grip, and it was tightening on your scalp.
“That’s right, sweetheart, say my name.”  The command dripped from his modulator the same way the poison dripped down his face, and he started walking you backwards by the hair until you bumped against a squishy tree. The change of emotion from rage to fear to confusion made your head spin, and the new contending feeling of heat building in your guts was making itself known.
“Knock it off! Fucking hell, she’s going to get away if we don’t do something right now! ”
“Let her. You’re the only one I want.” The weight of his arms on your neck and shoulders became too much, and the man who you had shared a such a sweet moment with not too long ago was now forcing you to your knees. You dropped to a kneel, and your face was hard pressed up against the solid bulge that was trying to rip its way out of his pants. He took only a second to free himself, pushing his throbbing cock against your teeth. “Open wide.”
You wished you were meeting with mini-mando under better circumstances, but if getting him off would get you back to the hunt, you were happy to help. The taste of him on your tongue sent electricity through your body, spooling up fresh heat between your own legs. Above you Mando was making deep, guttural groans as you took his cock all the way to the back of your throat, wrapping a fist around where you couldn’t reach without gagging. You glanced around his leg to where you could see the hover-crib, floating a good distance away with the shield closed tight. Good, he doesn’t need to see this. A swift thrust brought your attention back to where it was demanded.
“That’s a good girl, take it all in. Let me make a mess of that pretty little mouth of yours.” He had a death grip on the back of your hair and the side of your jaw, pushing up to keep you open enough to take his length. Inside you were swirling your tongue around the tip every time it slid past, making sultry praises flood from his modulator. Most of the words were garbled, raunchy and alien, probably Mando’a. Spit leaked from the sides of your mouth, making good on his word to make a mess of you. The claws in your hair pulled tight, forcing your nose into the tuft of soft hair at his base so he could pump your throat full of cum without you escaping. “Ahh~! That’s it, mesh’la, drink it all down.”
The hot spunk made you choke and gag, tears rushing to your eyes, but you still swallowed as best you could. When he finally let you pull away you gasped for air, coughing on the ground at his feet.
“There! *cough!* is that... -blech-, better? Can you hunt now? Are you done?” The potionmaster was probably long gone, you couldn’t hear her fucking cackling anymore.
“Cyar’ika, we’re not done until I say we’re done.” The spear at your cheek was still hard as beskar, ready for round two. The armored man yanked you to your feet, shoving you face first towards the nearest tree. The tree’s flesh was soft and squishy, a fact you would be grateful for soon enough. Your hips were pulled backwards, and a buzzing sound told you he had pulled a vibroblade from his belt, stabbing under your pants’ edge and pulling down the crack of your ass until your clothes were cut away; leaving just the legs and your boots to protect you. The cold air hitting your cunt gave away your arousal, and he zoned in on it like a falcon, pressing still-gloved fingers to your wet slit. The roughness of the leather invading you made you cry out and your knees buckle, squirming under the intrusion of one finger, then two; pumping in and out of you to stoke your flame.
“You’re so pretty. So fucking pretty, and strong. I’m gonna lose myself in you, fierce little thing, and I never want to be found.” His hands ripped away from your swollen cunt, and the head of his cock was pressed to its lips. Both of you made delicious, filthy noises as he buried himself to the hilt, the slick of his own cum making a wonderful lube. “Fuuuuuck, you’re hot inside, lovely girl. My cock was made just for you.” He barely made it a few inches out of you before he was slamming back into you again. The force of him behind you smashed you face into the soft, forgiving tree, though you wished you could find somewhere for your hands to grab hold. He fucked you like a man possessed, and you were sure there would be bruises on your hips and thighs when he was finished.
His mouth ran like surging lava. “Fucking.. Maker... beautiful girl, beautiful hunter! Hunter-killer! I knew you would be a challenge to hunt, but I never thought you would be the one to capture me! You’re a work of art on the killing field! Mmph! You are mine and I’m going to fill your belly with my warriors ‘til you’re fit to burst. They’ll be so ferocious! Born with daggers in their teeth.” Vulgar words between thrusts made your entire body hot with a mix of embarrassment and lust. You might never know if the neon goo had given him the desire to breed you, or if he adored you so much that he wanted more of you to care for, but you did know your contraceptive implant would be having none of it either way. Still, his damning words flowed. “Nobody will ever put their hands on you again but me. I’ll give you everything you desire, cyar’ika, anything you ask for will be yours. I’ll bring the stars down from the sky if you ask me to! I- I’ll- I’m gonna...”
The Mandalorian stilled behind you, twitching as his cock spilled into you and ran hot down your thighs. His breaths were gasping, broken and desperate for air. His fingers digging into the soft skin on your hips would leave their mark for sure, and though he’d done a fantastic job of scrambling your insides you still felt warmth in your chest. Even in his poisoned, delirious state of mind, all of his thoughts were of you alone. The grip on your ass loosened, and the sound of a heavy thud hitting the ground told you he had fallen down into the soft purple grass. You struggled to peel your face from the jelly tree, standing like a newborn fawn on shaky legs. The bright pink streak on his helmet had lost all its glow, and your human rust-bucket was slumped over on his side, still as the grave. Not again, fucksake. You clambered over to him, digging under his cloak with your hands until you found his pulse. Still alive.
“Alright Mando, fucking stay here this time like I told you to.” You glanced around the meadow, but the Ardennian was nowhere to be found. Fuck! All that work for nothing. You groaned, looking down at what was left of your pants. You checked all the pockets, finding your lucky krayt teeth and a bacta patch before kicking the ruined fabric off over your boots. You dropped down to the spent form of your comrade, tilting his helmet up and slapping the bacta patch on one of the hickies you had left there a few days ago. You took a moment to stuff the teeth into one of his many pouches since you no longer had pockets of your own. With your ass in the wind you made your way over to the floating pram to check on your tiny pal. “Hey beans, you doing ok? Your dad and I were just having a little-” you spun the cradle around. Empty.
“No! Fuck! Fuck fuck FUCK!” The bounty had made off with Din’s infant son, your little buddy! You couldn’t stop the fear that dried your throat and brought tears to your eyes. Get a hold of yourself! Find him! NOW! Familiar rage welled up behind your eyes, and you raced back over to your unconscious guardian, still laying in the dirt and making it extra difficult to untangle the pulse rifle still slung over his back. Your hunting instincts were on high alert, and the sound of shouting caught your ears. “I’m gonna get him back, Din! Just... just fucking stay here!”
You tore off after the noise, every horrible scenario running through your head at once. Would she steal him? Would she hurt him? Would she kill him? Rage flared hot in your chest and threatened to burn you alive, your feverish skin icy with sweat. Wet leaves slapped past your bare knees so fast that their thin edges left vicious paper cuts. You didn’t care, nothing else mattered but the foundling. The sound of shouting grew louder, and you thundered though the trees to another clearing by a narrow wine-dark stream. 
“Help! This thing’s got me! Get me down, please! Get it away from me!” The simian terror was hanging in the air ahead of you. No, not hanging, floating. She was thrashing her arms, but all that did was slowly spin her in place. The sight was magical, but more important was the safety of child. On the ground near her, he stood with one fat little paw in the air, pointing at his abductor and concentrating with all his might. You didn’t know how he had escaped, or what the actual fuck he was doing, but you didn’t hesitate. You pulled the pulse rifle from your back and fired, once, twice, three times until her limp body was hanging in the air, knocked out cold. Or dead.
Baby beans crumpled to the ground, and the Ardennian followed suit, the ugly noise she made when she hit the ground brought a wicked smile to your cheeks. The baby’s little eyes were bleary and tired under his big droopy ears, and you scooped him carefully up off the ground to pull him in for a good, strong hug.
“Did you get the mean lady, sweetie? Good job! I don’t know what the fuck you did but hey, no questions asked, alright? I’m just glad you’re ok.” He smiled up at you with his tiny toothy grin before conking out in your arms, leaning heavily against your chest. You set him back down on the ground, just long enough to tie that six limbed asshole up tight, using everything you still had above the waist to keep her captured. You tied her arms to her feet and slung her limp body over you like a rucksack, then picked the foundling back up. With your bounty, baby, and bare ass you started the hike back to your fallen man.
Mando still laid where you had left him on his side, and you were annoyed to realize that, out of everybody involved, you were the only one left awake. Fantastic. You returned the baby to his floating bucket, pulling it closer to the pair of you this time, and dumped the Ardennian in the dirt. There was no way you could maneuver three bodies at once, somebody was going to have to get up and walk.
“Mando! Mando get up, we gotta go.” The man in question didn’t budge, soft, muffled snores your only response. You tried everything you could think of, pulling on his hands and legs and shouting, anything to wake his ass up. You knocked on his helmet, “Ground control to Major Mando, time to get up! Rise and shine, bucket boy!” Nothing, he was going to have to sleep the after-effects of the potion off, so he was staying right where he was.
You had no idea how far you had gotten from the campsite, and the cold night air on your bare booty made you remember your half-nakedness. On the ground scattered around the pile of living beskar was your backpack and the remains of your pants, along with the rest of your trap gear. Start packing more clothes. You went for the gear first, pulling another set of cuffs and a good strong rope out, and added a few more knots to the half-dead quarry so she wouldn’t be pulling any bullshit in the night. The backpack still had the bantha-wool blanket wrapped up tight, and you tied it around yourself like a skirt. Better than nothing.
Kneeling on the ground next to your Mandalorian, you cleared yourself a space to sit down, taking an extra second to make sure all his bits were tucked back out of view. You leaned back against the crook of his hips, feeling the slow rise and fall of his belly at your back. You were so tired, how many times had you been on the run in the last cycle alone? Your body desperately craved sleep, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the bounty. Anger crept its way back into your eyes again, and you wanted to take it out on her, channel your inner rancor. No, she’s already lost. Go to sleep.
But the merciful tug of sleep didn’t come, and when you realized why you felt foolish. The child’s pram was on the ground where you had pushed it next to his fathers’ armored head. He was sleeping like a little prince, and didn’t move at all when you pulled him out of the crib. When he was situated in your arms you pulled Mando’s cloak around the three of you for extra warmth. Sitting upright was a horrible way to sleep, but with the baby safely in your arms and a blaster at your side, you were able to catch a handful of winks.
You woke up many times that night, worried that something might happen to your baby or your partner, and each time your eyes shot open you glared at the dark form in the grass; though not once did it move. Still, you didn’t trust that you were safe, and only when the rim of the planet that dominated the sky drifted over the horizon could you actually keep your eyes closed. But the blissful comfort of real sleep was torn from you by your lounge chair trying to get up on its own. The rush from trying to sit up too fast knocked Mando right back down on his back, and his hands went to his armored temples to try to stop the world from spinning.
“What...where am... where’s....” He shot up like a bolt of lightning “WHERE’S MY SON?!”
“Right here!” You turned yourself to show the bug-eyed bundle to his father, letting him see that the child was safe. Mando wrapped his arms around you and the child, and you could hear his quick, shuddering breaths coming out from under the helmet. The hug was tight, a comforting fortress around your shoulders.
“Are you ok? What happened? Why are we in the grass? Where’s the bounty? Did she get away?” His questions gushed like a river, urgent and frightened. You pointed at where the Ardennian was still on the ground, far enough away that she was out of earshot. She was awake now, but still immobilized. Her eyes were fixed on you, and you could see the edges of her mouth turning upwards into a snarl to bare her teeth. Din’s hands were all over you, inspecting you for damage, and his breath caught in his throat when he reached your waist. Big, ugly red and purple fingerprints were swelling up between the scrapes on your skin, and he pushed the edge of your makeshift skirt down to follow their horrifying trail; they were everywhere.
“Who did this to you?”  The volcano behind the beskar threatened to erupt with molten malevolence, “Did she do this to you?”
“No Mando,” you sighed, a little hurt that he didn’t remember. “You did.” The wall of metal armor went stiff as a rail, his visor locked on your eyes, looking for the truth. But the truth was right in front of him, and he couldn’t accept it.
“What? N-no.. I would never... I could never hurt you, cyar’ika! Please... please tell me that I didn’t do this.” His fingers ghosted over your marks, but never touched them, his hands afraid of dealing more damage to your lovely skin. “I-I couldn’t have... I’m... I’m so sorr-” You cut him off with a hand on his helmet where his mouth might be.
“It’s not your fault, you were poisoned. I’m just glad you’re alive, Din.” The sound of his own name made his shoulders droop and his hands come up cradle your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his visor, the closeness of the distraught hunter making you flustered, so you tried to crack a joke. “I’m just glad you wanted to fuck me instead of the Ardennian.” The way his helmet snapped backwards made you realize he didn’t remember that part either. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I took it like a champ! You’re gonna have to do better than bruises to hurt this mighty hunter!” Your attempted words of comfort didn’t seem to work, and he pulled you and the wiggly child back to his chest in a world-erasing hug.
“Please just tell me you know I wouldn’t do this to you on purpose, I never want to hurt you again. Please.”
“Mando! I’m fine, really.” He held your head firmly, the blackness of the visor trying to bore though your very soul. You nodded in his grasp, “I know you didn’t, it’s alright, Din. I forgive you.” The force of his helmet knocking against your forehead almost made you see stars. His hands were wrapped around your head, holding you as close as he could in the intimate gesture of his people. You didn’t blame him at all for what happened, but it would be a while, if ever, before he could forgive himself.
“Oh isn’t that puke. Spare me the lovey-dovey crap and take me back to the Guild already! Buncha bucketheads.” You didn’t want to address the Ardennian that hollered at you from from the grass, but the beskar bucket turned on her in a heartbeat. He sprang to his feet in a flash, pulling the pulse rife from the ground and firing, stunning the target for the fourth time, fifth time, sixth, seventh.
He’s gonna kill her. You grabbed at his arm, demanding his attention “Mando, you got her, it’s over! It’s done.” Stance wide and chest heaving, the barrel of the long rifle stayed trained on the bounty for what seemed like an eternity before being lowered back to the ground. “Good, good, see, everyone’s ok. Let’s get back to the Crest and get out of here, sound like a plan?” He nodded, still watching the limp-again simian for signs of movement. When he was sure there wouldn’t be any more argument he stalked over to the quarry and slung her over his shoulder, ready to make the long march back to the ship. You set the baby back in his pram so you could take a second to grab everything off the ground, making sure you had your pack and your mask, and followed Mando back through the woods.
After hours of silent hiking, the Razor Crest came into view, and you had never been so happy to see the old girl, pretty as a plum in the violet haze. Once everyone was aboard, the fog of the carbonite chamber filled the tiny cabin to the brim, and left a new dark block in its wake. The Ardennian’s body was limp, though thankfully still alive; but the mischievous sneer couldn’t be erased so easily. You took a deep breath, sighing with relief that this hunt was over. Two down, one to go. Then Nevarro.
Your Mandalorian hadn’t spoken to you the entire trek back to the ship, and he was distracting himself by placing all the weaponry back in their spots in the cabinet. He’s still upset with himself. You still wore the bantha-blanket skirt, and its soft edges swished around your ankles. Gently you placed your hand on his shoulder, and he jumped violently under your touch as he was brought back to the present.
“You know I’m not mad at you, right?” He didn’t meet your eyes, but his hands stopped fussing with the armory. “Really, Din, I don’t blame you at all. I’m ok.” You tugged on his waist, bidding him to turn and face you, but still he couldn’t lift his eyes from the floor. You ran your hands from his shoulders down his chest, trying to bring him comfort with your touch, but when you saw his utility belt you remembered what was in his pockets. A flashbulb of an idea lit up in your skull, and clear as day the reason for your frivolous purchase on Tatooine made itself known. “You know what, I’m so not-mad at you that I have a present for you.” You grabbed his belt to dig through the pouches, but strong hands shot up to carefully take your wrists.
“Mesh’la no! Not after.. not after I- I can’t. I don’t deserve your affections.” Your eyes met his visor, its gaze no longer staring down at the floor and instead watching you with intensity. A smile broke it’s way out past your teeth, followed by a knowing laugh.
“No, that’s not what I meant, good thought though. No, Mand-...Din. Din, I have a gift for you.”  He hesitated to release your arms, but when you were free of his delicate hold you went back to the pockets on his belt and pulled the opalized krayt teeth from one of the pouches. Your companion’s visor followed the glittering treasures as they were brought into the light, and you wished you could see his bewildered face under the beskar. You handed them to him, and he carefully turned them over in his palm, letting the fossils catch the light and revealing their intricate patterns. His helmet tilted slowly, baffled that such beautiful things could be pulled from anywhere on his body, but the way his beskar sent streaks of light over his armor gave you a fantastic new idea.
Taking the treasures back from him you unscrewed the button fasteners that protruded from their backs, revealing the small, strong magnets hidden underneath; and pressed them up to his helmet. The teeth fit perfectly in the recesses of his cheeks, like they had been made just for him; and though you knew hunters didn’t wear adornments, they still looked lovely. “I know you can’t keep them on, especially when we go hunt, but they still look nice on you. Now you get to be my lucky charm.” His soft leather fingertips rubbed gently at his cheeks, feeling the way the indents had been filled with the precious jewels. The ship didn’t have any mirrors, and he would have to see how the swirling pools of crystalized moonlight looked the next time he took his helmet off. 
Wordlessly he reached out for you, taking your face in his hands and pulling your head to his so he could press your foreheads together. You were becoming fond of the mysterious gesture, letting the butterflies in your stomach stretch their iridescent wings and fan contentment into your heart. You pushed back against him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders, locking his helmet to you. The whole galaxy could fly apart at the seams and you knew you would be alright, as long as you were right where you were, shielded in your Mandalorian’s embrace. I wonder if he feels the same. Tiny claws on your leg pulled your attention to the floor, and you were overjoyed to see big black orbs staring up at you.
“Little Beans! C’mere you, get in on this.” You hauled the foundling up between your bodies, letting him get a good look at you and his father. He chirped away, happily patting his papa’s fancy new trinkets, mesmerized by their shine. The little creature was full of energy, but you had been on your last leg for hours and you couldn’t stifle your yawns any longer. “Boys, I can’t keep this up anymore, you’re both awful cute, but I need sleep.”
“Of course, cyare, you’ve earned it.” Mando reluctantly stepped away from you and rolled out the Tusken sleeping mat that you had purchased. It was much thicker than the sheet originally on the little cot, and a hundred times more forgiving. You were comfy in seconds, and the warm embrace of sleep started pulling on your limbs and shutting your eyes. A different touch was on your arm, and you lazily opened one eye to see an armored hand pulling the bantha blankie up snug around you. Sweet, thoughtful murder-machine is what you had thought of him that first day, and the stupid pet name made you chuckle.
“What does that mean? That word, sire-eeka or sigh-air, they’re Mando’a, right?” You wouldn’t let sleep win you over without a fight, even if it was a fight you wanted to lose.
“Cyar’ika. The closest translation in Basic would be sweetheart, or darling.” Here we go again with Mando’a 101.
“Sweetheart, huh? Pfft... sounds like you like me or something. What’s the other word mean? You’ve never used it before now.” He sighed, long and tired, and you could see the foundling on his lap, still enthralled with the glittering opal on his fathers' metal face.
“I...I don’t know how to translate that one, but it’s more than cyar’ika, stronger, with more depth.” Something about his posture told you he might be lying, he knew exactly how to translate that word, but he wasn’t ready to tell it to you. He might, though, when he was ready.
“Alright, tin man, if you say so.” Your eyes finally let themselves close all the way, but even in the darkness behind your lids your devious hands still found their way to him, giving his hand a good squeeze. “Teach me more someday?”
“For you, ner cyare’se,” Your hand was pulled up from the blankets until the backs of your knuckles rested on the cool beskar of his brow, “I’d bring you the stars down from the sky, if you asked me to.”
<-Previous Next->
★Masterlist★
TAG LIST:
@mandoinevarro​ @mrsparknuts​ @cookiejuicedesu​ @kaermorons​ @ironbabey​
160 notes · View notes
rosietaeyongswife · 3 years
Text
black orphan |l.ty
genre: angst, smut mafia!taeyong, taeyonxreader, mafia au
tw: mentions of dead, murders, bad language, sex, mafia, mafia stuff
summary: being daugther of people who are hierarchy..well known around south korea isn’t very nice especially when they’re mafia and you killed them. u know what also isn’t easy? taking care of your younger sister.
authors note: pls if you have time it would be nice if you could read this it’s about lately thing with chinese idols. i explain there why some people should stop spreading hate on them and that it’s not really their fault.
Tumblr media
when you were child you didn’t understand what were your parents doing. you only knew you were rich. private schools. everything you want. most expensive clothes. everything. trip to hot country in middle of the winter? no problem. you and your sister minhee had everything. but your father and mother didn’t forget to teach you that you need to work for what you have.
  you were always amazed by your parents untill you were 16 years old and started to understand what they are doing for living. your parents were killers and drug sellers. you couldn’t belive it at first but with time you understood. that’s how your family is living. that’s how kim’s family is living. with time you learned about mafia life and your parents business. your father made sure that his daughter is going to take care of their business one day.. exactly - one day. one night your mother was standing in front of you with smile.
“y/n you are getting married.” she smiled wider. “he is son of rich man who can be needed.”
“what?”
 they wanted you to marry some 40 years old man and sell your younger sister because they would had only benefits. it was this time when it hits you.
 you are just 24 years old, are you really going to kill your parents? answer is yes. few weeks ago you poisoned your parents and made sure that everyone would think that their heart stopped. because of this you were now the owner of kim hierarchy. now you are boss. 
  you were sitting at conference room with jackson when someone called you.
“yes honey?” you smiled. “how much do you need? okay. take my credit card. yes it’s fine.”
 you hung up. it was minhee. she needed some money so you gave it to her.
“it was minhee right?”
“how do you know?”
“you always smile this way when you are talking with minhee.”
“damn jackson. you know me too well.” jackson chuckled. “so now. how is the deal with sagurako family?”
“i think they don’t want to pay us.”
 you could only smile.
“they really don’t take me seriously.” you sighed. “kill his son.”
“ok, how and when?”
“whatever. tell jaebum that it’s job for him.”
“yes sir.”
 you really weren’t in mood to games. you just want money and nothing else. is this that hard? pay what they own you? your parets exactly but they are dead so you should take money, right? they don’t matter same as their children. they have five kids so one less isn’t big deal. 
 when you were sitting by your desk you heard someone. it was yugyeom. you sighed and walked to the coridor.
“why the fuck are you so loud?”
“because bambam is stupid idiot.”
“what? no!” he shout. “he almost kill me.”
“whatever. be quiter.”
“y/n wait!” yugyeom looked in to your eyes. “someoe was following minhee when she was at school and then with her friends.”
 hearing this made you upset. you know that you have much more enemies than friends but you had hope that minhee isn’t going to be part of their hit list. 
“bambam take me home i need to talk with her.”
“what are you going to do?” yugyeom was looking at you confused. he knows very well that you don’t play games. “are you going to kill somebody again?”
“ew no. she is going to have home school. ask youngjae or mark to hire someone ok?”
“yes.”
 your sister safety is your priority. she didn’t do anything wrong and she is innocnt teen. you couldn’t let someone to hurt her or even worse. of course minhee knew that yours family works in dirty business but she doesn’t know much. and it should stay like this. minhee isn’t going to take your company one day. you can’t do it. if you won’t be dead to your 60s you would give company to your child or something but at this moment it isn’t time to think about this.
 the whole house was clean. junmyeon was here for sure. you smiled softly. take off your coat and boots. first thing you did was to drink some watter. drinking watter is important especially for your brain’s work. when you were done you went to find your sister.
“minhee!” you looked around your house but you didn’t hear her back. sighing you went to check her and you could hear she was talking with someone. “minhee!”
 you walked in and first thing you saw was her with phone.
“i’m sorry. didn’t hear you.”
“yeah, it’s okay. are you fine?”
“yes. everything is fine. something happend?”
“you not gonna attend school anymore. you will have home lessons. you know teacher will be here with you.” you shrugged.
“what? no way!”
“you can’t do anything about this.”
“you can’t lock me there! the fuck y/n! i have friends there.”
“they can come to house.”
“but no..wtf. i don’t want to.”
“it’s for your safety.” you tried to hug her. “i know it’s not cool and all but i don’t have any other choice.”
 minhee was looking at you with only hate in her eyes.
“are you trying to lock me down? just like parents did to you?”
“no, of course no! it’s not it.” you took package of ciggs. “i don’t want to see that you are dead. someone is following you. if you still be arguing you’ll be dead soon.”
“w-who is following me?”
“i don’t know. jackson hire some teacher and some bodyguards so i hope you’ll be safe here if no then i have to send you to china.”
“china?”
“yes to our uncle.”
“why the fuck i can’t live normal live.”
“listen. you can’t choose family but you should be grateful for us. for what you have. i work hard for everyting we achhived.”
“how? by killing people? it’s a job for you?” she smirked. “you are exactly like parents. what else do you do? drugs? murders? are you selling people?”
“done! i’m fuckin done. you can’t leave the house for next week. better accept how things are going because i’m not gonna let you talk to me like that.” you were pissed of. “you didn’t even know them well, what can you know? you acting like i don’t care about you even tho it’s not true.” 
 minhee didn’t feel bad about what she said. she was mad at you because she didn’t want to be in home. she wants to explore. you exactly know that she doesn’t want to live the way the whole your family is living. and you also don’t want her to live the same just like you. so sending her to china is the best option. uncle isn’t in mafia and all dirty stuff the rest of the family members do so minhee can be safe there.
  your sister didn’t talk with you by the whole week. you didn’t really care because you have so much work to do. kinda proud because you made japanese family to pay you the money they owned to your parents so you were satisfied. everything went fine. things are nice so are you. no worries by the whole time. only thing you are upset about is that your family want to meet. family meeting sounds nice? no. there is going to be other mafia because remember guys - if there is family meeting that means there is going to be make big deals.
 jackson with the rest of the boys were standing next to you. 
“you look pretty.” mark said looking at you with a smile. “but where is minhee?”
“told her that she has 5 minutes untill i go there.”
“yes sir.”
 you smiled. nothing can make your day worse. you are clever person so it turns out that you made a lot of big deals so now you are just swimming in the money to be honest. everything is so fine like never and nothing can upset you. not even this damn dinner with your family and others because you’ll be there with your people.
“minhee please we don’t have time. grandma will be mad.”
“i don’t care. i don’t want to.”
 you could only sighed. walking in her bedroom made you feel like teenager again. she was kind of similiar to you but at the same time she was so different. you took her hairbrush and started brushing her hair while looking in to her eyes in the mirror.
“you are so beautiful minhee. can you see it?” she nod. “everyones eyes are going to be on us. especially you because you are younger. behave there honey ok? they won’t like acting up or something. also be ready for all the compliments.” you smiled softly. “plus.. i can’t have eyes on you whole night so be careful. if someone is bothering you..” you lean to her ear “you know what to do.”
 she nodded and stand up. ready to go and show off. you are y/n and minhee kim. you are prestige family and nobody can tell otherwise. 
 the place was huge and expensive. you knew your family like things like that but not that much. without thinking your people with you at the front walked in welcomed by some people who were smilling at you.
“mrs.kim?”
“it’s me.”
“welcome madam. have fun.”
 slight smile goes on your lips and disaper quickly. and here you are. all eyes on you and your crew. smile and confident walk by you was really indimidiating. you knew your presence here was cherry on top. your parents died in mysterious conditions and here you are leading kim’s company. isn’t it suss? it is and you know it well but it’s only made you proud. your parents were problematic and were problem not only for you but for the family and co-workers. jelous eyes of wifes and girls were on you. to be honest, you are one of the prettiest and hottest woman there and that’s why you are just eye-catching. 
 the long table was place where you and minhee should stay. your people found place to themselfs, and when they were gone you noticed that by the table was sitting bosses of others organizations.
“good evening grandma.” you goes to hug her and asked minhee to do so. “i missed you so much.”
“is this my little y/n? sunshine i missed you. how are you?” she was worried. this woman was someone who you wish were your mother. she was the only one who cares about you. your mother or father never told you “i love you” it was your precious grandma who always was making sure to say “i love you” no matter what. “is everything fine?”
“i’m fine. everything is the best. business is going really well. you know.. zeros on bank account are only growing.” you smiled. “what about you? health?”
“i feel like i’m in my 30s.” she was only 70 years old but she felt way younger. “you know even tho your grandpa is pain in ass i’m fine. i’m so happy that now you are leading business.” she smirked. “my son and his -be sorry god- wife were failure. they have never made this much money like you do.”
“grandma thank you. it’s not such a big deal.”
“it is. i’m proud of you. i’m proud that you are leading something to be even bigger.” tear came down my cheek. “and you minhee. what about you?”
“everything is okay i guess.”
“is something bothering you?” everyone were looking at your sister and you knew what she is going to say.
“i feel kinda grounded but it’s okay.”
“what?”
“y/n made me stop attend private school and have home schooling.”
“it’s against your wish?”
“yes.”
 you were now kinda mad at your sister. you know well that she said that because she still doesn’t agree with idea of home schooling and china.
“let me make things clear grandma. someone was following her and i love her too much to let someone hurt her. it’s the safest in our home.”
 your grandma sighed like everyone else in family.
“minhee you are still too immature and too young to understand things. let your sister work and decide. she is doing everything for your best.” your grandpa said while he was drinking his wine.
“but i have friends there. i have thing i’m interested in school and now i’m going to be grounded.”
 you couldn’t listen her anymore what notice your another uncle.
“minhee just let things happen. can we talk about something else? as you can see we have guests by these table.” he looked around.
 and that was the time when minhee must leave. you looked at her and she disaper. anothers girls and boys who were teens also disaper leaving the elders and bosses.
“okay so let’s talk.” your grandpa said. “my son is such a dumbass and made debts. also. police was suspecting you to be the one who killed your parents my dear y/n.”
 boss of nct, bts and monstax looked at you. you just smiled at them.
“there is no proof. i made sure to done work.” you took your glass of wine. “i’m more pro than my parents was, right? i don’t think someone is crying because of their loss.”
 you interested taeyong. he has never seen a person who openly talk about murder. about parents murder. you were that cofident that it makes him like you. he could see clearly that you don’t fuck with others. 
“mother will you let her get away with this? he still was your son.”
“will you talk like that if you knew that he signed documents about taking over your wealth? and everyone else?” you took a sip.”seokhyun you are so fuckin dumb. i hope you know why i don’t have respect for you right?” you smirked “you are pain in as..you remind me of some boy who was bothering minhee. you know what did i do with him?” he shook his head no “i shot him in front of his parents eyes. be careful.”
“what else you know?” grandpa took another bottle of wine.
“i know so much that i could easily take over business of everyone here.” you smiled. “father hide money in japan. i guess no one knows why there but it doesn’t matter. i have deal for mr. lee taeyong.”
 taeyong smiled over you. he was glad that he is going to make deal with big mrs. kim y/n. 
“i listen to you lady.”
“i know your handsome and eye-catching member named yuta nakamoto is japanese and he runs your business there. let’s say i need him. i want your help with finding money in japan.”
“i want 40% from this.”
“you want too much. it’s almost half of the money i would get. it’s not worth it. you are only finding money that are basically belonging to me.”
 you weren’t dumb. you knew that it’s way too much.
“what is your proposition?”
“i can give you 20%.”
“deal. i’m glad i’m going to work with you mr. kim.”
“same here mrs.lee i hope you not gonna fail.” he smiled. “i want to also say something. time is ticking mr. seo. and you know what happend.”
 lee taeyong stod up and leave to his members table. you looked confused at wife of your cousin jongdae.
“what happend?”
“it’s matter between me and him. please don’t ask questions.”
“okay so i can begin now.” namjoon said slightly annoyed. “what with our collaboration mrs.kim.” he was looking annoyed at your grandma
“i said i don’t know.”
“please.. my boys were working for you. i think we would be giant.”
 you were looking at them and thinking. what the fuck. you knew that bts are doing good but you also heard about their debts.
“no. if my lovely grandma said no then it’s no.” you didn’t look at him but at your glass full of wine.”don’t you want collaboration with my grandma and granpa just to pay off your debts and bills?”
 everyone was looking at your table because everyone heard it. whole nct were looking at you with shock same with bts and bosses of other mafies were spechless same with shownu.
“aren’t you too mean? it’s none of your business y/n. it’s thing between me and your grandparents.”
“exactly. and i’m not going to look how you want to take their whole wealth. how much money do you need? we can borrow you but you know.” you stand up like namjoon did few seconds ago just to come closer. “deadline is short period of time. and consequences are really big.” you smiled. “ask chan what happend when he was late with money.”
 namjoon was standing there embarrased and paralaized. you come at him and he didn’t like it. but you weren’t afraid. you are at too strong position to be moved by little kim namjoon.
“okay. borrow me a three milion dollars and i’m going to return them back.”
“sure. jackson!” you said. “make collab with my grandma but remember that i have eyes all around and i will notice if there is less money than it should be. you have month to pay me back.” jackson give you both piece of paper when you signed it. “sign it.”
“thank you and yes. month and you will have your money back.”
 after this everything went smooth. no fights. just paceful event. by the time it was time to dance and you were asked by your cousin jongdae to dance but soon enough you were dancing with lee taeyong.
“i didn’t know you were that mean and that strong.” he said while his hands were on your waist and yours around his neck.
“i don’t like playing games with someone who isn’t worht it.”
“and i like it.” he smirked. “you seem to be good player aren’t you?”
“maybe i am. mr.taeyong why are you even here?” he was confused. “i clearly see that you and your men don’t want to be there.”
“are you watching us?”
“shouldn’t i?”
“i guess you should. it scary talking with girl who killed own parents.”
 you could only smile. you aren’t afraid of anything and no one will make you feel regret. your parents deserved this and if you wouldn’t kill them they would ruin your life and your family lifes. and y’all don’t deserve this at all. your parents were selfish since you’ve been child. when there was no minhee your only friend was maid and chef. they were talking with you and play with you and your toys just to not feel alone. beside of them you had your grandparents. your grandma loved you like you were her daughter. she always made sure to say “i love you” and to check on you. and your grandpa? he would be proud and happy to walk you to your kindergarten and take care of you along with your grandma. and your parents? they didn’t care. they just thougth about money. more money and even more money. your mother was mean if she had to stay with you. she would just left you in your bedroom with toys and goes to her friend or to watch tv. and father? he didn’t even talk with you. he started to talk when he wanted you to be part of mafia. 
he taught you everything you need to know. and because of their lack of love and your knowledge of things you shouldn’t know about you are like this today. cold and emotionless. no one really show your love (not including your grandparents). kids at shool were afraid of you becasue they knew who you were and their parents didn’t allow them to play with you. in high school they didn’t want to be in touch with girl whose family is gangsters and who could kill anyone they want. you even hadn’t any best friend. no one. 
“it’s not scary. they deserved this.” you were closer. “sometimes you need to get rid of your enemies and i’m sure they were one.”
“am i your enemy?”
“if you will help me you’ll be my friend.”
since then you haven’t talked with family members. you didn’t need to. also minhee was more distant than usually. you even noticed that she is leaving and coming back late at night. you just had hope that she isn’t causing any problems. but when she was gone for two days and came back like nothing happend it makes you feel mad. mark and youngjae were nice enough to follow her around and found out that she is dating someone. minhee was dating and you didn’t even know. also, it seems like they know each other really well and are together since the very long time. 
 you were fine with it. she is 18. she can date anyone. you didn’t even care about this that she doesn’t tell you but it’s okay. it’s hers life after all. but when she were gone for a week and she doesn’t contact with you.. boy, you were really mad. minhee just disapear and have no signs of live. 
“y/n you need to calm down. she for sure is fine.” mark said “she is teenager, something like this happens.”
“but i do so much for her, why she is like this?” bambam was looking at you with sad eyes. he knew he shouldn’t feel this way but he hates your sister and seeing you hurt was really.. bad feeling. he knew how much effort you put to raise her well and take good care of. “i don’t understand. she just could told me that she want to go somewhere or something. i’m sick of it.”
“y/n.. we got it. i think she could leave with her boyfriend. yugyeom is checking him.” jackson hugged you tightly. “she is fine. minhee is strong.”
“and naive. she doesn’t even know how to defend herself what if he is going to hurt her?”
“maybe no? we don’t know.”
 when you were sitting in your office you didn’t know back then that person who is lover of your sister is who he is. reading his info was really surprising to you. it was unbeliveble. member of nct. 
 sound of your heels could be hear in headquarter of nct. your usually outfit on you - dark coat and black boots above your knees. people called you black orphan because of the fact that you are orphan basically and because you only dressed in black.
 members of nct who noticced you were whispering something about black orphan being here. you were walking slowly don’t even bother to look at them. you had goal - find minhee. jackson and rest of the boys were behind you and were in the line. like always.
“excuse me, what are you doing here?” man named mark was in front of you. “i don’t remember that you were invited.”
“i don’t need invitation.” you growled. “better find kim minhee and park jisung.”
 face of mark knew that is going to happen and why are you here. taeyong and rest of the members of nct couldn’t belive that jisung is letting his girlfriend stay in their place. taeyong was against and mad because he found out by accident when he was checking bathroom and minhee was going to bathroom. he almost killed her.
 when mark was about to go your sister and her s/o were near. minhee was looking at you surprised. she knew you could find her but didn’t think that you would come to nct. 
“i count to 10 and we coming home.”
“i’m not leaving.” she hissed. “i’m sick of being under your control.”
“what is this noise here?” taeyong appeard in his hallway. the crowd of his people were looking around whole argument.
“you living with my money that i worked for. i pay your bills and all. i’m doing everything for you to have amazing life. why don’t you understand that you will never be normal girl? you will never. you will always be “daughter of mafia” or “sister who hate her parents”. you should accept this.”
“that’s why i fuckin hate you!” she scream. “i don’t want your help. you think you did everything well. i want to throw up everytime i reminds to myself what you are doing. i don’t want to be part of this also i don’t want to live in china. i want to decide.”
you laughed like freak. you were looking at your little sister and couldn’t think of anything but how stupid she actually is. 
“i’m not asking you.” you hissed. “you are ungretful, spoiled brat who thinks that owns the world and is main charcater, don’t you? if you want to be that independent okay. i’m going to block all back acounts from you. from now on you will work your ass off for money. i’m starting counting and you better come here.” you looked in to her eyes. “1..2..3..”
“you aren’t my mother. my mother is dead! understand this!”
 jaehyun was about to say something but taeyong stopped him. he was enjoying the show in front of him. he really loves how crazy you actually are.
“i’m staying with jisung. i won’t come back to home.”
“you are making disrace for our surname. don’t act like fool and come to home. i’m at 7.”
minhee didn’t even flinch.
“i’m not scared of you. after all i’m your family.”
“are you sure honey?” you touched her cheek. “do you know how killed your lovely parents?” she denied. “i did. funni isn’t it? everyone know but not their own daughter. i think you should be scared of me at that point.”
 minhee couldn’t belive her ears. you killed your parents. she was living with you not knowing about everything.
“you are crazy bitch! i hate you! i hate this family! one day i’ll make sure that police or media destroy you.”
“good luck.” you winked and slapped her. “you are no longer part of kims family. i don’t need you. you were the one that needed me.” you said harshly stepping closer and touched her chest to push her. “you are no one know. there is no coming back. you are done in my eyes. dead. and if i see you in my way i’m going to kill your love and then you. and guess what? nothing will bother to help find justice.” you shrugged and smiled one last time “you are free. make sure to change surname and to make it like we have never been family.”
 minhee was holidng her cheek and crying. at this point she knew that she doesn’t really know her own family. that there is secrets that are creepy and scary just like them. and she was sure she doesn’t want to involved. but now she was feeling bad because of what she said. jisung had tried hundred times explain her who you are. that she is doing it for her safety because thousands of people wants her head and she still didn’t listen.
 taeyong was following you.
“are you going to stop going after me or you want me to beat you up?”
“don’t need to be so harsh. i just want to ask you something.” he smiled. “have you ever been in love?”
“the fuck mr. lee? i only met you few times and i talk with you for the second time.”
“just answer me y/n.” his eyes was shining and you liked this view. you liked him to be honest. he did awesome work by finding your fathers money. he was loyal to you and you liked it. also he was handsome. why don’t like him?
“no. i have never been in love. having crush in daughter of mafia doesn’t sound nice right?”
“i don’t belive. you are way too pretty and too smart to be alone the whole time.” you smiled. he was cheesy but you liked it. “i think this can change.”
“do you want to seduce me?” you asked with little smile. “make me feel like i’m special and leave next day?”
“who said i would leave?” he smirked. “you are really something y/n.”
“i think we could talk about it.”
 and here you are. taeyong brings happines to your live. you have never experinced things like the one you do with taeyong. you are no longer alone. you wake up usually in his bed with his eyse piercing in to your soul. jackson and boys were happy that someone is interested in you and you are intrested in someone. they have never seen you having crush in male. but here you are. all over heels over lee taeyong. you didn’t like the idea of him having you wrapped around his finger but who cares? you like it.
“y/n what are you thinking about?”
“taeyong would you kill for me?”
“isn’t it obvious? i know you can do it by yourself but i would always kill anyone who is messing with my girl.”
“since when i’m your girl?”
“since the first time i’ve heard of you y/n.” he kissed you. “why you asking?”
“i feel like i spend way too much time with you so i need to make sure that you are worth it.”
“are you doubting me?” he touch your cheeks. “look at us. we are in my apartment in japan with beautiful view on sea. we are here alone having the best sex of our lives. having each other and telling silly secrets.” he hugged you and you lay your head on his chest. “we don’t need to stress about business. we have each other now. it’s feels like heaven.” 
“we are in japan. we are looking at the sea.” you smiled softly. “it’s almost like dream.”
“i know you have never thing like this. i want to show you life colors you know?” he smiled. “i want you to be happy. i want to see that you enjoy your time and let someone like you more than friend.”
“you just saying that.” you sighed. “you are going to leave soon like everyone in my life. but it’s okay.”
“you will never get rid of me.” he looked deadly in to your eyes. “past six months was like arcadia with you by my side. i feel like i can love you and i know that no one ever loved you the way i do.” he smiled. “but i’m here. i love you.”
“what?”
“you heard me and i’m not going to say this again.”
“lee taeyong you make me feel needed.”
 he was messing so much with your head and you didn’t even mind. he was there. he was with you and makes you forget about any problems. about stress. about work. time with him is smooth. and you love it.
“can we make love this time? not fuck? i want to feel your love even if it’s temporary.” you said with eyes closed while you kissed him
 taeyong smiled wide. he loved the idea of making love and not just fuck.
“my girl is soft.” he teased. “i want to do it. love.”
“i hate you so much sometimes.” you rolled your eyes. “i’m not going to ask anymore. it’s just this once.”
“alright. i got it.”
 you were sure that taeyong will disapear. you can’t show feeling but taeyong.. he show you love. he was there. you didn’t even know when you started to finding yourself making breakfasts for him. hugging him for every 5 minutes. telling him your dreams. listen to him and advice him. making him happy. it comes to you naturally just by watching his moves to you. it was so soft and so new to you. proudness. it what’s you feel. you could love taeyong. you didn’t even love your parents nor sister. it was more like obligation. but with taeyong? you realized your feeling when you were missing him and your mind just focus on him.
 you wanted to be best girlfriend to him. one time he even just put gun in your mouth and say to suck it if you love him just to then have you moaning “love yous”. and you did. not thinking twice. at this moment you both knew that it’s simply love between dificult people.
 taeyong was deep in you. you could feel him hitting right spots.
“how’s my kitten feeling?”
“good. good sir.” you moaned. “i feel like i’m close.” you whines
“i love view of you. you are perfect for me even your pussy is made for me.” he moeaned. “look at you under me. lovely.”
“stop talking and just make me cum.”
“marry me.”
 you were that confused. you were at edge of orgasm and he is telling you this.
“taeyong why are you saying this when we fuck?”
“why not? will you marry me?” he punted deeper and faster. “i would love to see you with my surname. lee y/n.” he smiled giving you hickeys “all by myself. my wife.”
“you got to be kidding me.” you laughed “we are having sex and you asking me about mar-”
 you couldn’t end your sentence because taeyong circled your clit and suddenly wave of pleasure hit you like ddu du and you cum. moaning his name and curling.
“answer kitten.”
“yes. i want to fuckin marry you lee dumbass taeyong.”
102 notes · View notes
renegadewangs · 3 years
Text
Van Zieks - the Examination, part 4
Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).
Disclaimer: (see  Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
It’s time to take a close look at Episode 2 of the second game, The Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro!
Episode 2-2: The Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro
Remember how in the last episode we vaguely got Barok on our side near the end of the trial by proving Mrs. Garrideb was actually involved in the crime? … Yeah. Forget that progress. It's being undone. Case 2-2 is the first case of the second game which features Barok, which unfortunately means he needs to be 'reintroduced' to the audience and it takes him back several steps in his growth. It makes sense, I suppose, it would've been weird starting a new game with him already being lightly on Ryu's side. Even so, it's a bit insulting how this case acts as if the chronologically previous one accomplished nothing.
So anyway, this case flashbacks to something which supposedly happened right after the first game's fourth case. The day after Soseki's acquittal, even. Turns out, Soseki awoke to find one of the other tenants in his building dead and asked Ryu for help, but (S)Holmes tagged along. Gregson is at the crime scene, keeping an eye on the place and on Soseki in particular since he's suspicious. (Sure, Gregson. Sure. Has nothing to do with the Reaper's curse, probably.) After some investigation with (S)Holmes, Gregson has enough evidence to actually arrest Soseki, which definitely feels like a step backwards. A bit later, it turns out the victim is Not Actually Dead Yet. Again! The Great Ace Attorney really enjoys throwing us for a loop by pretending we're in for another murder case.
Anyway, during the course of the investigation, I found two mentions of Van Zieks. The first is when you investigate the broken glasses and bottles in the victim's room. Susato is immediately reminded of Lord van Zieks.
Tumblr media
And when examining Garrideb's old army uniform, Susato points out it might suit Lord van Zieks.
Tumblr media
Haha, as if his usual outfit isn't ostentatious enough already. So we learn that Susato doesn't have a very high opinion of him at all, and I should hope it's not still related to that time he called detective novels pathetic. It's fun of them to refer to him in an investigation that he's not involved in in any way, especially when they don't know yet that he's the prosecution again.
Speaking to Soseki in the gaol, we're once again told that he's had a dreadful time in England so far. He sees foreigners everywhere and he's sure they're all laughing at him. He's been so on edge the past year that he's moved 'more times than he can remember'. So once again, we're reminded that racial prejudice in 1900s England is a focal point of this game's story. Once the conversation is over, Gregson appears to let the gang know that the victim has regained consciousness and is accusing Soseki of poisoning him. We're going to trial for an attempted murder charge, y'all!
The next day, in the defendant's lobby, Susato comes bursting in with the dreadful news that Barok van Zieks has once again taken on the prosecution. It's definitely safe to assume now that either Ryu or Soseki is the reason he's taking on these not-really-murder trials when he normally wouldn't. As I mentioned before, this is his reintroduction in the second game and so the game feels compelled to remind the player of what went down in case 1-4:
Tumblr media
He sure did! The game also once again reminds us what the Reaper's Curse entails, and that perhaps that's the reason why Soseki is on trial yet again. He's doomed, perhaps. Susato also informs us that (S)Holmes is running late, just as he was two days ago, and Ryu thinks that's a good thing because if the Great Detective were there, Ryu might come to rely on his help.
Tumblr media
… I suppose? He already relies on Susato for help and I feel like that would warrant far more 'preying' from Van Zieks than relying on a male, adult British detective for help. Though knowing (S)Holmes, he'd end up stealing the show and taking the words from Ryu's mouth, but that doesn't seem to be what Ryu's worried about here. I suppose the main point to take away from this remark is that Ryu wants to do as much as he can by himself. He wants to appear strong in front of Van Zieks to avoid presenting an easy target, and I think this might actually be the first time we see a sentiment like that from him. Is he afraid of Van Zieks? Does he actually care about the man's opinion? Anyway, he swears to show Van Zieks what a Japanese lawyer can do.
Inside the courtroom, Van Zieks does the usual prosecutor spiel about how the defense needs to be ready for defeat. Ryu thinks to himself that Van Zieks has a particular animosity towards Japanese people for some reason.
Tumblr media
Good thing we got a second game in the series, eh? So because the defendant was on trial only two days ago, the same jurors were chosen where possible. The only juror not returning is Mrs. Garrideb, who's too busy being in prison. Her spot is now taken by a very fancy lady we later learn to be the wife of the Altamont Gas Company's owner. She may as well be the CEO herself with how she's acting, though. Anyway, Van Zieks addresses the jurors directly.
Tumblr media
“However, the innocent verdict afforded to this eccentric Nipponese before... has had dire consequences. Did the accused repent for his wrongdoing in that affair? Far from it. Instead, he used his freedom to perpetrate a most blood-curdling crime!”
Van Zieks makes record time by taking off his cloak immediately after this line. He's gone straight into overdrive. The witnesses summoned this time are Inspector Gregson and... Soseki? It's very irregular for the defendant to be testifying, especially this early in the trial and especially by the prosecution's request. I can't really make much of it. It feels like the only reason Soseki is testifying is for this joke:
Tumblr media
Also found when examining the testimony is a remark from Van Zieks that I honestly found shocking in how ferocious and scummy it is.
Tumblr media
Unnecessary, that remark. It didn't need to exist at all in my opinion. So after Ryu shatters the testimony and scatters Gregson's fish 'n chips, Van Zieks calmly pours himself a glass of wine. I have to be honest, by now whenever he does this I'm left wondering what he'll do next. Will he crush the chalice? Will he throw it? Will he actually take a sip? The versatility of the action and unpredictable nature of Van Zieks add a bit of suspense. Turns out, his mind wandered during the testimony.
Tumblr media
And then he ends up crushing the glass in his hand anyway. Alas, poor chalice. We knew it. So after a bit of debating back and forth about whether Shamspeare drank the supposedly-poisoned-tea after Soseki left the room, Van Zieks suddenly falls silent. We get three different, consecutive frames of him going “......” and when the judge asks what's wrong, he says this:
Tumblr media
Supersonic hearing, this one. That is, unless the carriage entered the courthouse and literally pulled up in the hallway outside the room? Haven't we learned our lesson from the last time a carriage was driven into the Old Bailey?! So Shamspeare was apparently subpoenaed by the prosecution and has shown up to testify (with his doctor's permission). Bad news for us, since he's the one accusing Soseki in the first place. There's also a second witness to support Shamspeare's insistence there were no other visitors to the room and therefore only Soseki could have poisoned him. After that testimony is over, Van Zieks gets his wish and all the jurors vote guilty.
Tumblr media
Van Zieks really seems to think that Soseki is a terrible person deserving of justice, huh? He was right there during the previous trial, saw Ryu prove without a shadow of a doubt that Soseki was innocent and still insists that justice will be done “this time”. Calm the heck down man, you're the one who sided with us when Mrs. Garrideb needed to testify, remember? And here comes another example of the game pretending the previous trials didn't leave an impact; when the Summation Examination is brought up, it's with disdain and this remark:
Tumblr media
Bro, we used the Summation Examination successfully like five times already. Sit your butt down and watch the show. The jurors once again give prejudiced reasons for their decisions:
Tumblr media
And unfortunately, instead of changing their minds by proving Soseki is a morally upstanding, innocent citizen, Ryu instead gets through this Summation Examination by basically proving Shamspeare is a worse person than Soseki. That's... not the direction you should be taking here, narrative. After convincing four of the jurors that Shamspeare is a fishy liar, Van Zieks flings another chalice of wine in frustration. The judge still thinks he could technically pass a ruling on the trial, since the new information didn't exactly disprove that Soseki is the culprit, but the jurors have been influenced so thoroughly that they can't let this new info go ignored. Testimony from the Altamont Company is allowed! Van Zieks thinks it's a waste of time, of course, and if this were reality it would be. Since it's an Ace Attorney game, we know Shamspeare's gas thievery is bound to somehow be related to the incident. Van Zieks flings yet another chalice after hearing the testimony (how many has it been already? Five?) and very shortly after, he tosses the entire bottle over his shoulder. Susato points out that he seems to be in a violent mood. I feel like someone must've pissed in his oatmeal that morning, because I've got no real explanation for why his character regressed this badly in the course of what chronologically was only two days.
Van Zieks flings two more chalices as the testimony progresses to prove that Shamspeare made fake coins to fool the gas meter. At the end of it all, he supposedly 'throws his hand up in despair and happened to catch his hallowed bottle along the way', flinging yet another one of those into the gallery. I'm starting to feel very bad for the people seated behind him now. Is the game overdoing these quirky animations to compensate for his regressed attitude? Because I'm not sure it's working... Van Zieks continues to insist that the situation hasn't changed and only Soseki could have poisoned the victim, so he calls for immediate adjucation. The game gives Ryu the option to either object or wait and see, and I have to be honest, this gave me pause. After what happened with the penalties in case 1-4, I was sure Van Zieks might dish out more punishment for waiting and seeing. Turns out, he doesn't. Ryu points out that Shamspeare likely used the tea to make these fake frozen coins of his, meaning there's still tea left at the scene of the crime which can be tested for poison.
Tumblr media
Head in my hands right now. Again, I get it, they basically had to reintroduce Van Zieks to newcomers of the game (however few there might've been) so they had to regress him a bit, but I really don't like this. He honestly felt like he'd grown at the end of 1-4 and the game's not only undone it, it feels like they've made him even more of a scumbag. This line and this gesture honestly doesn’t quite correspond with the character established in the previous game. Anyway, court adjourned till the next day so the police can test the tea for poison.
During the investigation segment, we get a conversation that I'd quite honestly forgotten even exists. Turns out, (S)Holmes and Van Zieks are acquainted! ...or are they? (S)Holmes says he 'must pass the time of day with Mr. Reaper again, as it's been too long' and when asked whether they're acquainted, (S)Holmes replies that there isn't a person in the world who doesn't know his name, expertly dodging the question. Naturally, a new conversation topic opens up about it, so we can still attempt to needle more details out of him.
Tumblr media
He explains the history of the Reaper's curse a bit more. Previous defendants found not-guilty would 'disappear from the capital' by falling under a passing carriage, drowning in the Thames, succumbing to a sudden fever... Etc. Susato points out that if those rumors are true, then surely the obvious conclusion would be that they were killed by Van Zieks's own hand. (S)Holmes points out that's impossible, since Van Zieks was already investigated on the matter before and for every single incident, he had a solid alibi. (This... doesn't disprove Van Zieks had anything to do with it, but okay (S)Holmes. Sure.) (S)Holmes also rubs it in yet again that Van Zieks retired from the courts five years ago and didn't return until the day Naruhodo arrived. I honestly don't know why they keep bringing that 5 year hiatus up in every single case, because as far as I can recall it was never fully explained or relevant.
Tumblr media
I love how “foul smell” is wedged in-between those two topics as if it's also related. Anyway the conversation continues when Ryu brings up that Van Zieks seems to have a particular disdain for Japanese people. Susato demands to know whether (S)Holmes knows a bit more about it and while he's silent at first, he relents and tells us a tale (which will apparently be forgotten by Ryu and Susato in case 1-5). Van Zieks “chose to enter the legal profession ten years ago, but before that time, the man's closest companion hailed from the empire of Japan”. Which is a wording that baffles me, because it implies that Van Zieks chose to enter the legal profession at the same moment that Japanese person betrayed him, which we know is not the case. He was already in training to be a prosecutor before that, otherwise how could he possibly have prosecuted the Professor trial? Ryu is shocked and asks to know more, but (S)Holmes says the veil on the events from the past will be lifted soon enough. I'll get back to the implications of what this means for Van Zieks's backstory when we hit this exact same reveal in case 1-5.
Van Zieks is mentioned very little in the rest of the investigation segments. We only learn that he tasked Gregson with finding new clues, much to Gregson's dismay, as there isn't much to be found. The Inspector does immediately leap at new information when we uncover it, which implies he's eager to either please Van Zieks or avoid being scolded by him. I'm assuming the latter, but it's also possible Gregson feels guilty over the whole Reaper thing and Klint's autopsy, and is now compensating by working his hardest to fulfill Van Zieks's requests.
At the very end of the investigation, when evening falls, (S)Holmes reminds us that “it'll be hard to escape the grip of our friend, Mr. Reaper”. The next day, in the defendant's lobby just before the trial begins, Ryu thinks to himself that he doesn't believe in the legend of the Reaper any more than he believes in the convict's curse Soseki keeps mentioning. What's interesting here is that Ryu isn't dreading the confrontation anymore. After the McGilded trial he seemed genuinely intimidated by the concept of going up against Van Zieks (not because of the racism but because of what happened to his first defendant), but now he's not so hesitant anymore. He's beginning to see that Van Zieks can be defeated, that the Reaper thing is nonsense and that protecting his client is a fight worth fighting.
Into the courtroom we go for day 2 of the trial! When the judge asks about the results of the tea test, Van Zieks is silent for a moment. He pours himself a glass of wine, asking for a moment to “savour a liquid of a more sanguine hue”, then refers to Gregson for the full report. Gregson confirms no poison was found in the tea remains, but the prosecution wouldn't be the prosecution (and the game would be pretty boring) if they didn't have a backup plan. When Ryu proclaims Soseki is innocent, Van Zieks accuses him of jumping to conclusions, “a typical Nipponese reaction”. It's also a typical prosecution reaction to be hypocritical, no surprises here. He throws his chalice (first one of the day) and summons Shamspeare back to the stand to testify about how Soseki's unpoisoned and undrank cup of tea had been used to make the ice coins.
There's some lines here that I thought I might as well include:
Tumblr media
“Yet on occasion, tedium distracts me and I pour more times than I intended until the bottle is dry.”
You know, it occurs to me that this drink is pretty much confirmed to be wine. He's very extra when talking about it himself, but he had his silly little wine analogies in the previous case and Susato referred to his glasses as “wine glasses”. And you would think it's obvious that it's wine, but we know Ace Attorney's long history with 'grape juice'. Either way, this dialogue leaves a pretty harsh implication that Van Zieks drinks alcohol simply to distract himself from troublesome moods. Sure, he says “tedium”, but this is a stoic prosecutor in the year 1900. They referred to depression as “melancholia” back then, and since he doesn't appear to have any friends, I expect he experiences “tedium” quite often outside the courtroom. He apparently set a rule for himself not to fill his glass more than seven times during a trial which, in turn, implies he's aware any more would cause problems. All of this is moot, of course, since 80% of the wine he pours for himself ends up on the floor between shards of glass. Still, though... Zieks, are you okay?
Tumblr media
I don't think he is, because he pulls a very dirty trick here. Ryu proves Soseki drank all his tea and therefore it couldn't possibly have been used, so Van Zieks insinuates to Shamspeare that perhaps he misremembered using the tea from Soseki's cup and instead used tea still left in the teapot. An excuse Shamspeare happily takes, of course. Not gonna lie, I got angry, not because it's a dirty trick but because it's inconsistent. This is the very same character who all but dragged Mrs. Garrideb down from the juror bench to testify when it became clear she likely threw a knife out the window. And now he's feeding slippery excuses to a man who's very clearly lying about all sorts of things? What??? And remember this incident, because I'm going to be referring back to it later.
He crushes another chalice, removes his cloak and continues to insist that we should believe this thieving liar at the witness stand. The jurors for some reason buy the baloney served to them on a tinfoil platter and even twist Ryu's sentiments around, with some bloke going as far as to interpret the situation as 'the lawyer lad believes anyone who steals gas deserves to be poisoned'. Summation Examination gets very funky this time around, with the outcome being that Shamspeare probably blew the gas pipes (s-snerk) and the poison was laced on the pipe.
Van Zieks pours himself a glass of wine and pretty much immediately flings it, saying these are all empty assertions without a shred of proof. When Ryu presents the picture with the skin prints, Van Zieks once again breaks the rule of the prosecution staying silent during Summation Examination to point out that skin prints cannot be used as evidence, since that method is not recognized by the court (yet). Aaand he crushes yet another chalice in his hand.
Tumblr media
Susato claims it was never meant to be used as official evidence, it was only a tool to demonstrate a new possibility to the jury. Jumping through some loopholes here, we are, since the picture is clearly in our Court Record as evidence. But, well, the prosecution cheats too so what's the harm? Some jurors vote not-guilty, but there's still one more that needs convincing on order to keep the trial going. Ryu says he has a witness who's already testified that the pipe-blowing incident did indeed occur that night, as Soseki stated the other day before the court that his stove went out in the dead of night. (Hang on, is this why the narrative made him testify alongside Gregson?) With that the majority of the jury votes not-guilty and the trial has to continue, but Van Zieks is extra rattled now. (Another bottle goes soaring.)
Tumblr media
He once again reminds the court that skin prints aren't admissible evidence and therefore, there is no real proof Shamspeare put his mouth to the pipes (ghghhh I'm sorry this is such a silly thing to have to type out). Ryu asks for an investigative team to test the mouth of the gas pipe for poison, but since it would've evaporated by now, that's a no-go. Also, Van Zieks says that “what appears to be simple is my Nipponese friend's mind” and that's a scumbag point. Ryu attempts to turn the trial around by claiming that Shamspeare attempted to kill Soseki, making the defendant the victim, but Van Zieks ain't having it. The aggrieved being the accused is an interesting notion, but doesn't change what actually happened. In fact, if anything, it establishes a motive for Soseki to lay a trap for Shamspeare. Because who else could have known about the gas pipe trickery and put the poison there, right? Why, the true culprit, of course.
Tumblr media
Our man Van Zieks really doesn't like (S)Holmes, huh? A tidbit which the games will never bother to explain! Either way, Ryu raises the name of Olive Green, the victim of the previous case. And I gotta say, I do genuinely like the way they integrated these two Clouded Kokoro cases together. The chronology of everything that went down is very fun to decipher, but long story short, Olive Green was at Briar Road the day she was stabbed for a reason and knows more about the 'convict curse' Soseki and Garrideb kept mentioning, so let's drag her into court! Van Zieks agrees to subpoena Miss Green in order to 'see his Nipponese friend's farce through to its conclusion'.
So during intermission some more evidence is handed to Ryu and when trial resumes, Van Zieks continues to be his usual self.
Tumblr media
“The prosecution has tried to extend every courtesy to this amateur newcomer from dubious Eastern shores.”
Ryu sweats bullets as he meekly thanks Van Zieks “(for his backhanded consideration)”, but once again the judge is the one to call Van Zieks out on his attitude.
Tumblr media
Amazing. It's so refreshing to see a judge who actually disagrees with the prosecution's haughty attitude problems and acknowledges it has no place in a courtroom. Nothing against Udgey, because we all love Udgey (and his Canadian brother), but this man actually grows and learns. So Olive Green takes the stand alongside Shamspeare (maybe not the best idea since Ryu just accused her of trying to murder this man) for dual testimony. When Green brings up what a dreadful ordeal the knife to her back was, Van Zieks says this:
Tumblr media
Hang on, empathy? He's giving her advice? This reeks of humanization! Green seems taken aback and thanks him for his words, so the sentiment was genuinely accepted. This in itself is a very nice scene to see in action, similar to Van Zieks allowing Roly Beate to keep his job. Unfortunately, Van Zieks's character is in a wild rollercoaster of moral inconsistency during this particular case which sours the experience somewhat. Case in point:
Tumblr media
YOOOU hypocrite! This actively angered me, because at the very start of this same trial day he was personally feeding lies to Shamspeare. Now he's warning Green not to lie? It gets even worse a bit later on when Green gets cornered about stealing the note, she asks him whether it could all be some sort of misunderstanding, and he says:
Tumblr media
ACTIVELY FEEDING SHAMSPEARE A LIE. THE VERY SAME DAY. I'm all for prosecutors using dirty tactics. It helps to juxtapose them further to the honest defense attorney we play as. However, it needs to be consistent. Either a prosecutor condones a witness's lies to help their case, or they feel that they're above it. The third, most used option is for them to start off condoning it, only to learn that truth takes priority over victory. This sloppy back-and-forth morality that Van Zieks has going on here is insanely frustrating, so it's no wonder some players end up disliking him. It honestly feels as if they rewrote this case so many times, they screwed up the exact growth trajectory Van Zieks has.
Anyway, it seems Van Zieks is suddenly fully on our side now to help Ryu prove that Green was in Shamspeare's room and laced the gas pipe with poison. And I mean help help. When the judge points out that if Green had laced the pipe the very same day she was stabbed, the attempted murder would have happened six days ago. Van Zieks is the one to say “Perhaps not, My Lord” and explain Briar Road was full of police at that time. At this point, Van Zieks and Ryu (and also Susato) actively start to take turns to explain the proper chronology of events. So the defense and the prosecution are in perfect sync right now, working together to explain the whodunnit. This is the ideal outcome to any trial, usually not seen until the last case of the game, so it's curious that this dynamic abruptly shows itself in a case like this. Van Zieks does still have one moment of gaslighting when he claims Ryu may have inhaled some dubious gas, causing his judgment to be clouded, since there's no motive behind Shamspeare's attempts on his fellow lodgers. A matter that's very easily resolved, of course. Once the name of Selden is brought up, Van Zieks continues our little game of back-and-forth-truth-reveal until (S)Holmes shows his face.
Tumblr media
“Your usual haunts are the filthy backstreets of the capital, are they not?”
To which (S)Holmes replies that it's been too long, and Van Zieks's complexion has worsened since last they met. Alright, so Van Zieks and (S)Holmes definitely have met in person before, some undetermined amount of time ago. You'd think that going by (S)Holmes's friendly attitude they might've even been friends once, but our great detective is like that towards everyone. This is evidenced by an earlier encounter with Gregson where (S)Holmes insists they're friends and Gregson says that they're not friends, to which (S)Holmes quietly agrees. So really, this little exchange tells us nothing about the history between the great detective and the Reaper.
Some shenaniganry, a breakdown and admittance to guilt later, the court is finally ready to deem Soseki innocent. Van Zieks once again has some interesting lines here:
Tumblr media
“And one I certainly didn't envisage walking... with you.”
Considering he attempted to trip us up for most of this walk up until the very last stretch, I don't like this remark very much. It feels very unearned. This is another one of those things that would've been more suitable in the last case of the game, but instead it's being crammed into a messy mid-game moment with the pretense that Van Zieks learned a lesson about being our ally.
In the defendant's lobby, the game basically gives the exact same dialogue as at the end of the original Clouded Kokoro case; that Soseki is returning to Japan and hopes to pen his own literature there, with the rest of the cast pointing out that the Reaper's Curse must factor into his decision to some degree. So we're still holding onto that question of whether Soseki will escape an untimely death or not. Anyone who's already played the last case of the first game will know the answer, of course.
So to summarize... I genuinely didn't enjoy Van Zieks's portrayal in this case. It really feels as if something went horribly wrong and they got some notes mixed up about where his character was already headed in the previous game. It's a crying shame. There was a lot of potential for a case set between 1-4 and 1-5, but they really dropped the ball when it comes to consistency and I've no doubt that it reflected badly on people's opinions of him. Though I think when we return to the first game for The Unspeakable Story, everything will right itself out again to some degree. Stay tuned!
26 notes · View notes
jiangwanyinscatmom · 3 years
Text
I'm just going to leave a reminder here of Wei Wuxian's, Jiang Cheng's and Lan Wangj's "crimes" and what morally grey actually means.
Wei Wuxian: He created the ghost path which entails necromancy, hence the taboo within the cultivation world calling it a "dirty" path. It is the desecration of bodies and no burial rights for the dead, it is seen as a moral offense to harm your own human body, which Wei Wuxian does by harnessing resentful energy. His Taijitu is unbalanced by too much Yin meaning withdrawal, bitterness and spiteful (sound familiar yet?)
He was not looked down on for his actions in the Sunshot Campaign as it was seen as his right and Jiang Cheng's to destroy the Wen's within Wen Ruohan's army. This plays into the eye for an eye of sect politics and Wen Ruohan was asserting himself as a higher power within a society that works upon daoist beliefs. Wei Wuxian is not a war criminal due to this, all of the deaths that he was infamous for he was also praised for until he decided to protect the remnant Wens that were seen at large as a stain upon the cultivation world due to their family name.
His cultivation was only convenient when it could be harnessed by the Sect of Yunmeng Jiang. His defection is a show of shame and projected as such to the cultivation world which left him under suspicion even more so by protecting a worldly enemy. Yet he does not attack until he is provoked something that had been warned against but the Sects with power consider him a liability along with getting rid of the Wens who are still considered to hold the same responsibility as Wen Ruohan by association by name. His deaths during the rampage if Nightless City was already a response to the attacks against him that Jin Guangshan called for due to the death of a Sect Heir.
Later Jiang Cheng joins again for the first Siege as revenge for Jiang Yanli. Wei Wuxian was forced into the position to defend himself without the backing of other cultivators. His crime was being a volatile outlier to the 4 Great Clans as he claimed no loyalty to them despite his powers.
His personal crimes came down to the accidental deaths of Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli, which only Jiang Cheng holds as deep crimes once Wei Wuxian is back in the world. His supposed villainy is quickly switched onto Jin Guangyao as a far more active threat to unbalancing the powers of the Four Sects as his past crimes are now lesser to cultivation politics.
He is thematically the compass of moral and idealistic justice killed due to being too radical by the standards of the world. He was in the right, morally, but by political standards he was a danger and also one to himself due to desperation. And hence the only morally grey character of the main three, his actions were questionable but also ultimately meant to be for the greater safety of those he protected first with the Jiang Sect and later the Wens.
Lan Wangji: He is presented as the ideal of rigid to the book standards of daoist practices, does not boast, follows a sensible routine, is scholarly and follows the rules set by his Sect. He is the lawful morality of the plot, but his naivety is what puts his own knowledge of what true morals are as he learns that it is not black and white thinking and not everything can be placed in the world with just rules.
He does help the common people of the world, but it is not until he is faced with understanding why Wei Wuxian defected and became a wanted criminal that he dwells on his own thoughts of what can be done within the confines of the political rules that have been set. He does in fact rebel against his own Sect as a show of picking his own personal morals, choosing to stand by Wei Wuxian and protect him.
He proceeds to accept punishment for standing by a cultivation world enemy, not out of guilt, but as a show that he stands by his choices and would choose to do so again as there are always situations that cannot be solved easily and they can not be defined cleanly as right and wrong.
Later on he instills his own morality and kindness in his juniors neither pressuring them or pressing them to do more, only what they can do safely and within their abilities as well as their own thinking. Sizhui especially is the greatest show of what Lan Wangji thought as he does not run to assumptions first meeting "Mo Xuanyu" remaining courteous and showing care to his safety, and later when finding out who Wei Wuxian was but still choosing to stand by him and Lan Wangji in solidarity despite the accusations aimed at them.
Later he is able to stand by his own choices next to Wei Wuxian without hesitation due to his surety within trusting Wei Wuxian and understanding that there is a deeper plot at play unlike when he was young.
Lan Wangji's personal crimes was hesitating to stand by someone he cared for due to his own lack of understanding in separation of rules, morality, and how to come to terms with forging his own path of realization with them until later in his life. He is the typical coming of age story and maturing into a kinder morality that is balanced into something that can safely protect one's self and others with the least possible chance of losses.
Jiang Cheng: Politically he stays close to Sect regulations and later as stringently as possible in order to solidify his place among the cultivation sects. He is well off, he had at one point the power of the Yiling Laozu under his command as he was a disciple solely of Yunmeng Jiang. But, he places his morality against the order of the cultivation world.
Since he was young he ordered Wei Wuxian to keep away from problems, it was a disruption and not worth the wrath or trouble that could be brought down on them. The sacrifice of some lives did not weigh against the safety of those who were more important to him, first his parents, and then the happiness of Jiang Yanli despite that happiness being veiled in ignorance.
His life debt to the Wen siblings during the Sunshot Campaign, even without knowing about the Golden Core, he chooses that the debt is not important enough next to his hate of the Wen name and, out of jealousy of Wei Wuxian leaving him for something lesser. He views repayment as something above him, that he does not owe if the slights against him are seen as unforgivable. His own morality is very cutthroat and insular to himself despite his love of others.
His festering hate even when Wei Wuxian leaves eventually morphs into a personal vendetta, and he states several times that Wei Wuxian's repayment is his death, an eye for an eye, for his parents, Jiang Yanli, and Jin Zixuan. His first death is not enough as he hunted for his soul for thirteen years eventually resulting in the murder of innocents that had nothing to do with his grudge. He is infamously cruel and considered unhinged as a Sect Leader, but is seen as a hero for killing Wei Wuxian and has the clout of power to protect himself as needed and is allowed to continue his torture of cultivators.
He falls into a spiral of pure violence hate and bitterness as his honorary title reflects, ironically he meant it as a ward against being poisoned, but he poisons himself by his lack of further reflection and dismissal of everyone's actual motives. He is the antithesis of Lan Wangji's kinder actions as he instills his harmful hateful views within his nephew and as he was when he was young, still keeps his head down and following the structure of the cultivation world as his position is not threatened. He has no just morals any longer, he is obsessed with chasing a revenge that has long been solved and has not changed since his years of the Sunshot campaign and his eye for an eye thinking.
In the most basic sense for these three they are the hero (Lan Wangji), the anti-hero (Wei Wuxian) and the antagonist (Jiang Cheng). They are the three focal points of extremism of story structure of character arcs. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji learn their lessons and are granted their happy ends with finally learning to understand the other morally and find love within their shared ideals to balance what the other lacks. Jiang Cheng stagnates and is left to mull over where to go after his hate is no longer a matter of worth and the rest word moves on.
57 notes · View notes
chaoticpuff17 · 3 years
Text
Something Wicked
part 7
masterlist
Warnings: abuse, yandere behavior 
alright my darlings, not my best work, but here’s part 7! I might edit it later! Love you all! and a reminder that if you or a loved one is in an abusive relationship. Please call the emergency hotlines! 
Tumblr media
Y/N had never been more terrified in her life. Jin kept her safely tucked away in the penthouse, and much to her horror, he never left. When she’d asked about it, as casually as she could as she found her defiance towards the situation only angered him, he’d smiled and told her that he had taken a leave of absence to spend with her before kissing her forehead and asking what she wanted for lunch.
In the several days she had been trapped there, he hadn’t left her side once. Any time she tried to refuse his attention, he got upset. Every hour spent with him showed her just how far gone her boss truly was. Every morning he would set out her clothes for her. He cooked for her. He didn’t leave her side for even a moment. It was as though he thought smothering her would affect her perception of him and of the situation he had placed them both in.
“Darling,” He cooed coming up behind her where she had been sitting stiffly in one of the chairs in the living room reading and trying desperately to ignore his gaze on her. “You’ve been so quiet today. Are you feeling alright?” He asked resting his chin on her shoulder.
“I’m fine.” She murmured trying to suppress her shudder. He didn’t like it when she flinched. The bruise situated on her temple was evidence enough of that.
He hummed noncommittally before moving around her chair and lifting her up before settling her back down in his lap nuzzling into her neck enjoying her warmth and the feel of her in his arms. “I don’t like it when you’re this quiet.” He murmured against her neck. “I’d hate to think you were ignoring me, darling.”
She couldn’t help how she stiffened at those words. Jin had a temper, worse than she had ever realized. She had never thought that Jin was a violent man, but she hadn’t thought a lot of things about Jin until just a few days ago.
“Of course not.” She whispered forcing herself to relax into his hold despite the fact she wanted nothing more than to rip herself out of his hold and run to the farthest reaches of the earth to be away from him.
“Of course not.” He repeated smiling into her neck placing a kiss there. “My sweet darling.” His arms tightened around her possessively. “What are you reading, my love?”
“The Yellow Wallpaper.” She informed him eyes fixed on the cover of the book ignoring the frown that marred his features.
“That’s not a pleasant book, my darling. I don’t want you reading things like this.” He plucked the book from her grasp flinging it over on to the couch.
Of course he wouldn’t want her reading it. It was depicted a woman locked away by her husband to slowly go mad with only the peeling yellow wallpaper to keep her company. Granted her prison was much nicer than the room the poor lady in the book was locked away in, but it was a prison none the less. She had to wonder though why Jin had the book at all when he was so against her reading it.  He was meticulous enough to make sure everything in his home was “appropriate” for her. It was hard to think that this book had escaped his notice.
“There are far more pleasant books to read. Wouldn’t you rather read something more pleasant?” He coaxed nuzzling into her again. “I have such a wonderful selection of books in the solar.”
“Of course.” She agreed keeping herself calm despite how her heart was pounding against her chest. “I’ll run up and grab something different.” She offered with a strained smile as she began to extricate herself from Jin’s lap only to be pulled back.
“Leaving so soon, darling?” He purred into her ear grip tightening around her as he trailed his nose up her neck to place a kiss just below her ear.
“I was going to get a different book.” She murmured her voice trembling slightly as she forced the panic down.
Jin had slowly been becoming more and more touchy as the days went by. He always wanted to be in contact with her. He was always looking for an opportunity to brush his hand against the small of her back or the curve of her hip. He’d been placing kisses against her neck, her cheeks, her forehead. He had tried for her lips as well, but so far she had always been quick enough to turn her head before he could. She knew very well what he was leading up to. She wasn’t naïve despite how Jin treated her. She was trying her best to keep him at bay, but there was only so much she could do against him, and she was running out of time. Jin would only put up with her evasions for so long. He was not a patient man.
He hummed noncommittally his thumb rubbing circles into her hip as he kept her anchored against him. “I think I prefer you staying here with me.”
She took a deep breath to steady herself as she prepared to coddle him. She found that coddling him as she did at the office was the best way to deal with him, and she was nothing if not a master at coddling Kim Seokjin. She did her best to keep him at a distance, but just as she was a master of coddling Jin, Jin was a master of derailing her plans. He was excellent at getting under her skin, of finding new ways to force her just where he wanted her. It was always a gamble on whether or not she would be successful in redirecting him. At the office, Jin had to behave. Here, there were no such restrictions on his behavior.
“Jin,” She began making her tone as sweet and syrupy as she could. He preferred it when she was sweet. “I’m sure the office is missing you. Maybe you should check in, and I’ll grab a new book, something more pleasant. We can have tea afterwards.” She offered as sweetly as she could. He didn’t need to know that she would slip poison in his tea if given the chance.  
He frowned at her tightening his hold on her hip. “Darling,” He purred his tone sweet, seductive, but his eyes were dark and cold. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
She froze, her hands beginning to shake. “Of course not, Jin.”
His grip tightened further becoming painful. She was sure he was going to leave a bruise, just one more to add to the growing collection littering her body.
His sigh was filled with disappointment as he began to tutt at her. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. Why do you insist on lying to me, darling?”
She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her. “Jin.” She pleaded trying to wiggle her way out of his grasp, but he held her still.
“Haven’t I been good to you, darling?” He turned her chin to look at him enjoying the way she trembled under his gaze. “Why must you continue to be difficult?”  
“Jin,” She whimpered again trying very hard to remain calm.
“I’ve been patient, darling. I thought a little time would help you adjust, but you continue to defy me. I didn’t want to do this.” He sighed again. “I really didn’t.”
“Jin, please.” She pleaded trying to push his hand away from her face. “Please.”
He nudged her up keeping a firm hand on her so she couldn’t escape. “You just don’t learn, darling.”
“Jin.”
“No, darling.” He purred standing and pulling her up with him. “You had your chance.”
She choked back a sob as Jin dragged her upstairs to their bedroom. She struggled against him the whole way trying to pull herself free, to fun. She couldn’t get out. She knew that, but maybe she could hide. It was a foolish plan really. Hiding would only serve to anger Jin more, but she wasn’t thinking logically. She was thinking of self-preservation.
It wasn’t hard for Jin to man handle her. He was stronger than her, and he had the stubborn belief that he was doing this for her own good on his side. Everything he did, he did for her, for them. He wanted a life with her, but she seemed determined to be a brat, to ruin all of his carefully laid plans. But if she was going to act like a brat, Jin was going to treat her like one.
“Now, darling.” He growled pinning her down to the bed as he began to strip her. “Don’t fight me. You’ll only make this worse for yourself.”
He soon had her down to only her panties as he sat on top of her stomach. He grinned in triumph as he pinned her hands above her head. Now that he had her where he wanted her, Jin wasted no time in tying her up. He wanted her still and vulnerable before him, and Jin always got what he wanted. He had hoped to use the silk ties under more pleasurable circumstances, but she needed a lesson.
“Now, be a good girl for me, darling.” He cooed placing a kiss to the valley between her breasts before he left her on the bed.
When he returned it was with a wicked looking whip in his hands. Jin was nothing if not extravagant in anything that he did. This was no exception. The crop itself was made out of a sleek dark wood ending in a polished silver handle. But the other end held a short but thick braided leather rope that looked as though it was made to inflict pain. The entire thing had an antique feel to it, elegant, refined, and decidedly wicked looking.
He sighed looking down at her in disappointment as he rolled his shoulders. “This all could have been so much more pleasurable if you’d only listened to me, darling. Ah well. Another time.”  
“Jin,” She called out her voice warbling as she pleaded with him not to do this.
“Shhhhh, darling. Take your punishment like the good girl I know you are.”
“Jin, please. I’m sorry!” She shrieked as he brought the crop down against her breasts with cruel force.
“I know you are, darling, but things that are hard to bear are sweet to remember.” He brought the crop down again leaving a red welt against the soft skin of her belly. “I’m doing this for you own, good darling.”  Another hit, this time to the flesh of her upper thigh leaving behind another angry red welt in its wake.
Each hit fell swift and harsh against her skin littering her with a constellation of red marks. Some were even beginning to turn sickly shades of purple. When he had deemed her front covered enough, he flipped her over to continue this treatment on her other side. By this time she was sobbing from the pain. Any pleas she attempted to make were lost in tears and shrieks of pain.
To her, it seemed to go on for hours. The hits were endless, and they never seemed to lessen in strength. Each blow was almost worse than the last. Some blows were decidedly worse than others. She always knew when the wip had hit a spot it had marked before.
By the time it was over, she was nothing but a shivering, sniveling mess, but to Jin, she looked beautiful. Some of the hits had broken skin leaving her bloody and bruised before him. He liked seeing her like this, sniveling and submissive before him, but Jin was not stupid. He knew her wounds had to be tended.
He left her tied there as she went to the en suite to collect some ointment and a wet rag to clean her up with. She whined at the contact, but there wasn’t much she could do to escape it. Even though her bonds were soft and silky, they were strong. She had pulled against them during the entirety of her beating, but they had never budged once.
“Hush, darling.” He purred dragging the rag against her skin cleaning up the blood that leaked from some of the welts. “It’s over now. You did so well. Such a good girl for me.”
She hated it. She hated him, but even though she hated him, she found comfort in the soft touches he used to clean up her battered body. After all, he was the only comfort she was going to get. There was no one else there to help her. No one else knew where she was. It was just the two of them in this hell.
Once he was finished cleaning her up and placing a soothing ointment on her injuries, Jin untied her and turned her over slipping her into an oversized hoodie of his. The piece of clothing nearly swallowed her whole, but it was soft and warm. More importantly, it was his. He found he enjoyed her in his clothing. He’d have to dress her in his shirts more often.
He settled on the bed next to her pulling her into his side so she was leaned against his chest. “Be a good girl for me, darling, and we’ll never have to do this again. I promise.” He stroked her hair smiling down at her blissfully. “I love you, my darling.”
If this was love, she didn’t want it.
part 8
204 notes · View notes
love-toxin · 3 years
Text
yandere heart; ashe, wilardo, noel, sirius.
a/n: yandere headcanons for the witch’s heart male cast. 
warnings: spoiler heavy, obsessive love, mild smut elements, blood, character death, criminal coercion, murder, suicide. 
Tumblr media
Ashe
He would never have a bad thing to say about you. And, by extension, nobody else would have the chance to speak badly about you either. 
Before he has the courage to tell you about his feelings, he would seek out comfort in books with characters that remind him of you, especially if they are love interests. Even if there’s a time when he can’t bear to dump his heart out in front of you, he can still fantasize about living your lives side-by-side. 
The main motivation for his love to become an obsession is when he starts to regard you not only as a close friend, but as family. By then, he'll want to stick as closely to your side as possible, and make sure that you never leave his sight lest you be hurt or killed. And his fantasies will start to develop into more intense scenarios--most of them being how you’ll be married and start a family of your own. 
This, of course, will extend to even personal trips to the bathroom. He won't intrude if you need to use the toilet, but he'll insist on waiting outside the door and keeping guard if you're doing so, as well as when you need to take your bath.  
Unless you're close enough to let him in--in that case, he'll be sure to turn away or busy himself with washing at the sink while you bathe if you're shy. And if you're more comfortable, he'll be eager to sit you between his legs and take your bath together, so that you can wash each other's hair and lather the spots on your backs that neither of you can reach. He’ll absolutely take the chance to tickle you, too--and you’ll probably have to endure a bit of shouting from Sirius if he hears you “roughousing” together in the baths. 
He won’t kill you if you try to leave him--but he will get close. The tip of his knife might waver against your neck for a few moments before he pulls himself out of his fury, and your tears will bring him back to reality so he can comfort you in his arms, despite being the one to terrify you in the first place. 
However, if he were pushed to the very brink, and he was sure that he could get ahold of the heart, that might be the one time that he’d sacrifice you in order to further his plans. He’d despise himself for it if he used your death to cover his tracks, but surely when he gets the heart he can bring you back along with everyone else. That would be the thought that comforts him right up until he has the heart in his blood-covered hands. 
Perhaps, if he’s bored or he thinks you need some training, he might steal you from your bed in the night and strap you to a chair in his room. Until the wee hours of the morning he’ll pace around you, knife in hand, wondering aloud what he should punish you with for being so difficult. Maybe he'll cut you and blame it on your own clumsiness, maybe he'll leave some burns and say it was an accident...maybe he'll break one of your ankles and convince the others it was a bad fall down the stairs, before scooping you up the next day and keeping you in his room to tend to your wounds. 
It would be a mistake not to realize that he's completely sadistic, and wants nothing more than to keep you under his thumb and manipulate you until he can call it love. You can't die on his watch, but you're not going to live without him either--and you can be sure that you'll be helping him to obtain the Witch's Heart, even when you realize where it is. 
He'll kill everyone if it means he'll keep you safe. But honestly, he'd do it without that prompt too. You're his accomplice in life, death, and love--and even if you say no, he’ll still have time after time after time to try it all again, even if he doesn’t realize it.
Tumblr media
Wilardo
If he didn't care about you, he wouldn't push you away so vehemently. He knows he loves you from the start, which is why he refuses to get close to you in the beginning. 
However, he does want to know your business. All of it.
If he doesn’t find you in your room or his, he’ll go looking for you until he does. He’ll rifle through your things, read your diary, and even take possession of your room keys so he has complete control over when you leave, and even where you go and what you do. Any time you wish to return to your room, you’ll have to ask him first--and if you oppose, he’ll just shoot the lock off your door so you won’t have the choice to keep him out. 
If you aren’t already staying in his room, you might even awaken to find him in bed with you, his body nestled into yours from behind as he quietly breathes against the back of your neck. And if you move around enough so that he knows you’re awake, he’ll tease you endlessly with a rare playfulness, and fiddle with the hem of your clothing like he might tug on it before leaving it be. 
Speaking of which, as much as he'd loathe to do so, he'll threaten you with his gun if you start getting especially confrontational with him. He wouldn't kill you for no reason, but that doesn't mean he won't tell you he will--he finds it a bit more effective if he threatens to blow his own brains out, however. You'll always come crawling back with sympathy if he does that, so he tries to keep those particular threats to the bare minimum in case it loses effectiveness. 
His pace will change if you figure out the truth, however. If by some fluke you find the guts to try and kill him while he's sleeping or not paying attention, he'll lose any shred of self-restraint he had once kept around you. Besides, once you watch him rise from his place after you've stabbed him in the neck, or shot him point blank, or poisoned his drink, there's very little chance that you'll have any more courage left. 
He'll find somewhere dark, and quiet, and cramped to keep you for awhile until you learn your lesson. During this time, he'll force you to care for him and dress his wounds even if he has to hold his gun to your head the whole time, and will relish in the way you tremble when he asks you to kiss him better. 
If he ever feels as though he needs to make amends, he’ll offer you some flowers. Specific ones, of course, all plucked and pruned by his hands--he doesn’t really care for the allure of it, but he knows it will touch your heart as it does all foolish, romantic people. He could even turn it into a pavlov effect, and manipulate you so thoroughly that you’ll already feel some dreaded sympathy when he pulls out a rose or leaves a bouquet by your bedside table. 
He'd kill both Sirius and Ashe without hesitation to further his goals, or to protect your life if it came down to it. Though, when he finally realizes where the heart is, he’ll turn his sights towards you and bring about your end himself.
It’s one of very few times that he’ll be comforting, gentle, even sweet--in your last moments he’ll try to keep his plan to himself, and will hold you close and soothe you with kisses and reassurance while you cry. He’ll relish in the lovely sight for a short while before he finally puts a bullet in the back of your skull, and makes his wish as soon as he can afterwards, so you won’t have to spend even a spare few moments apart as he follows your lead. 
Tumblr media
Noel
There’s nothing he wants more than to save you. From the monsters, from the truth, from him--from everything. If he could make his wish come true, he would ask that you just be happy and safe. 
He's kept up by thoughts of you all the time, however not all of them are necessarily pure. In fact, it wouldn’t be untrue to say that when he’s alone, he struggles not to consider all the things he could do to you if it were just you and him in the mansion. 
Despite this, he'll never have the courage to kiss you first, or even initiate anything beyond perhaps holding your hand, or cuddling. If you want affection from him then you'll have to ask, or initiate it yourself, to which he'll never refuse. 
He’s not nearly as manipulative as the others, but he won’t necessarily let you off the hook easy either--if he senses other people getting close to you, he’ll spy on them and even gently interrogate them about their intentions, if not urge you to stay in his room during the night so he can keep an eye on you while you rest. Even if he doesn’t suspect any of them will kill you that time, it’s still a valid excuse for him to watch you sleep and fantasize about every little thing he loves about you.
In this realm, too, he won’t stop himself from giving you dreams every so often. They’re always happy ones, and he always manages to insert himself into them, even to chase away your nightmares. Most times, he uses it just to spend some peaceful time with you...but there are times that he takes it a step further, and takes them to a much lewder place if you allow him to go there. And the morning after those ones, he’ll always be locked in his bathroom and insist that you go to breakfast without him. 
It's only because of you that he keeps the cycle going over and over and over again--as much as it pains him to see the others rip each other to bits, and the demons revel in the bloodshed, he just can't let you go. The guilt of keeping you from living your life just can't overwhelm the needy, aching love he has in his heart for you. 
And as he gets weaker, and the monsters become more dangerous, he’ll struggle to keep the routine going day after day. He can’t stave off his fate forever, but he finds comfort in the few moments of peace that he’s always been fighting for, in between the fighting and killing and the times that you’ve gotten caught in the crossfire. 
Speaking of which, Noel’s kills have all occurred solely because of those incidents. Wilardo eliminated you for getting in the way, Ashe silenced you so you wouldn’t warn the others about his crimes, Sirius spilled your guts when you found out too much...every time he witnesses it, it’s even harder than the last. 
But those stories are the ones the demons love the most, when they get to watch him tearing through the mansion to punish your killers, and eviscerating all that stand in his way. He’ll never be proud of it, especially not the rare times when he’s had the chance to prevent it, and enacts his vengeance in front of your pure, soulful eyes. But if it’s necessary, he’ll do it a thousand times more. 
Even if it stands against his own morals, he’ll resort to nearly any means if it involves you and your safety--and to preserve your happiness, even if he knows that he can’t ever make it last forever, no matter how many times he tries. 
Tumblr media
Sirius
Pleasing you is not just an option, it's his absolute duty. Even if the residual effect is due to his servitude to Dorothy, he still wishes to fulfill all of your needs with no help--or interference--from anybody else. As far as he’s concerned, the only person in the world that you need is him. 
He will ask you to do some chores as he does the others, but he will push you away to take over himself when you've barely even started. Rarely is it because you're incompetent--it's mostly just an attempt to stroke his ego and show you how skilled he is. 
Oh, you’ll also be confined to his bedroom for the entirety of your stay in the mansion. There’s no extra rooms, he insists, at least not any that have the protection symbol to keep the monsters at bay--and besides, as long as you’re his, you won’t be spending much time apart anyways. 
You’ll have no affection from him if you get on his bad side, however, which may be a blessing or a curse. It’s sparing in the first place if you aren’t in the privacy of his room, and if you piss him off or say something he disagrees with, he’ll ignore you completely until you “come to your senses” and apologize. 
This also applies to a lesser extent when you distract him from working. He might raise his voice or snap at you for doing so, though he softens up much quicker, and can be soothed with some sweet words and a kiss or two. 
And if those kisses ever turn into something more, he’ll do his best to convince you that he’s not as filthy-minded as you seem to assume. He swears he won’t stoop to that kind of behavior with other people about--but he’ll say nothing about what will happen when they leave, except that you should get comfortable with sharing his bed for awhile. 
He'll also force you to keep his charms on you at all times, and will paste them in various places in his room just as an added measure. One of the few times he'll use them in combat is if you're with him, too--if he can't get any of the others to dispatch the monsters out of your way, then he'll begrudgingly do it himself. 
He'd kill Ashe more times than not. If there’s anyone he can’t trust, it’s him--and you’ll always be the reason for it. He just can’t afford to allow someone so sinister to roam the mansion freely, and if he has to do it in front of you, then so be it. You can hate him as much as you want, but he’ll want you to do so while you’re still alive. 
But again, there will be so many times that Ashe gets you first, and sometimes Wilardo as well. As much as Sirius curses his own weakness, it never stings quite as badly as when his neck is sliced open, and he dies begging his killer to spare you while knowing that they won’t. Or worse, finding your corpse and cursing out everyone else in a rage, only to be taken to the grave next and have his body thrown carelessly atop your own. Even if he won’t remember it the next time, it doesn’t make him any less obsessed with keeping all other threats away from you. 
But if you have to go to hell, then he’ll follow you even there. There’s no question about granting a wish, or clinging to the past--you belong to him, and wherever you are, he’ll force himself to be so that he can keep hold of the only thing he’s ever truly loved. 
129 notes · View notes
abyssthepansexual · 3 years
Text
Aizawa x son reader turned villain
Plus: best friends Midoriya and Todoroki.
Your Quirk is that you can create flowers and other plants bloom from your hair and arms.
Really long cuz I didn't feel like making multiple parts.
Does abandoning your father and exposing the government count as angst? Or are y'all just badass?
Tumblr media
Your father was protective of you even before your quirk began to show.
He hoped you would have a strong quirk to be able to protect yourself.
He didn't exactly know what to do when he learned his son could sprout flowers wherever he wanted.
He was disappointed but he wouldn't say that out loud.
He just had to make sure you were safe at all times.
Eventually you both learned your quirk could be used for healing. So he had you enroll at UA as a support hero and you spent most of your time with Recovery Girl.
During your time at UA you began spending less time with your father as he became busy with his new students.
You got to know his students more than you would like.
Your father's lessons got them sent to the infirmary more than you'd like.
It only seemed to worsen when the new 1-A came in at the start of the new year with you being a second year.
You respected most of the students, noting their hard work towards the goal of becoming heroes.
But you never really liked any of them simply because they got more of your father's attention.
You admired heroes for saving people, and liked that in some ways you could help the heroes.
You accidentally discovered an antidote to the quirk removing substances that came from the Overhaul incident.
You were the talk of hero society for a while admired for the great feat at such a young age.
But still you didn't have your father's attention.
You never had doubts among heroes until you got to know the truths of the world more.
It started when you started finally talking to two students in your father's class when they were sent into the infirmary.
Todoroki had once explained how he got his scar and why he never wanted to use his fire.
The doubts began to fester.
Then Midoriya came next he told you of his bullying when he was younger and as you became friends he even let you in on the secret of his quirk.
You liked your new friend, but the doubts only grew.
The final breaking point was when you stumbled across a lesser populated district. Abandoned buildings, homeless people who were sick and starving.
You knew you should have gone home to your father and his fiance Hizashi.
But you felt defiance in your veins as you began your work.
For months you used your quirk until you felt like you'd fall apart, earning the trust and reliance of these people abandoned by heroes.
You grew trees for construction, healthier air, and fruits.
With the wood you and the people fixed abandoned homes and made gardens where you used your quirk to aid in the growth of fruits and vegetables that could be sold to buy cattle and other supplies.
You made medicines, hygiene products, and various other items to keep these people going.
Quirk or quirkless you helped them find ways to use their skills to keep things functioning without the help of the government officials or heroes.
You were their hero.
But your exhaustion was showing and your friends were worried.
They had followed you once after you'd missed and entire day of school only to leave with a lot of things they knew you'd made.
"You're amazing, everything you've done here is amazing." Midoriya had told you when they'd found you after asking people about what they knew of you.
Todoroki couldn't find words to say but there was admiration and amazement in his eyes as he watched the work going into your project all around him.
They helped you as well and over the course of time the project would someday be finished and this would be just the start of your new plans.
Midoriya convinced you to bring your father here to show him your great act of heroism.
Your father had been angry.
"It was foolish to come here! Villains are known to frequent these areas!" He had shouted at you.
"Yet I've had no problems, and I'm not going to stop. So if you want no part in it then ignore me and leave! You've always been good at that."
You'd dropped out of UA not long after and stopped coming home. Aizawa had tried searching the town you'd helped but the people said you'd gone after finishing helping them. He had nothing in terms of finding you.
In truth that was a lie you'd come back frequently and actually worked with other districts on repairing their way of living as well.
With the help of people with minor creation and destruction quirks you'd even made a vast underground bunker system welcoming in the homeless, villains, shunned children who had "villainous" quirks, and so many more.
Call it your safe haven so to speak.
"I have a proposal for you." You said to Shigaraki having accidentally met the group when you found them injured after fighting the heroes.
"What is it?" Shigaraki questioned as you patched up his arm.
"I'd like to work with you, I can offer you medical help and supplies, I can also make various poisons and toxins that can be spread through the air. Some can knock people out, make them hallucinate their worst fears, and I recently developed one that can remove people's quirks upon breathing it. I also can promise you followers."
Your offer was a valuable one, one that the LoV would have to be absolute morons to refuse.
Now united with them, and having your people carefully sew doubts amongst the rest of Japan in whispers and rumors, you would destroy the hero world.
Midoriya and Todoroki had come to find you again this time with classmates with them. Your friends went through their own stages of denial and acceptance and convinced others to follow your cause to better society.
After months of enlarging the bunker into what now seemed like an underground city you had enough followers to finally go public and sink your words into the ears of not just Japan but the rest of the world.
After the final month of prep you went live to all of the world translators at the ready. All of your followers knew what was going to happen and sealed themselves away in the bunker.
Exposing the truths of heroes and their secrets, the people they'd tortured or abandoned, ect.
Then at the end of your speech all who weren't in the bunker became exposed to your intoxicated air bombs that had been strategically laid throughout the city. Anyone who hadn't been in the safety of your underground city was now quirkless and that was seen all over the world.
Starting in Japan people rose up to fix the world and soon riots all over the world began following you and the LoV.
The world of the powerful would fall and the people would rise to fix the wrongs.
Heroes and villains will always exist, sometimes the two just get confused with one another and sometimes people need a shive to understand.
History would be mixed in the story that is you.
To some people you are a Hero.
To others you are the villain.
People never quite learned which of those titles you believed you were.
Were you even sure yourself?
All that mattered now was that you knew you had your father's attention, you'd have it for a long time.
After all you were the world's #1 fascination.
50 notes · View notes
cupcakemolotov · 3 years
Text
When Blood Calls for Blood
Hmm. This was supposed to be a mafia story for the AU Season that @klaroline-event is putting on, and instead descended into the depths of blood magic and werewolves, and some horror. Your guess is as good as mine as how that happened. Anyway. Hopefully this still works for Crime week. People ARE murdered.
Here you go. You can read it on A03 if you prefer.
Warnings: Blood Magic, Werewolves, Necromancy, death, some gore but not a lot, discussion about sex but no actual smut in this.
                                                           -
The brandy in her glass was excellent, but she hadn’t expected anything else. Klaus had come a long way from the boy next door with skinned knees and paint smeared fingers. That it’d been nearly a decade since she’d seen him hadn’t changed nearly as much as she’d have liked. Same tumbled curls, same dimples, same charm that lingered like a second skin over the sharper, harder parts of his smile. But now, his thinness had filled out into lean strength and he’d grown into the shape of his nose, the curve of his jaw. 
Caroline hadn’t expected to like the look of him as much as she did after all this time. Had hoped some distance would dull the want that had once lingered between them. She also hadn’t anticipated the way his gaze could still trace against her skin with the same intensity of a touch, but now with a new, markedly adult male appreciation that hinted at all sorts of fun things. Dangerous things, thoughts she’d pushed away much easier with the naivete of a teenager than she was finding herself able to do as a grown woman. 
Klaus had never been easy to ignore.
“Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we?” She asked once he’d leaned a hip against the desk next to him when she’d chosen not to sit. She didn’t know this man as well as she once had and she wasn’t prepared to be that vulnerable. Not yet. “We both know what you sent Elijah to tell me you wanted. I want to know why you think I should go along with it.”
A hint of a smile curved his lips. There was a strange sort of affection in his gaze which surprised her, in this childhood home of his, this house of horrors that had birthed monsters. She wished Enzo was there, to tell them if there were ghosts. If the rotting bones of Mikael beneath their feet still suffered.
“I’ve missed your directness, love. Most people are too afraid of me to try it.” His lashes lowered for a heartbeat, and his voice deepened. “And far too terrified to offer such blatant disapproval.”
Caroline gave him an unconcerned look. “I agreed  to this meeting because we were once friends. Not because I bought into the spiel that Elijah was selling. I walked away from this kind of life, and I had very good reasons to do so. You know that.”
A flash of something wolf-yellow glimmered faintly at the edges of his gaze, but she didn’t flinch. Klaus was dangerous. So very, very dangerous. Here, in Mystic Falls where they’d both spent their childhoods, it was almost possible to forget the lessons Chicago and New York had already learned. But Caroline had learned to deal with Klaus and his caustic mix of power and temper years earlier. A little of the wolf wasn’t enough to warn her off. 
Though it did intrigue her. Before, his control had been something held together by tenterhooks, his rage palpable. She had wondered if he’d buried it deep in his bones, left it to fester in muscle and marrow, but that glimmer told her he’d made a different choice. 
She was glad.
“Blood calls to blood, love.” There was something in his voice, a note that was sharp and apologetic both. “And you are Bill Forbes daughter.”
Caroline wrinkled her nose at the reminder. “I’m going to need more brandy if that's the angle you're taking. Thankfully, he only provided half my genetics, and none of my looks.”
The hard line of his shoulders eased, her words answering some unspoken question. “I know.”
Her expression sharpened. She did not like that he was able to read her so well. “If you’re not going to get to the point, I will leave.”
His laugh was soft, and unexpected. And it did nothing to lessen her mad. Reaching up, he briefly rubbed his neck and when his gaze returned to hers. The blue was gone, awash with gold and wolf. Inexplicably, her own tension gave, if just a little. She might no longer know the man, but she understood the wolf. 
“Elijah says you are well informed of my ongoings.”
She rolled her eyes. “As if that’s hard. A werewolf with the bad taste to be born to a witch, and who the poor manners of eating other witches is not, exactly, an unknown creature in the local gossip. Mystic Falls does so love it’s little horrors. It’s not like it’s hard to figure out where you’re going or where you’ve been.”
His dimples creased his cheeks. “That’s true. And yet, here you are.”
The implied threat was said teasingly. Caroline deliberately took a sip of her brandy. “If your wolf had wanted me dead, it would have made the attempt that when I was thirteen and tossed you three pine trees to save Enzo. If the man had wanted me dead, Elijah would never have sworn a binding saying this meeting was done in truce.” Her smile was sharp. “At least not knowingly. My magic is not kind when it comes to broken vows, and he hates me.”
His gaze narrowed at the blunt reminder, but his voice held no hint of anger. Just a hunting triumph. “I found Rebekah.”
And everything snapped into place. Setting her glass down, she stared at him. “And Elijah couldn't have led with that?”
“He doesn’t know.”
“He doesn’t…” Caroline stared at him for a long moment before tossing back her drink and moving towards one of the chairs. Ten years. It’d been ten years, and she understood everything those words meant. “Fine. I’ll bite. What is going on?”
To her surprise, he chose the chair next to her. His gaze holding hers, he deliberately tipped his knee lightly against her own. “Rebekah is in New Orleans.”
Her brows furrowed and her words were honest as she tried to ignore the feel of him against her. That sparking challenge in his eyes. “But you looked there years ago.”
That slow, thoughtful smile curled on his face again and she wished she hadn’t finished the brandy. “You have been tracking me.”
Caroline sighed and for the first time, looked away. She did not want to speak of the need to know he was still alive, to trust that he’d find some kind of reason after the death of his step-father. The wolf could have easily poisoned the man with its hate as the man could have destroyed the wolf with its rage.
“My father… the things he did.” Her words died and she shrugged. “I miss her too.”
They were survivors, her and Klaus. Enzo and Rebekah, though they were missing. Witchborn and powerful, they were the last remnants of bloodlines and blood feuds that should have never existed. Klaus, with his wolf and his rage. Enzo, with his affinity for the dead and his wicked sense of humor. Rebekah, the living embodiment of her mother’s hopes and wishes, but without the same darkness. And she? She was her father’s daughter, for all the Liz Forbes had done her best to temper it. 
“Then you’ll help me.”
And that blatant satisfaction, the roughness of his wolf in his voice warned her that he thought he had won. She let her gaze return Klaus’ face, and the force of temper clashed against his. She did not like being boxed in. He needed to remember that. “Will I? What I owed you was a blood debt and that was paid in full. What my family did to yours was terrible, but what Esther did to my mother was also terrible. There are no debts between us, not anymore.”
Enzo might argue that point, but her wiley best friend had been missing nearly as long as Rebekah. 
“You’ll help me,” Klaus repeated, unbothered by her irritation. Her temper, the surge of power that came with it, had always bothered him as little as his wolf had unnerved her. “And in turn, I will help you.”
“And what,” Caroline drawled, “do I need your help with? I’m perfectly capable of burying bodies on my own these days.” She wiggled her manicured fingers. “I don’t even have to break a nail to do it.”
That flicker of affection again, tempered by determination. He reached for an envelope that sat on the edge of his desk and handed it to her. “I’d have helped you regardless, but this might make things more comfortable between us.”
She snorted even as she opened the envelope to pull out a single sheet. “Things have never been particularly comfortable between us at all.”
Caroline ignored the deeply satisfied noise he made and looked at the picture. Enzo’s face, battered, bruised, stared up at her and she went motionless at the tangle of anger and fear that swept through her. “How…”
She’d looked. 
“It took finding Rebekah.” A bitterness in his voice she understood. “And once I did, I knew where to look. The scattered pieces of our past are not easy things, love.”
Mute with rage, she glanced back at him. 
“When the Witch Council attempted to end the feud between our families, they were not prepared for the realities of what that would mean.” His teeth gleamed behind his lips. “They were ill prepared for our families' hate, I imagine our cooperation never occurred to them.”
Caroline snorted. They should have been prepared for all of it. Feuding witches were no small thing. Though in her more charitable moments, she allowed that some things just could not have been foreseen. Not the fallout from Ester’s affair, not Bill’s jealousy, not Mikael’s malice. 
Rebekah should have been safe. They should have all been safe. None of them had been. 
“They should have done better.”
His smile held teeth. “Yes.”
It had been her and Enzo, who had held Mikael with their magic while Klaus had shifted to wolf to rip his step-father apart. Enzo, who had commanded the dead man to dig his own grave in the study Mikael had been so fond of. Later, Klaus had opened a bottle of expensive bourbon and they had gotten drunk listening to the sound of a shovel moving dirt.
It had taken hours to repair the foundation with magic.
Mystic Fall was full of so many nightmares. 
Her gaze returned to the picture in her hands. And something turned cold and brittle in her chest. “That is the symbol of St. Augustine.”
“Yes.”
She stood then and paced toward the window. When she spoke, her words trembled with magic. Behind her, the desk shuddered. She hadn’t been this close to losing her temper since the day she walked into her home to find it smelling of blood and her mother’s death. Had found what she had been meant to see. 
 “The Augustine Society belongs to the Witch Council.” Her fists clenched. “And have Enzo.”
She knew the Augustine Society. The horrors the Witch Council offered them. She knew, because her father had also belonged to that society before blood madness had taken him. And they had possibly the greatest necromancer of her generation, trapped. 
Fingertips brushed lightly down the bare nap of her neck. The touch was possessive, careful. An old trick, to anchor her. It made it no less personal. “So it is.”
Caroline closed her eyes. She hadn’t heard him move. “What did my father do, that you cannot claim your sister?”
“It’s a blood bind. I cannot break it.”
“No,” she murmured, letting the soft touches of his fingertips focus her. “You wouldn’t be able too.”
“But you can.” His words were lethal in their softness, coaxing in their delivery. “You're more powerful.”
“Flattery,” she said. Then she sighed. “But you’re not wrong. Still, the witches of New Orleans will never allow me into their city.”
They’d never allow Liz Forbes' daughter in their heart of power. The thought brought a faint smile to her lips. So strange, for a city to fear her mother’s blood.
Strange, but not unwise.
“I didn’t plan on asking permission.”
She turned to face him then, letting the window at her spine hold her weight and studied his face. Such arrogance, but not unwarranted. A full coven might face the nightmare he gave shape too with his bones, but perhaps not. Klaus had cut quite a swath through the witch families in the US. 
His mother’s perfect monster. 
“A blood bind will not be easy to break, not after so many years since it was cast.” She considered what it meant, how far gone her father had been in his madness. “I will likely need a sacrifice, and that is a magic I have sworn not to use lightly.”
“You won’t fall to the same madness.” The assurance in his voice was so, so arrogant. “I will not allow it.”
Caroline gave a bark of laughter. “You cannot know that, cannot expect to dictate such a thing.”
“But I can,” he disagreed. “I’ve seen your magic, Caroline. I’ve witnessed the price of it, the horror of it, and justice of it. Esther’s death was not easy. I know what you are.”
“Ester deserved more,” she said. “But we work with what we have. And I am no longer, sixteen, Klaus. What anchored me as a teenager will not work for the adult.”
Then it’d had been enough to cling to his wolf. To bury her face and hands in the thick pelt of his fur while she rode out the drowning horror, the unrelenting ecstasy of her magic, to let the sensation of fur on skin be the distraction from the siren call of endless power. The blood she wore on her skin.
She’d always liked his wolf. 
Blood magic was dangerous. And witches who practiced it always, always lost themselves. Caroline’s father had been no exception. She would likely not be either. Thankfully, she wasn’t just her father’s daughter. 
“And what,” Klaus asked lightly, eyes deepening to the blue of the man, something as dark as the working of her magic coloring his voice. “Do you need?”
Her nails dug into her palms and she lifted her chin. “What are you offering?”
Klaus’ head lowered until his nose nearly brushed hers, his mouth tantalizing close to hers. “Anything you want.”
Her teeth sank briefly into her lip and she sighed. “We both know how my father chose to feed his need and how well that worked for him.”
Satisfaction and a want so blatant and greedy on his face, she struggled to suck in her next breath. “Steven knew what he was doing when he agreed to join your father’s bed. He was aware of the risks. So am I.”
Her voice shook only a little when she spoke. “Rebekah’s temper is no small thing, Klaus. If she wakes up to me fucking her brother, I don’t think she’s going to be pleased.” 
His hand lifted to curve along her jaw, thumb brushing tantalizing across her lips. “Elijah can secure Bekah, once she is free.”
And Elijah would just love that. “So you are planning on telling him you found her.”
“Of course,” he agreed. “Both he and Kol will be needed for this. Even if only a mirage, we must show the world where our loyalties lie.”
Caroline winced. “They still haven’t forgiven you for not kiling me, then.”
When Elijah had appeared at her home to request her presence for this meeting, she’d almost hoped. 
“As they are not strong enough to oppose me, their opinions of your magic do not matter.” His jaw tightened. “From either side of your family.”
“Klaus…” She caught his hand. “They are not wrong. Blood magic is an abomination, not counting what my mother left me with her death. Killing me would likely make the world a better place.” 
His eyes flared with his wolf, and his words were near violent with intensity. “I disagree. Am I too, not an abomination? You protested quite viciously when my mother attempted to do just that.”
His voice sounded the same as it always had, when he spoke of her murdering his mother. Delighted satisfaction with a hint of growl.
Caroline rolled her lip tightly between her teeth. This was what her mother had never understood. What Esther had miscalculated. This tugging in her chest, as she thought about a world without Klaus. The way he dared her with his eyes and his worlds to repeat herself, to suggest he would allow the world to exist without her. The thing that had left her walking away from him, uncertain what lengths she could allow herself to go to preserve it. 
The boy who had painted her flowers and the man who understood the depth of what she could become, what she feared. 
But he’d found Rebekah. Enzo.
“You understand that if I agree to this, it won’t end with rescuing Rebekah and Enzo,” she said slowly. Likely wouldn’t end with her willing to walk away from him a second time, and the bloody future that promised. “I’m not that forgiving. If the Augustine Society was part of this, if they supported my father? Enzo will want them dead and so will I.”
“Oh, sweetheart, as if I’d object.” His mouth curved. “But why stop there? Not when we both know the Witch Council had to be involved.”
So much destruction. So much blood. Carefully, she reached up with her free hand and traced the shape of his mouth while he went carefully motionless. “It would be helpful, if the sacrifice had a tie to Bekah.”
His lips pursed against her fingers for a moment before he moved just enough to respond. “The Salvatore’s are in New Orleans.”
And that terrible anger, that thirst she’d managed to choke into behaving for ten years unfurled in her chest. “What a coincidence.”
And Klaus, whose monster knew her own, just smiled. “Isn’t it just?”
“How are you planning on explaining my presence in New Orleans?”
Mischief, sudden and startling, crossed his face. “The witches can hardly object to my bringing a date to Mardi Grais. The same as I have done for the past four years, in fact.”
Caroline blinked, and tried not to think about the twist of jealousy in her gut. “I am not pretending to be in a relationship with you.”
“Who said anything about pretending?” His eyes laughed at her but his words were serious. “Shouldn’t you take a man to dinner before post ritual sex?”
She glowered at him, just to be contrary. “No.”
He shrugged, unperturbed.“We’re still sharing a room.”
She choked on a sudden laugh, at how easy and playful he made this. As they weren’t courting madness and the wrath of the council as they freed their family. As if everything was just a matter of them going out and conquering their enemies with his teeth and their magic. 
Simple, really. 
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Caroline questioned. “This… this will change everything.”
Klaus lowered his head, pressing his forehead to hers and smiled, dimples bracketing a smile made of sin and blood lust that struck her in her chest. The smile of a predator well satisfied.
“Yes, I think it will.”
35 notes · View notes