#WHAT ABOUT PEOPLE WHO FORGET WHERE ALL THE HIDDEN CHESTS AND SIDE QUESTS ARE AND HAVE TO RE-FIND THEM EVERY TIME | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

enmy-writes · 3 years

Text

Just Let Me Help You

Summary: Zuko, trying to keep is girlfriend safe, unintentionally gains the trust of the Gaang after a showdown with Combustion Man.

Word Count: 2728

Fandom: ATLA (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Pairing: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Genre: Mostly fluff, is fluff-angst a thing? Idk guys I’m soft, you tell me.

Rated: 18+

Content Warnings: Profanity, some gore graphics (brief mentions of blood, killing, murder), uhhhh that’s it I think I’m sorry if I forget anything else.

****Huge shout-out to my friends Kenz and Jenna for editing this and hyping me up. Hopefully, since this semester from Hell will be over soon, I’ll be able to write more. Please request things! Thank-you all for supporting this and let me know more of what you want to see in the future :) Also, feedback is always welcome. Enjoy!****

_____________________________________________________________________

They had landed the war balloon days ago, stalking the tired and defeated Team Avatar and trying to figure out how the complicated Fire Prince would convince the people he chased for months that he wants to help them now.

(Y/N) was stoking the hot flame provided by the fire bender, making sure the coals were burning a cherry red before she added leaves and herbs into a pot to make a stew for the two to enjoy. Her eyes followed Zuko as he paced back and forth, practicing what he was going to say when he finally decided to confront the rebel group, lips turned upward in an amused smirk.

“Hey, Zuko here…” she heard him say before he started rambling a bunch of nonsense about his past; from his discovery, to Azula, to his father-- all the tragic topics. It took him about three minutes, but he finished with a hopeful look in his direction.

“Well?!” He clenched his fists at his side in a nervous gesture, only wanting to get this right.

The girl on the log cleared her throat before speaking, obviously hiding her laughter from the sensitive boy. “Well… it’s perfect. I especially liked the ‘Hey, Zuko here’ part. I’m sure that Aang and his friends with be very pleased to finally learn your name instead of thinking you’re called ‘Angry Ponytail Hotman’.’’

He groaned loudly, rubbing his eyes with clenched fists. The melodic laughter from his companion tempted him to give up his quest and just run away with her and live a happy life free of his father and his destiny… whatever that may be.

Still laughing, (Y/N) stood from her log by the fire and made her way to Zuko, coming up behind him. Her arms slid right around his slim body, holding on tight as she tried to pull his mind from the depths of his insecurities.

“Zuko, love.” Her voice is soft, but intense. “Just go down there. I won’t lie, they might not take you right away. You have done a lot of damage to them and their goals.”

His warm hands slide down the tops of her forearms and slide between her chilled fingers, entwining them together as Zuko grips her like she’s holding him down on the land they’re on.

“I… I just…” He struggles to get his feelings out, finding it hard to convey how he feels even to the girl wrapped around him.

She shushes him. “I know.” Is all she says, as they stand there in a momentary comfortable silence before she detaches from him to continue dinner.

____________________________

Zuko had told her to stay behind, that he’d be back to either get her or because he failed to convince the group that he came to support them, instead of harm them.

“Zuko! I could easily be an alibi for you. A reason for them to trust you!”

“No. End of story. They could attack me and you’re in Fire Nation clothes. You’re staying here.”

A staring match between the two only lasted a few seconds, but (Y/N) let it go; remembering Iroh’s advice that sometimes the boy has to do what eases his mind to grow.

The empty pot gleamed an orange glow from the flames, a light in the dark woods that surrounded the two as they lounged by the fire.

(Y/N) was carding her fingers through the upset prince’s hair while he stared at the sky; confused. His emotions spilling onto (Y/N). He didn’t talk much about the encounter, only enough to tell her that they wouldn’t be helping the Avatar defeat his father anytime soon. Rather than pressure him, she offered her solace with calming actions rather than words.

The two had met in their early childhood, (Y/N)’s father being the leader of the Yuyan Archers and of course the Fire Lord wanted the talented girl to meet his… troubled son. In hope that she could help bend his son into the ruthless leader the nations needed to proceed him. Though they didn’t see each other as much as they should have due to (Y/N)’s schooling, the two quickly became close friends and were often found with Lady Ursa quietly running around the palace grounds.

His banishment led to (Y/N) perfecting her skills, and becoming the master she was destined to be, given there was no more distraction. No one could understand her in the way that Zuko did— they fit together like they were made for one another. Where he was hotheaded, she was cool; Where he was nimble and direct, she was resourceful and hidden. The two were the perfect set of opposites who ultimately balanced each other. And one without the other was a heartbreak everyone could see.

When she heard the news of his return, she rushed to the palace; radiant as ever. In an instant, the two fell back into where they left off; barely any words needed between the two. Her fingers and lips had trailed over his scar often in those few days, brushing away the tears and insecurities that came with it.

Leaving the Fire Nation with Zuko wasn’t even a debate in her mind. She was tired of the life of lies and torment that her nation inflicted upon the world. She had spent the last two years relocating and rebranding people who were targets to the Fire Nation. In total, about one hundred innocent lives were saved from her dangerous missions. Her skill level was better than even her father’s, and she prided herself in her abilities. (Y/N) was truly a professional in her art with the eye of an eagle.

When she caught Zuko writing a letter to her with packed bags on his bed, she instantly went into the shadows and caught up with the boy easily, hiding in the balloon behind the engine for a while until it was too late for him to turn back. It was hot and the most uncomfortable thing she has ever done, but she regrets none of it. She joked with the boy; how did he not question a pile of fabric behind the piece of equipment that holds fire? She let it go after he hugged her close and cried for a while.

“Don’t do that shit again, Zuko.” Her voice was stern, though her voice stern, she held him close. She ghosted her fingers over his tense shoulders; the shoulder that carried such burdens. She pressed her fingers into his shoulders; trying her best to rub the tension from his body.

“I won’t. Never again. Don’t leave me, I need you.”

A rustle of leaves and broken trees in the forest near the edge of their little camp put the two into defense, instantly gripping her perfectly crafted bow and quiver. Her ears pricked at a slight movement and she aimed her bows in the direction of the noise without even looking. Suddenly, green clothes fill the area as a younger girl makes her way into the clearing. Startled, Zuko sends a wave of fire towards the intruder, burning the girl.

Everything happened fast.

(Y/N)’s left foot—her plant foot—sunk into the ground and twisted inward, releasing a loud crack into the air. The Earth girl was long gone now; Zuko had been screaming at himself when he heard the cry of pain and the sickening noise that left the lips of his girlfriend.

The earth has released its hold on her, but the damage was done. She kneeled, trying to hold back tears but failing as they kept streaming down her face in a pain response. Zuko’s own eyes filled with tears as he ran over to her, helping her sit down and take the tension off of it.

The joint was already beginning to swell, black and blue and purple and yellow starting to show up in swirls around the area. Zuko carefully tried to feel the injury, barely touching the girl in fear of hurting her more. (Y/N) sighed, pushing his fingers away and ignoring his protest. She rotated her foot outward, cringing at the pain, but crying out when she turned it the other way. Zuko cupped his hands around her ankle, hands heated slightly to hopefully alleviate the pain.

“Baby… it’s okay—”

“No, you’re hurt! I knew this would happen!” He cuts her off with a panicked yell. (Y/N) places her hands on the sides of his face, forcing his eyes upon hers with a slight wince of discomfort.

“It’s most definitely, at worst, a fracture. I can still move it outwards without a lot of pain. It’s, like, a week off my foot at most and then another week with a splint and a crutch. I am okay, Zuko.” They stared at each other for a solid minute, saying nothing.

"Promise?" Zuko whispered.

"You think I would lie to you, Zuko?" She says as she wraps her pinky his for good measure

They turn in not too long after, (Y/N)’s ankle wrapped up in some extra clothes for stability. Zuko’s arms hold her to his chest as they slip off into the world of dreams.

_________________________

Oh shit. She thought from her perch on top of the cliff edge. The assassin that they have also been trying to find has been blowing up the place, really testing the stability of the edge of the cliff in shakes after shakes like an earthquake. Zuko had told her to stay at camp, but unfortunately for Zuko; (Y/N) was never that good at listening to commands.

She was sitting down, watching the Avatar, his friends, and her boyfriend try to figure out how to win this fight against the combustion bender, feet dangling over the edge. She didn’t want any pressure on her foot from standing on it; settling for the dull throbs of pain coming from the force of gravity alone.

Some third eye. (Y/N) thought to herself as she watched her boyfriend get too close to being blown off the edge of the cliff, wincing. She quickly strung her bow, aiming it at the man. She smirked, a devious smirk, and aimed it in a precise location.

Zuko was still trying to talk the man out of it when suddenly, his eyes went blank and the grossest sound he has ever heard reached his ears. Everyone watched the man, confused as to why he just stopped. It’s not until red trails down his forehead and around his nose in a slow trickle that they look at his eye.

In the middle of the red eye, that at one point seemed indestructible; an arrow sat; a perfect shot — his perfect shot. "Bullseye!" (Y/N) howled, her voice resonating in his ears.

In the midst of Zuko's panic, he failed to recognize the cliff he was standing on becoming increasingly unsturdy; turning he locked eyes with the archer. A ghost of a smile graced her lips, pride radiating off of her. Though he was angry, he couldn't help but share her pride. He locked eyes with his girlfriend who was sitting nonchalantly on the cliff edge above them all, waving nonetheless, when he told her to stay back. It’s then that the earth beneath him rumbles and falls, taking him with it.

“Zuko!” She screams, jumping to her feet; a loud crack coming from her ankle, buckling under the pressure and bringing her to her knees.

With a hobble in her step, (Y/N) climbed down the cliffside. The tears ran down her face at a ferocious pace, making her way over to the cliffside, a loud sob relented from her mouth as she saw Aang helping Zuko up over the edge of the cliff.

"Spirits, Zuko!" She breathed, limping her way over to him and hugging him tight. "I should kill you, you fucking idiot!" She sobbed, pulling him into her chest.

Zuko huffed out a laugh, wrapping his arms around her. He took deep breaths, calming his nerves from his near death experience; he focused on the feeling of her hand carding through his hair to grip it tight, and the hold on his shoulders. As he calms down, he remembers that he told her to stay put; and he sharply pulls away.

"I told you to stay at camp!" He huffed, "I told you I was coming back for you!”

She scoffs pushing on his forehead with two fingers. “In case you have forgotten, Zuko, I have authority issues. If I weren’t here, who would be saving your stupid royal ass? No one! You’re welcome, by the way. He wasn’t going to negotiate, Prince Pouty, and you and everyone else here is no good to the world dead.”

“You—You---You could’ve been hurt! (Y/N)! Or worse!” His protest was a whisper, trying to make the scene more private as he’s aware of the crowd around them.

“Zuko, love, I can handle myself. I’m a master at my craft--.”

"—your craft of carelessness, you could've been killed—"

"—but I wasn't Zuko!"

"That's not the point." His voice stern, making it clear that the conversation was done for now. (Y/N) simply nodded, pulling away from him and fixing her clothes.

Aang, Toph, Katara and Sokka watched the two as they argued; watching as they continuously tried to out-care the other. They watched as the two eventually stopped arguing, instead remained staring, as if daring each other to speak

“That was a ... nice shot? I guess?" Aang spoke, clearing his throat and drawing the couples attention to him. "He's definitely you know, dead."

(Y/N) smiles at the boy. “Thank you, Avatar, for helping save this dumb ass from falling off a cliff.” She gets up and bows to him. Zuko suddenly picks her up, the world turning sideways as he put her bridal style in his arms.

“Stop putting weight on your ankle!”

“I’m literally showing respect to the person who just helped you, is that a crime?”

“What if you break your ankle so much that you have to cut it off.”

“Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“Okay well you were first when deciding to sit on the edge of a cliff with a broken ankle.”

“You’re right! Sitting is dangerous. Next time, I’ll make sure to stand so at least I’ll have a better chance of reacting if the cliff side starts falling from under me. Oh wait, you were standing, and you still fell.”

Zuko sets her down on a broken rock that’s suitable enough for her to sit on. “Will you just shut up already and let me help you.” He reaches for her ankle, but she moves it from his grasp. Their eyes meet again and narrow in competition.

A mess of limbs as the (Y/N) evades the grip of Zuko, occasionally slapping his hands away if they get too close.

Sokka tilts his head in confusion and opens his mouth. “Is he—is he actually caring for someone?”

Aang nods. “I think? I don’t know, they’re kind of fighting a lot.”

Toph cringes, “Guys, I think it was me who hurt her in the first place. Last night at their camp. Zuko instantly stopped trying to help me when I heard her scream.”

“Guys… I think I’m supposed to let him be my master. I mean, he did just risk everything to save us.” Aang says, eyes locked on the one member who he cares more about than anyone.

Katara, still holding off on agreeing, looks to the two Fire Nation kids again.

“Ow! You bit me! Are you crazy?!” Zuko yells, shaking his left hand out.

The stranger girl laughs cheerfully. “Only crazy for you, stupid.”

And a phenomenon occurs. Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation blushes and looks down at the ground, a huge smile on his face.

“I hate you.” Is all he says.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Katara, seeing the humane side of the prince, finally lets her guard down and walks over to them. Zuko’s eyes widen at her proximity, but the water tribe girl holds his gaze.

“I’ll heal the girl if it gets you two to shut up. And you have to find dinner for tonight.”

Katara’s eyes widen again at the sight of the crying prince who suddenly bows to her feet, thanking her with his whole heart. He then turns to his smiling girl beside him and pulls her into a hug.

“Thank you, (Y/N). For everything.”

“I’ll always help you… stupid.”

#zuko #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #avatar zuko #atla x reader #atla #fanfic #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla fanfic #atla x you #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #x reader #enmy-writes atla

417 notes · View notes

peachy-rambles · 3 years

Text

May I offer: Owl Phil

He's a silent but incredibly deadly predator with massive golden-brown feathers designed so he's completely silent when hunting and flying at night. He has an impressive eyesight and is able to spot his prey easily, even in the dark.

Due to his natural abilities and skills, it makes him the perfect assassin and he's very well known, as well as greatly feared. People say once the Angel of Death sets his cold blue eyes on you, it's only a matters of days until you're found dead.

One time, he's hired to kill a warrior that's been getting in the way of some king's quest to conquer more land, and destroying any army that the King sends out.

The job is fairly easy, surprisingly enough - Phil tracks down the warrior to an outpost where the rebel army opposing the king is staying. Phil watches up in a nearby tree, waiting for the right moment.

Soon enough, he spots his target emerging from a tent and walking throughout the outpost. The warrior be hard to miss, considering how much he stands out and towers over everyone else.

Phil has his bow and arrow ready, and when the warrior is in the right position, Phil releases his arrow.

It hits its target, lodging itself in the warrior's chest and piercing his heart. The warrior falls to the ground dead and Phil smiles to himself.

Just another job successfully done.

Around 100 years later, Phil is attending a masquerade ball on another assignment. Dressed to the nines in a corset and long flowing green dress, with an owl mask to hide his face, he blends in perfectly.

He spends a fair amount of time wandering throughout the building and observing the many guests (politely declining any interest and flirtations directed towards him), until eventually finds his target.

Phil approaches his target, who is standing off to the side of the party, dressed appropriately in a large red cloak and with an ornate pig mask covering half of his face.

"Not one for socializing, are you?" Phil asks his target, attempting to start a conversation.

His target is quiet for a moment before he shrugs, "Not really."

He doesn't offer anything else and the awkward silence between them is heavy.

"I'm Watson, by the way!" Phil says, holding his hand out to his target and attempting to break the silence.

His target hesitates before he places his hand on Phil's and quietly says, "Techno."

It's a bit easier after that to converse with Techno, with Phil doing his best to lead the conversation. Techno seems to just be naturally awkward and somewhat distrustful (which Phil wouldn't blame him for), but as the night goes on he opens up to Phil bit by bit. In turn, Phil begins to talk more freely and it isn't long before they're both laughing and giggling about some stupid joke Techno just made.

And damn, Phil really shouldn't enjoy talking to Techno this much, not when he's Phil's target, but Phil can't help but like Techno. He seems like a genuinely nice, if awkward person, but...a job is a job and Phil has never failed before.

He won't start now.

Still, Phil can't help but let his assignment slip from his mind when Techno leads him out to one of the empty balconies (Phil following behind and on reflex, shutting and locking the balcony doors). It isn't long before Phil finds himself being held and pressed up against one of the balcony walls, both of them hidden from view, as Techno kisses him.

Phil tries to focus, he really does, but that's a bit hard to do while being kissed by Techno (it's not like Techno is the best kisser or seems terribly experienced, especially with those tusks, but he makes up for it in enthusiasm and his eagerness to kiss Phil. And Phil just likes him a lot more than he thought he would, which is bad, but there's nothing he can do about it now).

At one point, while Techno's head is bent down and mouthing at Phil's neck (no doubt leaving marks, which Phil has mixed feelings about), Phil manages to accidentally undo the tie to Techno's mask as he runs his fingers through Techno's hair.

The mask falls to the floor, but they both ignore it, too caught up in each other to really notice.

But it's when Techno lifts his head up, his face unmasked for the first time that night, that Phil stiffens and his eyes widen in disbelief.

Phil has lived many years and has killed countless people, has trained himself to feel nothing but apathy towards his targets.

But despite Phil's many many years and the countless amount of lives he's taken, Phil has never forgotten the faces of the people he's killed.

And Techno has the face of a warrior that Phil killed years ago, the one that wouldn't die no matter how many armies the King sent after him. The warrior that Phil had found in a rebel outpost and sniped, that Phil knew should be dead! Because even if Phil somehow hadn't killed him (which he did, Phil knows he did, he has never failed on a job), it's been over 100 years! The warrior wouldn't be alive, even if Phil hadn't killed him!

Right?

"Watson? Is-is everything all right?" Techno asks, having noticed Phil stiffening up in his arms and the, well...terror written all over his face.

Techno carefully sets Phil down and Phil silently walks over to the balcony railing, gripping it tightly in his hands.

This should be impossible. Why does Techno have the face of one of Phil's past victims? Surely it was just a coincidence!

(But Phil had a feeling it wasn't.)

"Watson? Are you okay? Did I-did I do something wrong?" Phil feels Techno come up behind him, placing a careful hand on Phil's waist.

Well, at least the one upside to seeing Techno's face is that Phil isn't distracted anymore and remembers what he's here to do - why he's attending this party and why he even approached Techno in the first place.

"I'm fine, just...could you hold me?" Phil asks and let's go of the railing, leaning back against Techno as he wraps his arms around Phil.

Phil turns around to face Techno and crooks his finger towards him, Techno understanding and leaning down so he's somewhat closer to Phil's height.

Phil whispers, "I'm sorry," and places a delicate kiss against Techno's lips.

Techno is utterly confused, until he feels the sharp pain of a knife entering and leaving his chest, impaling his heart.

He stumbles back and falls to the floor, dead.

Phil's job is done and he escapes, silently flying out into the night. And for the first time in years, he tries to forget the face of one of his victims.

Over 200 years pass and Phil has long forgotten about the Techno incident, as he's come to call out, pushing it to the back of his mind.

He's been hired for another job, this one probably one of the more elite one he's done because this time, he's been hired to kill an Emperor.

The Ice Emperor of the Antarctic Empire is Phil's current target. Starting out with a small army and barely any territory or wealth, the Ice Emperor has since expanded his empire and threatens to take over the whole world. Not that Phil really cares for politics, but he wasn't really surprised when the leaders of other factions all grouped together and hired him to take out their fellow leader.

Phil manages to fly out under the cover of night and into the cold tundra the Ice Emperor calls home, finding the grand palace he lives in. Phil lands on one of the upper windows, easily unlocking it and sneaking inside.

He enters the room - the Ice Emperor's bedroom - and remains silent as he walks up to the Emperor's bed where he lays fast asleep. He's sprawled out onto the massive bed, no doubt custom made to fit his size, the covers askew and his hair a tangled mess around his face.

This was the feared Ice Emperor? Well, ok, Phil got that this guy was fucking massive and probably normally very scary. But like this? Not really.

Phil shook his head and forced himself back to the present.

Right. Quick slice across the throat and Phil should be done.

He pulled out his knife from it's sheath and leaned down, only to let out a startled shriek when a large hand reached out to grab his arm.

Phil struggled as he was pulled down by the Ice Emperor, but he was no match for the Emperor's massive size and strength. Within seconds, Phil found himself pinned down onto the bed, a hand wrapped firmly (but surprisingly gently) around his neck and another hand gripping his wrist which still held the knife.

Phil stared up at the Ice Emperor in shock, a cold sinking feeling washing over him as his eyes met the Emperor's. He wasn't surprised that the Emperor had caught and immobilized him, no that's not what shocked Phil.

What shocked Phil and what terrified him was the blood red eyes meeting his own blue ones, the red eyes that Phil recognized.

The eyes belonging to a warrior in a rebel outpost he'd killed years ago. The same eyes that belonged to a man Phil had met at a masquerade ball and had found himself utterly attracted to, only to have to kill him later that night.

"Hello, Angel," Techno said, smiling down at him, "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

#techza #technophil #peachy fic prompts #this quickly went from owl phil to assassin au #there's character death in this but it's temporary and not at all permanent #assassin au

146 notes · View notes

thebookwormfairy · 3 years

Text

Maribat Winx Club Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist

Marinette *panicing*: This doesn't make any sense. How can we be family? I was born on Earth! My parents were born on Earth! I'm an Earthling!

Damian gently grabbing Marinette by the shoulder: Angel I know this is a difficult time for you right now, but we need to focus of the mission right now, okay? Let's grab the miraculous and get back to Alfea, then we can all freak out about you and Jason being related there. Okay, Angel?

Marinette: Okay

Jason: Okay! We can have a big freak out party together with your parents, Bruce, and Alfred. Can't forget the brothers and our friends either! We can all have a mental breakdown together!

Marinette: Sounds fun!

Jason went over the the chest and opens it revealing a pair of red and black Polk a dot earrings

Jason: It looks like the Ladybug earrings. Let's head home guys.

As the fairies and specialists press the buttons to head home they all had one thought in their minds

If Marinette and Jason were family what did that mean for their quest for the Miraculous?

After a nice long freak out session between everybody over the apparent relation between Jason and Marinette they gathered in Ms. Faragonda's office to tell her what they had learned on Miracul

Faragonda: Then it seems what I feared has come to pass. I must call Bruce, Alfred, and the rest of the old Miraculous holders

Jason: Wait why?

Marinette: You used to be a Miraculous holder?

Faragonda: all questions will be answered in due time once everybody is here

Faragonda sent out the call to the surviving ex miraculous holders who came right away

Alfred, Fu, and Mariam gathered in Faragonda's office along with Bruce and Jon's dad Clark who was in charge of the Justice League, a group that formed to keep peace in the magix dimensions after the fall of Miracul

Faragonda: Thank you for joining us. As you know the Miraculous have resurfaced and with them the Dark Coven

Fu: We have heard of the attacks we have also heard of the brave students who are working the gather them. *Fu gestures the the young fairies and specialists* I assume these are those brave students

Dick raising his hand: I'm actually a teacher

Alfred: Yes Master Dick and we're all very proud of you

Dick now resembles and happy golden retriever

Faragonda: Yes these are the young people who have been gathering the Miraculous. So far they've found 5 Miraculous, the Fox, the Turtle, the Rabbit, the Mouse, and most importantly the Ladybug

Mariam: That's wonderful! If only we had the Black Cat and a member of the royal family then we could use them to pull the rest of the Miraculous to them

Faragonda: We might have 2 members of the royal family with us in this room. Jason and Marinette can you please stand up here with me

Jason and Marinette stood side by side in front of the crowd of adults

Faragonda: We've been working under the assumption that Jason was just a lucky citizen of Miracul that was able to escape it's destruction, but the Miraculous call out to him. And Marinette gained her Enchantix by saving Jason's life that means their family. I've had this feeling for a long time. Look closely at these two, who do they remind you of?

Alfred was nodding his head looking at the two as if he's seeing them in a new light

Miriam gasped, covering her mouth and tears weld up in her eyes

Fu was the one to put everybody thoughts into words

Fu: They look so much like Queen Clarisse and King Roland

Faragonda: We've been living under the assumption that the Dark Ones were smart enough to get rid of the royal heirs before the attack, but what if they weren't. What if young Prince Jason took his sister Princess Marinette to the portal room and was able to escape the planet but got separated along the way. One ending up in Gotham the other on Earth.

Alfred: That would explain a lot. When Master Jason first joined us at the Manor he use to have terrible nightmares about failing to protect somebody

Fu: To bad we don't also have the ring of the Black Cat then they could call forth the rest of the Miraculous using the Miraculous box

Miriam: But the box was lost along with Miracul

Faragonda: But we might be able to find it if we also had the Black Cat

Marinette: Is the Ring of of Black Cat black with a green paw print on it?

Fu: Yes it is. How did you know that Marinette?

Marinette was hesitant, but the voice inside her head said it was alright to show them the ring

Marinette reaching into her pocket: Last year during our final exam I was assigned Miracul as the dead planet I had to bring back. During the test i head a voice call me into a cave where I found this. The voice told me to keep it hidden and not to let anybody know that I had it

Marinette pulled out the ring from her pocket showing it to the people in the room

Fu: That is indeed the Black Cat Miraculous

Jason: Why didn't you tell us about it soon Marinette?

Marinette: I was scared what it meant if the Miraculous was really calling to me as well. If that means my parents weren't really my parents. If that somehow changed my relationship with them.

Fu walked over to the girl that reminded him so much of his dear friends and put a hand on her shoulder

Fu: Marinette I may not know you or your family, but if your parents took you in and raised you for the last 16 years then you finding out that you are adopted will have no change on the relationship you have with them. Unless you let it effect it

Faragonda: It is time for you two to claim you birthright as the wielders of the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous

Jason and Marinette stared at eachother thinking over what Faragonda had just said

Marinette: But what if you're wrong? Didn't you say that anybody who wasn't the royal family or the Dark Coven would die if they but on the Miraculous

Faragonda: I'm not wrong. I've already seen you use the power of the Black Cat once before during the Scarecrow's attack on the school

Jason grabbing the Ladybug earrings: I'm in if you are Pixie Pop

Marinette tightened her grip on the ring: Let's do it or die trying

Adrien: Wow wow wow, there is no reason for either of you to die

Damian: Yeah I have to agree with Agreste let's try to not kill my girlfriend, Todd.

Jason with one earring already in: Yeah yeah yeah, don't worry Demon Spawn. I'm not going to lose my sister again.

As Jason slipped the last earring onto his ear and Marinette place the ring on her finger to balls of light came put of the jewelry and floated in front of the reunited siblings

The one in front of Jason formed into a ladybug looking creature and the one in front of Marinette formed into what looked like a small cat

Plagg stretching: Aahg finally! You know kid you could have put my miraculous on a long time ago. Your my kitten you got to get a little bit more curious then that

Marinette: Oh I'm sorry...

Plagg: Plagg Kwami of Destruction you got any cheese?

Marinette: Not on me but I'm sure we can go to the kitchen after this

Plagg: It'll have to do

Plagg flew over Marinette and landing on her head and looked every bit like an old house cat lounging on their owner

While this was happening Jason was meeting his own Kwami

Tikki: Hello Jason! I'm Tikki the kwami of creation! I remember you when you were just a little boy! You used to love chasing us around!

Jason: I remember you! You were my mom's kwami!

Tikki: Clarisse was a great Ladybug, but I know you'll do her proud!

Bruce didn't want to interrupt the found family's moment but they need to get this meeting back on track

Bruce: Since Jason and Marinette can wield the Miraculous does that mean they can summon the rest of the Miraculous right now

Fu shook his head: They would need the Miraculous box to do that and sadly we know for certain is in the hands of the Dark Coven

Marinette: But we can choose new wielders of the Miraculous right?

Alfred: That is correct

Jason: But we don't have enough Miraculous for everyone

Alya: Don't worry about that!

Rose: Yeah we all have Enchantix

Alix: This Dark Coven members have no chance against us in those forms

Juleka nodded her head in agreement

Marinette: Then let's give them to the Specialists. I love you guys but you don't have the same protections as the fairies. You'll be safer with the Miraculous

Jon: You guys don't have to worry about us we're Specialist. We are train to go into dangerous situations like this

The other boys go to agree with Jon, but Jason interrupts them

Jason: She's right boys, but we'll need to find 1 more so each of you can get one

Fu: If you two transform using the miraculous you'll be able to focus on a certain Miraculous and track it. I suggest the Dragon Miraculous it's one of the most powerful, besides the Cat and Ladybug

Jason: Let's do this Marinette

Marinette: Let's find that Miraculous

Tikki: Great! Jason all you have to do is say Spots On

Plagg: Kitten all you have to say is claws out

Jason: Tikki Spots On!

Marinette: Plagg Claws Out!

Jason now work what looked like the classic prince outfit with a red and black color scheme

While Marinette wore a tea length Princess Dress with a Black and Green color scheme with black cat ears on top of her head and black lace fingerless gloves covering her palms

Damian stared at his stunning girlfriend

Adrien was watching him with a smug smile

Adrien: Damian you might want to wipe that dwell off your chin

Damian quickly wiped his face only to find no dwell

Damian glaring at Adrien: Shut Up!

Jon: Don't tell him to shut up

Adrien: Yeah don't tell me to shut up

Marinette: I got it! It's like I can see the Miraculous itself!

Jason: Yeah it's on Salerios hidden in the royal garden

Clark: The League will call a head to the King and get him to allow us access

Bruce: We leave in an hour

And before the day was up the fairies and the Specialists had the Dragon Miraculous in their hands

Jason: Awesome with the Miraculous we have and you fairies' Enchantix the Dark Coven ont stand a chance

Tikki: And if you get the rest of the Miraculous and the Miraculous Box we can restore Miracul to it's former glory

Adrien: That'll mean you'll be a real life princess Marinette

Alya: With all the responsibilities that comes with it!

Alix: Like meetings with royals fron other planets and-

As her friends discussed Marinette's future everything really hit Marinette

It finally sunk in that her whole life was a lie

What if she wouldn't be able to see her parents any more

What if she couldn't be with Damian any more

What if she destroyed her planet like the Dark Coven did

Marinette: Hey guys I'm going to turn in for the day

Damian frowning: Are you okay Angel?

Marinette: Yeah I just need some rest after this hectic day

Jason: Are you sure Pixie Pop?

Marinette: Yeah I'm sure Goodnight

When Marinette went to her room she didn't feel any better

She knew what she had to do so she wrote a note to let her friends knew she was okay and headed to the portal room

Marinette stood in front of her parents backery gathering courage for what she was about to do

Tom and Sabine was closing for the night when their daughter rushed into the store

Tom: Marinette?

Sabine: What are you doing here sweetheart

Marinette couldn't help it and blurted out what she had learned

Marinette: I know I'm adopted!

@t1dwarrior-of-earth @clumsy-owl-4178 @vgirl-10123 @aestheticnpoetic @toodaloo-kangaroo @animegirlweeb @k-poplunardreams @our-preciousss @razzledazzle247 @justafanwarrior @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @eve-v0lution @fusser90 @dast218

#maribat #daminette #damian x marinette #big brother Jason #winx club au #winx club

133 notes · View notes

teacup-set · 3 years

Text

time will wash every tower to the sea

"Sakura." he says, with the sacredness of a prayer. 'That's not my name', she thinks, but there is such an aching familiarity in his voice that she swears it could have been.

FFN.

-x-

Time will wash every tower to the sea, but never you and me.

-x-

Fated

When Sakiko wakes up that morning, she feels electricity in the air. Static at her fingertips, the taste of metal in her mouth, the weight of lead in her stomach.

Life at the hospital is too fast paced though, and there is no free moment to consider the anticipation that has been building in her chest till the end of her sixteen-hour shift. Standing over the metal sink, clawing to get out the blood that has dried in the crevices around her fingernails, she finally pauses long enough to feel the zing in the atmosphere. ‘What is it?’, she wonders, ‘Am I forgetting something?’

Staring in the mirror over the sink, she regards her tired green eyes and limp pink hair falling out of her ponytail. She frowns as she tries to remember if something was supposed to happen today. It feels like a half forgotten memory trying to reach the tip of her tongue but getting lost somewhere in her throat. She goes over every patient she is assigned one by one, trying to remember if there is something she has forgotten, but comes up empty.

Frustrated, she gathers her things and leaves the locker room. Walking down the hospital hallway, she ticks off things in her mind. ‘Groceries? I don’t need to shop for another week, I think. Electricity bill? Wait no, I paid that already. What could it be?’ She feels the tingling on her skin grow stronger as she nears the hospital doors. Waving a cheery goodbye to the people at the reception, she turns the handle of the staff exit door and steps out into the dying sunlight. Breathing in the cool evening air, she immediately feels relief in her muscles and wonders if the rumbling apprehension was just a consequence of being cooped up inside all day.

She has barely finished the thought when her gaze meets mismatched onyx and purple eyes that mirror the alarm and surprise in her own, and suddenly every muscle in her body is more coiled than ever before. She feels her throat closing, her body running out of air, and the sudden clarity of her mind.

She has never seen this man before, she knows, but a voice inside her head whispers ‘This is it.’

-x-

Salvation

In every lifetime, Sasuke wonders what it will be like when he finds her again (because he will, this much he knows), but he never imagined it would be quite like this.

Stumbling upon her in a small satellite town, where he only stopped by to post a letter.

He was on his way out of the town when he was suddenly trapped by gravity, rooted in place by a feeling he couldn’t name growing in his chest.

And just like that, she walked out through the most unremarkable doors, extraordinary forest green eyes finding his.

He thinks this is what it must be like to find the face of God at the end of a pilgrimage.

-x-

Pinnacle

Sakiko isn’t religious, not particularly spiritual either, but staring at his dark hair against alabaster skin with eyes she could never forget but somehow can’t remember, she thinks she has found enlightenment.

She feels like an eternity has passed her by as they stare at each other across the street. Suddenly he is moving, unmindful of the traffic passing by, looking every bit as bewildered as her.

In a blink he is in front of her, eyes drinking her in like she is the pinnacle of some journey, an artist’s magnum opus, a scientist’s greatest discovery, a ghost.

“Sakura.” he says, with the sacredness of a prayer.

‘That’s not my name’, she thinks, but there is such an aching familiarity in his voice that she swears it could have been.

-x-

Remembrances

It doesn’t take long for him to realize she doesn’t know who he is, not in the way he knows her, but there is still a shard of remembrance buried within her mortal soul that has transcended the same lifetimes he has.

Why else would she bring a man she never met into her home without either of them uttering a word of explanation.

He sits on her deep navy couch and takes in the small apartment. It feels like an out-of-body experience to see her new life reflected all over the space. Pictures with people he has never known, shelves lined with books he has never heard of, little trinkets with histories that are foreign to him. He feels a pang in his chest.

But his eyes find her again, leaning against the kitchen counter twiddling her thumb like she did when she was nervous, dressed in blue hospital scrubs (of course she would be a healer, of course), the same vision of pink and green he has yearned for across ages, and he knows with utmost clarity that the entirety of time couldn’t chip away at their familiarity.

“My name is Sakiko.” she says, frowning.

Sakiko, he mulls. He supposes he should have expected her name would be different, but he rejoices that even now her name is the personification of spring. Even after all this time spent searching for her, he has no idea where to start telling her about him and their history.

“I’m Sasuke.” he says, deciding that’s as good a place to start as any.

Her doe eyes widen as she swallows a small gasp, like the name had been inside her all along, asleep beneath her consciousness, and he wonders perhaps there isn’t as much to explain as he had thought.

-x-

Transcendental

‘We were lovers,’ he had told her, choking slightly on the were.

Sakiko wonders when all her scientific aptitude her teachers gushed about went down the drain because she believes him with the utmost confidence.

He told her that many lifetimes ago they had been shinobi from the village hidden in the Leaves, that they had been on the same team, had fought in a war together, had fallen in love, gotten married, and had a child together.

Her mind is reeling as she struggles to catch up. She knew about shinobi, but she never imagined she could be one. She had no idea where the Hidden Leaf was. She certainly hadn’t ever fought in a war.

But staring into his clashing eyes, feeling the reverb of his voice in her bones, ‘I could have loved him’ she thinks.

-x-

Dread

He cradles the mug of hot tea she had made for him, watching the steam rise and dissipate into the air. Sakur-Sakiko is sitting on the floor on the opposite side of the coffee table, quietly listening as he recounted their past lives.

Through his journey recounting his first birth as Indra, to the incarnation of the Sasuke she had known, and the many lifetimes that had passed by since then till now, she hung onto every word in rapture. Frowning in confusion, smiling in amusement, even crying some tears at the many tragedies that had punctuated his and her life, but she never once looked surprised or disbelieving.

Many quiet moments pass as he drinks his tea and she lets the information sink in.

“How do you remember everything?” she asks him, looking helpless at her own lack of memory.

He sets his cup down. “In every life since the one I knew you, when I turn seventeen, my rinnegan awakens and I remember every past life. Naruto awakens the Six Paths Sage Mode and he remembers too. In most lifetimes we both find each other. Sometimes we don’t.”

“Did you find him this time?”

“Aa.”

“Where is he now?”

“He is looking for Hinata, his partner.”

“Oh. Has he found her before?”

“Yeah, he mostly does. She is a descendant of the Otsusuki too, and most of the time she remembers and they find each other. Even if she doesn’t, she always remembers when he finds her.”

Something in her expression shifts.

“I loved you, didn’t I? Why don’t I remember?” she says, her voice sounding small.

He feels a tectonic shift in his chest, like his entire heart has been displaced by the fears he had been trying to run from all these years. He doesn’t know how to tell her how absolutely terrified he had been that he would never find her, that her mortal ancestry meant that she was never reborn. How he and Naruto, and even Hinata, had searched for her like savages to the ends of the earth, starting over from scratch every new cycle. How on every deathbed he had longed for her, and prayed for his life to end once and for all if she was no longer on the earth. He wants to tell her what a miracle it is that she is here and he has found her, that her memory is a small price to pay because he will tell her a thousand times if he has to, but he knows the words will crush him on their way out.

He doesn’t even realize she has moved till he feels the dip in the couch where she rests her knee, and then the embrace of her arms around him. Neither of them has said anything but he knows she understands.

-x-

Kindered

One look at him and she knows what he is thinking. She can read the terror in his eyes as clear as day: I thought I'd never find you.

She feels the landslide in her own chest, tumbling down to her stomach and weighing her down.

"Why did you keep looking?" She asks, burrowing her head in his shoulders, crying for a man she has loved without ever knowing.

He is quiet for a long time and she thinks he isn't going to answer. Then he says-

"You told me once that you knew we were soulmates when you and Naruto were looking for me after I left, and when you were combing through Kaguya's worlds to find me. You said you could find me through every age, solar system, and dimension. That there was a current that pulled you to where I was-”

He feels her still.

“-When I was reborn that first time without you, I understood what you had meant.”

-x-

Luminsecent

She can’t breathe.

It's all too much. The buzz in the air all morning, the weight of ancient history, the indescribable pull towards the man sitting on her couch. He looked so completely wrecked at the hands of time, like a man who had no choice but to endure in his quest, only to pause at the finish line long enough to take in just how tired he is. He had suffered the ruthlessnesss of so many lives, looking for her.

‘I’ve been looking for you, too’ something inside her whispers, ‘I just never knew till I found you.’

She knows she is crying, and though she can’t see his face from her position in their embrace, she thinks he is too.

She looks over behind her shoulder to watch the spring sunrise pour in through her window and slowly inch towards them across the living room floor. She never realized when the entire night passed them by.

Detangling her arms from around him, she settles on the couch, angling herself towards him. He lifts his head from his arms and looks at her.

She breathes in deeply...and then begins-

“I was born in a smaller village on the outskirts of this town. I went to the Land of Earth to study medicine, and then returned here to work at the hospital. I never knew my parents, I was raised by my aunt. I like reading philosophy and history, and...I guess I still like sweets.”

He stares at her with wide eyes as he slowly realizes what she is trying to do. She carries on telling him about the life she has lived, the one he missed, and watches as he clings on to every word, like every little insignificant fact she told him gave him a second chance, another rebirth.

By the time she is finished they are drenched in sunlight, from the same sun they sat under together in their past lives, and she feels like her skin is on fire.

It’s a new morning, another beginning, another chance.

“Do you want to grab some lunch?” she asks, struck by the mundaneness of the question in the aftermath of such a transcendental disclosure.

He clears his throats and nods.

She flashes him a smile and wonders how it pairs with her tear streaked cheeks, and parts with him briefly to wash her face and grab her keys.

She pauses at the apartment door and waits for him to join her, only to find him staring at her with an intensity that takes her breath away.

“I…” he begins, “Thank you, Sakiko”

Something in his words ignites something within her, and she feels like a trapeze sailing through the air but falling just short of waiting hands.

“Sakura.” she says abruptly, “You.. can call me Sakura.” she announces.

For a moment he looks surprised, and then smiles like he has been set free.

“Thank you, Sakura.”

There is magic in those words that she can feel in her soul, a certainty that surpasses the transience of life, the finality of physics.

‘In the next life, I will look for you.’ she vows, ‘but first, this one.’

They step out into the daylight.

Fin.

-x-

A very indulgent piece I wrote inspired from Samsara by @kuriquinn and Queitus by SeraphinaScribes, both of which I recommend you read. Hope you enjoy!

#ss #ss fanfiction #sasusaku #ss fic #sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno

111 notes · View notes

sexysilverstrider · 3 years

Text

Thawed Heart (Kaelumi)

He doesn’t deserve to be loved.

“You’re not my brother!!”

Those words ring clear in his mind no matter how many times he tries to shake it off.

A twisted smile curls the corners of his mouth. How pitiful it feels, to know that the grim memory will always plague him no matter the amount of alcohol, no matter the amount of knight work he has drowned himself in. The brutal reminder that he was at fault—he is, still. The sickening images of him clashing steels against the young boy whose innocence he has killed. The cruel slap of reality that he felt no guilt, but instead satisfaction at the death of the man who took him in.

He doesn’t deserve to be happy.

“Kaeya?”

And yet, happiness is what mocks him at arm’s reach.

Crystal blue eye gazes at the young woman next to him. “Yes, my fair hero?” he responds, simple and sweet, just as the smile that he so craftly curls due to years and years of practice.

It seems to pass right through her.

“It’s getting dark.” She simply states. Her head cocks upwards, amber eyes gazing at the orange hue. “Let’s find a place to camp out.” Her voice is as cold as ice, yet laced with gentle sternness that radiates her entire being. Giving her head a turn to the left, she spots Paimon and Razor eyeing a couple of wild hogs not far from where they are standing.

Judging by the glazed looks and drooling mouths, Lumine stands firm on her suggestion.

“Let’s go hunt for dinner and then I’ll ask Amber to build a campfire.” Not waiting for the knight captain’s response, she finally brings her gaze back to him.

She always seems as if she is looking past the mask he so deliberately wears.

And yet, “Your orders, Ms Lumine.” His smile remains in place.

---

Moonstadt doesn’t have seasons as far as he remembers, but the weathers can differ between long months. And as luck pushes it, their little quest together is brought upon a season that is warmer than usual. Thankfully, they are shrouded in a land filled with thick trees, but even that brings sweat and fatigue faster than usual for the group.

Amber doesn’t seem to mind, though, but Kaeya figures it must be the vision in her that makes her adapt to the hot weather.

The crackle of fire soothes their sights. After a hearty dinner, both Amber and Paimon are knocked out for the day. The pyro-user snuggles with her doll, all while huddling into a sleeping bag that Lumine assumes has thinner material considering the low heat for tonight. Paimon is sprawled next to Amber, tiny arms and legs spread apart as if she is making a dirt angel on the grass beneath her. Razor remains awake as he stands on a nearby cliff, keeping night-watch as usual despite Lumine’s disapproval.

“I keep Lupical safe.” He merely answered when she insisted that he should rest before their journey for tomorrow. Before Lumine could retort further, Razor simply ran away and kept watch at a distance so that she wasn’t able to lecture him.

Smart boy, Kaeya thinks back with a twitch of a smile.

“Are you not sleeping?”

Her voice, soothing as it is, brings him back to reality. “Ah,” he replies, head turns to the left, “maybe in the next hour? I do want to enjoy these precious moments with the most famous hero in Moonstadt.” There it is again with her sugar-coated words, with the perfect curve of a masked smile.

It always goes through her.

“You don’t have to push yourself.” Amber eyes are fixated in the flickering flames. “I saw that you fought your hardest when we faced that Oceanid. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t think we were able to face those stupid water creatures without slowing them down.” God, she still feels the ache on her lower back every time she thinks back about the water crab. Stretching her legs forward, Lumine sighs slowly.

Her actions somewhat tickle his throat.

“It was all thanks to your brilliant planning.” Though he was at shock when she told him that they were going to face the dreaded Cyro creature today, Kaeya was—in rare cases—at lost for words at the amount of times they faced the Oceanid today. As calm as she looks, the knight captain oftentimes forgets how…ruthless the mysterious traveller can be.

Well, they all survive, so that’s what really matters.

“So,” he eyes the abundance of materials piled up next to Amber and Paimon, “what’s the occasion? I don’t think you wanting to annihilate that Oceanid 5 times per day is some sort of new dangerous hobby?”

He sees her shift.

“It’s…” Hesitance bites her tongue, “for a friend.”

Crack.

He ignores the slight twitch in the corner of his good eye.

“Ahhh…” A simple reply and a single nod. Curiosity clouds his mind. An emotion he does not wish to acknowledge flicks his heart. “And dare I assume that this friend didn’t actually request all of those materials?” Legs crossed, Kaeya leans further to get a closer look. The light of the fire allows him to see the shape of her face, the shape of her body. Though legs are bent and brought closer to her chest, he can see the tiny frown that tugs the corners of her mouth.

She looks absolutely adorable.

“No.” She shakes her head. “It’s more of a gift. He helped me a lot back in Liyue and I figured all these materials will help repay him for his cooperation.” Slender arms hug her knees. “Besides, he did show me around in Liyue, so all the more reason I should repay him for all the kind deeds he did for me.”

Crack. Crack.

Kaeya ignores it as best as he can.

“I see.” His tone dips quietly. “That’s a shame. And here I thought I showed you a great time in Moonstadt despite the lack of rewards.” His words are masked with a smile. His words are hiding the aching vibrations in his chest.

He sees her eyes roll.

“I did pay you back. Remember that time we fought that Cryo Regisvine?” Oh, she especially does not want to remember that, either. “I couldn’t feel my fingers for a few days after fighting it. Amber almost had half a mind to shoot an arrow of fire at me if it means I get to feel warm.”

Oh, he definitely remembers her gifts, alright. That was one of the days where it actually brought a sense of surprise from the knight captain.

It seems that he is…unnerved that he isn’t the only one with the special treatment.

“Ah, but I joined that fight too, remember? So it felt less like a surprise and more like a task.” Beautiful lips curve to a playful frown. The action brings back another roll of her eyes. Cute.

“Are you suggesting you don’t want to join me in those quests then?”

His eye widens. “Now how did you conclude to that idea?”

Her head lowers until her chin rests on her knees. “Because it sounds like one.”

Fuck, his rapid heartbeat is betraying him.

His mouth holds back a smirk. “Now, now, Lumine.” Slowly he slides closer, itching to feel her warmth that soothes his traitorous heart. “Don’t sulk, my dear. I was merely teasing.” The light of the fire illuminates the curve of her nose, the glint in her eyes. Strands of blonde locks cascade down the side of her head, and his fingers itch to gently brush it to the back of her ear.

He wonders if she feels the throbbing in her chest too.

“Hmm…” Either lazy or tired to respond properly, Lumine looks back at the fire. Despite night has blanketed the sky, she still feels trickles of sweat on her neck and chest. Discomfort causes a tiny growl that bubbles behind gritted teeth. Legs once again stretched forward, Lumine wipes away the sweat on her neck.

“Uncomfortable?”

Her palm moves to her collarbone. His eye follows her movement.

“A bit.” She isn’t a fan of hot weathers, anyways. Her other hand fans the open spots on her chest.

Crystal blue eye remains silently on the place she is fanning.

Emotions hidden behind the dim light of the fire, Kaeya then opens his mouth, “Do you want me to cool you off?”

That ceases her wiping and fanning. “I’m sorry?” Quickly she looks to the side, amber eyes finally meeting a single glint of such mesmerizing azure.

He should stop himself. He should brush it off again as a joke.

“I’m a Cryo user.” Instead, he continues. “My body basically radiates cool.” Lost between the fine line of jest and seriousness, Kaeya spreads his arms open. “See? I’m not even sweating.” A smile he so proudly wears beams next to the dancing fire. “If you need to cool off, your personal cooler is right here.”

He stops. Finally. He should have stopped at her quizzical response. He should have stopped before he could even breathe the first question out loud. As much as many Kaeya is also famous for his flirtatious advances, he should know that Lumine, of all people, would ignore—or in some rare cases, tease back—his shameless teasing—

His heart thumps the hardest when he feels something—someone—moving closer to him.

Immediately his eye opens, widens, at the petite figure that huddles closer to his chest. A fluff of blonde fills his vision. A flow of warmth caresses his stiff body.

“You’re right,” she peeps, meek and softer than usual, “you are cool.” Slim fingers flinch and curl into small fists, Lumine bents her legs closer to her chest. He was taller than her, her head barely reaching his neck as she lightly bumps her cheek against his chest. She is careful as to not hit his bare chest, afraid and nervous that she is invading his privacy even more than she already is.

Her body welcomes the soothing breeze. A sigh slurs unwarily to feel such cooling comfort seeping into her skin. Momentarily forgetting about her invasion of space, Lumine finally feels fatigue enveloping her.

Her heart continues to thump madly, to scream in shame at her thoughtless action. A part of her was taking vengeance in all the constant teasing he had given her. Another part jumps to the invitation, despite knowing it was just Kaeya being Kaeya with his playfully empty words.

She wants nothing more than to look at him now, to gauge his reaction. But the deed has been done, and Lumine knows she will be in deep shit if she were to pull back now after her foolish action.

So with arms tight around her legs, Lumine hides her face on his chest.

Her nuzzling merely causes a single flinch from him.

She’s warm. The only thought occupies his mind like a beacon in a dark storm. Arms still spread apart, Kaeya gawks at the tiny hero on his chest. He wonders if she can hear his screaming heart. He wonders if she can feel the heat that starts to melt the ice within.

He then suddenly hears a small snore.

“Lumine…?” Her name feels so right on his tongue. Arms slowly dropped to the sides, Kaeya casts a peek. Shock continues to intensify to see her finally succumbing to slumber. He cannot believe it. To know, to feel, to see that she has put so much trust in him to be this vulnerable, Kaeya almost feels a laugh rumbling out of him.

He doesn’t deserve to feel this happy.

His smile wavers. His eye dims under the faint light. “Oh dear…” Feeling sluggish, defeated by the beautiful warrior so close to him, Kaeya slowly wraps his arms around her. One arm caresses the side of her waist. The other brushes her shoulder until his hand pats the back of her head.

She feels so warm.

“How dare you!!!”

How cruel, he thinks, that the grim memory starts to play in his mind right now.

She looks so innocent, so content with her dreams. The furrow in her brows is gone, revealing a creaseless forehead that entices him. The curve of her nose catches his eye, observing, memorizing the perfect shape until it rids the one memory he so deeply wishes to forget. Her breathing is gentle, even, caressing the open space in his chest, causing prickles in his skin until he forces a sigh.

His eye then stops at the sight of her lips, pink, full, hypnotizing him with a desire that burns deep into the pit of his stomach.

He wets his suddenly dry lips.

Finally, Kaeya sighs, feeling tired as ever. Though his vision has prevented him from having a proper body heat, he finds it ironic how to feel hot from top to bottom.

He doesn’t deserve this at all.

His muscles feel sore. His heart aches terribly in his chest. The memory keeps playing on and on, taunting him as long as he walks on this very earth.

And yet, his smile softens to a genuine curve at the sight of her.

“Goodnight, Lumine…” He doesn’t deserve her. Any of this. He knows. “Sweet dreams…” So he decides to be selfish, decides to be foolish as he lowers his head.

Chup… His lips meet her forehead, then lingers for a few seconds longer so that he can memorize the soft taste of her skin.

Before succumbing to the screams of his past, Kaeya tightens his embrace and closes his eye.

He wonders if this temporary happiness can stay forever.

END

#Genshin Impact #Lumine #Kaeya #Kaelumi #Kaeya Alberich #dude i did not know tht was your full name until now lol #anyways i needed kaeyalumi fluff bt cant find one #so i made my own food ehee #fafar writes

85 notes · View notes

black-streak · 4 years

Text

Little Pistol - Daisy

Chapter 1

Previous Next

I'm trying to keep this in line with her canon personality to an extent here. Determined, focused, conniving and scheming. A little obsessive. But also needs to give herself a little pep talk to go through with things. Let me know how I'm doing?

Btw, title is by Brand New.

LP Taglist

@zalladane @moonlightstar64 @amayakans @elmokingkong @queen-in-a-flower-crown

Permanent list

@naoryllis @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @my-name-is-michell @maribat-is-lifeblood @dast218 @novicevoice @shizukiryuu @princess-of-fangirls @bigpicklebananatree @pirats-pizzacanninibles @abrx2002 @breemeister @darkthunder1589 @thestressmademedoit @severelyenchantedwonderland @isabellemasen @multi-fandom-freak0221 @fantasyloversblog @bzz75 @cloudiedraws @jardimazul @orbitsvt @gingerdaile @sotheresthatthought @kadmeread @novaloptr @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @crazylittlemunchkin @18-fandoms-unite-08 @tiny-goddess-of-chaos

~---~

Convincing a miniaturized pocket god that your intentions are sound came surprisingly easy to her.

That could be in part due to all the prior planning. Considering every possible argument the goddess could come up with and creating contingencies to match. Really though, taking out Tikki's own advice and laying it out as a perfect reasoning quieted her down quite nicely. Not that Tikki agreed with her, but the logic was too sound to push back on and the little bug never expected Marinette to come up with such thoughts without getting emotional. It just wasn't the way the girl was as far as Tikki was concerned. So it could only be taken at face value without the usual accusations of her being overdramatic.

It was an early Saturday when she voiced her thoughts.

"Hey Tikki?"

"Yes, Marinette?" the red bug looked up from her perch.

"Our biggest priority is to stop akumas and find Hawkmoth, correct?"

"Of course. You know that," she dismissed.

"So is it reasonable to say that Chat has been a hinderance to our duty?"

"How do you mean?"

"He distracts me or sits out on important battles. Threatens to quit if details that don't pertain to our purpose are withheld. He refuses to remain professional in the face of an attack."

"Well yes, he has been rather unhelpful lately, but then again, you are teenagers. It's to be expected, I suppose. Though I do wish he'd be a bit more focused," she easily agreed.

Marinette bit back a victorious smile and kept her expression closed off but for the determined, calculating expression she saved for important moments. Like now.

"In that case, it would be a good idea to make him focus any way I can. To make it easier. To hurry along the hunt for Hawkmoth."

Tikki's expression became weary as she stared at her welder, taken off guard by the open statement, "I don't know, Marinette...What did you have in mind?"

"Nothing yet, but I think I'm going to start brainstorming some ideas. Maybe do a little research. Something needs to change though," she emphasized, staring down her kwami with a hopeful, prodding look until she hesitantly nodded her agreement.

With the god's blessing, she turned to her tablet, pulling up everything she could on different heroes and their methods. Down the rabbit hole she fell.

…

Some thirteen hours had passed and she felt the strain of her eyes and the bright burn to her retinas for the effort of her work. She refused to believe that no inspiration would come from this effort, though she'd moved on from conventional heroes and into a more sketchy territory by now, having been let down by the uptight views of others who'd obviously never been harassed or neglected by their partner and therefore wouldn't understand her need for a more, let's say, gray solution.

She'd seen the ideals of Superman and the Lanterns and the generalized view of both the Teen Titans and Justice League alike. Many worked with partners, many had betrayals or interpersonal problems. The solution they always took was for one or both parties to leave the team and travel to opposite sides of their country. Or world. Or separate worlds. Either way, avoidance was key. That didn't really work for her though. She had to stay in close contact with her partner while not truly working together. Remain civil within the same city limits. Fight side by side even. And it's not like she could just leave her responsibility here or allow Chat to go unchecked with a miraculous on his own.

Then she stumbled upon Batman's history. The infamous bat had many a partner or sidekick with their own rough history and seemed to be operating with them regularly still. His solution to a lost or dead partner seemed to be a steady stream of replacements. Unfortunately, unlike a vigilante suit, a miraculous has to resonate with the wearer and no one she knew and trusted would fit the black cat. So she was stuck with the one.

Still though, Batman apparently had a falling out with his first Robin who became Nightwing. Those two were seen together regularly now so something must have happened to fix their issues. Gods, she was so lucky the internet seemed to stalk these people hardcore enough to have so much information on them so readily available. However, looking deeper, the resulting theories and knowledge did not bode well for her. It seems Nightwing had been in much the same state as her and with zero apologies from the Bat, had forgiven the man and resumed operations as usual. Well she was done with forgiving and forgetting. She wanted a real solution, not just rolling over and letting Chat do as he pleased!

Alright, so Batman was the Chat Noir to the Robin's Ladybug. Maybe the others fared better?

Nope, second one died.

Current one seems to be a literal feral child out to bleed Gotham dry. Not sure how that helped, though maybe she could go just psycho enough to force Chat to be the responsible one? No, he'd just try and quit again.

Huh.

There was a third and fourth one apparently? Between the murder baby and the dead one. What happened to them?

The fourth was a blonde girl with a short stint. Seems she just moved departments since many speculated she might be a batgirl or working with a few others in the city. Not much more.

But what about the other one?

The third Robin, who worked with the Teen Titans for a stint. Who worked many years under the Bat, who gave away the title to the blonde only to return after and disappear once more with the coming of the blood toddler. What happened? Where'd he go?

…

Thousands had apparently asked the same question themselves. All signs seemed to point towards a betrayal. Something went wrong. The first resigned, the second died, the third just seemed to drop off the face of the planet. Did Batman kick him out? Replace him? For child's play, sword addition? She couldn't be sure, but it seemed the most likely guess. Much more believable than alien kidnapping or a quest for a dead man or his predecessor coming to life to end him.

But what after that?

Surely, Marinette could've stopped there. Obviously, this wasn't the same as her situation, but she couldn't help but be so very intrigued. She watched videos of the boy in his Robin suit (much more practical than the first two if you asked her, though still slightly shameful) fighting and flying across rooftops and working with his team. He was so. So. Efficient. So clean. Ruthless when he decided to be. Calculated. Everything she ever wanted to be.

He was amazing.

And then he disappeared.

Where did he go, that perfect Robin. How could anyone ever think the position needed an upgrade when the perfect bird was already there? It made no sense. And then she found him. Hunting through the rogues and heroes and inbetweens of Gotham, hidden in his own layerings of cover stories and identities. Her new aspiration of what a hero should be, mixed into the Anti-heroes of the city.

The vigilante of the more morally ambiguous variety, manipulating the world to the way he saw fit, using whatever method he wished. And the way he seemed to bend the city to his whim, well it matched quite well with how she wished her own city would be. She found her solution. Now it was showtime.

…

"Are you ready to apologize, m'lady?" Chat dropped down at her side, the akuma of the week tied up below them. It was a relatively easy battle, with no need for special abilities for once.

"Whatever for, Chatton?" Marinette asked, already tensing at the response she knew she'd receive. She hated when he tried to coerce her into apologizing for things that aren't her fault.

"For your neglect of your kitten, obviously."

"I don't have a kitten," she stated plainly.

"What? You wound me, to disown me so abruptly," he put a clawed hand to his chest, offense and hurt in spades marking his features.

"I can't disown what I never adopted," she went along with the analogy so he wouldn't complain about her ruining his fun again. The last thing she needed was his whining.

He perked up with this, "Well we can draw up some adoption papers right now if you wish? I'd love to be yours," he smarmed, leaning into her space further.

This was it. Time to turn the tables. To make this work in her favor. She just needed to play it right, the way her Robin did. By manipulating the enemy into doing her bidding. She could do this.

"That's just it, though. I don't believe you would," she frowned, letting her eyes soften the way she'd seen Lila do so often. Might as well learn something from the girl.

"What? I would," he insisted, eyebrows furrowing.

"See you say that, but where's the proof? You've done nothing but pester and punish me over these weeks. You say you love me, but then watch me get hurt by akumas and make me fight all alone and threaten to leave me. That's not the actions of a loving partner. It feels like you hate me."

That had him panicking.

"No no, I don't hate you, you're my sun and my moon. My everything. Surely you know your worth in my life. I only did those things to show you how much you hurt me." He attempted to reason with her.

"See, but I've never intentionally hurt you. And always apologized to you when I realized I had. Whereas you just admitted to causing me distress as a form of punishment. It seems to me that I'm far more attached to you than you are to me and I'm just not willing to hurt myself by getting involved with someone who so obviously dislikes me."

"I- no- that's not- I love you! I didn't mean to do that, I shouldn't have. Please believe me? I love you, Ladybug," he begged, ears dropping and body tensed in fear.

"I'm sorry, but until I see some proof, I can't do that," she shook her head before taking off home without a backward glance, leaving the cat to his misery.

…

That night, Tikki went straight to bed and refused to speak to her for the next two days.

#timinette #timari #ml x dc #maribat #if she can recognize akuma victims she can recognize a costume change fight me #Dark!timinette

532 notes · View notes

bottledemotion · 3 years

Text

Our Dance Beneath the Moonlight (Diluc X Fatui reader)

- Gender neutral reader

- 1.9k+ words

- warning/s: a tiny bit suggestive but only stated/seen through words not action

- spoiler from one of the quest which is from the “Darknight Hero”

Their first meeting started with the click of their weapons together.

It was in the dead of the night where it all began. It was peaceful, not a single citizen can be seen on the usually busy street of Mondstadt, even the guards who was supposed to be on patrol in the night cannot be seen nor find on the street, all busy and occupied from the sudden slime attack on the docks, leaving the city unprotected for the night. No cicadas and frogs are singing together to fill up the silence of the night, nor the usual muffled loud, boisterous noises from each tavern. All are asleep and oblivious of the danger they're under on, too preoccupied with their own little world behind closed doors.

So it was peaceful and quiet, too quiet in fact.

Perfect for the people on the night to strike.

Or so they thought, for they forget that there's a hero that roams around in the dead of night from Mondstadt, someone who others call them the "Darknight Hero".

Which is why there were no eyes to witness the fight between a Fatui member, face hidden to the hood from their black coat, and a certain hero of the night from Mondstadt.

The hero took a leap back after their weapons- claymore and sword -connected to one another, his untamed red locks tied up to a low ponytail followed his quite graceful movements, like he was very used to it. Once the distance between them widens, he prepared his stance. He lowered his body like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. His hold from his claymore tightened as he raised its weight above and placed it behind him, ready to swing it to their way at any given moment which he will do without hesitation.

He watched them. His narrowed red ruby eyes never left the figure in front of him. He watched the slight subtle movements they make, the breath they each take, the swing of their sword that managed to take the brute force of his claymore danced from their black-gloved fingertips and air with a nonchalant grace. From the way they smirk at his way, he can tell with full conviction that they're doing those on purpose, mocking him, teasing him.

He gritted his teeth.

His enemy's smirk widens.

And to that, both immediately move forward. Their distance lessened, and both parties met each other halfway. The click of their weapons clashed to the dead silence, creating a loud echo between them. Their silent steps from the tiled roof under them and the clash of their weapons together are in sync like they're dancing together, both reciprocating the raw passion to fight and dominate the other give back to every slash of their weapon that met the other.

One could say this is how rivals truly show their hate to the other. A fight in a form of a dance. Both started on different sides, making them wary to one another, making their distance between them widen, vast and bumpy like an ocean. Despite the distance, both are willing to cross the bumpy waves of the ocean to meet each other halfway with the clash of their weapons and eyes boring to the other, eyes full of loathe and hate they didn't bother to hide.

The full moon and stars above them watched the scene unfold, being the only witness of their dance. It's moonlight cast its light beneath them, making their weapon and half of their face facing the moon be lighten and clearly be seen at night.

As their distance lessened with the collision of their weapon once again, both finally saw the other's face clearly, or what they could see and identify to the other.

Both are wearing a masquerade mask that covers the upper part of their face. One holds the symbol of a Fatui member proudly holds while the other bore a plain black one with golden patterns whirled and curled around forming different patterns on both sides of his mask. His ruby red eyes can still be seen under his mask, while the other has been covered from the dark transparent silk that every Fatui member holds, hiding their eyes from prying eyes. The hero's stare changes its course. From the mask they wore, went to their (S/c) cheeks, then to their nose and slowly descended to their soft looking lips that looks oh so tempting to caress if only it has not been formed into a smirk that shockingly and annoyingly reminds him of a certain captain from the Knights that he didn't want to remember at all.

His thoughts interrupted when the person in front of him whistled.

"My my, checking me out in the middle of the fight? Are you like this to every person you fought with?" They asked. Their voice is soft, a whisper but full of teasing in it. Making his nose scrunched up, eyebrows creased, mouth twisted into a frown.

Even the way they talk reminds him of the annoying bastard.

The hero leaps away from them again, making his enemy laugh.

He gritted his teeth and prepared his stance again. "Time to end this." He sneered at them.

The enemy chuckled and readied their stance as well. "I'd like to see you try Darknight Hero~" they taunted.

His eyes immediately turned into a glare that's so cold yet hot at the same time. He can feel his elemental skill dance on the tip of his fingertips, brushing its way there until it wrapped itself to his weapon, covering it to flames. His eyes never left his target who remained unfazed to the deadly flames directed to their way.

He didn't give them a chance to catch up nor think. One moment they're far away from each other, the next he's standing in front of them with his claymore full of flames swinging in their way.

He can feel the caress of their breath from the soft gasp escaped from their lips before colliding his weapon to them.

Or so he thought.

Because as soon as he slung his claymore, he immediately stopped, almost colliding it to the tiled roof which he now realized they're stepping on all this time. He immediately stood up straight to look for his enemy, which he saw, distance immediately widens between them in a blink of an eye, literally.

His enemy clicked their tongue. "As much as I'd like to be beaten up by you in other ways rather than that." Their words cut off from a sudden laugh came out from their mouth when they noticed the scrunched up look of the Darknight Hero it made from their comment. "I have to go now."

They turn their back on him, making their cloak do a dramatic wind effect from their movements.

They turn their face to their side to face him, but not properly. "My work here is done, so long, pretty boy. Let our faith cross path again~."

And from that, they ran away from their dance like Cinderella who's wish starts to disappear now that it struck 12 am.

Like from Cinderella’s story, he chased after them but for different reasons, and none of it are good.

"Hey!" He shouted and reached his gloved hand on them. His gloved fingertips managed to caress the edges of their hood but didn't reach enough to pull it. Instead, the wind did the job for him as they jumped their way to another building, blowing the hood away to reveal their (H/l) (H/c) hair that dances with the wind from their movements.

His enemy didn't stop running though, nor tried to pull the hood back up. Instead, they kept running, fully intended to escape the scene.

The hero tried to catch up with them, but fatigue started to take its toll on his body after a busy day at work this morning and the lack of sleep on these past few days.

So with a huff, he gave up and watched the Fatui member slowly blurred in the distance until he can't see them anymore. A bitter feeling crawled up to his spine, making him shiver, and hand formed into a fist.

Is this what defeat taste like?

"Master Diluc!"

The hero clicked his tongue and turn his attention to the person who called him, only to see three new figures approaching him, worry written on their faces.

"We took down all of the monsters. Are you okay though? What happened?" One of them asked, a blond haired traveler whose purpose is to find their other kin.

"Yeah! You're about to beat the monsters up when you immediately run away!" Another one asked, a nosy, high pitched fairy who always float and stick around to the traveler.

"Did you see another enemy approaching the city? Or is it because the Knights of Favonius immediately came from that area to aid us?" Their last companion asked, a cheeky bastard bard who always asks if he can get a taste of his dandelion wine from his tavern which he sometimes always refused.

Diluc huffed. "Both." He simply answered.

"Really?! Where's the body though?" The fairy asked as she turned left and right to look around the scene.

"They manage to escape." Diluc gritted out and crossed his arms to his chest.

"The enemy managed to escape? No wonder you look so worn out as usual. Did the enemy manage to take your brute force? Or is it because of fatigue finally catching up to you?" The bard teased. He can feel his smirk present to his face as he said those.

"Someone managed to take his brute force? No offense Tone-Deaf Bard but Paimon thinks no one will ever manage to take the brute force of his flames." The fairy- Paimon -said.

"Seriously, what happened?" The traveler asked

Diluc remove his stare to them and brings it back to the road that the Fatui member ran off from. He remembered the (S/c) skin, the soft-looking lips and (H/l) (H/c) hair of his enemy. Printing those from his mind so when they meet again, he won't hesitate to attack them no matter the circumstances and area they are on.

"It's just fatigue catching up to me." He replied yet didn't turn his way nor attention to them. The world around him got blurred and drowned, so he didn't see and hear the bard sigh from his reply and the traveler's grow of concern and worry for him that they started talking about something that became static from his ears.

All of his focus turned to the enemy he fought moments ago. The person who manage to hold its stand on the entire fight despite wielding a sword on a fight whose enemy they faced holds a claymore. The person who manage to dodge his elemental skill in a blink of his eyes.

He wonder how they manage to do that. Questions start to whirl around his mind but he brings those thoughts on the back of it when he makes up a goal, a mission, a promise.

To defeat them in a fight. To make them submit to their dance.

He can't call himself strong when he didn't bring down an enemy who's blade is thinner than his.

"Calm down Traveler! Paimon sure he'll get them next time!" He heard the small fairy said.

"Right Master Diluc?"

Diluc turned his attention back to them. His usual stoic expression plastered to his face, the only difference to it is the sudden glow from his eyes, fire full of passion and determination. Making the witnesses of its expressions change, all hold curiosity and questions at the sudden change of it.

"Yeah, I definitely will."

So with that, he can't wait to see them again.

He can't wait to see their faith cross paths again with the collision of their weapons together beneath the moon and stars.

------------------------------------------------------------

A.N: I just wanna write two individuals having a sword fight under the moonlight while trying not to get love at first sword fight, which in Diluc's case, failing but he's not aware of it cause......it's him sooooooo-.

Sorry if some of the characters came out OOC, still trying to grasp their characterization ^ ^"

Thank you for reading!

#genshin impact #genshin impact diluc #diluc x gender neutral reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x reader #mywritings

82 notes · View notes

dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

Genji Heavy Industries (Part 4) Elevators

I had a lot of fun with this. I hope you enjoy it.

Ahead of you was the low, narrow passage, no windows as far as the eye could see. Ventilation fans are spinning slowly behind grates. The walls are spray painted a heavy rusty red. Walking directions are written in white paint that you couldn't read. This was the Inner district, a place that felt mildly suffocating, with an element of unease in the air. Caesar walked in front with a Desert Eagle in each hand, fully focused on the possible danger at any time. Chu Zihang held a sword at the rear, you and Lu Mingfei walked between the two, passing one white light after another. The institute felt mysterious here, like an infinitely extended maze that secretly held a minotaur.

You fall into step with Caesar, matching him stride for stride. It was known as “Wolf Walking”. When traveling through snow, you used the foot falls of another as a pathway. Not only did this ease the exertion of trudging through the snow yourself, it also created a minimal disturbance in the snow. It concealed the numbers of the people following through the area. Even though you were one of dozens of children, the actual population at the port was hidden this way. You would see a single trail of footprints where dozens of children had passed.

In this case, even if someone could hear your footsteps, they would think that there were three men in this passageway. Your presence wouldn’t be noticed until it was too late.

You crossed the walkway without incident. There was nothing odd at the end of the walkway, just an elevator, and, surprisingly there were no special security measures in the inner area, probably because the Hydra thought it was impossible to invade the inner area. So they didn't add a cumbersome access control system here. The elevator door opens right up and lets you inside.

"Boss, which floor should we go to?" Lu Mingfei looked at the densely packed floor buttons.

You take Chu Zihang’s advice and bite your tongue. There was no need to ask any questions. Caesar would figure things out. Your job was just to do what he told you. But Lu Mingfei thought with his mouth. Every thought bubble was, for him, a speech bubble. It was like trying to perform a covert operation with a large tropical parrot. You just wanted to turn around, shoot it into a cloud of feathers and move on. But Caesar was far more generous and patient, not paying it much mind, and scolding you for doing so.

On reflection, your impatient attitude was a product of your upbringing. You were brutal because the environment and the people around you were brutal. There was no need to viciously swear at Mingfei and punish him. You did it on impulse because that was how it was always done. Once again, Caesar was showing you another way to be.

Every time you worked with him in dangerous situations that goodness was like light to penetrate the dark, but now your mind dove elsewhere, back into the memory of his opening the door wearing nearly nothing. You feel the heat rise to your face involuntarily. You blink rapidly to clear your head, mentally swearing at yourself for your lack of focus and glancing around to make sure that no one saw.

A new problem emerged. This skyscraper had more than fifty floors. Some were garage floors. Some were equipment floors. Others were mezzanine floors, half floors that didn't need to be named by numbers. Typically, in a modern high-rise, an elevator can only reach certain parts of the building. The ground level general office elevator would not reach Hydra level. A cargo elevator would not need to access every floor, only the floors where the cargo needed to go. But the elevator in the inner district can lead to the majority of floors. It was all accessible.

"Wow! Didn't think about it." Caesar frowned.

And just like that, the light was switched off. What did he mean he didn’t think about which floor in a one hundred floor highrise was going to be the right one?!

“Truth be told, I didn’t think that it was absolutely necessary to go straight to Kaguya tonight. I just wanted to feel my way in and see how it went. If it weren’t for that submarine, I would have gone back, but it blocked our path.”

Your mental rifle now swung from the ‘Tropical Parrot’ to put Captain Underpants in the crosshairs!

"So, brother, do you have the structural diagram of this building?" Lu Mingfei asked Chu Zihang.

Chu Zihang shook his head: "Do you think there will be such information on the Internet? Even if there is, the information of the inner district will not be included in it."

God.

You hang your head, your hair falling over your eyes to shroud your face in shadow.

You feel a soft pat on your shoulder and look up again. Chu Zihang, stoic, was taking a page from Caesar’s book and trying to comfort you. You needed it. It took everything in you not to fall into his arms, have him offer you champagne, and give you permission to cry if you’re sad!

They had actually walked all the way to the inner district, but now their minds were blank. The last time they came as VIPs. There were uniformed high-heeled secretaries to guide them, and they were quick to press the floor button. You were so overwhelmed by the amazing things around you that you never thought to pay attention to which floor you were on, having never been in such a magnificent highrise in your life.

You let out a soft breath of air. “Permission to speak sir?”

Caesar gives you an odd look. “Oh… right. No one’s around so it’s okay to talk.”

You look up at him. “Such a large pumping station requires adequate ventilation, not only for the staff inside but to avoid creating vacuums that might collapse the pipes. Now that we’re inside we see a lot of ventilation fans. Those vents are likely part of a larger network. You can use your Speech Spirit to follow the noise of the guards in the Iron Dome Temple and get back out.”

Caesar beamed at you. “Excellent observation, MC. I’ll keep that in mind. But since we’ve made it this far, it would be a shame to go back now. Why not go straight to the source of the issue? The most important floor must be the top floor! Let’s go to the top and take a look!"

What? Wasn’t he just now talking about wanting to go back? He looked dumbfounded and confused but his mind was actually running a mile per second and he’d arrived at the conclusion of, ‘Screw it, let’s go.’ before you could collect your thoughts. If you had been faster on the uptake, perhaps you could have slipped the suggestion in, but now his mind was locked in place and it was impossible to change it.

"Damn, the most important floor is also the most heavily guarded, right? I say go to the 12th floor first! I remember that the 12th floor seems to be the floor with all those phone operators. Even if they recognize us, once we pull out our guns, the girls will be scared! We still have time to escape!" Lu Mingfei hurriedly objected, "Right, brother?”

Both you and Mingfei turn and look desperately at Chu Zihang. Perhaps if you had his backing you would be able to avoid going along with Caesar’s harebrained decision.

"The operator room is located on the 14th floor, you are remembering wrongly." Chu Zihang said, expressionless, "but I agree with Caesar's idea. Since we don't know which floor to start from, might as well go straight to the yellow dragon!"

Now you just want to kill all of them.

“You want to go back home right, MC?” Chu Zihang glanced down at you again.

“My home is gone.” You grumble bitterly, crossing your arms.

"Hey hey hey hey! Listen to me! Listen to me! Although the top floor is important, Hydra would not use a top tier place as a machine room, right? The main purpose of our visit is to blow up the core of Kaguya, right?" Lu Mingfei hurriedly made up excuses not to go there, flapping his arms in desperate parrot-like gestures while you watched, sullen. "First, the main quest then the side quests, right? Let's blow up the Kaguya computer system first, and then go to the top floor to sweep, okay?"

You drop your arms in impatience. “Just stop talking, Mingfei. We can’t see the top floor if we blow up the computer, d- ” You barely manage to avoid ending that sentence with ‘dumbass’, because the elevator cut you off with ‘ding!’ And you suddenly feel a strange vertigo as the elevator stops! It was rising up and you were all too busy arguing to notice!

Lu Mingfei freezes, his face going pale. You, Caesar and Chu Zihang, however, put your hands on your guns and as one form a wall between the door and Mingfei Lu.

You’re on the 21st floor but you have no idea what it was and there was no guide on the side of the elevator to tell you. But the elevator rose because someone called it. So someone had to be on the other side of the door! Your eyes sweep upward to the ceiling. You might be able to find an escape through those tiles, but more likely you would be shot trying.

The door opened. A woman appeared, looking like a secretary and wearing a white shirt and A-line skirt. She was in such a hurry to get in that she ran into Caesar chest to chest. They are both tense for a moment, like tigers who caught each other unawares. The secretary slowly looked up, and Caesar, a head taller than her, coldly stared at her.

This was not a young girl, but a mature woman of nearly 30 years. Though she had a hot, curvy body, with a beautiful face, you recognized the cold in those eyes. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen her. She was Nanami Sakurai and was one of the important people of Hydra. You met her briefly on your tour and introduction to the Japan Branch. You quickly lower your eyes, but she was already face to face with Caesar. Caesar had his dark makeup on and was dressed differently, but he was still himself and he was hard to forget.

At this moment, her eyes were sweeping Caesar from bottom to top, her gaze sharp as a knife, as if she wanted to cut Caesar apart inch by inch. You wished you had a telepathic link to Caesar’s brain to tell him to move! Your fundamental understanding of cruel leadership instinctively clued you in to her expectation. She expected him to know what to do. If people like her ever had to tell you what to do, then they would make sure they wouldn’t have to repeat themselves ever again!

Sakurai Nanami's eyes were suddenly murderous!

"Bakayarou!” A loud slap hit Caesar's face.

Caesar froze. A clear palm mark quickly appeared on his face despite the make up.

You remembered being slapped like this. You had been carrying a stack of dishes. You couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old. You stepped in something wet and the plates fell to the concrete floor and broke, every single one. You still remember the eyes of the nurse who was bearing down on you while you stood rooted to the spot. They were cold and completely black, like a shark’s. She took your wrist in her hand and slapped you so hard that your vision flashed white and your whole head went numb.

She slapped you like you had wanted to slap Lu Mingfei back at the entrance of Genji Heavy Industries.

She screamed at you the way Sakurai Nanami was screaming now. It was all in Japanese and you couldn’t understand the exact words, but the exact words didn’t matter. You grabbed Caesar’s hand and pulled him out of the elevator.

You get several steps away before Caesar digs his heels in. “Hey, stop, stop…” He whispers.

Several Executive Board officers running to and fro, each carrying boxes of documents. The floor was divided by rows of large bookshelves that went up to the roof on which stood bound files covered with plain white leather cases. Except for Sakurai Nanami, who was in a white uniform dress, everyone on this floor was wearing a very similar dress to yours, and everyone was doing their own job. Some were responsible for boxing up the documents on the shelves, others were counting and filling out spreadsheets, and the moving team was responsible for carrying the sealed boxes of documents to the freight elevator; only a few people were not involved in this intense and orderly move. They patrolled around with their hands on the handles of their guns, and it was obvious that the value of these documents was extraordinary.

“Quick, act natural and not like a scared rabbit!” Caesar hissed, shoving you forward.

You snap into form and grab a box. Your hands are trembling. You couldn’t remember the last time you were scared like this. Usually, when faced with danger, you went ice cold or got angry. However, when faced with Nanami Sakurai you felt the terror of being seven years old again.

You take a breath and school yourself to stay calm. Your hair and eyes were dark and you wouldn’t stand out here at all. It was fine.

You were fine.

You imitated the people in front of you as you put the file box in front of the elevator. Someone was responsible for recording and checking the number on the file box, then the box was covered by a black cloth and sent into the elevator.

The person in charge of taking notes waved a pencil in his hand and the people behind him paused, the Executive Board officer who remained in the elevator nodded and said "HAI", and the elevator took him with the stacked boxes up the elevator shaft.

All the entry and exit routes were guarded by Board officers. With the vast amount of paperwork here, you couldn’t stay here to wait too long or you would be discovered.

"They are counting. Each time the elevator is loaded with fifty boxes of documents, the person who moves the last box in is responsible for escorting the documents upstairs, and the fiftieth person who moves the boxes in can leave." Chu Zihang whispered as he passed.

The Japanese Hydra are very organized. Each time the number of boxes of documents transported in the elevator reached fifty boxes, the fiftieth porter naturally acted as an escort. All this was, was the efficient division of labor, as precise as an automated machine. It was no wonder you were familiar with it immediately without even understanding the language. You realize that -- from your penchant towards violence, to your immediate and rigid obedience to leadership -- you probably would fit in more with Hydra then you would with Cassell Academy.

It makes you wonder how Chu Zihang got in with the Academy to be able to notice something like this so quickly. His degree of precision is just like yours. He also seemed to agree with you more often than not about deadly force. You look at him and observe that he’s controlling the speed of his work. You need to position yourselves to make sure that each of you is the fiftieth person on the elevator each time. And you need to do this three times in a row. Even if you do it perfectly, because each elevator takes ten minutes to fill, it will take you thirty minutes to get out.

Unfortunately, perfection is not Lu Mingfei’s strong suit. It wasn’t even in his vocabulary. Without a glance or word, both you and Chu Zihang tacitly agree that Mingfei should get on the elevator first for the best result.

But you’re overruled just as fast.

Caesar passes you. “I’m first. Chu Zihang, you’re second, MC, third, Mingfei last.”

Every expletive you’ve ever learned in your entire life passes through your mind in a flash.

“Boss!” Mingfei squeaked. “Haven’t you heard of women and children first?!”

“If anyone’s going to be caught here, it’s going to be me.”

You then notice. The enclosed space was hot. Caesar was starting to sweat, and once he started sweating his make up would be really noticeable.

"Since this building was built, this is the first time the police department has issued a search warrant for us, right? What are they looking for?" A familiar voice suddenly sounded behind Caesar's head.

Caesar's body shook slightly, and the Director of the Executive Board, Gen Chisei, the leader of the entire Hydra Clan, the man that Caesar had made a statement of friendship with - only for him to leave Caesar to die at the bottom of the Japanese Trench - was standing behind him!

Chu Zihang keenly perceived the killing aura, not Gen Chisei's killing aura but Caesar's. The muscles on the side of Caesar's face involuntarily pulled tight, revealing the sharp lines of light skin.

He is not afraid ...... he is angry!

#Dragon Raja

14 notes · View notes

flydotnet · 3 years

Text

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled).

To what extent would go to save someone else's life?

This prompt was always going to be difficult, but hey, I did manage to come up with an interesting solution to it... or, at least, that's why I'd like to think. I originally planned on having Naomi for "I Should Have Been Better" (as I told Doc multiple times, "what better character for it than Naomi?", but the guy is having the last laugh about this one now, that's for sure). Some soul out there will have recognized the title from somewhere and understood what we're heading for because, yes, this entire story was inspired by the fact I wanted to use this semi-obscure reference as a title. You'll see what I mean later. Anyway, this fic was pretty cool to write, even if, again, I suffer from writing too much build-up because I want to explore a universe I'm probably never going to touch ever again. This is starting to grow into a recurring issue with me, it'd seem. Oh well, if it inspires someone's work, then I'm all good with my penchant for copious amounts of worldbuilding.

Also, Alyssa and Naomi's relationship is wonderful and it's a shame I haven't written it before, what the fuck me.

---------

Androzani

Summary: When faced with the prospect of her newest companion's potential death, Naomi is ready to put everything on the line... even her life.

Fandom: Trauma Center/Team (fantasy AU)

Wordcount: 3K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

---------

Her shoulders bear the weight of her losses – friends she had to leave behind, people whose death she couldn’t prevent, companions that never were – yet Naomi has kept moving, trying to shove her past behind her anywhere she walks, as if going through purgatory for eternity.

Her reputation has preceded her for decades, by now: the woman dressed in black with silver hair like the pale moonlight, going from place to place. Nobody knows of her true intent, whether she sides with good or evil, with life or death until they discover she is a healer who was banished from her native region due to some sort of catastrophic event long forgotten by history.

How ironic is that someone whose roots got cut off by a guillotine is still alive and roaming this world when, surely, her supposed people have all died from illness, injury or natural causes by now: it has, after all, been a thousand years since the “Corpse Whisperer” got forced into exile over the supposed curse she bore, the curse which spread an illness she still doesn’t have an answer to over towns and villages until it just disappeared with her.

On her travels, she met a lot of people, some of whom travelled with her for a time, some whom she barely got to know.

There was Nathan, a boy who had escaped from a doomsday cult. He was an eager companion, swearing he’d follow her until the end of the world would have she decided so, because she was the first friend he had ever gotten – he died saving her, rather than the other way around, when a spear plunged inside his chest and only came out when his blood had stopped flowing and his skin had turned to clay. She closed his eyes, buried him and marked the grave with white lilac, never to look back again.

There was Ivan, a man barely younger than her supposed age, who wanted to understand her and help her save people with his benevolent magic and overwhelmingly positive intentions. He fought hard against near-death situations, some where she had decided it was better to expect death than survival, but his optimism kept these people alive. She had tot leave him behind after he contracted a lethal disease and he couldn’t keep with her, leaving behind the bitter taste of failure, loneliness and uncertainty. She never went back to where their ways parted, afraid to know the inevitable answer as to his whereabouts.

There was Cassandra, a middle-aged woman with a stern face and an inexorable will. Despite all the hardships she had faced in her life, she had always stood back up, without even displaying any sort of pain. She had grown a reputation for her ruthless methods, being ostracized, and travelled with her so she could mend her ways and heal who she could with the apothecary knowledge she had been blessed with during her youth. She drank her own poison so she wouldn’t have to surrender in the face of certain defeat, plunging herself in an eternal sleep, while Naomi could only watch, wrists and ankles keeping her from acting, until these dissolved and she could avenge her fallen friend. Cassandra’s breath never went out, so Naomi made her a chamber hidden in a deep, dense forest in a hope that, someday, she’d find the antidote Cassandra had spilled on the ground.

There was Eglantine, a girl barely in her teens, who went to follow her because her parents had abandoned her and everybody else thought she was cursed because of her unusually pale skin, hair and eyes, thinking she was a stillborn animated by a malevolent spirit. Beneath her skin was an incredible potency, which she didn’t dare use until she needed to. Her short life ended in a tragic, senseless sacrifice when she rushed into battle and blocked an enemy’s way so Naomi could run away and “get out alive”, as she had screamed before taking an entire group of thieves with her to a certain death.

There have been a lot of them, over the centuries, but none of them have been immortals like her. None of them have healing magic as powerful as hers, none of them can endure so much. All of them have promised her to stay with her until she could settle down again, none of them could ever hold these promises, and it’s fine to her: she’s used to involuntarily broken promises. She’s used to the feeble nature of humans, of the uncursed ones.

She has grown more and more hesitant to accept new companions, over time. She tried to be cold towards them, to use her sombre reputation as a deterring agent – but some people are just in need of misery’s company, even her, and so they stick around until illness, injury, death, love or opportunity split them apart and the cycle continues. Naomi is used to it. She doesn’t even give her name to people anymore: it’s easier for both sides if these companions call them by whatever nickname the rumours about her convey.

The “Corpse Whisperer” is only one facet of her fictional identity, one of her many names and perhaps the least flattering. Over the years, she has accumulated them: “Cursed One”, “Black Healer”, “Reaping Doctor”, “Nameless Widow”, “Lady of the Last Sight”… Everywhere she’s gone, they’ve adopted a new name for her, to the point the name she was given at birth is nothing but lost to the sands of times, like numerous books she’s read, like the names of her fallen companions. So much things pass by your eyes when time doesn’t affect you anymore. Such is her curse, after all.

Even with time, the wounds left by her losses never truly scar. Every death in which she’s had some amount of responsibility weight on her shoulders, even if as time passes, she starts to forget more and more the individuality of her former partners. And, the heavier the luggage gets, the darker she tries to be, the more reclusive she behaves, so someone else doesn’t have to get hurt while following her on her eternal quest to heal others and, maybe, just maybe, finally find the way to end her own life.

Still, despite how much she has cried and screamed already, death continues to affect her when she can see blood on her hands or a cold limb at her feet. Even recently, she got bit in the throat by the death of two parents who had crossed her ways in unfortunate circumstances and she came too late to save them. As they let out their last breath, she met eyes with a curious little girl’s green irises full of life, and that’s when she knew – Naomi would be traveling with someone else once more.

Neither Alyssa nor she had a choice in the matter. The poor girl didn’t have any remaining relatives and the place where she lived was infested by werewolves, the same species that had killed her parents. Naomi couldn’t leave someone as young and frail as a ten-year-old girl suffer in the claws of the wolves on two legs that couldn’t control their animalistic urges. It quickly became her mission to redeem herself from letting two new persons die in front of her eyes by bringing Alyssa to a safe haven where she could have a normal life until Naomi herself found a solution to the lycanthropic problem.

However, and despite having guessed what happened, despite all of her tears and all of her pain, Alyssa has always told Naomi she didn’t hold anything against her, that she did her best when she tried to use her magic to bring back to life the recently deceased. Her smile, which at first was timid and more of a façade, has grown into an earnest one. Every time she sees it, it warms Naomi’s heart, but it reminds her head to remain cool and not to get attached because it’ll end badly for the both of them.

For a while, it was fine to have Alyssa around. They mostly went from village to village, from city to city, and Naomi made sure her protégée wasn’t in contact with the filth and contagion of the sick. Healed bone after healed bone, cured sickness after cured sickness, Naomi found herself enjoying the light-hearted chatters of Alyssa, going from refusing to answer her various questions on the world and herself to replying to them with more and more details.

It was already too late, by that point, but Naomi still liked to believe Alyssa would one day leave on her own terms and her wounds just heal for once. After all, they were only travelling together because Alyssa needed a new home to grow up in and have a chance at a normal life after the atrocious had happened.

However, that delusion has come to an end, as she’s now forced to make the biggest choice in her life, one that could cost her everything. At long last, the taste of death and the melody of the epilogue come back to her, making her feel more alive than ever, but at what price?

Alyssa has been poisoned with what she can only assume to have been a powerful, yet not instantly deadly substance. She missed catching its name when someone told her what was happening to Alyssa, what was causing her the rashes and the fever that keeps going up and up, but it reminds her of something – animantha toxaemia. A beautiful flower whose pollen has killed its fair share of humans, with no real cure known aside from a taxing healing spell, one forbidden not by choice, but by need.

Their meeting with the flower was unfortunate. Alyssa and she were on the run from some unforeseen adversaries and, once they had successfully lost them in the forest, Alyssa got curious about the deep purple beauty of the flower’s petals. Alyssa touched it when she inspected it before Naomi could remove the girl’s fingers from the stem and petals. Both are running away from death. Quite ironic, coming from the woman who was once nicknamed “the Silver Reaper”, but… what matters isn’t her fate, it’s Alyssa’s.

Naomi has managed to get them both out of the forest, but unfortunately, she’s starting to feel the paralysis effects of the flower in her legs, and that’s when she realizes she must have been in contact with a lethal dose of the flower’s poison. One thing the curse hasn’t protected her from is illnesses of this kind, and judging by the fever poor Alyssa has fallen victim to, she doesn’t count on staying alive much longer. She’d have expected herself to be pleasantly surprised by the prospect of finally passing away, since she has seen so much already, and roaming the Earth for about four centuries is starting to take a toll on her spirit – but she has never felt so alive, because danger is a powerful catalyser, and she has a life to save.

A final life, judging by what she needs to pay for what she’s about to do, but a worthy price to pay and perhaps the life that has mattered the most to her throughout her long, elongated life. She’s torn about having to leave Alyssa to her own devices, but they’re in a village, now, and Naomi hopes the inhabitants that took enough pity on them to lend them the small house they’re currently in will help her. She’s still young, barely fourteen, and she doesn’t want Alyssa to struggle again once she’s gone.

There’s no time to question it, however. The toxaemia has four stages, the last being an inexorable rise of internal temperature until the affected person inevitably dies. However, she can’t let that happen, and she has to act quick, because getting the both of them back to a safer haven has taken so long that Alyssa is at least in the third stage and, again, judging from her temperature, is crossing into the last before… before the inevitable happens.

There are numerous times where she wanted to give her life to save another, but never got to do it because the other person died before her eyes before she ever could or because they did it first, leaving her alone again, most of them eternally unaware of her immortality. Now, however, she’s the one who has to do it, because Alyssa isn’t a mage like her, wasn’t born with the ability to cast spells, and she’s someone who deserves to live life at its fullest, unlike her.

Naomi has made her decision the moment she touched the flower and nothing is going to make her go back on her decision – aside from the idea to leave Alyssa alone, but the girl has made some friends in the village due to how kind she is, so at least, Naomi has some hope. If her companions have shown her something, it’s that there still are good people in this world, no matter how many atrocities she’s seen.

Almost three centuries ago, she learnt spells that are now forbidden. One of them, whose original scroll has been burnt in an attempt to silence its deadly power, is the antidote to animantha poisoning. There may have been another way, hidden away in a forgotten script or still being conceived by some hermit mage or witch living in remote woods, but she doesn’t have the time to question it. All she can do, now, is apply the formula as she’s learnt it, hoping her spell memory has exceeded human standards. The curse should have at least given her that, if she was to become the Codex of Magic.

Her last name – the “Codex of Magic”, the true purpose of the curse inflicted on her so many years ago. How ironic, considering she’s lent all of the scripts she’s copied again in the bag she always carries with her, that she dies by the hands of one of the spells she was meant to preserve for prosperity. Even if she survives, she won’t be able to use the spell on herself afterwards in a timely manner, so she hopes Alyssa carries on her will. That’s all she wants.

Ignoring the pain in her limbs and her own rising fever, Naomi gathers her powers in both palms of her hands, summoning all of her healing prowess for one last show. The spell calls for specific incantations, which flow out of her mouth as if she was born to say them at some point – something about summoning the power of hope itself, serving as its vessel for a miracle, giving up one’s life for the sake of another. The spell was named “Hope of the Unending Agape” for a reason, after all, and Naomi doesn’t have anything else to lose.

The amount and intensity of the mana running through her entire body is searing her from the inside as her hands carefully cradle Alyssa on the bed of the house, cupping the girl’s face as the mage hopes it will work as intended. Alyssa must survive, it’s all that matters, she doesn’t care about the price of it all, just give this girl her life back, don’t take her away from the mortal realm so soon, not when she has so much to see and discover, so much to live and smile at.

Hope can take her soul, she doesn’t care, but that flower won’t take away Alyssa’s, she swears on her life. One has lived for too long and the other is too young to pass away.

This spell feels like inflicting agony on oneself, so her vision is starting to give in and so do most of her sense following it. She’s burning on the inside, either from the spell or from the toxaemia, but there’s no way for her to distinguish anymore. What she knows, however, is that Alyssa’s skin is cooling down and her tremors are fading away. This is more than a relief: she’ll survive. Alyssa will see another day and have the life she deserves, sunny and beautiful.

Little by little, frame by frame, Alyssa’s complexion regains its colour, the red stains on her cheeks disappearing. The sweat that was pearling on her skin fades away. Her frowned feature relax and give way to a peaceful expression, as if she had been sleeping all along. It’s a beautiful sight, really.

However, the same can’t be said for Naomi, as a huff of platinum smoke escapes from her lips and she collapses in pain. She has exhausted every cell of her being, or so it feels like, and it’s up to the curse to see if she’s worth saving – she doubts it, because a curse is a curse, and being a benefactor for its host would go against its own nature.

It very much feels like she’s dying, at long last. Her vision is mostly black now, safe for a couple blurry shapes, and most of her senses have already given in: her hearing has been replaced with a sort of slightly disturbed silence, she can’t tell what she’s touching and the only taste in her mouth is that of copper and iron. All she can feel are the tears going down her cheeks and the relief that, at least, someone is getting out of this alive.

Despite technically meeting her end at the hands of a toxic flower, Naomi doesn’t see it this way: she views her demise as the ultimate act to save a life and, as such, doesn’t have the shadow of a regret. Sure, there may have been things she’d have wished to do before she’d die, and her survival is a very unlikely gambit on the curse acting up; but they don’t matter compare to the reasons why she did such a thing, why she took on someone’s deadly pain onto herself.

The only thing she’ll be missing is the warmth of Alyssa’s voice…

When Alyssa wakes up from something that was between a dream and a nightmare, which she can’t remember aside from the magnificent gaze of a solar goddess looking to her eyes, she quickly realizes what she saw in her sleep wasn’t a figment of her imagination – and immediately knows, upon touching long and slender lukewarm hands, she has a task to accomplish to pay back a life-changing favour.

#bad things happen bingo #trauma center #trauma team #naomi kimishima #alyssa breslin #empathic healing #my writing #tw death #angst #bthb

7 notes · View notes

watarigarasu · 4 years

Text

May 30th – "I royally fucked up.”

Lyn’s Writing Event

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

Word count: 2,268

Warnings: None

Author’s note: None

The very last thing Thorin expected to witness in the middle of the night in the halls of Erebor was your curled frame resting against the heavy door leading to the kitchen. It was dark around you, the dim flames from the torches giving just enough light to spot your silhouette and the face hidden in hands, and the mere sight worried him deeply. Something bad must have happened, especially considering the fact that at that time you were supposed to be in bed.

Completely forgetting about the midnight snack which was occupying his thoughts for some time now, making it impossible to focus on answering the letter he received just yesterday, Thorin approached you carefully, his steps ever so firm and steady, echoing in an empty hall and making you look up at the intruder. Realizing that you were caught by the King himself, you quickly wiped your cheeks, hoping that he won’t notice how red and swollen your eyes have become.

“What is wrong?” he asked patiently and the low, calm tone of his voice was enough to make your lips tremble yet again.

You were so weak against him, your heart in an open hand and the feelings for him just waiting to burst into flames, explode with the chaotic mosaic of words and smiles and tears and embraces—but you remained silent, knowing that it was not your place to confess your undying love for the King. Ironically, it was him of all the people who found you in such a miserable state and if you did not thought that fate was mocking you before by making you fall in love with Thorin, then it surely was now, placing him in front of your face that night.

“My King,” you muttered, ready to stand up to greet him properly but he stopped you with a single move of the wrist and then sat next to you on the stone stair.

Just like that, as if you were still on the quest to reclaim his home—as friends.

And nothing more.

“Tell me what happened,” he ordered, either mad at you for unintentionally interrupting his busy schedule or concerned about your state, which one, you could not guess.

You wiped your runny nose, mentally cursing yourself for not hiding before he could spot you. As if your current appearance was not humiliating enough, your short explanation completed the picture of an utter disaster.

“I royally fucked up.”

If the situation was not as serious, Thorin would smile at the choice of words. Right now, however, he had to know the truth, the helplessness eating him from the inside. He was ready to move the mountains for you already, to dismiss anyone who made you feel that way, to use his status and wealth to solve any kind of problem you were facing now. He could do all of that, apparently, but what he feared the most was that he could not mend your broken heart.

“How so?”

You peeked at him; the royal furs covered the traditional tunic making you remember that it was, indeed, quite a cold night, even though your face was burning from the amount of crying. He looked as marvelous as always, the braids in his hair clipped with beads, neatly trimmed beard entangled with silver and the depth of his blue eyes staring right at your soul, the overflowing worry extinguishing any other emotions.

“It is pointless and certainly should not bother you, My King.”

“I decide what is and what is not my concern, do I not?” he stated. “Besides, there is no reason for you to address me this way, we were friends long before I gained the title.”

Friends.

“But I do not want to be just your friend, Thorin,” you wanted to say. “I want to love you freely, I want to kiss you boldly, I want to make love to you feverishly, I want to hold you dearly, I want to greet you daily, I want to stay by your side, as your loyal friend and a caring partner until death do us apart—and even longer, until the last star on the sky will fade away.”

But you said nothing and Thorin was still looking at you, waiting for an answer.

“You were always the king,” you told him then, smiling delicately at the memory of the day you saw him for the first time. “Title or not. There or in Ered Luin.”

“I appreciate that you think so.”

Then, there was the silence buzzing in your ears. You were sitting there, on the stair next to the kitchen door—a mere human woman and the Dwarven King under the Mountain—and somehow you wished you could remain like this forever.

Still, Thorin deserved an explanation but he knew better than to rush you and simply waited patiently for the moment you would be ready to talk. Eventually, you started.

“You do remember what day is tomorrow, right?” you asked.

“Today, if you consider the current hour,” he corrected you. “But I do remember, how could I not.”

You nodded. It was his birthday, the one hundred ninety sixth birthday, the first one he was going to spend in his beloved home with his family and friends. There was going to be an enormous feast, music and dancing until the morning, tables breaking under the weight of various foods and drinks, the presents, the wishes, the guests from other lands. Certainly, you would not have many opportunities to talk to him tomorrow for he would surely be even more busy than always.

“That is why, I wanted to do something special,” you explained quietly.

“In the kitchen?”

You nodded pitifully, suddenly remembering the mess you left behind and before you could react, Thorin was already on his feet, grabbing the doorknob.

“No, no, no, you cannot get in there now!” Leaning on the door with your whole weight, you hoped that you will eventually manage to convince him to not to peek inside.

“Do not be ridiculous. I was heading there either way, so you will have to let me it whether you like it or not.”

“I forbid it.” You were growing desperate, aware that if he only wanted to, he could easily push you off with the whole door and so, you clinged to it more.

“Do you now?” he teased. “Where did ‘My King’ go all of a sudden?”

“Exactly where you wanted it to after telling me to stop calling you that, now Thorin, please, do not open these door. You do not want to see what is behind them.”

“Nonsense.” He pulled the door slightly and you had to use your whole strengths to keep it in place—unsuccessfully. “I understand why are you upset and I will prove you that whatever happened there is no reason to cry over whatsoever.”

“It really is. Thorin, no–!“

After opening the kitchen’s door, Thorin thought only one thing: you truly were not exaggerating. There was not a single clean bowl or pot in the sight, nor there was an inch of the free space on the counters. Knives and spoons scattered all over the working table, various kinds of fruits and vegetables cut in different piles, the herbs brought from the pastry smelling all over the hall in a surprising mix, meat chopped on the cutting board ready to be roasted, every single seasoning taken from the shelf and prepared to be used, and some leftovers of the flour, thyme leaves and the dark stains on the floor. There was also one cup with broken handle.

It seemed as if you were trying to cook every single meal for tomorrow’s party all by yourself.

You stood behind him, eyeing the battlefield with a frown, feeling how the tears were burning your eyes once again.

“I was trying to do something special,” you repeated and passed by speechless Thorin to grab one of the many heavy books lying on the counter, opened on the first chapter and marked with the flour stains. “Balin recommended this book to me, I found it in a library. There are countless receipts for your traditional dishes but it turns out, I did not have all the supplies to make it.” You turned few pages, not wanting to look Thorin in the eyes. “So I started looking for something else but in the end I kept oversalting the sauce even though I was doing it exactly as they written here. Then I thought about starting something easier, maybe a tart with fruits but apparently someone has spilled something over the last few paragraphs, which I did not notice until turning the page and it was just…” You closed the book with a loud thud. “Pointless endeavour.”

Thorin was so quiet during your whole speech that for a moment you thought that maybe he went out. When you looked up, though, you noticed him standing in the same place, now staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“I am not wealthy, I cannot give you gold nor gems,” you admitted with a shrug. “Besides, what could I give to a king who already has everything?”

“No,” he stated all of a sudden and for a moment you believed that he was angry at you.

Thorin approached you slowly, not breaking an eye contact until he was right in front of you, your heart clenching in the chest in a dreadful anticipation and your breath caught in your lungs. How could you ever thought that you could win his heart with your pitiful attempts in cooking when he could have everything he wanted, served on a golden plate? How could you imagine him looking at you differently, even if for a while? How could he ever love you?

“You did all of this for me?” he asked and you admitted the truth, your vision becoming blurry.

“Surprise…” It was the most pitiful moment in your whole life and you wished the earth could swallow you whole.

You did not want to cry in front of him anymore, but goodness, the more you looked at him, the more miserable you felt. He was such a generous, kind soul, he deserved much more than a burned tart and a promise of love for barely next forty or fifty years. He deserved the world, the stars and oceans, he deserved happiness and complement, he deserved to love and be loved.

He was the love of your life and he has never been so close yet so far away from you.

You burst into tears when he embraced you firmly and held your shaking frame to himself. The furs covering his shoulders tickled your nose and you could feel the scent of his hair, his beard against your temple and strong arms around you. It was the safest place in the whole world and you would be willing to sacrifice everything just to never leave his side.

Thorin gently stroked your hair, allowing you to spill your tears over his robes and not paying the slightest attention to your runny nose, ugly sobs and puffy eyes. He was ready to stay like that with you for however long you would need to calm down, gently caressing you and muttering calming words in his language, which you could not understand. Your devotion was astonishing, your breakdown even more but it made him realize that there was, indeed, something which must have missed his careful eyes—something which Dwalin told him about long ago but he refused it to be true until now.

The wave of emotions disappeared in an outflow, leaving you empty and surprisingly light. You were still in Thorin’s arms, cared and protected from the whole world but not from the world within you. Slowly, you straightened your back and attempted to hide your face in the hands, pretending that you were wiping the tears off but he took your hands in his and without words asked you to look at him. Only then, he touched your cheek with his thumb, collecting the tears on his skin and feeling how heated you were from the outburst of sudden feelings.

“I suppose I was mistaken,” he started in a half-whisper, his gaze wandering from your eyes to the nose and lips and back, remembering your features. “I have not noticed the most precious present ever given to me, although it was right there in my hands for this whole time.”

His palms were rough from the hard work and battles but you loved how they felt against yours when he held them.

“You have already bestowed me with the only thing nobody else ever could, you have given me something I could only dream of and it is worth more than this whole palace, than all the gold, than any title. You loved me when I was nobody, a mere shadow of my true self and only now I realize that I have been waiting for you for my whole life, for one hundred ninety six long years. That it was you, my One, who I have been looking for.”

His kiss was gentle but filled with yearning, the unspoken longing for the missing piece of his heart. It did not taste as sweet as you hoped for, on the contrary, it was salty with your tears, stolen in the middle of the night in the devastated kitchen—and it was perfect.

“I told you already,” you whispered, smiling against his lips. “For me you were never anything less than a king.”

#lyn's writing event #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin #thorin x reader #the hobbit

110 notes · View notes

miminorenai · 4 years

Photo

Chapter 16

A pleasant breeze passes through the mansion’s garden.

Sitting on the bench at the gazebo, MC gently opens ‘No Longer Human’ as she begins to read, but......

Before she can make any progress, a sigh immediately comes out from her mouth.

(......I can’t read it, after all.)

The story and the past Dazai talked about were inevitably overlapped, so MC could only think of him.

(To Dazai-san, living is a punishment......he also wishes for it.)

(I wish his revived purpose is something that can be compensated for, and yet......)

MC doesn’t know the way to end Dazai’s desired atonement.

Dazai lies beyond the deep darkness.

Even MC reaches out her hands to touch Dazai’s heart, she feels like being told that she’s within of such a distance which she couldn’t touch easily.

(I wonder if this means I’m being rejected......)

MC’s chest is in pricking pain, and she gently lays her eyelashes down.

Her love for Dazai, her sad feeling about Dazai’s past, and Dazai’s rejection......

The feelings that come all at once, mix together like a whirlpool in her mind, and she doesn’t know what to do.

When MC lets out a small sigh for the second time, suddenly she realizes approaching footsteps.

Comte “Mimi, could I have a little while of your time......?”

MC “Comte?”

Comte leads MC to the door.

Comte “Please take a look.”

MC “Yes ——······ Eh?”

MC “Right there’s a corridor......!”

What MC saw behind the door is the exact scenery she had when she came to this world.

(There was a strange space spread out on the night I was going back in the first month......)

Comte “I don’t know why, but we can get through the pathway across space and time again.”

Le Comte turns to MC.

Comte “......What would you do, Mimi?”

Comte “I don’t know when something like this will happen again.”

Comte “I guess now you could return to your original world.”

(Original world, modern Japan......)

Comte “Do you want to go home, Mimi?”

As MC put the tender question in her chest for a moment, she stares gently at the door.

The choice that she would have chosen before is now right in front of her.

(......Until a while ago, I missed the original world.)

(But now......)

What came to MC’s mind was not the nostalgic scenery of Japan, but the path of blooming hydrangea that she walked with Dazai.

(Crying at Dazai-san’s words who’s considerate of me, and having silly conversation......)

(Having fun, laughing together......)

Dazai said MC will ‘forget him sooner or later’. But......

(I can’t forget the time we spent together on that day......)

(Even if I go back to the original world with Dazai-san in my heart, I will surely regret it.)

Deciding on an answer, MC grasps her palm tightly and faces Comte.

MC “......I can’t go back yet. If I return now, I feel like I regret it.”

Comte “Is the regret......about Dazai?”

MC “......Yes.”

Has insight of the whole thing — MC’s lost for words for a moment when Comte mentions Dazai’s name, but she’s staring firmly at Comte again.

MC “Comte. Until I feel I’ve make a *clear distinction properly......can I stay in the mansion?”

(*けじめをつける - to draw the line (between two situations), to take clear responsibility for (mistakes, etc.)

(......If I say I'm not worried, I'll be lying. But —)

MC “I want to be here.”

(Still, by Dazai-san’s side......)

This feeling won’t change.

When MC answers straight ahead......the golden eyes that stares back at her, immediately narrows.

Comte “Alright.”

Come to an understanding (?) — Comte closes the door.

Comte “Of course, if you wish for it, I won’t stop you.”

Comte “Honestly speaking, I’m glad you’re staying in this mansion. Dazai looks like he’s having fun with you.”

MC “Looks like having fun......?”

Opens her eyes wide, Comte’s gentle smile deepens.

Comte “It looked like it to me.”

Comte “Dazai is good at hiding his feelings.”

Comte “But even if you hide it, there will be emotions transmitted from the air, eyes and facial expressions.”

(Even if it’s hidden, it could be transmitted......)

Comte “How does Dazai look in Mimi’s eyes?”

MC “To me......”

(But Dazai-san said his act towards me might be a clown......)

When MC turns her eyes down, ‘No Longer Human’ she held comes into view.

Suddenly a passage grazes her mind in passing.

‘——······ This was how I happened to invent my clowning. It was the last quest for love I was to direct at human beings.’

(Quest for love —)

(......That’s it. No matter what *appearance the clown kept up, he definitely doesn’t even have a fragment of heart in his smile.)

(*取り繕った - to keep up (appearances), to smooth over (an error, etc.); to gloss over; to varnish over; to palliate; to temporize; to temporise, to mend; to repair; to patch up

Although afraid of people, he still picks up the subtleties of a person’s heart and worries about them......

(That’s how Dazai-san’s trying to interact with people —)

MC “To me......I see him as a gentle and kindhearted person.”

(Dazai-san I have seen is that sort of person.)

Comte “......Really.”

Comte “I hope you’ll try to face each other until you feel satisfied. In your own feeling, as well as Dazai’s.”

MC “Thank you, Comte. Thank you again for everything you have done for me.”

(It doesn’t matter where this choice will end up. Besides······——)

MC “There was another reason why I couldn’t go back yet.”

Comte “Yup?”

MC “I want to read the story of hydrangea princess made by Dazai-san......!”

Comte “Hydrangea......? It seems like there’s a story that only two of you can understand.”

MC returns Comte’s gentle smile with a gentle smile of her own.

(I don’t think he is disqualified as human being regardless of Dazai-san’s past......)

(I want to believe Dazai-san who I have seen.)

Even if MC believes on him, it may not provide any comfort.

(But......all I can do right now is conveying my true feeling.)

— To Dazai-san, who continues to face people clumsily and hides the piece of his kindness.

In the dark blue sky, the night when the stars twinkle —

Charles “......”

Charles loiters at the church’s corridor and looks up at the night sky through the window.

Lost in thought as he illuminated by moonlight, he doesn’t even show response to the approaching footsteps.

Faust “What are you doing there, being so absent-minded? Shall I give you an energetic injection?”

Charles “......What’s that? So suspicious. A new experiment?”

Faust “You look *distracted by the way. It’s been very quiet here these days.”

(*心ここにあらず - there in body, but not in spirit, in one ear and out the other

Faust “Doesn’t it turn out well? Your plan to get near to Mimi and ‘get along well’ with those guys in the mansion.”

Charles stares at Faust next to him and looks up back at the night sky.

Charles “I went out on a date.”

Faust “And?”

Charles “Mimi is a girl who believes in people very straightforwardly. I thought it was nice.”

Charles “I want to be loved by Mimi......”

Charles face dyed with a look of spellbound, but his expression soon turns lonely.

Charles “But Mimi likes Dazai.”

Faust “Dazai? If I’m not mistaken — one person of the mansion and a Japanese novelist?”

Faust also remembers the information Shakespeare had gathered, to finally hit on one vampire.

Charles “Yeah. ......Hey, Doc.”

Charles slowly turns his eyes on Faust.

The moonlight reflected enchantingly in his eyes like a swaying water’s surface —

Charles “If Dazai follows us ... will Mimi also come to the castle?”

#ikemen vampire #ikevam #ikevam dazai #osamu dazai #ikevam spoilers

72 notes · View notes

the-fox-knows · 4 years

Text

‘I’ll Tell You A Story’

I’ll Tell You A Story (5)

“It was 2019; June to be precise when I traveled to the United Kingdom — or as you would know it, this island of divided kingdoms.” She paused, her gaze cautiously reading his features as his own gaze slipped away from hers. His eyes were narrowed and calculating, a single line marring his brow as he stared at the cave wall, seeing beyond their cramped shelter. Molly knew what he was seeing, for she was seeing it too. That Northumbrian wood; the confusion, the fear, and the ultimate determination that ruled them both that day. He had wanted her, but she had wanted her freedom. Her will had ruled.

“These lands: Wessex, Northumbria, Mercia, they do not endure as separate entities. They will combine into a single kingdom – England. That’s what it will be called,” she told him, thinking to influence his belief by offering tantalizing facts of the future she felt he would be unable to resist. She read him well, for his glazed eyes blinked into focus ere swiveling to the corner until they rested on her. A cautious grin quirked his lips, though she read little humor in his expression. She understood it was the façade he adopted when he wished to keep his true thoughts to himself; the flash of a grin only to be supplanted by a frown that conveyed the genuine depth of his interest.

“You claim to be from the future?” he asked quietly, his grin immediately dipping out of sight. The fire stood out like a live thing reflected in his stare. His eyes fixed on her while his posture appeared still, as if he wouldn’t take his next breath until he had riddled the puzzle that she was.

“Yes,” she nodded, holding his gaze.

“How?” he put to her. His expression was at once laced with a coating of cynicism, though, once settled into his question Molly recognized a gleam in his eye that gave her courage enough to believe in that questing wisdom she was relying on.

Recognizing this moment for what it was, she swallowed, gulping past her nerves as her fingers inched their way to her elbows where she held herself tightly. Only a beat of hesitation marked the moment when Molly Hatch decided to bridge the chasm that had yawned beneath her feet for so many years; to extend her hand and let somebody in. It somehow didn’t bother her that it was the Viking she was reaching for. During the past twenty-four hours he had lost his moniker and gained the identity of his person. He was Ragnar Lothbrok, a man she had a precarious history with, but the one who presently sat across from her willing to listen.

“I was on the shore,” she began, her voice thick, “in Scotland. You don’t that country because it hasn’t been formed yet, but it’s the land where you first found me.”

His head tilted as his narrowed eyes smoothed into a more pensive expression. He took his first breath.

“The rain had abated somewhat, and I don’t remember being concerned over lightning,” she continued. “My friends were waiting for me up in our rooms. There were three of them: Cathy, Ellie, and Gracie,” she said, taking care to say their names slowly, as if to savor the memory of what had once been a daily curl of her tongue. “We were visiting from our home - from America.”

She paused again, furrowing her brow as she tried to remember dates. “Do you know a Lief Erikson? Or perhaps know of him?” she wondered. She briefly remembered learning that that Viking had been one of the first, or maybe the only Northman to make it to North America before Christopher Colombus in 1492.

“I know many Lief’s,” he obliged, though looking uncertain of the question. “Why do you ask?”

“It is only that Lief Erikson will be a well-known explorer. He discovers North America. It’s the land that will eventually be my home,” she elaborated when she detected a hitch to his brow. “Do you know him?” she repeated.

“No, I cannot say that I do,” he answered. The ghost of his grin reappeared, hidden somewhat by his beard. And if Molly knew him better, knew all the quirks of his features and the glance of his expressions she would understand that the intensity of his stare was not mere focus, that the slight cant of his head no mere intrigue — but a growing triumph.

“It may be that he is after your time,” she shrugged a little disappointedly. She’d hoped that she’d unearthed a link that could be used to her advantage, unaware of the already shifting dynamic occurring between them in her favor. Molly believed that hers would be an uphill battle, trying to convince him of something she herself wouldn’t have believed in prior to experiencing it. In spite of her immersion with the culture of the time, she could not abandon the skepticism that belonged to her own culture, nor help apply it to what others would think of her story.

“This noorth umairika, you say it is the land you hail from? Where is it?” Ragnar wondered, drawing his good leg up and resting his elbow on it. He was leaning a little closer.

“Far from here,” she said, drawing her own knees up, though in a more protective stance as she hugged them to her chest. “It lies across the sea.”

“Which sea?”

“The Atlantic.”

Ragnar’s eyes narrowed again. “There is land beyond the Atlantic?”

Molly nodded, adding, “quite a lot of it. You Europeans think you’re the center of the world until the 1500’s. Or sometime around there. I was never good in history class,” she went on to explain, no doubt nonsensically to him.

“What other lands are there besides your home?” he continued with his inquiries, causing Molly to grimace slightly. She had wanted to sweeten the pot initially with these snippets of facts, but steadily she could feel her impatience mounting as the momentum she had gained for her own history was waning.

“There are many; too many to name presently, though I will tell you that there are three Americas. There is the North, Central, and South Americas and each is made up of countries . . . er, that is, a form of kingdom.”

“When does this Leif Erikson discover these lands?” he asked, already forgetting her ignorance on the dates.

“I told you, I don’t know. It must be after this time though as I’m sure you would’ve heard about him. And besides, he only landed on North America. He likely wasn’t aware of the expansiveness of the land.”

“What is the distance? How long will it take to reach your land?”

Molly blinked. “I don’t know! Months and months I’d assume.”

Ragnar’s brow furrowed. “How can you not know when you say you journeyed from that land?” His glance turned suspicious. Yet Molly could only indulge in a rueful smile as she envisioned a plane flying over his head as explanation.

“Travel does not remain the way you know it to be, Ragnar. Between the thousand years that mark your time to mine many things evolve into creations beyond imagining. I do not think you would understand even if I told you how I traveled to this island, for nothing of its kind exists today, save perhaps the winged beasts.”

Ragnar jerked his head back, his mouth wavering between that uncertain smirk and that curious frown as his eyes flicked to the mouth of the cave and back.

“You can fly?” he posed to her, clearly not believing. And Molly was glad to be able to shake her head.

“No, I cannot fly. But men have made machines that can.” And before he could ask another question, she ploughed on. “Whatever you wish to know, I will tell you - to the best of my knowledge,” she said, her voice deliberately low so that he would be inclined to listen and not speak. “I will tell you about America and all the countries that will be new to you. I will tell you of the plane, train, and automobile; how people can travel across the world in a day; how we can speak to those far, far away and hear their voices in our ear. I will tell you about Neil Armstrong and his famous footprint on the moon. I will tell you all this and more – but, first . . . first I need to tell you a story. My story.”

And she did.

Of that day she told him everything. It was either say it all, or maintain her silence – she could not imagine an in-between. As an outpouring, long bottled and static with energy waiting to be released, Molly found that the words she had mentally tripped over, prior to her decision of telling Ragnar, poured fluidly from her mouth and into his sponge-like mind – absorbing everything with ardor.

Occasionally, when her eyes would flick to his, she would watch him, noting his stillness that marked his absolute focus. He did not interrupt her again, not even to inquire over words she knew he couldn’t understand – words she couldn’t translate, though she did her best to explain. He was her audience, and as any good auditor, he knew what was required of him. When she paused to recollect a moment, or had to turn her face away to hide unbidden emotions, she was not hurried to continue.

In lieu of that courtesy, she indulged in speaking of events leading up to the trip, of bidding her parents a teary farewell at the airport; of her and her friends accidentally insulting one of the flight attendants by referring to them as English when they had, in fact, been Scottish; of landing in Heathrow and waiting over an hour for Gracie’s duffle bag. She spoke of a thousand and one things she had forgotten, lost somewhere in the hazy limbo of her interrupted life, but which now sprang forth as if resurrected.

While she spoke the night wearied, falling into shade and quiet. Hour followed hour, yet her soft tones did not dim in the presence of the watchful night. The only other companion to her voice was the snapping flames beneath the long-forgotten tea that bubbled in its neglect. It was only when the brew spilled passed the sides of the cauldron, hissing immediately at the contact with the flames, that attention was returned to it. Molly jerked out of her compact position, rising to her feet as she grabbed a fistful of her skirts to lift the cauldron from its perch, hissing herself at the heat. Quickly, she set it near the fire, releasing her grip and rubbing her hands together.

“I’m afraid it’s a bit burnt,” she told him, looking up from inspecting the brew. She swished it only to see the herbs shriveled and black.

“It is of no matter,” he said, unconcerned. “I would hear the rest of your story before soothing any stomach aches.”

From where she stood, Molly looked down at him, aware that a small smile tugged at her lips. A fanciful vision of a monk dressed as a nursemaid coming to serve out a stretched out Ragnar, undone by a serious tummy ache, distracted her momentarily as she remembered that the monk’s brew was for easing digestion. Her smile grew wider and threatened to morph into a chuckle.

Her heart was lighter. The burden of carrying her secret for so long no longer weighed on her even though she had yet to conclude her narrative. Yet, already she felt the ease of old manners returning to her as she remembered her old self. Intangible as it was, there was a certain amount of happiness that existed in simply being able to talk about her old life to another human being.

So as she resumed her seat, a tad closer to Ragnar than before, there was no pause or hesitation when she picked up the threads of her tale and continued.

“We were making a tour of the United Kingdom and Ireland, as I said, but I was always most excited to see Scotland. I’d dreamt of the Highlands and the heather, of the whiskey and kilts, of all the romantic associations with the place; my father even noted that I had an unhealthy interest in the pipes and drums.” She did stop then, only for a moment as she found what peace she could in the phantoms she’d summoned. She sighed. “I’m sure it’s best that I never got to see it in the end; it might not have lived up to my expectations.” Tentatively , she offered her companion — the one of flesh and blood, and the only one who could hear her — a glimpse of a smile that told a completely different story to the one that had just preceded it, and which forgot in that moment that he wouldn’t understand her silver-lining humor, as paltry as it was.

His eyes may be keen, either fixed as they were on her face or hovering just around her; brilliant in their intensity and strength yet, at that moment, lacking the spark of any recognition for anything she had just said.

Her face drooped suddenly, exposed as it was to the rawness of the many strong emotions required this night.

The relief that had belonged to the minute before was gone, usurped by the realization of reality. No matter the chances of ever getting close to anyone – and so far this Viking was the nearest to a heart-to-heart she’d had in six years – the nuances of her time would forever remain the property of its time; locked away behind the secrets of its knowledge that would always remain a barrier between her and others. The comfort of remembering home was hers; just not the comfort of home.

In a whirl of contained emotion, never flickering past the internal storm of her mind, Molly at once wanted to throw herself at Ragnar, cling to his chest and just be held as she sobbed and felt sorry for herself; yet in that same brand of impulsiveness she wanted to run – to run in a pointless direction, but one that took her far from the cave, far from him, and far from everything that resembled anything that had been her familiar for the past half-decade.

Swallowing, she steadied herself. Her thumbs were busy picking at each other’s nails, scoring her skin in a pattern of crescents.

She told him of the beach.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she told him of that landmark whose grey skies had blackened the water and appeared as the shores of superstition, serving as a portal that had opened for her unwilling passage.

The years spent serving Lady, then Lord Cyneric had been kind in one regard: never had she known her mind as well as she presently did. Despite her duties and chores, they claimed nothing of her time as the convenience of modern technology had. Days regularly burst at the seams with work, thoughts, and sometimes, even play. Boredom was no longer a constant in her vocabulary; indeed, she regularly forgot the word with how little she thought of it. What she did think of, however, and what had occupied her thoughts during her more menial tasks was the day in which she had stood on that shore. The tide had been low, and even then — ignorant as she had been — she had mused over thoughts of in-between places; crossroads, dusk, dawn, and of course that strip of sand, appearing only at its designated hours when the sea was low, so that that in-between area was not quite of the land, nor yet of the sea.

And that, she believed, had been her portal.

All this she told him; explaining her reasoning that found grounding in the very nature of the mystic land.

“There are stories – legends and myths, though, I don’t know their names in this speech – that tell of unwary travelers who find mischief done to them; the wanderer who does not heed the natural warnings of nature and find themselves in, what would be called, a fix. These stories are not so ancient as they once were to me, their narrative has more meaning as I now know that there is power in their messages,” she said, drawing her legs to her chest. She rested her hands atop her knees, picking at the fabric. “My sole regret is that I couldn’t have known that their significance endured even while my culture’s credence of them waned. I would not have stood on that shore otherwise.”

“Do people of your time not tell stories then?” Ragnar asked, speaking for the first time in many hours. He looked dubious, as if he was ready to argue her statements by using what he learned about her journal against her. Molly recognized it also as an admission. Despite his first hint of skepticism ere she began, and despite the natural aversion of Man’s to being fooled by seemingly impossible phenomenons, Molly had opened herself to him in a way that exposed her heart, showing him something precious and protected by unraveling her fabricated life.

Also – he had listened.

“For we have many that do much to warn the little ones away from danger,” he continued. “Maybe you did not listen as a child,” he said, pointing a finger at her nose in a playful, tsking manner. She resisted the urge to reach over and swat his hand back to his lap.

“Your people then have precautionary tales of traveling through time?” she said instead, partially rhetorical as she didn’t believe that the Norse did; though, also a little curious in case of the possibility.

Ragnar let his hand drop, adopting a rueful smile as he eyed her from under his brows. His quirked mouth turned thoughtful, however, and he gazed at her straight-on. She saw him only by the faint, ruddy glow of the now dwindled fire; more ember and ash then flame.

“You truly are from another time?” he asked quietly, almost marveling. His eyes were the only point of light on his face; two pricks of focus that somehow carried more expression than a torrent of voiced wonder.

“I am,” she answered simply. She wondered if he saw the same in her; two points of light staring back at him. The lights were disturbed when he blinked, turning his head away, looking forward as he had at the beginning. She could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind, the formulating questions, and the now deepened curiosity that she must undeniably hold.

“Well,” he said with a grunt, adjusting his position so that he sat straighter against the wall. He returned his gaze to hers. “I suppose I must concede to your claim – you have traveled farther than me.”

“Yes,” she chuckled, “my adventurous desire of walking in the rain in a foreign country has inadvertently seen me outpace the ambitions of any Northman seeking new land.”

Molly only just caught his smile as he leaned forward, taking up one of the sticks to jab at the fire. A ripple of warmth spread suddenly, tempering the chill air of the night and reminding her that she was hugging herself tightly in defense against the cold.

“Have you ever tried to return?” Ragnar asked, keeping his eyes on his work.

“Once,” she replied after a pause. “A week after arriving in that town you and your men had sacked,” she interrupted herself in order to deliver a long-in-the-making glare. The Viking at least had sense enough to remain quiet. “I found my way back to that beach. I stayed out there until I couldn’t bear the hunger any longer. I don’t remember how many days, but nothing happened. The road that had vanished didn’t reappear, and when I returned to the village I found it immediately. It hadn’t worked.” Molly often wondered if it would if she could reach it on the anniversary date of her arrival. But as of yet, she’d never been able to make it.

“It sounds temperamental,” he remarked, uselessly twiddling the stick between his palms, working a hole through the fire.

“Extremely temperamental!” she heartily agreed. “At least with you – well, you are very consistent; I always know what to expect from you.”

“Do you think it is so? That you will always know what to expect from me,” he stopped his fiddling to stare up at her, a queer look in his eye. Molly visibly swallowed as she held herself tighter. She felt the mood turn in an instant; dangerous and intimidating.

“You said you wouldn’t force me,” she reminded him, doing her best to keep her voice steady. The knife he had given her was still somewhere near her.

“Aye, I did,” he nodded, resuming his work, and the tension lifted somewhat, “and if that is where your mind has gone it has done so on its own for I have made no mention of lying with you. I would not speak against such a proposition, but I have not suggested it,” he said, flicking his eyes up to hers once more. She felt her heart stutter.

“Then what was all that about with your, ‘do you think you’ll always know what to expect from me?’” she questioned, altering her voice to imitate his low timber.

Ragnar tossed the stick aside and rubbed his palms together, brushing away the soot and ash. His movements were leisurely, almost deliberately so, which only annoyed Molly further when she was already feeling embarrassed by his presumption that her mind had been in the gutters.

“Well?” she pressed.

Ragnar shrugged, incorporating his hands as well as his face in the movement. “Is it not the truth? Who can claim that they know another so completely that they will always know what the other will do? As, uh, sweet as our meetings have been,” he smiled at her scowl, “they have been brief. Do you really think you know me as well as you think you do?”

She opened her mouth to give a remark about first impressions or something of that nature, when she hesitated. Her own first impressions were swiftly being supplanted by more amenable notions of her . . . not friend . . . companion. Her posture loosened slightly and, guilelessly, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear unaware of the way it drew his eye.

“I feel I must know you enough to trust you with the truth,” she admitted. “You’re the first person to know . . . any of this,” she said, initially searching for a word that could encompass her facts of life. “I don’t understand it, but you’re the first person that I felt I could share it with; no one else would’ve have understood, but you, somehow, seem to.” She quirked her brows, appreciatively curios.

Through the gloom and dull, red glow a gleam of benign teeth glinted as he smiled at her. “I always knew you were something more than you appeared,” he said, sounding vindicated. “I knew there was a reason for my safe-guarding your book – for you to be present in my mind, even when time continued and the possibility of ever finding you diminished; you never left me.”

Molly looked away, running her hands up her arms to hug her shoulders. She did not care to admit that she had experienced the same magnetizing thoughts towards him, though far less complimentary. Though, she supposed it was natural to have looked back on him; their first encounter was one of the most frightening moments of her life.

Cautiously, she turned back to him and was immediately confronted with the urge to yawn as she saw him indulging in his own. He did not miss her joining him.

“The hour is late,” he relented, sounding almost bitter by the fact. “You should get some sleep,” he advised her. Night had been with them for many hours, yet they seemed only now to be aware of the time.

“What about you? You have not slept since waking this morning.”

“I may shut my eyes, but don’t concern yourself. I am used to this more than you. Besides, you will need the rest for tomorrow; I have a number of questions I would ask you.”

“And I will do my best to answer them, but at present, you are the one with an injury and I am not. I’ll watch for now. I do not mind,” she added when she saw him preparing to counter. She reasoned that the likelihood of either of them finding much sleep was slim, but the few hours remaining to the night promised quiet introspection which she yearned for ere the next round of revelations began.

Molly stood, intent on switching places with Ragnar, and showing no signs of hesitance in taking his hands to help him up as she had originally. Again he stumbled, but only slightly, regaining his balance in the next second. She released her grip on him, though when he moved to step past her, she automatically brought a hand up to stop him, just grazing his chest before she dropped it again.

“I – uh, I just want to thank you,” with an effort, she managed to bring her eyes up to his, meeting them and reading in them a softness she had not thought him capable of achieving. She swallowed, suddenly very aware that her last vestiges of fear were leaving her as a new, even more frightening, emotion took its place. He was not touching her, as he promised he would not, but his gaze may as well have been a caress for the warmth she felt under its gaze. She cleared her throat. “You listened to me when I know no one else would have. You can’t know what that means to me,” she confessed. “You returned to me a part of myself I’d forgotten about and I must thank you for that.”

In response, Ragnar leaned down, bringing his face level with hers, their noses inches apart. Molly thought for a moment that he would break his word, yet she found herself too curious to back away.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” he posed to her instead.

Molly broke out into a wide grin, her teeth now the ones to gleam as she shook her head in amusement.

“Yes Ragnar Lothbrok, I suppose this means I must forgive you now – so long as you don’t try it again,” she added.

“Mmm,” he playfully groused, “that is a cruel thing to hold me to when you have made yourself even more valuable to me. You had better not smile too much,” he warned, “for I am want to lose all reason and do what I please should I see your smiling face near a boat.”

“You would have to tie me to the masthead for we both know I can swim,” she teased back.

“Don’t give me ideas. Where are you going?” he suddenly called when she abruptly turned to leave their cave.

“I thought I would search for the fairies and see if they know how I could return home.” At his arch brow she chuckled and told him truthfully that she had to relieve herself. When she returned, he was still standing, waiting. Without a word he limped past her and was swallowed by the night, likely to take care of a similar errand.

When he returned, she was already sitting, holding her legs close so that he could get by with as little difficulty as possible. From the darkened corners of the rear of the cave Molly heard his grunts, scuffles, and ultimate sighs as he lowered himself to the ground.

“Are you alright?” she felt compelled to ask.

“Fine,” he said, unconcerned.

A moment passed.

“Do you have songs from your time?” Ragnar’s voice came out from the gloom, contemplative, yet accommodating of a certain mischievous quality.

“I’m not going to sing one,” she replied immediately, not even bothering to look at him. She could, however, see his head perk up out of the corner of her eye.

“I did not ask you to,” a smile in his tone.

“You didn’t have to; I knew what you were leading to.”

“But you do have songs?” he urged, not giving up altogether.

“Of course we have songs,” she smiled at the ridiculousness. “A great many songs that would likely make you wish you were deaf. Music has evolved since the folk tune,” she told him wryly.

“You are not fond of music then?”

“On the contrary, I love music; in fact I used to love watching classic musicals with my mother. My father hated them!” she smiled, remembering. “He would walk in the room, hear Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire for a second, and make an about face. I think the only musical we ever managed to get him to sit down to was My Fair Lady. He knew Rex Harrison was in it and thought it would be a ‘decent’ movie as he termed it. He didn’t even get to ‘Wouldn’t it be Loverly’.”

Lost in her own memories once again, and not to mention the shadows that now enveloped Ragnar, Molly missed his puzzled expression. “You excel at saying much while revealing little.”

Molly laughed softly, understanding his plight. “My apologies, but it is difficult to translate something that hasn’t been invented yet.”

“I imagine it would be,” he considered, then added, “I envy you your knowledge; to know what will come after once all this is gone; once we here have all played our parts and are done.”

A brief silence stretched between them. In the distance, an owl screeched.

“Don’t envy me, Ragnar,” Molly quietly said at last. “You have the comfort of your time, even if you don’t appreciate it, while I often am adrift with only the cold comfort of memory to sooth me. My fate is not something to yearn for.”

Another, shorter, silence ensued, concluded this time by Ragnar.

“I will do my best to heed your warning Molly Hatch,” he said, a curious note to his voice. An unspoken sentiment hung in the air, trailing from Ragnar’s words, and without meaning to Molly waited for its release. It came as sigh of the wind, soft and coaxing. “But it would be easier if you were to stay with me,” he whispered.

Molly looked over her shoulder, seeking his gaze, but not even those pinpricks could be seen now in the gloom. Looking forward, Molly rubbed her arms.

“Sleep Ragnar, I will watch.”

#vikings #vikingfic #fanfiction #ragnar/OC #timetravel #adventure #romance #veil of time #ragnar lothbrok #ITYAS #fey #fey aspects

9 notes · View notes

fraink5-writes · 3 years

Text

From Darkness Into the Lantern Light - Chapter 13

The final chapter!! But hopefully, it’s not the end of Childe and Zhongli’s journey...

@leio13 is the best for editing this (and for everything else she does)

Summary: Once upon a time, there was a cold-hearted queen. Although the Tsaritsa, as she was called, possessed her own divinity, she coveted the powers of the other Archons. Aiming to steal the Geo Archon’s gnosis, she sent her strongest warriors to Liyue Harbor. But just when Rex Lapis was almost defeated, he escaped to another vessel, that of a powerless baby, and was swept away to a hidden tower for his protection.

Many years after the great fight, the young and ambitious Harbinger, Childe, arrives in Liyue to grant the Tsaritsa’s desire, but, on his search for the Geo Archon’s gnosis, he ends up tangled in a mysterious man’s dreams to see Liyue Harbor’s Lantern Rite.

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

“Zhongli!” A familiar voice beckoned the archon from unconsciousness. Zhongli? Yes, that was the name he was quite fond of—especially in gentle, whimsical tones. “Zhongli, let down your hair!”

As Zhongli’s vision came to, the first thing he noticed was the trail of his hair leading out the window, by which his “mother” was standing, next to the discarded flowers. Although his strength had not fully returned, his physical senses slowly returned. A burning chill coiled around his wrists, legs and throat; heavy chains bound him to the wall.

Then there was a tug on his hair followed by the sound of climbing steps. Ajax. Zhongli’s heart, which had been lifeless before, danced about in irrepressible excitement. Ajax jumped through the window, landing shakily. Discolored skin peaked out beneath his clothes. Zhongli’s eyes shot open.

“Zhongli, I’m sor—”

The blonde woman hovered behind him, the golden accents of a spear glinting in her grip.

“AJAX!!”

As Ajax drew a single alarmed breath, the spear swiftly pierced through his abdomen. Its gold tip was stained incarnadine as it burst from the blossoming rose of blood on his stomach. More blood sputtered from his contorted lips.

“‘Ajax?’” The woman scoffed, “Like the great hero? Ha! Don’t make me laugh.” She pulled the spear from Ajax’s abdomen, and he crumpled onto the bed of forsaken flowers. “A bloodthirsty murderer like you could never be like that. You’re Tartaglia, no. 11 of the Harbingers. Although at this point, you’re no more than a traitor.”

Ajax slumped further under a great shadow.

“That’s not true,” Zhongli spat.

“Oh?” The female Harbinger put down the spear and turned her attention to Zhongli. “You still feel like fighting? I was hoping you’d be more reasonable when you woke up... Oh well...” She sighed then lifted his chin, meeting his glare with menacing eyes. “It doesn’t seem like you understand the situation. You are coming with me to Snezhnaya.”

“No.” Zhongli shook his head from her grasp. “I refuse.”

“Let’s be logical here. There is nothing for you here. Liyue doesn’t need Rex Lapis anymore. And even your precious hero, Ajax—” The Fatui woman threw an affected pitious glance towards Ajax, who was still—”doesn’t have much time left. But you can still find a purpose at Zapolyarny Palace with the Tsaritsa.”

Zhongli wanted to deny her, but he couldn’t. His days as Liyue’s archon were long over, and his short frolic with Ajax had run its course. He could never be satisfied with the ending, but just as he, over the course of 6,000 years, had watched time strip him of the people close to him, he was powerless to resist it this time again.

“No... Zhongli…” A weak voice rasped by the window.

There’s still time. Zhongli glared up at the Fatui woman. “I will make a contract with you.”

“Oh?” The woman grinned. “What are your terms?”

“If you let me heal Ajax and swear that neither you nor any of your affiliates will bring harm to him again, I will surrender the gnosis which resides in my hair to the Tsaritsa.”

Despite her initial frown, the woman agreed to the contract and undid Zhongli’s shackles.

Zhongli rushed on stumbling legs to Ajax’s side. “Ajax, it’ll be all right now.”

“No, Zhongli…”

“Please.” Zhongli rapidly coiled up his hair. “Let me concentrate.”

“Wait.” Ajax grabbed Zhongli’s hand as he tried to cover the wound with his hair.

“There isn’t time.” Zhongli shook free from Ajax’s grip. “Please.”

“Signora is right.” Ajax reached up with his left hand and faintly stroked Zhongli’s cheek. “Liyue doesn’t need Rex Lapis anymore. But, Zhongli…” His embrace firmed as his right arm, dagger in hand, wrapped around Zhongli’s neck and sliced his ponytail right off. “You deserve to be free.”

“Ajax?” Zhongli watched powerlessly as his hair fell in dark coils on the ground. “Why?” He shook his head. As long as Ajax was breathing, Zhongli couldn’t give up so easily. He lifted Ajax’s head gingerly onto his lap. “No, hang on, I’ll find another way—there has to be something—”

“Zhongli.” Ajax squeezed Zhongli’s frantic hands. “It’s over.”

“No, that can’t be. Not yet.”

“Childe has wreaked enough havoc; this end is long overdue.” Ajax’s fingers fell limp in Zhongli’s hands.

“But what about Ajax?”

“Ajax, huh?” A reminiscent curl floated to Ajax’s lips.

Zhongli tenderly caressed Ajax’s face from the corners of his smile to the tousles of his bangs until the warmth disappeared beneath his fingers. He delicately laid his body on the bed of flowers and closed his unbearably lightless eyes.

Picking up the tainted spear, Zhongli rose silently to his feet.

In the corner, sweat was dripping down La Signora’s face. “That’s quite a shame, but he did it to himself. I did not break the contract.”

“The contract is void.”

“Then, surely, Rex Lapis, we can think up another one with more feasible terms…?” Signora shrank further into the corner.

Zhongli advanced with plodding steps.

“Wait, Zhongli—”

Zhongli drove the spear’s rufescent tip through her chest, and her body thudded on the floor.

With his rage-driven strength gone, Zhongli staggered back to where Ajax lay. He squeezed his brittle fingers and brushed through his hair the way he had done before, but this time, Ajax would not wake. There were no more dreams behind his smiling mask.

Despite his great strength, Morax was unable to protect a single, small and fragile human. Another person had passed away in his arms. Over 6,000 years, time had claimed the lives of humans, adepti and gods alike, leaving Morax in timeless solitude. Although the clock struck too soon, Ajax was no exception; even if his body remained, it too would be reclaimed by time, leaving only a brief haze of memories.

Zhongli’s chest and throat constricted with a caustic ache. His shoulders shuddered as swelling tears inflamed his cheeks. Then he collapsed, burying his face into Ajax’s still chest. The steady trickle of tears soaked into his jacket, at which Zhongli clutched feebly. He couldn’t let go, clinging to the promise of heroic adventures and quests for new dreams, of whispered contracts and gentle embraces, of playful grins and scintillating blue irises. But they had all been snatched away along with the future.

Zhongli felt a small thump under his cheek. Then another. Then two more. One by one, the thumps created a steady rhythm. Then, Ajax’s chest swelled, causing Zhongli to jump up. “Ajax?” He gaped at the weak movements of Ajax’s chest as a warm color bloomed across his face. A violent diaphragmatic spasm was accompanied by coughing.

Zhongli propped Ajax’s body up against the wall then he glanced down; besides the bloodstained hole in his clothes, all evidence of the wound had vanished. As Morax, he wondered if some of his gnosis remained dormant in his chest, but as Zhongli, he was grateful for whatever miracle had worked in his favor.

Zhongli cupped Ajax’s soft cheek. Ajax’s eyelids cracked open, revealing his oceanesque eyes. “...Zhong..li?”

Zhongli nodded.

“...Can I call you that?”

“Yes. Please.”

“You know…” Ajax combed his fingers through Zhongli’s disheveled haircut. “Your hair must be way more convenient like this.”

Zhongli couldn’t help but laugh. Ajax was right; Zhongli felt lighter, free from a huge burden. “Do you remember the other night, during the Lantern Rite?”

“Mmm… How could I forget?”

“We never finalized our contract.” Zhongli slid his fingers until Ajax’s chin.

Ajax flashed a crooked grin. “Remind me again; what are the terms?”

“From now on, stay by my side.”

“If it’s just that, I don’t need a contract.” Ajax laughed as he reached out with his other hand, his fingers circling lightly behind Zhongli’s ear. “I, Ajax, promise I will never leave you again.”

“And as long as you live, I, Zhongli, will remain by your side.” Raising Ajax’s chin and cupping both his cheeks, Zhongli planted a thoughtful kiss on Ajax’s lips. Its taste was a mixture of bittersweet blood and tears and warm vitality. As their lips interlocked, Ajax’s combing fingers massaged Zhongli’s brain, easing away all thoughts. Even though the future had made a beautiful return, Zhongli paid it no regard, wishing for nothing but the present.

“Hey, Zhongli,” Ajax’s whispers titillated Zhongli’s lips. “You never told me—what is your new dream?”

There was little point in answering that question anymore—at least not aloud. Zhongli’s lips curled as they pressed a deeper kiss on Ajax’s mouth.

***

Even when Ajax and Zhongli returned to Liyue Harbor (this time, taking the fast route by boat), they could not settle down. Zhongli was a man without an identity, and Ajax, a wanted criminal. Upon immediate arrival, they were whisked from the Alcor by some Millelith soldiers.

“The Tianquan would like to see you,” one of the soldiers announced.

Zhongli stepped in front, shielding Ajax with his body. “I believe there is a misunderstanding.”

“Zhongli.” Ajax sighed and stepped out from behind. “I will take responsibility for what I’ve done.” When Ajax thought of his actions that led to his arrest warrant in the first place, he felt such great shame that he couldn’t even look at Zhongli. I’ll play along, so just don’t mention the specific offenses—not in front of him.

The Millelith reviewed his papers with a chuckle. “I think there might be. The one she’d like to see is the man named Zhongli, not the Fatui agent.”

Ajax and Zhongli exchanged several confused glances before Ajax spoke up again. “What for?”

“Only the Tianquan knows that. It’s strictly confidential.”

“I’m coming too,” declared Ajax, tightly squeezing Zhongli’s hand.

“Be my guest. She didn’t say anything about additional guests.” The soldier shrugged. “But I don’t know how well a Fatui criminal will fare in the Jade Chamber.”

The main room of the Jade Chamber was an impressively spacious office flooded with white light from the high windows. To one side, an infamous board stood, smothered in papers, and behind the scroll-stacked desk, tall vases and jade leaf screens gave the space an additional flare of opulence. Upon arrival, Ajax and Zhongli were met by a woman with white hair falling below the knees and a gold-adorned qipao—undeniably the Tianquan—and, surprisingly, Captain Beidou.

“Hey, long time no see!” The Captain, with a familiar grin, strolled out from behind the desk, followed by the Tianquan.

“Welcome to my Jade Chamber. I am Ningguang, Tianquan of the Qixing.” Ningguang approached Zhongli with a courteous bow. Her brief glance at Ajax, however, was chilling. Zhongli returned the bow as Ajax retreated tactically into the corner. “Beidou has told me all about you, ...Zhongli.”

“What did she tell you?” Zhongli’s tone lacked its prior timidity about his identity.

“About your real identity.”

“I had my suspicions,” Beidou interrupted. “And some beat-up bankers filled in the rest.”

Zhongli shot Ajax a glance, and although he had his suspicions, Ajax just shrugged.

“Welcome back to Liyue Harbor, my Lord.” Lowering her head, Ningguang dropped to her knees, with Beidou following suit. Silent reverence stunned the room, singling out Zhongli, the figure of authority, and Ajax, who squirmed uncomfortably. Should he have kneeled too?

“Do not lower your head, Tianquan.” Zhongli helped Ningguang to her feet. “Liyue belongs in the hands of the Qixing now. You must lead them with pride.”

“I do not understand…”

“Morax is dead. The city of Liyue now looks to you for wisdom and guidance.”

“Yes, my—” Ningguang shook her head, wiping away the tear on her cheek. “No, I will see to it, as the Tianquan of the Qixing, that Liyue’s 3,700 year history of prosperity continues into the future.”

“A fine response. I can trust Liyue in your hands.” Zhongli wore a proud smile. “Ah—wait, I have one final request.”

“Yes? What do you wish?”

Zhongli grabbed Ajax’s hand and pulled him closer. “Exonerate him of his recent crimes.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. If that’s what you wish, I will see it done, but—”

“I know what he has done��” Zhongli wrapped his arm around Ajax’s waist—” But he is also the one that saved me.” His words lit a flame under Ajax’s cheeks, who tried to wriggle out of Ningguang’s gaze.

“Is that so?” Ningguang giggled. “Very well.”

After clearing up the issue of Ajax’s punishment, Zhongli and Ningguang engaged in a long discussion of history, economics and politics. Ajax didn’t bother to keep up; he was content to watch the subtle fluctuations in Zhongli’s smile as he imparted his wisdom. Such peace, however, only brought drowsiness upon him, and he excused himself to the Jade Chamber’s deck for fresh air.

Ajax peered at the expanse of Liyue’s scenery below him. It was truly nothing like Snezhnaya; although mountainous, it was rife with colors. In the days he had trekked across its diverse scenes, many vivid emotions had blossomed on his monotonous heart.

A warm arm draped across Ajax’s back to his waist. “Ningguang has assured that she will discuss the issue of your punishment with the rest of the Qixing,” Zhongli stated. “With that almost settled, what do you plan to do now?”

“It’s not over yet.” Ajax gazed at the distant snowy landscape.

Zhongli sighed. “Yes, we will need to settle issues with the Tsaritsa.”

The Tsaritsa… Ajax had tried to preoccupy himself with thoughts of Zhongli and their future, but thoughts of the Cryo Archon weighed heavily on his shoulders. Not only had Ajax gone against her will, but his heart had betrayed her. He, who had sworn his absolute loyalty to her, could no longer serve her as he once did.

“Ajax. I will go with you to Snezhnaya, and I will talk to the Tsaritsa. I have my own business with her, anyway.”

“No, I must settle this on my own.”

“You’re right.” Zhongli’s eyes were the stern ambers that had held humanity accountable for centuries. “This is the punishment and atonement you must bear for your transgressions. However”—his features melted into a reassuring smile—”If you must live with this guilt for the rest of your life, I will help you shoulder it.”

“Is that really the Wrath of Rock?” Ajax cracked a small grin. “Man, the years have really softened you.”

“No, the age of the Geo Archon and the Wrath of Rock has passed. Additionally, as Zhongli, it would be dishonest to scorn your actions which have benefitted me.”

Perhaps Ajax was wrong. Zhongli’s leniency had not weakened him at all; instead, it had given strength to Ajax’s crumbling courage. He squeezed Zhongli closer. “Well, it won’t be so bad. I am looking forward to seeing my family again.”

“As am I. I would love to meet them.”

“Of course, I’ll introduce you to my family, and then—and then what? What would you like to do, Zhongli?”

“Hmm… now that I’m no longer the Geo Archon… Well, I suppose I’ll do what I’ve always done, this time living fully as a mortal.”

“Hm?”

“Do you know of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor? I think I would like to work there.”

“A funeral parlor? Why?”

“Well, it feels as though I’ve already died once.” Zhongli curled at the short tips of his hair.

Ajax gently stopped Zhongli’s insecure hand. “Do you miss your long hair?”

“Even before I accidentally transferred my gnosis, I used to keep my hair long. It’s bizarre at this length.”

“It’s not weird.” Ajax kissed Zhongli’s lips, brushing his fingers lightly through his silky, dark hair. “I think it suits you, Zhongli.”

#Genshin Impact #Chili #Zhongli #Childe #La Signora #Beidou #Ningguang

1 note · View note

glorifiedsnickersbar · 4 years

Text

Farthest North

Chapter 12 - She’s Fine

Word count: 1356

Alaska decided that a stroll would be nice... what she didn't expect was going for a stroll with two very unprepared Countries.

"It's waist deep!" Screamed America as he fell off Alaska's porch.

"Dude, you need to get out more," Canada chuckled, helping the fallen man back up on the porch. He peered back in through the open door, watching as Alaska placed her bouquet of roses in a clear, snow-like vase. America was a complete gentleman and brought her blue roses with 8 gold ones in its center.

"You two go on ahead," she called, "I'll catch up."

They nodded before Canada made sure his elder brother had all of his snow gear on, soon trudging through the waist deep snow. It wouldn't be hard for the State to catch up with their trail and slow pace.

"The flowers were a nice touch," Canada smiled warmly.

"Anything to keep me on her good side," he grinned.

"For the last time, America, she doesn't hate you. Far from it."

A soft plodding of snow interrupted their conversation as they saw Alaska walk past them... gliding atop the snow. She wasn't even sinking down, not enough to cover her heavy mukluks anyway.

"Hold up," America squinted as he took his sunglasses off, making Alaska turn around.

"What?"

"I know you're tall," Canada started, equally as curious, "but you're not... that tall..."

The blue and gold woman tilted her head as she stared at the two, confused. She then looked down, and laughed, bringing confused looks to her step uncle and step father's faces. Alaska then lifted up a foot, revealing strapped snowshoes, made of willow and strips of hide.

"Snowshoes."

This was a distant memory by now. When the snow was still high, and the birds hadn't travelled back from their winter vacation yet. Now the snow was wet, the human children were making snowmen, though they looked more like mud-men. Everyone was greeting Spring with excited faces. It came early, that meant warm weather, sprinklers and swimsuits. No more heavy coats, no more clunky snow boots and best of all, no more ice on the roads. Everyone was being seen more often as their breath was seen less in the open air, smiles always willing to greet their neighbor, for most anyway. Such wasn't the case for North Korea and other such Countries. The recent events weren't forgotten, of course.

Everyone was so excited, not only did Spring bring warm weather, but it would possibly bring a State to Country-hood. They couldn't wait for the next meeting... but U.N. kept forgetting. A constant flow of letters, a reminder on his calendar, even an alarm on his phone... he always seemed to be easily distracted. Even U.N. himself was confused. He wasn't this forgetful, everyone agreed. It was abnormal for him, and he hated it... Alaska deserved to be a Country.

"Has anyone seen her?" Canada questioned the group, "I've been looking everywhere."

Japan shook her head with a frown.

"The last I saw she was in a hurry to get home, so asked China if he could send her back."

"When was that?" the worried Country questioned.

"Dhree days ago," Russia finally took his coat off, then his Ushanka, wiping sweat from his brow, "I vas getting groceries."

"Only because Yakutia finally started complaining," Mongolia huffed, earning a sober growl from Russia, which was even scarier than if he was drunk.

"Stay avway from my kids," he warned, and the Country scuttled away.

Sighing, Canada decided to ask America. He's been doting on her for awhile now, so perhaps he knows where she's been. It was a short walk through the wormhole to find the powerful Country playing with his States in the backyard. Arizona was still in a heavy coat as she sat under a heat lamp, giggling through her shivers, only to yell at Utah as he threw a snowball her way. Canada had to duck as Wyoming pounced on him from the newly set up trampoline in the backyard, sending the State flying into a pile of roof-shed snow.

"You okay?" he chuckled, picking up the snow covered boy.

"Never better!" his buffalo scrunched up on his face as snow melted down his back.

"Four!"

Canada was struck by a snowball to his head.

"New Jersey," America scolded, "What did I say about keeping the snowballs from the waist down?"

Canada chuckled as he wiped the remaining snow from his red and white face.

"But tha' horts worse..."

The boys around him agreed, and America winced.

"Alright the chest down." He submitted, and they all cheered, resuming their game, "What's up? Besides that snowball," the patriot inquired with an embarrassed chuckle.

"I've been looking for Alaska," Canada explained his quest, only to see that this mission was fruitless by the deep frown that covered his brother's face, "You forgot again, didn't you."

America stomped the snow beneath him in his anger at himself.

"I'm a terrible father..."

"You're not the one who lets his kids drink vodka," Canada huffed, "I'll go with my only lead then."

"I'll come wi-"

"Papa! Come build a snowman with me!"

America turned to see New Mexico waving him down, and sighed.

"You stay here," Canada chuckled, "I think your hoard needs your attention."

"Oh, ha. Ha." he adjusted his sunglasses, "You'll tell me if she's alright?"

"Of course," Canada assured.

"Cool. Stay safe Cana-dad."

�� "Sure thing A-mom-ica."

"Ha-... wait what?"

But Canada was already jumping through his self made wormhole, laughing before landing in far from waist deep snow. It confused him... was he not in the right place? No, he was sure he thought of Alaska. Looking up, indeed this was her cabin, though it was strangely odd to see without it's snow covered walls. Looking around, the Canadian saw no tracks, aside from a moose, but those were old, and it seemed to be running. Perhaps Alaska scared it off.

Stepping up to the porch, the man noticed one thing: the door was ajar. Opening it up further, he peered in. The roses were wilted in their vase, blue a deathly grey, and golden-yellow a hideous puke-like green. Mold covered the sides of the vase, making it look choked.

"Alaska?" he called, receiving nothing but silence.

The floor creaked beneath his booted feet, and he shivered from how cold the house was. There was no difference between inside and outside temperatures. Panic began to set in as Canada looked to the messy kitchen, seeing bloodied knives dried and still waiting cleaned, plates shattered on the floor, and a trail of crimson droplets leading to the living room, and behind the wardrobe. The behemoth had obviously been moved, a surprising feat in itself with the heavy wood, especially since it had also been moved back. Canada managed to at least move it some as the feet squealed their disliking of being pushed along. When it would budge no more, he tried to peer behind it, only to hear a pin drop. Picking up the red colored object, Canada's eyes widened, soon tearing down the paper hidden behind the wardrobe.

Down came millions of tacks, some red, others white, a few were green. Each having a sticker attached, each sticker with a name. The one he held read "Poland". The paper finished it's fluttering, the map of the world torn after several tacks stayed in their place on the wall. Backing from his horrid discovery, Canada called for Alaska again, hearing a soft whimpering, barely heard over his beating heart, from the hallway. Tack still in hand, the frantic Country barely missed the bear trap as he slammed into the wall, seeing one of two rooms with it's light on. Expecting the worst, he slowly opened the door, peering in with panicked breaths sending puffs of fogged air out before him. Canada froze at what he saw.

"A-Alaska?"

--------------------

Fun fact:

During Russian Empire's rule, Alaska Natives were used as test subjects. One known test was how many people a bullet could go through before stopping. The known maximum was 8 people before the bullet halted.

#countryhumans #countryhumanscanada #countryhumansrussia #countryhumansjapan #countryhumanschina #countryhumansamerica #countryhumansau #statehumans #statehumansalaska #countryhumansmongolia #au #oc #fanfiction #countryhumansfanfiction

4 notes · View notes