#and he did that in strange and violent disturbing ways | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bippot · 13 days

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Summary: How many times does Vigilante need to get injured before Harcourt finally gives in and hires a medic to help out with the squad's injuries? Far too many times, that's how many.

When it's uncovered that a fancy hotel is linked to, not only what's left of the legion of butterflies, but also a string of weird deaths and missing persons reports, the only two for the job are lovesick Adrian and the newbie.

Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Gun Violence, Blood and Injury, Undercover as a Couple, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Summer Vacation, Butterflies, Alien Invasion, Stitches, Weird Biology, Creep in a Bathroom, Aphrodisiacs, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drugging, Peeping, general weirdness, Human Experimentation, Eventual Smut, p in v, Human Farming, Kidnapping, Handcuffs, Vomiting, Fist Fights, Trauma, Autistic Adrian Chase, Roleplay, Caretaking, Angst with a Happy Ending

Peacemaker, Adrian Chase Masterlist - here

Previous chapter: Puppeteering

The criminal's of the Evergreen area had a few months of peace since the heroes who patrolled there were on missions. For 3 or so months, drug deals and kidnappings and assaults and all those horrid affairs were left for the police to deal with, and since the dearly departed Detective Song was one of the only cops with more than 2 brain cells, it was more than likely for delinquents to roam with no repercussions for their dastardly deeds.

Then, the Vigilante returned.

Though, Vigilante had changed. That was clear to anyone who came into contact with the masked hero. Vigilante had always been violent, yet it was usually contrasted by the playful, childish part of his personality. Seeing the mask and not hearing the goofy voice and laugh used to be unthinkable, yet as of late, Vigilante had become more subdued than ever.

Plus, Vigilante was a few inches shorter these days. Did Adrian used to put inserts in his shoes?

And, the suit which used to be fitted to his exact muscly form seemed a bit baggier than it had before. Was he on a juice cleanse?

Jack Ryan's show had been gaining traction in the past few weeks. He'd been rather fortunate when The Creeper came across a very high profile actor doing some less than legal things one night. Wouldn't you know it? All it takes is one threat from that ghastly ghoul, and that actor was on a one-way trip onto Jack's show, 'You Don't Know Jack'.

Surely, the actor thought it was a little strange that a creature of the night was swayed with bribes that would only benefit a game show host? If he was, he said nothing and did his job.

Whatever the case, Jack was on a high. His ratings were rising steadily, his secret identity was still mostly a secret, and he was practically swimming in money. It was a good life.

That was until he got a late night visitor.

If Jack hadn't been chemically enhanced, he never would've heard the quiet steps throughout his kitchen. If he didn't have such keen ears to pick up the slightest noises, then he might've missed them entirely. But he did. So, he paid attention as whoever was in his apartment pulled up a chair and sat facing his bedroom.

"Ooooh, Jack! I know you can hear me," a robotic voice sung. "I travelled all this way to talk to you, and I do mean you, not your boogey green shadow."

"Boogey?!" Jack repeated, the insult hitting its mark. "I am not boogey green. I'm more like chartreuse!"

Whipping his bedroom door open, Jack glared angrily at the intruder. The figure who dared to disturb his privacy and broke into his home sat before him, pistol aimed at his head.

"You're a long way from your stomping ground, Vigilante."

"Well, it's a special day. I thought I'd make the trip."

"What's so special about it?"

"It's my birthday, of course," Vigilante replied, and once their sentence was over, a gloved hand reached for the bottom of the visor to pull it off. "I can't believe you'd forget an old friend's birthday like that."

Jack Ryan blinked. He hadn't expected this. The face beneath the mask was that of... no, it couldn't be. Y/N grinned as she placed the helmet on the table beside her.

"It's so good to see you, Jack, really. It's been forever since we last spoke!" Y/N greeted with sinister enthusiasm, her bright smile blinding Jack to what was going on in her head.

"You're Vigilante?!"

"Not originally. I'm just keeping the mask warm until the real Vigilante returns." She hazarded a look at the mask and pushed all those feelings down for the moment. "But that's the problem, though. I can't seem to find him."

No matter what Y/N tried, what avenue she went down, she couldn't find a single shred of evidence that Adrian was still out there. He was still out there. Despite the chorus of voices telling her that this pursuit was fruitless and that Adrian Chase was dead the moment those doors slammed shut behind him, Y/N couldn't accept that. Adrian was alive. She knew that. She could feel it.

No matter how much time passed since he disappeared without a trace, she could still feel his presence. It was in her very bones. In her soul. In her gut.

"Our dear, dear friend, Dr Yatz - did you get the funeral invite or not? It doesn't matter - he had a lot of sensitive information in his laboratory."

"Yatz is dead?" Jack mumbled, shocked.

"Afraid so, bud. But don't worry, he documented every single test he ever did on you in amazing detail so if you ever run low on that Creeper juice you're so addicted to, just say the word and I'll have some more sent right to you."

She lowered her gun and casually shrugged a shoulder like this was no big deal, but Jack's eyes still widened.

"Judging by the Dr's estimations, you have 3 doses remaining. Now, that doesn't sound like a lot to me."

Jack remained silent, though his heart began racing at double speed. Being The Creeper was thrilling. Every step felt like flying. Everything seemed so natural. The fact that he'd been so successful in taking advantage of this wonderful, intoxicating feeling of escape, of power, of savagery, was almost too good to be true.

Well, that's because it was. He couldn't just turn into The Creeper. He needed a formula that Dr Yatz had been supplying him for years to activate the change. Every other month a batch of 50 vials would appear on Jack's door. In return, The Creeper may have assassinated some of the good doctor's opponents.

It had been months since his last drop off. Vials were running low and Jack was getting ansy.

"Tell you what, as a show of good faith - " She reached into one of the pockets on her utility belt and retrieved a small pot of greenish liquid. "A gift. For you."

With a cheeky smirk that could rival Adrian Chase's on its best days, Y/N pushed the green substance across the table towards Jack . His hands shook as he grabbed the small glass bottle and brought it close to his face, examining it closely. It was the smell that told him everything.

This vial was exactly what he'd been craving since the first time he took it. Without wasting another second, Jack downed the contents of the bottle in a single, greedy gulp. The liquid rushed into his veins, warming them immediately, and soon the burning sensation spread everywhere, starting from his core and working its way up through his throat. It warmed his lungs. It warmed his face. It heated his skin. It warmed his spirit.

There was nothing more delicious. There was nothing more invigorating. There was no other sensation like it.

The Creeper in all of its stupid looking glory transformed before Y/N's very eyes as he felt revitalised, empowered, rejuvenated, renewed. His muscles grew strong, thick, green hair fell across his forehead, and his eyes darkened. The change was complete within seconds.

As cool as she'd been acting, once Y/N was faced with the creature who'd almost killed her all those years ago, her perfect facade cracked. Her smile dropped, her shoulders sagged, and she became incredibly vulnerable and afraid all of a sudden. It was frightening how fast the transformation happened, but she didn't let that stop her from continuing her plan.

Immediately guzzling the drug was unexpected. That was not on the list of outcomes she'd planned for so soon, but hey, improvisation is a skill that every good spy needs. It was time to ‘yes and’.

Her face hardened as her eyes narrowed to slits.

"Hey, uggo, did you know that Yatz left a contingency measure in his work?" She gestured in the general direction of the monster. "If you ever got too big for your red boots, he also developed a biological stopper. He rewrote some of your genetic code, did you know that?"

A grunt came from The Creeper. Whether that was affirmative or not was unknown.

Y/N leaned forward, her eyes locked onto The Creeper's. "So, in the unlikely event that you disobeyed him, he could fire this nerve agent." Another vial was taken from her belt and waved in his face. "And your limbs would lock up, total paralysis, and it would be incredibly easy to kill you."

She paused, waiting, watching. When she saw the effect of her words begin to register with The Creeper, she took a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever he was about to throw back at her.

But all he did was sit on the ground, crossing his legs in front of her and staring at her, completely unmoving.

Like a pet. Like a dog would heel before their owner when they're being chastised or disciplined. A pet with the strength to rip her arm clean off should he have the desire to.

There's one thing that binds all creatures together, natural or man made, and that's self preservation. It's an instinctive primal force to live in the face of danger or, in The Creeper's case, submit to the person who had the one thing that can kill you in the palm of their hand. And thanks to their history, Y/N wouldn't hesitate to get even, to go stab for stab.

Or, now that she had leverage over him, it may be more beneficial to use his journalist connections. Though he'd moved to cheaper entertainment, Jack still schmoozed with prominent journalists who may have information they might not know what to do with.

Y/N had heard rumblings of a fighting pit hidden deep in Markovia and she couldn't be given the go ahead to investigate without a smidgeon of proof that it even existed, let alone had a government agent held captive inside. All she needed was someone to talk to a member of the press and spread the rumour, and it was go time.

"Looks like we're partners again, pal."

Leaving the vial of nerve agent on the table, Y/N rose to her feet and stretched before patting The Creeper on the head. "I have more of that, by the way. Just so you know," she said and walked to the door. "You owe me, and I plan to make the most out of my debt. I don't care if you do it as yourself or whatever this is, find out about the Markovia fighting pit and get back to me."

Then, she pulled the visor on and was out the door.

Even with the extra pair of hands - well, claws - it was slow going. The 11th Street Kids doubted that it was worth spending their time looking for Vigilante, not only because they had very little faith that he was still living, but they had other missions to be getting on with. The documents Y/N had hastily stuck in a garbage bag during their escape had actually been vital.

The Monarch Hotel was not the only one of its kind. There were a total of 5 similar 'hives' across the globe, each established focused on capturing a different class of people. And while they knew Y/N was a little too distracted to be sent to dismantle another one of these operations, she was asked - more like contractually obliged - to consult them in for any information that may not have been covered in the mission report.

"Jesus christ, you look like shit." Emilia stood in the doorway of the Chase home with her hands on her hips as she regarded her sister.

Since she got back, the only place Y/N found even the slightest bit of peace was Adrian's home. It was the only area that seemed to remember him. It was filled with his photos and figurines and clothes that used - no, continues to - belong to him and, in a way, it was the closest she could get to having him back.

Though it was safe to say that Adrian didn't have a conspiracy board complete with blurry CCTV photos and red thread and newspaper clippings up next to his framed family photos. Real Pepe Silvia shit.

"I've been busy," Y/N replied, closing the door with a grunt.

"I can tell. How'd you get those?"

Clearly, Y/N had just tended to a wound on her hip, her arms were covered in bruises, and there was a particularly purple blotch across her cheekbone. Which one of 'those' Emilia was referring to, and if she was honest, Y/N didn't know nor care which.

"Training, y'know?"

"Fighting mobsters twice your size every night is training for you?"

"Yup."

Emilia made a face. Y/N raised an eyebrow at her sister.

"What? You think I can't handle myself?"

A sigh emanated from deep within Emilia's soul as she walked over to the conspiracy board, running her fingers over the paper there.

"I think you're throwing yourself at every shitty lead that crosses your path in search of a ghost." Y/N's eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening as she glared at Emilia. "I've been letting this go on for too long. I thought this would help the grieving process, but it's been 6 months and..." Her sentence trailed off. As much as she wanted to voice her feelings, they got stuck in Emilia's throat.

It was rare to ever see Harcourt get choked up. The room grew uncomfortably quiet as Y/N looked away from Emilia. She could hear the frustration, but most of all, the concern. She knew her sister meant well, but it wasn't helping. Y/N groaned, running a hand through her hair as she tried to find the words to respond.

"There is no way you'll be able to stop me from going down this path. I will find him even if it takes years," she said, her voice low and determined, "And that means I will be throwing myself at every shitty lead that crosses my path until I do."

Like a shark, Y/N's gaze met Emilia's, unflinchingly, and even though Emilia had never thought the pair looked alike in any way, but in that moment, the sisters were the spitting image of each other. Y/N's determination was evident, but Emilia could also see the desperation and exhaustion that lurked beneath it. She sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing further.

"I know you think I'm crazy, but I can't explain it. I just have this... feeling that he's still out there."

Y/N's words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken emotion. Emilia knew how important Adrian had been to her sister - even if she wanted to ignore that at first - and that Vigilante was made of strong stuff so he would have a higher chance of survival than a normal agent.

"You really think he's still alive?"

"I don't know. Maybe. But I can't give up hope until I know for sure." Y/N's voice was quiet, almost a whisper, as she stared off into the distance. "And as long as there's even the smallest chance, I can't stop looking."

Emilia regarded her sister for a long moment before sighing and sitting down next to her.

"I can feel it in my gut."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Y/N repeated.

"Show me all the info you've gathered, squish."

For the next few hours, the Harcourt-L/N siblings poured over every single shred of evidence Y/N had found about Vigilante's whereabouts. They discussed theories, analysed photos, and cross-referenced news reports. Emilia even went as far as to order Economos to hack into some shady databases to get more information on the criminal network at the heart of Markovia.

As the night wore on, they made significant progress, narrowing down the list of possible leads and eliminating dead-ends. Y/N felt a glimmer of hope begin to flicker within her. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't crazy after all.

Then, it came.

A week after their 'study sesh', a video was sent to Y/N's phone with the caption: 'One last shipment, then I'm going cold turkey. Jack x '

The soundless video showed a haggard-looking man in a dimly lit space, his eyes darting around before a bright stage light shone down on him. There, looking beaten and battered, was Adrian motherfucking Chase!

It was him, it was really him. Y/N's heart leapt into her throat as she stared at the grainy footage on her phone screen.

In the video, Adrian stood there as another man was pushed into the space and another light shone down on them. With all this light, the surrounding roaring audience was much easier to see. There had to be 300 or so people sat on platforms around the stage as if the area was an underground colosseum.

Adrian's shoulder slumped for a moment, and he nodded at the other man before punching the guy in the face, a warrior's cry forming on his lips as he landed more and more attacks.

Tears welled in her eyes and Y/N's hands shook as she held her phone, watching the video over and over again. Who knows how many times the video was repeated. She was obsessed with absorbing every single detail as possible, which was difficult with the sobs racking her body, and sent it to the rest of the 11th Street Kids.

Vindicated, Y/N could finally exhale. She'd never thought she'd be this happy and terrified at the same time. He was alive. They had evidence of that. But he was also in a dangerous environment, being forced to fight every day.

"I never thought I'd be so relieved to see that annoying face," Chris barked with a grin, nudging Y/N with his elbow as everyone crowded around John's laptop to watch it together. Y/N tried to smile at Chris' comment, but it was more of a grimace.

"Bud," Leota warned. She shook her head to discourage Peacemaker from trying to joke around with Y/N about this.

The next few days were a blur of frantic planning and discussion. Y/N and the rest of the 11th Street Kids brainstormed multiple scenarios and contingency plans, all determined to rescue Adrian from his captors. They knew it wouldn't be easy, but they also knew they couldn't stand by and do nothing.

Most of the group dipped in and out. Whether they needed to sleep, if Leota wanted to go back to her wife, if John thought he should update Waller on their progress, if Chris had to take Eagly outside for a walk - or fly, I guess - or if Harcourt needed a beer, those members took breaks.

Other than the occasional bathroom break, Y/N stayed awake for a total of 73 and a half hours, and she spent it going over and over whatever plan had just been proposed.

"Ah, look at that, she's going through another microsleep," Emilia teased.

"Shut up," Y/N grumbled as she sat up straighter and forced herself awake.

Emilia's face softened as she took in the sight of Y/N yawning and rubbing her eyes, looking a little bit like she had as a toddler. Y/N sighed and leaned her head against Emilia's shoulder, and all Emilia could do was stroke the back of her sister's head.

"Are you going to let me drive you back to the house so you can sleep?"

"No."

"Okay, I'll just force you, then."

"You sound just like your mother."

Rolling her eyes, Emilia gently pulled Y/N to her feet and into a hug. "That bad, huh?" Y/N groaned and mumbled something incoherent into Emilia's shoulder. "Come on, out the door."

Throughout her stay at Adrian's home, Y/N had relegated herself to the couch. Yet, when she hauled herself inside, she needed a bed to relax into. Y/N let out a tired sigh as she collapsed onto Adrian's bed and she couldn't help but take in the familiar scent of his sheets. It was both comforting and painful at the same time, a tangible reminder of how much she had missed him.

Her hand reached for one of his pillows and pulled it to her chest, inhaling deeply as she tried to soak up whatever faint essence of him might still linger there, and fell asleep, her longing surrounding her like a warm hug.

Eventually, the rescue mission was given the go ahead. Vigilante was a government agent and valuable asset that needed to be rescued. The next few hours were a flurry of activity as the 11th Street Kids made their final preparations for the biggest mission of their lives. They knew that time was of the essence, and they couldn't afford to make any mistakes.

Vigilante was entered as a combatant into the fighting pit, so Y/N was undercover once again. She fought and fought and fought. It took a total of a week of gruelling competition, but she managed to rise through the ranks until she finally saw a familiar face. A face that was covered in bruises and cuts and red patches, and though Y/N knew she looked somewhat similar thanks to her week of fighting, her determination to never see him In such a state ensured that the plan was going to go ahead without a single misstep on her part.

For the first time in over 8 months, Y/N was face to face with the love of her life. She had never been so glad to see anyone in her life as she was to see Adrian. His dark hair was mussed, his eyes intense as they scanned the crowd, and she could tell he was thoroughly defeated.

But, since she was dressed as his alter ego so, as the lights revealed them to each other, Adrian's eyes widened in surprise. He was confused, sure, yet Y/N could see a spark of hope flicker in them.

"FIGHT!"

Once Y/N figured out where the source of the voice came from in the crowd, she realised she was looking at Queen Caroline of Markovia. That bitch! The Queen was placed on a throne and had the most perfect view of the carnage below her. Adrian had seen that woman every day down here and she was a constant reminder of how happy he'd been at The Monarch Hotel, which must've been extra demoralising.

Y/N forced her focus back onto their fight and swung to land a quick punch to Adrian's chest, right on his solar plexus to do the least amount of damage she had to. "Fight back or they'll be suspicious," she instructed just loud enough for him to hear.

Another punch landed, and Adrian stumbled back a step, but as he recovered, he countered with a punch of his own. It wasn't nearly as strong as it could have been, but it was enough to keep up the charade. The fight was a gruelling one, but Y/N and Adrian managed to keep up the act for long enough. They traded blows, trying their best not to hurt each other too much, and then the signal came.

A bee buzzed into the middle of the stage, almost as if it was being controlled by someone. The sexuality of this robot bee was unknown, though.

In an instant, Y/N tackled Adrian to the ground, pressing down on a button in her pocket as soon as they hit the ground in order for the plasma shield that the nerds at ARGUS had loaned them for the week activated. Y/N and Adrian were cocooned in a safe body sized bubble so that the drone strike operated by their fellow 11th Street Kids didn't accidentally hit the pair.

Economos, Adebayo, Peacemaker and Harcourt flew their glorified remote controlled helicopters into the colosseum and shot at the people in the crowd, causing absolute chaos as people ran to safety and pushed others into the line of fire to do so. What the runners didn't know was that there was an entire battalion of police outside ready to handcuff anyone they saw. Despite the queen being in attendance, fight clubs and slavery was still very much illegal.

"Hi champ," Y/N greeted, her voice thick with emotion.

Instead of replying, he tugged her completely onto his chest and locked his arms around her. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, relief and joy mixing with the pain and exhaustion from searching for him for so long, and buried her face into his neck.

"It's okay," she whispered, stroking his hair gently. "I've got you now." She held him tightly, savouring the feel of his strong arms around her. "You're safe, you're safe now."

She could feel the tremors running through him. Y/N held Adrian tightly, pressing her lips to his cheek and jaw to distract him from the crashing and banging of the carnage around them.

Finally, the sounds stopped. As the dust settled and the aftermath of the rescue mission played out around them, Y/N turned off the plasma shield and sat up. The fighting pit was in ruins, the walls and floor bloodstained and dented from the fierce battle. Medical staff hurried in to tend to the captured fighters, while enforcers came in to arrest any of the fighting pit ticket holders that were still alive.

Queen Caroline of Markovia lay motionless on the ground, her body riddled with bullet holes. Y/N gently pulled away from Adrian and helped him to sit up, brushing some of the dirt and blood from his hair, and he did the same for her.

With a watery smile, the two of them looked at each other, their eyes full of love, gratitude, and relief.

"You're really here," Y/N whispered, "I'm sorry it took me so long."

Adrian's gaze softened as he cupped her cheek, brushing away a tear that had escaped her eye. He leaned in and kissed her tenderly, their lips lingering against each other in such a way that told her everything she needed to know. Y/N leaned into the kiss, feeling a flood of emotion wash over her.

The world around them could have been falling apart, but as long as they had each other, nothing else mattered.

When they finally broke apart, she smiled up at him, her eyes shining with tears of joy. "Come on, let's get you checked out and make sure nothing's broken." She offered him a hand, helping him to his feet, and then guided him towards the first medic with a first aid kit she saw.

Turns out that Adrian reacted extremely badly when one of the medic tried to touch him, and if Y/N hadn't been there to stand in between them, that medic would've been murdered in cold blood. It wasn't surprising. He'd been in a fight minus the flight mode for the majority of a year so was it so outlandish that a stranger - and even though they were a helpful stranger, they were still a stranger - activated those instincts?

"Can you just... give us some space? I'm medically trained, I can do it," Y/N assured the medic who hesitated but eventually stepped back and reluctantly handed Y/N the first aid kit.

Y/N gently took Adrian's hand and led him to a relatively quiet corner of the pit, away from the chaos and commotion. She knelt down in front of him, carefully examining his body for any injuries, her hands moving with practised efficiency. As Y/N examined him, she found a few shallow cuts and bruises, but nothing major. She cleaned and bandaged them up, taking care to be gentle and reassuring the entire time.

On their way out of the pit, Adrian stood over the Queen's dead body and just looked at it for a moment. Then, he spat on her cold, dead face. The act seemed to release some tension within Adrian, and he exhaled heavily before hobbling to safety with his hand firmly attached to Y/N's.

Each member of the squad was overjoyed, not only because Adrian was back but also because Y/N wouldn't be so depressing to be around anymore. There was something odd, though. Adrian didn't make a sound. He'd usually be yapping at Peacemaker or calling John playful names, but not a single syllable passed his lips.

And, just like he was with the medic, when Chris tried to give his buddy a bear hug, Adrian hid behind Y/N. Chris nodded, looking a little taken aback but understanding nonetheless. "My bad, man. Sorry about that."

Their journey back to Evergreen was a long one, and it was mostly silent. The flight was filled with snores of various pitches from the squad, except for an occasional grunt from one of them when they shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"Champ, baby, you should get some sleep," Y/N murmured to Adrian as she felt his shoulders tensing next to her, and the way his hands clenched into fists and gripping onto the plane seat. She knew he was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and she could help with that.

Lifting the arm between their seats, Y/N shifted to be in the optimal position to be a pillow for him. "C'mere," she cooed softly. Adrian hesitated for a moment, then leaned into Y/N's warmth and support, his cheek pressing against her collarbone. "Do you want me to play with your hair?"

He did a small, shy nod.

"Close your eyes, my love." Y/N's touch was so tender as her fingers brushed through his hair. As Y/N's fingers began to dance through Adrian's hair, he let out a long, shuddering sigh. The contact and her nearness were a balm to his battered soul, but he couldn't sleep. Not when there were other people in the room, so the rest of the flight passed in a haze of gentle touches and soft murmurs in an effort to keep him calm.

When they finally arrived back at Evergreen, the squad allowed the couple to go back to the Chase residence without having to do a mission report or give statements because Harcourt realised that neither of them were mentally ready for that just yet. Some things would have to wait, and that was okay.

Once they stepped through the familiar doorway of the Chase residence, Adrian paused for a moment to take it all in. He was home. He couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia as he saw his bookshelf with its collection of well-worn comic books, the photos of his parents that hung above the fireplace, the comfortable sofa where he used to spend countless evenings watching movies with his Gut, and the really unfashionable blankets that his grandmother loved wrapping up in on a cold night.

"Do you want some food, lovely?"

Thumbs up.

"Okay, we'll clean you up, eat, and then, how'd you feel about lounging in bed doing absolutely nothing for the next few days?"

Double thumbs up

So, that's what they did, and by the end of the night, he was feeling a little more like himself. It felt... nice. Warm. Safe. He looked like hell, but she still thought he was the most beautiful guy she'd ever seen.

While they lay in bed together, Y/N couldn't help but wonder about the changes in Adrian. It was like he was a different person, more reserved and withdrawn. She knew that what they'd been through wasn't easy for anyone, but she hoped that he would be able to find his way back to the old, cheerful self some time in the future. It may take a while, yet she was more than willing to help him along.

Facing each other, Y/N and Adrian were inches away from each other, their breath mingling in the air between them as he reached to trace a finger across her face. He was a little heavy-handed and clumsy in his movements, but Y/N didn't mind. She smiled, closing her eyes as she leaned into his touch.

Then, his focus shifted lower. Adrian's gaze drifted downward, his fingers tracing the curve of Y/N's neck, moving lower to her collarbone and down her sternum before trailing up to her shoulder. He lingered there for a while, drawing out the same shapes over and over again.

It took a few tries but Y/N realised that he was writing I ♡ U into her skin.

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest as she realised what he was doing. Her heart swelled. It was a simple gesture, and it meant so much, so she felt that it was necessary to repeat it on his shoulder.

An hour turned into two, three, however many, and the pair were wrapped up in the duvet. Their night together passed slowly, as if time itself was taking a break to allow them to savour every moment.

Over the next few weeks, the pair did everything they could to acclimatise Adrian back into 'normal' life. He was completely nonverbal and struggled with being around more than 5 people at once, so the couple were in the process of learning ASL online. To gain back the weight he'd lost in the pit, he was put on a diet that steadily increased his intake until he was firmly scarfing down hotdogs like he used to.

With time, Adrian began to improve. He started with small steps, like going to the nearby park for fresh air, and on one of those walks, they saw an old friend.

Dolores, the old lady that was nice to him when he worked at Fennel Fields, was feeding ducks when they heard her call out, "Oh my, Adrian! It's been so long! How are you doing, dear?" She hobbled over, using a cane to support her weight. Her wrinkled face lit up with a warm smile.

The sight of Dolores brought a grin to Adrian's face as he slowly made his way over to her. It was clear that he was still quite frail, but he seemed determined to make the effort. Y/N explained that he'd had an 'accident' and translated his signs for him, and Dolores's expression immediately turned sombre. She took his hand in hers.

"Oh, dear, I am so sorry to hear that, you poor thing." Dolores gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Well, you just take all the time you need, dear. It's good to see you out and about, and I'm sure that young lady here is taking excellent care of you."

They chatted for a little while longer, with Adrian becoming more outgoing as the conversation went on. It was clear that the old lady was a source of comfort and familiarity for him, and Y/N was glad they'd run into her because once they got home, Adrian began to search for his grandmother's knitting needles. He needed an outlet to pour his feelings into and knitting was perfect for that.

Sure, maybe it wasn't cool. But it was something he used to share with his grandmother, and that was a very grounding thing.

If he couldn't tell Y/N that he loved her out loud, he could show her through what he made. Every week, Y/N was presented with hats or cardigans or gloves or socks or quilts that Adrian had made for her until the majority of her wardrobe, even underwear, was knitted. They were all lovingly crafted, and each one held a piece of him.

Even his friends had the honour of gifts.

"Bro, these socks are literally so soft," Chris cheered, surprising everyone by not being a dickhead. Peacemaker then proceeded to take his shoes and his current socks off in front of everyone, and replace them with the new knitted ones.

"Put your dogs away," Leota complained half heartedly.

For the first time in ages, an audible noise omitted from Adrian's lips. The soft sound of Adrian's laughter filled the air. It was a beautiful, raw thing that made everyone around him smile.

After that, it was far more frequent for Adrian to make a sound. Not always laughter, but a chuckle or a grunt or even the odd curse word. Y/N couldn't help but beam every time she heard it, as if each sound was a small victory.

Yet, Emilia was the reason for his first full sentence. And his second.

As a treat, Y/N had bought a Halloween nurse's outfit online to make him laugh as she did one of his weekly checkups. It was short. It was slutty. And, Adrian burst into giggles upon seeing her, his cheeks flushed red due to pure delight, and reached out to grasp onto her hips.

"I hear you've been making progress, Mr Chase. Is that correct?" She asked, leaning into the character.

You're so sexy, he signed.

"Thank you very much, Mr Chase. Shall we start this examination?”

She did everything she usually did - blood pressure checks, listening to his heat rate with a stethoscope, checking his weight, etc. - but in a cropped, skin tight top with a neckline so low cut her boobs were practically spilling over the fabric and kept up the masquerade of porn professionality. Every other sentence she said was an innuendo in some way and guaranteed that Adrian was thoroughly amused by her performance.

Just before the check up was over, Emilia let herself into the house and came across the scene.

"Jesus, Y/N!" Harcourt screeched, covering her eyes in horror. "Almost your whole ass is out!”

Blushing, Y/N tried to pull the short skirt she was wearing down but it was no use, so she grabbed the nearest knitted blanket and covered herself with that instead. On his side, Adrian hurried to sit on the couch and yanked a pillow in front of his crotch.

"Is this what you two do all day?”

While Y/N quietly mumbled out a rebuttal, Adrian announced, "I wish this was what we did all day," in a voice that was wobbly from lack of use but firm in his belief behind the words. Yet, he did look shocked that he'd been able to speak at all.

Y/N beamed at his words, whereas Emilia, on the other hand, seemed to be struggling to decide whether she should be more horrified or amused by the situation - it made sense that Adrian would want to vocally express his horny thoughts, but did Y/N have to encourage them and kiss him directly after right in front of her?

Watching your baby sister do that, frankly, was gross to Emilia. Harcourt had never been one for lovey dovey shit. However, it was nice to see them happy. After all they'd been through, didn't they deserve a happy ending?

"You two are disgusting."

Eat a dick

"He said 'eat a dick'," Y/N laughed.

It was official: Adrian Chase was finding his voice again, and even if it was only to be as vulgar as he used to be.

"Well, that's... progress, I guess?" Emilia relented with a small smile. "Remember, Chase, I'm still your boss."

'You might be the boss, but I'm still banging your sister.'

Y/N let out a cackle at Adrian's comment. "Champ, if I translate that, she might kill you.”

'Say it.'

Emilia's eyes widened in shock at the translation, her mouth opening and closing several times before she managed to sputter, "Oh, you're lucky Squish is here, or I'll kick your ass."

He groaned out a "Bring it on" as a mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

Thanks to the shock, Emilia had completely forgotten why she came to see the duo in the first place and left before Adrian actually made her like him. She had sympathy for the guy, but ever since he got back, he'd been growing on her, and she just wanted to nip that in the bud.

As Emilia left, Y/N turned to face Adrian, a coy smile playing on her lips as she let the decency blanket drop. "So, Mr Chase... where were we before she interrupted us?" she purred, sliding her hand up his bicep.

With a grin that could only be described as wolfish, his large hands clutched at the back of her thighs to manoeuvre her onto his lap. Adrian looked her up and down, taking in her flushed face and the boobs right in his face.

Lollipop

"Ah."

Before Emilia had interrupted them, Y/N was trying to examine his pupils with a light, but every time her hand came close to his face, he licked it. The deal was if he'd restrain himself until the test was over, he could have a Chumpa Chump, and he won that reward.

"I think you deserve it, champ." She stretched to reach her first aid kit on the nearby coffee table and produced a lollipop from one of the pockets. "For you.”

Vigilante was rarely seen from that point on. Y/N returned to her life as a kindergarten teacher but fully moved to Evergreen to settle down with Adrian, whose online store where he sold his knitted creations was booming. Their life was a lot quieter than before and, yeah, less exciting but they were content. And even though they'd been forever changed by The Monarch Hotel, they were fucked up together.

Whether as themselves or as the horny newlyweds 'The Bardots', the couple found joy in life and each other. They had a home. Not too long in the future, they had silver bands on their ring ringers. And they had a happy ending despite everything life had thrown at them.

Taglist: @sarahskywalker-amidala , @she-wolf09231982 , @afraidofshrimp ,@synthe4u @navs-bhat (Wanna be added to the tag list? Just message me or leave a comment :p)

Thank you for reading my silly little (well, it's actually 125 pages long) story. I hope you enjoyed it. I'm sorry it took me so long to write!

#adrian chase #vigilante #vigilante x reader #adrian chase x female reader #peacemaker #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase x y/n

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imkillerbae · 1 year

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Dancing in the Dark (Part 2) (Valorant Yoru x Fem!Reader x Valorant Sova)

Part 1 Here.

Summary: You're confronted by Yoru about your lies and decides to have his way with you in a broom closet.

Words: 2k

CW: Crying, regret, FLUFF. Happy ending

(A/N: I was supposed to add a smut after this but got lazy so I didnt hence the broom closet AHAHA anyway here's the ending! REQUESTS ARE OPEN. Please send me ideas i am running out of ideas i beg) Listen to 'Dancing in the Dark' originally by Bruce Springsteen covered by LOLO for better experience.

The bottle of whiskey was barely drunk from, and you held the neck of it with a tight grip. You were glaring at the man in front of you, and he returned the look, although less hostile. Yoru tried to tug the bottom of the bottle from your grasp but you did not relent, pulling it towards yourself even more.

“You’re not planning to drink all of this yourself, are you?” You ask in annoyance.

“And what’s that to you?” He muses, raising his brows to taunt your question.

Sova’s birthday party was getting more and more unbearable for him, especially with the mind blowing news he received just moments ago. He needed to go numb, to just let his brain go blank even just for a moment. You weren’t helping the situation, because it was taking all his self-control not to drag you to the nearest broom closet and—

“I know how you get when you’re drunk.” You reply, looking at his shoulders rather than his eyes. He was much taller than you, something he liked to relish in.

You couldn’t help but intrude when you saw him heading for the bar, Sova walking the opposite direction of him. You didn’t see them talk but you could tell he didn’t like being around Sova anyways. And when he’s drunk, he gets a bit violent and destructive. Not the bad kind. He just becomes painfully unaware of how strong he is and just breaks things. During Phoenix’s birthday, they dared him to dance on top of the tables, and he broke them in half.

The tables were made from metal.

“I don’t think that’ll be any of your business.” He reaches for the bottle again, and you switch it between your hands, holding it out of his reach. “It is my business. Sage took extra effort to get this whole party perfect and I’m not gonna let you ruin it with your drunken antics,” you lied, trying to seem uncaring. He furrows his brows at you, his blood simmering under his skin. Ruin it? He would never. He didn’t even think of doing that at all. Not even slightly.

“Oh, sorry if my presence disturbs the party. Wouldn’t want your archer boyfriend to get upset right?” He taunts, trying to confirm what Sova told him before. Her heart is set on no one else but you.

You sigh and shake your head. “He’s not my boyfriend.” You say in defeat. He’s still hung up about it. Rephrase: he’s still hung up about nothing. Sova wasn’t anything to you other than a friend and a teammate. Why couldn’t he see that?

Yoru tries another time to grab the bottle from you and succeeds, your low mood affecting your reflexes. He pops the bottle open and drinks from the spout, not bothering to put it on the glass anymore. “Oh yeah, he’s a brother to you. Although brothers don’t usually confess their love to their sisters, but whatever floats your boat Y/N,” he glares after drinking, his voice full of spite that you almost shudder.

You stood in place, shocked. He knows? How? Did Sova tell him? But you agreed to keep it a secret. Your blood runs cold even with the alcohol in your veins. Yoru knows that he was right to be suspicious. And now he thinks you’ve cheated on him. “I-I…” You start, but he intrudes.

“Strange family dynamic but I’m not judging,” he laughs at his own joke, pushing your arm gently to get you out of your trance. “You lied to me Y/N. You lied to me about him, got me worried sick about you, and you tried to gaslight me into thinking I was wrong,” he smiles an empty smile at you, tossing the whiskey glass over the bar. You don’t hear it shatter, getting caught by the fine sand.

“Why did you have to lie to me?” He asks, shaking his head in disbelief. You clench your fists, looking down guiltily. You thought you could have gotten away with it. But in reality you knew he was bound to find out eventually. You just didn’t think it would be so soon.

“I-I’m so sorry Ryo… I-I thought it would be best you didn’t know! I know you would be mad at me for not seeing it, and angry at Sasha a-and confront him about it,” you start, tears forming and flowing down your cheeks and nose. He tilts his head to the side, listening intently. “I was told that if a fight broke out, one of you w-would be fired from the protocol, a-and I didn’t want to lose you…” You grab your own arm and squeeze, trying to get yourself together.

“Y-you were right, a-and I was wrong and naïve and stupid a-and I broke your trust… I shouldn’t have lied but I was scared what you’d do if you knew you were right about him… I was scared that you’d hate me for being so naïve and not listening to you…” I hate myself for not listening to you, you thought but didn’t say anything of the sort. You didn’t want to turn this into something about you. You hurt Yoru and tried to make it seem like he was the bad guy in all of this, just so you could play peacekeeper.

With that, you were already crying as you stood, and you muffled yourself with your hands. He stood there watching you, wanting to hug you, hold you in his arms, but he couldn’t just do that. You needed to learn your lesson. Seeing you crying was the last thing he wanted tonight.

“Puta no!” You both hear Neon yelp, but it was too late. You didn’t see what happened but somehow Neon short circuited the lights, causing all the lightbulbs to pop above you, surrounding you all in total darkness.

“Merde, has anyone seen my glasses?”

“Everyone, stay calm, the generators will open in any moment.”

“Ow! That was my foot Gekko!”

“I—I’m all the way here! That wasn’t me!”

“Can’t you go up in flames or something Phoenix? We need light!”

“With all the flammables lying around? Do you want to get toast?”

You uncover your face and you couldn’t see anything. You could only hear the sounds of the ocean waves and the ruckus going on in the crowd. You then hear a sigh before you’re dragged by the wrist by someone, Yoru you’re guessing. You stumble after him as he walked quickly, opening a door and ushering you inside. He closes it and you hear a clicking sound.

“They won’t hear us talk here.” He says. You reach out your arms and hit his chest mistakenly. You step back and step on a few things, making sounds. “Will you stop that? They’re going to think there’s someone out there that isn’t us,” he scolds, and you make an angry face at him, or wherever your face was directed to. “I can’t see you!” You complain, reaching for him again until he reaches for your hand and puts it on his cheek. Your heart skips a beat, and you blush. He couldn’t see that though.

“There. Is that better?” He asks, his voice more quiet than usual. You nod, but then remember he can’t see you too. “Y-yeah. Sorry if my hands a-are wet.” You wipe your other hand on your sundress frantically, and he grabs hold of that too and places it on his shoulder. He then grabs your waist, pulling you closer. You start to feel him move side to side, and a picture formed in your head.

You were dancing in the dark.

“I get up in the evening, and I ain’t got nothing to say~” You sang quietly, and he laughs a bit. “I go home in the morning, I go to bed feeling the same way~” You continue, humming.

“I ain’t nothing but tired. Man I’m just tired and bored with myself,” he sings along after a while, and you pull him closer. “Hey there baby, I could use just a little help.”

Can’t start a fire, can’t start a fire without a spark.

This gun’s for hire, even if we’re just dancing in the dark.

“I was dying to dance with you all night,” you admit, whispering it in his ear. He nods, breathing against your neck. “Me too.” He replies quietly. “I missed you so much. So much. I’m so sorry for lying, I’m so sorry for being so naïve and not listening to you. I’m so sorry,” you cry, and he holds you closer, letting you sob on his shoulder.

He was still mad, but hearing how sad and lonely you sound, he knew this was hard on you as it was for him. Miscommunication was a bitch, and you both became a victim to it. Ironic since you had excellent communication systems.

“I understand why you lied to some degree. And you were right, I would’ve murdered him in his sleep. But you know I could’ve gotten away with it,” he chides, and you step on his foot. He feigns hurt but keeps dancing. “You tried to protect me and had the protocol’s best interest in mind. Can’t fault you on that too much. But it still pisses me off that lied. You shouldn’t feel the need to lie to me.

“But that was my fault. You were scared of how I’d act. And yeah, I know I can get carried away most of the time. Just a few minutes ago, I almost broke Sova’s nose,” he chuckles at the thought but continues. “Point is, we both made mistakes.” He finishes with a sigh.

“Please take me back,” you ask, and as soon as you did, the power went on. You adjusted your view, and saw that Yoru was also a bit teary eyed. You smile tenderly and hold his face with your palm, caressing it. “Please take me back. I love you and only you,” you begged. He stops moving both of you and leans into your touch, thinking. He hasn’t seen you this close in a while, and from the bags under your eyes, he could tell how unwell you’ve been without him.

“Promise me you won’t lie to me anymore. Promise me you’ll tell me anything that bothers you, even if you won’t like my initial reaction. And I promise to listen to you more, and to never doubt you again,” he asks, leaning his head on to your hands, melting him like putty. You nod, your smile quivering as you cry. “I promise. I promise,” you were able to blurt out, pouncing on him and hugging him tightly. You both dance again as you hum the lyrics to your favorite song.

They say you gotta stay hungry, hey baby, I’m just about starving tonight

I’m dying for some action, I’m sick of sitting round here tryna write this book

I need a love reaction~

“C’mon now, baby give me just one look,” he pulls away, giving you a smile before he kisses you longingly as you dance the night away. He missed you more than you know. And he was glad that he was your last dance tonight. He wanted to dance with you so bad.

You can't start a fire, sitting 'round crying over a broken heart

This gun's for hire, even if we're just dancing in the dark

You can't start a fire, worrying about your little world falling apart

This gun's for hire

Even if we're just dancing in the dark.

(Tagging: @sv03, thanks for waiting!)

#valorant sova #sova x reader #valorant sova x reader #valorant imagines #valorant #valorant headcanons #valorant sova imagines #valorant sova oneshot #valorant oneshots #valorant oneshot #sova #fanfiction #valorant fanfiction #valorant yoru #yoru x reader #valorant yoru x reader #valorant yoru oneshot #yoru

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wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart · 3 months

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I did something a few days ago, (and decided to share it here too) surprised that my normally murderous muse wanted a more hopeful ending for once.

(I'm sure it's a fluke, but I'm not in control of the muse, it truly has a mind of its own.)

So I committed a piece of ambiguous obikin, with way too many metaphors...

As I wrote this, I realised that this was meant for @prahacat , and I willingly bow to the will of the (muse) Force.

The eternal tide is an endless rhythm that becomes the song of the heart

He was floating, drifting in the emptiness.

It was a strange sensation, he did not feel awake, but at the same time he was certain he was not dreaming. His body felt… he had no adequate words to describe it, he felt it, but at the same time he could not feel it.

A soft tide seemed to pulse around him, a gentle cadence, not quite his own heartbeat. But there was another equally familiar rhythm, almost like a tone or a hum. It was constant, even as it rose and fell. It cradled him, held him in its embrace, both keeping him captive and gently rocking him. He felt safe here, but a faint sense that he was not supposed to be here kept disturbing him, sending small electric shocks through the peace.

He had no idea how long he had been here, time appeared to be absent, and he could not understand where he was.

After a time, impossible to define, memories came back to him, slowly, reluctantly. At first it was only a few glimpses, flashes of color and light, of emotions.

He was not even sure if it was his own.

Blue seemed to be dominating. A blue sky lit by two blazing suns. A blue and green planet, and the endless blue swirls of hyperspace. The glowing, humming blue lights from the blades of two lightsabers. But most dominant were blue eyes. Blue eyes that shone with excitement, that glistened with tears, that held a soft look of fondness, that flashed with anger, that burned with desire, that twinkled with mischief, that stared blankly at a dark sky, that slowly changed as blue was taken over by... no!

A gentle sound seemed to surround him, bringing more memories.

There were glimpses of a smile, cheeky, grateful, challenging, thankful, proud, bashful, loving and teasing.

The feel of silky hair between his fingers, rough cloth, sticky blood, smooth skin and hard metal.

The feeling of being held, of being guided, of anger, of fear, love and hope.

How could he feel all this when he was unable to even sense his own body properly, could not figure out if the constant rhythm he felt was the sound of his heart, or maybe his breathing?

The rhythm became clear, a note, a group of notes, familiar, and he could almost understand them, even though he knew they were in a language he did not understand but knew intimately.

He knew what the song meant. He had asked once, in a late hour of the night, in a deserted place where they had sought sanctuary, where soft darkness and gentle starlight had been all that surrounded them.

And for a moment, it had seemed as if they had been the only ones existing in the void.

There, he had finally found the courage to ask, almost afraid of the answer, what the words he did not yet understood but could recite by heart, meant.

Blue eyes had twinkled in the starlight and soft lips had curled into a smile that contained delight, amusement and coyness. They had been so close, and it had felt so right there in the darkness that had not felt menacing.

The rhythm grew stronger, the rising tide surging through him, surrounding him, and it seemed to drown out the gentle tone that instead drifted in the background.

He tried desperately to hold on to it, to keep hearing it, afraid that if he could no longer hear it, he would never be able to again.

But the current was relentless, closing in on him and pulling him with it, dragging him towards the unknown. Memories flowed around him, through him, a violent torrent of images, sounds and emotions, assaulting his mind.

A different color dominated them now. A bloody frightening red. Red dust stirred up by war and destruction, two red blades buzzing through the air, red energy trapping him helplessly. Red surrounding sickly yellow that had drowned out blue. Endless flashes of red blaster shots as he struggled to repel them with his own glowing and buzzing blade. But worst of all was the red color of molten lava, the heat of it burning his skin, and a cruel red blade aimed at his heart as he stood face to face with evil that had worn a beloved face.

Pain, hate, anguish, fear, anger, hopelessness, loss, suffering, want and greed all tried to take him, claim him, as screams almost drowned out both the roar of the relentless tide and the soft tones of the song.

His body gave a violent twitch, struggling now, straining to regain control, trying to fight against the relentless current that would pull him under and consume him, drown him, transform him until nothing recognizable was left, crush him until only dust remained.

A gentle sound broke through, somehow calming the strong tide that threatened to take him. Words he knew wrapped around him like a shield, like strong arms holding him steady and making sure he did not shatter into a thousand pieces, torn apart by the violent force that now surrounded him.

But it was the same force that held him so gently that threatened to tear him apart.

The words of the song became clear now, and for the first time he could hear the voice that sang them, even though he felt them vibrating through his body and mind rather than actually hearing them.

Words of longing, words of devotion, words of prayer, words of patient waiting, words of an eternal circle, words of hope, words of life... and death. Words of a love that never faded, that even the eternal current could not change, a rock it could not wear down.

He clung to it, held on tight and slowly the current released its hold on him, letting him find a peaceful eddy where it swirled around him, gentler, but still there.

He could feel his body now, still heavy and unwilling to obey his command. He could hear his own heart, its slow steady beat of life. He could sense the air filling his lungs with every breath.

He could hear that voice singing to him, quiet but persistent, always persistent, even if it was hoarse, broken, exhausted, and almost inaudible as if it were almost spent, as if its strength was in danger of running out.

No! It could never happen, he would not allow it.

There was a hand in his, rough from years of struggle, scarred by time and war, yet it still possessed a gentle strength that always seemed to know what he needed.

Those words he had once explained the meaning of and passed on surrounded by darkness and starlight were now given back to him, their energy flowing towards him like a gentle tide, surging through their connection until they filled him with new power, until they overflowed and slowly grew stronger. Consuming, devouring, yet never crushing.

He opened his eyes, finally, and time began again, its current flowing forward, bringing him with it relentlessly, but rightly.

Slowly turning his head, he searched with his eyes for the source of the rhythm that had held him, guided him, that was now a gentle echo in his body, a constant hum, eternal and never ending.

Blue eyes found his, exhausted, hesitant, frightened, hopeful, filled with longing, devotion and love.

And everything fell back into place, finding its right course.

The steady rhythm of two hearts in sync. Always in sync! Eternally connected, two souls who were one, inseparable, dependent, their rhythm the same, their song the everlasting.

"Hello there," they whispered.

#star wars #star wars fan fic #obikin #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #fanfiction #writing #fanfic #ambiguous stories #the muse made me do it #my normally murderous muse #my wrtitng #hopefully endelig

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helplesslypurple77 · 8 months

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Day 6-Atsushi/Fyodor w/ kinks restraints and blinfods(also vampire au)

Notes: rarepare, yes, i know. Also I'm literally obsessed with Fyodor's dead apple outfit. Like did they all go to the mall to try on matching suites?? Where they all like, ‘bro, those jackets are too long.’ or, ‘Fyodor you should wear two fancy coats over your normal clothes,’ or ‘Dazai that looks bad on you try this one.’? I'm literally obsessed you don't understand

It was freezing in the mountains. A bitter cold chill seeped into his bones and froze him from the inside out, even as the tiger did its best to fight the frostbite away. Atsushi pulled his fur lined cloak closer around his body and trudged on through the snowstorm. The wind abused his face raw, and as quickly as the pain hit it receded, healed by the tiger inside of him. For once in his life Atsushi truly thanked the tiger. For with its strength he was this year's trader, a great honor in his village, as well as one of the members strong enough to make the trek up the mountains and across the snow tundra below them to the neighboring town, to trade.

The snowy mountain ranges blocking Atsushi’s small village from the neighboring village were truly a blessing sometimes. Legend had it that the mountains had risen from the ground after the bloody battle that split Yokohama City, the capital of Yokohama island in half, forever separating the warring factions. The Northern village, run primarily by the Mafia Guild, and the Southern Village, Atsushi’s home, run by the Armed Detective Guild. The villages never interacted, the inhabitants far too volatile or just plain violent to have calm relations, except for one day out of the year, when one person from each village would cross the snowy mountains and trade with the other village. There was an unspoken truce these days, ‘you kill our resident and we kill yours’, and of course, as the least volatile of the Armed Detective Guild, Atsushi was saddled with the honor of making his way across the forever snowing mountains.

(Last year's trader, Atsushi’s mentor Dazai almost incited all out war between the two villages, and had subsequently been banned from ever doing it again. Since then the traders have been chosen with greater care, and the entire job holds a strange reverence about it.) Atsushi didn't mind the job, not really. It was interesting to visit the other village, and most of the Mafia Guild were pleasant, if a little strange. The bloody war was almost two decades ago, and only the oldest Guild members could even remember a time when the villages were one. And so, it was a unique opportunity to meet people he wouldn't usually see, and maybe get some delicacies for the long months to come. The problem, this year, was the snow, and the strange things that had been happening in the mountains lately.

It always snowed in the mountains, no matter the season. The snow piled higher and higher until it fell, rolling down the slopes in big balls and melting at the bottom, creating the lakes that littered the island. But it was usually a peaceful kind of snow. No wind ever disturbed the peaceful atmosphere. At least, that was how it had been. Now, fearsome winds battered the snowflakes against Atsushi’s face, rubbing his cheeks red raw. The trees, formerly covered in fluffy white, shrieked with the wind, their bare dead blanches scratching his face and hands. The mountain was as barren of life as ever, but ever so often Atsushi had the strange sensation that someone was watching him.

The other change, and the most noticeable was the large gothic castle that had materialized in the mountains, right at the top. Its large arches and dark marble walls were visible even from the ground. It appeared dead of life in the daytime, but as soon as evening hit, lights poured out from the large windows, and occasionally music could be heard. None of the Guild Members had ever seen anyone leave or enter the place, and yet it didn't worry them at all.

“This is Yokohama island, strange things are commonplace.” Was all Kunikida, the Guilds vice President had told him when he asked about it.

Atsushi was kind of worried though. Castles did not just pop out of the ground for no reason, and as he was the one trekking across the mountains this year, he was a little worried. He hoped to steer clear of the place and make it across the snow without any major problems.

As if god had heard his problems, and then proceeded to laugh in his face, the snow began pelting him faster and faster, the trees bare arms seemed to reach for him, to scratch his arms and pull at his fur lined cloak, pulling it from his shoulders with a yank. Atsushi watched in disappointment as it flew away, the black velvet outside disappearing in the snow storm. He almost felt like crying. That cloak had been a gift from his mentor Dazai when he had first joined the guild, and was one of his most treasured possessions. He was left in only his button down shirt and vest, warm but still thin black pants and snow boots. Without the coat, Atsushi knew he could not make it across the mountain without freezing to death, and so, with a resigned sigh he made his way towards the winking lights of the gothic castle in the distance.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The castle was huge up close, golden light spilled out of the large windows, the black glass spires spearing the sky. It was beautiful, and at the same time cold, not unlike the queen of winter herself. Hesitantly, Atsushi raised his hand and knocked. The sound echoed off the walls and then faded into the snowstorm, whirling away with the wind. The large black marble arched doorway is clearly decorative, and a much smaller door opens slowly with a creak.

The man who steps out is a strange man, about a head taller than Atsushi, and very pale. He's wrapped up in a white outfit, a fuzzy white hat over his dark, purple black hair. He seems to be wearing two coats, a long one on the inside with a golden design on the bottom, and a shorter overcoat, with a fur lining. He looks very cozy, but he still shivers slightly, pale cheeks painted with a slight bit of pink. His dark eyes scan Atsushi questioningly, and Atsushi shivers. The man is so pale he looks almost sickly. His eyes are underlined with bags that give him an alluring, mysterious vibe.

“What can I help you with?” The man's voice is slightly accented, something Atsushi has never heard on the island. The whole man has a foreign air about him, from his fuzzy hat to his smooth accent. It's not weird, in fact Atsushi feels slightly mesmerized, as he replies.

“Um, I was wondering if I could stay the night. I can't make it across the mountain tonight.” Atsushi draws his arms around himself, trying to keep himself warm. The man stares at him for a moment longer. “Where are you coming from, little one?” He says. His accent is so foreign, Atsushi just can't place it.

“Oh, I'm coming from the village down the mountains.” Atsushi says quickly. “I'm heading over to the other village to trade for this year.” The man nods. “I see.” He stands back, opening the door wider and allowing Atsushi to enter. “You are welcome to stay the night.” Atsushi thanks him gratefully as he steps into the warmth of the building, the door closing with a resounding slam behind him.

The inside of the castle is as grand as the outside. The walls are a dark purple, with white and silver accents. White candlelight floods the long hallway and Atsushi can't help staring around in awe as the man leads him down the hallway and into a warm and cozy living room. The ceilings are high, so high that Atsushi can barely make them out, and shadows dance happily in the corners where the light doesn't reach. The whole building has a lonely feel about it, like a beautiful princess stuck in her solitary tower, looking desperately for some company.

The man chuckles, as he slowly sheds a layer as the fireplace roared with white hot flames. “It's beautiful, isn't it?” His thin pale fingers undo the claspes of his first jacket, draping it gracefully over a large armchair. Atsushi nods. “Oh yes, I've never seen such a large castle in my life.” He turns to the man. “Thank you so much for letting me stay Mr…”

“Fyodor, little one.”

“Mr Fyodor. I don't think I would have been able to make it across the mountain tonight. It was really kind of you to let me stay.” Atsushi fidgets with his hands nervously as Fyodor looks at him, blinking his eyes slowly. “Yes, as you can see I have plenty of space.” Fyodor says, smiling a small little smile. “Now Atsushi, would you like something to eat?” Atsushi nods happily, and honestly he's too hungry to even notice that Fydor said his name.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The dining room is huge, the floors carpeted in a silver and purple rug, a large crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, spilling silver candlelight all over the room. The table was long, and one side was set for two, completely covered in different dishes Atsushi had never seen before. It all smelled delicious, and Atsushi’s mouth watered as he stared at the spread of dishes. Fyodor chuckled next to him, his gloved hands leading Atsushi to a seat and pulling it out for him.

“You're hungry, enjoy.” The man took a seat across from him, and Atsushi dug in. The first thing he reached for was a meat skewer, the meat dripping and tender and he tore into it. He let out a little groan of happiness. It’s delicious, the flavors melting into his mouth delightfully. The dishes are things he’s never seen before but he’s so curious to try them all. Fyodor sits across from him, sipping delicately on what looks like wine, not touching the food.

“Are you not hungry?” Atsushi says, teeth sinking into a flaky pastry filled with meat and potatoes. “I'll have my dinner later, little one.” Fyodor chuckles. “Now tell me, why are you venturing out on a night such as this one? It's far too dangerous for a pretty boy like you to be out in the snow.” Atsushi flushes at the compliment, sipping at some red soup that warms his insides, whipping the residue with the silk napkins he was given. “Well, every year someone has to travel across the mountains to trade with the other village.” He takes another few bites, this time of the meat skewers again. “It's usually pretty easy, the weather was especially bad this time.”

“I see, and why are you the one trekking across these dangerous mountains?” Fyodor takes another sip of his dark red wine, swirling delicately in the crystal stem glass. Atsushi leans back, patting his belly with a small groan. “Well, last year they sent another guy. My mentor Dazai.” Fyodor’s small smile falls, his face unreadable.

“Dazai, you say?” he says, his voice blank.

“Yeah, Dazai.” Atsushi frowns. “Do you know him?”

The silence that descends for a moment is excruciating. Atsushi begins twisting his hands again and again, resisting the urge to backpedal and apologize. Finally, Fyodor smiles again. “No, the name just sounded familiar.” He stands, and Atsushi jumps to his feet, in a hurry to please. Fyodor has that small little smile curving his lips again, as he leads Atsushi out of the dining room, and up a large winding staircase.

The castle is huge. Their footsteps echo off the walls, before Fyodor leads him into a carpeted section of the house. Atsushi pasess door after door, corridor after corridor before Fyodor finally stops outside of a small door, with a silver door handle. The knocker is silver two, and made in the shape of a roaring tiger. The tiger almost looks alive, and its brilliant yellow eyes sparkle, almost seeming to follow his every move. Fyodor coughs, dragging Atsushi’s eyes away from the sparkling yellow eyes. He hands him a small pile of folded clothes with a smirk. Atsushi thanks him gratefully, but he simply chuckles and waves it off.

“It is no problem at all. But Atsushi, I need you to promise me something.” Fyodor says, gripping Atsushi’s shoulders and meeting his eyes. Atsushi has to look up at him, and he feels his face heat up for some reason, his heart pounding slightly in his chest. Fyodor continues, voice serious. “You must not come downstairs after nine o’clock. No matter what noises you hear.” It's a strange request, to be sure. But it's Fyodor’s house, and this whole situation is strange. Atsushi ignores his blushing cheeks and nods. “I promise.”

Fyodor simply looks at him for a moment. His dark eyes scan Atsushi’s face and Atsushi tries vainly to keep the blushing in control. The man is close to him, and Atsushi can take in every feature on his face. He’s pale, so so pale, with only a slight amount of pink on those cheeks. Dark circles highlight his dark eyes, effectively giving him a sickly appearance. It's strange how that face makes Atsushi’s body heat up. ‘I want him to come closer.’ Atsushi slaps the stray traitorous thought away.

He feels for a moment that the taller man will lean close, and maybe press those pale lips against Atsushi’s own. But finally, he steps away, and with a wave he turns the corner, leaving Atsushi alone in the carpeted hallway, a pile of clothes clutched in his hands. He shakes himself out of his stupor and twists the door handle, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

The clothes Fyodor gave him are simple, just a thin cotton button down and pants. The fabric is soft however, and strangely warm. Atsushi takes care to fold his clothes and place them on the small table by the fireplace. He should ask Fyodor for a coat tomorrow morning, before he leaves. The room is large, and very luxurious, with a white carpet covering the entire floor. The bed is large as well, and covered with a purple covering that shines strangely in the light. It even has an attached bath that Atsushi used happily. He now sits, warm and comfortable on the side of his bed, just letting the day wash over.

What a strange man the owner of the castle was. Quiet and handsome, and dressed completely in white. He was a nice man too, feeding Atsushi delicious food and letting him stay the night. His instructions were a little odd though. ‘Not to go downstairs, no matter what.’ But whatever, Atsushi had a nice place to sleep and a full tummy, he was very happy indeed.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

He’s almost asleep when he hears it. Piercing the silence of the darkness, the faint strains of a waltz. How strange. But Atsushi remembers the words from earlier, and does his best to tune it out and go to sleep. But for the strangest reason, he can't. The music gets louder, filled with laughter and joy and the tapping of heels and Atsushi can't resist. He steps down the carpeted hallway, following the strains of a waltz. ‘I want to go downstairs.’ he thinks, almost involuntarily. ‘I need to go downstairs.’

The music leads him on, begging him to continue, pleading him to follow, teasing him with delight. It leads him through twisting hallways lined with portraits, through large empty rooms, until finally he stops, in the entrance to a ballroom. Hesitantly, hoping no one sees him, he peaks around the entrance, mesmerized by the lights.

The ballroom is alight with music, full of people, full of laughter. The lights and colors mesmerize him speechless. The whirling skirts of the pretty women and the suites of the men, the ballroom is full of life. The dancers move perfectly, each move graceful, begging his eyes to stay, pulling him in, begging him to join. The music seems to come from all over, and Atsushi can't seem to pinpoint an exact source, but it swells and dips and crescendos and someone is telling him to go, to join the festivities and be happy. To feel the joy that they must be feeling, to join in the celebratory mood of the party. Atsushi stumbles forward, begging for the light, longing for the happiness…

Suddenly, it's all gone. Atsushi feels a slight stinging on his neck, and reaches up involuntarily. His hand comes away bloody. The culprit is a crystal light fixture, pointed sharply and dangerously. Atsushi feels strange. He doesn't quite know why he wanted to join the dancers, it seemed fun, sure, but kind of illogical. It almost felt like someone was telling him to do that, to join the dancers and dance to the music. And then, Atsushi notices something strange. The music, that joyful waltz, has come to a halt.

He looks up, and freezes with fear. The entire ballroom has come to a halt. The dancers are standing still on the dancefloor, and the people scattered across the room have stopped their conversations as well. Every eye in the room is turned on him. Atsushi feels a cold sensation run down the length of his body, because their stares, they aren't stars of disappointment, or even accusation. ‘No, these stars are hungry.’ He thinks, mentally calculating an escape route. One of the men on the ballroom floor steps forward.

“Well, what are you doing here, little human?” He says, advancing slowly on Atsushi. Atsushi has the urge to step back.

“I'm sorry for bothering your party, I'll leave now.” He says, slowly starting to back away. Atsushi feels like he needs to leave. He doesn't know why, but all his instincts are screaming at him to get away. The man vanishes, and suddenly he reappears, grabbing Atsushi’s arm and with supernatural strength, pulling him to an abrupt stop.

“Not so fast, human.” The man grins, revealing white teeth, his canines sharpened to dangerous points. In a heartbeat, Atsushi realizes what these people are. ‘Vampires, they have to be.’ He thinks to himself.

He’s surrounded by dangerous creatures of night and he needs to get away. He tries to shake his arm free, but to no avail. The strength the tiger has granted him is useless against this man, and Atsushi stumbles back again, trying to at least shake him off. He trips, crashing back and abruptly hitting another person. The words flash through his head, embarrassingly. ‘I'm scared. I don't want to die.’

A hand falls over his eyes, and abruptly, the man's hand is yanked from his arm. Atsushi is enveloped in the smell of lilies and apples, and a familiar voice speaks by his ear.

“What are you doing down here, little lost kitten.” Fyodor. Atsushi immediately relaxes into his hold, sinking into the comfort of it. He knows this man at least, will not hurt him. The silver door knobs on the room Atsushi was given, reflect that in startling clarity. Fyodor is speaking over him, in a language Atsushi cannot understand.

“Этот мой, тронь его и я тебя убью.” The language is smooth and strange, but somehow very pretty to Atsushi’s ears. The man says something back, in the same language.

“Не портите вечеринку, поделитесь человеческим мальчиком с другими.” His voice is pleading, but with another word from Fyodor Atsushi hears a crack, and his voice dissolves into a scream. He doesn't really want to know what happened. Fyodor escorts him away, and removes the hand over his eyes as the man's screams fade in the background.

Atsushi feels an anxious mix of fear and the urge to apologize to Fyodor for disobeying his command, and after all the man had done for him. But he remains quiet, until they enter Atsushi’s room and Fyodor closes the door behind him.

“I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me. And i know you told be not to go down and you were so nice to me and fed me yummy food and i just—”

Fyodor holds up a hand, and Atsushi comes to a flustered stop, wringing his hands anxiously.

“It's all right, Vampire music tends to have that effect on people.” Fyodor says, seating himself on the couch across from the fire. Atsushi sits down next to him, still a little nervous. It's strange, but to Atsushi’s eyes, Fyodor doesn't really look surprised. He looks more resigned as he leans back against the fine cloth of the couch. Everything about this man is strange, and Atsushi really shouldn't be surprised that he has ties to the supernatural. ‘I mean, he can't be a vampire…right?’ Atsushi thinks to himself, fiddling with his hands again. ‘Im still bleeding and he has no reaction.’

“Um, Fyodor? Are you a vampire too?” it occurs to Atsushi a second to late that he doesn't know if that's a rude question, but Fyodor answers before he can apologize. “So, you figured it out? Yes, I am.” The surprise must show on his face, because Fyodor chuckles. “Why, are you surprised? Was it not obvious?” Atsushi shakes his head, a little embarrassed. “I just thought…well, because you're not affected by my blood…” Fyodor chuckles again, and in an instant, erases any distance between their bodies.

Fyodor’s breath tickles his neck, and his voice is thick with something hot when he speaks. “Oh, is that what you think?” Atsushi shivers, as hot breath hits his ear.

And in an instant, the man before him has fallen apart. His eyes burn, tracing every contour of Atsushi’s face as he speaks. “Every time you move i smell it. The aroma of your blood, teasing my tastebuds, dancing a dangerous tango with arousal.”

All pretenses of put togetherness are gone now, as Atsushi’s back hits the arm of the couch, Fyodor’s thin body cornering him against the hard edge. Thin fingers tangle in his hair, the long strand framing his face, twisting the silver strands around his fingers. Another hand traces his jawbone, gathering the remaining blood of his neck in a delicate swipe. Fyodor makes sinful eye contact as his tongue darts out, licking the blood of his finger.

Every nerve ending in Atsushi’s body is at war, caught between a rock and a hard place, a small silver tiger, cornered by a creature of myths, a creature draped in darkness and danger. He wants to run, but he also wants to submit, to let his head fall back against the couch, to allow this creature, this man, to take him any way he wished. It was an odd feeling, but not terribly unpleasant.

“Tell me little one.” Fyodor’s mouth curves into a smile, his fangs flashing in the light. “Will you allow me a taste of your blood?” Every part of his brain screems at him that this is a bad idea. He could be seriously injured, or worse, die. But every other part of his body is telling him to give in, to consent and give this man permission to do waht he wished. And Atsushi feels more inclined to go with those feelings. He nods, squeaking out an answer. “Yes, you can do what you want.” It's probably a dangerous response, but Fyodor seems pleased as he pulls two thick black ribbons out of his pocket. “Hold out your hands, little one.”

The ribbon is silk, soft on his skin, and dramatically black against his pale skin. It feels strange to have his hands tied like this, and even though he could easily rip the ribbon apart, he would rather enjoy the feeling. Fyodor comes closer, and leans forward, securing the other ribbon over his eyes. The world goes black, one of his senses taken away. It only serves to heighten the excitement, because now without sight, all his other senses are sharpened. He can hear the rustling of clothes as Fyodor undoes his button down, feel the coldness of his skin stroking Atsushi’s bare chest, the thin trails of cold tickling his waistband, stroking him over the thin fabric of his pants. The man yanks his pants down slightly, just far enough that Atsushi’s dick is set free.

He bucks up involuntarily, the cold pressure of Fyodor’s hand both a relief and a tease for his hard on. The man above him chuckles, his voice gradually coming closer. “Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit.” His voice is right by Atsushi’s ear, and he shivers with anticipation. “In fact, I think you’ll enjoy it.” And then, teeth puncture his skin.

The pain only lasts for a second. It's a meager prick of pain, the pain of skin being broken, and it's swiftly overwhelmed by pleasure. A heat, a blinding heat is running through his veins, tainting his soul with pleasure. Pleasure, running from the bite of his neck, through his body, driving his crazy. He knows he must be letting obscene moans leak through, but he can't even bring himself to care. His dick twitches, shooting ropes of cum all over his stomach as Fyodor gulps hungrily at his neck, little groans of pleasure occasionally leaking through the obscene sounds Atsushi can faintly hear himself making.

It's like nothing he has ever experienced before. He’s still twitching slightly, coming down from his abrupt orgasm when he feels Fyodor draw away from his neck panting. Then cold hands are on his waist, flipping him over effortlessly, pulling his pants all the way off. Atsushi’s hands fall forward, tied wrists hitting the hard arm of the couch, head falling forward onto the soft cushions. He’s on his knees, hands still tied, eyes still covered, dick dripping cum onto the couch cushions, back arched ass up, for the man behind him. The position is embarrassing, even in his post orgasm haze, but the embarrassment doesn't last long, as Atsushi hears a cap open, and then cold, wet fingers are working his hole open.

Atsushi moans again, loud and obscene as his dick twitches, leaking onto the couch. Fyodor chuckles behind him. “I wish you could see yourself right now, all tied up and pretty.” Atsushi’s dick twitches at the praise, even as he heats up with pleasure. Fyodor continues, his accent thickening slightly. “I know you’ll look even prettier screaming around my cock.”

Atsushi feels a pressure against his asshole, and then something big is stretching him open. It hurts just a little, but Atsushi feels himself bucking backwards, begging the man to move faster. And he does. In one fluid stroke Fyodor buries himself deep in Atsushi, hands gripping his waist like an ice cold brand. Atsushi screams a moan as he moves, setting a deep brutal pace. It hurts slightly, Fyodor is big, but only in the best way, and Atsushi lets out more obscene noises as the slaps of skin fill the air.

What an odd day this has been. He would have never guessed he would end the day, bent over a couch and blindfolded by a vampire, a vampire who is now leaning down, breath teasing Atsushi’s neck again, cooing compliments in his ear.

“So pretty.” an especially hard thrust hit a spot inside Atsushi that makes his eyes white behind the blindfold. “So obedient. You like a bit of pain, don't you?” A moaned yes, then a scrap of teeth followed by a hot tongue. Fyodor’s smug chuckle is slightly huskier, a sign of his slipping composure. “Do you want me to bite you again?” Fyodor says, tone full of mocking. “You liked that last time didn't you.”

Atsushi can imagine it, the overwhelming pleasure, the forced orgasm. He wants to feel that all over gain. “God, yes please!” He sounds embarrassingly needy, but he can't bring it in himself to care. Fyodor rams that spot again, and Atsushi’s back arches. “Oh, you want me to bite you again.” Fyodor says, all smug. “Then beg, pretty boy.” Atsushi is too far gone to even care. He would gladly beg for the pleasure again, no matter how humiliating it was. “Please Fyodor, please bite me again!” His voice is breathy and tight, full of pleasure and pleading. Fyodor grunts, cold hands still gripping Atsushi’s waist.

“You're such a dirty boy aren't you.” Atsushi nods frantically, begging, pleading the man above him to sink those sharp fangs into him once more. Fyodor sighs mockingly. “Very well, since you begged so nicely, I'll do as you wish.” Atsushi moans in joy and agreement, back arching as he feels the fabric of Fyodor’s shirt scraping his bare back, and feels the tickling of his shoulder length hair on the nape of Atsushi’s neck. He can't help but moan in anticipation, and Fyodor just seems more pleased as he leans closer, whispering in Atsushi’s ear.

“You're such an obedient pet, maybe I should keep you here for all eternity. My little fucking doll, you’d like that wouldnt you.” Atsushi clenches involuntarily at the thought, his dick dripping more and more precum onto the couch. Fyodor huffs a small laugh. “You naughty boy, and over such a depraved thought.” Atsushi can feel an orgasm building, winding pretty little knots of pleasure tangling in his gut, and at that picture, he almost falls apart. The thought of spending eternity here with this man, getting fucked ruthlessly by his big dick and fed delisous food, sounded honestly like a dream. It was a dirty thought, to leave all his responsibilities behind, but in the heat of the moment, it was all he could think of.

Fyodor’s tongue teased his ear, hot breath tickling the soft skin, as he trailed kisses down his jaw, teeth scraping his neck in anticipation. Atsushi fears he’ll cum early, and as those teeth puncture his neck, he does. It's embarrassing how he cums at the shot of pain that precedes the pleasure, but he does, spraying ropes of cum all over the couch beneath him. And then, the pleasure hits and he cums again, moaning out an obscene garbled mix of Fyodor’s name, as his asshole clenches down on the large protrusion lodge inside of him.

And just when he thinks he cant cum anymore, Fyodor hits that spot inside him for the last time, and Atsushi’s spent dick twitches to life again, leaving more trails of cum all across the poor couch. Fyodor’s teeth are still lodged in his throat, and his dick twitches inside Atsushi as he releases hot ropes of cum inside him. The pleasure is so great he almost blacks out, his dick twitching limply against his thighs.

Hes hazy when he comes down, and when Fyodor unties his hands, pulling the blindfold away from his eyes he blinks sharply, his eyes adjusting to the light. And hes tired, so, so tired. Fyodor seems to sense his mood, because he doesn't say much as he cleans Atsushi off, and pulls a blanket over his spent body. With a snap of his pale fingers, the candles are out and with one last little smile, Fyodor bids him goodnight, and Atsushi drifts off into dreamland.

End Notes: the russian is google translated. Fyodor says: ‘This one is mine, touch him and I will kill you.’ and then the man says: ‘Don't spoil the party, share the human boy with others.’ And then Fyodor breaks his arm. His red flags are big but so is his dick…

Taglist:@mulit05ho3st4n

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #kinktober 2023 #bsd smut #helplesslypurple77kinktober #kinktober #bsd rarepair #i need to stop with these rarepaires #i also need sleep

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thephantomcasebook · 6 months

Text

The Wilderness: A Psychotic Morally Bankrupt Exercise in Petty Feminist Immaturity

I've been preoccupied lately with the alarming trend of female power fantasies in media involving committing acts of crime and overall evil and not only getting away with it but revealing in a strangely moral superiority and smugness in the acts itself.

Shows and Movies such as "Anatomy of a Scandal", "Last Night in Soho", "Gone Girl", and recently "The Wilderness". Three of which started as novels by female writers. All have a very dubious premise of a so called "Wrong Woman" getting revenge on their spouse or boyfriend by dark and extremely immoral ways and are anointed as heroines by the writer for the supposed "Liberation" of the female protagonist by committing otherwise heinous acts that do not fit the crime they're supposedly avenging.

"The Wilderness" is one of the most dangerously psychotic and frankly one of the most immature examples of this trend of the female revenge fantasy. In which Olivia (Played by the amazing Jenna Coleman) murders her husband's mistress and then proceeds to cover up the crime under the guise of helping her unsuspecting husband protect himself, before framing her husband for the crime she committed. Then, in the end, the show frames this all as an empowering and heroic triumph, despite Olivia murdering two otherwise innocent people.

It is uncomfortably unhinged to go through the reasoning of the show that Olivia who killed her husband's mistress and beat the mistress's boyfriend's head in with a stone is less guilty than her husband who was cheating on her since they moved from London to New York. That somehow killing two people is less worse than her husband's serial infidelities with his American female workmates. Most of all is the strange encouragement and affirmation from other female characters like Olivia's mother and even the goddamn female Police Detective investigating her. They all continuously tell Olivia that she's not evil and what she did isn't bad, despite the fact that two innocent people are dead because she killed them.

I find it a disturbing growing trope in female led fiction that if one feels a certain way that any action taken from those emotions are valid and morally justified no matter what is done. That hurt feelings translating to an unhinged violent or transgressive action against someone is affirmed as empowering if said person has indeed emotionally wronged the female protagonist. Thus a cheating husband is far worse than the wife that murders because somehow he is the reason that his wife is killer. It is not only childishly immature logic of a toddler throwing a tantrum but outright ignores any personal responsibility of the female protagonist's own actions.

I'm for darker and more complex female characters, but said female characters should face consequences for their evil actions.

Also, I'd also like to address the racist trope of the "Magical Black Lesbian" that is also showing up a lot lately in white feminist fiction. The frankly immature Sapphic fantasies of women who think that all of their love life problems would be solved by simply being in a relationship with another woman - ignoring the fact that domestic abuse among Lesbian couples is at 64%. But the growing trend of portraying gay black women as some sort of wise and sainted reverent figure borders uncomfortably on the "Old Black Uncle" of mid-19th century antebellum literature in which usually young white female characters are seen as safe and comfortable with non-threatening elderly black men.

Now, in this strange cultist thinking of progressive white women, they've turned the elderly black grandfather into a lesbian black woman who serves two masters of being sainted for her sexuality and skin color while allowing the white liberal woman to show off her virtue by opening herself to the possibility of being in a safe and nurturing lesbian relationship with someone of the "Underclass" thus taking on their supposed racial and marginalized status and giving them a higher sense of virtue in their own eyes.

I find it all disgustingly dehumanizing, taking a skin color and sexual preference and washing down into a moralistic object of shallow progressive cultist belief rather than see them a person with flaws and prejudices like anyone else.

"The WIlderness", despite stellar acting performances by the main cast - especially from Jenna Coleman and Oliver Jackson-Cohan - remains a rather disgusting and degenerate pieces of morally bankrupt trash.

#The WIlderness #Jenna Coleman #oliver jackson cohen #Last Night in Soho #Gone Girl #Anatomy of a Scandal

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librosamarillos · 1 year

Text

passed down like folk songs

chapter 5: happiness

Maegor Targaryen x OC

Also on Ao3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

Parents trying to deal with their awkward teens, Visenya is so done with Maegor's dumb ass, feelings are confusing <3

An evergreen tree is a tree that remains green as long as it lives. No matter the sun, the snow, the wind or any conditions nature threw its way. House Evergreen reflected that very well. Being one of the oldest houses in Westeros, it was quite impressive how they’ve managed to flourish under every ruler they’ve had. Perhaps they were wise enough to stay on the low, to not grab too much attention and to focus on their craft. Wood was essential to anyone who wanted to build homes, castles, furniture, so it was most wise to keep in good relations with them. They were famed for woodcarving as well.

Duncan and Lucas Evergreen made a great team. His older brother was the lord and heir to their house, he oversaw the production of their honey, and made the decisions on which trees to cut down so that it wouldn’t disturb the volume. It was a delicate art, to find the balance, to know when to stop taking. Duncan was in charge of the trade. He handled the business side of things, while traveling to offer the Queen his council.

It was strange, when he thought about it. He wasn’t sure why she chose him to advise her. He was one of the lords trying to convince King Gardener to yield, and one trying to prevent bloodshed in Oldtown by trying to persuade Lord Hightower to accept the Targaryens as their rulers. He didn’t have much of a choice, did he? All it would take to ruin a thousand year old forest is just one tiny spark. He was no blind fool. Queen Visenya had learned of this and invited him to her council.

Over the years they became almost friends it seemed, or at least she tolerated him most out of everyone, he wasn’t sure. Although bound by formality, she still offered him her sincere condolences when he lost his Edith. He wished he could tell her how sorry he was for how Aegon was treating her and their son, but it was not his place. She didn’t deserve this. And neither did poor Maegor.

He remembered the young Prince since he was born. He had remarked that he was the biggest and angriest looking baby he’d ever seen, it was almost funny. It was as if he already knew what to be angry about. He was a solitary boy, not polite, rather harsh, it worried Duncan. There were no other children on Dragonstone for him to make a friend, and he glared at anyone who dared to look at him for too long. He remembered bringing it up with the Queen, urging her to perhaps take some boys his age as squires, so he has peers to grow up with. Visenya thanked him for his worry, with a very cryptic smile.

She did not bring any squires, but she did invite his Rowan. It was incredible how quickly the two became friends, he was truly not expecting it and neither was Visenya. But they seemed to do good for each other, the young Prince now more patient and polite, his daughter getting over her shyness and becoming more confident. Duncan was glad Maegor had someone.

He remembered how angry he felt, when the King was overlooking the training of both his sons, Maegor was only four. He was violently thrown down, his nose broken and bleeding, his father not batting an eye, not stopping to see if his little boy was alright, nor did he call for the maester. He just sighed and left. Like that. Duncan was seething on the boy’s behalf, before running to him, trying to stop the bleeding and taking him to the maester himself. Maegor always looked suspicious of him. Then again, he was suspicious of anyone that wasn’t his mother, Duncan guessed he was protecting himself, as he realised early on he had no one but Visenya to count on.

His daughter seemed to flourish while traveling. He looked at her with such pride, as he questioned her on her lessons and she answered correctly every time. She was just like him as a child, so hungry and eager to learn. To educate her meant he could give her a comfortable life. As his only daughter, all his riches and home would pass to her, and she was more than capable of taking care of everything, he knew it. And even after he’d pass, she’d still have her cousins to look after one another. He was so happy to have a family this close. With him being a second son, there was no pressure for her to wed to advance their house, she did not need to worry. The man she’d take to husband could be one she’d chose for love, seeing as the money she had to her name was more than enough to sustain herself and a family for a few lifetimes. It gave him relief, knowing she could grow up without that pressure.

As sweet as he found his daughter’s friendship with the Prince, they were now getting older. His Rowan was now a young woman, Maegor was now a young man. A young man that towered over everyone and seemed to frighten the realm with rumors of his cold nature. He was always kind and friendly to her, he could not complain, but now something changed. Duncan was no fool, he was a young man once. He started noticing how the two stared at each other, how they seemed to blush when they were standing close. What worried him most was that they were in King’s Landing now, not the secluded and in comparison empty Dragonstone. Rumours could spread, rumours that could ruin a young lady's life, while leaving a young man untouched. He wasn’t sure how to breach the topic without making his daughter uncomfortable.

The final straw was when he noticed a green ribbon in the Prince’s pocket. Specifically the hair ribbon his daughter was convinced she’d misplaced somewhere and couldn’t find it. He knew. It couldn’t be the first time. He knew what he was using it for. He felt affection for Maegor, truly he did, and wished for him to succeed in his life, but he knew he’d never marry his daughter. They were an old and wealthy house, but not as powerful as the rest. A match with the prince was a lucrative prize for any house, and he knew he couldn’t let things continue, for his daughter’s sake. Besides, she was a young lady, it was most inappropriate for them to be alone together anymore. Maegor would never hurt her, that he knew, but it wouldn’t stop rumours. And rumours would only hurt Rowan, not him. It did boil his blood to think what must be going through Maegor’s mind.

He found himself requesting a meeting with Visenya, not just as an advisor, but as something resembling a friend.

“You seem nervous, Lord Evergreen. Has something happened?” she asked formally.

“No, your grace, but I do fear something might happen, and I wish for us to speak as two parents.” he brought the subject up softly.

To that, Visenya seemed to drop the formalities. She seemed concerned, but also very aware of what Duncan was getting at, nodding at him to proceed.

“Our children have been friends for almost ten years, and I think they bring out the best in each other, truly. But they’re no longer children.” he paused, “Surely, you’ve noticed.” he added carefully.

Visenya sighed and nodded.

“I did notice their infatuation has seemed to… grow. I do believe they’re still young, they’ll get past it. It’s normal at this age to find fleeting crushes.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant, your grace.” he breathed, wondering how in the seven hells he could tell her.

“What is it? You know you can speak freely to me Duncan.” she assured him, but it didn’t help much.

“I don’t mean to come off as crass, but it seems some hair ribbons of Rowan’s have gone missing, and I’ve caught sight of them in Prince Maegor’s pockets.” another breath. “I’m not accusing him of anything, I know he’d never disgrace her, but he’s almost a man grown. I think it’d be best if they get some distance. It’s time they stop being alone without a chaperone, do you not think so, your grace?” he managed to spit out.

The Queen’s eyes widened, indicating she was not aware how far her son’s infatuation had gone. She thought for a second, before meeting his eyes again.

“Thank you for telling me. I’ll speak to him, worry not. At least in King’s Landing they’ll only meet in common areas. I understand you worry for her, I do love her dearly, I hope you know this. Nothing will happen to her. I promise.” she reassured him.

“Thank you, your grace. I do not wish for their friendship to end, but you know how much people whisper. It could hurt Rowan’s future greatly.”

“I understand. I’ll talk some sense into him.”

The conversation was a sigh of relief. There was only one person Maegor would listen to, and that was Visenya, and he was beyond happy to see that she was on the same page.

But now, he did have to have a talk with Rowan, although he dreaded it. She was a young woman now, yes, but in his eyes she was still a little child. Perhaps it’s true of all parents.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, worried.

“Why would you assume something was wrong, my sweet?” he laughed.

“You have a look about you that screams something’s wrong.” Rowan stated, still worried for her father.

“Nothing is wrong, I just think it’s important we talk about something.” he started. “About Maegor.”

“What about Maegor?”

“I know how close you two are, and I’m happy you’re friends, but you’re no longer children. It’s no longer appropriate for you two to be alone, not without a chaperone.” he said, rubbing her shoulder.

“We did nothing wrong father, in truth!” Rowan panicked.

“I don’t doubt that for a second, dearest, I don’t, but we’re not in Dragonstone. The gossip in the capital could ruin a person’s life. To hear that a young lady was alone in her room with the prince, it could be damning. I know you’re just friends and like to spend time together, I’m not asking you to stop that. I am asking you to keep it in public areas and to not be alone. In the gardens, or around the city, anywhere where nobody can imagine anything indecent.” he sighed. “You did nothing wrong, my love, I promise. It’s just how things are.”

Rowan furrowed her eyebrows, seemingly upset, before letting out a sigh.

“You’re right. I’d hate for either of us to be followed by gossip.” she concluded sadly.

“You’re still friends, my love, that doesn’t change.” he said, hugging her, to reassure her.

“You wished to see me, mother?” Maegor’s voice echoed in the room.

“I did. Come, sit.” she patted the empty spot on the couch next to her.

She studied her son. He was wearing his armour, looking every bit the knight that he was. Where had time gone? It was just yesterday that she first held him in her arms as a babe, and now he towered over everyone in Westeros.

“I think you know why I want to speak with you.” she made sure her tone was stern.

“I do not. Have I done something to displease you?” he asked.

“You have.” she stated. “I’ve told you before, you and Rowan are no longer children. It is therefore inappropriate for you two to be alone. Do you know what such gossip would bring?”

“We’ve done nothing inappropriate, mother, to hell with their gossip. They can answer to the dragons.” he spat out.

“The gossip will do nothing to us, but it will ruin Rowan, do you not understand? Such rumours could ruin any potential matches she could have in the future, you cannot think only of yourself Maegor!” she said, irritated.

Maegor opened his mouth, as if looking for courage, before finally speaking up.

“So wed her to me. Wed Rowan to me, and there’ll be no worry for rumours or gossip.” his breathing seemed to quicken.

Visenya was stunned for a moment.

“You wish to wed her to avoid rumours? You cannot make such demands on a whim.” she furrowed her brows.

“No! It’s not like that. I’ve wished to ask this of you for a long time. Do you not approve of her?” his eyes betrayed worry, making Visenya sigh.

“I adore the girl, you know this. However, you are a prince. Your marriage is a political tool for our house to solidify our claim to the throne. Your claim Maegor. It’s not something you can decide on your own.” she explained calmly.

“But the Evergreens are rich.”

“But not as powerful or influential as the great houses. Look, I’m sorry. I understand you’re upset about this, but that’s just how things are. Do you think Aenys had a say when he was wed to Alyssa? Do you think your father or I had a say when we were wed?”

Maegor looked to the floor in defeat. Visenya grabbed his hand with both of hers.

“I don’t want you to get your hopes up, but when you come of age, IF you still feel this way, I’ll speak to your father, to see what can be done. But this guarantees nothing. Do you understand?” she asked, smiling when her son’s face lit up.

“Yes, thank you mother!” he said, embracing her like a little boy.

“And Maegor?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever steal anything from her again.”

She felt him freeze, pulling away to see the colour drain from his face.

“It’s not polite, now is it?” she sighed.

He quickly shook his head, looking incredibly embarrassed to have been caught. Visenya lightly laughed.

“Now, swear to me you’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

“I swear it, mother.” he said, his face now completely red.

It didn’t matter how big and tall he got, it was still entertaining to see him react the same way he did since he was small.

“Very well. Now, off you go. I’m sure you have things to do.”

Rowan sighed, trying to wash the ink off her hands. The more she wrote, the more ink stained her hands had become. It was high time she got used to it, she reckoned. She returned to the libraries shortly, wishing to hide away in the books than to face how she truly felt. There was only Grandmaester Gawen on the other end of the room, rummaging through some scrolls.

She sat down, opening the large history book, as well as her notebook to keep notes, and just stared at the page. She couldn’t focus. All she could think about was Maegor, and how things had changed. She didn’t know when things had changed exactly, but they did. Perhaps it was all part of getting older. Change is inevitable after all.

Things between them became more serious. Deeper, she could say. What she felt for him now was deeper than before. She didn’t dare say it out loud, because if she said it out loud, it meant she acknowledged it, which meant it was real. She thought of the Queen’s words, that at their age it’s normal to have crushes. But she also thought of her parents, who fell in love when they were her age, and then got married. Both could be true, but then what was this? How she wished her mother was there, in moments like these. Her father loved her, but didn’t understand her the way her mother did. It was all so frustrating.

How many emotions could a person feel at once, she wondered? Because she felt so many things at that moment. Embarrassment at how her father noticed the change as well, worry at wondering who else had noticed, nervousness at what Maegor would think of all of this, and a bit of excitement to find out. She didn’t know why. Part of her wished they were in Dragonstone, where no one would whisper, but that’s not the case now.

“I thought I’d find you here.” his familiar voice startled her, speaking in high Valyrian so as to not be overheard by the Grandmaester.

“You scared me!” she replied.

“Sorry.” he smiled, sitting down across from her, opening a random book up, as if to study. “Has your father spoken to you?” he said, looking at the pages in front of him.

“He did. And you? The Queen?”

“Yes, she was quite annoyed with me. I shouldn’t have come to your rooms yesterday, it was inappropriate. I’m sorry to have put you in such a position.” he said, looking down at her with apologetic eyes.

“It’s not like we’re strangers. But I should’ve known better as well. I wasn’t thinking clearly, it seems.” she answered.

“I don’t want to be far from you. I don’t want us to become strangers because of this. Perhaps like this? And you’ll get to practice more of your high Valyrian.” he suggested.

“If you don’t make fun of my accent, you have a deal, my Prince.” she smiled.

All the worry and embarrassment faded away when she looked in his eyes. She felt so safe, so at ease, it didn’t matter if the room was full of people, it felt like it was only them. Perhaps she was delaying the inevitable by not admitting it to herself. But did she have the courage to admit it? To admit she was falling in love? Was this not a sure way to get hurt? What did it matter that she was in love when it came to duty? Surely Maegor would marry a beautiful woman of a great house and he’d have a lovely family, and she’d be left heartbroken.

She never wanted for anything more when it came to wealth and power. Her family had just the right amount where she didn’t have to worry about anything, but also not too much to the point of being targeted. It was a great privilege, one she didn’t treat lightly. But in that moment, she wished she came from a great house of great importance, to have the chance to be with him forever. It was a silly fantasy. One that would end up hurting her. She could feel it.

“Are you already tired of my company?” he laughed, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Hm?”

“You’re spacing out again. Are you worried?” he asked.

“…I am.”

“About what?”

“About many things. Things out of our control.”

Maegor looked around the library, satisfied to see that the old man had his back turned to them, before he grabbed her hand on the desk.

“You’ll find I can take control of things quite well, especially when it concerns something really important to me.” he whispered, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll find a way. I will.”

“What… What are you insinuating?”

“I’m saying that you’re my closest and dearest friend, I won’t let any gossip or rumours harm you. Not when the only crime you’ve committed is being my friend. It’s not fair.” he said after some hesitation.

It wasn’t fair at all. His eyes saying one thing, but his lips another. She didn’t like feeling this confused, but it seemed neither of them felt ready to be completely truthful just yet. She rubbed the back of his hand, giving him a small smile. As long as they got to spend time like this, she could wait.

“It’s truly exhausting, the capital. I’m glad we’re back here.” Visenya sighed in relief as Rowan helped her let her intricate braids down.

“I thought you enjoyed it, your grace.”

“I enjoyed it, yes, but it’s still an exhausting place to be. So much noise.”

“The king seemed pleased to see you.” Rowan smiled.

Visenya let out a small laugh. For someone so pragmatic, Rowan was still an optimistic young girl.

“It’s just appearances, my dear.”

“But do you not wish it to be true? Do you not want him to try and fix things?”

“Some things cannot be fixed Rowan. It’s not a small mistake he made once, it’s choices he’s made for most of my years that cannot be brought back. He can’t undo the damage.” she smiled at the girl.

“So why? Why is he suddenly so nice?” she said after much thought.

“I don’t know, but I don’t trust it. ”

“Do you think he plans to do something?” she asked while brushing her hair carefully.

“That, I intend to find out.”

“I wish he was genuine. I want you to be happy.”

Visenya studied Rowan’s somber expression in the mirror, before turning around to grasp her hands.

“Do not worry about me.”

“How can you ask me that? How can I not?” she asked softly.

Visenya felt a bit of guilt. Would it be selfish to betrothe her to Maegor, just to call Rowan her daughter in truth? He did have feelings for her, and Rowan seemed to return them, albeit shyly. Would it truly be so bad of a match? She could convince Aegon. It was her son’s life, she alone raised him, she could make that decision.

“Rowan, can I ask you something?”

“Always, your grace.”

“What do you desire most for your future?”

“My future?” Rowan paused. “I wish to be happy.” she replied after some thought.

“And what would make you happy?” Visenya inquired.

“It’s not just one thing, I think I could find happiness in a lot of different situations, not a unique one. It’s not realistic to be happy all the time, I know, but I wish to have a life that allows me moments of happiness often.” she replied.

“And is there a person in particular that would make you very happy?” Visenya smiled as the young girl blushed and looked down.

“A few. I'm happy when I spend time with you.”

“Yes, but I do suspect there’s someone else as well.” Visenya laughed. “Someone taller?”

“I do not know what you’re talking about, your grace.” she blushed and looked down.

“You’re a terrible liar. Your eyes always betray you.” she smiled. “We’re on Dragonstone now, no need to fret.” she patted her hair gently, teasing her a bit.

At least Rowan’s side was still innocent. She’d make a lovely bride one day. And if Visenya played her cards right, it would be Maegor she’d be walking down the aisle to.

taglist:@heartstalked@stupidocupido@discowizard88

#maegor targaryen x oc #maegor targaryen #maegor the cruel

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savage-rhi · 1 year

Note

Could I request this prompt? Yeah, I killed him! He used to hit you! What did you expect me to do?! Leave him alone? For Ardyn x Reader

I imagine Ardyn saying something like this when he finds out that the reader used to be in a violent relationship and he “takes care of it,” of course, if you don’t feel comfortable doing this prompt I totally understand, so I’ll also put forward this one too I’m not going anywhere

Hope you’re having a good day ☺️

@blossom-adventures I had fun writing this all out, and I hope you like it! Thanks for checking in on me too. I hope you're well!

Y/N let out a deep breath as they traversed through the grand hall of the imperial palace. They were marching their way toward Ardyn’s chambers since he couldn’t be found in his office. There were so many mixed emotions that brewed within Y/N that they ignored the prying eyes and whispers of fellow Imperial Helpers that were maintaining the palace. Gossip and rumors didn’t hold a torch to the kind of frustration Y/N was feeling at this moment. What mattered now was finding the Chancellor.

A heaviness lingered in Y/N’s gaze as they gripped tightly upon the envelope that was in their possession, and the events of the morning began to play out in their mind.

It all began with a knock on their apartment door. With caution, Y/N opened it up to reveal an Imperial Martial. Within Niflheim, getting a visit from one of these guys meant time in jail would be around the corner. Though Y/N was well aware they hadn’t broken any laws or violated policy when it came to their job, the fear of being taken away over something minuscule instantly had them on edge. It seemed the Martial caught on quickly, and he did his best to soften his hardened features.

“I apologize to be calling on you like this, but are you Y/N Y/L/N?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, I am. I don’t recall breaking any laws but if you need my compliance, I’ll--”

“No, no, no,” The Martial calmly raised his hand at them. “This isn’t one of those calls, fortunately. However, I do have some rather terrible news. Is it true you were once in a relationship with a man by the name of ---- ?”

As soon as Y/N heard the name, their mind immediately blocked it out. It was strange. Y/N could see the Martial’s lips moving, but when he said their ex’s name, only a dull static would register in their ears. Even though Y/N had been free of the man for years, their body still kept the score of his trespasses. Nonetheless, they nodded and tried to keep calm and collected.

“When was the last time you spoke with ---, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Um,” Y/N closed their eyes for a moment and swallowed. “I haven’t said a word to him in years. We didn’t exactly have an amicable breakup. He’s tried calling here and there, but I ignored him. Did something happen?”

“I’m afraid so,” The Imperial Martial said and furrowed his brows. From what Y/N could tell, the man looked disturbed momentarily. “---’s body was found three days ago. He went on a camping trip with some work colleagues and met his fate.”

“Gods be damned,” Y/N muttered. Their eyes slightly widened in shock. “What happened to him?”

“I’m not a liberty to discuss--”

“Please,” Y/N pleaded. “I need to know.”

The Imperial Martial debated with himself while he glanced over Y/N’s eyes. He was in no position to judge a complicated relationship, and feeling sorry for them decided to be honest.

“Well, since the investigation is over, I guess it won’t hurt anything,” The Martial sighed. “Witnesses said ---- ventured away from camp, having heard something. His colleagues then heard him scream and went to find him but whatever attacked him took off quickly. That was two days before he was found. Based on multiple wounds and fractures, we believe ---- was mauled by an animal, most likely a rogue flexitusk. That’s the official statement, although it’s not conclusive.”

“Why is that?” Y/N asked in puzzlement.

“Well,” The Martial took in a deep breath through his nose. “There was almost nothing left of the body when it was recovered.”

Y/N’s mouth hung open. They could feel their blood, even down to the most simple of cell structures in their body, turn cold. Y/N averted their gaze from the martial, giving a nod that they registered what he said.

“Anyhow,” The Martial cleared his throat and glanced down at an envelope he had been carrying. He presented it to Y/N, watching their shaking hands take it with hesitance. “---- had no next of kin, but we did find that he had a deal with his bank to leave his remnants to you in the event he passes. In the envelope is your portion of his life earnings, with the rest going back to the empire as per Niflheim rule. You will also be receiving his incident report for record keeping. I am sorry for your loss, and must be on my way.”

“That’s fine. Thank you.” Y/N muttered. The Imperial Martial gave a curt nod with his head and left.

As the initial shock of the news began to wane, it didn’t take long before Y/N’s mind had a terrible thought, and this terrible thought led them to rush toward the imperial palace on their day off to confront Ardyn.

In the present, Y/N approached the entrance to Ardyn’s chambers. They wasted no time shoving the doors open. This broke many palace protocols, but Y/N didn’t care. Nothing mattered but this terrible burden that was on their mind, that they hoped against hope was wrong.

In his living space, Ardyn was standing by the large windows of his balcony with three members of the imperial council, conversing about shortages due to the war. From time to time, Ardyn sighed while looking over some papers, not before he did a double take seeing Y/N walking right up to him.

“Y/N?” Ardyn furrowed his brows in surprise, ignoring the confused looks on the councilmen, and he quickly approached. “What are you doing here, isn’t it your day off?”

“We need to talk,” Y/N whispered. They swallowed, glancing at the councilmen briefly before focusing back on him. “Alone, preferably if you can do that.”

“Of course,” Ardyn murmured gently. He turned his attention to the councilmen and gestured. “Leave us. We’ll go over the rest of this nonsense at the meeting tomorrow.”

“Thank you for your time, Chancellor Izunia.” One of the councilmen smiled. They each bowed their head toward him to which Ardyn returned the gesture, and with haste departed from the dwelling.

Once the men were gone, Ardyn’s features relaxed as he let out a sigh of relief and laughed. “I never thought I was going to get out of that mess! You saved me from utter boredom just now.”

“Ardyn--”

“You are a sight for sore eyes,” Ardyn teased playfully before concern crossed his features. “And you look absolutely winded. Can I get you something to drink or--”

“Did you have anything to do with the death of my ex?” Y/N interrupted before Ardyn had the chance to finish his sentence. They watched as his expression went from inviting and worried to cold and shocked as if he had been slapped. A foreboding silence fell between the two of them not long after, and the chambers began to feel heavy. It was enough to give Y/N the courage to speak up again.

“Two weeks ago, in these chambers, I confided in you about my past. The good and the bad. You told me I was safe here. That my words were safe here. Now I’m scared that I got somebody killed because of my words.” Y/N tossed the envelope down onto the floor, revealing the papers.

“He hurt you,” Ardyn whispered bitterly as he made a fist while looking at the documents.

“Gods,” Y/N shook their head and took a step back. The stress from the morning finally broke through as they boldly began to raise their voice. “You actually did it!”

“Yeah, I killed him!” Ardyn admitted with great anger. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. A sadness dwelled in the flames of his amber eyes as he forced himself to look upon Y/N. “He used to hit you! What did you expect me to do, leave him alone?!”

“What he did to me was awful, but---Ardyn, that wasn’t your call to make!” Y/N countered. “Is it so easy for you to disregard the life of another, to make it look like an animal ripped him apart?”

“I was protecting you!” Ardyn said in his defense. “Niflheim’s justice system failed to keep you safe when you sought help, and so I took matters into my own hands!”

“As true as that may be,” Y/N shook their head. “Ardyn, I told you I didn’t care about getting justice anymore. As long as he left me alone, I would be alright! Why didn’t you take me at my word?”

“He kept trying to contact you!” Ardyn seethed, catching himself yelling, and dialed back. “Y/N, I work with men like your ex. Once they want to tarnish something, they become relentless in the pursuit! It wasn’t a matter of if but when he’d try to hurt you again! I couldn’t let you take that risk! Now you have peace of mind that he’s gone and you have financial restitution! Isn’t that generous!?”

“Ardyn, I didn’t want this!” Y/N began to tear up. “I told you what happened to me because I felt safe with you. I never told anyone, but you. And now I feel like I played a hand in a murder. My ex was vile but---not even he deserved what had been done to him. I feel so sick. Now I’m scared that if I tell you that someone so much as looked at me weirdly, you’d just discard them like trash.”

“Y/N,” Ardyn sighed, shaking his head.

“I don’t think we should be speaking to one another anymore,” Y/N swallowed. “You’ve made working here bearable, and I like you…a lot, but I’m terrified. I’m really fucking terrified, Ardyn.”

Ardyn shook his head and averted his gaze. Although enraged at being confronted, he sat with what had been thrown his way, knowing he had no right to be upset with Y/N’s reaction. He quietly glared toward the windows of his abode, hearing the sound of Y/N’s footsteps as they ventured for the exit. He knew he should let them go, it would’ve been the right thing to do, but selfishly he shadow-stepped, popping right in front of Y/N causing them to jump back.

“Y/N,” Ardyn breathed, his eyes held a silent plead in them as he met their tired gaze. “I refuse to apologize for what I’ve done. That being said, I can and will atone for you.”

“How?” Y/N sniffled, shaking their head.

“You and Verstael are the only souls in Niflheim that know I am Adagium,” Ardyn said softly. “You could bring me to ruin if you wanted, undo all I have planned if it would bring you peace after what I’ve done. However, I won’t lose you. Do you hear me? I already lost everyone I’d held dear in my life, everyone but you.”

“What are you saying, really?” Y/N knew Ardyn well enough to know that when he overexplained himself, there was usually something much more simple he was trying to convey.

“I---” Ardyn’s brows knitted in a glare, frustrated with himself. “I can’t say, but perhaps I can show it?”

With hesitance, Y/N nodded and observed his features, while also watching Ardyn slowly taking hold of their right hand into his. He had them place their palm upon his chest where his heart lay and took in a deep breath before his eyes became muddled with darkness. Only the honey color of his irises remained as his daemonic features began to manifest.

Y/N locked their eyes with Ardyn, staring with awe and fear. Then they felt it. His pulse picked up, and the powerful thrum of his heartbeat pulsed against their palm.

“There are millions of voices that dwell within this body. It’s quiet in my head when you’re around, to where I can hear myself underneath it all.” Ardyn murmured inhumanly while his daemonic eyes held Y/N in high regard.

He was scary. This situation, this relationship--whatever it was between them, was scary, but there was something in Ardyn’s voice that pulled Y/N away from the fear. Enough to where they drew close and embraced him with shaky arms. He returned the gesture, and Y/N noted how Ardyn was mindful not to be too rough as he hugged them back.

“Are you still in there?” Y/N muttered against him, still crying but for another reason as the pain of his earlier words resonated.

“I am,” Ardyn gently reassured. “And this soul cares a great deal for you. I promise I'll fix what I've broke."

Y/N pulled back from his chest and felt Ardyn’s right hand tilt their chin up. A contemplative look crossed over his features, and he pressed his lips to their forehead. The kiss lingered like a warm welcome and Y/N felt as if somehow Ardyn was taking every ounce of their sadness, their anger, into himself. Ensuring they wouldn’t suffer much like he had done as a healer from 2,000 years ago.

“Stay with me. Please.” Ardyn whispered against their skin.

Y/N couldn’t say no to that and remained in his embrace. Somehow, it would be alright in the end. Y/N had to believe it. They had to believe in him, that Ardyn would do right by them.

"I'm not going anywhere."

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anonymousewrites · 1 year

Text

Logos and Pathos (Book 2) Chapter Seven

Spock x Empath! Reader

Chapter Seven: Parallel Universe

Summary: (Y/N) and their friends are displaced as they beam aboard the Enterprise. They're now in a parallel universe where the people they care about are cruel. Hopefully they escape before any issues arise.

Captain’s Log: The Enterprise has been tasked to discuss dilithium crystal mining treaties with the Halkan Council. An ion storm is threatening communication and transport, but so far presents no obstacles.

Thunder crashed around them as (Y/N), Kirk, Scotty, Uhura, and Bones stood speaking to the Halkan council.

“We believe what you say, Captain Kirk, but our position has not altered,” said the council leader. “The Halkan Council cannot permit your Federation to mine dilithium crystals on our planet.”

“We have shown the Council historical proof that our missions are peaceful,” said Kirk.

“We accept that your Federation is benevolent, at present. But the future is always in questioned. Out dilithium crystals represent awesome power. Wrongful use of that power, even to the extent of the taking of one life, would violate our history of total peace. To prevent that, we would die, Captain, as a race, if necessary.”

Kirk appealed to (Y/N), but they shook their head. The Halkan Counselor’s emotions did not waver; he would not be swayed.

“I admire your ethics and hope to prove ours,” said Kirk politely. Thunder crashed again. “Kirk to Enterprise,” he said into his communicator. He was a little worried about the conditions.

“Spock here.”

“Report on magnetic storm, Mr. Spock,” said Kirk.

“Standard ion type, Captain, but quite violent and unpredictable,” reported Spock.

“Rough ride?” asked Kirk.

“If we stay,” replied Spock.

“Right. Stand by to beam up landing party,” said Kirk. “Plot an extended orbit to clear disturbance. Kirk out.”

“When may we resume discussion?” asked (Y/N) politely to the Halkan Council.

“The Council will meditate further,” replied the head counselor. “But do not be hopeful of any change.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Thank you for your consideration all the same.”

They joined the rest of the landing party as they prepared to be beamed back to the Enterprise.

“Lieutenant,” said the head counselor, and (Y/N) looked back. “You do have the might to force the crystals from us, of course.”

(Y/N) smiled. “But we won’t. That is not the Federation’s way. Consider that.”

Kirk smiled and flipped open his communicator. “Transporter Room, energize.”

The landing party was beamed away. As they did, though, the ion storm raged, and they could feel a strange force pulling them as they transported.

(Y/N) groaned as they reformed in the Transporter. Their eyes widened as they found themself in a new outfit. Instead of their yellow uniform of a long-sleeved shirt and trousers, they found themself in a yellow cropped shirt paired with a short yellow skirt with a gold belt tied around it.

Bones, Kirk, Uhura, and Scotty were in similarly altered outfits. Their eyes widened as they saw Spock at the Transporter controls with a beard and such a uniform. Something was very wrong.

“Status of mission, Captain?” asked Spock.

(Y/N) found themselves on edge with him. This was definitely not the Spock they knew, and it wasn’t just the face that said it. Even though they could never sense his emotions, they just…knew him. It could only be explained in that (Y/N) loved Spock, and their heart knew this was not their Spock.

“No change…” said Kirk hesitantly, trying to seem normal until they figured out what was going on.

“Standard procedure, then?” questioned Spock. Kirk nodded silently, and Spock walked to the communications system. “Mr. Sulu, you will program a phaser barrage on Halkan cities.”

“Yes, Mr. Spock,” replied Sulu across the comms.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. That’s standard procedure?!

“Their military capability, Lieutenant?” asked Spock, looking at (Y/N).

They blinked. “Uh, none.”

“Regrettable that this society has chosen suicide,” said Spock. He looked to the Transporter Engineer beside him. “Mr. Kyle. You were instructed to compensate during the ion storm.”

“But I tried,” cried Kyle.

“Carelessness with the equipment cannot be tolerate,” said Spock harshly.

“But, Mr. Spock, I—” pleaded Kyle.

“Your agonizer,” said Spock.

“No, Mr. Spock!” cried Kyle.

“Your agonizer, please.” It was not a request; it was a command.

Kyle cried out as a security officer grabbed him. “I tried, I really tried.”

Spock removed a small device from Kyle’s waistband and pressed it to his chest. A spark of electricity sparked, and Kylo cried out in pain. (Y/N) flinched at the acute agony flying from him in his emotions. Kyle wailed before he collapsed to the floor and Spock dropped the agonizer by him.

Spock stepped over him. “Mr. Scotty, the storm has caused some minor damage in your section. There are also inquires requiring your attention, Doctor.”

“M-Mr. Spock,” said Kyle’s faint voice. He had forced himself to stand and return to his post. Apparently, that punishment was not an uncommon one in this Enterprise. “The power beam jumped for a moment, sir, just as the landing party was about to materialize.”

So that’s when whatever happened…happened, thought (Y/N).

“I never saw it happen before,” said Kyle.

“Due to your error, Mr. Kyle?” challenged Spock.

“No, Mr. Spock. Before,” said Kyle.

“A result of the storm, I’m sure,” said (Y/N), trying to avoid Kyle getting tortured again.

Spock’s eyes narrowed slightly, but (Y/N)’s expression didn’t break. “Do you feel any abnormal effects, Lieutenant?”

“Yes. Slight dizziness. I suspect the rest of the landing party feels the same.” (Y/N) looked back at them. “Right, Captain?”

Kirk latched on to their idea. “Yes. Dr. McCoy, I believe you should check us over.”

“Right,” said Dr. McCoy.

The landing party carefully walked past Spock. (Y/N) was aware of his eyes on them, and they inwardly cursed themself. If their interference revealed they weren’t the right “(Y/N)” for this Enterprise, that wouldn’t be good. This was a brutal place, and they didn’t want to discover what could happen to them.

“Captain, what is all this?” asked Scotty furtively as they walked through the corridors of the Enterprise.

“How did we get into—?” began Bones.

“Not until we’re alone,” murmured (Y/N).

Finally, they made it to Sickbay and thankfully had no one else around. Bones frowned at his workplace.

“Everything’s all messed up and changed around, out of place,” he observed.

“What’s happened?” asked Uhura.

“I don’t know,” said Kirk. “It’s our Enterprise…but it isn’t.”

“I have a theory,” said (Y/N), and the others turned to them. “Well, I was being honest earlier. I did feel dizziness while we transported. I’m guessing the rest of you felt that, too. Like, two twinges. When we materialized, and then, for a moment, we dematerialized again from the ion storm. What if that was when we switched…realities? I’m not sure, but I think that’s when we ended up here.”

Scotty nodded. “The Transporter Chief mentioned a surge of power. The transporter lock might have been affected by the ion storm, and we just materialized somewhere else.”

“Yes, here,” said Kirk, agreeing. “Not our universe, not our ship. Something…parallel, like (L/N) realized.”

“Another dimensional plane existing alongside our own,” said (Y/N). They frowned. “Our counterparts must have beamed up at the same time, with the same storm, experienced the same surge of power, and therefore got switched with us. The question is, how do we get back?”

“And what about the Halkans?” said Bones. “We can’t let them be destroyed.”

“Scotty, can you buy us some time?” asked Kirk. “Get below and short out the main phaser couplings. They’ll think the storm blew the standby circuits.”

“Aye, sir,” said Scotty.

“Then get on this technology,” said Kirk. “It’s all we have to work with if we want to get back home. The intercom may be monitored. Use your communicators for private messages. Sub-frequency and scramble. Uhura, get to your post. Run today’s communication from Starfleet Command. I want to know my, or this Kirk’s, exact orders and options, if any.”

“Yes, sir,” said Uhura, leaving with Scotty.

“Bones, (L/N), let’s take a look at the library. We have a lot to learn about this world,” said Kirk.

The bosun whistled, and Spock’s voice came over the intercom. “Dr. McCoy, once you are done checking over Lieutenant (L/N)’s health, send them to my laboratory.” No explanation, no request, just a sharp order.

Bones and Kirk looked at (Y/N) worriedly. They sighed. “Don’t worry. I’ll be alright.”

“Are you sure?” asked Bones. “This isn’t our world’s Spock. This guy really is a hobgoblin.”

“Yes, but he still seems to operate on logic, and I’ve spent enough time with my—our Spock to understand what type of argument works on him.” They smiled “Any suspicions he has, I’ll be able to avoid consequences for a little bit. Just clean up this mess so we can get out of here.” I wish I was as confident as I sounded. (Y/N) stood and left, heading to Spock’s laboratory.

Bones exchanged a look with Kirk. “Are we worried that this Spock will hurt them?”

Kirk shrugged. “I mean, not everything is different about this world. If we’re lucky, Spock’s feelings for (L/N) won’t be that different.”

“Good luck with this Spock. Heart seems even colder than ours,” said Bones.

Kirk sighed. “We can only hope.”

(Y/N) knocked on Spock’s laboratory door. It opened with a swish, and they stepped inside. “You asked to see me, S-Mr. Spock?” said (Y/N), remaining polite.

“Yes,” said Spock. “Is the Captain well? Mr. Kyle will be punished if the Transporter malfunction caused farther harm.”

“We are all healthy. Dr. McCoy ensured it,” said (Y/N) curtly.

Spock nodded. “And there are no other issues?”

He was probing for any hints of problems, any clue that something was amiss. “No, sir.”

“I am aware, Lieutenant, that in the past, you were…negligible of your duties,” said Spock.

Negligible? Just what is my role in this world? thought (Y/N).

“However, you proved that you understood your role and have reported on our enemies’ vulnerabilities with precision,” said Spock. “I trust the Halkans are not bringing out your old instincts for mercy. There is no place for weakness in the Empire.”

There was something strange in his expression, noticed (Y/N), but they could not place it. However, they didn’t let their hope for some good in Spock guide them. They needed to be wary. They didn’t know the man in front of them.

“Of course not, sir,” said (Y/N). “I did my job. There was nothing but honesty in the Halkans. Their minds could not be swayed by their emotions.” Please let our negotiations have gone the same as this world’s.

Spock looked at them appraisingly. “Very well. We shall report to the Bridge.”

“Yes, sir,” said (Y/N). They had the distinct impression Spock still knew something was amiss.

Spock and (Y/N) entered the Bridge, and (Y/N) was struck by another aspect of this world they didn’t like—the stares. With their revealing uniform, eyes were on them, raking over their figure in a way that made them struggle not to shiver in disgust. (Y/N) didn’t doubt that their alternate self probably used the attention to their advantage, if only to distract people so they could manipulate them. If (Y/N) was a crueler, more strategic person, that’s what they’d do with their good looks. The humans called it a “femme fatale” when a woman did so, if (Y/N) wasn’t mistaken.

“Planet’s rotation is carrying primary target beyond arc of phaser lock,” reported Spock. “Shall I correct orbit to new firing position?”

“No,” said Kirk.

Spock raised his eyebrows and faced Kirk. Apparently, he hadn’t anticipated such an answer. The Kirk of this world apparently wouldn’t say no to such a request. However, Spock pushed it aside. “Lock on to secondary city.”

“Aye, sir,” said Sulu.

“Lieutenant Uhura, I wish to talk to them again,” said Kirk.

“Yes, sir,” said Uhura.

“Captain?” said Spock.

“This is a new race,” said Kirk. “They offer other things of value besides dilithium crystals.”

“But it is clear that we cannot expect their cooperation,” said Spock. “They have refused the Empire. Command Procedure dictates that we provide the customary example.”

“Secondary target is now moving beyond our phaser lock,” said Sulu.

“Put phasers on standby, Mr. Sulu,” ordered Kirk.

(Y/N) had to force themselves not to breath a sigh of relief at the Halkans avoiding death once more.

“A serious breach of orders, Captain,” said Spock warningly.

“I’m certain the Captain has his reasons. Are you certain you wish to question him?” challenged (Y/N) to get Spock to back down. Spock narrowed his eyes slightly but held his tongue as Uhura received a transmission.

“Captain, I have the leader of the Halkan Council waiting on Channel B,” said Uhura.

“It is useless to resist us,” said Kirk as the Halkan Council leader’s face appeared on the screen.

“We do not resist you,” said the councilman, shaking his head.

“You have twelve hours…to consider your position,” announced Kirk.

“Twelve years, Captain Kirk, or twelve thousand,” said the councilman. “We are ethically compelled to deny your demand for our dilithium crystals, for you would use their power to destroy.”

“We will level your planet and take what we want,” threatened Kirk, but (Y/N), of course, sensed no aggression. He merely played the part. “That is utter destruction. You will die as a race. Twelve hours, no more.” He glanced at Uhura. “Close communications.” The screen shut off. To Sulu, Kirk ordered, “Turn phasers off.”

“Twelve hours, Captain?” questioned Spock with an arched brow. “That is unprecedented.”

(Y/N) glanced at Kirk, conveying with their eyes that he needed to lie low and seem normal for a little while. Kirk understood and left his seat.

“I shall be in my quarters,” he said as he walked to the elevator. “Lieutenant Uhura, have Dr. McCoy and Mr. Scott meet me there. Lieutenant (L/N), follow.”

“Yes, Captain,” said (Y/N), avoiding Spock’s narrowed, suspicious gaze as they followed.

They had a chance to save the Halkans, but now they needed to escape from this reality. The question was—could they do it before anyone figured out who they were?

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