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kitscutie · 5 months

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snow and roses: part II (coriolanus snow x fem!reader)

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: none except the nature of the Hunger Games franchise! later on in the series there will be hints to dark!coriolanus snow and lots of angst so be prepared!

summary: you and coriolanus have been dating in secret for months, all it takes is one songbird for everything to come into the light.

a/n: part two is here! hope you enjoy, remember requests are open and there are more parts to come :) p.s - all of the love on part one means the world!

word count: 2.3k

find part one here!

join my taglist here!

Over the past eighteen years you couldn't picture a single day you and Coriolanus hadn't spent together. Birthdays, school days, even throughout the war, you spent time together.

Today was different. He hadn't met you this morning and you couldn't help but miss his presence. His character enveloped a room, always making it clear he was there without really having to say a word. You found it comforting, others found it threatening.

The Tributes arrived early this morning and it was something you had dreaded, very soon you would actually have to meet Wovey. Mentor her, care for her, and it riddled you with guilt knowing that it was all a challenge. Her life was a challenge to you.

Coryo's presence could've softened that burden and yet, he wasn't here. No warning no explanation he just didn't show.

"Where's Snow?" Asked Arachne as you all stood outside your classroom at the Academy, preparing for yet another lecture from Casca.

"I wouldn't know." You shrugged, secretly seething at your boyfriends disregard to tell you where he was going before he disappeared.

"Oh please. You two are practically attached at the hip." Scoffed Festus. Fixing his hair in a small compact mirror which he carried around in his bag.

"I heard he's with his songbird." Mock sang Felix. Knowing it would most likely piss you off to the high heavens.

"And where did you hear that, Felix?" You asked, tilting your head in questions, eyebrows furrowed. While Felix was a tease he was not a liar.

"Lucky's newest interview. He was in the zoo with the tributes, I mean it was almost comedic. But, I've got to say the most interesting part was when they held hands." He said. You couldn't hide the anger on your face no matter how hard you tried and it was only made worse when you spotted Sejanus' sympathetic glance from over his shoulder.

"Well, he is very motivated to win the Prize I suppose." You murmured, now embarrassed, even if they weren't aware he was your boyfriend he was supposed to be your closest ally and here he was prancing around with his new decoration.

Much to your pleasure the large wooden door swung open, everybody filing into the room and taking their assigned seats, the one next to yours empty.

His seat.

Finally, minutes later he entered looking rather sheepish. If he was ashamed you were glad, he should be.

"Your little excursion is in violation of about five Academy rules Mr Snow." Spoke Casca. Deep down you were pleased that he had broken rules, pleading in your mind that this would prevent any further ventures. "Amongst them, endangering a Capitol student."

"Who?" He asked, stopping in his tracks as though he was insulted by the accusation.

"You. I'm moving for the Game makers to disqualify you as a mentor immediately." Casca answered. Guiltily you were happy, you just hoped your face didn't show it as Coriolanus sat down next to you.

"You said that we had to get our tributes to perform, not that we had to stay away." He said leaning against the banister of your seats.

"I don't believe holding their hands was in that agreement." You snarled from behind him and you immediately regretted it as he turned to you, hurt that you weren't defending him.

"Right you are Miss L/N." Casca replied.

"Holding her hand, introducing her to people. You make it look as if were one in the same as those animas." Arachne added. You didn't agree with that, they were very much the same as us but his effort to care for her wounded you internally.

"Coriolanus didn't show those people anything they didn't already know. That the tributes are human beings. Just like us. That's why nobody wants to watch the Games, because people know deep down, that winning a war ten years ago doesn't justify starving peoples children." Sejanus added, yet you couldn't help but feel like Coriolanus didn't truly agree, he just wanted to be let loose for his wrong doings.

"Snow fell. Down in the cage, it fell down in the cage but it landed-" Doctor Gaul appeared, frightening you and many others. She had an atmosphere similar to Coriolanus, threatening and brazen. Maybe that should've scared you more than any District Twelve girl, yet it didn't.

"On stage." Snow finished her riddle without hesitation.

"You're good at games. Maybe one day you'll be a Game maker like me." She grinned evilly. You didn't miss Coriolanus' smile when hearing this and something deep within you stirred.

"Only if the games continue at all." Casca replied.

"Oh they'll continue, with performances like young Mr Snow in that zoo. In fact I came to ask your star Mentor a question. What are the Hunger Games for?" She said confidently.

"They're to punish the Districts for their uprising. To commemorate the end of the war." Coriolanus answered thou hit felt scripted and to some extent it was. That very answer was drilled into your heads from the moment you entered the Academy.

Sejanus began to discredit the Games, calling them what they are. Cruel. Doctor Gaul didn't like that.

"Perhaps the Capitol students are ill suited to be mentoring tributes, perhaps the Games time has passed." Casca said and something about it told you he was on Sejanus' side, that he didn't agree with the very games he created.

"Dean Highbottom is wrong. My classmates too. Maybe Sejanus is onto something, maybe we should be viewing those tributes as human beings." Coriolanus spoke and you tugged at his shirt for him to sit down, to stop defending this inhumane act but he slapped your hand away. "I mean you saw those kids in the zoo, they just wanted to get to know Lucy Gray. If we need people to watch we should be letting them get closer to the tributes before the games. Make the stakes personal." You felt embarrassed by his every word. Embarrassed by his obsession with Lucy Gray and embarrassed that he believed in these games.

"Who will watch the games if they care what happens to the tributes?" Asked Doctor Gaul and even to you, the answer was obvious. Everyone.

"Everyone." Answered Snow, predictable. "If they thought the tribute they cared about had a chance of winning, people need someone to root for and against. We need them to invest. If we bend a few Capitol laws, we could even have them place bets." He continued his proposal.

"You forget you're talking about real people Coriolanus, not just characters in your wider game." You said, eyes cold as he once again turned to you seeming betrayed, you no longer cared.

"Look I know Lucy Gray may not win in the arena but if you give her a chance, I would bet the Plinth Prize that she can win peoples attention." He ignored you, instead once again talking about Lucy. You felt sick by his obsession, betrayed. How long had you been the one to care for him, to root for him and here he was digging a dagger in your heart.

"I would like you to write up a proposal of these thoughts tonight Mr Snow." Doctor Gaul stated. "Perhaps your classmate can help you?" She smirked towards you in question.

You shook your head while keeping your eyes trained on the front of the room, you refused to be apart of his play for Lucy Gray's victory.

You sat alone at lunch, thinking. What was going on between him and that girl and why was he suddenly the Games biggest supporter. You understood the Plinth Prize meant a lot to him. That it would open doors but this was a step too far.

"Y/N, a pleasure." A voice you knew all too well said as it took the seat across from you.

"Coriolanus." You answered bluntly before taking another bite of your sandwich. He could tell something was off from the moment you used his full name, usually calling him Coryo.

"What was that little show back there, hm?" He asked, blue eyes a weapon as he glared at you. Something you had never been on the receiving end of before.

"I could ask you the same thing." You replied, putting your food down to glare back.

"It's a competition, Y/N. One which could change my life, I know you don't have to worry about winning but this means everything to me. You know that. I know the games are animalistic but they'll go on either way-." He defended though you cut him off.

"That's what you think I'm upset about?" You said, exaggerating the 'that's'.

"It's not?" He asked, now curious.

"I don't know, Coriolanus maybe I'm upset about you being obsessed with Lucy Gray. I mean, she's all you've spoken about since the Reaping, you held her hand! Risked your life for her!" You exclaimed in angry, drawing attention to your table.

"Oh what, so your jealous?" He smirked, clearly amused by your outrage.

"Jealous does little to describe what I am feeling, Snow. This is another level. When will you realise that that girl is using you, just as you are using her. Nothing more nothing less. I however am still here, I have been there for years, for you!" You shouted once more and he grew agitated as the room stared, grabbing your wrist with unnecessary aggression to pull your face down to this.

"Don't make a scene Y/N. You're acting like a little girl." He gritted out through his teeth.

"Fuck you, Coriolanus Snow." You replied equally quiet and with menace laced in your words. You saw his face change, as if the anger once there was replaced by a mask of sympathy. It felt ingenuine.

"Come on, Y/N. You know I love you right? I have for how long now, years." He said with kind eyes.

"Don't kid yourself." You scoffed. Though his face stayed the same his grip on your wrist tightened, leaving pink indentations.

"I love you, Y/N. Okay? Not Lucy Gray. She's my tribute just like you said, nothing more nothing less." He once again reassured, never giving up his hold.

Finally the fire in your heart gave out to him and his stupid Snow charm. It never failed to make you swoon and hearing those three words, ones you gave to each other not very often, you just wished to be in his arms.

"Okay." You retreated.

"Okay and?" He asked.

"I love you too." You answered, relieved when he let your wrist go, you were quick to move it below the table, scared to see what he had done to your wrist.

"Good. Now come on, I'm going to give some food to Lucy Gray, strengthen her, I assume you would like to meet Wovey." He said, getting up from his chair. You didn't want to meet Wovey, not really, scared to look her in the eyes. You did however want to meet his pretty little Songbird.

You walked together, hand in hand towards the zoo. He was back to his caring self after the flash of rage you previously saw. It wasn't the first time that side of him had flashed and you knew it wouldn't be the last but moments like these made it all worth it.

Your relationship was secret, but you felt no need to hide it anymore, now determined to show he was yours. Show everyone.

At first you stuck by his side, even when he spoke to Lucy Gray and you felt yourself flinch as she rushed over.

"That for us?" She asked as he held food out to her. Watching as she gave some to her fellow District Twelve Tribute, Jessup. "And who might this be?" She asked, eyeing up your joint hands.

"Wovey's mentor." He answered, without a second thought. Though when you squeezed his hand, his answer changed. "My girlfriend, I mean. Y/N L/N."

"Well Miss L/N, you sure do have the cream of the crop here with Mr Snow. He's a lovely young man." She smiled at you, you couldn't tell if it was your own paranoia telling you it was ingenuine or if she really didn't feel happy for you.

"Oh, and don't I know it." You smiled back. "You've equally had such luck I must say. He's a fine mentor." You added, patting his chest as you boosted his ego.

"Well, thank you." He said, kissing your forehead. "But uh, could you give me and Lucy Gray a moment, Mentor to Tribute?" He asked and that once burnt out flame of jealousy flickered within you as you left to speak to Wovey. You watched as they now leant against the fence to talk, lips inches away, crouched together.

Wovey was a sweet young girl, grateful as you gave her food and she shared it with Bobbin who she had been sat with, you didn't mind her sharing seeing as some Mentors has made little effort to offer any help.

You patted her shoulder through the fence, promising your support to help her reach the end of the games though it seemed she didn't care about winning and you admired her bravery.

A scream cut said conversation short as you looked to see Arachne's neck being stabbed with a smashed glass bottle. Play stupid games win stupid prizes.

You and Coriolanus both rushed over. Even if she was mean and bitchy she was your friend for the last five years and you had grown fond of the girl.

You whispered reassurances as she cried, placing pressure on her neck until you were literally dragged off of her by Peacekeepers, watching as her final breath left her body.

"No, no, no." You whispered with glassy eyes as her body became smaller and smaller on the ground - until it was too far into the distance to see.

It was clear the games had officially begun, and the tributes were winning.

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#coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coryo snow #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger game fic #ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader

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whispereons · 8 months

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Oracle!Reader Part 14

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 13, Part 15

Warning as usual. There is blood and gore in this chapter!

Staring up at the Archon parading around in human form, you lick your lips and note how even those minor injuries were healed. Your body aches with phantom pain, some wounds healed too rapidly.

"I don't mind answering some questions, can I get your name first?"

A small smile plays at his lips as his hand is held out in front of you. "My name is Zhongli, I'm the Funeral Parlors consultant. It would be a pleasure to hear yours, outlander."

So he is aware of your origin, well at least partly aware. If he's not going to pull any punches then why should you? Besides if it all goes wrong, you can blame it on the bloodloss that you're still recovering from.

"I'm Y/N, and you're correct that I do not originate from this world. You must not be a normal person either, in fact you look identical to this statue. This one portrays Morax the Geo Archon, but I'm sure you know that, Rex Lapis."

Getting a good look at the statue from your proximity, it was obvious that Zhongli was Morax. You could make the excuse of it being game logic on why no one makes the connection, but that wouldn't work anymore. Maybe the statues are imbued with power that prevents anyone from this world to recognize the similarities?

"So it seems you are more knowledgeable than the traveler was when they arrived here. I should have known considering how the Electro and Geo particles surround you with zeal. Perhaps Teyvat is charmed by the features you share with the Holy One."

His step forward and angled head to look you in the eyes have you staring at glowing amber hues. The red eyeliner and outlined iris make it uncomfortably clear how intensely he's examining you.

"The curve of your lips, a stature so familiar, you resemble the creator so much. Teyvat must be bewitched and awed by an individual so alike as you. If only I could see your face in it's full visage, only then would I know for sure..."

Anyone would feel flattered or embarrassed with how seriously Zhongli studies you, but dread is the only thing you feel. You know that behind those honey-coated words is a trap just waiting for you to spring.

Too bad for him; the last thing you plan to be is predictable.

"My, my what a compliment! A devout and faithful follower like yourself is comparing me to the creator? You should pray for forgiveness to the merciful creator. I'm a servant for them, just in a different league than you. My connection with them is strong enough that Teyvat graces me with qualities alike yet inferior to the Everlasting One."

Zhongli returned to his perfect posture at your words, the flash of envy couldn't hide. "Oh?" Narrowed eyes and a lofty tone that encourages you to smile wider. "And what position could an outsider like you hold?"

"Well, as an Oracle of course! Really, just how dumb are you? An outlander that is incredibly knowledgeable of the Creator? It's painfully obvious." There's no reaction to your test insults, which is fine that wasn't the last you had in store.

"I'm from the world that the Creator is recuperating in. It's due to that, that I can speak to them much more freely than everyone here. Even Teyvat pales in comparison. That's why Teyvat is so attached to me, my aura is overwhelmed by the creators."

Honestly, you had Chongyun to thank for that one. You weren't sure how you were supposed to explain the whole Teyvat clinging to you without sounding repetitive. But if Zhongli was that easily fooled, he wouldn't be one of the victors of the Archon war.

"Then enlighten me on why the glorious creator would need an Oracle of your caliber to spread their word. Surely that's the least you can do." He's fully dropped that faux-polite tone in contrast to the technically proper speech.

"Gladly! It's become common knowledge that the elemental monsters and animals have started to act strangely. Add in the leylines that change from out of control to perfectly calm in a matter of minutes or weeks. These are all signs of the Creator's upcoming appearance! They need to be sure of who in this vast land they can properly trust."

"That still doesn't explain why you in particular were chosen. A wily and fresh child like you wouldn't do the best job." Hard like stone, Zhongli refused to even blink at your words. A god like himself would never falter after thousands of years spent perfecting his worship.

But did he really have to insult you at the same time?

"So you refuse to believe it because of my supposed inability to properly carry out any duties assigned to me? You don't even know all that I had done to arrive here! Surely you should know just how rough the waters were..."

The hand that covers your mouth does a poor job of covering the sly smile. Zhongli stares at you in silence, the wind swaying around the floating chunk of rock that you both stand on.

"Just what are you trying to imply?" His voice is as soft as a whisper but cutting like the sharpest steel.

"Why explain it when I can show it?" Silently rejoicing at such a convenient set up, you peer into your bag and grab the item you've been saving.

Shimmering brightly in the harsh glares of the sun is Beisht's scale, still in pristine condition despite your perilous journey since that day you got it from the sea-leviathan.

It feels like ages ago. Just how much time has passed since you arrived on Teyvat? How much more time will you spend in situations like this? Weeks? Months? YEARS?

The existential dread is quickly pushed away by your beaming smile at Zhongli's reaction to the singular item. The rocky exterior finally breaks at the proof of your 'abilities'. His lips part at the bright teal color and he blinks incredulously at it.

Really, how could you pass up the chance to rub it in?

"Surely a human of my caliber would be capable of this much. I mean, a perfectly intact scale from a leviathan that managed to avoid the whole Qixing that isn't dyed in blood? Child's play for a servant specifically chosen by the Creator. I never doubted the creators' choices!"

Holding the scale in front of you, you smirk at the man with as much snark as you hold in your heart. "The same can't be said for you, Mr. 'That still doesn't explain why you in particular were chosen.' Because the Creator is capable of choosing anyone they want, for whatever reason they desire."

Silence envelopes the area as you stare at him, a beat passes with no movement until a gruff chuckle leaves him.

"The more you speak, the closer I come to a conclusion." Recovering quickly, Zhongli's gloved hand rises to tap his mouth contemplatively. "You're either something far worse than I've seen in a long time, or a hope for the Creator's return."

That white outline around his iris seems to spin with the malicious joy that he refuses to show. It's like his body screams that he'll either enjoy your presence or your destruction. Nerves and anxiety grip your heart but ignoring it has always worked better for you.

"Maybe I can say the same thing about you considering your past, but I see you still aren't convinced. And how could I ever let you, one of the longest standing worshippers, have doubts about me? So tell me, were Beisht and her husband devout or sacrilegious beings?"

The answer he'll say is obvious, not only because you hold such a confident stance showing that you know the answer but because of Zhongli himself. A noble dragon that willingly bows to someone would feel ashamed at the thought of resorting to lying to boost his own pride.

Quite ironic how you hold so much trust in his answer due to the acolytes' faith in the creator. The same faith that led you to this position, and the same thing that'll keep you from ever exposing the truth of your identity. A constant force preventing them from meeting their 'beloved' creator.

"You met Beisht in the flesh, there's no doubt that she is solemn and serious in her worship. The same can be said for Osial, it was one of the few things I could agree with the leviathan. Even still, I'm the superior believer. After all, I'm the one who is left after all this time."

"Yet I met Beisht before you."

The scoff and know-it-all tone he used pricked at your nerves long enough to cause an annoyed response to slip out. Unfortunately, that seems to be what Zhongli was baiting for as he laughs, the low sound making the rock platform tremble.

"That's if you're even an Oracle. You may be from that world and even heard about Teyvat from the Creator, but for all I know, you could have been banished here for us acolytes to execute. Whether it be for avenging the Creator or entertaining them."

Damn, it was almost scary how fast he turned the situation around. But how could you falter now? Getting tongue-tied at such a crucial moment would be a pathetic way to lose your life.

"And what will you do if I truly am an Oracle? When the creator's return is delayed months, years or even decades due to your rash actions, what will you tell the creator when confronted with the consequences of your own actions?"

"Then you should work hard enough to prove to skeptics like myself. To put blind faith in whatever is dubbed the creator's is a fool's belief. Temptation and sin ravage Teyvat from the long drought of the Creator's presence."

For a split second, sorrow clouded his eyes. He's hiding something. It’s important and you can feel it in your soul. The only thing that really stains his and Venti's reputation is their war with Khaenri'ah. It must be connected to that.

But it's too early to try digging in for information on that. He doesn't even believe you to be the Oracle, how could you possibly get that out of him? What if he's under a contract and must stay silent on the matter?

Lost in his memories, Zhongli doesn't realize how your face pinches in frustration. You'll have to get his approval as the Oracle before you can even-

Oh.

Oh, why didn't you realize this before?

A grin spreads across your face as you circle in on the heart of the problem and the perfect way to fix it.

It's not that Zhongli doesn't believe you to be the creator's Oracle, he just doesn't want to believe it! He's envious: envious of why a random outlander like you got such a nice position in comparison to him who probably spent most of his life molding himself to the creators standards.

All that's left is to reel him in and you know the perfect way how.

"Prove myself? I've done plenty to prove myself, but what about you?" Mockingly, you tilt your head as your empty gaze peers into Zhongli's eyes, digging deep into him. He focuses back on the conversation at your shift in tone.

"If anyone should have to prove themselves, it should be you." This time it's you who takes the bold step forward. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we? And try to keep in that temper too so that I can finish my words. A dragon your age should know such simple things."

"As Morax you were quite powerful, though a brute to be completely honest. Still, you knew your limits well and paired up with the Lord of Dust before the Archon War, who served as the 'brain'. Tell me, just how did it feel when you found her as nothing more than a statue that day?"

Your words have a strong effect on the imposing man, his fist trembling at the mention of such a beloved god, one whose death still pains him. Paying no mind to his pain you ask the monumental question.

"Just how much resentment do you hold against the Creator for her death?"

A hand slams you against the Statue hard enough to bruise your skin. It doesn't squeeze around your throat but there's no need to as the Geo begins to petrify your legs, locking you in place. The Statue is in a constant state of healing in defense to the bruises on your neck.

"Just what are you trying to imply by saying that?" Cold and apathetic is the voice that flows from the stoic man. It's what you would imagine Morax would sound like before Guizhong taught him how to care for humans.

"C'mon, that's the second time you've asked me that. Don't make me speak the obvious-" A shuddering gasp leaves you as he tightens his grip. But it's gone just as fast; a flock of birds tackle Zhongli.

You can only watch in shock as what was only 4 to 5 birds grow to become at least 15 birds of all kinds attacking him. The throbbing of your neck being healed as the Geo instantly releases you is overshadowed by Zhongli swatting at the birds as he takes continuous steps back.

But that's all it took for Zhongli to fall off the edge as the birds flew away cawing happily. Standing and staring at the spot where Zhongli fell off in shock, you begin to chuckle. It grows to a giggle before you're laughing hysterically as you buckle to the ground. Loud peels of laughter ring around the area as you hold your stomach from the ache of laughing so much.

To think Teyvat took the initiative to help you out for once. Why couldn't it do it sooner? Was it only after gaining some power from activating a new nations statue of the seven that it could? You couldn't focus on the question anymore as the look on Zhongli's face when he fell came to mind again.

The sight of his eyes blown wide and a split second of pure panic sent you straight back into a fit of laughter. The ground far below you shakes as a Geo pillar constructs a bridge high enough to reach the stone you sat on.

The sound of footsteps make you open your eyes and giggle at the sight of a disheveled and annoyed Zhongli. Annoyed is still an improvement compared to his enraged state earlier. With giggles slipping out, you stand back up and laugh louder at his appearance in full view.

His hair was pulled out of his rattail with his earrings nowhere to be seen. Bits and pieces of the weaker cloth of his suit were missing, giving him a poor look that didn't match his flawless posture. The red marks and light cuts only added to the joy you feel at his expense.

"Are you finished laughing, Y/N?"

"For now at least. I would suggest buying a new set of clothes but I don't think you have the mora for it!" Zhongli only lets out a long-suffering sigh as you crack up again.

You would be scolding yourself for not taking the chance to escape while he was away but it was better this way. You didn't need the information about Khaenri'ah, it was nice to know but the information wouldn't help you live.

The main reason you stayed was because running away would prove Zhongli right to be suspicious about you. It would let him know that you're scared and have something to hide. Plus, that would mean having to escape Liyue the same way you did Ei, just in a worse situation.

That's not something you want to repeat.

"Alright I'm done laughing." You say while wiping off the budding tears from the corner of your eyes. Zhongli sends you a look that screams that he doesn't believe you but you shrug it off.

"Really, that question was more of a test if you will. My main job is simply to see who the Creator can trust. Your relationship with the Creator beyond that is between you and them."

The calm and peaceful tone you use is such a contrast to the one you used earlier that Zhongli is clearly apprehensive. Paying it no mind you continue to speak.

"If you truly want a reason to at least try and believe me to be the oracle even if you don't fully believe me, then I'll give you one. I'm sure you still have the stone dumbbell from Guizhong that you've never been able to open. I know how to open it."

Those last words have Zhongli staring at you intensely as you gaze off into the distance. The Dragon-Queller tree is visible through the fog with its glowing blue branches and yellow leaves.

"How?" He breathes out, scared to trust but scared to lose this opportunity too.

"It requires a naturally grown glaze lily cultivated by the Creator. That's because it requires a 'pure' glaze lily and the only one who can grow such a thing at this day and age is the Creator. All the natural glaze lilies have died after all."

Zhongli's shoulders slump at your words. It seems he started to let his guard down after he fell off. He must no longer view you as a threat or, at most, an annoyance. That's okay with you, underestimation is the most useful viewpoint they could have for you.

"Should I even make an attempt to ask you why it can only be unlocked with that? You're only telling me this as a last resort to keep you alive, correct? Even if I told you that I would keep you alive without that information, you wouldn't believe me. As childish as you may be, foolishness does not seem to be a quality you hold."

"That may be true, but if you really want an answer to that first question then I'll tell you." You look over to lock eyes with him and smile. It conceals every sneaky and vicious thought you hold. "I have no clue. The Creator instructed me to use it as a last resort, if you want that answer then try praying. Perhaps you'll get an answer."

You would like to know the answer to the stone dumbbell too. After all, you only made up the solution! Seeing as Zhongli spent all these years after Guizhong's death, failing to unlock it, it's a good bet that it'll never open.

It's silent as you both get lost in your own thoughts. Unlike before it wasn't tense, it was more comparable to the silence you would spend alone in your apartment. The nights you would only be accompanied by the thoughts of the 'what-if' situations. Thoughts that would only stay thoughts just as the past would be just that, the past.

Wanderer learned that the hard way too. You wouldn't let yourself hold so many regrets before your inevitable death. Even in Liyue you weren't truly safe, so wouldn't it be best to speak to Zhongli while you still could?

"I have questions about Khaenri'ah… Well, the better way to put it is that the Creator has questions about them. It's one of the few things that they mourn the most. A whole nation devoted to worshiping solely the creator, destroyed by the Archons that swore their life and loyalty to the creator. So will you explain it to me?"

His eyes fill with the same sorrow you saw in him earlier. It seems you were right in guessing that his line on blindly trusting things labeled with the creator was connected to Khaenri'ah.

"I have spent all my years after that day asking for forgiveness, for some way to atone. It was one of the few contracts that I did not properly balance in equivalent exchange. I regret signing it, not for myself but for my beloved God."

"So it's a no."

"It's an agreement not to speak of it."

"Then don't speak about it." Zhongli seeds you a questioning glance as you mischievously smile at him. "Just listen to my words and don't look away. I'm quite sure nodding and shaking your head doesn't count as breaking your silence."

A huff of amusement leaves him at your solution. His eyes close with his lips curling into a small smile. He nods his head in acceptance, not having the drive to poke holes into your stubbornness.

You were quite confident in the conclusions you've drawn so far. Genshin Impact was nearly the sole reason you were living back on Earth. Family and friends were nonexistent, you had given up hope on making any new connections as well. The only thing you did when you weren't home was work and your work made you be everything but yourself. So combining everything you know from the game with everything of the cult that you've learned thus far shouldn't be too hard.

"When the Archon War broke out, I'm sure most of you were merely looking to keep your people and nation alive. The original design of having the gods powered solely on their people's worship paled in comparison to Celestia's offer of power by obtaining a spot in a group of seven. At the end, you all had a choice. Accept your spot by accepting a Gnosis, or go against them similar to how the Dragon King once did."

Zhongli perks up at the mention of the Dragon King. Not many people know about the original Dragon King. Most people assume it's Azhdaha when in reality, the original was a far greater dragon.

"You all must have been quite against it. The only God you would all bow under would be the Creator who had left before those events to sleep in my world, yet Celestia probably whispered to you all that it was allowed on Teyvat because it was approved by the Creator. That the Gnosis was a reward for all your hard work and as Celestia was the first descender, all of you accepted it.”

The way he begins to stare at you is invasive, like he's just dying to jump you to get every bit of knowledge you hold on the topic. He's starting to suspect you.

"Yet when Khaenri'ah was revealed to exist years afterwards, everything was thrown into confusion. I'm sure you and the other Archons were fine with their presence as Khaenri'ah worshiped the Creator, but was Celestia?"

A sly smile creeps upon your face at the memory of when it was revealed that Khaenri'ah wasn't the first civilization to be turned into hilichurls. No one liked Celestia so you had no problem pinning almost all the blame onto it.

"I'm sure they were enraged, especially as Khaenri'ah grew more and more bold with their inventions. Gold in particular was quite dangerous seeing as she not only created life but also Durin and the Golden Wolflord. And even that was unintentional!"

You laugh cheerfully as Zhongli chuckles in surprise at your words. Had you successfully deterred him? Probably not, but he hasn't stopped you so you'll keep going till the end.

"Celestia ordered you all to aid them in destroying Khaenri'ah but you all refused. How could any of you harm a nation so devoted to the creator even if they refused to worship Celestia or the Seven? But that Gnosis you all accepted comes with a price. A price that serves as leverage and a control device."

The thoughts of what Beisht told you on how Celestia had caused them to forget the original way of worship resurfaced. Celestia was just too suspicious for that to be the only thing they had done. It would take a lot more than that to force the Archons to listen to them.

"That Gnosis was like a drug. It gave you all so much power, tasting and making you feel like you're on top of the world! Just for it to come crashing down when the unpleasant side effects hit you. It corrupted you all like poison forcing you to wage war against Khaenri'ah. My best bet is that it was like mind control. What do you say?"

He looks at you with a blank expression, as if trying to see the secrets you hid in your soul through your eyes. But there's no response from him, not even the occasional nods that he was giving before.

"Well if it was mind control, perhaps it made you believe that Khaenri'ah had plans to overrule the Creator and create their own human god. Or maybe it made them out to be traitors to the creator. Perhaps both? That doesn't really matter, what does matter is that only after the war was in full throttle were you all brought back to your senses."

You didn't have any proof of that last part, it just seemed like something Celestia would do. Not only to prove their superiority but also force the Archons to put their best effort in defeating the people of Khaenri'ah to save their nations.

"After the war ended, you all wanted to get rid of it but Celestia wouldn't allow such a thing. Even if you most likely tried to find some loophole, Celestia doesn't play nice. It would make sense if they threatened to give a punishment similar to what they had done to Khaenri'ah. So long as none of you destroy or throw it away, they'll leave you all be,”

Venti was a god, no matter what fans said, there was no way he would lose to Signora. It made more sense if that was his way of 'handing' it over to the Tsaritsa. There was also Nahida who threatened to break her Gnosis to one-up Dottore. That was always funny, you would kill to have witnessed that in person.

"Of course none of you would actually use it or even desire it in your vicinity. Everyone wins when the Tsaritsa uses her various methods to acquire the gnosis'. And thanks to the traveler appearing during that time, Celestia was probably too busy freaking out over that to pay too much attention. For a while at least."

Finally looking back to Zhongli, you smiled proudly. "I must be pretty close right? At no point did you laugh at me like you did with Alice so I'll take that as a good sign. And even if I'm wrong, everything will be solved when the Creator descends."

Stretching to loosen the tension in your back, you applaud yourself for the brilliant thinking. It's not like anyone can actually fake gold blood for long when even hair dye didn't exist yet. You're basically leaving all these loose ends to the you that would be believed to be the Creator. Which is never going to happen!

"Would the Creator scorn me for asking you once again if you're truly an oracle?"

"I'm sure the glorious creator would be fully justified in doing so, but I'll scorn you in their stead.. And don't get it twisted, it's not because of your feelings concerning Guizhong's death. It's how you, by your own negligence, offended the Creator!"

An utterly baffled expression paints his face at your accusation. Unrelenting, you point your finger at him with a serious face that you haven't shown him till now.

"Did you really believe that the creator wouldn't realize? Just how little you changed from that brute of a dragon that saw humans as plentiful yet insignificant as dust? To think that you believed yourself to be comparable to the primordial dragons."

Zhongli stiffens at the mention of the primordial dragons. After all he is the prime of the Adepti who's exuvia is a dragon, not a primordial dragon. Wouldn't it be fun if he held some sense of inferiority when compared to the primordial ones?

Zhongli sits on the ledge of the rock with his elbows on his legs and his hands covering his face. It was time. He would question just what you were talking about and you'll explain the elemental sacrificing that he forgot. That'll be the end and he'll have no choice but to support you!

Smiling knowingly you approach him and lean down to see behind the shadow casting over his eyes. Your eyes twinkle victoriously as his breath leaves a cloud from the crisp air.

"I should have known that the creator would not forgive me for failing to arrive on time."

What?

"How could I have been beaten to that shooting star by that astrologist? No matter who may have been her master, I failed to arrive on time."

Zhongli sulks there as he continues rambling to himself on 'missing' the shooting star due to his old age. Was he seriously talking about how you lost him the first time to Mona?!

Memories come back of you using the last of your wishes on his banner and being greeted with Mona instead. The first 50/50 you lost and was forced to use nearly all your primogems to get him. A fact that you never let Zhongli forget through your adventures.

Just what would he do if he knew how you always switched to a different character whenever his idle starts to play? Would he sew his lips together in repentance? That must be the difference between a true believer and a fake believer...

Holding back a sigh you begin brainstorming on how you were supposed to bring the conversation back to the sacrificing. Zhongli is too lost in his own head as he begins to continuously blame himself for any mistake he could have made.

"Being unable to answer the travelers' questions must have worsened their view on me too."

"That and how you were willing to let Liyue flood if they couldn't defeat Osial."

"Human life may be precious but they're as numerous as the dust that make up stone. I would rebuild Liyue for the rest of this long life until I cultivate a nation that I could humbly present the creator with."

"Then shouldn't the creator just grind you down and raise a different Adepti to their exact liking? You should work hard to be exactly what they desire to be truly loved."

"Are you saying that the Creator loathes me?" He finally looks away from the sea of clouds to stare at you. Sparing him a glance, you listen to him grow more panicked by your silence.

"Do they wish to see me crumble and be reabsorbed into the earth for my mistakes, for my sins? Was it the way I mechanically went through the motions of worship for the few years after Guizhong's death? Or does my benevolent god crave me and my nation to fall for aiding in the destruction of Kh-?"

Abruptly Zhongli grasps at his chest where his heart lays as he coughs. More out of politeness than concern you rub his back as fluid flies from his lips to his closed fist.

The thick inky plum colored fluid stained his fist with droplets of crimson swirling within it. His coughing fit slows to a halt as his hand slowly releases the clothing over his heart. Harsh breathing and a shallow pained groan is all that can be heard as he cleans himself up.

“Pardon me-”

“Was that a warning from Celestia or a side effect if you get too close to speaking?"

"The implication is the same no matter what it may be from." He whispers as you begin to move back to return his personal space. Yet his now ungloved hand is what wraps around your grass stained sleeve.

"Now answer my question." Determination and a barely concealed unruly emotion simmer beneath his composed surface as he asks. "As an oracle, tell me what I have to do to earn their forgiveness. What must I reap to begin repenting for the sins I sowed?"

Eyes widening at the sight of the disheveled man, you stare at him quietly. The messy hair, cut up clothing and grip tight enough to keep you still all while being careful not to bruise.

Hook, line and sinker.

"Is that a question for me to answer? Am I the god that you wronged? If you wish to communicate with the creator yourself, then there is a way. A method to begin regaining the pebbles that make up the mountain of trust you once shared with them."

You grab the arm that connects to his hand wrapped around your own and pull him up. He obeys the silent command and stands up, his gaze never faltering from your form. Silent and towering like the mountains he's created, he simply listens.

"Celestia has hidden more from you than you originally thought. But I'm sure you already know that. Offer yourself to the merciful creator and they'll surely hear your pleas of forgiveness. Whether they forgive you or not is up to them."

Releasing your hold on him, you turn to survey the area. Now where could you have him perform the sacrifice? His free hand comes to rest on your shoulder for your attention.

"What must I offer of myself? My blood? My body? If need be, I'll even be willing to offer my life. My life is worthless without them. I'm nothing more than a grain of mineral if not for them."

"There's so many things you can offer, but if you want to make the most impact, then you'll offer up your body parts. Your life may be precious but just how much longer do you have left?"

"Then will the private temple I have built for them work? We can head there immediately." He points south to the sole unnamed mountain in Minlin. You vividly remember unlocking the teleport waypoint there.

"The only way I'll know is when I see the interior. I'll meet you there Zhongli!"

Pulling yourself away from his grasp, you close your eyes and calmly imagine what the scenery around the waypoint looks like. The rocky feel of the floating stone changes to a lush green beneath your feet. Opening your eyes you're greeted with a valley of viridescent brustles with degraded stone ruins at the edges.

"To think that the Creator even allowed you access to the waypoints. They must treasure you greatly." He appears at your side in a matter of minutes. His tone has a hint of longing and bitterness.

It's sweet like the flavor of a childhood candy that you would sneak behind your parents backs. Almost sweet enough to make up for the starvation you would face later on as punishment.

"Instead of focusing on that, why don't you show me that private temple you created? As the Geo Archon, I hold high expectations for you."

"This temple is the one I created for me. If you want the glamorous shrine built for the mass and appearance then you're better off viewing the public one that the Qixing now control."

He walks down the hill until the grass is tall enough to cover his calves. You follow behind him and stare blankly at the plain that is covered with a healthy amount of tall marigolds. Just as you're about to repeat the question, the earth begins to rumble.

It starts with just one stone rising from the ground, until it multiplies into a roof like structure. You watch in awe as a temple surges out of the mountain with the slightest bits of dirt falling off it.

Stone of high quality and clearly careful upkeep shines with small cracks from the passage of time. Gold, silver, and bronze layer the nooks and crannies of the pillars that keep a roof over the doorway.

Marveling at it, you follow Zhongli into the temple... He couldn't kill you in it, right? Surely you could still teleport even if he locked you in it… Teleporting without using the map might not work due to the focus and effort it required, but doing it with the map has never failed you yet.

The inside was even more impressive; statues of all kinds surrounded the hallway. It was you, always you, just in different poses, clothing and materials. From thin robes crafted entirely from Cor Lapis, to suits made of Noctilucous Jade.

Arriving at what seemed to be the main room, you're greeted with a huge statue comparable to the public one in Inazuma's plaza. Sunlight bathed your statue from the skylight above it.

Your body was made of Cor Lapis decorated in an Archon-like robe made from Noctilucous Jade. A fresh Glaze Lily sat in your palm as Silk Flowers adorned your head in a crown like structure. You sat on a blue stone throne that seemed to grow brighter as you approached it. The sleek yet dense mineral looked like the magical crystal chunks you would give to the blacksmiths.

"Be careful to not venture too close to that one, the elemental energy may leave it to join you." Zhongli warns as he steps into the middle of the room. Smiling casually to hide your amazement, you head back to him.

"What an impressive statue, the Creator is feeling quite pleased with the display but still wishes to see your true remorse." Digging into your bag, you brought out the ceremonial knife and the handbook you took notes on.

"Go get the softest cloth and lay it on the ground. This ritual is simple, you'll cut off whatever part of your body you wish to offer, pray, and wait for a response. If 10 to 20 minutes pass with no response, then you can leave it at that or offer more in hopes of a response."

Closing the book and shoving it back into your bag you offer the knife to Zhongli. He looks up from where he laid the gilded gold fabric to stare at the knife before letting out a drawl laugh.

"That knife will do little to my scales, Y/N. A ceremonial item is to be bathed in liquid gold to be used so I have more than enough weapons that can actually cut my skin."

Scoffing, you stuff the knife back in as he leaves and returns with a variety of weapons. The largest was an ax that smelled faintly of blood. Was it used to sacrifice someone not too long ago? The thought makes you uncomfortable, yet you're no longer alarmed at the thought.

My, have you changed.

You move to stand away from the center closer to the exit. Zhongli's bare hand turns to a pattern of black and amber hues. Shedding his thick coat, his flexed muscles in draconic form are left in full view.

If you were back on Earth, you would have killed to view this. An Archon’s skin was something the majority of the players wished for, for quite a while. Even now, you would love to see his true Archon form, but the thought of actually living was far more tantalizing.

Rolling up his sleeves, he chooses a sword and examines it carefully. Without fear he raises it high and slices downwards cutting his hand off cleanly. The ruby liquid sprays onto the floor as the droplets drip off his sword and dismembered limb simultaneously.

It doesn't matter how many times you witness or smell blood, it still disgusts you. The only blood you truly cherished in shedding was the one that left that man's body when you stabbed him in that cold alleyway.

His hand lands onto the expensive textile with a wet thud as the ivory bone sticks out. Zhongli lays the sword down gently resisting the urge to groan in pain. Gritting his teeth he returned his attention and gaze back to you. You, who stayed in perfect position ahead of him, clad in gems and minerals carved by his own hand.

Closing his eyes, his lips followed the adored pass time of praying with intensity. Too lost in his regret, joy, and infatuation his words slipped out clear like the perfectly carved jewels he’s crafted for you.

"My god, my god. For I have sinned against you so. The mistakes I cannot fix or change, I pray for your forgiveness." Your unmoving, unchangeable eyes stared at him with an expression so familiar to him, one who worshiped you in this temple for centuries.

"From allowing myself to be tricked, to the lack of devotion I felt to you in Guizhong's death and finally with how I treated a servant of yours with disdain. Envious, I am envious to an extent that I shouldn't hold to my righteous god like you. Even now I still haven't broken the habit of referring to you as 'my' god."

Once again, just like the first time, Teyvat seems to overwhelm you with his feelings. You stare at his back as his lips murmur the words of devotion without an end in sight. Silently, you accept his offering, this first one was only to put the last nail in the coffin of you being an oracle.

The sky darkens as Zhongli's hand crumbles into a pile of primogems that dissolve into the air. Blue and purple stars dance across the sky as a lone gold star makes its way closer.

You didn't plan to always accept his offerings. After all you did lose a 50/50 to him and was forced to put up with his paranoid possessiveness in regards to your creator self. Shouldn't you make him lose a few times to even the score?

The gold star shines brighter and bigger as Zhongli gazes at it with a smile purer than anything he's ever felt since his creation at your hands. It flies through the window enveloping him and the whole room with a beaming light.

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

When his eyes open, the skylight shows the sunny sky but he can already feel his connection to you stronger. The brilliance you bore shines beautifully in him like a star he wished to keep hidden for only him to see.

It worked, it worked! There is no need for him to be wary or envious of you for claiming to be so close to the creator anymore. In fact, you were a sign specifically designed for someone like him. A sign that the creator had not grown complacent in simply watching Teyvat, you were now showing interest in coming back soon. And through you, he can find out details about the creator that were kept secret all these millennia.

A wide and joyful grin is bared with obsession tangling within it. He turns his head to where you stood and his smile drops abruptly when all he's greeted with is an empty spot.

He built this temple for him and the creator to enjoy in privacy due to his possessive nature born from his dragon lineage, yet the sight of Y/N who up and vanished after fulfilling their duty struck his core like the abyssal gunk that used to constantly corrupt his body.

You may have left, you may think that he wouldn't treat you, a fellow devoted servant well due to his earlier behavior. And he understands that, he truly does but that simply means he has to rectify his mistake before it's too late. You were a mere human while him, a god.

Finding you before any terrible consequences from his mistakes won't take too long.

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

Unaware of the dragon's changing tune, you eye the Dragon-Queller tree from outside the temple with interest. After all the work you've done thus far, indulging yourself with a nice close up of the magnificent landmark would be a good treat for yourself.

This one took a while and it was edited by the same jerk. I really hope all the work was worth it and that the next part can be done faster. But as my college is starting this early Sep, it might be even longer. Genshin's lore is a hot mess so I tried my best to keep it simple while touching on the important parts. All the lore I put in is almost completely accurate. If you don't include the sagau parts. If your name is italic then that means I couldn't tag you. I manually put everyone so hopefully this fixes the notifications problems. Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @millienolife, @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0

#whisp's amateur work #genshin impact #genshin sagau #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #yandere sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau oracle au #genshin cult au #sagau cult au #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere zhongli #sagau #yandere morax #yandere rex lapis

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zazter-den · 7 months

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Foul-Mouthed Frit | Stained Glass Circumstances Ch. 1

Series: Snippet #1, Snippet #2, Current

Synopsis- All stained glass begins as frit, but you're not as frit of the warrior in front of you as you probably should be.(Main Scene: Bakugou, Aftercare: Kirishima).

Warnings- Coerced NonCon, Oral Knotting, CumVom, Choking, Clothes Tearing, Degradation, Overstim, Org Denial, Slap(giving), Forced Bond, King/Consort Dynamic, Alt A/B/O, Yandere Bakugou.

Tags- Fantasy AU, BarbarianKing!Bakugou, Dragon!Kirishima, KingConsort!Reader, Black Haired Reader, Isekai, Creampie, Chin Grab, Excessive Seed, Aftercare.

Word Count- 7700, Chapter 1

Your heart thumped against your ribs, unease and curiosity battling it out, as you stood before the imposing blond warrior. On a good day, you couldn't help but feel out of place in the simple hand-me-down dress, a one of few mercies you received from the cold villagers when you arrived. Standing here in front of the decorated barbarian within the confines of the grandiose war tent, you felt dressed in little more than rags. Was this man here to finish the villager's sad attempt at uprising? Surely non-lethal injuries to a handful of soldiers, even if severe, didn't warrant a general's (or whoever's) presence.

Why am I here? I wasn't even involved.

The bodice of the scratchy dress felt nearly too tight to breathe, a physical pressure to match the growing weight of dread settling in your bones. It had been a month since your watery arrival to this world, but it hadn't taken long to miss your modern clothes, modern stressors, and the familiarity of home. A pang of longing shot through you like a static shock, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the intimidating figure ahead.

A shiver ran down your spine as you met the blond's piercing blood red gaze. His throne, made from the bones of fallen beasts long dead and a patterned patchwork of leather, only amplified the imposing aura surrounding him. With each passing moment, you couldn't help but feel like a small, insignificant creature in the presence of a predator.

"Pint-sized for a dragon, aren't ya?" the barbarian growled, his gruff voice boomed in the tense silence, tone heavy with amused disdain. A predatory smirk adorned his face, highlighting his intimidating yet undeniably attractive features. "You're quite the fuckin' anomaly."

Your eyes widened at his words, and for a moment you forgot your unease. You had become so used to the weight by this point that you honestly almost forgot. A hand instinctively went to touch the base of the draconic crystal horns that jutted back from your hairline, a bizzarre feature you had woken to on the lake shore, a side effect of the magic that had forced your entry to this unfamiliar world.

All of the lakeside villagers were human, but you had learned enough about this world's inhabitants to know that that you weren't a true dragon like the ones the citizens of this realm were familiar with—those with wings, a tail, and true dragon features. You are, at your core, still human, and really the horns were the only evidence to suggest otherwise. The asshole wasn't entirely wrong in calling you a mystery.

"Can tell you're no real dragon, some sorta bastard maybe" he remarked, rumbly voice smug. "Though I admit, those crystal horns of yours are intriguing 'nough. You'll pass as an addition to my collection."

You blinked once, twice, as you struggled for a mere second to process the words coming out of the pompous man's mouth before time seemed to resume again.

Should you have been scared? Probably.

But you weren't.

Your eyes narrowed to near slits with incredulity as you peered up at him. White hot anger filled your veins, fear of the undoubtedly dangerous strange warrior forgotten. Being a newcomer to the realm, you couldn't quite comprehend the gravity of the situation in standing before the man in front of you. Being an outsider to the village and their rebellion, also meant you weren't aware yet just how low cowards will sink to save their own skin.

" 'Collection'? " You repeated, scoffing loudly at his arrogance. The gall of him had your nerves shot and common sense short circuiting. All pretenses of appearing as a polite peasant were now firmly out the window, all bets were off. After a month of biting your tongue to rude villagers as you struggled to adjust to your new life, it felt amazing to spit exactly what you were thinking. "Who the fuck do you think you are, blondie?”

The fair haired barbarian's grin only widened at your boldness, relishing the rare occurance. It wasn't often someone had a big enough death wish to challenge him face to face.

"O, sweetheart, not just any 'blondie'," he sneered, weighing the weight his words had on you. "I'm yer fuckin' king." Enjoying the way shock washed over your face, anger clearly forgotten, overshadowed by the realization that you were standing before the most dangerous man in the kingdom.

King Bakugou's amusement was evident as he leaned forward in his seat, his eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction at your dumbstruck face. "D'ya wanna know why you're standin' in front of me?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension. "They offered ya to me, little anomaly," the barbaric royal continued, the corners of his lips curling into a cruel smile. "A barter for their miserable lives after a pitiful 'scuse of a rebellion."

You were shocked, your eyes meeting his with furious disbelief. "So, people I barely know, GAVE me to you to spare themselves?" your words were laced with anger and a sense of betrayal, unable to comprehend the depths of their craven desperation. Sure, they were cold to strangers, but to sacrifice you for their own lives wasn't something you had thought was even a possibility. Had it really been so foolish to want to believe they were finally warming up to you?

The barbarian king's expression hardened as he replied, his voice laced with a sharp edge. "Ya should feel honored," he snapped, his blood red eyes narrowing. Rising from his intimidating throne of giant bone and beast hide, he closed the distance between them with a purposeful stride. The sound of his heavy boots thudded against the packed ground within the war tent until he loomed over you.

“I rarely take consorts,” King Bakugou's hand shot out and firmly grasped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his piercing gaze. His touch was harsh, a firm reminder of the physical might that Bakugou wielded when he so chose. Your heart pounding in your chest as his fingernails dug into your jawline. Leaning in close, his face mere inches away from yours, his voice dropped to a low, dangerous rumble as he continued speaking. “especially not runt freaks like you." The disdain in the cold blooded king's tone sent a chill down your spine.

Your heart dropped, The weight of the revelation pressed heavy against your chest. Mind racing with anger and betrayal as you grappled with the harsh reality of your situation. You had only been in this unfamiliar realm for barely a few weeks and now you stood before the formidable barbarian king, a man who held the power of life and death over countless warriors and civilians alike.

It didn't take years of education, or really much common sense, to know the dangerous consequences of defying a medieval tyrant. You knew you had to keep your anger in check, to try to bite your tongue and submit. At least for now.

Your fate was sealed the moment you stepped into that fucking tent, and survival was now officially the priority.

King Bakugou's sadistic enjoyment of the situation was plain as he ruthlessly analyzed your appearance, his gaze lingering on the translucent crystal horns with an almost dismissive glance. "Yer horns are clear, nothin' special," he remarked, his voice dripping with annoyance. It was clear that your unique crystalline features held little significance in his opinion. However, as his eyes roamed down your body, a more sinister gleam sparked within them.

"Body, on the other hand, is fine enough for a concubine," the blond added with a twisted smirk, his grip on your chin tightening slightly. The shift of the dress' neckline sent a shiver down your spine, baring your shoulder to his inspection. Your heart beat faster as King Bakugou's piercing eyes bore into you, his actions invasive and dehumanizing. Your throat constricted in response to the humiliating position you found yourself in. Even having to resist the urge to pull your chin away from his grasp, knowing that defiance would only lead to suffering of some variety.

His eyes swept over your neck and shoulder, searching for any sign of a scar, any indication that you already belonged to another. You kept your gaze to the side, unnerved by the intensity of his bloody stare, a shiver rippled down your spine as his touch almost seemed to burn your skin.

"Good," he declared, a twisted smile tugging at his lips as his hot breath ghosting over the exposed skin. "No claim."

King Bakugou wasted no time in closing the remaining distance. Swiftly leaning down, he sank his canines into the smooth flesh with a forceful bite. However, unlike true mating, the barbaric blond did not release the necessary venom that would solidify an actual bond between souls.

The lack of numbing venom caused a sharp hiss to escape your lips, a mix of agony and indignation flooding your system. You might not have been here long and you certainly were no expert, but you knew the basics of mating marks, this world's lifelong courtship. It was a deliberate move, a clear reinforcement that he had no intentions of making you his equal partner in this arrangement. After all, you were merely a plaything, to be toyed with. You should be thankful not to be bound to the barbarian's soul, and yet you couldn't ignore the obvious insult. Or the pain.

The unexpected stabbing pain of fang sinking into flesh triggered a reflexive response, causing you to shove and slap Bakugou's face in a desperate attempt to free yourself from his grasp. The crack of your palm connecting with his cheek seemed to echo in the massive war tent, leaving a bright red handprint in its wake and a streak of crimson trailing down the king's chin.

The barbarian's eyes glowed with fierce delight, his feral nature taking enjoyment in the defiance of his new concubine. Despite the stinging pain in his cheek and the split in the corner of his upper lip from the strike, a low chuckle escaped King Bakugou's lips. "You've got guts, shitty horns, I'll give ya that much" he growled, his voice laced with a dark amusement as his tongue flicked over his split lip.

If you thought your heart was racing before, it certainly paled to the drumbeat it was pounding now.

You had dared to challenge the king, to strike him in a moment of instinct. If the tyrant himself marched to this village over a few maimed soldiers, what exactly was your punishment going to be? A part of you regretted the impulsive action, aware that it would only fuel the bestial nature of the tyrant and likely add to your own suffering...But another part of you couldn't suppress the thrill that surged through you when you slapped the shit out of him. You might be trapped in this new situation but you refused to be completely meek, cowering at his feet.

You would submit. But only as much as you had to.

As King Bakugou's wicked chuckle echoed in the confines of the tent, he swiped away the droplets of blood that trickled down his split lip, relishing in the taste. "Spirited whore, ha?" he continued with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You'll learn. 'Til then, I'm gonna enjoy breaking that attitude of yours."

Your breathing grew shallow as you just stared at the king, mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. You knew full well that true defiance would only bring more challenges, but still a small ember of resistance burned. You would not surrender completely, no matter the threat. And even bolstered with the courage of the dissociative haze that emotionally numbed you to the consequences of your actions, you still knew the danger was very real.

The red glistening imprint of his bite marked your delicate skin, a reminder of his sadistic tendencies and the cruel pleasure he derived from such acts. Your body trembled in frustration, mind grappling with the complex storm of emotions that threatened to take over reason. You may have to play the role forced on you but you would bide your time, until the opportunity presented itself.

And so began the balancing act.

"Your position, in this territory," the warrior king continued, his voice dripping with gruff superiority, "is t'be at my beck and call. You exist to serve my needs now, like any other fuckin' whore. An' rest assured, you will serve me well." With those words, he spun you around and pressed your abdomen hard against the tent's solid wood table, his hands gripping your hips possessively.

"Lemme show you your new role," Bakugou sneered, voice filled with dark promise. With one swift motion, he pulled the rough dress up to rest on your hips, baring your body to his gaze. His eyes hungrily took in your curves, his fingers ran up the exposed skin of your thighs and hips. Feeling his rough fingers trail over the sensitive areas of your thighs, you could feel yourself getting lost in the intensity of the touch.

The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as King Bakugou ripped apart the too-tight bodice, buttons popping off as your breasts spilled free from the barely reinforced fabric. His knees pressed painfully firm against the back of yours, effortlessly spreading your shaky legs apart. The motion trapped your hips against the edge of the table and exposed your pussy to to his gaze. Breath hitched as you felt the large tip of his hardened cock pressing against your slick entrance. Every inch of your body tensed. Judging from the thickness of his head alone, the lean warrior was larger than you expected him to be. Bakugou's girth tested your cunt's limits, forced to stretch wide. Initial entry was rough, inch by inch, as your pussy's tight walls struggled to accommodate the impressive length of the barbaric king's dick. The pleasurable ache making you fight to maintain composure.

Leaning forward on your forearms for support, your chest squished against the cold surface of the table. Fingernails dug into the smooth wood, your knuckles turning white with each of Bakugou's punishing thrusts. An unexpected surge of arousal coursed through your veins, and you decided to embrace the inevitable pleasure that his pace promised to bring.

Despite your feelings on the turn of events, your body responded to his coarse treatment, for the distracting orgasm and mind-numbing hormones that lay tantalizingly within reach. Determined to find some semblance of pleasure within your new prison, you forced yourself to shift your perspective. If you were going to be forced to be an object of desire, you may as well revel in the physical gratification it offered and claw back any benefit you could until you made your move.

As the table rocked against the packed dirt floor of the tent with each forceful thrust, the warrior royal couldn't resist mocking you. His voice was filled sadistic amusement. "Where'd all that fire go?" he taunted, amused by the contrast between your previous defiance and your current submissive state. "Don't tell me I already fucked it out of ya."

Your aching walls had struggled to accommodate his girth initially, causing you to tense up. You had to focus on consciously relaxing your body, allowing him to fuck you with more ease. The mixture of discomfort and increasing pleasure sent waves of heat coursing through your body, intensifying your arousal. At this point, you couldn't tell whether the fact that rough sex made your cunt leak like a faucet was a pro or a con.

You really couldn't help but snap back, voice loaded with a defiant edge. "You really like the sound of your own voice, huh, 'Your Highness'?" you quipped harshly, rolling your eyes knowing he would be unable to see, as you were swept up by the overwhelming pleasure of being fucked against the table.

Undeterred by your attempt at disrespect, Bakugou leaned forward over your bare back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. The warrior king's voice dripped with amusement as he addressed your lack of fear. "You're really not scared of me, are ya?" the blond chuckled sharply, the feeling of his hot breath against your skin sending shivers down your spine. "Give it time," he sneered, his grip on your erect nipples tightening as he pinched and pulled. With a choked moan, your body arched instinctively in response, a symphony of conflicting sensations flooding your body.

Your black curls bounced with each punishing thrust, your body pressed against the dull edge of the table, the hard surface digging into your hips with a force that promised to leave bruised reminders of your afternoon in the days to come. The brutal intensity behind Bakugou's movements overwhelmed you, leaving you breathless and at his mercy.

Just when you thought you had found a rhythm, just when you though you were getting close to finally cumming- the royal bastard abruptly withdrew, his cock's sizeable head dragging along the walls of your dripping passage. A soft indignant gasp escaped your lips as the sudden emptiness left you yearning for release. Inner walls involuntarily clenched in a futile attempt to hold onto the fleeting pleasure, not that you would ever admit it out loud.

He took a moment to enjoy your needy frustration before thrusting back inside with renewed intensity. Each powerful movement caused your body to arch and quiver in response, teetering on the razor's edge between ecstasy and torment. Despite the lingering defiance in your heart, your cunt betrayed you, subconsciously craving the pleasure that Bakugou pounded into you. The aching bite at the junction of your neck felt hot, as your nipples squeezed between his vice-like fingers.

Your walls eagerly embraced the renewed pounding, tightening around him in a desperate attempt to hold onto the pleasure he provided. The overwhelming mixture of pain and pleasure sent shockwaves through your body, sparking sensations that threatened to consume entirely. As the table creaked under the combined weight, your gasps and moans filled the air, merging with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and groaning wood. The intensity of the king's pace, each thrust pushing you closer to cumming around the thick cock slamming in and out of your needy hole.

As your body neared the peak of pleasure, King Bakugou enjoyed the control he had over you, keeping that orgasm just out of reach. Each time you felt the pleasure building within you reach that breaking point, he would cruelly withdraw, denying you much needed relief. The frustration reached a boiling point,as your walls involuntarily clenched desperately around the thick ridge of his cockhead in a feeble attempt to keep it inside.

"Stop fucking teasing me!" you shot over your shoulder in irritation. The pleasure that coursed through your veins was distracting, clouding your mind and amplifying your need to cum. The denial of your orgasm left you on the edge in what felt like a perpetual state of yearning, body aching for the release that the feral blond held in his cruel grasp.

As King Bakugou repositioned himself, angling his thrusts to target your most sensitive spots, and the pleasurable torment of denial continued. The conflicting sensations pushed you further towards either heaven or hell. With how your legs trembled with both the overstimulation of your poor pussy's stretched walls and the unbearable need to cum, you weren't sure which you were closer to.

"Ha? Think ya forgot who serves who here," bloody eyes narrowing as he sneered, his arrogant tone held an unrestrained hunger. A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he drank in your frustration. He took great sadistic pleasure in this game. Knowing that, despite your protests, he had the power to bring you to the edge of cumming and keep. You. Trapped. There.

As the twisted dance between pleasure and denial continued, your body reacted eagerly to every movement, cunt walls fluttering near constantly in desperate need of fulfillment. Each time King Bakugou withdrew, your inner muscles clenched around the massive disappearing tip, another futile attempt to hold onto the pleasure that slipped through your grasp.

Wet, squelching sounds filled the air as he pounded back into your gushing pussy. The table beneath you was sticky with your juices, and his blood red gaze spotted a string of viscous slick suspended mid-air between the edge of the table and the packed dirt floor below.

With each turn of Bakugou's cruel cycle, a symphony of profanity spilled from your parted lips. Your body shook with the weight of unfulfilled lust, aching for the relief that seemed cruelly just out of reach. The rise and fall of your emotions danced in harmony with the motion of their bodies, humiliating frustration fueling your foul mouthed whimpers.

"'N fact," Bakugou laughed, gruff voice filled with sadistic glee, "I think that tongue o' yours has earned ya a punishment."

The barbarian's fingers curled around your quartz horns, his grip possessive and firm. As his grip tightened, you barely felt the dull ache spreading from the base of your horns through the haze of pleasure and overstimulation. The strain on your neck was evident, your head tilted back to reveal the garnet red bite print marring your exposed skin.

With a deliberate slowness, King Bakugou pulled back on your crystalline horns, his hold firmly guiding you until your upper body was no longer supported by the table's wooden surface. Weakened by the cruel cycle of ecstasy and denial imposed on you, your legs trembled with the effort to remain upright. The shift in position caused a head rush as you fought to remain standing upright. Turns out, you wouldn't need to fight that battle for long.

Using your horns as a guide, Bakugou yanked you down to kneel before him. Obediently following his command, your weakened knees sunk against the hard packed dirt beneath you. The shift in posture brought about a new level of submission, body now positioned at his feet, ready to fulfill the king's desires.

Bakugou's massive member hung heavy above you, his imposing figure towering over as he peered down with cruel superiority. "Ever get your mouth washed out with soap?" he sneered, a wicked grin stretching across his face.

With a snarky retort already forming on the tip of your tongue, you opened your mouth to deliver a biting response. However, in that moment of distraction, the massive cock head shoved past your lips, the sudden intrusion catching you off-guard. A muffled gag sound escaped your throat, eyes widening in surprise as King Bakugou claimed your mouth with little mercy. Musk filled your senses, the unexpected violation left you momentarily stunned. Your eyes watered as you struggled to accommodate his size, jaw stretched to its limits while King Bakugou hissed in pleasure at the feel of your hot tongue against his dick.

A gasp of surprise escaped your lips, muffled by Bakugou's large cock as he took advantage of the opening you unwittingly provided and began to thrust. The rough motion caused your tongue to press against the underside of the massive member, tasting both of you. The initial shock gave way to a mix of conflicting sensations - humiliation, arousal, and a begrudging surrender.

Your throat constricted around the tip of his dick as you fought against your body's instinctive gag reflex. The taste of your combined arousal filled your mouth, the combination of his precum and your own slick coating your tongue with every thrust. With each attempt, guided by the iron grip he held on your crystalline horns, you managed to swallow a little more of his length, throat stretching in an attempt to accommodate his girth. The barbaric king's control remained unyielding. He roughly guided your movements with an unwavering grip on your horns, forcing the pace at which you took him deeper. The sight of your struggle only made him grip you tighter, setting a faster pace.

You looked good, all fuckdrunk at his feet, submitting to his desires without question.

With each inch you took down your throat, your breathing became increasingly labored. Your eyes flitted upwards as much as possible, trying to meet his gaze as you continued to obey his every command. Teary eyes pleaded for mercy, yearning for the release that was just out of reach, as you continued to let King Bakugou's thrust into your throat. Bakugou locked gazes with you. It wasn't that he ignored your pitiful puppy eyes, all watery and unfocused, but it didn't certainly have the outcome you were begging for. His pace sped up, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he approached his climax.

Your eyes narrowed in confusion and as you felt a new ridge near the base of his cock begin to swell. It took you by surprise, lips forced to start to form an O-shape as you struggled to comprehend what was happening. You mumbled uselessly around the resulting barrier, only managing to press your tongue harder against the enlarged gland.

"Never seen an alpha before?" King Bakugou asked incredulously, the tone of his voice heavy with pompous amusement. "Ya really are a fuckin' freak, this'll be fun" he added, sadistically excited for the surprise in store for you.

The swelling knot created a tight seal against your teeth, effectively trapping your tongue in a frenzy of desperate, frantic movements. As his lust hit a peak, Bakugou looked down at you with dark satisfaction, the intensity of his gaze piercing into your very being. His words cut through the pounding of blood in your ears, his mean grin widening.

"Y're gonna want to breathe through your nose when ya can," he instructed as his hips started to stutter, cruel grin never faltering. "For the next ten minutes at least." He took great joy in the power he held over you, knowing full well the challenge he was about to present. His groans of pleasure were the only warning of his orgasm that you got besides the pulse of his knot, before waves of warm cum were cascading down your throat. You fought against the rising panic, you just needed to relax you told yourself. The taste of his seed flooded the back of your throat, your lips stretched around his swollen knot, as you braced yourself to endure the minutes to come.

Your breathing grew ragged as you tried to comply with the barbaric king's instruction, the pressure of his spurts down your throat sending your body into a state of sensory overload. Each surge of his cum filled the back of your mouth, forcing you to swallow to make room for more, so you wouldn't be overwhelmed. Nose pressed against the coarse, orange wires of his pubic hair, your breaths coming in short gasps as you struggled to find enough air.

Your sore throat bobbed with each gulp, lips sealed tightly around Bakugou's pulsing knot. You followed his instructions, taking quick breaths through flared nostrils whenever his spurts allowed a moment of respite. As you continued to swallow the seemingly never-ending load, your eyes watered and throat contracted around the royal's throbbing cock. Bakugou ran his thumb over your neck, tracing over the ridge his twitching cockhead made in your throat, causing you to choke and sputter, your reflexive gag wrapped around his dick.

The primal sounds of you gagging and swallowing seemed to fuel Bakugou, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he reveled in your struggle to regain control of your reflexes. He found the cruel game fun, knowing that you had to drink every single drop or be overwhelmed by the seed that filled your mouth. As the barbaric king rolled his hips, his cock milked one last time by your tight walls, the deflating knot slipped past your teeth with a squelching pop. You felt each inch slowly withdraw from your pained throat, eliciting a mix of both relief and a weird sense of emptiness. Your jaw ached from the strain, throat raw and bruised from the rough treatment. Cum dripped from your swollen lips, a shiny string dripping towards the ground between your knees.

You leaned back against the leg of the heavy table, body boneless and weak from the intense sex. Your chest heaved with each ragged breath, senses still reeling from the experience. The taste of his cum still lingered in your mouth, a reminder of of just how well you had performed your role.

His cruel grin twisted with satisfaction as he held your weak chin with his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your glassy gaze to meet his blood red eyes. The arrogance in his voice was evident as he spoke, his words laced with a mocking tone.

"You did well, little whore," King Bakugou taunted, "Maybe you'll last longer than the others." His words cut through you like a knife, a reminder of your place and his complete control over the situation.

And it only got worse.

Your stomach churned, the fullness from consuming the sheer volume of cum you did, mixed with the exhaustion and strain on your body. It was rapidly becoming too much to bear. The taste of his bitter seed lingered in your mouth, adding to the increasing waves of nausea that welled up. With shaky legs, you bolted towards the clean bucket next to the table, a hand clamped over your mouth. Face contorted in anguish as you reached it just in time, hunching over and emptying the viscous contents of your stomach into the wood container, a curtain of dark curls obscuring the action.

Wave after wave of white, thick cum splashed into the bucket. Your throat burned even more from the forceful expulsion, tears streaming down your face as you tried to catch your breath between stomach spasms and hiccups.

Meanwhile, Bakugou simply rolled his crimson eyes in annoyance. He watched with a scowl as you succumbed to the ill effects of being orally knotted for first time, his own sense of satisfaction completely unaffected. The king redressed himself in his leather breeches, his muscular chest displayed proudly. He made no move to help or console you, instead commenting with a disdainful tone

"Y're gonna have to get better at that," he sneered, his dissatisfaction with the newest addition to his collection clear as day. Without a backward glance, he exited the tent, leaving you seething with roiling resentment.

As you continued to glare daggers at his retreating back over the rim of the bucket, an unbreakable determination burned in your eyes. The interaction had further solidified your disdain for the barbarian king. One way or another, you swore to yourself, you were going to find a way to make that man miserable.

Bakugou made his way through the field, his strides thudding quickly across the field. His blood red eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the lush greenery and wind rustling through the grass and leaves. In the distance, he spotted Captain Kirishima, his towering figure standing tall on a hill overlooking the lake.

The captain of the king's guard, tall and muscular, wore his signature dark grey uniform adorned with a crimson cloak denoting his station. His mane of long, vibrant red hair cascaded down his back, and his curved ruby horns glinted in the late afternoon light. Nearing a staggering seven feet, Kirishima towered over most humans and dragons alike. With a languid stretch of his wings and tail, he looked every bit the formidable dragon he was. Even though his stature was imposing- off the battlefield, there was a softness to his facial features, a warmth in his scarlet eyes that contradicted his formidable appearance.

Stretching his wings and tail with a contented yawn, Kirishima paused mid-spread as he noticed his long time friend approaching. His scarlet eyes widened in alarmed confusion as he caught sight of the split upper lip on the king's face.

"What happened to your lip?" Kirishima asked baffled, his tail and wings still unintentionally frozen extended as he waited.

Bakugou's grin widened, his blood-red eyes shining with a mischievous glint. He licked his split upper lip, savoring the sting that still lingered from your bold and unexpected slap. The memory of the defiance brought a twisted satisfaction to the king.

"Hah! The village's 'peace offering' turned out fiesty" he responded, a hint of admiration laced within his tone. The fact that you had the audacity to strike him, the mighty Murder King Bakugou, had caught the barbarian off guard at the time, but it definitely made you more interesting.

Kirishima's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, his tail flicking. "They attacked you?" he asked taken aback, “Are they still breathing?” The captain knew that the barbaric ruler was not one to tolerate defiance easily, let alone physical attempts to challenge his authority. Kirishima's mind flooded with questions, but he kept them to himself as he awaited further explanation from his commanding king.

Bakugou's smug grin widened even further, his blood red eyes sparkling with perverse delight. "Oh, they're alive," he responded, his voice dripping with a sadistic satisfaction, "Just paying for their little outburst, that's all."

The words hung in the air, the implication clear. The king's tone hinted at the punishment the new consort was enduring in the privacy of the tent.

Although he hadn't yet met the new concubine, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy towards them. Having grown up with the royal, he knew firsthand the levels of wrath Bakugou could reach. Despite these conflicting emotions, Kirishima's primary concern was ensuring the well-being of those in the king's care, even if it meant treading carefully in the sea of Bakugou's own volatile temper. It often fell to the loyal captain to keep the king from committing actions he would regret later. Well, less regret and more inconvenience him.

"'n fact, you're on babysitting duty while I deal with the village," Bakugou said, the murderous glint in his bloody eyes betraying his enjoyment of the situation. The king's command echoed in Kirishima's ears, causing his ruby scaled tail to stiffen and his broad shoulders to tense.

Kirishima let out a silent exhale, disappointment etched across his face as he processed the news. In truth, he had hoped that Bakugou would choose to spare the villagers and seek a peaceful resolution instead of resorting to violence. The captain believed that the actions of a few rebels should not warrant bloodshed on such a scale. After all, the villagers had made multiple peace offerings to appease the barbaric king, it felt like a breach of honor for Bakugou to now go back on that agreement.

However, Kirishima knew better than to openly challenge his friend's authority. He respected the position Bakugou held and understood the consequences of rebellion. Biting his tongue, Kirishima buried his disappointment and gave a casual bow to his commanding ruler, before making his way towards the tent on the hilltop.

Kirishima stepped into the large tent, his unfurled wings brushing against the side as he entered. His wings, magnificent and majestic, spanned wide, their vibrant ruby scales shimmering under the soft glow of the tent's filtered light. The ruby scales continued down the length of his long, sinuous tail, adding a touch of elegance to his formidable presence.

As his fiery ruby eyes landed on you, Kirishima's first thought was one of surprise. The person who had struck King Bakugou looked a lot less imposing than he had anticipated. You, unlike the powerful and intimidating dragons Kirishima was used to, stood before him at a mere average human stature. If that. The only discernible dragon feature you possessed were the crystal dragon horns that adorned your head, gleaming subtly in the low lit tent. His scaled tail swayed slightly, displaying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your eyes widened as they met Kirishima's for the first time, and your body tensed instinctively. You had been thoroughly exhausted, both physically and emotionally, by your round with Bakugou. Your throat was raw and voice gone, leaving you unable to deliver the defiant expletives you desperately wanted to snarl at the imposing dragon that had just entered the tent. But your voice failed you, leaving you with only one avenue of expression.

With a fierce hiss, you expelled every ounce of ferocity you had left buried within. Your body tensed, lips curling back in a display of bare teeth. The hiss reverberated within the confines of the tent, a desperate attempt to communicate defiance to Kirishima, to convey that you would not be dominated or humiliated any further today.

The captain took a step back, scarlet eyes swept over your form, they couldn't help but notice the torn remnants of your bodice on the floor and the ripped dress clinging to your body. The rips and tears spoke volumes of the intense encounter you had undergone at the hands of King Bakugou. His gaze then landed on the mark that marred the delicate skin of your neck—an unmistakable claim.

Kirishima's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mind reeling with the implications.

As a dragon, Kirishima understood the significance of such a bite - it bound two souls together, sealing their connection as life partners in a way that couldn't be severed. When done correctly.

Marking a consort with a claim without fully mating them was not unheard of, but it was generally met with extreme judgment. Claims in terms of mating were typically reserved for life partners, a commitment that extended beyond physical desire. Nobles, known for their fickle nature and ever-shifting loyalties, often chose to mark their consorts with more temporary symbols, such as collars.

The ornate collars allowed the royals to easily discard their concubines when they grew bored. The nobility were notorious for their fickleness and often left their consorts behind as they moved on to fresh pursuits. By marking a consort with a bite with no intention of making you an equal, Bakugou had not only defied what little merciful convention held by the upper class but also inflicted a cruel fate upon you in Kirishima's eyes. The mark would make it near impossible for you to find a true mate, forever branded as the king's property.

Kirishima couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment towards his lifelong friend. While he knew the barbarian ruler's tendencies on the battlefield, he hadn't thought Bakugou would exhibit such cruelty towards a consort, knowing you would likely be discarded at some point. Kirishima's own sense of honor and loyalty clashed with the conflicting emotions he felt, itching at the back of his mind as he observed the vulnerable state you found yourself in.

The captain's gaze lingered on your throat, noticing the subtle signs of strain and discomfort. The realization for the hissing aggression struck Kirishima like a bolt of lightning. You had lost your voice, and it wasn't due to natural causes or illness. No, it became clear to him that it was likely a result of your first tryst with King Bakugou, an experience that he could only imagine had been rough and brutal, throat rubbed raw from the repetitive acts demanded of you.

Feeling a surge of empathy, Captain Kirishima decided to ease the intimidating aura he unintentionally projected. He understood that his imposing stature must be overwhelming to you, given the turn of events. He folded his wings against his back, their vibrant red membranes pressed tightly together, confining their expansive span. The act served to minimize his physical presence, making him appear less threatening. He slouched slightly, adopting a more relaxed stance, and kept his hands visible, showing that he meant no harm. It was a deliberate display of non-aggression, aimed at putting you at ease, or at least as much at ease as one could be in such circumstances.

The red dragon's eyes softened as he noticed the weary look on your face. He could see the exhaustion etched into every line, body still trembling from the recent ordeals you had endured. Determined to offer some solace in this tumultuous situation, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

With slow deliberate steps, Kirishima moved away from you and towards a pile of chests near the entrance of the war tent. These chests contained spoils from the village, items meant to appease the king after their attack on his soldiers. Kirishima knew that among them, there was a chest filled with garments. Opening one of the chests, he carefully sifted through the contents until he found a fine yet simple dress that roughly matched your size.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kirishima's lips as he gently tossed the dress onto the table, positioning it between the tow of you. Its delicate fabric fluttering in the air before settling down over the wood. It was a small gesture, but meant to convey that he harbored no ill intentions.

It was a silent message that you deserved respect and dignity, even in this tumultuous situation.

Sensing that you needed some space to collect yourself and change, Kirishima took a much smaller chest from the pile. He left the tent, giving you room to breathe and reckon with the pent-up emotions that surely swirled like storm clouds.

As the cool mountain breeze blew through his hair, Kirishima found a suitable spot a few paces from the tent, overlooking the serene lake in the warm hues of late afternoon light. With deftness and precision, he constructed a small firepit, arranging the rocks in a circle. As the dragon exhaled softly, a gentle stream of fire escaped his lips, the light glinting off his curved ruby horns. The flickering flames danced and crackled, casting a comforting glow over the hilltop.

As the captain patiently waited for the water to heat, he glanced back towards the war tent, briefly catching sparkle of your horns through the opening. His heart went out to you. Though he understood the gravity of Bakugou's actions, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of responsibility in making sure you felt as comfortable as possible, despite the circumstances.

Just as the water in the kettle neared boiling, Kirishima activated his innate talent. His hands hardened, gaining an impressive durability that allowed him to handle the intense heat without harm. With a swift motion, he reached for the kettle, hands possessing the resilience of a dragon's scales. His grip was confident and steady as he effortlessly removed the kettle from the fire, preventing the water from boiling. He gently tossed the healing tea leaves into the kettle, watching as they swirled and danced in the near-boiling water. The soothing aroma of the tea began to waft through the air, carrying with it hints of delicate flowers and calming herbs.

With a careful hand, Kirishima reached into the tea chest, procuring a magnificent stained glass teacup that shimmered in hues of red and amber. Draconic stained glass was a rarity, prized for its strength and ethereal beauty. The light of the late sun cascaded through the vibrant colors, casting an enchanting glow on his hands.

Unwrapping the glass bottles, the captain uncorked the crystallized honey and yuzu peel. He slowly poured a generous amount of honey into the teacup, its golden texture illuminated by the sunlight. Next, he added a pinch of the fragrant dried yuzu peel, allowing its subtly sweet and citrusy scent to infuse the air. These ingredients held healing properties, meant to soothe and restore vitality to worn souls. The captain took extra care, ensuring that the precise balance of ingredients was met, creating a concoction that he hoped would bring some measure of comfort to your weary spirit.

With a quiet exhale, Kirishima patiently awaited the completion of the tea's steeping process. He hoped that the healing properties of the tea, combined with the warmth and tranquility of their surroundings, would provide a much-needed respite for your body and mind. In this moment of quiet reflection, he couldn't help but hope that this small act of kindness would bring some solace amidst the chaos that was now your new life in royal confines.

As the tantalizing fragrance of the healing tea filled the air, it didn't take long for you to emerge from the confines of the tent, eyes cautiously studying Kirishima's every move. Clad in the simple yet elegant dress he had provided you, features betraying a mix of cautious curiosity, before you fully exited the tent.

Scarlet eyes met yours as he poured the infused brew into the stained-glass teacup, the colors of the evening sun casting a mesmerizing glow through its amber and red hues. With a delicate touch, he extended the teacup towards you, his gentle gesture offering a sense of peace and comfort amongst the chaos.

Your gaze flickered between the beautiful teacup in Kirishima's hands and his eyes, wariness slowly giving way to a glimmer of trust. You lowered yourself onto the cushion placed by the fire, its warmth seeping through the fabric and into your tired body. Settling in, you positioned yourself to face the serene vista of the lake, where the calm waters mirrored the vibrant shades of the setting sun.

Kirishima, mindful of your nervous vigilance, kept his movements steady and reassuring. His hand extended further, confidently offering you the teacup of healing brew. The crimson colored light filtering through the stained glass seemed to dance and flicker as if carrying with it a promise of respite.

A soft smile tugged at Kirishima's lips as he spoke, his voice gentle yet filled with earnest sincerity. "Can we start over? I'm Captain Kirishima." In that simple statement, he hoped to convey that he was not just a guard but someone who, at their heart, genuinely cared. Someone who would listen and support you, should you choose to share your burdens.

He waited patiently, the teacup held delicately between the two of you, awaiting your response. In this moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of the lake and the tender offering of healing tea, he hoped that they could find a glimmer of solace and a fresh beginning.

IRL Safety Disclaimer: Never Pull A Partner Up By Their Hair Off of a Surface. You Will Injure Someone.

Taglist: @themythicaldisaster

Comments and Reblogs carry me through the week!

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loki-is-my-kink-awakening · 7 months

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Okay, I wanna talk about this scene and what it might mean for Loki and Mobius in S2.

Sure, they stood here so Loki could point at the panel showing all the Kangs fighting, and the full mural is meant to be the story of how the Time Keepers created order out of chaos, but what if it also means something else.

Let's look at Mobius first, then Loki.

Mobius POV

Mobius is standing with his back to a panel representing chaos and looking at one that represents order, showing the Time Keepers appearing as gods to shocked people below. Seems very religious and mythological, right?

"If you think too hard about where any of us came from, who we truly are, it sounds kinda ridiculous."

Mobius had always believed in order and that what the TVA were doing, ripping people from their lives, was necessary.

He also has previously likened Loki's origins, which is literal mythology in mcu form, as similar to his own experiences in the TVA.

What he isn't aware of is who exactly was behind the curtain or that all-out war is coming. That's something Loki reveals to Mobius, showing him the truth in his blindspot (the panel behind him).

Now, he knows the Time Keepers are fake, that he wasn't created by them. By this point in the episode, he's already acknowledged to B-15 that their gods are dead.

This revelation for Mobius feels pretty similar to how the truth was revealed to Loki in S1E1.

Mobius is also looking at a panicked Loki. He's seen him teary-eyed before, but not this distressed.

What Mobius sees before him is his fear, that Loki won't be able to escape the bonds of the sacred timeline, that he's doomed to die, and that pains him.

And one last thing. Loki is a god of mischief, and I can't help thinking about the comparison of a real god Mobius can see in front of him and the fake Time Keepers in the panel behind Loki.

Loki POV

Meanwhile, Loki is looking at chaos that scares him. The panel has several Kangs all fighting for supremacy in a pose that was similar to that shown by Kang in S1E6.

Loki is the god of mischief, who thrives on chaos, and yet the prospect of all these Kangs frightens him.

War is the only thing preoccuping his mind. It's the only thing he can see.

But behind him are the Time Keepers, and we know they are fake, but what if the truth Loki has to face is that while he no longer wants a throne, he might need to take it to save the people he cares for, his found family.

Loki is looking at Mobius, who's concerned about him and a little rattled, but ultimately keeping his calm. I think this calm is likely to fracture the more season 2 progresses.

What Loki sees before him is his fear, that Mobius will be caught up in the war and lost to him. It's a reminder of what's at stake if he doesn't restore order. And he's already experienced a Mobius who didn't know him, and that was heartbreaking.

What this scene also does is continue both Loki and Mobius being mirrors for each other, revealing truth and reflecting one another.

They are similar to each other in many ways. We saw glimpses of Mobius embracing chaos in S1, which I always love to see. And I can't wait to see more of these soulmates. They are important to one another.

Thanks to @lgwilt and @insert-witty-user-name-here for discussing this theory with me. I added in your glorious insights because what you said really resonated with me.

And I haven't even spoken about all the touching, that Mobius doesn't want to lose Loki and Loki is just so desperate to get to Mobius, but I think other people have covered that.

And just a wee note to everyone that this is just me theorising, and usually my theories do not happen, but I couldn't help pondering if this mural had an even deeper meaning. I just like theorising for fun.

Hopefully, the above made some sort of sense.

#loki series #loki #mobius #lokius #loki tv #loki show #loki s2 #loki season 2 #loki x mobius #wowki #loki theory #loki spoilers #not that this necessarily happens but for those who don't want to see any theories too

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scyllas-revenge · 6 months

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Just read your “leap of faith” fic for Legolas and I have say I absolutely adore your writing style! Would it be possible for you to do a drabble or some rough ideas on what he would act like in the morning after waking up?

Thank you so much!! Honestly, that wasn't a fic I really planned to write more of, but your ask got my extremely rusty brain back to writing, so thank you! I'm not sure I succeeded at the style I was going for here, but it was fun to give it a try. I hope you like it!

(and @heilith I remember you requested to be tagged in my next Legolas content, so here you go!)

Leap of Faith, Part 2

aka even more Only One Bed shenanigans

Legolas/reader (gender-neutral)

Word count: 1100

Rating: G

Read part 1 here!

Legolas wakes to the sound of his name, but does not hurry to open his eyes. Your voice is a thing of beauty, as it always is, and he sighs a soft smile at the sound, willing the outside world away.

Soon his name is on your lips again, a bit more insistently this time. He shakes his head faintly. Not yet. Mortal sleep is a new experience for him, and he would indulge in it a few moments more.

Now your hand presses against his shoulder. Regretfully, Legolas allows himself to be jostled into real wakefulness at last, where he finds you lying beside him, soft morning light streaming in through the inn’s faded curtains.

Your body is still curled toward him under the blankets.

Concern pinches at your brow as you study him. You have never seen him sleep with his eyes closed—is he unwell? But then, perhaps elves never feel unwell. The wry laugh in your words does not fully disguise the sudden pain behind your eyes—perhaps you are reminded, as he so often is, of the immeasurable gulf between you, mortal and immortal, human and elf.

But you were never one to dwell overmuch on such heavy matters—you rest a hand against his forehead, half-teasing, as though to check for fever. Burning up, you inform him, your solemn pronouncement betrayed by the grin playing on your lips. Alas, he is quite unwell indeed! You fear his days are numbered. He had best get his affairs in order.

Legolas does not return your laugh. He will feel unwell in truth, he knows, the moment he must rise from this bed and carry on his journey with you, pretending he did not hear you whisper his name in your sleep, pretending he did not succumb to mortal dreams by your side. But he must give you an answer, and such a confession will not do.

He was curious, he admits at last. It is no lie—not even a half-truth, for he is burning with curiosity, has burned ever since he met you. It is a weak answer, but it seems to satisfy you, and you smile at him more earnestly.

Your hand still rests on his forehead, as though you’d quite forgotten to remove it.

Have you shifted nearer to him? He does not think so. Yet the distance between you now seems unbearably small, intimate, your legs half-entwined under the blankets, his hair touching yours on your pillow. Nearly a lover’s embrace.

It is improper, Legolas thinks to himself, the instinct to scramble back rising in his throat. His curiosity has always warred with nervousness around you, the desire to at once surge forward and retreat often keeping him at a standstill entirely. But you speak again, and his eyes are drawn to the movement of your lips, so hypnotizing that you are forced to repeat yourself twice before he understands.

Has his curiosity been satisfied, then? Now that he has had a taste of mortal sleep? Your eyes crinkle with laughter, the sound dancing soft and intimate between you. Mortal sleep is quite dull, after all, and you fear he must be disappointed. You shake your head ruefully, your hand leaving his forehead only to brush, agonizingly, against his cheek as you draw away—

“No.” Legolas's hand grasps your retreating wrist before you are aware of it.

His voice is still soft, the half-hushed restraint of early morning that you, like all mortals, seem to favor, but you cannot fail to sense the change in it, a flame igniting the word, low and rasping and hungry.

You lay frozen for a moment, your lungs scarcely drawing breath. But an answering flame sparks behind your eyes, and you raise your brow at him. “No...you are not disappointed? Or no, you are not satisfied?”

Softly you return your hand to Legolas’s face, your fingers trailing tentatively over his cheekbone, his jaw, the shell of his ear, shaped so unlike your own. His heart soars at your touch, and he laughs softly for sheer joy. “How could you disappoint me?" His hand falls to your waist, drawing you nearer. "In the waking world and in sleep, there is delight to me in all you do.”

“I am glad.” Heat blooms on your cheeks, but your fingers continue to play over his face, his neck, his hair, and your smile now is a thing of fire. You lean in closer than ever, and he wishes it might burn him. “And how could I satisfy you?”

Oh, there can be no doubt, now, that you feel as he does. The little bedroom seems suddenly to be made of gold, the morning sun sinking into his skin as though this is the first sunrise ever to grace Middle-Earth, the world born anew before him. Yet for all his elation Legolas knows not how to answer—he wants too much, far more than he can ask of you, and he fears his curiosity will never be satisfied.

Smiling all the wider for his silence, you take pity on him, tapping a playful finger against his chest as though in thought. “Perhaps I might tell you what I dreamed of last night. Will that do?”

Your touch burns over his collarbone, his neck, his jaw, until your thumb sweeps softly over his lower lip. He swallows hard. He sees your sleeping face again, branded into his memory, your lashes fluttering, lips parting as you murmur his name. No, he thinks. It is not enough. “Perhaps you might show me instead.”

There is a heat beyond fire in your smile now, a heat to rival the rising sun. You know as well as he that this alone will not satisfy either of you, that this will begin something new and terrifying, a leap of faith far greater than the one he had taken last night in lying down beside you and closing his eyes. Yet he does not mean to retreat, and nor, it seems, do you.

“Hmm. It will do, for a start.”

Legolas is still chuckling fondly at your answer when you press his name against his lips, tangling your fingers in his hair. As you pull his body flush against yours, sighing as he parts your lips to taste the joy and trust and desire on your tongue, his fears and doubts vanish like summer fog, for he knows you have faith in each other utterly.

He knows that when you take this leap together, you will fly.

#legolas #legolas x reader #lotr fanfic #only one bed #i should have been getting work done today and instead i horked this up #is it too tacky. it feels too tacky #whatever i stand by it #tacky is my middle name #scylla tacky revenge

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aamy2100982 · 4 months

Text

Something that always makes me sad about the comic WAR! It's how uneven is the way Soldier finds out about the "betrayal" and how Demoman finds out about the "betrayal"

Like, Miss Pauling gave Demoman some nice weapons and told him that his friend agreed to fight him and Demoman just stood there like:

"Damn"

He didn't even have the time to ask questions or request more evidence or refuse a second time.

But Soldier? Man, how Soldier found out it was just cruelty. First of all

They scared the shit out of him when the guy just took off his jacket right there in front of him.

And then

They break his little heart when they make a fake recording of Demoman calling him a "bad friend". And yet Soldier refuses, reaffirming how much he appreciates Demoman's friendship.

And after breaking his heart, they reduce the pieces to ashes!

Soldier is an extremely proud and stubborn character. This secret is not just a silly thing, it is probably Soldier's most personal and intimate secret, I think many of us are even convinced that Jane really believed he was legally a Soldier who deserved respect, but no. Jane Doe is aware of who he really is and he decided to tell Demoman about this.

This wasn't like Demoman who was simply confused because his friend one day simply decided that he wanted to kill Demo. Soldier was actually led to believe that Demoman hated him and that he haven't respect for his friendship that he decided to reveal Soldier's most intimate secret.

Not only that. From what Soldier says, he also paid for plane trips JUST TO GO VISIT DEMOMAN! And he gave Demo significant gifts (the medals). For Soldier, this not only felt like a betrayal, but he "realized" (in quotes because we know this is an administrator's invention) that his friendship with Demoman was one-sided, because Demoman didn't do the same things for him.

(I know I made a mistake in the purple text, it's too late to change it, but it's not necessary to correct me again, I know I'm wrong. My English is from primary school and Internet so sometimes I read poorly and I don't understand a thing. I also didn't find anyone who has translated this comic into Spanish so I had to make do with what I know xd)

It just kills me how unfair this was for Soldier :"(

Edit: Demoman had his new weapons brought to the door of his house so he could have a test, Soldier didn't even know what weapons he would be offered, they just blackmailed him.

#tf2 #tf2 soldier #tf2 demoman #tf2 comics #boots n bombs #maybe?

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gffa · 8 months

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Hi Lumi. This year I’ve watched The Clone Wars, Rebels, Mandalorian, Book of Boba Fett, and Tales of the Jedi and I’m watching Ahsoka as episodes are released. But I feel like I’m missing some context as to why people are wary of Filoni. What things should I know so I’m caught up, so to speak, in the fandom discussions?

Hi! That's a lot of Star Wars to watch in a year, I hope you're having fun with it all! And I will gently remind everyone that Filoni is not the be-all-end-all of Star Wars creators--Henry Gilroy was there for TCW and Rebels, too. George Lucas was holding writers' meetings years after the show started (at least into 2010!). The Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett are far more Jon Favreau's shows. The Bad Batch is Brad Rau and Jennifer Corbett. Resistance was developed by him, but was run by other producers. It's just that Filoni tends to get the most camera time and has become the face of Star Wars creators. That said, the issue with Filoni is kind of two-pronged, though, they overlap. 1. He's done a lot of interviews where he's said a lot of anti-Jedi things that have drifted from reasonable critiques in the beginning to eventually "Qui-Gon Jinn was the only true Jedi. [blatantly wrong citations]" This has put a lot of people off him as a creator, because we love the Jedi Order that Lucas talks about and established, which Filoni has actively contradicted over the years, despite being promoted as someone who follows Lucas' themes. And it's hard not to be aware of his interviews when watching his shows and it's hard to enjoy shows that do your faves dirty, you know? 2. His writing has become weaker over the years for a lot of us--Rebels is a show most of us love and found to be incredible. Many of us really love The Clone Wars, which he was heavily involved in/was probably the central voice after Lucas started phasing out. But his biggest story told over the course of those series--basically, the story of Mandalore's history and fall to the Empire--has been extremely thin for a lot of us. And a lot of us get frustrated at his inability to be objective when it comes to Ahsoka's character, that we love her as a character very much, but it hasn't felt like Filoni really knows what to do with her character arc and yet almost everything he writes is centered around her. His final season of The Clone Wars? Gave her the walkabout arc and the Siege of Mandalore arc, both of which often did not hold up well under scrutiny. His episode of The Book of Boba Fett? I actually really loved it, but it absolutely just stopped the pacing of that show to focus a lot on her. More on Luke, but he couldn't resist putting her in there, either. Tales of the Jedi was half devoted to Ahsoka and so much of it wasn't even about her time as a Jedi! We're frustrated because he doesn't set things up well anymore--Morgan Elsbeth is a Nightsister?? Why wasn't that established in The Mandalorian instead of pulling out randomly in Ahsoka? Why does Sabine Wren suddenly so badly want Jedi training, when they barely even had a conversation in Rebels?? There's a lot of good that Filoni has given to Star Wars, I think he genuinely cares about the Force and what it means--he's very consistent on how it's not easy and how it takes discipline and control, that he has been consistent on how anger and fear are paths to the dark side, even his episode of TBOBF had Ahsoka saying, yeah, attachment is a path to the dark side, because the Jedi mean "attachment" in a more Buddhist-aligned way. A lot of his writing for the character of Ahsoka is actually pretty good, like I've been enjoying her being a prickly, traumatized hot mess in the show! It's just that I kind of hate all the interviews he gives and I think he's a lot less objective than a lot of fans and media coverage that would hold him up as a perfect writer/interviewee about all things Star Wars, and it all comes together to make him kind of a hot-button topic.

So, a lot of people LOVE Filoni's work, a lot of people are frustrated by it, a lot of people are casually fine about it, a lot of people HATE Filoni's work and it can be a fun mix of any of the above or even other issues that come up. (And that's all fine! I have my views on Filoni's work, but it's fine if others hate it more than I do or love it more than I do, there's room for us all, all of it is valid.)

But I think if you want to understand some of the roots of this corner of fandom's frustration, two (admittedly long as heck) homework assignment reads would be:

- My own rebuttal to Dave's behind the scenes Mandalorian Gallery talk (this is jokingly referred to as "Davegate" because I refused to take it too seriously) - @david-talks-sw's collection of comparisons between Lucas' commentary on the Jedi and Filoni's commentary on the Jedi

This response itself is more focused on laying out the problems a lot of people have with Filoni's writing, but also honestly I still have my giant collection of Jedi source material citations that quotes his commentary, I still bring up Filoni's quotes in current meta a lot, I still talk positively about the things I enjoy from his shows, so overall there's equal amounts of both praise and criticism here. So, as short as I can make it (which isn't very, shut up, I know! XD), that's basically what people mean when they say they're wary of Filoni.

#star wars #dave filoni #meta

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awyeahitssam · 1 month

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Based on the idea that Malfoy could not get the vanishing cabinet to work effectively, and decided to mention, instead, that Hogwarts was taking the Great Hall wards down for a six-fucking-week course on Apparation. This is what wouldn't happen. But it's where my mind went, first. Warning: Graphic Violence

A loud crack signified the first successful Apparition.

Harry’s eyes, closed in preparation for his own attempt, snapped open and his head turned. It wasn't a student standing at the other end of the Great Hall, though. Harry jolted for his wand as other students began to turn to the cloaked figure, but before he could take aim there were four more sharp cracks.

Dark-robed, masked Death Eater’s were apparating directly into the Great Hall, the only place the castle wards were down for Hogwarts students to learn how to do the same.

Bellatrix LeStrange was the first to appear sans mask, having no need for discretion. She took in the scene with a cackle, batting away Harry’s immediate curse effortlessly as she cooed, “Aww, look at the wittle student's trying to learn!”

In his periphery Harry saw Neville lift his own wand, and they cast simultaneously. This time, Bellatrix twisted out of the way. “Do the wittle babies wanna play?”

“Sectumsempra,” Harry hissed with malice, fully aware of the spell's effects, now. Bellatrix’s eyes widened a bit even as she turned out of the way, quick as a dancer. The Death Eater behind her fell to their knees as their body was pulled apart by deep, horrible gashes.

More cracks sounded; Harry began to send out indiscriminate stunners, hoping to catch the intruders before they realised they were being cast at. They all came prepared for battle to have begun, shield charms springing around them immediately.

“Bombarda!” Ron called grimly.

“Expulso!” shouted Neville.

“Protego Maxima,” murmured Hermione. “Accio Susan Bones. Protego. Stupefy—students to the teacher's entrance!”

The frozen bodies of some of their yearmates seemed to jolt, realisation settling. Many students turned tail and ran.

Susan Bones, having narrowly been pulled out of the way of a powerful cutting curse that had gouged into stone walls by Hermione, was casting stunners, petrification hexes, and disarming charms. Harry was not nearly so restrained, once he realised the stunners were ineffective. Sectumsempra broke through shields like a battering drill and Death Eaters were falling, ripped apart by his fury. Curses flew from Harry's wand as fast as he could think of them: conjunctivitis, blasting, jelly-fingers, reductors, even slug-vomiting. He conjured six venomous snakes that shot off without instruction, knowing his will. Yet again and again, Harry came back to the Half-Blood Prince’s spell, the most devastatingly effective of them all. People were dying from its effectiveness, but Harry didn’t care, because they had dared step foot in Hogwarts—

A horrible pressure was building in Harry’s head as half the hall emptied. A wand prodded Harry’s spine, and he stilled, shaking with rage and adrenaline. “Call—call off the snakes, Potter,” a somewhat familiar voice demanded shakily.

“I’d rather they bite your father, Nott,” said Harry coldly. “Drop your wand before I have to make you regret it.”

The wand trembled, for a moment, against his spine. “C-Cruci—”

Harry drove his elbow back, hard, and slammed down one foot on Nott's. The taller boy stumbled back in pain, and it was no great difficulty to stun him. He hit the floor, hard, and Malfoy’s grey eyes were large and frightened as he stared at Harry, still as prey.

At once, Harry realised what he had done “You,” he said, scar pulsing horribly. “You did this. You brought war to a school filled with literal children, you stupid, useless brat. You're scared of what Voldemort will do to you? Just wait, Malfoy. His punishment would be bliss compared to what you deserve for this.”

“Such a temper, Harry Potter,” came Lord Voldemort’s cold voice. He had made no sound as he apparated, not like his followers, but Harry’s viciously prickling scar had made his imminent arrival clear. “You have done well, Draco. You will be… rewarded.”

Malfoy’s eyes darted in fright from Harry to the Dark Lord, and Voldemort was barely in time to hiss “Stop,” to the snake that had snuck up on the boy.

“You don't obey him,” Harry hissed, “you’re mine. Do what you’re made for, dear one.”

Draco turned just in time to see the snake strike out at his neck. It vanished before its fangs could load the boy with venom, and Harry turned his hateful scowl to Voldemort, who’s gaze already rested upon him, intent, heavy and fascinated.

“Deal with it, Hermione,” he snapped.

“Harry—” came Hermione’s warning voice, but Harry couldn’t listen, had to dodge out of the way of Voldemort’s spell. The Dark Lord tilted his head, stare thoughtful, and then turned his yew wand… away.

Harry watched him with a wariness not misplaced: Romilda Vane, nearly out of the Great Hall via the Professor’s entrance, fell to the cruciatus curse with a cry of pain.

“Drop your wands, children,” the Dark Lord said, red eyes still locked on Harry as his soft, cold voice echoed through all corners of the room, carried by wandless magic.

Harry grit his teeth at the seeming opportunity, well aware of Voldemort's objective. And yet, truly, he could not have picked a worse target to try and bring Harry under his control than the girl who had nearly raped him. He cast a wordless sonorous on himself to refute the order: “Don't give an inch. There are First Years in these walls. Do to them what you would to Umbridge. They're twice her threat. Any student who raised a wand to help Voldemort’s sect will be treated as hostile. See how I handle my enemies, Goyle, and ask yourself if that cheap shot is worth your life.”

Even as he spoke, Harry turned from Voldemort, dismissive, and focused on thinning the herd. Thirteen Death Eater’s still stood, including Bellatrix, who was engaged with Neville and Ron. Harry used every spell that came to his mind, even those from the Half-Blood Prince’s book he had not tested before. One man was effectively eviscerated, much to Harry’s disgust. He only used that spell once.

When he saw one of his snakes change course he pulled the magic from them, an effective banishment, cold eyes finding Voldemort again. He had not heard the man speak parseltongue, and indeed he was still holding the crucio, face twisted strangely as he watched Harry.

“My, my,” said Voldemort, immediate once he had regained Harry’s attention, two more of his people fallen, “so vicious, little snake. Does Dumbledore know you have venom?”

“I don't give a fuck what he knows,” Harry said harshly. “This is a school.” This is my home. “Focus on the bloody Ministry, and leave children out of it.”

Voldemort had the gall to laugh, high and cold. “This is not merely a school, Harry Potter,” he said. “There is a reason you children stand your ground and fight. This is where Dumbledore trains his small, young army to go to war and die, as their parents did before them.”

Wrath bubbles in Harry, heavy and explosive, and he must look as unhinged and inhuman as the man watching him as he cages it behind his teeth. He flicks a shield charm around Bones and Abbott before a reductor hits, and a disarming charm hits the perpetrators back. He breaks the dark-wooded wand into two pieces the moment he catches it.

“You truly think Dumbledore has taught us anything? Even my ‘private lessons’ with the man are just memories of your life, as if I care that you got away with murder when you were still sixteen.” Hermione pulls Vane’s still writhing body from the room, and Voldemort’s cruciatus ends, but he does not seem to notice or care, eyes locked on Harry. “The only reason I fight is because I do not believe in the world you are trying to create. Because you say things like ‘magic is night' and still try to subjugate witches and wizards, as if the fresh magic in their veins is poisoned by the muggles they're born to. I defy you, Lord Voldemort, because you decided your best course was killing a baby over a half-heard prophecy, and still try to kill me to this day. I am not going to stand here and let you. I don't believe ‘magic is might’. I've already killed many of your people tonight… but that—that wasn’t over ideology. That is because I will kill as many as it takes to keep your grasping, greedy fucking hands out of my school.”

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dearshelby · 1 year

Text

The devil's advocate | T.S

Summary: Tommy's wife tries to understand why people keep calling him a bad man while she keeps loving him so much.

A/N: This idea popped in my head at the middle of the Sunday's evening and I couldn't resist writing it 👀 Although I'm a Tommy apologist this isn't my view of him, I'm aware he's a morally gray character, but in the story the reader is too naive (and a bit lovesick) to see that.

Being married to Tommy for so long, she'd seen him in all states. War had changed him, hardening his features to the point she no longer could tell what he was thinking or feeling. Nevertheless, she knew him, she saw him smile and cry, laugh and fight, fall apart and build up again.

Rarely, she saw him fear and hardly ever, she saw him at peace. Contrary to what many people think, Tommy didn't become emotionless, he became a sergeant, always in charge, never indecisive, mercilessly leading the family to the top of the world.

An aching anger burnt in her chest when they were so ungrateful for it. They always said she was love blinded, heartless or simply too stupid to understand Tommy wasn't a saint, his mistakes had gotten many people killed.

She knew that, it was hard to turn a blind eye to the fact that besides everything, Tommy was capable of utter violence. However, how could she condemn him? He wasn't randomly violent and he didn't take pleasure in it - or at least that's what he had led her to believe - everything he had ever done was to protect the family.

How could she condemn him when the Tommy who beat a man to nearly death was the same to bring her flowers and jewelry? He always looked so tired, the problems and appointments never left his head, but he still insisted on giving her a gift at the end of the day.

Thomas Shelby wasn't a bad man and he didn't deserve his family's hatred. It was a hill she was willing to die on. Even in the nights she tried to consider the possibility, her eyes always reached the portrait on her dressing table, Tommy with their newborn baby, no bad man cared for his family so much.

Perhaps they knew a side of Tommy she didn't, but she knew a side of him they didn't know too. The man who rested his head on her chest every night, much like a kitten rubbing his cheek on her so he'd get head scratches. Or the man who cried with her when they got their first Christmas tree since neither of them had this privilege in their childhoods.

On the other hand, there was Tommy who got home with blood stains on his collar and didn't answer her questions. Also, the Tommy who killed the italian Sous-Chef while their child slept on the floor above.

A knot formed on her throat when these thoughts haunted her, she couldn't believe it, her Tommy wasn't bad, he couldn't be. Then why did everyone seem to label him so? What was the probability that everyone was wrong except her?

What about everything he provided? What about the risks he took to provide the family? Didn't it erase the many wrongs he did? She didn't have the time to ponder when the bedroom's door opened, revealing a tired, yet very handsome Tommy.

"Hello," he drawled with the husky voice she loved so much.

"Hi," she immediately stood up, "how was your day?"

Tommy shrugged off and put his suitcase at the armchair in the corner, "As usual,"

"Yeah?" walking to him, she rested her hands on his shoulders, "Arthur called, I told him you'd call back later,"

Sighing and rolling his eyes, he nodded in agreement, "Alright,"

"Let me get you off this suit,"

Slowly, she began dressing him off, her fingers occasionally brushed his warm skin. At the same time he caressed her face, his thumb moved up and down her cheek, traced her lips and playfully pinched her nose.

Then she realized, people didn't know this side of Tommy, the soft, playful husband, that's why they called him bad. She was certain now.

Letting him on his undershirt, she brushed the tip of her nose on his and whispered, "I love you,"

"I know," he answered, "that's why I do what I do,"

Weakly smiling, she touched their foreheads and closed her eyes, she didn't need answers or justifications while breathing the same air as him. If everything he did was for her, she didn't mind being the one to blame.

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic

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denzelhart · 1 year

Text

His delighted star (1)

Summary: You get sent on a mission, it ends successfully but the place where the mission took place is too far away from base. While staying on the helicopter, waiting to land. You start thinking about your relationship between you and your Lieutenant, Ghost.

Warning: Swearing, slow burn (maybe?) deny feelings, a little fluff, you have a friend name Tobas, reader has no pronouns.

- C/n: Code name

Wordcount: 1.1k

Note: This is a male reader fic but can be read as gender neutral! There maybe some error grammar because this is my first time writing this, hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Male!reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Many hours had passed since you and your team got onto the helicopter, you weren't aware of the time or when you'll land. But you know it won't be soon, especially when the place where the mission's located is very far from base. It's a pain in the ass.

The mission was simple, there weren't many enemies left out there due to C/n's teammate taking good care of them, Ghost. Well, the name "teammate" doesn't suit what's going on between the two people, when your relationship is far more complicated than you think.

Neither of you two was a person who likes physical contact, especially Ghost. You don't know anything about that man which got you curious about him, only hearing about some rumors from other people wasn't enough, when you 'accidentally' look at his files and get scolded later from captain Price. Yet with all the information you think you have about the man with a skull face? Still nothing. Ghost was a mysterious man and he sometimes scared you. That's what you thought when you first saw him.

The day you save him from an enemy, he starts to acknowledge you as an 'acquaintance' or 'companion' after a few months, which makes you two hang out more often. It wouldn't be rare seeing you together. Practicing gunshot? Right next to him, making some coffee? You always make an extra cup for him,.. Everything was great and even Price was happy to see Ghost had a companion aside from Soap. Until it didn't go well, as a person like Ghost who doesn't into much affection or physical contact. At first it only starts with the shoulders touching, thighs, sometimes hands. You thought it was only coincident, Oh boy it didn't just stay as 'coincident' which to the point Soap starts to get suspicious between the two of you. Like, who doesn't get curious about you and him? The two of you always hang out with each other and sometimes get a 'little' touchy. On the other hand you don't feel anything about those touches right? It's just a feeling, it'll go away someday. Oh you were wrong, not only did it not go away but it grew even more.

You weren't into physical contact due to your past trauma caused by your 'beloved' father, which led to you startle whenever Ghost touched you or even praised you. Make things more complicated. But from time to time you get used to it and eventually you start to like it and the things that happen between C/n and Ghost. You like it so much, it begins to consider your relationship.

"Fucking hell, there's nothing happening between me and him." You argued with your friend, Tobas. "That's some bullshit, C/n. You do know that right?" Yes, you do know about it and you do know it's bullshit but you're still denying it. All you do is give him the silent treatment.

"Cut the bullshit C/n, do you have feelings for him, mate?" he looks over to his friend, watching C/n busy as you are cleaning up your knife but deep down inside you know you have tried to avoid that question from Tobas. "I don't know! I'm not supposed to have feelings for my Lieutenant, mate." You denied looking over to Tobas, you knew you were right at this point. You shouldn't have feelings for anyone, you're afraid of opening up for a new relationship knowing it will end like your last one, you're afraid that war will take someone you loved away from you, afraid it'll take him away, Ghost.

It's hit you, you do have feelings for your Lieutenant but all you do is keep denying it because you know well how it ends. Pushing it down is the best option you can do. "Damn, you're right." You mumbled. "What was that?" Just when C/n about to say something but was interrupted by a voice, you know damn well who the voice is.

"You two cut it out, I'm not going to deal with you too again." Oh it's Ghost, the man you just talked about a few minutes ago now is standing right in front of you. Glanced at you and your friend like a predator. "Sorry, sir." Both of you said. “Now get up, there’s a mission we need to deal with right now.” He scolds, as you and Tobas quickly get up so you can get ready for the mission, walk away from the place you just sat down. But you didn't catch the way Ghost's eyes watching over you walking away.

That's the last conversation you have before going on the mission.

Now you’re on the helicopter, not knowing when it will land. Your back is going to kill you one day for sitting too long until someone slightly nudged your arm, it was Tobas. “Oi mate, he’s been staring at you for like an hour” he whispered, you didn't say anything. You move your gaze a bit to make sure Tobas didn't make things up, only to find Ghost's eyes already glance at you. His gaze is still like the first time you have met but it's more soft than before and more.. lonely.

"I know, quit staring at him or he'll be in your sleep." you chuckled a bit, looking away from Ghost's gaze while Tobas nudged you again. Another silent in the helicopter, not knowing what to say or to do because the team was already tired. Just when you're ready to close your eyes, another nudges your arm again to get your attention. "Hey C/n, look outside." Tobas laughs a bit at your confused face. Again, you look outside the window wondering the hell Tobas is talking about and there it is. Star in the night sky.

You liked watching stars when you were little, always watching it from afar but the more you grew the less time watching it. Now you gotta see it again, gazing at stars outside the window. Wondering when was the last time you have watched them.

Ghost has watched you since the team finished the mission, now his gaze has softened when looking at a happy C/n. He has seen your happy face with the team before but not this one, it's different. It's more precious. Knowing how the war has done to you or the trauma you have been through. Your smile still looks delighted to him.

"Get ready, we're landing."

That's what Ghost heard before got a pat on the shoulders by Soap. "Y'all like C/n? Just curious of how you look at C/n." Ghost stares at Soap for while. "No"

Ghost knows damn well that's a lie.

To be continued..?

#ghost x male reader #mw2 x male reader #cod #ghost x reader #cod x male reader #Denzel's writing #cod x reader #mw2 x reader

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serasfanfiction · 1 month

Text

Cw for blood. No gore, tho. Cw in tags as well. Mostly Alastor being Alastor.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

If Lucifer didn't know any better, he would have sworn Alastor was going out of his way to make certain they ran into each other.

He seemed to be everywhere.

It didn't help that whatever he was doing, Alastor had seemingly decided to pull out all the stops. Horrifically enough, he was good at just being there, right as Lucifer would turn around, watching and waiting as if to see how long it would take the little king to notice him.

(And if he had damn near shrieked the first time it had happened? Well, no one else was around, so who would hold him to it?)

After a week of this, Lucifer was starting to feel twitchy. It was difficult to tell if he was actually sensing eyes on him like a second skin or if he was just being paranoid. The only place he felt any relief was in his own room, which he might have taken to hiding in when it all became too much.

It felt like being stalked. Like he was being hunted.

Lucifer growled to himself, frustrated he had been driven to such drastic measures. Yes, he could totally stand up for himself! He was significantly more powerful than that petty little sinner! He just really, really didn't want to deal with all of this. There was a reason he avoided senseless drama.

He groaned, throwing off his covers and forcing himself out of bed. Enough, he thought to himself. This had gone on far too long and it was past time he and a certain Radio Demon had a little chat.

He donned his suit, building up his armor like he was going to war. Which, he supposed, he sort of was. He settled his hat in place and grabbed his cane, aware he was doing all of this over a lowly sinner, Overlord or not, but he felt the uncontrollable urge to remind Alastor which of them was actually the King of Hell and which of them wasn't.

He was self aware enough to appreciate that if this really was just a matter of the Ruler of Hell putting a sinner in his place he wouldn't have needed to have put on his uniform, but Alastor had gotten under his skin and everyone already knew it.

There was no point in looking for Alastor. Based off of previous behavior, the red head would simply come to him.

Lucifer deliberately kept to public enough areas to invite company, while still being private enough that Alastor would be tempted to sneak up on him.

And Alastor did not disappoint.

Lucifer spotted him out of the corner of his eye while getting lunch. Triumphant, he spun around and pointed an accusing finger. "You!"

Alastor's ever present smile ticked ever-so-slightly wider, but it wasn't showing teeth yet. "And how can I help you today, your Majesty?"

"We need to talk," Lucifer stated, tone brokering no disagreements. Not that the other Hellion was protesting. "Now."

Alastor tilted his head to the side at just the right angle to be unnerving, hands folding behind his back. "Are you actually going to talk to me or are you going to run away again?"

Lucifer allowed himself a deep, calming breathe. Allowed Alastor to see it. The released exhale was hot enough for a whisp of smoke to escape.

There was still no teeth, but it seemed like it was only barely.

"We both know the only reason I've tolerated your behavior is because I promised not to fight with you."

Alastor raised on eyebrow, asking without verbalizing it as to if this wasn't a potential fight.

Lucifer crossed his arms to keep from wrapping his hands around that scrawny little neck. "And I want to keep my promise, but to do that, we need to get whatever you've been going through this last week out of your system."

Alastor laughed, false and mocking. "Ha! I assure you, I have no idea what you mean."

The blonde refused to rise to the bait. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but we are doing this." He smiled, tone generous as he added, "I'll even be nice and let you chose if we're having this talk in your room or mine."

Alastor considered him, body language giving away nothing. "You'd give the familiar ground to a potential enemy?"

Lucifer waved a hand at the room in general. "One could argue anywhere in Hell is my territory." He hummed lightly. "But in all honesty, even if your room - the one I built for you - could be considered enemy ground," here he leaned in to make his point, "There's nothing you could do to seriously harm me if I don't let you."

There it was again: the flicker of the dials. It was written all over him that Alastor wanted nothing more than to take that as a challenge and to put that theory to the test.

Lucifer welcomed him to try if it meant they could move on from this - whatever this was. Because that statement wasn't a theory, it was a fact.

Alastor reigned himself back in until not even a hint remained of his control slipping. "My room, if you don't mind. Shall we go?" He held out a hand, gesturing for Lucifer to take the lead.

Which, nope. He was not turning his back on this guy at this point in the game.

With a snap of his fingers, red smoke wrapped itself around them. It was showy and unnecessary, but it was worth it for the way a brief spasm of panic tightened Alastor's smile at just how easily Lucifer could just straight up kidnap him if he wanted to.

Which was good. Let him chew on that tidbit for a while.

They reappeared in the Radio Demon's quarters. The basics had been done per what Vaggie (with a V!) had been able to remember, as she was the only member of the hotel who'd seen Alastor's room. They'd left his personal touches to him, but an honest effort had been put into rebuilding the structure of it.

Glancing off to his right, Lucifer could see that Alastor had rather impressively bent reality (like the elderich creature he was) to morph half of the room into what appeared to be a bayou. It gave the impression that the room was significantly larger than it was. The residue of the magic it took to pull off such a stunt made his teeth itch, the same kind of wrongness the original bar had had.

Various other personal effects had worked their ways around the room. Some of the more interesting ones were the array of trophy skulls, both human and animal, decorating the walls. He had little doubt that Alastor had hunted, skinned, and mounted every one of them himself. The only real question was if they were original to the room pre the hotel's destruction? Or were they... newer?

By the time he turned his attention back to the owner of the room, said owner had had more than enough time to regain his composure. Lucifer was a little sorry he'd allowed Alastor the break, but he did genuinely want to resolve whatever the hell was going on between them. Being stern when needed was fine, but he didn't want to push Alastor so hard he snapped unless he had to.

Lucifer tapped the fingers of his predominant hand against his arm, all weight on one foot and ready to start tapping the other if necessary. He gave Alastor an expectant look. "Well?"

Alastor was nothing if not up for a fight. He may have been knocked off balance, but he was clearly up to being ornery as pay back. With an air of boredom, he inspected his claws, as if looking for nonexistent dirt. "Well, what, my dear king?"

Lucifers fingers didn't pause. "Don't play coy, it doesn't look good on you." He was pleased with the narrowed eyes he got in response. "What has this last week been about? You've been acting weird." Lucfier waved a hand in Alastor's general direction. Added, "Well, weird for you."

Alastor's irritation smoothed out at the implication that Lucifer paid enough attention to him to have come to some conclusion about what might constitute as 'weird behavior.' He hummed lightly, the noise oddly soothing in a way. "Very well, if you must insist. Just don't get angery if you don't like the answer."

Lucifer frowned. Angry? About what?

All thoughts were cut off as Alastor melted away into his shadows (and when the heck had his shadow gotten that close? He hadn't even seen it move). The thought crossed Lucifer's mind that he should have warded the room to keep the sinner from leaving, but ultimately, he needn't have worried.

Well, about Alastor trying to run away.

Because he really should have known better.

He realized where Alastor had gone, just as he could hear the unmistakable sound of someone taking a deep breathe right in his ear.

Lucifer could feel every single one of the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as that breathe was exhaled against his neck, sweat breaking out across his skin as a shiver ran through his body. The only reason he didn't yelp was because he was too busy choking on his own tongue.

Dignity be damned, the King of Hell nearly teleported across the room, hand slapping up against his neck. Eyes widen in horror, he brandished his cane like a rod. "Wha-- what in the seven rings of Hell was that!?"

Alastor watched him like a cat watches a mouse it's having fun playing with. "You asked what had gotten into me." He folded his hands behind his back, as if he hadn't just been sniffing the Devil himself. "That was... curiosity."

Lucifer stared at him incredulously. "Curiosity?" He laughed, a little forced as he tried to reign in his too-fast heartbeat. "If you were curious how I smelled, you could have just asked."

Alastor raised an eyebrow to that and Lucifer belatedly realized he'd just implied all someone potentially had to do was ask to smell him and he might let them do it.

Lucifer flushed but refused to correct his statement.

"Hm, how quaint." Alastor leaned in eye so slightly, just to see Lucifer unconsciously lean back. "Rest assured, it isn't quite so simple."

A pause lulled between them as the blond waited for the rest of the explanation. When he failed to receive one, he waved a hand impatiently for the red head to get on with it.

Alastor turned enough he could look out into his bayou without completely losing track of his guest. The motion drew Lucifer's attention to the area, although he didn't dare take his eyes off the serial killer.

"Has anyone told you what my dish of choice is?"

The question confused Lucifer and his impatience made him feel irritated by what felt like a non-sequitur in the conversation. He'd heard Alastor was a cannibal, so he assumed it was other sinners. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Alastor rolled his eyes, gesturing out into the bayou.

As if on cue, a tree branch snapped closer to the edge of the trees in the distance. Lucifers eyes snapped to whatever had made the noise, making eye contact with ...a deer?

Lucifer stared, that feeling of being hunted roiling over him as it dawned on him what had happened. He didn't have to look at the Radio Demon to know he was watching him like a predator watches his prey.

Lucifer swallowed, hard. "I... I don't know what you..."

There was no mercy, no quarter in Alastor's eyes as he near stalked over to the Devil. His smile was all teeth as he ran a finger along the brim of Lucifer's hat. "When I saw those ears, I was curious if you would still taste like an angel or if you might taste like something more to my ...preferences."

Lucifer was fairly certain his brain was short circuiting. Some wire must have gotten crossed, because what came out of his mouth wasn't 'you're a freak,' it was:

"If you got your taste, you'll back off?"

The two stared at each other, Lucifer unsure who was more surprised by the question.

Alastor's grin was every inch as wicked as everyone only thought the actual Devil was but really wasn't. "Are you offering a deal?" The hand he'd used to near caress Lucifer's hat fell into the offer of a hand shake.

It was Lucifer's turn to roll his eyes. He shook his head vigorously. "Nope! No deals!" He glared, slapping the hand aside. "You'll likely find some wiggle room no sane person would think to look for and I am not interested in being on the menu indefinitely."

Alastor didn't even bother to look contrite. He simply looked disappointed. Since the offer wasn't on the table, he withdrew his hand and straightened his posture. "Then what are you proposing?"

Yes, self, Lucifer thought, what are we proposing? He felt like he'd lost all direction in this conversation because he had no clue how his day had gone from 'put Alastor in his place' to 'let's let an actual cannibal bite us.'

Lucifer grasped for the last shreds of his dignity, realizing that he might have finally found something that ranked high enough to be added to the Top 5 Insane Things I've Done For My Kid list. It didn't stop the ever-so-slight tremor from creeping in, even as he tried for stern, as he offered, "I'll bring back the deer attributes, you get to satify your curiosity, and then we go back to whatever our usual is."

Alastor's eyes narrowed. "To be clear: I get to draw blood and you won't retaliate?"

There was no official deal, but it still felt like they were making one. "Yeah." Lucifer shifted, trying to shake off the last of his nerves and at least seem like he was confident. He was still absolutely sure Alastor couldn't deal him damage faster that he could heal from it, but his nerves didn't want to settle. "You get a freebie, no punishment or retaliation, in exchange for returning to the status quo."

Alastor's teeth sharpened visibly, the room growing darker around them.

"Deal."

Still feeling like this was going to come back and bite him in the ass - or, well, neck or arm, if one was being literal - at some point in the future, Lucifer made his way over to one of the chairs near the room's fireplace. He set his hat down on the seat, before pulling off his coat. He had a feeling this was going to be messy. Neck wounds often were, and he had a feeling Alastor wouldn't be satisfied with being offered anything else. He regretted the amount of layers he'd dressed in, even as he used untying his bow tie and unbuttoning the first several buttons of his shirt as a desperately needed delay tactic to simply breathe through what he was about to do.

Judging by the indulgence he could almost hear coming from Alastor's spot in the room, he held no such disillusions as to if the red head knew that he was stalling.

Taking a deep, steadying breathe, he pulled the shift over himself, falling deeper into it than he had during the trust exercise. Blond ears flicked into existence around small antlers on his head. Goat hooves morphed subtly into deer ones. A fluffy, equally blond tail twitched slightly at the base of his spine, in mirror of his anxiety.

Burrowing it all down, down, down, Lucifer gripped the edge of his shirt, yanking it down as he spun around, finally allowing a grin fit for his reputation to spread across his face from ear to ear. Tilting his head to the side in invitation, he asked, "Well, Alastor? What are you waiting for?"

Alastor control snapped with an audible static screech. Moving across the room with a speed that had kept him alive during his fight with Adam, Alastor near pounced onto his prize. The force of their collision sent them toppling to the floor, Lucifer's head just barely missing the seat of the chair. The impact with the ground drove the air from his lungs, and Lucifer didn't have the chance to even attempt to recover as he felt razor-sharp teeth sink into the tender flesh of his throat.

Lucifer's body spasmed as it attempted to draw in air, lungs needing a second to remember how to work and he was startled by the pain of attack despite knowing it was coming. He was finally able to draw a desperately needed gasp in as those teeth withdrew. Lucifer could feel it even without seeing the damage that of course Alastor had gone deep. It was definitely going to take him a hot second for it to heal, but heal it already was.

The Radio Demon, seeming to realize this, sunk his teeth in again. Lucifer's hands flew up to grab onto Alastor's arms at the new wave of agony coursed through him, squirming as he resisted the urge to shove the larger figure off of him. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood himself as he braced himself for Alastor taking his pound of flesh.

There was a creak, like bone grating against each other. Alastor shifted, teeth unmoving as he moved. As he made himself more comfortable, Lucifer realized as the shock of it finally began to abate and adrenaline flooded his system in response to the trauma. He had to swallow down the urge to laugh, knowing it would be more hysterics than actual humor.

He grunted as those teeth withdrew, surprisingly without taking a chunk of his neck with it. He was confused until he felt a warm, wet tongue slide over the wounds, chasing blood the color of gold regardless of what form the seraphim donned. Without meaning to, Lucifer flinched at the odd sensation. It was not quite pain, but not quite soothing.

As the pain began to recede, Alastor seemingly merely content to fill himself up with one of the rarest delicacies in Hell, Lucifer was able to take stock of his body. The bruises along his back from his fall were already healing almost as fast as they appeared. The deer tail, smaller and thicker than his normal, whip cord one, protested being squished the way it was. His ears twitched as they followed every noise Alastor made, the sensation odd.

Since this appeared it was going to take a moment, unless Alastor decided to go for his throat with his teeth again, he decided to try and relieve his poor tail to distract himself from the fact that it felt like there was a tongue digging into one of the still open wounds.

Alastor's own ears twitched as the shifting of Lucifer's hips caused the sound of clothes rustling to sound through the room like a shot. Lucifer was tempted to reach up and pet one, but that would have moved all of this into territory far too close to something intimate, which this very much wasn't, thank you very much.

When the pain finally disapaited, the lapping of that insidious tongue moving from stinging to something far too close to ticklish for comfort, Lucifer decided he'd had enough. "Alright, I think you've had enough."

He was far too proud of the fact that his voice didn't shake.

Much.

His fingers dug into red sleeves as he could feel Alastor's smile brush up against the base of his ear.

"And if I haven't satisfied my curiosity?"

Oh, no. Absolutely not.

"Nope, you're done." Lucifer bucked, shoving off the grinning asshole, who went with all the grace of someone who'd gotten thier cake and ate it, too. Lucifer sat up, glaring as Alastor looked barely rumbled while he knew he himself looked like a mess.

"There, you've gotten your taste. Agreement upheld." Lucifer pulled back up his shirt, wincing at how much blood had soaked into it.

"Hmm, perhaps." Alastor placed a finger to his lips, eyes half lidded.

Something about the way it was said raised Lucifer's hackles.

Alastor merely stared back, not adding anything to his comment.

Right. Okay. Whatever.

Lucifer stood slowly in an attempt to hide the way his legs trembled. Once he felt stable, he began putting his facade back together. Buttons all buttoned up. Blood vanished with a mere wave of his hand (to Alastor's obvious disappointment).

He was slipping on his coat when Alastor rose to his own feet. Lucifer felt it was massively unfair that all it took was some minor adjustments, and the Radio Demon looked as put together as normal.

(Almost, an insidious voice whispered in the back of Lucifer's mind. Look closer, and he could see the little ways in which Alastor was affected. The slight flush to his cheeks of a successful hunt. Unhinged smile replaced with something more peaceful. The satiated hint of hunger quenched for the first time since they'd met.

This way lays trouble.)

But Lucifer shook it off, just like he shook off the foreboding feeling of Alastor holding the Crown of Hell.

He was already in too deep.

He slipped his hat on, letting the deer attributes he'd donned finally disappear. "Well, see you around, I guess."

Alastor hummed in agreement. For his own sanity, Lucifer refused to read into it any deeper.

And if his portalling out of the room was straight up turning tail and running?

Well, it wasn't like it was the first time he'd done it that month.

Tbc

Part 4

#radioapple #alastor #lucifer morningstar #deer lucifer fic #tw: blood #cw: blood #i have no idea what theyre doing at this point #im just the writer #know i said that before but its still true #theyll probably let me know what the hecks happening #right as im trying to sleep #like they did this time 🥲#oh god i just remembered i gave the user name to this blog to someone i know irl #whelp too late to turn back now 🙃

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martellspear · 4 months

Note

We don't know the entire story yet, so it's impossible to make a judgement like you're doing.

I'd argue that Elia was in fact in on all of Rhaegar's schemes to bring about prophecy. They both knew she couldn't have anymore kids, and so she allowed him to seek out a woman who could...Lyanna.

A crown prince must have more than 2 kids, Elia failed her only purpose. No wonder Rhaegar turned to Lyanna.

I mean, Dorne seems OK with anything so long as there's an agreement between all parties involved.

Robert didn't love any of the women he slept with. His vows meant nothing.

Rhaegar meant everything. He cared for Elia and his children, but also seemed to be in love with Lyanna. His vows had meaning, even if they were interpreted differently.

Hi, anon. I'll assume you've read "tolerate it" and that's what made you come here.

We don't know much about them but I highly doubt Elia was 100% on board with everything. I think he shared some aspects of the prophecy but can you, honestly, tell me that she would take part in the most humiliating moment of her life? Willingly?

"Jon Arryn and Robert and Lord Hunter joking a moment before what was happening dawned on them, Ned watching as Rhaegar was about to stop in front of his sister, mad Aerys glowering in the distance, Elia stiff-backed and trying to act as if nothing was wrong, Jon Connington probably looking vaguely sad, and so on." — source

That's what Paolo Puggioni, an artist George hired, said the author himself told him.

One of my darling moots put in words, better than I would ever be able to, thoughts about Elia and the polyamory relationship some people like to insert her into, you can read it here.

Yes, Elia could be accepting and supportive of others who do it, it's their life. But she's the Crown Prince's wife and future queen. Why would she even consider adding one more person to their relationship? Especially knowing the consequences of those? And not only for her personal life and her children; think about Dorne, the Stormlands and the North's reaction to such insult and pair it up with everything the war cost (Brandon and Rickard died before it even truly started). "But with Rhaegar being king-" George has made clear how fragile monarchy in Westeros actually is.

Elia would put her children in a dangerous position if she not only fully agreed to Rhaegar's plans but also welcomed Lyanna and his bastard. Additionally, I'd love it if you could point it out for me where it says a crown prince can't have only two children (seriously, I'd like to know). Elia gave him two healthy kids and it almost cost her her life, she didn't fail anything.

(consider this to be about book!rhaegar and lyanna; my thoughts on their show version couldn't be more different)

I don't think Rhaegar loved Lyanna at all. And sometimes it honestly felt like he'd rather if she died after giving birth. She was a means to an end. Personally, I believe he manipulated her and then either kept information from her (she wouldn't stay if she knew what happened to her brother and father) or kept her there against her will; two disgusting scenarios. Rhaegar was obsessed with the prophecy, he changed his entire lifestyle for it. If it was love, he could've abandoned his crown and gone to Essos 🤷🏻‍♀️.

If Elia was aware, why wasn't she in Dorne and completely safe? Why didn't Oberyn know of this? "No, but he goes after the Lannisters-" he wanted justice. Even if the person who set them up was Rhaegar, the one who gave the order was Tywin and the one who did it was his beast. Aerys and Rhaegar were not people he could go after, maybe in his afterlife.

More importantly, and I'll be repeating myself here, it doesn't matter if she loved Rhaegar or not or how deeply she did it. Rhaegar's bastard is a direct threat to her children and their future and I doubt Elia - or anyone who hasn't lost their wits - would happily comply with that.

I have done nothing but gathering information and filling voids, what most do in this fandom tbh. There's little we know of how it was like but Rhaegar did hurt Elia again and again; and I do believe he was fond of her, which only makes things worse.

I don't have to know his thoughts to know that some of his actions were disrespectful, hurtful and disgusting; Elia doesn't have to agree or be aware of his plans for crowing another woman QoL&B (and later run away with her) to be humiliating.

Rhaegar, and Rhaegar alone, handled everything with all the sensitive and grace of a reversing dump truck.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #elia martell #oberyn martell #anti lyanna x rhaegar #anti rhaelya #rhaegar targaryen #chatterbox nia

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oneatlatime · 4 months

Text

The Earth King

As always, commentary off.

No. Sokka. No. Stop. This is your stupidest idea yet. I want to LEAVE Ba Sing Se.

Sokka. Listen to your sister. And your other sister.

Toph embodying my will manifested on screen.

What makes you think the Earth King is going to listen to four teens and their fluffy dog? When I put it that way, this is Scooby Doo. Scooby Doo plus Momo. Does that make Momo Scrappy Doo?

We're going back to Ba Sing Se. Great. Yay. I'm so excited.

It is rapidly becoming apparent that Sokka has lost his mind.

Surface to air rocks is funny. I'll give it to them, that's good.

This fight scene music is fantastic.

Aang took a level in badass at some point without my noticing.

I know these hats are inspired by real historical hats, and so I really shouldn't make fun, but these look like the lovechild of a toilet brush and a feather duster.

This fight is majority Toph and Katara. RIP the egos of these several hundred Earth Kingdom soldiers.

Please ensure your fluffy little butt is securely stored in the overhead bins before takeoff.

There's no way these guys are still alive. This is what was done to Jet, doubled. They dead.

The girl who doesn't even want to be here is doing all the work. Typical.

My congratulations to Toph, Katara, and Aang for demolishing an army without breaking a sweat. If only season 1 Katara could see you guys now.

I said in my previous write up that Zuko doing something good always comes back to bite him. I didn't mean it this literally. Did he have to take the jug out with him, or was that for the drama?

Good job guys!

Soka steals my job and points out the fulfillment of the Beat Up Sokka quota.

His earthiness has an interesting set of priorities.

So... is this episode just going to be talking?

He brainwashed your friend? Did you miss that he killed him too?

I said in my last write up that Long Feng was Avatar's first competent villain, but the tone he takes with the Earth King is so unsubtle that I'm thinking of rescinding that claim. Unless the King is so dumb that subtlety isn't required?

Toothprints. Sokka the idea guy coming in clutch. Too bad his brain wasn't engaged at the start of the episode.

Appa is a herbivore. Confirmed. Although he should have fangs for aesthetic reasons. Fanged Appa would be metal.

This king is a confusing mixture of endearing and infuriating.

No mere fever will prevent me from doing mundane actions in the most dramatic way possible!

Way back in the 90s there was a print ad for Chevy trucks that I remember seeing in magazines. It had a shirtless guy in jeans sitting on the bed of his truck in a field, pouring a bucket of water over himself. It was kind of at sunset and had a very late summer vibe. I had completely forgotten about it until I saw Zuko's bucket shenanigans in this scene, at which point I was abruptly -ABRUPTLY- reminded of how much time little me spent staring at that ad.

OH MY GOD. The King doesn't know about trains!!! BLASPHEMY.

Huh. So the King isn't stupid, he's just horrifically naive.

Positive attitude Sokka is kind of frightening. I do not like.

If I told this King that I had a bunch of puppies in my windowless van, he would totally fall for it. So much about the Earth Kingdom suddenly makes sense.

That one guard is having a doozy of a day.

Did the King just show a smidge of self-awareness? Wasn't expecting that.

Who is this? I have no idea who this is. I didn't realise how integral the scar was to the character's design. Give it back.

Yikes. A bunch of shmymbolism. I suck epically at decoding shmymbolism unless it's really spoon fed to me, so I'm not even going to try to understand this dream beyond 'poor guy has a really bad fever.'

Has anyone seen the Spencer Tracy movie Father of the Bride? There's a bit where he has a dream that the floor on the way to the altar does pretty much exactly this. Hungry floors must be a common dream experience.

Pretty.

If the King is really this completely ignorant of the war, who's been directing the army?

It's pretty neat that Sokka is the spokesperson of Team Avatar, and that no one disputes that.

Aang says "there's a comet coming this summer," but I heard "comic" and I know they made tie in comics for the show, so I was like "ooh a crossover episode!"

"You're already vulnerable. The Fire Nation won't stop until the Southern Water Tribe falls. You can either sit back and wait for that to happen, or take the offensive, and give yourself a fighting chance." -Sokka's dad speaking to the men of the Southern Water Tribe, while his son listens perhaps a bit too closely.

If the King really was completely in the dark about the war, how does he even know who the General is? Did Long Feng have the power to keep the General from mentioning the war?

"Your majesty I'm General How, head of the Council of Five." "What's that?" "It's in charge of your army." "Right. And what's the army up to these days?" ... " ...I planted a lovely tomato garden this year."

I love that earthbenders don't wear shoes, and that it's culturally normal. Makes an intriguing visual contrast to their fancy duds.

I have GOT to know what Mushi the teamaker's secret file says.

Toph can't read guys.

Sokka, Katara, I get it. You miss home too. But how would anyone at all from your tribe know to send a message for you to Ba Sing Se? Last time you all touched base, you were headed to the Northern Water Tribe. And those guys sent you off to Omashu, not Ba Sing Se.

Nitpick time! Katara starts reading the text of this letter out loud before she unrolls it.

Katara's voice acting while she's reading the letter is sweet. She's so excited.

Iroh. Priorities. Tea can wait.

"Huh? What's happening?" "You huffed a bit too much cave slime under Lake Laogai. Just ride it out."

This vase is lit like a main character.

"You're going through a metamorphosis my nephew." Iroh, he's a bit too old for that talk. Hang on I just realised that Zuko went through puberty on that ship. I bet that was rough.

I don't trust this. This news is all too good.

Aang referring to them all as "the family" hurts a little bit.

It is unbearably sweet to let Sokka go see their dad while Katara helps the Earth Kingdom plan, but Katara sucks at planning. Then again, the Earth Kingdom sucks in general, so maybe having a sucky planner will be a net improvement?

Either way it's good little sister content.

But there are six Kyoshi warriors. I counted in Appa's Lost Days.

Oh they didn't

Attack hug!

Airbender Zuko is a very effective jumpscare. Don't blame him for freaking out.

You know it's bad when finding the scar intact comes as a relief.

Nope. Don't trust it.

Fuck this guy.

Long Feng even eats rocks maliciously.

Fuck these guys.

Oh they did. Fuck these guys.

Final Thoughts

And just like that, it all went to shit. Or it will.

I was braced to be annoyed by how conveniently quickly the Earth King got with the program, but it actually fits well into the rest of the episode. Instead of a thing that goes improbably well, it's the one thing that goes right in episode filled with set up for everything falling apart. That bothers me less.

This episode was actually fun. At least until the end. It was mostly talking and Zuko on a bad trip. But it was win after win for everyone but my Ba Sing Se hating self, and it's always good to see your favourites having a good day. But! I have a glimmer of hope! So long as Sokka and Aang aren't completely written out until they return to Ba Sing Se, at some point I'll get some episodes outside of the city. And I have Appa back, so things aren't too bad in the grand scheme of things. I wonder that Appa wasn't upset at having all his people back for five minutes then having them split up again.

I do not like positive thinking Sokka, and I especially don't like that I have no idea where he came from. That point wasn't set up at all. I want my baby cynic back.

If letting Appa go was enough to trigger Zuko's morality crisis to the point of physical illness, why didn't letting Aang go in The Blue Spirit, or choosing to chase after Iroh rather than the Gaang in The Winter Solstice Part 1, cause a similar illness? What is different about this time?

Toph was once again the voice of reason in this episode, or rather my personal audience insert. Although it did surprise me how excited she was to see her mom. I thought that sending bounty hunters after their own daughter was kind of unforgivable, but either Toph doesn't know, or she's a more forgiving person than I am.

I realise now that this should have occurred to me when I watched Appa's Lost Days, but what idiot didn't take the Danger Ladies into custody when the Drill was stopped? btw I keep calling them the PowerPuff Girls in my head.

This episode was simultaneously a finale to a lot of threads and an introduction to a lot more. It was a chance to breathe between crossing the finish line of the 'find Appa' quest and starting the 'season finale' quest. It was also structured backwards. The big fight was like six minutes in. The 'what are we doing this episode?' was one of the last scenes. But it still works. I'll be interested to see what I think of this one when I rewatch it. It was such an info dump that I wonder if my opinion of it will be different once I watch it with all of the relevant facts known to me already. Either I'll appreciate the episode's other parts like the comedy, or I'll be bored. We'll see.

Two episodes left this season! I don't think I'll be getting to those before next year. See you all in 2024! (time needs to slow way down)

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #the earth king

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