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yoondles · 3 years

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Unholy - P.JM

Devil! P.JM x Reader

Summary: The Devil doesn’t ask for repentance, he punishes those who fail to repent.

Themes: A few religious hints here and there but it’s just porn without plot

Word Count: 5k, edited if you close your eyes

Inspo: nothing but ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵒˡʸ ᵇᶦᵇˡᵉ jk

Warnings: Degradation (he calls you a whore), huge dick like hUge, fingering, oral (m receiving), bondage, unprotected seggs, rough seggs?, teasing/edging, creampie, mature language, mentions of murder, drug dealing, and Jimin is a 🤏 cunty.

A yawn. It was what had woken you up, it was ironic however, the person who yawned must’ve pulled something from his muscles that he had to yell loudly. His bones cracked as your eyes opened, lashes fluttering as you sneaked a glance towards his direction. He cocked one of his eyebrows up, giving you a look that he was indeed better than you. You tried your best to move around, only to find out that you were held locked against the mattress.

The chains repeatedly moved against the wooden frame of the large bed. Your legs were locked up, but most importantly, you were naked. Cheeks tinted a pink hue as your observed the entirety of the room, your heart was pounding against your chest as you tried to cover yourself. Your eyes avoided his, gazing at the dark hues of red that scattered around the room.

The cold air did nothing but remind you of your current form, knees quivering as your nipples went hard from the cool breeze. Breath halting as you felt the man beside you breath against your neck. “Where am I?” You dared to ask, after all, your mouth had not been forced shut, might as well put it to use.

“Ah, the pure innocence humans have when they’ve finally reached my domain.” He muttered, his shoes clacking against the tile of the room. Pushing his tongue in his cheek as he fixed his coat, gently placing it behind the chair as he dragged it lazily in front of you. “You’re in hell, darling!” He exclaimed, eyes turning bright as he met your terrified eyes, pearly white teeth glowing brightly in enthusiasm. “No, seriously, where the fuck am I?”

“Well, aren’t you a crude little brat?”

“This is fantastic, you little grievances just keep on getting cocky,” He was annoyed, licking his lips as he gazed at the corner of the room, as if he were trying to calm himself down. He pushed his hair back, cracking his neck before gently placing both of his hands in his hips. A derisive gaze lingered on your body as he eyed your entirety.

The silver from his ears glowed brightly under the light that illuminated the room, his prominent cheek bones were highlighted, his plump lips were slightly open as he finally moved to meet your eyes. “Having the time of your life, aren’t you?” You wondered how long you’ve been staring at him, nitpicking, trying hard to find a flaw in his image. His mood was quick to change as he leaned forward, hands reaching your neck before enclosing it in a inhumane grasp, limiting the oxygen that flowed within you. “Always so fragile.” He muttered under his breath, watching the way your veins would appear.

You choked out a breath. You coughed out as his hands began travelling south, touching the area around your hard nipples but being careful to the point that he doesn’t allow himself to touch them. “Get your hands off of me, freak!” You yelled, the sound of metal rattling blasting the entire room.

He seemed unfazed. “You’re a feisty little bitch for someone who’s supposed to be punished, very ill-mannered if I may add. I’ll talk to God about this design flaw,” he was shaking his head as he grabbed a small notebook from his coat pocket, alongside a pen, writing down his observations as he muttered against his lips. “What?” You yelled once again, chains rattling loudly as you did your best to run away from this lunatic. “God, as in G, O, D. Father of almighty, creator of heaven and earth, do you want me to continue reciting the Apostles’ Creed?”

“Stop playing around, just — let’s get this over with, I want to go home.” He was confused, completely taken aback by your sudden submission, closing your eyes as if you were waiting for something to happen. Thunder rumbled from the outside, as the ground slightly shook. “Completely lost will to live, shows lack of loyalty...” the sound his pen made against the grain of the paper brought you back to reality, you couldn’t help but laugh at how much he took this seriously. Sure, it was one thing to live in your fantasy, but to write things as if this were reality? What type of weed did he smoke to get this high?

You let out a yelp as his fingers hit your exposed cunt, wincing as he shifted the pen back to its’ original position, closing the notebook with his pen inside. “May I remind you, you’re in hell, darling. You don’t get to boss me around, most importantly, you don’t get to push me into listening to your orders.”

The tone of his voice never faltered, “you’ve been quite a naughty little bitch out there, criminal records going quite far. You’re going to love it here, maybe you’d roam around as a middle class woman, especially with that reputation.” You shut your mouth, pulling once more as you tried your best to break free. No one knew about your criminal records, no one knew that you did illegal work. So who the hell was he, coming out here and telling you about this? You suppose he was a man of power, or maybe the police had finally caught you, you had no idea. “Normally I’d approve of it, you know, living your own life. However, you brought this hellhole, quite literally, so many souls. Imagine having to get in a queue to enter hell. All the drug dealing, corruption of innocent souls, let’s not forget about the old woman you forced your subordinates to run over.”

“H-how?”

“I rule hell! For someone who’s been living a life as lavish as yours, you’re quite dumb.”

His fingers were tracing small circles in your stomach, pinching it every once in a while as you moved your hips trying to avoid his warm hands. “So, you’re Satan?” He pulled his hand away, rolling his eyes. “Of course, that’s what you would say...” he pushed his slick hair back situating himself in the chair near your bed. “Whichever you prefer, however, the lilt the name Jimin has is something I’m quite fond of.”

It was distracting trying to listen to him as his fingers slapped your cunt once more, forcing you to hold your breath. You tried your best to limit your reactions, trying to not feed into his ego as you were already held captive and bound. Whether he was lying or not, you had to at least play safely around him. His hands travelled towards your thighs, quietly observing the way you would react. The way you would shiver every moment he inched up closer to your weeping vulva. “You’re such fragile creatures, y/n.” Closing your eyes as you felt him inch closer, his breath fanned over your clavicle. “Fragile enough to be tempted by the devil himself, aren’t we?” You whispered in his ear, breath shaking as his skin came in contact with yours. He let out a laugh, hands flying towards your needy breasts as he drew lines with his finger. “That’s a common misconception, darling.”

His eyes failed to meet yours as he continued to harvest reactions and small almost undetectable movements from your body. He was left in awe with the way you responded, shivers ran up and down your spine, breath hitching, the small goosebumps that formed, you were intriguing. “The devil doesn’t tempt you. You imbeciles try so hard to find someone to accuse of your haughty little actions. May I remind you, you’re in control.”

“Well, not right now.” His dark eyes held fire within them as he found yours, gaze burning holes in your body as you finally stopped resisting. There was something about the way he talked, the way he felt so close to you, the way he focused on you and you alone. You felt something from deep within you combust.

“You do everything just to avoid responsibility for your own actions, tell me, y/n. How does it feel to become powerless now that you’re here?” You closed your eyes tight, toes curling as one of his fingers found your clit. His voice dropping octaves as he rolled the pads of his fingers against the wet bundle of nerves. Your eyes rolled back as your limbs rattled the chains in protest.

“Is there a flush of regret? Maybe a hint of happiness because you’re a masochist? Tell me,” you shook your head, still refusing to fall into his hands as he moved faster. Failure to elicit sound lead to a sudden halt in his movements, a whine would emanate from your lips, before he started to move his fingers once more. A sexual punishment where you never reach the peak, a mixture of annoyance, pleasure and humiliation bubbled inside you.

“Your mouth shuts itself off, doesn’t it?” Fingers moving lower, and lower, and lower, finally penetrating your hole as your lips parted. Slick coating it before accepting it with the warmth of your unexplored cavern, he let out a sigh out of satisfaction. You were clueless, you had no idea when you had become this wet, but you were thankful for the penetration. Sighing, you pushed yourself towards his finger as you tried to reach for more, to push him even further inside you. “Oh my,” he was amused, laughing at the humiliating actions you made just to feel more of him.

“Humans tend to break so easily. This time around, I’d be honoured to tell you that maybe I did tempt you. But all I did was fuel the sexual drive you had, nothing more.” You tried to shut him off, your hips grinding harder against the single finger deep within you. Moaning ever so silently, desperate to climax on your own. He remained motionless, doing nothing to help you. You were eager to feel the knot inside your stomach unravel before him. “I wish you’d see how pathetic you look, y/n.” Still you didn’t stop, tears rimmed your eyes as you tried to chase something far away from you. You felt yourself moving closer to the edge, the lack of stimulation from both your clit and your insides had been nothing but excruciating.

Despite the many whines you let loose, he still wouldn’t budge. He left you fending for yourself as the rough spot from within you begged for any form of contact. His fingers were deep enough, but due to the restraints you weren’t able to angle yourself to the perfect position. Hence, his fingers danced around the spot, never touching it. Absentmindedly pushed yourself, you never reached what you had been searching for. The corners of your eyes were starting to fill up with tears due to the pent up frustration that’s been keeping you grounded. Jimin watched in amusement, one of his eyebrows perked upwards as he let his smile loose.

“I c-can’t.” Your elbows were shaking, using them as leverage in order to get into the angle you needed in order to push yourself. In the end, you were nothing but a puddle of your own arousal and sweat. “Please, just— move,” your words were nothing but a whisper, but he heard your pleas. After all, the Devil was always listening.

“Let’s get things straight, y/n. I’m not here to ask you for repentance, you’re beyond that point. You’re here for punishment, not for pleasure.” The tears finally managed to escape your eyes, crying as you did your best to get off. However, with your lack of mobility plus his unforgiving form of punishment, you grew more impatient and far more frustrated. “Please, please, please...” you begged, pleas growing far more silent as seconds passed by. He huffed, pulling has hand away as you uncontrollably shook your head in protest. He grabbed a handkerchief, wiping his finger diligently. “Begging won’t do anything, darling. The devil never settles for bare minimum.”

Maybe it was the touch he cared to give you earlier, maybe it was how the wind carressed your bare figure, you didn’t know which one it was that put you in this situation. You normally had a lot of self control, why were you fallinng apart? The warmth from within you slowly crawling out of your skin in forms of tiny little droplets of precipitation, your breathing came in small gasps, neck craning as you followed the man claiming to be the devil himself. “You want this to be over, just so you could go home... Normally, that would mean I’d finish my business with you, blah, blah, blah... But I’ll need something a little more straightforward. Something I could take as a green flag.” his pearly white teeth appeared right in front of you, smiling in a mocking way. “I’ve got all eternity y/n.” he crossed his legs as he sat down the chair. Opening a bottle of wine, and pouring himself a generous glass.

Thunder rumbled from the outside, and once again the floor shook. Jimin was amused with the way you moved in the bed. Your eyes calculating possible escape routes, as they glossed over the entire room. The sound of the chains echoed in the empty room, repeatedly yanking on them in a small attempt to at least get them off of you. Letting out a huff the moment you realised that this was getting you nowhere. Your little hole was twitching from the cold air that surrounded the entire area, reaching your nipples making them hard once again. Hearing him drink the glass of wine he poured himself had driven you over the edge, somehow, it managed to reflect something so carnal.

You whined in frustration, it was obvious enough that at least one of your worries needed to be eased. “I’ll need words, I’d never hear the end of it if you don’t consent.” Raising your brows up in curiosity, the devil took a step, rising above you with the wine glass directly on top of you. “God might get pissed at me, circumstances like that... Honestly, if his disciples made me look so bad in their little book, I might as well play the part.” He shrugged, talking to himself as he inhaled the scent of the alcoholic beverage. His mere presence tempting you as your vulva weeped for more, shivering against the cold gust of air, in the midst of talking to you, he accidentally tipped over the glass, spilling a little bit on your stomach.

The liquid was enough to send a jolt running through your body. “Goodness me,” he muttered as he grabbed a piece of cloth from his coat pocket. Wiping it down, moving towards the direction of your cunt, wiping a little bit of the wetness off. You whimpered unintentionally, “you were messing the sheets.” he scrunched his nose towards your direction. You tried your best to close your legs, chains producing more noise, before you finally gave in. “Please, use me. I need you.” It happened quickly, Jimin’s ears were trained and hadn’t missed a best. He raised his brows, glass long forgotten, setting it aside. “A little louder please,” a tone danced with his voice, as if the excitement finally had erupted from within him. “Use me as you will, please.” It wasdegrading, but it was worth it when you felt him squeezing in two of his delicate fingers. Pushing past your walls, finally gaining the courage to breach further and dwell deeper inside of you.

You arched your back, the desperation had finally reached you. “Fuck me,” you silently whispered, his palm hitting your tiny bundle of nerves, as he continued to pound his fingers against you. “Look at your little cunt,” he was astonished, the way your tight walls enveloped his fingers, it would restrict him from spreading his fingers apart. “You must have a sinful mind, I’ve barely done anything to you, and yet, here you are.” His eyes widened as he smiled, a small ember flame growing larger, reflecting his heightened need for sexual attention. He was getting far more excited as he felt your walls grow wetter, and even tighter. He could feel your orgasm coming, the way your short gasps would erupt from your mouth, how your stomach moved in an attempt to ease the knot you feel inside of you, the way your legs shaked, with the noise of your restraints moving against the bed posts. “Faster,” and yet, you howled for more. He tore his gaze away from your dripping vulva, observing the way your face would contort.

The way your mouth was left agape, how small lines appeared from beside your eyes as you shut them tightly, how your neck tilted, exposing flesh he’s desperate to mark. And so, you came undone. The pleasure rippled from your core, reverberating throughout the expanse of your body. Your legs quivered in a desperate attempt to close your legs.

He let you ride your high, finally, pulling his fingers away. “Open wide, y/n. I’m teaching you how you must clean up after yourself.” He laughed at his own comment, happily obliging you opened up for his fingers. Sucking off remnants of your arousal, not minding the salty taste of your release, indulging. “For a human in hell, you’re quite decent. You know how to follow orders,” he pulled his fingers away with a pop, being the diligent man he was, he cleaned his fingers with the same handkerchief he used earlier. Discarding the fabric, letting it flop in the table.

“Such a pretty little figure. A shame humans had gotten their hands on you,” he bit his plump lips, walking slowly from one side to another as he watched your naked figure. Presented in a way so delicately, so small, and yet your eyes burned with a far cry from innocence. He could break you, have you begging for his dick all night long, but he too had limits. Just with how tight his pants felt, he knew at least by the next few hours he needed to be inside of you. Your lustful gaze never left his figure, the scent that erupted from your sex had been too intoxicating that even the finest wine couldn’t compete. You were far too precious to be laying down here, all prepped up just for him and no one else.

The area below you slowly sunk down, informing you that someone had occupied the empty space. The heat that emanated from his body was noticeable, but it was nothing unusual. The pads of his fingers danced around your face, holding your jaw tightly as he forced you to look up to him. You held your breath as you waited for his next move. His hand trailed downwards, finally giving your soft mounds the attention that they deserved. Perky nipples greeting him once more, flicking his finger against one of them just so he could hear your moans once again. Giving the other a harsh slap, quickly turning in a shade of red due to the sensitivity of your skin. “How should I have my way with you, y/n?” Although he addressed you, you were certain he’d been talking to himself as he experimented with your body.

Hands moving south as he drew circles on your stomach, your cunt managed to produce more wetness, making it look like an appetite underneath the single lightbulb from the room. Leaning down as he gave the area just above your pussy a small quick peck, before inhaling your scent. Closing his eyes as he tried his best to imprint the unique smell only you could make. “You’re a fucking sin, y/n. You’re the embodiment of everything unholy,” he found the area between your legs the most enticing to him. For the first time tonight, he let himself have you. He let himself fall under your temptations.

You felt butterflies, the juices you released finally had purpose. No longer discarding the liquid you brewed for him. Maybe it was the validation that he, too, wanted you, the humiliation that even the devil didn’t want to have a piece of you was beginning to eat you away. One quick flick of his tongue was enough to erase any harsh feelings. His lips wrapped around your clit as your mouth did their best to put emphasis on the two syllables that represented his name.

Just as quick as it had happened, he was pulling away. Slowly prying the buttons open to his shirt, coat long discarded in the ground as he gave you an exclusive show. The way his biceps would flex in front of you. His chest moving along with his harsh breathing. Never missing the way his shoulders would move, and how the veins would protrude as he discarded his clothing. Soon followed his belt, the latch hooking against the chain, making it pull on your leg slightly, reminding you how bare you were in front of him. Gently pulling the zipper down as his huge dick finally showed itself. Sporting a few tattoos here and there, as he threw the last of his garments somewhere across the room. You bit your lips, as you unconsciously moaned just when you take in everything presented to you. Your breathing grew far more harsh.

You took in his entire figure. His dick long enough to go past his belly button, thick enough to make his hands look very small. His tip was glistening with precum, tiny droplets that glowed, licking your lips as all you could do was fantasise about drinking him all up. You didn’t really expect that he’d be merciless with you, but when you felt his presence right above you, and his tip just below your lips. You opened your mouth greedily, moving your head forward, eager to finally have him down your throat. “Well aren’t you a good little bitch,” he muttered under his breath as he held your hair with a makeshift ponytail. Pulling onto it as he moved forward. “Open wider, darling. You and I both know I’m not gonna fit,” chuckling as he continued to instruct you.

He held your head in place as you opened your mouth as wide as you can, slowly he entered you. Your teeth barely missed his length, experimenting as you moved your tongue below his shaft, loving the way you could easily make him moan. He was sensitive. “Good grief,”

He pulled back out, your greedy lips encasing him in, just as his tip was about to leave your mouth. Your mouth was left agape as your eyes followed the direction of his tip, finally close enough just so you could kiss it, licking a stripe as you tasted his precum. Sighing out of satisfaction as you bobbed your head even further down. He was barely halfway in when you felt him hit the back of your throat. “You’re greedy aren’t you?” He pushed himself even further down, making your body jolt due to the sudden movement. “Avid little mouth sucking me just back in, you’ve barely prepared yourself and yet here you are, sucking my cock like a fucking whore, letting me hit your throat.” You tried to nod, however the obvious intrusion didn’t allow you.

Your tears welled up, as you tried your best to make him proud of you. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath as he felt your tight throat constricting around him. Quickly he was pulling away, your lips had remnants of his precum, mixed with your own saliva as you held your mouth open for him to inspect. Your eyes shed tears due to how deep he went inside of you. Lashes turning heavy as droplets of tears continued to house themselves there. You were breathing heavily. “The devil isn’t usually rewarding, but I’ll make an exception for you.” Another shift in your positions as he stood up. Proudly walking around with a body sculpted by the greatest sculptors, his back muscles to tight, his sweat doing him justice making every single part of him far more contoured, emphasising every movement he made as he was finally setting himself in between your legs.

You pulled onto your chains, as you desperately wanted to hold onto him. His hair was barely covering his eyes as he watched you in amusement, his dick in hand as he positioned it against your cunt. “Let me touch you please, Jimin.” You winced at your own voice, rough and coarse as it reminded you of the previous events. You rattled the chains even louder this time, you could feel the underside of his dick grazing your cunt, making you moan as he reached forward freeing both of your hands. You were quick enough to hold onto his neck, “this doesn’t seem like I’m punishing you, I’m just drinking you in at this point, y/n.” You shut him up with a kiss, letting him taste himself. You were too distracted to even notice him positioning himself, and with one quick piston of his hips, he went balls deep inside you.

You broke the kiss apart, the devil looking at you with a smirk in his lips as he gave you no choice but to willingly accept all of his harsh thrusts. You were desperately searching your head for anything coherent to say, but you were knocked out of words. Thrusting harshly as all you could do was moan just below him, yelling his name every once in a while as you felt him hit a familiar spot deep within you, legs shaking as you did your best to keep up with his pace. He held your hips in place, as he continued to pound inside you like a savage. The occasional grunts that left his mouth would continue to echo in your head, giving you fuel to push yourself harder.

“A cunt like yours deserves to be in hell. You’re a freak, y/n.” His deep voice growled against your ear, his gruff voice bringing you back to earth. You felt your sanity drift away from you due to the deep and harsh stroked. Dick carving its’ way through far deeper, able to hit the entrance of your cervix, you were almost certain he’d be marking it as his territory too due to the repeated blows his dick gave.

“God, Jimin,” you muttered upon reaching your second orgasm for tonight. Your breath hitched, toes curling alongside the rise of your body against the soft sheets. He only pushed in deeper and harder, emphasising his presence. “We’re still calling onto him aren’t we?” He moved his hips far harsher this time, hitting your spot. Your vision turned white from the feeling of overstimulation, as if the first orgasm never really stopped, you felt yourself forming another knot from within your stomach. “You pathetic little brat, you should be calling onto me, not him. Tell me, is he the one making you feel this way?” His words were hard to understand as each one of them were emphasised by a harsh roll of his hips, balls smacking, managing to graze your clit with his own skin, as his dick carved itself inside of you. “N-no,” you tried to be obedient, but it was hard when all you felt was the way he was marking you as his territory. “Then who is, y/n? Tell me,” a dark chuckle escaped his plump lips as he bit himself, watching you from below him with hooded eyes.

“Fucking answer me!” He growled, choking you while he continuously pounded inside of you. “Y-you are, Jimin. Fuck!” Colours danced in your eyes, closing them shut due to too much pleasure. As if he wasn’t deep enough, he pushed even further. As if asking your cervix for entrance, acceptance, manhood pounding against it’s doors as you let out a pained moan. Not once did you ever expect you’d be having a dick this big. “That’s right, you’re all mine. Aren’t you?” His hands grew a little more tighter, yelling out your response with a hoarse voice. “I’ll make sure anyone who dares to fuck you next knows,”

“Carving the shape of my dick in your velvet walls,” he was inhuman, yes he was far from being a human. The way he still continued to pound you whilst speaking without a single stutter, how he’s held out his own release even after having his dick sucked. “You like that don’t you?” Encapsulated in your own little bubble as you desperately reached for more oxygen, all you could do was nod at him. “You’re my personal fucking slave, y/n.” With each words he pushed himself deeper, grinding on your g-spot repeatedly, the pleasure was unlike what you’ve felt before. It was pure, something that only the devil could make you feel.

“And I don’t like sharing.” A kiss in your forehead was all that you got before he finally came undone. Alongside the knot you’ve been holding onto for a while, your juices mixed. You felt him pull out, followed by a trail of your mixed essence. He tilted his head in amusement, using one of his fingers to feel the creamy substance that erupted from your vulva. “You did well. I’m quite surprised, you’re a special little bitch, y/n.” Too tired to even form a coherent response you closed your eyes and looked away from him. His words began to sound more fuzzy in your head, the sound of the shower filling in the silence.

A gentle touch on your forehead woke you up, it was his lips kissing you goodbye. “I’m afraid I’ll have to go,” he pulled his slacks back up, buttoning up his shirt, concealing the tattoos and hiding his heavenly body. “To where?” Your voice would almost sound pitiful, he carded his fingers through your hair before standing up and wearing his coat. “Doing God’s work, I suppose.” He grabbed the comforter before encasing you in, your sore legs finally able to close themselves as the sound of his leather shoes hitting the wooden floors slowly dissipated. “I’ll do my best to meet you soon. Please, do enjoy your stay in Hell.”

#Bts #bts smut #bts imagine #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts x reader #jimin #park jimin #bts imagines #bts x you #jimin imagine

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soren-bleu-kun · 3 years

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Fic Wrap Up.

*feel free to ignore this if I tagged you

This is going to be my own fic wrap up, my first one ever because this was the birth of my Ao3 account, so all of my fics are from this year. I’ll try to keep things concise, but it’ll still be pretty long. I will do this in the form of a Read More after the first few fics. There are over 90, I’ll try to go alphabetically.

All of them are from the same fandom, BnHA, so that’s nice. More gen fics, less romance. Most of them are for series, events, other people’s aus - and I’ll make sure to share all of that when I share each fic, especially because some of the events are probably repeats and this is a little bit like free marketing [only tagging them once because that would get obnoxious, especially for the weekly event things I did]. Other than that, I hope you all enjoy and may 2021 suck slightly less.

Heads up for angst, whump, some ships, and manga spoilers

A Breathing Silence - Gen, 3K. Shirakumo survives his internship, but at the price of his hearing. His friends do their best to help him through it [for @badthingshappenbingo]

A Common Room Conversation - Gen, 2K. Midoriya realizes that he has some questions for his mentor during winter break. [for @tunafishprincess’ Dads For Deku Week that I still need to finish, whoops]

A Confession and A Dance - TodoDeku, 4K. Midoriya and Todoroki just going to the school dance as friends doesn’t last very long

After Hours - ShinDeku, 1K. Model Shinsou goes on his first date with a photographer he works with sometimes, and worries that he’s going to be horrifically awkward about it [for OTPtober run by DigitalPopsicle, AU by. @amandasmurfee]

Amend - EraserMight, 1.5K. Yagi and Aizawa have been arguing for the last few days. Aizawa finds himself forgiving his partner in order to help him. [for @erasermight-week]

Bedside Manner - EraserMight, 2K. Yagi ends up in the hospital and hopes for better days [for @/erasermight-week]

Bravery Test - DustBunny, 2K. Though the two aren’t together in this one, this fic features hero student Tenko Shimura having a crush on his much cooler classmate, Rumi Usagiyama. [for DustBunny Week on Twitter]

Broken Glass - [FAN FAVORITE] Gen, 1K. A young Keigo Takami finds himself wandering the streets of Musutafu in this fic where he seems to have glitched through time [for @/hawksweek2020]

Can’t Say No - CloudMic, 2K. Despite the fact that Yamada hates the beach, he can’t help but agree to go when his crush asks him [for CloudMic Week on Twitter]

Caramel Coffee & Phone Numbers - [FAN FAVORITE] ShinDeku, 1K. This fic features an AU where instead of going to UA at all, Shinsou ends up as a barista [for @shindekumonth]

Codependence - EraserMic, 1K. Yamada realizes that he feels unfulfilled in his relationship but doesn’t know how to leave. [for @whumptober2020]

Concerns and Collapse - Gen, 1K. Yagi is ignoring his health because of his hubris and it doesn’t end well [for @/badthingshappenbingo]

Chronic - [FAN FAVORITE] ShinDeku, 1.5K. Midoriya is ignoring his pain because he has homework to do. Shinsou is having none of it [for @/whumptober2020]

Date Night - ShinDeku, 1K. As pro heroes, they don’t get a lot of time to spend together. Might as well do what they can [for @/shindekumonth]

Disguises - Gen, 1K. In an AU where Tokoyami does end up being taken alongside Bakugou, Todoroki feels responsible for getting him back

Foggy Recollection - Gen, 2K. In a world where Shirakumo lives but Aizawa ends up dying at USJ, he and Yamada are just trying to pick up the pieces [for CloudMic Week on Twitter]

Forgotten Birthday - Gen, 1K. When Sero breaks his record of perfect attendance with no explanation, Aizawa goes to figure out if something is wrong [for @dadzawa-week-2020]

For the Morning - [FAN FAVORITE] ShinDeku, 1K. Shinsou knows that he shouldn’t have snuck into his boyfriend’s dorm room for morning cuddles, but he couldn’t help himself [for OTPtober on Twitter]

Good Morning, Koda - Gen, 1K. Aizawa recognizes the anxiety in one of his students, and goes about trying to help quietly [for @/dadzawa-week-2020]

Go Fish - Gen, 1K. Aoyama doesn’t spend a lot of time with people, but for Midoriya he’ll make an exception [for @dekusquadweek]

Gravel and Back Alleys - Gen, 2K. Shigaraki doesn’t understand why a hero keeps letting him go. Guess he’ll just have to find out for himself [personally not too proud of this one, heh] [for DustBunny Week on Twitter]

Harmonizing Colors - [FAN FAVORITE] EraserMight, 1K. When Yagi finds his emotions not acting the way he wants them to, he knows that he has to find another outlet - and to keep it a secret [for @/erasermight-week]

Indecision - TodoChako, 2K. Todoroki knows that he shouldn’t be fornicating with the enemy in this future au, but he can’t help himself. He misses her [for TodoChako Week on Twitter]

In the Grey - [FAN FAVORITE] Gen, 1K. Midoriya finds himself going home to an empty house, feeling rather cold [for @/dekusquadweek]

In the Rain - CloudMic, 2K. After the national hero rankings let out, Shirakumo and Yamada find their way home has been kind of ruined and have to walk together to the train station [for CloudMic Week on Twitter]

In the Teacher’s Lounge - EraserMight, 1K. Aizawa and Yagi spend some time together after classes [for OTPtober and based off of this art by @theoutspokenrodent]

Last Word - [FAN FAVORITE] ShinDeku, 1K. Midoriya has hanahaki and never had the chance to tell Shinsou [for @/shindekumonth]

Late Night Chamomile - Gen, 1K. Yaoyorozu is having a hard night and her teacher doesn’t want to leave her alone with the nightmares [for @/dadzawa-week-2020]

Lessons in English and Subtlety - CloudMic, 2K. Shirakumo is having a hard time focusing on his work with Yamada right there [for CloudMic Week on Twitter]

Light the Candles, Not the Cake - EraserCloud, 1K. Aizawa forgot that it was Shirakumo’s birthday in this AU where he lives, and he’s hurrying to make up for it [for OTPtober]

Little Blue Teacups - Gen, 1K. Todoroki needs some help getting rid of something and he asks Uraraka for help [for @/dekusquadweek]

Locked Up - Gen, 1K. Shinsou likes hiding himself away, which is great until he finds a place he can’t get out of [for @/shindekumonth]

Looking Out - Gen, 6K. Aizawa starts looking out for Yagi when he finds out that the man is being stalked and it brings out some of his darker side [written because an event rejected me! Thanks guys, this has the most comments out of every fic I’ve ever written! Also for @/badthingshappenbingo]

Lying Together - EraserMight, 1.5K. Yagi and Aizawa learning how to operate together in all things, but especially sleep [for @/erasermight-week]

Middle of the Night - Gen, 1K. Just something about Iida checking in on Midoriya [for @/dekusquadweek]

Missing Gears - EraserMight, 10K. In an AU where Yagi never gets OFA, he becomes a support course student, who later in life works with Aizawa - an old high school friend [for @erasermight-bigbang]

Nana’s Cape - Gen, 2K. In a role swap au, Tenko Shimura is trying to find his grandmother’s cape, taken by villains just to mess with him [for DustBunny Week on Twitter]

New Directions - Gen, 1K. Giran finds a young Touya Todoroki on the street and decides to help the kid out

Not the First to Say - Gen, 1K. Todoroki finds Yaoyorozu the night before her birthday, feeling down. They have a talk. [for @todomomoweek2020]

Ocean Air - Gen, 3K. Todoroki has never stepped foot into the ocean to and he’s got some thoughts abut it [for TodoChako Week on Twitter]

Old Memories, New Rivals - Gen, 1.5K. In which Shinsou remembers a young Midoriya [for @/shindekumonth]

One Night Off - ShinDeku, 1K. For once these two pro heroes have time for each other without forcing it to happen [for OTPtober]

On Repeat - Gen, 1K. Shirakumo has been reliving the same day over for forever, and is finally just waking up [for @/whumptober2020]

On the Battlefield - Gen, 1K. Dabi stops someone from bleeding out, just in case he needs them later

Over the Phone - EraserMight, 1.5K. Aizawa has a hard time falling asleep without Yagi there with him [for @/erasermight-week]

Painful Decisions - TodoMomo, 1K. On their anniversary, Yaoyorozu realizes she doesn’t actually love him [for @/todomomoweek2020]

Prom Night - CloudMic, 2K. Shirakumo and Yamada skip out on their special night at school to have a special night for the two of them [for CloudMic Week on Twitter]

Promise - EraserCloud, 1K. Aizawa gets hurt and doesn’t tell Shirakumo

Proposal - EraserCloud, 1.5K. Wedding night for Aizawa and Shirakumo, just some softness

Rough Patrol - EraserCloud, 1.5K. Aizawa gets hurt during patrol and doesn’t warn Shirakumo until later

Rubble - Gen, 1K. Yagi watches his successor bury himself in rubble, and despite the fact that the boy is a pro hero now, he can’t help but go off and try to find him [for @/badthingshappenbingo]

Ruining Movie Night - EraserMic, 1K. Sometimes Aizawa just needs to let his emotions out, and sometimes he doesn’t know when that’s going to happen [for @/whumptober2020]

Running on Empty - Gen, 2K. Uraraka forgot to get food before Todoroki showed up for a study session and she’s hungry

Sapporo Snow Festival - Gen, 1K. Todoroki runs into Yaoyorozu when he wasn’t expecting it but it ends surprisingly well [for @t/odomomoweek2020]

Scientifically Proven to be Pointless - Gen, 1K. AFO as a young lad, trying to help his younger brother with his illness [for AFOtober, run by AFOzine on Twitter]

Scrambled Eggs - CloudMic, 2K. When Aizawa dies, Shirakumo and Yamada go through with making an agency [for CloudMic Week on Twitter]

Sitting in the Rain - Gen, 1K. Sometimes Tsu likes to sit in the rain. Today she doesn’t have to sit alone [from @aconstantstateofbladerunner’s list of prompts found here]

Small Grievances - Gen, 1K. When Aizawa dies, the rest of the rooftop gang mourns [for @/whumptober2020]

Snow and the Kitchen Drawer - Gen, 1K. Sometimes Yamada hates himself for choices he didn’t make [for CloudMic Week on Twitter]

Something Like Eisoptrophobia - Gen, 1K. There’s this little fear that the Voice Hero has never gotten over before [for @/whumptober2020]

Studying Together - TodoMomo, 1K. In this College AU, Todoroki hates biology. At least right now he isn’t going through it alone [for @/todomomoweek2020]

Stumbling - Gen, 1K. Midoriya runs into Shinsou at a hero con [for @shindekumonth]

Sunday Morning - [FIST FIC] EraserMic, 1K. Just something soft for two pro heroes on a rainy day

Surprise Call - A young Shigaraki is glad to hear from AFO, as rare as it might be [for AFOtober]

Tensei’s Meal - Gen, 1K. In the aftermath of his older brother getting hospitalized by the hero killer, Iida has to be reminded to eat [for @dadzawa-week-2020]

The Aftermath - EraserMight, 1K. After Nighteye dies, Yagi has some feelings he has to process [for @/erasermight-week]

The Business Card - ShinMono, 1K. In this College AU, Shinsou is just trying to ignore the noises of other people in the dorms and runs into someone quite eccentric [for @shinmonoweek]

The Car Ride - Gen, 1K. Shinsou getting out of therapy and being absolutely exhausted [for @/dekusquadweek]

The Last Halloween - Gen, 3K. A surprisingly soft DFO story from when Midoriya was little [for @/tunafishprincess’ Dad For One Halloween event]

The Little Matryoshka Doll - Gen, 1K. From a time when they were younger, a small Yaoyorozu looks for her little friend at an adult party, not knowing that something’s happened to him [for @/todomomoweek2020]

The Nightly Watch - Gen, 1K. Eri has had some nightmares so Aizawa is staying with her for a bit [for @/dadzawa-week-2020]

The Pause Button - EraserMic, 1K. Yamada gets injured while working and can’t talk for a few days

The Waiting Room - [FAN FAVORITE] Gen, 2K. When Yagi ends up in the hospital and Midoriya goes to see him, he runs into Tsukauchi in the hospital [for @/tunafishprincess’ Dads for Deku event]

They Were Roommates - ShinCahko, 9K, ongoing. Shinsou and Uraraka ended up becoming roommates because of the cheap rent and it has some unforeseen consequences [for @shinchakoweek]

Things Will Get Better - ShinDeku, 1K. Midoriya loses something vital to him and Shinsou is there to help him [for @/shindekumonth]

Three Little Rings - EraserCloudMic, 5.5K. Shirakumo wants to propose to his partners but he doesn’t know how it would work for them [for CloudEraserMic Week on Twitter]

Through the Haze - EraserMight/EraserCloud, 1K. Aizawa starts seeing things when he gets too sick and Yagi doesn’t have the heart to correct him [for @/whumptober2020]

Under the Maples - Gen, 1K. Shinsou was just planning on going for a bike ride, not running into weird hero course kids [for @/shinmonoweek]

Under the Same Roof - Gen, 1K. Once upon a time, the original OFA user and his brother lived in the same house and things were very tense [for AFOtober on Twitter]

Waiting to Say Hello - Gen, 1K. In an alternative universe where Hawks has anxiety, his meeting with the number one hero goes a little differently [for @/hawksweek2020]

Winning the Bet - [FAN FAVORITE] Gen, 2K. When Yamada is forced to make a bet about who he thinks will break first during finals week, he doesn’t admit that he’s actually won [for @/tunafishprincess’ Dads for Deku Week event]

Visiting Hours - Gen, 1K. Villain Todoroki finds himself going to see an old friend of his during a snowstorm [for @/todomomoweek2020]

Walking Back - EraserMight, 1.5K. When Yagi thinks that Aizawa looks too tired to get back to the dorms on his own, he does his best to help him. It ends with a bit of a shock [for OTPtober]

Warranted Interruptions - Gen, 1K. Monoma and Aizawa don’t interact often, which is fine with the both of them - but that doesn’t mean that Aizawa can ignore when someone is hurting [for @/dadzawa-week-2020]

Winter Home - TodoMomo, 1K. Todoroki ends up going with Yaoyorozu on a family vacation and feels welcomed [for @/todomomoweek2020]

I hope you guys like them, and thanks for taking the time to read all the way down here, if you did. This took most of the night, ha. If you read any of them, I’d love like... a kudos. Statistics bring me down, you, so keeping the 1 : 10 ratio for more of these fics would be awesome

New Year’s Resolution : Write more Quality, not Quantity. More DadMight, maybe post some of my other longer stories. Don’t make every request something to post.

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sour-n-salty-citrus · 3 years

Note

Do you have any hopes for the season finale? I saw in another ask, you described the dynamic between rick and morty this season as "very weak, distant, and downright frankly boring" and I completely agree with you! I hope that, because this is most we'll see rick and morty interacting this season, it'll have at least a few moments of what makes their dynamic so interesting to watch.

(Ok i started airing my grievances with this season, which ended up being... long, so skip this paragraph (starting at / / /) to get to my thoughts on the finale)

Oh gosh I remember that ask (I think-). And yeah, maybe I'm being a bit overly critical. I'll probably look back on this season with retrospect, and a kinder, fonder view. Ik androgynousblackbox (think thats right) made a great point about it being the season FOR rickorty shippers. And sure, I agree on some bits, like Rick acting all pissy and partying the way you would if your ex got with someone new in the planetina ep. Overall though, i think my problem lies in that I was enjoying more individual moments than episodes themselves, especially the middle three. For example- Amortycan Grickfitti. Like, I really liked the idea of the Ship getting on a crazy adventure with Summer and Morty (and Chutback). I like the idea of a Beth-Jerry-Rick adventure. But put together, it's just kinda... meh? You know? I liked the first half of the Thanksgiving special... but it kinda dragged on after that. I get that they want to give other characters (particularly female ones) more attention, which is completely understandable and i encourage it(!) but I can't help but find it underwhelming. Like, Summer in the voltron ep was like- girl how are you STILL vying for Rick's attention! He's the worst! Haven't we done this already? (I will say though I ADORE how far Beth has come, props to her for continuing to seeing through her dad's BS. I was worried the character would relapse into a more typical s1/s2 Beth, and I'm glad she didn't). Some of these plots, funnily enough, seem more fitting of the comics (they actually had a voltron parody already). Fun and entertaining for two or three-something issues, not so much a 22 minute episode. i think most of my complaints come from the dynamic between our titular characters- ok, I know I'm very biased (I mean you can see it), but I came to the show primarily for their relationship. It doesn't even feel drama-fueled, just that they kinda... can't be arsed. I'm torn because on the one hand, they're unhealthily codependent and this separation is probably a good thing, but on the other... it doesn't feel natural? I'm not sure if that's the right word- it's like, season 4 had them practically joint at the hip, but all that's suddenly flung out the window. It just kinda feels like this "i got better things to do" vibe from both of them and its strange. The only time they both got a solo adventure (I'm classifying "solo" as an adventure where they spent a significantly large portion of time together, without the other family members) was in the sperm ep and Thanksgiving ep. And, well, in the Thanksgiving ep Morty felt like a side character in his own show, and the sperm ep... um. Yeah. I don't think it's AS bad as people were saying, but I was cringing the whole time (the second hand embarrassment for Morty was so strong I had to turn off the episode multiple times and return to it. It's just like- godammit MORTY). And I think there's good reason those two seemed to be the most disliked episodes overall. They're the ones RaM spend the most time together and it's... meh. Meh? Meh. I don't mean to say the season overall is bad (it has loads of good points, and its amazing for Smith family as a whole) just that if we're talking specifically about the dynamic between these two? Yeah, I wouldn't recommend a single episode from this season so far to use as an example of their relationship.

/ / /

There's one thing this season has been pretty good at, though. And it's showing us what happens when Rick is alone.

And that brings me to the finale.

"Who is Rick without Morty?"

Well... we already know the answer to that. Pathetic. Sad. Lonely.

This season has been phenomenal in humbling Rick. (And trust me I'm happy for it- every time someone beats the crap outta this shitty old man I'm like YES!!! IT'S WHAT HE DESERVES!). Ep 1 had his "nemesis" clearly besting him, ep 2 had Beth making constant digs (love her) and overall pointing out his extreme callousness and cruelty towards even himself(ves). Ep 3- when Morty shows interest in a girl and ditches him (like seriously it's not like he's moving out, chill) he immediately goes on a bender and develops a deep attachment to the first person he can (wearing yellow, funnily enough). Ep 4, he devotes himself to becoming an "honest man" for his new child, only for it to instantly be taken away from him. Ep 5 highlights how RICK is the asshole for making fun of and taking advantage of someone well-meaning and honest, if "simple", and how literally not cool that is. Ep 6 has his crazy rivalry with the president, and they both get smacked down a couple pegs for that. Ep 7 shows what happens when he allows himself to get carried away, and that he can end up driving everyone else away in the process (lucky they still wanted to save his ass when he needed them). And episode 8? Hooooo boy. Episode. 8. We see a direct parallel in Birdperson with Morty, and the whole "Rick and [insert] 100 years!" Rick has few people he cares about, arguably only one or two that he truly devotes himself to, but when he does, boy does he go HARD. We see younger Rick, optimistic, energetic, friendly and hopeful. And we see all of that crushed in minutes. Rick is desperate for a companion, someone to see the stars with. He needs someone there, someone he can trust and rely on to stay. Someone like Morty. So without Morty, who is Rick?

No one.

And the thing is, Morty doesn't need Rick anymore. Not like Rick needs him. In season 1, Morty was this bright-eyed kid who was new to the cosmos and the multiverse, who needed his grandpa there with him as they explored all these places together. But that's not him anymore. That's not them.

The promo has Morty using the portal gun to go somewhere w/o Rick's permission (i like to think it's boob world lol). It doesn't matter to me as much where he's going, as much as he's doing it alone. He doesn't just not need Rick there, he doesn't want him.

(Also correct me if im wrong but I've missed that sweet portal gun so much. I think the last ep was like- the first time this season we saw it).

Morty's response to Rick? "Replace me!". And wow. Wow. WOW. Morty doesn't give a FUCK! I think Rick thinks that because he's so smart, that he can offer so much, that Morty will come crawling back, and I don't think he will.

Hopes for the finale! Hmm. I mean, I definitely hope "evil" Morty makes a reappearance, haha. I think we all do tbh ;). I want to see some Morty development too, this season has been very Rick-centric (not that there's anything wrong with that!) so I wanna see what's in store for Our Boy. I really hope we get to see the Citadel again, and see the state it's in, but I doubt it. We know something super big is in store, it's just a question of what? Other hopes I have is some Summer + Beth action (please let them team up Im BEGGING) and Jerry too ahaha. I'd love if some other side characters made an appearance as well. Oh- I'm definitely expecting a dramatic cliffhanger at the end of the first half leading to the second half, with the kind of angsty music that leads into the credits (pls that shit is so good (OH WAIT imagine if it was like, for the damaged coda, but like- the chopin version or smth so it could be more subtle maybe bruhhhh)). Ok haha, maybe that's asking too much, the writers made it clear in the story train ep that they weren't gonna do that big dramatic showdown (... unless 👀). Oh, I'd also love some Premium Angst too, like someone getting kidnapped/nearly dying (like ACTUALLY nearly dying). These stakes better be so damn high I could spear a man on them! OH, also I remember androgynousblackbox (is that right? I hope it is) mentioned something along the lines that they could be driving Rick and Morty apart this season in order to have them come back together stronger than ever in an explosive finale, which, I'm strongly hoping for myself.

Thanks if you made it this far! If you have any thoughts on or hopes of your own for the finale please feel free to share! :D

#ohmygod im sorry #i rambled way too long #akdjsksaksn #someone needs to take this phone away #also AGAIN im not shitting on s5 as a whole i actually quite like it #its just the RaM dynamic thats lacking #but again that could be intention so ig we'll see #RaM #rick and morty #meta #?#long post #citrus speaks #oh wait i should probably tag to be safe #rickorty mention

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anoceaninthesun · 3 years

Text

Alright…

So…since I air my grievances with the fandom about some of the entitlement I come across as a fanfic writer, I feel like I should highlight some of the positives, too. Lately I admit I have been in a real rut with my writing, but specifically Naruto fanfiction. I have known for a while now when I’d be ready to walk away from actively writing for the fandom. But I really, really wanted to be able to bring all the fics I’m currently working on to their natural conclusions if nothing else. After both stress from both real life and negativity from the fanbase, I had just about had it. It was causing some serious writer’s block, to the point where I was having a hard time even remembering details I had put into the latest chapter. Let me tell you, that’s never happened. When it comes to plotting, my memory is long. So you can imagine how frustrated I was becoming with it all. Maybe the writing muses of the universe sensed that, because it’s sent some nice reviews my way, and I’m eternally thankful.

Maybe it really is too much to ask for nice comments all the time. People say “you put it out into the world, you can’t expect praise all the time!” But really, as noted, this is a free hobby, and hobbies should never be more stressful to partake in than the reasons people choose to find hobbies in the first place. Criticize me when you pay me.

When I delved into the world of fanfic I was younger…so much younger, and I instantly fell in love with the community and the nature of it. Fans just like little ol’ me were making free content for others to consume, with every pairing, genre, plot, and prose imaginable. It had me spellbound, and I decided one day, I’d like to contribute to fandoms I truly loved by becoming a fanfic writer. It took some time, it took some trial and error. I am aware that what I started out producing is very different from what I am capable of now, but I’m proud of the journey. And it doesn’t feel like I wasted time going on countless adventures with the characters I’d grown fond of, cheering and crying and everything else in between. In short, when I write fanfic, I don’t ask much. I just want to remember what it was like to be a kid who rushed home and felt that thrill back then.

I want to participate in writing fanfic for as long as I’m able, without having to force it. And if any of you out there are anything like how I was back then, maybe you’d like to keep feeling surrounded by that magic for as long as you can. Maybe you’re thankful you found whatever side of the fandom you ended up on, when you did, because it’s made life a little brighter ever since. It’s easier to remember that spark and hold it aloft when I can be surrounded by positivity. As simple as that. As I’ve said in the past, I know I can’t write the perfect story for everyone. I’m just trying to write the perfect story for myself and amuse whoever else wants to join me at the table. No one feels like facing ridicule, put downs, “disappointment”, or unsolicited hen-pecking just for doing what they love…Please try to take a five second pause and ask yourself if what you say to a fanfic writer is truly something you would want someone to say to motivate you to continue writing. Be honest. And if that question gives you pause, don’t send the comment. But thank you, thank you, thank you a thousand times to the people like those above who really do move me with their words. Thank you for embracing my style, my characterizations, respecting my pacing, all of it. It really is the BEST feeling to see lovely comments when you open your inbox.

#long post #my writing #joys of a writer #a stitch in time #but this goes for any/all my works #THANK YOU #to supportive and kind readers

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plush-rabbit · 4 years

Text

Bleeding Knees

Warnings: Religion (Christianity)

Word Count: 2.3K

Fandom: Obey Me

It's a restless night where no matter what you do, you can't sleep. You toss and turn and try to shut your eyes for the tiniest bit of sleep but it leads you nowhere, just limbs lost in blankets and a mind that wanders and lingers too much on unpleasant thoughts.

With a huff, you throw the blankets off, and slip into your slippers, the floor is steady underneath and doesn't alert your sleeping roommates. The door opens without a squeak and clicks softly when you close it. You walk around aimlessly, your fingertips tracing along the walls, your ears falling flat as you ignore the whisperings of paintings.

You lose yourself within this palace, the walls blend in together, paintings full of color and life make you hesitant to to watch and admire, knowing that they would scrutinize you and huff and puff.

The closer you get to the end of the hallway, the chiller it becomes. There's a gentle breeze that makes you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself, your hands rubbing down the sides of your arms for comfort and warmth.

You crane your head over the corner, spotting a balcony door open wide, curtains fluttering and creating ghastly shadows. There's a bubble of anxiety that starts to rise but your body has a mind if it's own, walking towards the open door and stepping onto the balcony.

You breathe in the fresh air, the cold air nips at your lungs, not ready for the change of temperature. Your brush your fingers against the mental railing, the obsidian railing shines, the intricate details are etched upon the metal.

The moon shines brilliantly above you. It's full, large carters visible with a light, warm yellow glow. Stars are visible, hidden for moments behind passing clouds, but shining just as bright when you look at them again.

"It's usually a clear night here. Sorry that you stayed up late for nothing," a gentle voice fills in the night chuckles.

You jump and turn your head. "Ah! Lord Diavolo! I-I'm so sorry," you quiet to a voice in a hush, your cheeks burn red. "I didn't mean to be awake at this hour, I just couldn't sleep." You try to keep his gaze but fall at the tip of his nose, clasping your hands behind your back you look at the open door. "I'll just be on my way," you mutter.

"Oh no. Don't go. You're free to look around." He stands next to you, his arms resting at his sides, bright golden eyes watching you. "I just wish you had asked. I wouldn't want you to get lost." He pauses, his lips form a smile and there's a twinkle in his eyes. "Again."

You let out a nervous laugh. "Right." You pause and force your jaw to unclench. "I just- It was late and I didn't want to disturb anyone."

He hums next you and shifts his gaze to the garden. "May I ask you something personal?"

You stare at him, an eyebrow quirked before you return your gaze to the front of you. "Of course."

He's silent for a while that you begin to wonder if he really didn’t have a question and just wanted to make conversation. In the short time that you’ve known him, you wouldn’t put it past him but then his voice fills the night. "Do you ever think about death?"

Your hands still above the railing. "All the time," you whisper, your fingers scratching the metal railing.

"Would you accept death?" His voice lowers to match yours, his posture straightens and eyes grow heavy.

"With open arms," you answer honestly. Your eyes glance to the side, and meet his for a second. "I feel as if you're threatening me, Lord Diavolo," you say, your tone both teasing tinged by a hint of fear on your words.

He chuckles. It's a nice sound, deep and rich. "I would never threaten you."

You nod, the smile that had been beginning to form falls and you're both left staring at the scenery in front of you. Your eyes make out the outline of a hedge, following the gentle curves of the art.

The silence that fills the air is light. The lanterns outside cast a soft orange glow, flickers of shadows dancing across the both of you, your shadows bleeding out into the night.

"Do you fear death?" You ask, breaking the silence.

There's a twitch of his eyebrows, his expression unreadable before it relaxes, a coy smile plays on his lips.

"No. I'll live longer than you can ever comprehend." Exhaustion laced his voice and for a second he appears older and much more tired. It’s a sight that makes your stomach churn. "Long lifespans make for great kings." He winks at you, a cheeky grin returning to his face.

"I'm sure you'll make a great king, Lord Diavolo." You stand up straight and let out a breath. The trees rustle in the night, branches looming over head.

"Why don't you fear death?" His voice cuts through the night, rushed and shaky.

You let out a thoughtful hum. Your posture slinking back down to rest against the railing as you try to find the right words. You open and close your mouth. Tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth and peeking out to wet your lips.

"I suppose," you start out, "humans- some humans have religion to turn to and I suppose that makes it easier to handle death."

"Do you turn to religion in your time of need?"

Your eyes narrow and gaze hardens. "No."

"Why is that?" He pries further, gentle prodding of the sleeping bear.

You stare at the sky, it's endless and vacant, ends at the horizon and full of stars and colors.

"Religion," you pause, the word heavy on our tongue, "is something that you're supposed to dedicate yourself to." Your stomach churns as you speak to the Lord. "You're supposed to bleed for God. To kneel and wail praises to the Lord- to God. You should scream and pray until your throat is hoarse and bleeding." You want to claw your throat. "There is no benevolent God. No God that you can pray to when you're sobbing in the middle of the night and trying to grasp for air. No, that God is hungry- aching to hear your prayers and sins- to whisper them in the night in hope for forgiveness. You're supposed to be willing to die, to rip out your heart, to claw your throat and offer God everything you own." Your throat is burning and it's getting harder to talk. "You have to beg on the floor like a dog, to kneel and give thanks for everything that you own. That that God," you spit out the word, "is holy and above, can do no wrong. That everything you have and are is because of them." You bark out a laughter. It's sharp and humorless. "Don't get me wrong. The minute you're different- the minute that you deviate from who you're supposed to be, that you cast aside God's little vessel, you're thrown away and told that you are nothing more. You're beaten until you're black and blue, until you're crawling and spitting blood, promising to everyone above, that you won't do it again because if you do, your spirit is going to hell. You'll be tortured and murdered above ground before you ever reach hell." Your teeth are bared and you're speaking through clenched teeth. Eyes sting with unshed tears. "You eat his body and drink his blood but that isn't enough to protect you. His body is bread and you have to rip it apart- dig your teeth in and bite. His blood is wine and it's bitter and burns your throat and you have to drink it all as it stains your insides." You look back at the Lord, golden eyes that shine too bright make you look. "We're told that demons are evil. Manipulative. That you'll do your best to whisper lies into us and pervert us." Your jaw clenches and fists tighten. "If we suffer, it's all because our faith wasn't enough." You don't have the courage to look him in the eyes so you stare at his medal, the light catches on it and it glimmers. "We're made to pay the church, we're forced to give money to a place while we're told God did everything for free. That he washed the feet of prostitutes when no one else would but the believers, his followers, will turn their nose up at the thought of getting near someone like that. They'll scowl and spit and yell, insults hurled and whispered all while they go back to church and sing and hold hands and talk about doing good." You take in a deep breath, the tips of your ears burn and your nails dig into your biceps. "We're supposed to suffer for God. To praise and pray and sob and bleed," your voice cracks and a warm brown hand twitches, fingers inching towards you. "We are dogs. Loyal and willing to die. Below our Master. On our knees until we bleed." Your whole body grows heavy, arms dangling over the railing. "We don't get to be who we want to be. We have to hide ourselves and pray for this wickedness to go away." You let out a breath that you hadn't realized that you've been holding in. "That's religion in the human world."

Tears burn in your eyes, a lump in your throat makes it hard to bread and bright red lines paint your arms. You turn around and lean on the railing, arms crossed in front of you as you try to regain your breathing.

"Not a very good relationship with religion I see." His voice whispers, holding no sarcasm or attempt at a joke- just pure, genuine curiosity.

You chuckle, it isn't totally devoid of humor. "Yeah." You nod your head. "Yeah, I guess you could say it's not a good relationship."

It's silent for a while after. Gentle breeze makes the hair on your arms stand and you think about asking where the breeze comes from but you hold your tongue.

It's comfortable. Two beings enjoying each other's company while one listens to the other and their relationship to the outside.There is a silent understanding- to no poke or prod.

Your words hang in the air, heavy yet light. Burning yet cold. You've gotten your grievance out and while in no way you are healed, the wounds open and bleeding, you feel lighter. Your shoulders don't carry a burden, your stomach has lost the everlasting knot, your head feels clear and your heart aches and wants to wail until you can't speak but you feel as if it's easier to beat.

"Not all religion is like that," you whisper. "In some you aren't condemned to a life of torture." You stand a bit taller and wipe your eyes.

"But you still believe in a God?" He asks, attention fully on you. You nod. "What God do you believe in then?" He turns to face you, a gentle smile and reassuring eyes urge you to explain.

"I believe in one that is just," you answer honestly. "One that doesn’t condemn every one who disobeys to a life of torture, one who loves and welcomes everyone." You look back at Lord Diavolo and grin. "It's silly to a demon, but to a human whose life goes by so quick but lasts so long, it's a nice comfort to have."

"Humans are very strange." He runs a hand through his hair, deshelving it in the process.

"Is that why you want relationships to strengthen between the three Realms?"

He nods. "It would be nice to interact freely." He smiles at you. "Even if not everyone is as passionate as you." He gives you a chuckle.

"Heh. Are you teasing me Lord Diavolo?"

He waves his hand and shakes his head. "Please, I appreciate the title but you're free to call me Diavolo. You aren't my subject." He grabs your hand gingerly in his. "You are my guest." He bows, lowering his gaze and meets your eyes, staring intently into them.

You can only hold his gaze for a second before you turn away, thankful that the orange glow casted by the lanterns on the walls will blend in with the pink that has begun to settle on your face. You shuffle and force out a yawn. "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll be heading to bed now." You pull your hand away from his and glass your hands together intertwining them and watching him rise back to full height.

The way his eyebrows quirk makes you sure that he doesn't believe your statement.

"Allow me to walk you back." He offers his hand towards you, his cape draping and falling off his shoulder.

You give him a gentle smile and place your hand in his.

The walk back to your room is silent, steps echoing in the empty corridors, paintings that come to life watch and try to peer out of the frame as you both pass by hand in hand. He squeezes your hand every so slightly, fingers rubbing along your knuckles. You smile softly whenever he does this, feeling a sense of bond grow between you.

You arrive at your room, the door still closed and silent inside. You both stand there, hands still collapsed tightly against one anothers. He clears his throat and you turn to face him. His eyes look deep into yours, full of an emotion that you can't place.

There's a moment that lasts for too long, with breaths being held and your palms starting to get clammy, where you can feel butterflies make a home in your stomach.

"Good night Diavolo." You smile at him and the name on your tongue makes your heart skip a beat.

He presses his lips against the crown of your head and bids you good night, his hand slipping out of yours with ease, his fingers dragging and committing the feel of your hand to memory.

Once he hears the door click behind him, he brings two fingers to his lips delicately and smiles softly.

#obey me diavolo #obey me lord diavolo #diavolo x reader #obey me imagines #obey me diavolo x reader #diavolo x mc #lord diavolo x mc #obey me #tw religion #tw christianity #im having thoughts #lowkey diavolo and mc #okay bye

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abbysfrenchbraid · 3 years

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Kissed by a Wolf - Chapter 10

Masterlist

The Yuletide begins and the reader is in awe at the traditions and celebrations. They finally speak to Eda again. A terrible incident occurs.

Thank you all for your support, I wish you all the best for 2021!

CW for alcohol and food consumption, blood, death/loss, open wounds, animal sacrifice.

Inspo pic by @classicnovaproductions

You woke up sore and cold the next morning, each muscle screaming at you as soon as you moved under the covers to feel around for Eivor. She was not next to you anymore. You sat up.

The room was empty, but there was a small note at the foot of the bed next to the curled up white cat. Birna rolled herself to the side when you reached out, expecting belly rubs, and you humbly obliged before finally grabbing the small piece of parchment. Next to it lay the small branch with dark red buds you had brought back from your walk yesterday.

My beautiful heather, my delicate dove, my strong, skilled warrior.

I received urgent message from a nearby village early this morning - they have been overrun by bandits and need our help. I took my men and hope to be back in time for the feast.

May the sun shine brightly on your face today and illuminate your spirit as the solstice blesses us all. Find Valka and join her in preparing the celebrations, she will take care of you. I leave my heart in your hands, keep it safe for me until I return.

Yours forever,

Eivor

You pressed the note and the branch to your chest. This was a love letter. A love letter from your rescuer, your suitor, your drengr , the woman who had devoted herself to you. No one had ever carried you the way Eivor did, literally and figuratively. You were sure now; she was the one for you. Tonight you would tell her. Tonight you would let her have you.

Energized and enthusiastic, you jumped out of bed and got dressed. You chose the beautiful dresses Eivor had bought you for your welcoming ceremony, the fabric a soft caress for your skin after days in prickly tunics and dirty pants on the training grounds. You combed out your hair, an easy task after Eivor had helped you detangle it in the bath.

Your thoughts wandered back to that evening in Valka’s warm tub, Eivor kneeling behind you and her soft fingers on your scalp. Her shaky breath on your forehead as you let your head fall backward, her quiet apologies for pulling on your hair, the water she poured over your head before stroking it with her big, warm hand.

Birna called you back to the present, giving you a judging look as you quickly put the comb down. You really were a lost case if a cat could make you all flustered and embarrassed about your feelings. Head over heels.

When you stepped outside, the sun really was shining down on you. The air was crisp and clear, the snow was glittering like tiny diamonds and everyone was already up and working. There was a gigantic pile of wood in front of the longhouse, people were hanging up decorations and candles everywhere, every house smelled like a different delicacy and you could hear singing in the longhouse.

You turned your back to the bustling village and made your way up to Valka’s cottage. She was crushing herbs in her mortar when you entered and let out a delighted sigh at your appearance.

“Y/N! You’re already dressed up, how wonderful! Will you help me today?”

“Good morning Valka. I am all yours.”

She shooed you around for the next few hours, binding together branches of pine and heather, making little bundles of incense and flowers, preparing things for the offering, and trying to teach you the songs that would be sung tonight.

“The winter solstice is my favorite day of the year,” she said, excitement in her eyes. “Everything that was dark will lighten up, everything that seemed dreadful and sad will show its good side, the days will get longer, the sun will shine brighter, we will feast and sing and laugh and forgive.”

“Forgive?”

“Yes, it is common in our clan to make your peace with the people you have quarreled with over the year, to give each other a new chance and let the returning sun melt away any resentment or hate.” She paused for a moment, then she gave you a side glance. “I think this could be an opportunity for you to speak to Randvi. Or to your friend, the lord’s daughter.”

You finished tying a knot around a bundle of herbs and wiped your hands on a rag.

“Do you think I need to? Randvi and I haven’t spoken in days, but there is no resentment left between us. And Eda seems to want to be without company.”

“No one truly wants to be alone. Besides, I do not think she was alone those last few days.”

You turned to her in surprise.

“What do you know?”

“Not much.” She smiled. “Randvi seemed less grey lately, less lonely and stone-faced. She is the one who gave Eda her freedom. I feel like they might have spent some time together.”

You had not thought of that, but she was right. Of course she was. Randvi had vanished for hours on end, leaving people asking for her all over the village since Eda was free, and she really did seem more cheerful. After all, they had a lot in common. Both instruments to their fathers’ politics, disregarded and to be married off for alliances. Both suddenly distanced from those they loved.

“I think you would do well to speak to Randvi and clear the air if you want to openly be with Eivor from now on.” The seeress gave you a knowing look and nodded. “Tonight is a perfect time to commit to this relationship.”

She took your hands into hers.

“I truly believe that you and Eivor are the perfect match. It would make me very happy to see you together.” She ran a hand through your hair. “Now, let me tame this mane for you, will you?”

You sat down obediently and Valka began to braid your hair, beginning with two small braids starting at your temple and running down and back along your hairline. A second braid on either side above the first one ran back the side of your head so only the top part of your hair was still free. Valka took some rosehip oil and massaged it into your scalp, then she took a wooden hairclip with a beautiful wolf carving and fastened it at the top of your head so your hair fell freely down your back without getting in your face.

Then she took some of the red powder she had used on you once already and dabbed it on your cheeks and lips.

“You look beautiful. Eivor will not be able to control herself.” Valka chuckled. You had to laugh, too. She had been so wise and mysterious, strange and stern when you had met her. Now you were joking and telling each other your secrets like actual close friends. It was so refreshing to not think about your every word and its consequences.

“Do you think so? Did you know she kissed me once already?” You looked down at your hands.

“I guessed it, but I knew you were still hurting after seeing her and Randvi together. You were right to make her wait. This way she knows you are serious about this and she can’t make any more mistakes.” She sighed and stared into the flames in the fireplace. “But I can assure you that Eivor would never hurt you or anyone purposely. She has a pure heart and by the way she looks at you, I can tell she will love and protect you until she takes her last breath.”

You folded your hands in your lap, your eyes still fixed on your fingers. How could anyone love someone this much? How did you deserve this, to be adored and cherished so purely and strongly?

“I will tell her tonight." Your voice was strong and unwavering now. "I am giving myself to her completely, no more hesitation and distance and uncertainty. I want to be hers.”

It felt like your heart was tearing itself apart in longing for Eivor. Now that she was gone, you could not wait to see her again, to feel her touch and hear her voice. Why had you waited so long? If only she was here right now, the things you would say and do…

“This night, the solstice, it has a special meaning. Special powers,” Valka interrupted your thoughts, “that can steer the course of the future.”

You shot her a questioning look. What was she hinting at? She gave you a smug smile.

“All I am saying is that a bond sealed during the solstice is charged with strength, luck, and resilience. Not only will the forging of the bond be… ecstatic, but it will have a lasting impact.”

Oh. She was talking about more than just telling Eivor you were hers. Your cheeks were burning now. Valka patted your hand and started looking for something on her large, cluttered table. Then she found a small tin and opened it to reveal the red paste that had stained your skin the night of your welcoming ceremony.

“Free your back for me, will you?”

You slipped out of your dress and crossed your arms to cover yourself. Valka dipped her digit into the mixture and gently began drawing on your warm skin. She seemed to write sigils, beginning at the back of your neck and then wandering down your spine, leaving a straight line of runes all the way from your head to your hips. Then she stepped in front of you and you lowered your arms so she could draw another rune between your breasts. She let the paint dry on your skin while she made some tea and handed you a jug, then she took a wet cloth and rubbed off the remainders, leaving behind perfect shapes on your skin.

“There. Now you are more than prepared for tonight. This will set everything in place.” Valka looked very satisfied. You got dressed and finished your tea.

“You were right. I should speak to Randvi.”

Valka nodded, then she handed you the gigantic linen sack filled with branches and decorations.

“Carry these to the longhouse for me, dear. They will know what to do with them. It is a good thing, burying your grievances and forgiving. A wise move.” She squeezed your hand, then you heaved the sack over your shoulder and set out for the longhouse.

The way down was slippery and you almost danced with death a few times, but you always managed to catch yourself and finally arrived at the longhouse unharmed. A woman at the entrance took the sack from you and ordered a few children to start hanging up the branches. You walked over to the map room, but it was deserted.

When you turned around, Norvid was standing before you. You instinctively threw your hands up in fright.

“Oh God, you scared me!” You pressed a hand to your chest and let out a shaky laugh.

“No need, my lady. I will not harass you like I did the other night. I just wanted to express my sincere apologies for bothering you like that. Eivor certainly taught me a lesson.” He looked seriously ashamed. You nodded.

“Thank you, Norvid. I appreciate you telling me. I have to admit, I was worried about the next time we might cross paths.”

He slapped his forehead dramatically and fell to one knee. You had to fight down a laugh.

“Please forgive me for my terrible demeanor. I will never lay so much as a finger on you again.” He looked up, batting his eyelashes at you. “Unless you want me to.”

You snorted.

“No need, thank you. Now get up, you sly dog.”

He stood up and wiped the dust from his trousers, then he grinned at you and gave you another small bow before excusing himself. You shook your head at so much boldness.

When you asked the woman at the front where Randvi was, she just gestured vaguely into the distance. You followed the direction of her finger and tried not to get run over by all the eager people preparing for tonight. It was already afternoon and soon the feast would begin. There was still no sign of Eivor.

Suddenly you heard bright laughter coming from between two huts to your right. It sounded very familiar. As you rounded the corner, you saw two women with their backs to you, cutting branches with dark thorny leaves and red berries from a tall bush. One had auburn hair and one dark brown. A branch cracked beneath your foot and Eda and Randvi turned around, the laughter leaving their faces.

You pressed your hands to your stomach, trying to keep your composure. Forgiveness. New beginnings. Solstice.

“Eda. Randvi. I was looking for you both. I wanted to speak to you.”

Eda furrowed her brows.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

“Oh yes, I’m fine, wonderful actually. But we… our relationship, it is still strained from what happened in the last few weeks. Yuletide begins today and I… I thought maybe we could… find an understanding? Not just me and you, but also me and Randvi.”

You looked at the woman in blue and were relieved to find no anger or hatred in her eyes. There was actually a hint of a smile on her lips.

“As you may have guessed already, Eda and I have had some time to get to know each other,” she said and stepped forward. “Whatever you say to me, she can hear, too.”

Eda nodded. “The same goes for me.”

You took a deep breath and tried to still your shaky fingers.

“Well, Randvi, I just want to say that I am deeply sorry for all the pain my arrival here has caused you. Please know that I never intended to make things difficult for you. I had no idea what I was getting into. But now…”

Randvi came closer and placed a hand on your shoulder. She gave you a slightly pained smile.

“I know, Y/N. It is not your fault, neither is it Eivor’s or mine. I will heal, as we all do.” She quickly glanced over to Eda before sighing and putting her other hand on your shoulder as well. “I have seen the way she looks at you. I dream that one day someone will love me so fiercely, so unconditionally. Do you love her, too?”

“Yes, I do.” You just noticed now that tears had welled up in your eyes and quickly tried to wipe them away. “I really do.”

“Then it is only right that you two found your way into each other’s arms. I would be foolish to stand between you.”

Randvi lowered her gaze and stepped back. You turned to Eda, but before you could say anything, she took your hands in hers and spoke.

“Y/N, if there is an apology waiting on your tongue, spare it for the unlikely case you ever really wrong someone. I know I have put the weight of all my blame and resentment on you, but I was wrong. It was not your fault we were attacked and you had every right to try and start a better life here. I see that now.”

She squeezed your hands, smiling at you through tears.

“Randvi has shown me her world and even though she has walked a similar path to mine, she has the freedom to live as she pleases, she has power here and friends. I wish to have the same one day. The solstice shall be a new beginning for us all, and a chance for me to grow and open myself for new people, opportunities, and a new happiness.”

She wiped her cheek with her upper arm.

“It is what my mother would have wanted. It is what I want for Delia and Henry. It is only fair that I give you and myself the same chance.”

You pulled her in for a hug, the weight of a thousand stones falling off your shoulders. The pain of being hated by your closest friend had been unbearable. Thank God she had turned around and decided to give this life a try. You probably also had to thank Randvi, the countless hours she had spent with Eda and her endless patience and belief in the good.

“Thank you, Eda, thank you both for allowing me to reconcile with you. I do not want to quarrel with anyone here, no bad blood. This is my clan now, too.”

Randvi nodded and smiled, wrapping an arm around Eda’s shoulders as the dark-haired woman stepped back to her side.

“It is. You are both part of the family now.”

“You too?” you asked Eda, surprised. There had been no welcoming ritual for her yet. She gave you a shy smile.

“We had the ceremony last night. It was private.” She held out her arm with a golden bangle for you to see. Randvi pressed her lips together to stifle a grin.

Well, that was a surprise. A few weeks ago, Eda had cursed you for your interest in Eivor and now she was flirting with Randvi, a married woman? She really had turned around. Eda seemed to guess what you were thinking.

“Y/N, I apologize for my horrid comments when you first visited me. I understand now that things are different here, different than I was taught growing up. I’d be happy to talk about it with you later at the feast. I wronged you, and I am sincerely sorry. I wish you and Eivor all the best of luck.”

You could see pain flicker over Randvi’s face, but Eda tightened her grip around the auburn-haired woman’s waist and held your gaze. You nodded.

“Thank you.” You looked over to Randvi. “Is there any indication when they might be back?”

She sighed. “I hope they return before the celebrations begin. Yule can’t wait, but the ceremony will not be right without our drengrs . We’re just collecting some more decorations, but we will be back at the longhouse shortly. If you are idle, you could see if Sfáva needs help.”

As you walked back through the village, you noticed it was already getting darker. When would your drengr return to you? God forbid she was actually hurt or - no. You said a quick prayer, then you clapped your hands to shoo away your dark thoughts and focused on the path before you.

Just as you were about to cross the open space in front of the longhouse, making your way through the children admiring the gigantic woodpile for the bonfire, a horn sounded loudly from the docks. A wave of excitement went through the people in front of you and the children dropped everything to run to the docks and see the ship that had returned.

Looking behind you, you saw Valka rush down the hill with a big basket, looking worried. Did she sense a calamity? God, no. Please let Eivor be unharmed. Please, please return to me safely, my drengr.

You lifted your skirts and made your way down to the shore, surrounded by other women rushing to greet their husbands. The first warriors were already on solid ground.

They carried a wooden stretcher. Someone was lying on it, completely still. Your heart dropped.

You fought your way through the small crowd, craning your neck to try and find Eivor's blonde mane among the other men on the ship, but you could not see any specks of gold on the ship. The person on the stretcher however had light hair, long braids drenched in blood covering their face.

Someone let out a blood-curdling scream, loud enough to get through the rush of blood in your ears. A woman with flaming red hair stumbled forward. It was the Viking wife you had seen with Valka a while ago, the woman she had been infatuated with for a long time.

Even though you knew this was terrible, a tiny glimpse of hope sparked inside of you. Was it not Eivor after all on the stretcher? You finally made your way to the front when Valka pushed you aside and dropped her basket on the ground next to you before rushing to the woman’s side. The redhead had pushed the hair from the injured person’s face and revealed empty, staring eyes, a handsome, bearded face, and a terrible slash from his forehead down to his jaw.

Valka reached her just as she started wailing, wrapping her arms around the grieving woman and trying to soothe her. The men carrying the stretcher stood still, their eyes blank. The woman fell to her knees, cradling the dead man’s face and calling his name over and over again.

“He fought bravely and died a glorious death.” A loud, rough voice pierced the cacophony of chatter and crying and everyone immediately went quiet. You looked up to see Eivor standing at the foot of the stretcher. Her hair and most of her face were blackened with soot. Her eyes were full of sorrow.

“We sent him off to Valhalla and he shall wait there for all of us. Let us dedicate this solstice, this Yuletide to Alfarr and the glory he brought this clan. He will be dearly missed, never forgotten, and joyfully embraced when we join him in Valhalla.”

She nodded to the bearers of the stretcher and they set off toward the longhouse. Valka grabbed one arm of the woman that was still slumped on the ground and Eivor took the other, then they gently lifted her up and helped her walk behind the procession. It was quiet now, only a few sobs sounded through the clear night as the moon lit your path.

Eivor was alive. She had returned to you. You took a deep breath. Sigurd and Randvi were coming your way from the longhouse, followed by Eda. Randvi’s eyes widened at the sight before her and she dug her fingers into Sigurd’s arm, but the jarl kept his composure and just exchanged a silent nod with Eivor.

When you had reached the longhouse, a few younger men had already erected a table in one of the alcoves and put down linen sheets on it. Alfarr was lifted off the stretcher and placed on the table, his axe still fixed in his grip and laid down on his chest. Someone put down a tree stump on the ground next to his head and Valka and Eivor set his wife down on it. She was silent now, staring at her dead husband in disbelief.

It was curious. You knew she had been mistreated horribly by him, beaten and insulted until she had fled into Valka’s arms. Why was she so grief-stricken at his passing if she was in love with someone else and he had wronged her so terribly?

Valka looked up at you and gave you a knowing look. She would have answers for you later. Eivor’s gaze was fixed to the axe on Alfarr’s chest. She had not so much as glanced at you since her arrival. Did she even know you were here? You did not dare to go up to her and so you quietly retreated into the big hall where you sat down on one of the benches and put your hands into your head.

The childlike enthusiasm and excitement you had felt this morning had vanished. How was this evening going to play out now?

The wood of the bench creaked as someone sat down next to you. You looked up distractedly and found Norvid looking at you with a worried smile.

“How are you, my lady? Did you know Alfarr well?”

You rubbed your thighs and stared at the floor in front of you.

“No, I had never even seen him before. It’s just… I am not used to seeing this kind of violence. I witnessed it once, the night Williamsburg was raided. This is the first time since then.”

“I understand. It takes you back, does it not?” His hand hovered in the air between you, then he placed it on his knee. You nodded.

“You are a tough fighter,” he argued. “I have rarely seen someone learn so quickly and take to arms so well. If you wish to use those skills in the future, you must be prepared to see much more blood and death in the course of your life.”

You wanted to object, but then you realized that he was speaking the truth. If you were to become a warrior and fight at Eivor’s side, you would not only see violence, you would inflict it. That was the path you had chosen for yourself. You looked up at him and smiled.

“You’re right. Thank you for checking on me, I will be alright.” You touched his arm in a gesture of gratefulness and were just about to get up and look for Sfáva when you noticed a large figure in the corner of your eye.

Eivor was leaning against the wall next to the alcove, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed amidst the black paint. Her mouth was a straight line. When she caught your gaze, she pushed herself off the wall and strode to the entrance of the longhouse, vanishing before you could say anything. You jumped up and rushed after her, but she was nowhere to be seen.

You remembered the basket Valka had dropped down at the dock and made your way down to the water in hopes of retrieving it. As you came closer, you saw a dark-haired woman crouched over the spot, gathering items scattered on the snow and putting them back in the basket.

It was Eda, smiling when she noticed you coming toward her. You helped her pick up the last few strips of linen and leather sachets with herbs, then you offered to carry the basket, breaking the silence.

“What a terrible thing. Today, of all days.”

“Oh yes, a dreadful night for his poor wife,” Eda said. “I felt like all the blood in my veins froze when I saw him lying there, his wife sobbing for her dear beloved.”

Dear beloved? You were not so sure of that, but you dropped the thought.

“I felt the same. For a moment, I thought it was Eivor. My heart… it felt like the tiniest touch would make it shatter into a thousand pieces.”

“Now you know.” You could hear the pain in Eda’s voice. There was no bitterness or blame, only grief. “That’s what I felt that night.”

You took her hand and wove your fingers into hers.

“I still say a prayer for your mother every day. I am sure she is in a better place now, someone far away from all those who attempted to hold her prisoner. You will meet again one day and finally have peace together.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” Eda squeezed your hand.

You separated at the longhouse and you went up to your hut. Maybe Eivor would be there. Your heart was beating hard against your ribcage and you had to force yourself to breathe steadily, not sure what to expect from her.

You knocked on the door and waited for a response, but there was none. When you entered, the hut was dark apart from a few smoldering coals in the fireplace. Birna was laying on a bundle of clothes on the floor, clothes you recognized as the ones Eivor had been wearing. You gave the cat a few light scratches under her chin, then you wrapped yourself in your fur coat and went back outside.

People were now coming to the longhouse from all directions and the windows were lit brightly. A few men could be heard singing a bittersweet song and someone was putting final touches on the woodpile outside. When you entered, most people were standing in small groups, talking, and drinking ale or mead. There was a big fire in the middle of the room, ready for the ox that was to be slaughtered. You saw Randvi, Eivor, and Valka huddled together next to the alcove entrance where Alfarr was lying. They were speaking in hushed voices, mixed emotions on their faces.

Eivor was clean again, her face bare except for a red rune on her forehead, definitely Valka’s work. You desperately wanted to go over to them and join the conversation, but you could not bring yourself to do it. The fear of rejection or being excluded was too great.

Suddenly Sigurd stood up on a table.

“My dear ravens, my drengrs , my family! Tonight, in the shortest night of the year, we experience the darkness, we are encased by it and it threatens to leak into our hearts. Today we have lost a great man to the darkness, but what keeps us hopeful is the certainty that he is in Valhalla now. Alfarr fought bravely and gloriously, he was welcomed by Odin with open arms!”

The other warriors cheered and raised their drinking horns.

“Let us now follow the lead of our wonderful seeress, our guide through the darkness, Valka! We shall make a sacrifice to the gods that will propitiate them and grant us light, warmth, and good fortune for the coming year. And then we shall feast, in tribute to all the drengrs that fought for this clan and in memory of Alfarr!”

Everyone started to make their way outside and you let the crowd carry you to the bonfire. A few men had led the village’s strongest, most prized ox to the open space. They had fastened the rope on its holster to a large metal nail which they had then hammered into the frozen ground right at the edge of the woodpile.

Valka stepped into the circle that the people had formed around the stacked wood. She looked glorious in the light of the torches, her golden headdress and her jewelry gleaming in the flames. She carried a large copper bowl and a beautiful, embezzled dagger. Sigurd stepped to her side and they stood at the head of the ox.

First, Valka sang a hauntingly beautiful song in Norwegian and Sigurd joined in for the last verse. He held another small speech in his mother tongue before taking the dagger from Valka. She held her hands over the ox’s head and blessed the animal. You made out the names of Odin and Freya, of Sigurd and Eivor, and some of the other drengrs .

Finally, Sigurd drew the dagger over the throat of the animal and you could see its eyes widening, but it could not cry out. Sigurd had made the perfect cut. Blood started spilling from its throat and Valka held her bowl under the thick read stream until she had filled the vessel. Then she stepped back and watched the blood run over the frozen ground, into the woodpile, and toward the longhouse.

She started singing another song and this time almost all of the Vikings joined in, lifting their hands over their heads and building a beautiful choir while the ox started to stagger. His front legs gave in first and he slowly fell to his knees, then he lay down completely, his ragged breaths making a gurgling sound as his body bled out.

The singing slowly got quieter and finally died along with the animal’s last breath. Valka called out Sigurd, Randvi and Eivor and they stood next to each other, holding out their open palms as the seeress dipped her finger in the steaming blood and drew a different rune onto every one of them. Then she called out another name.

“Yngvor! Step forward and cleanse yourself of sorrow and grief. Begin this Yuletide with hope for the future, drenched in the glory of your husband and the blood of this sacrifice.”

The red-haired woman, her face still puffy and pale from crying, stood in front of Valka. The seeress gave her a sincere smile, then she wet her finger with blood again and drew a vertical line on each of Yngvor’s cheeks, resembling the streams of tears she had cried earlier. Then Valka drew a circle on her forehead and put a dot in the middle.

She stepped back and nodded. Randvi stretched out a hand and put it on the woman’s shoulder in support. Everyone sang another short song, then the ceremony seemed to be over. Everyone spread out, most people heading for the longhouse as Lewin and a few other men knelt next to the ox and started skinning and disemboweling it.

Inside everyone sat down along the long tables a first course of food was passed around, mead and ale were poured out and the first songs of praise sounded through the hall. You sat with Aelfric, Hal, and Eda. They were all excitedly debating the meaning of the ritual and its different components, the runes, and what might still come in this long night. In the meantime, the ox was carried in on a long spit by eight men and hung over the fire to roast.

You were distracted by your strange reunion with Eivor - you had not even spoken a word after being so close during the last weeks. Of course, she had lost one of her men and if you knew her at all, she probably blamed herself for his death. But then the interaction with Norvid and her reaction to it - what was that? Was she jealous? There was no reason for that. You were hers and hers only. She should know that.

You risked a look to her table and your heart cramped up in your chest. Eivor was not eating, her fists were balled up next to her plate and her eyes fixed on the table. Her face was a stony mask, no emotion breaking the surface. Sigurd and Randvi were deep in conversation and you could hear two of her men at her side speaking about Alfarr and how well he had fought today. All you wanted was to go up to Eivor, take her hand and hold her tight. But you feared that she would reject you after everything you had seen of her today.

Hal pulled out his dice game and immediately declared that he would never play against you again. Instead, you taught the game to Eda who had great fun but went down without a single win. She was a hopeless case.

“Mind if I join you?”

You looked up to see Norvid standing next to you, a plate of dried fruit in his hand.

“They are going to make the first cut on the beast soon, but I figured that if all the drengrs get their meat first, we still have some time to spare. At least three rounds.” He grinned and the others eagerly invited him to sit. Soon they were laughing and bickering about their wagers.

When the meat was cut, everyone was patiently waiting in line for their share. Norvid stood behind you.

“How are you liking your first Yule so far?” he asked, a friendly twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, it’s very impressive. I have never seen an animal being sacrificed in that manner. It seemed very peaceful. I can hardly wait for the bonfire later.” You smiled at the thought of the gigantic pile of wood that would be ablaze soon - the biggest fire you had ever seen.

The meat was delicious and there were sides of roasted vegetables, fresh bread, and pickled cabbage. When it was finally time for the fire, everyone flocked outside again. The ox’s blood had seeped into the ground, leaving frozen red streaks around and leading into the woodpile.

You stood next to Eda as Sigurd and Valka joined together for another speech, then a young, blonde Viking woman with beautiful, intricate braids carried a great torch from the longhouse and handed it to Sigurd. Their eyes met and their gazes stayed locked for just a moment too long. You looked over to Randvi; she had seen it, too. She looked just the slightest bit surprised, but not affronted or disappointed at all. Interesting. Eivor stood next to her, her face still completely devoid of emotion. She stared at the woodpile, or rather through it into the distance.

Sigurd said another few words in Norwegian, then he went around the pile and set fire to the wood in different places. Finally, he pushed the torch into the bottom of the pile and everyone watched in awe as the stack ignited, the wood cracking and shifting as sparks flew in all directions.

You turned to Eda to joke about her bad luck in the dice game earlier when you noticed her dreamy gaze into the distance, her expression languorous and enchanted as the light of the flames danced over her face. You followed her eyes and landed on Randvi, who showed the exact same countenance.

“Eda?” you asked and she snapped out of her reverie immediately, trying to look innocent.

“Yes, dear?”

“What is happening between you and Randvi?”

She grabbed your arm and shushed you even though you had barely mumbled the question. Then she pulled you back a few steps, out of the circle, and got closer to you.

“I do not know what nature the bond between us will turn out to be. But she is the reason I smile again, the reason I eat and speak, the reason I yet stand before you. Something about her is so… gentle, so kind and caring. I have never met someone as selfless as her.”

You fought down a bitter laugh. Randvi was many things, but endlessly selfless was not one of them. You left it up for Eda to learn that herself. Reminding yourself of Valka's words and your reconciliation with Randvi earlier, you hoped that maybe Randvi had really changed. You did not want Eda to go through any more pain. Sighing, you put an arm around your friend’s shoulders.

“I hope you find peace and happiness here. I know I am still searching for it.”

Eda raised her eyebrows at you.

“I thought you had Eivor?”

“Well, yes. I had her. But I was not yet ready to commit to her and now that I am…” Your eyes wandered over to the beautiful blonde standing next to Sigurd like a statue. “I am not sure she wants me anymore.”

“I refuse to believe that. Everyone who ever laid eyes on you two knows you are madly in love.” You looked at Eda in surprise and she laughed. “Oh Y/N, you are destined to be together. You will make all our lives hell if you don’t finally find your way into each other’s arms.”

She giggled, a sound you had last heard when you were but young girls sharing secrets hidden in the stables of Williamsburg.

“Maybe the reason Eivor acts strangely is because she cannot control herself around you any longer. Maybe it is your touch that will give her peace.”

“Eda!” you whispered and slapped her hand, trying to contain your own laughter. You could feel yourself blushing at her proposition.

People were spreading out now, some staying at the fire, some going back to the longhouse or vanishing into the dark to do God knew what. Eda hooked her arm under yours and you were joining the others that were going back in when Norvid came up from behind.

“Good evening, my ladies!” He was fairly drunk again, but before you could say anything, Eda had let go of you and pulled him between you. She linked arms with him and he followed her example on your side, tucking your arm under his. The three of you stumbled along the path together and maybe it was the ale you had had, or the wonderfully clear night, or how unbelievable all this seemed to you, but you threw your head back and laughed, deeply and heartily. You had found your place here.

Just as you were about to enter the longhouse, you saw Eivor standing on the side, beckoning you over. You felt a jump in your stomach and took a deep breath.

“Go ahead, I won’t be long,” you told the others, secretly hoping the opposite. Eda and Norvid went without asking why, and for a moment you stood still, watching them enter the brightly lit room. They both tripped over a fir branch on the floor and struggled to untangle their arms, but while Norvid hit the floor with a loud thump and more laughter, Eda fell right into Randvi’s arms. You smiled to yourself. She was in good hands.

You turned to Eivor and she rounded the corner of the longhouse, motioning for you to follow her. It was the same spot where you had once found Valka and Yngvor, the red-haired woman, in loving embrace. Your heartbeat quickened and you were just about to ask Eivor what she planned to do with you when she whirled around and pushed you against the wall, her pupils blown and hot wrath burning behind them.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” she snarled, “little dove?”

Author’s note: this just keeps getting longer and longer - I hope you aren't bored of me yet. I promise you a lot of smut for the next chapter. Please do let me know what you think if you're still reading!

#eivor wolfsmal #eivor wolfkissed #eivor #eivor x reader #eivor wolfsmal x reader #eivor wolfkissed x reader #lady eivor #lady eivor x reader #ac valhalla #assassins creed valhalla #assassinscreedvalhalla

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jacks-jester · 4 years

Text

Napier

[Ledger!Joker x Reader]

Words: 3,123

Warnings: None?

Requested: Yes / No

Summary: You’re given the opportunity to reunite with your childhood sweetheart Jack, who now goes by the Joker. Is he the same mischievous boy you left behind, or is he the sadistic mass murderer the media portrays him as.

A/N~ This is sort of a sequel to my fic Longing? I will try getting to all my amazing requests soon, however I can’t promise anything. I’ve had some health complications due to my mental health and am trying to become healthy again. I’m getting back to where I need to be but some outside occurrence's are hindering that. I apologize to anyone I may have let down.

Your life had been fairly mellow since the last time you’d seen Jack on the television, though the shock was still just as present. Jack was the person you had always considered to be the love of your life, he was always sweet and thoughtful when you two were together. He never raised his voice, never raised a hand, and never made you feel unloved. The person you had seen on that television was not the same person you had left in Gotham, Jack seemed somewhat deranged now, wreaking havoc on the entire city. Part of you understood his grievance, his actions mostly costing those in wealthy position, it was clear what he wanted - tear down the corrupt city and take down those in power. He risked innocent lives in the process however, and that was enough to scare you of the man you had once loved with your whole heart. You doubted he cared, doubted he even knew you were here in Gotham, why would he? You left him years ago- but that made you ask yourself, what if you got caught in one his schemes? What if you were in one of the ferries last week when he decided to have his own social experiment play out just to prove his point.

You were conflicted and confused to say the absolute least after you caught the last glimpse of the man you loved so much. From the brief snippets of gossip you’d overheard at work, he was now back in Arkham Asylum- though your coworkers argued that he most likely would be broken out before the week is out. Hearing about where he was had sparked something in you, the need to see Jack. You had hoped you’d bump into him after moving back, but seeing as he was the most wanted criminal in Gotham, it seemed beyond unlikely. With him being locked up, you had the chance to possibly see him again, get the urge out of your system before it consumed you entirely. You were unsure whether or not Arkham would let you see him, but you knew internally how upset you’d be if you didn’t at least try.

You had finished your typical 9 hour shift at The Gotham Zoo, working as the head of the exotic mammals department- the last being killed in an apparent incident with Killer Croc. You let out a shaky sigh as you took in the large gates standing in front of you, the words Arkham Asylum written atop in meticulous metalwork. Your head swiveled to the side when a buzzing sounded through the air, a voice emitting from a small intercom to the left of the large doors. “What can I help you with ma’am?” You turned to face the small camera and speaker, a soft yet nervous smile appearing across your lips as you responded, “I’m here to visit a patient. Are visiting hours still open?” You knew for certain hours of the day the asylum was on lower security, allowing visitors to certain inmates though deep down you knew the chances of seeing Jack were slim considering how high-class of a criminal he was.

“One hour left before visiting ours are over. I’ll open the gate now, enter to the first building on your left and they’ll sort out your visitation at the desk. If you have any weapons or contraband on your person, security will take the force needed to remove you from the premises, am I clear?”

Your eyes widened at the idea of sneaking in anything dangerous and you nodded in respond, “Yes sir. Thank you.” You turned away from the camera, instead focusing on the large metal gates that were now opening before you, giving you a clear view of the entire asylum. You walked nervously through the gates, several armed guards lining the courtyard as you headed towards the visitation desk. Once in the building you relaxed slightly, the security having frisked and questioned you at the door, all that was left was to attempt to get a visitation in for Jack. A kind looking elderly woman sat behind the bulky and outdated white computer that sat upon her desk, her acrylics tapping quickly upon the keys of her keyboard. It wasn’t until you cleared your throat to gain her attention that she finally looked up to you, readjusting her glasses before speaking up.

“Good afternoon, what can I do for you?”

You smiled softly at her before forcing you words out, “I was hoping to visit an inmate today if possible? I’m not sure how your visitations work here so I’m kind of unprepared.”

She looked at you as if this was a regular occurrence for her, simply nodding with a smile, “Of course, is your inmate new? Seems like we get more and more everyday.”

“Um, no. From my understanding he’s been in here quite a few times, at least that's what I’ve heard.”

“Alright dearie, and what’s the patients name?”

You in all honesty weren’t sure what name he was under in their systems, so you went with the one you’d been hearing the most recently. “The Joker?”

The woman stopped everything she was doing and looked at you with a perplexed expression. “The Joker?” She took a moment to recollect herself before shaking her head, “We can’t let anyone in unless they are someone personal to the Joker, family only I’m afraid. He’s too high risk to let anyone but family see him.” You looked at her with confusion for a moment before replying with an unwavering voice, “I’m his fiancé, please.” She looked you up and down for a second before flicking her eyes to her computer screen. She knew nobody but someone truly close to the Joker would know his name, even his closest henchman didn’t know his name from what the GCPD had said. The hospital however, had his blood work and files from his youth at Gotham general, his name was in their files. “What’s the patients name?”

You looked at her with a soft smile and replied quickly and short, “Jack. Jack Napier. Please, I just recently moved back here and just learned of this whole Joker business. I need to see him.” She let out a sigh and nodded, “You pass the routine check for relatives and associates, I have to give you a warning though. You’ll have to sign this contract, it means no matter what happens between you and the patient during visitation, Arkham Asylum is not responsible for what happens. This includes bodily harm, serious injuries, trauma, and death.” You only nodded and signed the form, “Can I see him now?”

Your heart was racing at the thought of seeing him again, though you couldn’t deny the dread that bubbled up inside of you at the prospect of coming face to face with someone unrecognizable. You wanted to maintain your positive image of Jack, the image of that charming school boy who never failed to sweep you off your feet, the boy who got into fights when he saw someone even look at you off, who never failed to make you fall deeper into love with him every time his lips met yours. The daunting reality that the boy you had fallen in love with all those years ago could be a thing of the past, a new darkness enveloping the person you cherished so deeply.

After the woman had made a phone call notifying guards of the visitation, you were escorted by two security men to one of the higher levels in the institution. The higher you rose, the more loud and prominent the screams of patients became- it was as though you were ascending into the madness itself as the elevator rose higher and higher. You ended up getting off at level 5 of the large building, the security taking you to a large metal door with a closed peep slot. The larger of the two guards turns to you while the other works on unlocked the door, “You have 30 minutes before we come in to get you. The door will remain locked for the entirety of those thirty minutes. Do you understand?” You nodded shakily in response before turning to enter the room as the door was swung open, creaking eerily as it shut behind you.

You remained silent as you took in the sight in front of you, it was him, no doubt about it. His head was bowed, looking down at his cuffed hands, completely ignoring your presence in the room. He was exactly the same as when you had left, well almost with a few exceptions. His hair was wavy and shoulder length, freshly washed, and the almond brown color you remembered so distinctly, though a few blotchy patches of green remained- long nights spent in each others arms as your fingers combed through that exact head of hair. You couldn’t see his eyes due to his gaze facing downwards but you could only guess they were the same honey color as before, green specks littering the dark brown ring on the outside of his iris, though you had to wonder if they held the same kindness, love, and mischief as before. He occupied one of the two chairs inside the room, a table dividing the two seats, and his body was in the typical white uniform you had seen the other patients wearing around the hospital.

You were taken out of your own mind when you heard a breathy laugh escape the man sitting before you, his head still bowed. “I have to give it to you, a lot of people have tried to get past security to see me and so far you’re the only one to have done it without shooting a few people along the way. So what do you want? Money? Power? Everything comes with a price, nothing comes for free.” You made your way slowly towards him, pulling out the chair and taking a seat opposite of his larger figure. “I was just hoping to see you.” You could hear the almost silent intake of breath he made before raising his head, those all too familiar brown eyes meeting you e/c ones. He silently stared at you, and as much as you hated to admit it, for the first time ever you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “Long time no see Jack.”

You watched as his eyes darkened ever so slightly, his lips twisting into a deep-set frown as he took in your words. “What are you doing here?” His words surprised you, they were laced with what seemed to frustration and disbelief. You weren’t expecting a warm reception after learning of his new career, but you expected him to at least show some sliver of recognition. “I’m sorry?” His voice growled out his words again, his words a low tone as if biting back anger. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you. I missed you Jack. I heard you were in Arkham while at work and figured I was most likely to see you if I came in for visitation, it didn’t seem likely for me to just bump into you like I’d hoped I would.” Joker looked you up and down and clicked his tongue in annoyance, “You shouldn’t have come bac to Gotham doll, it’s not safe anymore. I told you not to come back after you moved away.” You rolled your eyes at his words, he was talking to you like you were a child. “Yeah, well you also said you would get out of here soon after me. Looks that means we both didn’t hold up to each others expectations.” Your gaze flicked from looking at him to your hands which were fiddling nervously in your lap. “What are you doing Jack?”

The man sitting before you let out one of his signature cackles at your question, “What do you mean?” You let out a sigh, your eyebrows knitting together in frustration. “You’re killing people, destroying the city, wreaking havoc. What is it all for? What do you gain?” Jack shrugged his shoulder lightly, his gaze meeting yours silently. “Because it’s not boring, and those I despise are being taken down like flies.” Your hand subconsciously reached across the table, interlocking tightly with Jacks own handcuffed one. “Why not leave? You clearly have the opportunity and funds to, why not build a life away from here. I know you probably already have a plan to escape from here given your history. Why not start a new life away from all this devastation and death? Like we had planned? Away from the violence and corruption.”

Jacks thumb had subconsciously began running soothingly across the top of your hand, an old habit he had when you two were together in your youth. “I have mission here doll, the chaos is fair and that's what Gotham deserves.” You let out a sigh and gazed into the honey pools that were his eyes. “Gotham deserves to burn, but you don’t need to be a part of it. I came back here hoping to find you, start where we left off, get back the years I lost when I moved. Run away, please Jack.”

Jacks hand released from your and beckoned you over to where he was sitting, and without a second thought you complied, standing to walk over to him. He raised his cuffs into the air, allowing you to take a seat on top of his lap, the cuffs lowering, trapping your body near his. You instinctively leant against his strong form, your head hidden in the crook of his neck while his arms held you tightly against him. He smelt the same as odd as that was: vanilla, greasepaint, fir, and the slightest scent of cigarettes and gunpowder. “I can’t leave, I have a lot of big plans and unfinished business to attend to doll.” You could feel a small piece of you shatter at his words. You were so close to him, so close to the future you’d be dreaming of, a one where you and Jack could go back to the way things were all those years ago.

“Please don’t hurt me like this- not again. Please Jack. I’ve missed you, more than you could even begin to comprehend. I need you in my life.” You felt a hum pass through his throat as he soaked in your words. This was the side of him you knew, the side you remembered so fondly. He was caring, a bit rough around the edges, and loyal beyond measure- this was the side of him most people wouldn’t believe existed due to his public history of violence and insanity. But to you, this wasn’t the Joker. This was Jack Napier, the boy you grew up with, your first relationship, your first, your first heartbreak, your first everything. To you, Jack had always been everything. He was your past, present, and future. The idea of having a future without him absolutely devastated you, you wanting nothing more than love him completely.

You felt a rumbling groan escape from Jacks throat as he soaked in your words. “The things you do to me doll.” He licked his lips quickly, his teeth chewing on the inside of his scars afterwards as if thinking through what he was going to say. You pulled back from his neck and instead rested your hand on his shoulder, your eyes looking deeply into his. “Please Jack, don’t leave me alone again.” His eyes seemed stoic as he looked to you, “Doll, I’m not the Jack you knew anymore you have to realize that.” You nodded in response, your eyes not leaving his, “But you are, your actions and words are proving that to me. If you were cold, sadistic, and blood thirsty like the news makes you out to be, then why did you welcome me into your arms so easily. Why haven’t you attacked me? Yelled at me? Why haven’t you pushed me away? Why do I see the same spark mischief in your eyes that I did when we first met in third grade. Why do you still show the same compassion and care you’ve always showed me. You held my hand the way you always did late nights when we’d stargaze on your apartment roof. You’re changed but you’re still my Jack, even if nobody else sees it. Sure you have a few more scars than when I left, and your eyes hold a new darkness to them, but that hasn’t changed you, not where it counts.” Your hand made its way up to his cheeks, your fingers carefully brushing against his mangled cheeks, your eyes holding all the love in the world as you gazed upon the all to familiar man who sat in front of you.

“When you break out, please find me. I live on South 102nd street in the old Bowers building, third floor, fourth window to right from the street, right near the fire escape. Please just come home, even if it’s just for a little. I need you Jack.” He didn’t respond, only leaned forward and captured your lips with his own, your eyes immediately closing instinctually as your body pressed flush against his. He never had been one to profess his love, even when he was younger. You’d come to learn his love language was that of physical reaffirmation, showing you rather than telling. Jack always did feel that actions spoke louder than words, the physical aspect reaffirming his feelings more than words ever could. You knew this was his way of agreeing, of reciprocating your words. He needed you, he missed you, he loved you. You didn’t need him to say those words aloud for you to know- the kiss told you everything you needed to know.

The two of you parted just as the door creaked open signaling that your visitation was over. A voice boomed from across the room, the voice of one of the security guards from earlier. “Times up, come on.” You laid a quick kiss to Jacks lips before whispering quickly in his ear, “I’ll see you soon love.” He hummed in response, showing you he heard you and acknowledged your parting words. You cast one final glance at him as you were lead out of the room by the guard. For the first time since moving to Gotham, you felt some hope for the future, your future with Jack. It wasn’t going to be the one you’d imagined, but any future with him in it was worth it in your eyes. He was yours, and you were his. That's all you need to feel secure.

End

Time: 2 hours 2 minutes 26

This was not grammar checked or proof read before posting.

Final Note: I’m not very happy with how I portrayed Jack in this or how it turned out. But hey, at least I wrote something down. Maybe I’ll rewrite it at some point, maybe not.

#jack napier #joker #Heath Ledger Joker #joker headcanons #Joaquin Phoenix #ledger joker #heath ledger #ledger joker x reader #jack napier x reader #joker one shot

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silvokrent · 4 years

Text

RWBY Character Analysis: Pietro and Penny Polendina

Up until now I’ve been keeping quiet about my opinions on the newest volume, in no small part because my personal life has been one absurd setback after another, and I haven’t had the energy to engage in fandom meta. If you do want to know what my current opinion of RWBY is, go over to @itsclydebitches blog, search through her #rwby-recaps tag, and read every single one. At this point, her metas are basically an itemized list of all my grievances with the show. I highly recommend you check ’em out.

Or, if you don’t feel like reading several hours’ worth of recaps, then go find a sheet of paper, give yourself a papercut, and then squeeze a lemon into it. That should give you an accurate impression of my feelings.

In truth, I have a lot to say about the show, particularly how I think CRWBY has mishandled the plot, characters, tone, and intended message of their series. And while I enjoy dissecting RWBY with what amounts to mad scientist levels of glee, I think plenty of other folks have already discussed V7′s and V8′s various issues in greater depth and with far more eloquence. Any contribution I could theoretically make at this point would be somewhat redundant.

That being said, I’d like to talk about something that’s been bothering me for a while, which (to my knowledge) no one else in the fandom has brought up. (And feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.)

Today’s topic of concern is Pietro Polendina, and his relationship with Penny.

And because I’m absolutely certain this post is going to be controversial and summon anonymous armchair critics to fill my inbox with sweary claptrap, I may as well just come out and say it:

Pietro Polendina, as he’s currently portrayed in the show, is an inherently abusive parental figure.

Let me take a second to clarify that I don’t think it was RWBY’s intention to portray Pietro that way. Much like other aspects of the show, a lot of nuance is often lost when discussing the difference between intention versus implementation, or telling versus showing. It’s what happens when a writer tries to characterize a person one way, but in execution portrays them in an entirely different light. Compounding this problem is what feels like a series of rather myopic writing decisions that started as early as Volume 2, concerning Penny’s sense of agency, and how the canon would bear out the implications of an autonomous being grappling with her identity. It’s infuriating that the show has spent seven seasons staunchly refusing to ask any sort of ethical questions surrounding her existence, only to then—with minimal setup—give us Pietro’s “heartfelt” emotional breakdown when he has to choose between “saving” Penny or “sacrificing” her for the greater good.

Yeah, no thanks.

If we want to talk about why this moment read as hollow and insincere, we need to first make sure everyone’s on the same page.

Spoilers for V8.E5 - “Amity.” Let’s not waste any time.

In light of the newest episode and its—shall we say—questionable implications, I figured now was the best time to bring it up while the thoughts were still fresh in my mind. (Because nothing generates momentum quite like frothing-at-the-mouth rage.)

The first time we’re told anything about Pietro, it comes from an exchange between Penny and Ruby. From V2.E2 - “A Minor Hiccup.”

Penny: I've never been to another kingdom before. My father asked me not to venture out too far, but... You have to understand, my father loves me very much. He just worries a lot.

Ruby: Believe me, I know the feeling. But why not let us know you were okay?

Penny: I…was asked not to talk to you. Or Weiss. Or Blake. Or Yang. Anybody, really.

Ruby: Was your dad that upset?

Penny: No, it wasn’t my father.

The scene immediately diverts our attention to a public unveiling of the AK-200. A hologram of James Ironwood is presenting this newest model of Atlesian Knight to a crowd of enthusiastic spectators, along with the Atlesian Paladin, a piloted mech. During the demonstration, James informs his audience that Atlas’ military created them with the intent of removing people from the battlefield and mitigating casualties (presumably against Grimm).

Penny is quickly spotted by several soldiers, and flees. Ruby follows, and in the process the two are nearly hit by a truck. Penny’s display of strength draws a crowd and prompts her to retreat into an alley, where Ruby learns that Penny isn’t “a real girl.”

This scene continues in the next episode, “Painting the Town…”

Penny: Most girls are born, but I was made. I’m the world’s first synthetic person capable of generating an Aura. [Averts her gaze.] I’m not real…

After Ruby assures her that no, you don’t have to be organic in order to have personhood, Penny proceeds to hug her with slightly more force than necessary.

Ruby: [Muffled noise of pain.] I can see why your father would want to protect such a delicate flower!

Penny: [Releases Ruby.] Oh, he’s very sweet! My father’s the one that built me! I’m sure you would love him.

Ruby: Wow. He built you all by himself?

Penny: Well, almost! He had some help from Mr. Ironwood.

Ruby: The general? Wait, is that why those soldiers were after you?

Penny: They like to protect me, too!

Ruby: They don't think you can protect yourself?

Penny: They're not sure if I'm ready yet. One day, it will be my job to save the world, but I still have a lot left to learn. That's why my father let me come to the Vytal Festival. I want to see what it's like in the rest of the world, and test myself in the Tournament.

Their conversation is interrupted by the sound of the approaching soldiers from earlier. Despite Ruby’s protests, Penny proceeds to yeet her into the nearby dumpster, all while reassuring her that it’s to keep Ruby out of trouble, not her. When the soldiers arrive, they ask her if she’s okay, then proceed to lightly scold her for causing a scene. Penny’s told that her father “isn’t going to be happy about this,” and is then politely asked (not ordered; asked) to let them escort her back.

Let’s take a second to break down these events.

When these two episodes first aired, the wording and visuals (“No, it wasn’t my father,” followed by the cutaway to James unveiling the automatons) implied that James was the one forbidding her from interacting with other people. It’s supposed to make you think that James is being restrictive and harsh, while Pietro is meant as a foil—the sweet, but cautious father figure. But here’s the thing: both of these depictions are inaccurate, and frankly, Penny’s the one at fault here. Penny blew her cover within minutes of interacting with Ruby—a scenario that Penny was responsible for because she was sneaking off without permission. Penny is a classified, top-secret military project, as made clear by the fact that she begs Ruby to not say anything to anyone. Penny is in full acknowledgement that her existence, if made public, could cause massive issues for her (something that she’s clearly experienced before, if her line, “You’re taking this extraordinarily well,” is anything to go by).

But here’s the thing—keeping Penny on a short leash wasn’t a unilateral decision made by James. That was Pietro’s choice as well. “My father asked me not to venture out too far,” “Your father isn’t going to be happy about this”—as much as this scene is desperately trying to put the onus on James for Penny’s truant behavior, Pietro canonically shares that blame. And Penny (to some extent) is in recognition of the fact that she did something wrong.

Back in Volumes 1 – 3, before the series butchered James’ characterization, these moments were meant as pretty clever examples of foreshadowing and subverting the controlling-military-general trope. This scene is meant to illustrate that yes, Penny is craving social interaction outside of military personnel as a consequence of being hidden, but that hiding her is also a necessity. It’s a complicated situation with no easy answer, but it’s also something of a necessary evil (as Penny’s close call with the truck and her disclosing that intel to Ruby are anything to go by).

Let’s skip ahead to Volume 7, shortly after Watts tampered with the drone footage and framed her for several deaths. In V7.E7 - “Worst Case Scenario,” a newscaster informs us that people in Atlas and Mantle want Penny to be deactivated, despite James’ insistence that the footage was doctored and Penny didn’t go on a killing spree. The public’s unfavorable opinion of Penny—a sentiment that Jacques of all people embodies when he brings it up in V7.E8—reinforces V2’s assessment of why keeping her secret was necessary. Not only is her existence controversial because Aura research is still taboo, but people are afraid that a mechanical person with military-grade hardware could be hacked and weaponized against them. (Something which Volume 8 actually validates when James has Watts take control of her in the most recent episode.)

But I digress.

We’re taken to Pietro’s lab, where Penny is hooked up to some sort of recharge/docking station. Ruby, Weiss, and Maria look on in concern while the machine is uploading the visual data from her systems. There’s one part of their conversation I want to focus on in particular:

Pietro: When the general first challenged us to find the next breakthrough in defense technology, most of my colleagues pursued more obvious choices. I was one of the few who believed in looking inward for inspiration.

Ruby: You wanted a protector with a soul.

Pietro: I did. And when General Ironwood saw her, he did too. Much to my surprise, the Penny Project was chosen over all the other proposals.

Allow me to break down their conversation so we can fully appreciate what he’s actually saying.

The Penny Project was picked as the candidate for the next breakthrough in defense technology.

Pietro wanted a protector with a SOUL.

In RWBY, Aura and souls are one of the defining characteristics of personhood. Personhood is central to Penny’s identity and internal conflict (particularly when we consider that she’s based on Pinocchio). That’s why Penny accepts Ruby’s reassurances that she’s a real person. That’s why she wants to have emotional connections with others.

What makes that revelation disturbing is when you realize that Pietro knowingly created a child soldier.

Look, there’s no getting around this. Pietro fully admits that he wanted to create a person—a human being—a fucking child—as a "defense technology” to throw at the Grimm (and by extension, Salem). Everything, from the language he uses, to the mere fact that he entered Penny in the Vytal Tournament as a proving ground where she could “test [her]self,” tells us that he either didn’t consider or didn’t care about the implications behind his proposal.

When you break it all down, this is what we end up with:

“Hey, I have an idea: Why don’t we make a person, cram as many weapons as we can fit into that person, and then inform her every day for the rest of her life that she was built for the sole purpose of fighting monsters, just so we don’t have to risk the lives of others. Let’s then take away anything remotely resembling autonomy, minimize her interactions with people, and basically indoctrinate her into thinking that this is something she wants for herself. Oh, and in case she starts to raise objections, remind her that I donated part of my soul to her. If we make her feel guilty about this generous sacrifice I made so she could have the privilege of existing, she won’t question our motives. Next, let’s give her a taste of freedom by having her fight in a gladiatorial blood sport so that we can prove our child soldier is an effective killer. And then, after she’s brutally murdered on international television, we can rebuild her and assign her to protecting an entire city that’s inherently prejudiced against her, all while I brood in my lab about how sad I am.”

Holy fuck. Watts might be a morally bankrupt asshole, but at least his proposal didn’t hinge on manufacturing state-of-the-art living weapons. They should have just gone with his idea.

(Which, hilariously enough, they did. Watts is the inventor of the Paladins—Paladins which, I’ll remind you, were invented so the army could remove people from the battlefield. You know, people. Kind of like what Penny is.)

Do you see why this entire scene might have pissed me off? Even if the show didn’t intend for any of this to be the case, when you think critically about the circumstances there’s no denying the tacit implications.

To reiterate, V8.E5 is the episode where Pietro says, and I quote:

“I don’t care about the big picture! I care about my daughter! I lost you before. Are you asking me to go through that again? No. I want the chance to watch you live your life.”

Oh, yeah? And what life is that? The one where she’s supposed to kill Grimm and literally nothing else? You do realize that she died specifically because you made her for the purpose of fighting, right?

No one, literally no one, was holding a gun to Pietro’s head and telling him that he had to build a living weapon. That was his idea. He chose to do that.

Remember when Cinder said, “I don’t serve anyone! And you wouldn’t either, if you weren’t built that way.” She…basically has a point. Penny has never been given the option to explore the world in a capacity where she wasn’t charged with defending it by her father. We know she doesn’t have many friends, courtesy of Ironwood dissuading her against it in V7. But I’m left with the troubling realization that the show (and the fandom), in their crusade to vilify James, are ignoring the fact that Pietro is also complicit in this behavior by virtue of being her creator. If we condemn the man that prevents Penny from having relationships, then what will we do to the man who forced her into that existence in the first place?

Being her “father” has given him a free pass to overlook the ethics of having a child who was created with a pre-planned purpose. How the hell did the show intend for Pietro to reconcile “I want you to live your life” with “I created you so you’d spend your life defending the world”? It viscerally reminds me of the sort of narcissistic parents who have kids because they want to pass on the family name, or continue their bloodline, or have live-in caregivers when they get older, only on a larger and much more horrific scale. And that’s fucked up.

Now, I’m not saying I’m against having a conflict like this in the show. In fact, I’d love to have a character who has to grapple with her own humanity while questioning the environment she grew up in. Penny is a character who is extremely fascinating because of all the potential she represents—a young woman who through a chance encounter befriends a group of strangers, and over time, is exposed to freedoms and friendships she was previously denied. Slowly, she begins to unlearn the mindset she was indoctrinated with, and starts to petition for agency and autonomy. Pietro is forced to confront the fact that what he did was traumatic and cruel, and that his love for her doesn’t erase the harm he unintentionally subjected her to, nor does it change the fact that he knowingly burdened a person with a responsibility she never consented to. There’s a wealth of character growth and narrative payoff buried here, but like most things in RWBY, it was either underdeveloped or not thought through all the way.

The wholesome father-daughter relationship the show wants Pietro and Penny to have is fundamentally contradicted by the nature of her existence, and the fact that no one (besides the villains) calls attention to it. I’d love for them to have that sort of dynamic, but the show had to do more to earn it. Instead, it’ll forever be another item on RWBY’s ever-growing list of disappointments—

Because Pietro’s remorse is more artificial than Penny could ever hope to be.

#rwby #rwby volume 8 #rwby spoilers #rwby thought dump #my posts #i speak #rwby meta #pietro polendina #penny polendina #james ironwood #arthur watts #ruby rose #rwby worldbuilding #rwde

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girls-scenarios · 4 years

Text

The Warmth in Her Smile

Idol: Irene (Red Velvet)

Prompt: ceo irene age gap love story w gf (angst and fluff but more angst yknow) along the lines of having their differences but irene rly rly loves gf

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: I did end up making this reader female, just because it worked better for the angst scenario I was inspired to write.

♡ Tip Jar♡

Irene had never been someone to jump headfirst into anything without stopping to think first. She hadn’t created a successful company by being careless, and her careful and calculating personality had made her rich. Even in high school, she had been careful of her actions, overthinking each situation as she planned her rise to the top of the business world. Everything was accounted for in her life.

Except for you.

She could have never accounted for you, or for the way you shoved your way into her heart and refused to leave. How could she have known that, on that rainy day, the panicked college kid she sheltered with her umbrella would make her fall in love? Had she known, she would have kept walking.

But she didn’t. Instead she smiled and took you in, offering you a change of clothes when you told her that you had a presentation and giving you her umbrella when you left, and now she couldn’t let you go.

What was it about you that was so addicting? Your smile? Your embrace? The way you tried your best even after being soaked to the bone? The way your lips felt against yours? Or perhaps the way your eyes sparkled when she praised you and when you accomplished what you wanted? When she tried to list the reasons, she only realized how much she loved everything about you. And how easily you could break her heart.

“Is it normal for you to loan people your clothes when they get wet?” You had laughed softly as you stepped out of her bathroom, your hair still slightly wet but now pulled back away from your face. With a shrug, Irene had walked over to fix the blazer around your shoulders.

“I’m a philanthropist at heart. Do you always follow people to their home?”

You’d flushed and grinned sheepishly. “Well, I recognized you. You helped run the animal shelter fundraiser at my college last year and my friend said you lent everyone gloves, so I figured you were a nice person.”

Amused, she’d laughed and shook her head, her heart already taking to this optimistic college kid. “Fair point. You look ready to give a presentation now that you no longer look like a drowned kitten.”

“But is it really okay for me to take these clothes? I mean, they’re really nice.”

“They were a gift from a colleague, but they never fit me. They fit you, so you can keep them.”

“Wow.” You had grinned, warming her heart. “Thanks, I really appreciate it. I have to go now, but I’ll be back to repay you, I promise!”

At first, when she had let you out the door and waved goodbye, she hadn’t believed that you would keep your promise. After all, how could a broke college student repay her for designer clothes?

However, the next day you had showed up at her office, catching her as she was leaving for lunch with a grin on your face. “Hey, I told you I would repay you, right? Let me buy you lunch!”

And she probably should have said no. She should have known what would come out of this from the warmth you’d left in her heart as you ran off that day. But she hadn’t. Instead she’d agreed with a smile, holding up the keys to her car and offering to drive to the place of your choice.

Instead, she sealed her own fate.

“How do you not know any slang? How old are you?” You laughed from where you were perched on the couch, looking over the back with your head resting on your arms, watching her as she cut strawberries in the kitchen. With a huff, she playfully pointed the fruit knife at you.

“You know, you’re pretty rude for a kid. I’m not even thirty yet.”

“Only a year out.”

“Oh shut up. I was busy creating a business, I didn’t have any time to learn slang.” Her lips curved down into a pout, which only made you laugh again. Her competitors always called her scary, but she could never intimidate you.

“Right, right. Maybe I should teach you some, so that you can be hip with the youth.”

“And why would I want to be hip with the youth?” Irene asked, rolling her eyes scooping the strawberries into a bowl.

“Well, you’re dating one.”

Your words made her drop her knife into the sink, her body freezing for a moment. Quickly, she covered up her mistake by turning on the water and washing her hands, but her heart was racing no matter how nonchalant she tried to be. She was dating a youth. A youth who could drink and was in her twenties, but still a youth. And she didn’t understand half the words you said. Swallowing, she dried her hands and picked up the bowl of strawberries.

“I guess you can teach me some,” she said as she walked over to the couch, handing you the bowl. “But I can’t promise that I’ll be able to learn.”

You were quiet for a moment as she sat down beside you, then leaned your head on her shoulder. “Better late than never, right?” As if trying to chase away the awkward air, you nodded at the TV. “What do you want to watch?”

Still, Irene felt a weight on her heart as she settled in next to you, remembering how you’d fallen asleep the last time she’d chosen what to watch. Maybe she was getting old. Reaching for a strawberry, she gave you a smile that she hoped wasn’t too strained. “Oh. You can choose. I think I chose last time.”

“Hey, do you remember when you picked me up from college the other day? For dinner?” You looked uncomfortable, staring down at the plate in front of you with your hands in your lap. The two of you were eating dinner together once again, at a new place her friends had recommended. Despite the amazing smells and fantastic food, though, you’d seemed troubled all dinner. Now, Irene frowned, putting down her chopsticks.

“Yeah, why?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, twisting your hands together in your lap as you blushed. “Well, my friends are calling you my, um, sponsor.”

“Sponsor?”

“They think you’re my sugar mommy, basically,” you said, rushing your words as you flushed even deeper. Irene swallowed, her blood running cold. Suddenly she wasn’t so hungry anymore.

“I.... I guess I could see why they think that.” Her car wasn’t exactly conspicuous, a sleek brand-new Lexus that was so clean it gleamed in the light. “What did you-?”

You cut her off. “I don’t think of you that way! I tried to explain that we just met by accident and that you don’t give me gifts like that, but they wouldn’t listen! They said it was okay if I was getting paid to date someone, but they hadn’t expected it from me. I didn’t know what else to say. I’m not dating you for your money, but now that I think about it, it looks suspicious, the two of us together.” You were obviously flustered and upset by your friends’ accusations, but Irene wasn’t sure what to do. Still, she reached out her hand, offering her support, and after a moment, you took it.

“It was only suspicious because I was picking you up from college. When we’re out like this, we’re just two people. Nobody can tell that you’re a student or that I’m a CEO. And what other people think doesn’t matter, because I know that I love you and I’m not trying to pay you to be around.”

“I know,” you said with a sigh, squeezing her hand. “I just wish my friends didn’t think that way.”

“I won’t pick you up in front of them anymore. If there’s anything I can do to stop them from being suspicious, let me know.”

“Okay.” Your voice was quiet, and she hated it. She hated seeing you down when you were usually so optimistic. And she couldn’t help feeling that this was her fault.

Her secretary Yeri was looking at her with pursed lips, her eyes intense with scrutiny despite the early morning hour. Warily, Irene walked past her to her desk and sat her bag down.

“Is something wrong?” She asked, already knowing the answer. Yeri only got like this when something was wrong.

“I’ve heard from gossip around the office,” Yeri said, choosing her words carefully, “that you’ve been seeing a student.”

Oh. Oh god. Irene groaned and rubbed her hand against her head. Of course people were going to find out, but the wording made it sound worse than it was. “A university student, Yeri. There’s nothing illegal going on.”

“Even if it’s legal, don’t you think it’s risky?”

“Why?”

“No offense, but you’re getting older. What will the shareholders say if they find out?”

“If it’s not illegal, I don’t see why anyone would have a problem with it.”

Yeri rubbed at her temple, like she always did when Irene was irritating her. “It still doesn’t look proper. A CEO dating a college student? They’ll say you’re paying them to date you!”

“But I’m not. They can check my statements if they want. I’ve given them some small gifts and paid for some dinners but you can see that I’ve never paid them any money.” Irene was starting to feel annoyed. “Plus, if I’m making them money, can they really complain about what I’m doing in my free time?”

“They definitely can if they think something illicit is happening.”

“Nothing like that is happening.”

“Still, you have to think about it from their point of view,” the younger woman said, crossing her arms. “And what about the student? Have you ever thought that they might just be after you for your money? You’re a millionaire, you have to worry about these things!”

“I know (Y/N),” Irene responded, her voice tight. “She wouldn’t do that. We’re dating and we’re in love. Is that so wrong?”

For a moment, Yeri was silent. Then she gave in with a sigh. “Whatever. Just be more careful, okay? You know how easily reputations can be ruined. Even just by rumors.”

“I’ll be more careful.” What a way to start her day. Irene fell back into her chair and frowned. “And spread the word that I don’t appreciate the office gossiping about their boss behind my back. If they have a grievance, they can come and take it up with me directly.” She wasn’t usually one to feel angry. But she was tired from the stress of work and from staying up with you, and she was beginning to feel annoyed that the rest of the world thought they had a say in her relationship.

“Will do.”

One night, after a fitful sleep, she woke up to the moon slipping in through the window and to a headache behind her eyes. For a moment, she was confused at the warmth next to her, until she smelt your familiar shampoo and remembered that you’d come over to spend the night. Slowly and carefully, as to not wake you up, she sat up and glanced at her clock. It was 3am. She let out a groan and pressed her fingers to her forehead, annoyed with herself. She’d never let stress affect her like this before.

Not wanting her restlessness to wake you up, she slipped out of bed and headed to the kitchen to find her medication, hoping it would help her sleep.

For a while after taking her medication, she held onto her glass of water and looked around her large apartment. There were pieces of you everywhere, so stark and out of place that they were too obvious to miss. Your textbooks and backpack were on a kitchen chair, your slightly worn sneakers sat beside her expensive work heels, a YA book she’d bought for you when you wanted it peeked out among the reference books on her shelf, and your extra pair of slippers was covered in your favorite characters while hers were plain and grey. You’d slipped into her life, but it almost felt like you didn’t belong there, no matter how much her heart wanted you to stay.

Gulping down the rest of her water, she tried not to think of that. Instead, she washed the glass before heading back to the bedroom and climbing into bed beside you. The room was dark, but the moon outside was abnormally bright, and she gazed down at your features, relaxed and smooth. It was when you were asleep that it struck her how young you really were. Your hair was a mess and you still slept like you weren’t used to sharing a bed with someone, your limbs spread across her king sized bed. Where she was beginning to get lines in her frown and smile lines, your skin was smooth. The dark circles under your eyes weren’t as defined as hers.

Her heart twisting in her chest, she gently touched your face, running her thumb over your cheekbones. God, she loved you so much. To her, you were the most beautiful woman in the world. Maybe it was because it was late and she was stressed from work, but tears began to well up in her eyes.

She was too old for you. It hadn’t been long since you’d had your first legal drink, yet she could hardly drink without getting a terrible hangover the next day. You were still at the age where you liked to party and go out with friends, but she got headaches from loud sounds and preferred to go to bed instead of going out after work. She couldn’t go to clubs or parties with you, no matter how much you wanted her to. She was busier than you, she often had to go on business trips, she couldn’t always be around for you like another student could. She knew her long hours annoyed you, because the two of you had gotten into arguments about it before. But work wasn’t like classes: she couldn’t just skip her duties.

Biting her lip, she pulled her hand away and tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. What was she doing? This wasn’t right. None of this was right. She was stealing your youth away from you when you should be spending it with someone who could give you everything you wanted. Her gifts couldn’t make up for all the times she missed important dates and left you alone for weeks on end.

You stirred and she froze, staring down at you as you rolled over to face her and reached out your hand towards her. “Irene?” Your voice was rough and tired, and she reached out to grab your hand.

“I’m right here,” she replied, quickly wiping at her face.

“Mmkay. Just making sure.” A smile came to your lips and you seemed to drift off into sleep, leaving her to ponder in the dark, her heart torn into pieces of indecision.

“You’re going on a business trip again?” Your voice was rising from where you stood, leaning against the counter in the kitchen with your arms crossed. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your lips pressed into a frown that she was now seeing too often. “But you missed my birthday last year too! I thought you would want to spend it with me this time, but I guess I was wrong.”

“I said that I’m sorry.” Her words sounded void even to herself as she ran her fingers through her hair. “But it’s a business trip. I can’t say no.”

“You can’t even reschedule?”

“That’s not how these things work, (Y/N).”

“There you go again!” You stood up, your face flushing with anger. “You’re treating me like I’m a kid who doesn’t know anything about the world!”

“That’s because you don’t know anything about my world,” Irene replied, beginning to feel hollow. How many times had she had this fight with you before? “I have responsibilities that I can’t throw away just to spend time with you. I own a company, (Y/N).”

“I’m well aware. And sometimes, I think you care about that company more than you care about me.”

“That’s not true.” Her heart fractured and broke a little bit more, her throat burning as the urge to cry welled up inside her. Why was she crying so much these days? “I love you, more than I think you know.”

“Then why don’t you show it?”

“Because I can’t show it the same way that someone the same age as you might show it. I buy you gifts, but you say that you don’t want them because it makes people think I’m your sugar mommy. I offer to take you with me on trips, but you can’t because of school. I can’t pick you up for dinner anymore. But I try and I try to show you. I buy you flowers and I invite you over whenever you don’t have homework and I hold you ever time I get the chance. I tell you that I love you all the time. Every time you want something, I try to get it or make it happen. Is that not enough?”

You fell quiet for a moment. “I just wish you could spend more time with me. That’s all I want.”

“I spend every moment I have free with you.”

“Why don’t you give yourself more days off? You’re the boss.”

“That’s not how it works.” This isn’t how relationships work, Irene thought. We’re both in totally different worlds. Why did I ever think this would work?

“Why not?”

“Because I have to run the place. If I slacked off all the time, what kind of boss would I be?”

“I don’t know what kind of boss you would be, but you might be a better girlfriend.”

In that moment, Irene’s world fell down around her, and she accepted the truth. She accepted that this was never going to work. That she was never going to be able to give you what you needed in a relationship, and that you would never understand her world and the stress of it all. It took everything in her and made the tears spill from her eyes, but she finally forced the words out. “Then let’s break up.”

You froze, your eyes widening. Emotions flew across your face as you took in her words, before your shoulders slumped and the anger in your frown melted away. “Wait, Irene, what-.”

“We need to break up. This isn’t going to work between us, (Y/N), and it never has. I love you, I really do. But we can’t give each other what we need. We live in different worlds and we can’t understand each other. If we continue like this we’ll only end up hurting each other more. So let’s break up before that happens.”

Your lip started to quiver and Irene looked away, wiping at her face. She knew that if she saw you cry, she might give in. And she couldn’t give in.

“But.... I didn’t....” You seemed at a loss for words, as if you thought she would never say those words. In all honesty, she wasn’t sure she would ever say them either. “I never meant to hurt you,” you said, voice softer now.

“But you did. And I never meant to hurt you, but I did. We can’t continue like this, with you having to hide me from your friends and family because you don’t know what they’ll think, and with me having to hide you from the people I work with. I’m tired, and I’m sure you are too. It’s all too much.”

“I don’t want to break up with you. I love you.”

“I love you too. But surely you see why we can’t keep doing this.” She glanced up to see that you were crying now too, the anger gone from your body. “I’m sorry,” she said, and her voice broke. “But I’m breaking up with you for our own good.”

“Even though we still love each other?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, staring down at the floor. For a moment, there was silence, other than the sound of crying. Then you sucked in a breath and shifted, standing from the counter.

“When I graduate and get a job, will you give me another chance then?”

Her heart ached to say yes as she looked up at you again, taking in your face for what she knew was the last time. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I don’t know what the future will hold. But maybe if we’re meant to be, then we’ll meet again in the future. And maybe we can try again.”

“Then this is goodbye.” You stood across from her, your face streaked with tears, and suddenly the kitchen felt too big, and she felt too small. “Can I at least have one last hug.”

She had never been strong enough to tell you no. Despite knowing this would make it hurt worse, she nodded her head and allowed you to walk over and wrap her up in your arms one last time, hugging her like your life depended on it. For a moment, she sank into your arms and allowed herself to imagine a future where everything was okay and the two of you never broke up.

But then you pulled away, yanking her from her fantasy, and smiled. “I’m glad I met you,” you said, and she barely held in a sob, wiping at her face and feeling pathetic.

“I’m glad I met you too.”

She walked you to the door, helped you gather all your things, and saw you out. It was only when you were gone and the door was closed that she finally allowed herself to sob, her heart shattering as she sunk down onto the floor and buried her face in her hands.

Her apartment had never felt so cold.

Even years later, Irene had never forgotten about you, not really. Even though she’d tried to convince herself that she was okay, the suit she’d lent to you that day still hung at the front of her closet, and she often ran her fingers over the fabric and tried it on, only to look in the mirror and remember that it never fit in the first place. She went on a few dates that her friends set up for her, but no one ever took your place. Her bed stayed cold and empty, so instead she threw herself into her work, pushing her company further than it had ever been.

That was what she’d always wanted, right?

Her days all blended together, boring and bland and busy, until one day she sat down behind her desk and opened up a file of resumes only to see a name that knocked the breath out of her staring out of the paper.

(Y/N). Applying for the recently vacated secretary position, passed the test and first round of evaluations. She sucked in a breath, her heart pounding in her chest. Was it really you? After all these years?

She picked up her coffee and took a sip, trying to calm her shaking hands and push down the hope flooding through her body. If it was you....

There was a knock at her door and she quickly put down her coffee and straightened herself. “Yes?”

Joy, the HR manager, opened the door. “One of the applicants for the secretary position is here.”

“What’s their name?”

“Her name is (Y/N).”

Her heart climbed up into her throat but she put on her best poker face and nodded her head. “Send her in.”

Joy nodded and disappeared, and a moment later, the door was opened again by a familiar face with a warm smile that once again took her breath away. Just like it had years ago.

“Remember me?” You asked as you approached her desk, and she laughed. Like she could forget you. You were obviously older now, your features more defined, and you’d cut your hair, but you were still just as beautiful as she remembered.

“I thought it was you.” She wasn’t sure what to say as she leaned forward onto her desk, your file open in front of you. “But I never thought I’d see you here.”

You sat down and clasped your hands, and she caught a hint of nervousness in your mannerisms. “I didn’t want to let you go,” you said, your voice soft but steady, “so I worked hard to get my degree so I could come here. Will you give me a chance?”

“For the job, or for us?” Irene wasn’t sure what possessed her to make a joke, but when you laughed, she was glad she did.

“Both?”

“Well,” she replied, knowing that she still couldn’t say no to you, “we still have to do the interview. But I can say yes to one of those for sure.” At her words, you laughed again and held out your hand, and as she took it, she swore that her office had never felt so warm.

#femifics #red velvet #irene #red velvet scenarios #irene scenarios #girl group scenarios #kpop scenario #girl groups #kpop girl groups

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jiaraendgame · 4 years

Text

Manipulation — Part One

Summary: Why Rafe Cameron took an interest in a Pogue is unknown, but a year later a bad decision has a good outcome when a golden boy from the Cut makes an unwavering impression on this lost girl.

Warnings: Angst, sad, drug use/abuse, swearing, underage drinking, peer pressure. (I think that’s it?? If I missed anything for the warnings let me know)

Word Count: 3k+

A/N: This is a song fic based on Manipulation by Beartooth.

***Part one is all Rafe x Reader flashback. Part two is where JJ comes in. Oh and there is like a 2.2 second scene with Platonic!JB x Reader in this part.***

This is my first time writing for OBX and in general posting fanfiction for the world to see. So apologies cause it’s definitely trash. I just want to say a BIG thank you for the few people here who encouraged me to write and have fun. Also a BIG thanks to my best friend and beta reader @john-benderr for hyping me up and always supporting me and my silly antics. Hope you guys don’t hate it, I tried my best. Let me know what you think???

Gif credit: @toesure

I hesitated, got lost again

You saw me as wounded prey

I was a wreck, I was a bloody mess

And you couldn't look away

The Boneyard designated party destination here in the Outer Banks. The ultimate summer hang-out spot for some guaranteed wild moments. Even if you could point out every Kook, Touron, or us Pogues from the Cut, it was usually a good time. You never know what’s gonna happen on any given night, but you are sure to find people from all walks of life on this island congregating and partying. This is where you found yourself tonight, at a kegger ready to forget the responsibilities you held at least just for the night. The air was warm, and the party's noise swam through your ears, drowning out any reservation you usually have for yourself. You wanted to drown in this wave of overwhelming senses. The crackles from the fire, the music you swayed to, the sounds of people mingling and cheering, it swallowed you whole as you finished off another cup of bitter liquid. Was this your third or fourth cup from the keg? You don’t really remember anymore, but nor do you care. All that mattered is you were loosening the jaw you had tightened all day and was forgetting about the pressures you were facing at home. Nothing here mattered more than being free.

At this point, you had more than a buzz going on, but nothing was stopping your fun just yet. You clumsily weaved in and out of people working your way back to the keg ready for another round. You usually never drank alone, but tonight you weren’t in the mood for friends. At least that’s what you told yourself. In actuality, everyone you hit up to come tonight ghosted you or had some lame excuse as to why they couldn’t come. So you bravely chose to go as a one-woman show ready to conquer the party on your own. Never thinking that this night would lead you down a rabbit hole, you would never be prepared for. Stumbling forward lost in your thoughts, you slur your words to the tall and tan brown-haired boy with his button down shirt half-open handing out drinks from the keg.

“Hey man, hand me a refill, yeah?” Your sloppy words spill out of your mouth, letters all jumbled together barely coherent to the untrained ear.

The brown-haired boy looked at you a tinge of concern in his eyes as you were visibly wasted and clearly on your own tonight. You don’t know why it mattered. It’s not like everyone else wasn’t just as sloshed as you were.

“Uh, you sure you can handle another one, you look… well, you look pretty faded.”

The boy’s sentiment meant well, but it did nothing but annoy you. Why did everyone think they had to take care of you? Don’t they know you are beyond capable of doing so yourself? You work your ass off to keep everything in line, you can cut loose every once and awhile. Your inner voice of reason started to rear its ugly head, briefly reminding you how utterly irresponsible you were being. Listen to the boy, go home. You don’t need this. Stop acting so tough you aren’t that strong. It’s okay to feel the way you do. Quit while you’re ahead.

Quickly shoving the paranoia that began to rise in your chest, you knew if you could still feel the panic, then you weren’t drunk enough. Looking back at the boy, he was still eyeing you hesitantly when you finally sharpened your tongue and spoke again.

“Please, I know how to handle myself, pretty boy. I’m just living a little is all.” The attitude in your voice is far from pleasant.

Why were you so rude to the kind boy who clearly was watching out for your well-being? You should have listened to him. You shouldn’t have drunk this next cup. Maybe it was just the catalyst for the events that proceeded to perspire.

“Listen just… just gimme a refill, and I’ll be on my way. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me. I can handle myself, I swear.” While you wanted to sound sure of yourself and maybe even a bit assertive, you could tell he didn’t take you seriously at all.

Your amplified brash persona needed work clearly as it fooled no one while you were blurring the lines of reality and fantasy with each drink you took. The boy looks at you, and the small line starting to form behind you. He sighs to the side as he fills a cup with the amber liquid, finally obliging to your commands to avoid further conflict. While handing you the cup, he speaks once more before you swivel on your heels.

“ Hey, listen... if you need someone to bring you home later or whatever, just come find me. The names John B.”

You stood there bewildered for a moment, unsure why someone would have concern over you. You were just a drunk partygoer at the beach for some fun, why did it seem like you were so different than the others around you? You could take care of yourself you always have, but regardless it was a kind gesture. You felt a pit in your gut for being rude to him moments ago. You couldn’t answer him, you just looked in his eyes and shook your head with a softened smile. Hoping he would understand, you appreciated his offer.

New drink in hand, you stumbled to a clear spot on the beach and plopped yourself down into the ground. Removing your sandals, you buried your toes in the soft sand closing your eyes, taking a swig of your drink. You felt the air on your skin as you leaned your head back. A new sense of calm washed over your body as you faded into the scenery. Sip by sip, you felt all your grievances escape your mind. Nothing would stop you from releasing your mind tonight even if it tried to crawl it’s way back up the hole you shoved it down. If each sip of liquid kept the beasts at bay for just a moment, the tranquility you felt was worth every bit of hell you’d wake up to tomorrow.

You broke me down

So you could take me out

Lost in thought, you lay your body back into the sand, staring up at the stars in a dazed state. Not noticing the pair of eyes that have been watching you for quite some time. From a distance, a seemingly put-together boy traced his eyes along your body. Staring at every curve, every feature, watching every action you took, he knew he had to talk to you. What better time to make a move when you were finally alone, away from the hustle and bustle of the kegger and laying out on the beach staring up at the sky.

He’s been keeping an eye on you all night, watching you get more faded with each sip of every drink you took. Alone at a party, you don’t see that often around here. Everyone always pairs up fast, even if you did arrive alone. You well, you were different. Something about you drew this clean-cut boy to you, and he wasn’t quite sure why. Something about your solitude reminded him of something he couldn’t quite place a finger on. Or maybe it was how he watched you spiral, falling with no safety net beneath you. He decided tonight he would be the safety net, he would catch you, even if you didn’t ask.

“Hello, beautiful…” A voice speaks out, startling you as your eyes crash open. A light chuckle passes the boy’s lips at your shock.

“Sorry, darling, didn’t mean to startle you.” He smiles, flashing his gorgeous white teeth at you. “I saw you over here alone and thought you could use some company.”

You blink a few times, trying to focus your blurred vision. A boy whose outline was hazy hovers over you, still smiling that bright smile. However, something felt underlying off about his sheer confidence. It wasn’t much longer until you put two and two together. The boy in the salmon-colored polo shirt and the khaki shorts that stared into your eyes was the infamous Kook prince himself, Rafe Cameron.

Any other day of the week, you’d loathe the boy in front of you, he always caused trouble for anyone who came from the Cut. He bathed in his arrogance and condescending words. So why has the prince of Kooks wandered his way over to you was the million-dollar question. One that you’re not sure you’ll ever get the answer to.

You lifted yourself into a sitting position and still have yet to speak a word to the polished boy in front of you. He speaks once more, trying to pry words from your mouth with every smooth sentence he spoke.

“Aw come now, a gorgeous face like that shouldn’t be scowling by her lonesome. Let me join you, they always say misery loves company.” The tip of the boy’s tongue brushes his top lip as a sly smirk pricks the side of his mouth.

You cock your eyebrow up, but still, motion for the boy to sit next to you. You didn’t think you were scowling, but the more you focused your mind, it became clear you weren’t suppressing any of the facial expressions you thought you were. The alcohol tore down your mask a little more than you would have liked.

You finally spoke to the boy poised next to you, studying the side of your face. “Who says I’m miserable, what if I just want the company?”

A chuckle passes his lips, he knew he had his hooks in you now. You turn and face Rafe, knowing full well that engaging with him is a terrible idea, but sometimes you craved a little danger in your life. Danger, like getting involved with a Kook named Rafe Cameron, would entail. If it distracted you even just for the night then why not go all out, he was looking rather charming tonight.

“Ah, well, aren’t we all a little miserable? I mean, no one’s perfect, right?” His breathy words cause the curiosity inside you to rise.

Was the always well kept and confident Rafe Cameron telling you he and his Kook lifestyle wasn’t perfect?

It had to be the alcohol talking. It’s burning through your veins, making you actually consider speaking to someone so deviously pristine. Part of you believed it was to forget your troubles, the other part wondered what lies beneath the surface of the self-proclaimed prince. The more you gazed at him, the more sweetness you saw, but it wasn’t just that. There was something else about Rafe that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but maybe you two had more in common than you thought.

“Please, Rafe, don’t give me your pity party parade. People like you don’t know real misery.”

“On the contrary little dove, he who you see before you has many layers, my rips, and tears, however, are patched up and easily hidden. Yours, however… well, yours are prominent and hanging by threads.”

Ouch. There is the haughty personality that you knew would peek out eventually. The sting of his words appeared on your face as he tries to console the wounds he inflicted.

“Everyone is tattered and worn little dove; it’s how you patch those tears that matter.”

“What are you getting at here, Rafe? Cause it seems to me, despite how sweet you think your sentiment is, you just don’t know how to truly console someone you see as lesser than you.” You want to keep your annoyance you have with Rafe, but with each comment and... and that nickname, he cracks your shell a little bit more.

“I don’t believe you are less than me beautiful, I just…” He sighs. “You’re right, I’m not good at consoling others.” He pauses briefly before he continues, knowing he has to bring himself down a level or he won’t get anywhere with you.

“How’s this then… how about instead of talking we just keep each other company? You don’t even have to speak to me if you don’t want to, though I’d prefer it if you did.” A small wink is shot your way.

“We aren’t just gonna sit here in silence Rafe, I don’t want that kind of company.”

“Well… then how about we ditch the sand and trade it in for something a little more… luxurious?”

There it was, the danger you felt. An offer from Rafe Cameron to go, god, knows where to do god knows what. It excited you, the unknown world of Rafe. You hesitated, unsure if you were ready to fully plunge yourself into forbidden territory, but there it was again. The panic rising in your chest, the thoughts and stress you wanted to escape creeping up again, threatening to attack if you let them linger too long. With that, you took your red cup and downed the remainder of its contents, pushing back your burdens once more.

Looking into Rafe’s eyes, there was a sparkle of chaos hidden deep within his soft gaze. It made you weak, it made you yearn for something more than this party at the Boneyard. With that, your decision was made. You gave him a smile and shook your head, trying to contain the eagerness you suddenly felt.

This is isolation

Kept in the dark and waiting

You're wearing the crown of kingdoms I created

Now I can't escape it

All of the light is fading

Rafe was up in seconds, extending his hand down to you; an almost menacing smirk overtook his face. As you clasp your hand into his and you’re brought to your feet, you stumble into his side, gripping tighter to keep your balance. Rafe was quick to slide his free arm around your waist, steadying you.

“I got you little dove, lean on me. I won’t let you fall.”

His sweet like honey words swallowed you now. A flush of red kisses your cheeks. Was it his promise to not let you fall or was it the nickname he spoke to you that made your head swirl more than the alcohol ever could, you weren’t sure, but you wished the feeling wouldn’t stop.

It wasn’t long before you were in Rafe’s car and driving who knows where, but what you did know was the excitement you felt was overwhelming your fear.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going to show you what a real party is like, beautiful.”

The compliments he kept spewing towards you, a simple Pogue girl, was astonishing. You never believed a Kook like Rafe would see you as anything but a “dirty Pogue.”

“Can I ask a question?” You turn your head towards the boy.

“Of course, little dove. Anything.” He places his free hand on your bare thigh and a light squeeze follows it.

The shiver sent down your spine, tantalized your thoughts. You no longer could think straight. He glances over to you, a smirk once more gracing his lips.

“Why little dove? I- I mean, why are you calling me that?”

“Well, I thought that was obvious, darling? You know my name, but I still have yet to learn yours.”

Your face drops at the realization that you never indeed introduced yourself to Rafe. Of course, you knew who he was, everyone knew who he was, but you? You were no one. Of course, he didn’t know your name.

“O-oh my god, I’m sorry I didn’t even realize I didn’t... uhh,” you chuckle nervously at your idiocy. “The names (Y/N).” You spit out between nervous breaths and awkward giggles. The alcohol was still strong in your system.

A light, almost innocent laugh passes his lips, looking over to you. “It’s okay (Y/N), I don’t mind giving a beautiful girl a nickname that suits her.” He winks. “In fact, I think you’re stuck with little dove from now on… if you don’t mind, of course.”

You hadn’t realized the car had come to a stop in front of a vast mansion. The architecture was beautiful and symmetric with white pillars on the outside. Perfectly kept flowered hedges and trimmed grass graces the front yard. It was like a picture, pristine and undamaged.

“I-I don’t mind no… not at all.” You smile sheepishly towards the boy as he turns the key and shuts the ignition off.

“Well, here we are… are you ready for a real party?” He asks, stepping out and quickly meeting you at the passenger side. Opening the door, he offers you his hand once more.

Taking his hand, you lean once more on his side, steadying your balance. Unsure where the night is about to guide you. Despite the pristine image outside the house once in the door, the whole feeling has changed. There were Kooks everywhere, and to say you felt a little out of place was an understatement. Loud music blared through the open rooms filled with people drinking, smoking, laughing, and smiling. Much like at the Boneyard, but the atmosphere was entirely different.

Rafe sensed your new-found hesitation, but he wasn’t about to let you slip away. Not when he finally had you where he wanted. Pulling you closer to his side, he whispers into your ear—his warm breath causing you to gasp slightly at his now lower smooth tone.

“Relax… you can trust me.”

All you could do was shake your head. You weren't quite sure how this boy made you so weak at the knees, but you wanted to believe him, so you did.

He paraded you through the party, introducing you to the skeptical Kooks whose eyeballs felt like daggers in your chest. Their disdain and judgment of you unspoken with you wrapped around Rafe’s side.

Finally, on the last stop of the tour de la Cameron, he brought you through a room that outlooked towards the pool area. He brings you up towards a smaller group of people. Two of which you recognized as Rafe’s loyal posse. Topper and Kelce.

“Hey what’s up my man, where have you been all night?”

They exchange greetings and eyeball his new hip attachment IE you. They look over to Rafe with enigmatic smiles spread across their face, but before they could say anything to you, the boy spoke.

“Boys this is (Y/N), she came to experience what real luxury is like. So I expect her to be treated like the best guest of honor she is.”

Topper and Kelce share a glance and shrug off the ideas of Rafe, bringing a Pogue to their side of the island. They figured he had other intentions behind his new side piece.

“Right well welcome (Y/N) I hope you’re ready for some real fun.” The boys gleamed their fakest grins towards you.

Rafe pulls you over and sits you down next to him, a clear glass table in front of you. The other two boys sit across from you. After a seemingly relaxed conversation, he claps his hands together and lets out an excited laugh.

“Alright, boys, the real fun begins.” Looking over to you, he releases your hand that you’ve been holding and pulls out a small plastic baggy with a white substance inside. He makes quick work of the substance cutting out four clean and tight lines onto the table. Rolling a dollar bill into a cylinder, he passes it over to Kelce.

The muscular boy leans towards the table cylinder in hand against one nostril while he plugs the other. In one swift movement, the white powder was gone, and he passed the bill over to Topper. He quickly follows suit. Both the boys cheer out a sudden burst of euphoria that rattles their bodies. Looking on to Rafe as he was up next.

You pulled at his arm in shock at the site you’re seeing unravel in front of your eyes. He could see the worry written all over you.

“Don’t worry darling, a little blow never hurt anyone.” He pats your head, running his hand down your hair, and leans over and plants a kiss onto your cheek.

The sudden physical affection made you swoon as you bite your lower lip, still looking at him with concern in your eyes.

“I-I don’t know about this, Rafe.”

“Shhh, just watch it’ll be fine.”

He lowers his abdomen down with haste cleaner and faster than the previous boys; the powder is gone. Almost as if he’s done this regularly. Maybe Rafe Cameron wasn’t lying to you earlier. Perhaps he really was hiding an unseen misery. Your heart suddenly ached for the boy as he leaned up and pinched his nostrils a few times, sniffing back the remnants of the content he just consumed.

“It’s your turn beautiful. This will clear out all that misery from earlier, I promise.” He extends the rolled-up bill to you, his eyes darting down your body, trying to read your response.

You don’t speak. You just stare at him, and the boys across from you obnoxiously chuckle.

“Come on (Y/N) you’re a Pogue you should be used to this shit on the Cut.”

“Where’s your courage, girl?”

The boys tease as Rafe shoots them a glare, silencing them immediately. You reach out your hand shakily towards the rolled-up bill. Questioning why you’re even considering this. His words from earlier echo in your head, ‘you can trust me.’

“It’s easy, I promise I’ll even help you. Trust me, you’ll feel like you’re on top of the world. Once you’re there, the real party begins.”

“I-I’m scared.” You whisper to Rafe as he pulls you closer.

“No reason to be scared sweetheart, I got you. Remember, I won’t let you fall.” His hand cups the side of your face. His eyes looking deep into yours so soft and sweet as he's gently stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself you wanted to live a little. You wanted this freedom, this danger. So it was now or never. You leaned down as Rafe bends to help you. The boy pressed one of your nostrils closed and instructed you to snort in fast and move down the line. You shake your head, confirming to him you were ready.

“Come on, little dove… let’s fly.” These were the last words you remember hearing as you snorted your first line of blow. Rafe cooing to you as you faded out.

This isn't trust

This is manipulation

Taglist: @pit-zuh

(Tbh I wanted to tag a few other mututals but I’m nervous so sorry!)

Part Two coming soon-ish?

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pyrefell · 3 years

Note

Headcanons for some of the boys? Namely horrorfell, underswap and underfell?

you let me off my child leash and i honestly wasn’t even really sure where to even start here, so you get some pretty general headcanons. i have a lot to say about underfell and horrorfell,,,

UNDERSWAP:

IN ALL HONESTY, Underswap is currently one of my least developed AU interpretations. I'm still just really indecisive. BUT! I do have some stuff that I'm fairly set on.

Papyrus:

Never really grew out of the shyness he had as a babybones, he’s always had a much more outgoing brother to hide behind.

He's the one that designed the puzzles in Snowdin! Puzzles are still one of his special interests in this AU. (Sans gets really excited to tell anyone that asks that his Very Cool little brother designed them.)

He's fairly low to mid (but consistent) energy. He tries (and usually succeeds) to act all chill but he gets really excited about some things and can reach True Papyrus levels of loud.

He and Undyne are still friends in this AU! He doesn't go to see her super often because. Hotland. But when they are together, it's pretty chaotic. They like to design things a la Mickey's Dick Smasher.

Man, he's sure been feeling a lot of deja vu lately. Huh, wonder what that's all about. :)

Sans:

He’s still the Judge! And he's still the one that has to deal with the ever shifting and resetting timeline. It's...really starting to take a toll on him, but what's the point in telling anyone? They won't remember and besides, who's going to believe him anyways?

He was always fairly outgoing and bubbly but he took on an even more bubbly persona kind of unconsciously to overcompensate for and hide how Tired he is now.

Sans is just about the opposite of his brother energywise. He's full of energy for short bursts and then he sleeps for hours. He's started sleeping more since everything with the timeline started. It's not the best sleep but he’s just...so tired nowadays.

Still completely willing to eat condiments for a joke (or a """joke"""). He eats mayonnaise by the handful. Does it mostly to embarrass (and disgust) Papyrus.

Genuinely enraged by people who think he's young. Sure, he may be only a few inches over 5', but he's a Wide Boy. And not a naïve child, he's the older brother, thank you very much. Haven't you heard his voice? What kid has a voice that deep?

UNDERFELL:

One general headcanon I have is that they both have DT in their systems. Gaster gave them injections when they were still very young babybones in the sterile lab and they’d started mysteriously falling down. He’s not really a bad guy there, he wanted to save them. Of course, it’s probably got it’s side effects, right? After all the Bromalgamate and Comic Papyrus exist. :)

Their relationship is...strained. They definitely still love each other and would fight to the death for the other but they don't really talk. They both blame each other for how the other turned out, how they act.

Papyrus:

He’s blind in his scarred socket! He first got the wound when he was still pretty little and because he and Sans were still living out on the streets, he wasn’t able to get any real kind of medical care. It’s still pretty fragile but there’s really not a whole lot that can be done anymore.

He can cook! Like, really well, actually. Grillby taught him when he was younger. He’s particularly good at cooking with whatever’s already in the house.

I think he still wants to believe everyone can change and be good if they try. Though, whether he actually believes that anymore is kind of debatable. And I think that he doesn’t really enjoy all the fighting. He doesn’t take any real pride or joy in what he's become. He really wanted (and still wants) to actually protect monsters.

There's a square of fabric on his scarf that's from a well-loved blanket he'd had as a babybones. It still brings him some semblance of comfort when he needs it.

He's well aware of timelines. Well okay, 'well aware' isn't exactly the right way to put it. He can't put a name to what's happening, why he can remember things that haven't happened yet or have happened at all. He at one point attempted to keep a journal about it all but it was gone the next reset. He'd like to talk to Sans about it, but given how their relationship is...

Sans:

He’s got 3 golden teeth, he got hit pretty good almost directly on those teeth around the same time Papyrus got his scar. They were really loose after that but didn’t actually come out until later.

Most still see him as free EXP. He doesn't get attacked as much anymore but the times he has, he's been able to suffice on just dodging until Papyrus shows up. He could just as easily fight back, but he's decided there could be some benefit to hiding what he can do for just a bit longer. Besides, he'd rather not place any more targets on their backs.

He knows how to sew! He learned completely out of necessity when they were both young. They only had so many pieces of clothes, after all. He's the one who sewed the little square of Papyrus's blanket into his scarf.

King of eavesdropping. Despite his stature (and who his brother is for that matter), he's surprisingly good at going unnoticed. He tends to play like he's completely shitfaced and passed out at Grillby's, just in case someone lets something slip.

They both blame themselves for how the other turned out but Sans has it bad. He's supposed to be the older brother, right? He was supposed to keep Papyrus safe and stars, did he do a shit job at it, even if there were some things he just couldn't do anything about.

HORRORFELL:

OKAY SO, my Horrorfell doesn't start the same way the normal Horrortale AU starts. The short version is that Frisk doesn't fall until YEARS after they normally would have and they fall with Aliza. The Famine devastated the Underground. Frisk's left to try and figure out why they didn't fall when they should have and why they can't remember anything that happened during those years between. They have to balance keeping themselves and Aliza alive and trying to get through to at least Sans, who, while his memory is terrible he knows he's supposed to be pissed at them. They left the Underground to rot. I think that's all y'all really need lmao. I'm definitely going to write about Horrorfell, in fact I've already started something about it

ANYWAYS! On to the headcanons for the Boys. These two are so ride or die now it’s almost unreal. They’ve had a lot of time to air out their grievances and have the years worth of fights with each other. They work together so much better now and it comes in handy for both protecting each other and hunting. They're the most efficient and successful hunters in the Underground.

Papyrus:

He’s effectively completely blind at this point. He needs coke bottle lenses to see. He ends up completely depending on his hearing and sense of smell when he's hunting. Despite his failing eyesight, he remains the best chef in Snowdin after Grillby's disappearance. He's always sure to use as much as he possibly can.

His new stature has made it incredibly difficult to get into most buildings. He often ends up walking on all fours and his magic's started to adjust his body for that. He doesn’t recognize himself so much anymore.

While Sans was comatose, Papyrus spent his time trying to ration out food, attempting to keep the peace for the denizens of Snowdin and caring for Sans. He'd continued to cut his own rations not only for the rest of Snowdin but for Sans too when he hopefully wakes up.

He'd managed his way out to the rest of the Underground with his own brand of 'shortcut' earlier on despite the lockdown in Snowdin. Some say they'd seen him but no one's really sure if that's true and if it is, how did he get out? Can he do it again and maybe talk some sense into the Empress? They used to be friends, right?

His memory is also not very good. He and Sans keep a big whiteboard in the kitchen with pertinent information and there's a calendar in every room with all the past dates marked off, just in case someone forgets.

Sans:

The reason why the hole in his skull is so big and leads into his nasal cavity is because of preexisting cracks. Undyne really didn't mean to hit him! Really, she didn't...

The selfish part of him almost wishes the DT in him hadn't kept him around, but he can't bring himself to really want that. He can't leave Papyrus alone, especially not now.

His relationship with Frisk is...tense to say the least. When he first saw them, he didn't fully process who they were but he felt nothing but rage. He doesn't really believe what Frisk's saying when they claim they can't remember anything. Their relationship could absolutely mend, there's just so many roadblocks at the start.

Seeing as he can't reliably use his shortcuts anymore, he's not as efficient a hunter as he could be. But that doesn't mean he isn't extremely deadly. The brothers are revered for the effectiveness, after all.

He's developed some pretty nasty coping habits, most of which involve some kind of self harm either intentional or not. Papyrus tries his best to limit it, but he's not the best either.

#underswap #underfell #horrorfell #sans #papyrus #undertale headcanons #anonymous #long post #HATED reformatting this post lol #sorry for this absence. this post took WAY longer than i thought it would #i didnt proofread this post bc i didnt want to so if theres any errors. lol sorry

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arimendoza · 4 years

Text

to the anon who asked this: It’s loving cedric diggory hours in my brain so I’d love to read you venting your headcanons about him?? What do you think about his childhood and family and friends and what happened to them after (because Cursed Child isn’t canon)

tumblr deleted ur ask RIGHT as i posted it and im so sorry i hope u still see this bc i love it so much thank u for giving me an excuse to write about my favorite character :(((

i have a lot of feelings about cedric diggory

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

it’s always been one of my biggest headcanons that cedric is a slytherin secondary

we see him as being kind. he is kind. and good. and brave. but he’s also ambitious, driven, resourceful. cedric diggory is a strong leader. but his determination is a double-edged sword, and his ambition can become ruthless:

"i thought you were gonna let it get me." / "for a second there i thought the same."

so kind, yet with this underlying, almost desperate self preservation and ambition that he might not even realize isn't his

“he could have been anything.” but what does that mean? what did he want? or was he too busy thinking of what everyone else wanted?

because this is cedric diggory as we see him: composed, polite, the ideal and ultimate gentleman. intelligent, compassionate, reliable. powerful, intuitive, handsome. perfect.

but imagine, just imagine the intense pressure, the expectations, the constant delivery he feels he owes to people who perceive him as all those things, and then some.

this is largely because of how i see him growing up

amos diggory was nothing if not proud. so he did everything to transfer all that pride onto his only son:

private tutoring, gruelling flying lessons (all theory of course, though as soon as his father deemed him old enough, tested his natural instinct on a broom), and limited free time made for a clever boy, if not a lonely one

he didn’t see anyone outside of his immediate family much. they preferred to keep to themselves.

but he definitely saw all the other kids outside his bedroom window, laughing and playing and so free. sometimes he thinks about asking his dad if he could join them

but he can see the disappointed shake of the head, hear the “you were made for better things, my boy. greater things than playing pretend.”

and his mother, for all her kindness, he could never bring himself to ask. she never expressed direct expectations the way his father did. but cedric was clever. she didn’t have to say it out loud for him to know.

so he works. and perseveres. quietly and alone, until he goes to hogwarts

growing up, he wonders if perhaps playing pretend was all he was ever good at

he pretends his father is proud of him being sorted into hufflepuff

the letter he received was not scathing, but just had enough subtle disappointment in it that it crushed him.

he didn’t tell his father he was a hatstall. that he chose hufflepuff, in the end. in a way

“you’d do well in any house, you know. be anyone.” the hat had said

i just want to be myself.

“oh my dear boy. you don’t even know who that is yet”

he pretends he wants to be a Seeker.

also a fairly popular headcanon, but i do think cedric was aware he was not made to be one because of how he’s built, but did it because “Seekers get all the glory, son. and it’s always worth the glory, isn’t it?”

he becomes Seeker. he’s praised for his fast swerves. he tells no one how much pain it gives him to execute them. he practices day and night anyway

he becomes captain. it should make him happy, and he is. it makes his dad proud too, but his shoulders sag just a little lower as another weight is placed on them

he pretends he doesn’t care for art (“it’s silly, son. there are better things, more practical things.”)

but cedric loves poetry, the abstract. it’s why his favorite and best subject is charms

he meets a ravenclaw boy who likes to write poetry as well. they bumped into each other in the library in what was both their ‘favorite spot’

he plays quidditch too, thinks he has a shot at captain

cedric diggory and roger davies became fast friends

two sides of the same coin, really. handsome, intelligent, athletic. but a bit lonely, reserved. their silence is taken for cockiness, sometimes

the main difference? roger doesn’t much care for other people’s opinions. it’s where he and cedric clash, where most of their arguments stem from. but they do help each other grow because of it

he pretends he doesn’t need friends, but makes them anyway

his father always stressed the importance of good connections, for networking and all that. and even from a young age it was clear that cedric was charming. a natural silver-tongue. he could probably make people fall at his feet, should he have wanted.

but as much as cedric cared about his own reputation, he never much cared for status, and always saw the good in others. or tried to, at least

so he and roger became close. roger introduced him to cho chang. she was pretty, also reserved, also liked quidditch. seeker

he also grew close to hecate oakham and bhavana patel from his house. hecate was often alone, in her own head. she gave cedric fresh perspective and listened, always. he did his best to do the same.

bhavana liked spending time in the greenhouse. it’s also one of cedric’s go-to places to think, clear his head.

his father thought he could perhaps do better. cedric thinks he’s struck gold.

cedric loved his friends so much, and he thought then that this is the closest he’s ever felt to understanding, and being understood

although he could never fully drop the facade in front of them, he let them see him at his worst: his disappointment, his anger (when cedric is angry, he doesn’t show it, preferring to repress and then possibly write it out later. but when he’s angry, he’s angry, piercing. ruthless and relentless, words coming out in passionate outbursts, as if the air was crackling around him from wild magic. people would have called it uncharacteristic of him, but did they ever really know him well enough to think so?)

still, he would say these were the best friends he’s ever had. the best time he’s ever had. he was happy

and then he meets harry, properly, and he’s both elated and so, so afraid. he pretends it doesn’t matter.

(he pretends he wasn’t absolutely hit with guilt after winning that one match. first, because he felt like he didn’t deserve it. second, because people think he didn’t deserve it. that on any other day, his hard work would never amount to anything next to natural talent. third, because even after all of this, a part of him was still glad he ended up catching the snitch)

(he pretends he didn’t ask to see harry when he was at the hospital wing after that disastrous match with the dementors either)

he pretends he’s fearless. that he wants to join the tournament

he’s already a prefect. quidditch captain, on the way to head boy. why not eternal glory? it’s worth it, isn’t it? everyone thinks he could do it. everyone thinks he could win. everyone thinks he should

“you don’t have to, ced.” roger says.

“no, i do.”

he hopes the goblet doesn’t spew out his name. it does. he smiles, goes up. takes his place.

“good luck.” roger yells at him, concern in his eyes

he pretends he doesn’t know what their exchange really means

“dragons. that’s the first task.” i’m worried about you

“why are you telling me this?” worry about yourself, too

harry moves to leave. cedric pulls him back. harry stares at his hand. is this when you ask?

“the badges. i’ve asked them not to wear them.” are you okay? i care about you.

“don’t worry about it.” i guess not. but thank you.

he and cho pretend they want to go to the ball together

his father, of course, is elated. pretty, smart, athletic, from a good family.

she stares wistfully at hermione granger throughout the entire champions’ dance

cedric catches harry’s eye. it was like a million snitches were whizzing around in his stomach. not like how it was with roger, at first. this was so much stronger.

he pretends he tells harry about the egg only because it’s good sportsmanship. but harry is done pretending.

when cedric goes to congratulate him for tying for first place, harry kisses him

roger smiles knowingly when he he sees cedric at the library, absolutely beaming

but there was still that part of cedric, that voice in his head that tells him he’ll ruin it, that he doesn’t deserve it. it asks him, worst of all, will you still be happy, even with your father’s disappointment?

so when does cedric diggory not pretend?

when he writes, and shares his writing with his friends

when he laughs so hard he snorts

when he’s flying. not for quidditch, but for fun

when he kisses harry back

when he says ‘together.’

when he tells harry to stay back

(he pretends he was ready to die)

so this is cedric diggory as we deserve to have known him: flawed and good. imperfect and kind. conflicted and brave

he could have been anything, but we didn’t see him live long enough for even him to figure out what it was he really wanted to be, who he wanted to be.

the only comfort we have is, in his final weeks, those final moments, he could tell himself he was finally, finally proud of the person he was becoming

he hopes history will think the same

BONUS:

roger, cho, hecate, bhavana, and of course harry mourned him. quietly, but together

roger

his first real friend. his best friend. he saw cedric the most, physically and emotionally. he thought maybe one day he’d get to see all of him, his flaws and his grievances and his silliness. he’d like to think so. he will never know, now.

people thought he’d honor cedric through quidditch, or something of the sort.

he wrote instead. he wrote for himself, for cedric. eternalized through writing.

every year he’d write something for cedric’s birthday, go to his grave and read it out to him

he’s scared of the day he runs out of memories. wishes they could still make more.

but as he tells cedric of his life now, his hardships and his triumphs and how much he misses him, he thinks he’s doing his best.

in this own, sad way, cedric is still with him. this is how they will make memories.

cho

cho cries, has a hard time sleeping. dark circles, bloodshot eyes, his death affects her the most physically. she ignores the whispers, the confused stares at her emotional turmoil. but she has always been confident with her feelings, saw no shame in expressing them.

her performance falls in quidditch.

she remembers Seeking matches with him and later with harry, the way they’d laugh and how bright cedric’s smile had been

flying hadn’t been the same since. she hopes one day it will be.

next to roger, she visits cedric the most.

hecate

no one besides their circle of friends knew it, but cedric diggory was clumsy

she remembers the way he bumped into her when he was walking through the grounds, realizing he tripped over his robe

sorry he had said. i was lost in thought

he looked like he had a lot on his mind then, as if he expected her to laugh at him.

funny, she had replied. i’m quite the same. are you headed to the lake?

and she remembers them sitting there. in comfortable silence, in easy conversation.

now she sits alone, cries silent tears, watches them run and spill and imagines them to merge with the lake

bhavana

cedric was knowledgeable about plants, but his skill at taking care of them was...questionable

she caught him, in the greenhouse, monologuing to himself

she remembered him stopping abruptly, coughing shyly. but she only laughed, said your secret’s safe with me

so she plants in memory of him, watches them grow and bloom the way he never can, now, treats them with the utmost care she wishes others had with him

harry

harry stays angry for a long time

the nightmares come every night, except this time, he doesn’t wake up in cedric’s arms

he couldn’t bring himself to visit his grave. not yet. he doesn’t know when yet, or if he ever could.

cedric diggory is harry’s first real loss.

he could have saved him. if he had never let cedric take the cup, if he had recognized the place faster, if he just got cedric to not move forward for the sake of his protection.

this was harry’s new everyday, the what ifs running through his mind at every waking moment. and sometimes he hears a laugh, sees the way someone’s smile is crooked, a snippet of a song and everything is familiar and foreign and he aches and aches. and his heart breaks a little more

and it wasn’t love, not yet. but harry remembers the way they looked at each other, the way they smiled and laughed and played and kissed and were

it could have been love, and harry wonders if he’ll ever feel that way again

so he forms the DA, in cedric’s memory. meets with roger and cho and hecate and bhavana. they all stare at cedric’s picture in the room. haunted

and harry strives to do better. to be better.

(“who’s cedric? your boyfriend?” he was)

amos diggory mourned loudly. part of him resented harry, but only because the other part of him couldn’t help but think all of this was his fault, and his fault alone

if he pressured his son a little less, let him live as he wanted, and love as he wanted

if he spent more time with cedric

if he said the words “i love you” more often, told him “i am proud of you, always.”

but he tells himself cedric must know. cedric had to have known

he doesn’t speak to cedric’s friends. tries to forget about harry potter

a hollow shell of a man, mourning for a son he never really knew.

he hopes history will treat cedric kinder than he ever did.

#cedric diggory #harry potter #hedric #hp #reposting bc my tumblr glitched and deleted the ask im CRYIGN #usergeets #userblair #useremma #uservioleta #usertessa #userbrienne #userjamie #madelinosjournal #userliyah #usersimone #anon i hope u see this still i love u sm #headcanon #hp meta

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foxghost · 4 years

Text

Joyful Reunion, Chapter 20

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

Book 1, Chapter 6 (part 1)

“In the whole wide world, is there seriously no one who can kill Li Jianhong?”

Mu Kuangda lets out a long, long sigh, with the masked Chang Liujun standing behind him.

The great general Zhao Kui is standing across from Mu Kuangda. Zhao Kui is dressed like a literati scholar today, and he’s in the study practising calligraphy. Wu Du, standing at his side, does not speak a word.

“It’s not that they can’t kill him,” Zhao Kui replies, “It’s that they’re not permitted to kill him. Wu Du, Chang Liujun, Zheng Yan, as well as that Nameless One are all bound by the Zhenshanhe. As long as that sword is in Li Jianhong’s hands, then they cannot raise arms against him.”

Zhao Kui’s calligraphy is robust and decisive, each stroke spilling onto the paper like a rainstorm wrapping around countless blades.

“Since Nayantuo died,” Zhao Kuai says in a low tone, “it’s been difficult to find another who can rival Li Jianhong.”

“No matter how strong he is, he’s only human,” Mu Kuangda postulates, “And if he’s human, he has weaknesses. If he has a plan for everything and believes everything is going according to his plan, then there has to be some variable in those plans.”

Zhao Kui says, “Perhaps the Nameless One is his variable. That man first betrayed his teacher, then massacred his entire school — even now there’s been no explanation as to why. I already had him tracked down based on what Wu Du told me. He’s from the end of the Xianbei mountain range, and when Li Jianhong went on the run he also stayed there for a short while.”

Mu Kuangda brings a teacup to his lips, and after taking one sip he turns to look outside at the gallery. “I’m quite at the end of my rope when it comes to him — I can only leave it in your hands, General.”

“Aside from that, I remember there is someone still,” Zhao Kui puts down his brush, “who may be able to fight against Li Jianhong.”

Zhao Kui turns to Mu Kuangda. “But I’m in no position to hire him, so I can only leave it in your hands, Chancellor.”

Mu Kuangda looks pensive, but says nothing.

“When Master Wangbei was heavily wounded by Nayantuo, he passed the Duanchenyuan to Kongming.” Zhao Kui continues, “Master Wangbei had another disciple junior to Kongming who studied Buddhism without shaving his head. Later, he betrayed his sect and took Duanchenyuan with him.”

“Well we can’t count on Wu Du or Chang Liujun.” Zhao Kui heaves a sigh. “To them it’s permissible to kill anyone under the sun aside from Li Jianhong; he is the only exception”

“As for the Nameless One, he must be coming here on an important mission. The Mongolians have declared war on Liao; if things proceed as I expect them to, in a few months when war breaks out all over the place, Li Jianhong will definitely show himself.”

For a long time, Mu Kuangda stays silent, not saying a word.

The Mongolians are marching south and their advance party has already captured Huchang. From the bureaucracy to the common folk, the Liao populace are thus alarmed. Refugees swarm toward Shangjing. By the fifteenth of the sixth month, there were already near thirty-thousand people gathered outside the capital of Shangjing. Li Jianhong takes the highways with Duan Ling on horseback all the way to the city gates.

“Who’s there?!” The guard at the gate says, “Show your documents! We need to search you!”

Li Jianhong turns the horse’s head and whistles toward the top of the city walls. Cai Wen, charged with the city’s defence, spots them, and sends someone down to open a side door, letting the two of them in.

“Thank him,” Li Jianhong tells Duan Ling. From his perch on horseback Duan Ling cups one hand in another at Cai Wei, and Cai Wen returns the salute. Presumably, he’s too busy with work to come ask the two of them when they left the city and what business they had outside.

Though it’s only been a scant few days since they’ve been gone, by the time they get home, Duan Ling feels as though a lifetime had gone by. Since the moment he stepped out of the house that night to rescue Batu, he had involuntarily stepped onto an epic, momentous path — in a single night he has become part of the Southern Chen imperial clan, his father has somehow turned out to be the foremost warrior of the border, the Han god of war … and now with the sudden change in Southern Chen’s situation, Li Jianhong had no other option but to wander far from home, and the two of them must depend on no one else but each other.

After coming upon such a radical change to his life, everything that has happened before now feels unfamiliar. Lang Junxia’s secrecy, his father’s arrival — all of it has an explanation now

There is much you must accomplish in the future.

A lot of what he didn’t understand before, all at once he understands entirely.

In the corridor he sits beneath the eaves, staring blankly into the courtyard.

“Dad.”

“Hey, son.” On the other hand, Li Jianhong is acting the same as he ever was as he waters Duan Ling’s flowerbed with a water pot.

Duan Ling doesn’t say anything. Once Li Jianhong finishes watering the plants, he draws more water from the well, gets the rice steaming, and cuts up a fish next to the well as he makes a meal for Duan Ling.

This startling change has come too rapidly and too suddenly; Duan Ling has no idea what he should be doing with himself. He stares at Li Jianhong’s back, feeling as though the man Master Kongming, Lang Junxia, and the Madam of Viburnum knows of is somehow not the same one as his father. It’s just like a dream.

While Li Jianhong is shaving off fish scales he even takes the time to look back at Duan Ling. “Hungry? Food will be ready soon. Half an hour.”

“Dad,” Duan Ling says, “what should I be doing right now?”

Li Jianhong looks at him blankly for a heartbeat, then he starts to smile. He carries the fish into the kitchen, and Duan Ling chases after him, watching Li Jianhong from behind as he heats up the oil in the wok.

“You can do whatever you want,” Li Jianhong offers casually, “All those old grievances are your dad’s problems. In no way are they your fetters.”

“Your problems are my problems. What does a prince have to do?”

Li Jianhong makes Duan Ling step back a bit, and stands between him and the wok so the sputtering oil won’t splash onto him. He slides the fish down into the oil by the wok’s edge, and with a light splutter a mouthwatering fragrance fills the air.

“Your fourth uncle doesn’t have an heir yet,” Li Jianhong says offhandedly, “Even if he does, the future throne of Southern Chen is still going to be yours. You’re not a prince. You’re the emperor.”

Duan Ling stares at him speechlessly.

Liu Jianhong taps the edge of the wok with the back of his hand, and the pan-fried fish spins in the wok. Then Li Jianhong flicks it with a finger and jolts the fish into a flip. Now the golden side is facing up as it sizzles in the oil.

“When you study, you’re learning how to be an emperor.” Li Jianhong says with a smile, “it’ll save you from running around like a chicken with its head cut off when you take the throne. Do you remember what the great ancestor said?”

“Governing a large country …” Duan Ling is staring the fish inside the wok, “is like simmering a side dish.”2

“Exactly.” Li Jianhong says in deadly earnestness, “Looks like studying is useful after all.”

“But I don’t know how to do anything.”

Li Jianhong adds half a ladle of water, tosses in green onions, ginger, garlic, and throws a lid on it. He wipes his hands. “If you don’t know then learn. Your majesty, grab a bowl, it’s time to eat!”

Li Jianhong picks up Duan Ling sideways and drops him off outside the main hall. Duan Ling goes to set the table.

“When you have free time you can think about what you want to do once you become the emperor,” Li Jianhong says this to Duan Ling seriously during dinner.

Duan Ling nods, nonplussed. Li Jianhong bids him, “Before everything is done and dusted, just think about it to yourself — no need to tell anyone lest they get jealous. After all, of most everyone, nine out of ten of them can’t become an emperor.”

Duan Ling bursts out laughing. Sure, that’s true, but it just feels like such a remote thing. That night, Li Jianhong sits in the corridor beneath the eaves, arms wrapped around his knees as he watches the stars, while Duan Ling does some reading in preparation for the fast approaching exam. Little by little, he falls asleep while sprawled on the desk. Li Jianhong picks him up carefully, brings him back inside, and the two fall asleep on the same bed.

“A scholar mustn’t be anything but firm and persistent …”

The weather grows gradually hotter. Duan Ling recites the words of Zengzi3, and he cannot help himself from glancing at Li Jianhong, who’s reading a book next to him.

Li Jianhong cuts in sedately, “… for his responsibilities are great and his road is long.”

“For his responsibilities are great and his road is long.” Duan Ling recites along.

His head is full of questions. His father is all by himself, and the only person he can order around is Lang Junxia. Southern Chen has hundreds of thousands of soldiers and its territories are vast. With nothing but his identity as an imperial kin, how is he supposed to take it all back?

“Dad,” Duan Ling asks, “do you know Yelü Dashi?”

“I know him. He’s always pretending he doesn’t know me.”

Duan Ling looks at him questioningly.

Li Jianhong derides, “It’s for the same reason why when one person beats up another, the one who got beat up always tries to avoid him.”

Duan Ling stares at him silently for a bit. “Then will he come after you?” He has been thinking a lot in the past little while, and he realises that his father’s identity is rather sensitive. Once he’s on his own, his enemies will probably come calling.

“He won’t. We used to be his enemy, but not anymore. Yelü Dashi is an extraordinarily cunning man, and he’s always trimmed his sails with the wind. And besides, he has no idea I’m here.”

“Then what do we do about the south?”

“I’ve been considering that lately.” Li Jianhong thinks quietly to himself for a moment before saying, “Basically I just have to borrow troops, make alliances, cozy up to Liao, and resist the Mongolians. If Yelü Dashi would lend me ten thousand men it’d be a cinch to take down Zhao Kui.”

“Would he lend you troops?”

“Now that’s something worth thinking about, and that’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about. How do I give him a reason that he has no choice but to accept. I was talking to Batu’s dad that day about this very arrangement. I told him to deploy his troops to Yubiguan, that way Southern Chen’s army can’t make it up here, and Shangjing will have no choice but to ask for reinforcements from the southwest road.”

“And just like with Batu, leave me here as a hostage …”

“No way.” Li Jianhong’s expression darkens, and his tone turns sombre and cold. “You cannot say that again. In your eyes, is that the kind of man your dad is?”

Duan Ling can only nod then to indicate that he won’t say it again, and sneaking glances at Li Jianhong soon afterwards, he finds him looking a little bit angry. So he goes over and tries to smooth things out. Li Jianhong turns around and folds Duan Ling to himself with one arm. He says simply, “Yelü Dashi must not be allowed to find out who you are.”

Duan Ling hums in agreement. Li Jianhong says, “If anything changes, dad will discuss it with you. You don’t have to worry about these things.”

Duan Ling nods, and leans back in Li Jianhong’s lap to read and prepare for his exams, while Li Jianhong stares intently at a yellowed old map on the desk. On the map is the vast territory of the north, stretching south past Yubiguan all the way down to the Huai River, and it has a massive character written on it — Liao.

For days on end, Li Jianhong is pondering over this, while the day of Duan LIng’s examinations fast approaches. Speaking of which, oddly enough Duan Ling feels as though he’s grown up overnight; he seems to no longer care about all the other things he was so fond of doing before, and no longer clamours about wanting to go play. His life seems to have more important things in it, waiting for him.

This must be fate, isn’t it? He’s beginning to develop another sort of new, and intense sentiment about his father — his worship of his father has gone from a formless idea to a feeling that even though his father is his, he’s also responsible for many other people, a responsibility that cannot be shirked. Perhaps this is exactly what the headmaster meant when he spoke of benevolent rule. And this way of the benevolent rule belongs to both Duan Ling and his father.

Little by little, he begins to avoid bothering Li Jianhong, trying his best not to interrupt when Li Jianhong spends long periods of time lost in thought. Summer is here, and the call of cicadas is a constant thing; Shangjing’s summer days are dry and cool, with a fresh scent that lingers.

Today, Duan Ling walks through the corridor with a bundle over his shoulder, and turning towards the parlour where Li Jianhong is having tea, he says, “Dad, I’m heading to the entrance exam.”

Li Jianhong watches him from the parlour, his gaze is remarkably complicated but filled with a sense of warmth.

“You’ve grown,” Li Jianhong says.

Standing in the brightly-lit courtyard, Duan Ling bathes in the rays of the summer sun. He should be glad, but he doesn’t know why when he hears his father say that it makes him feel a little bit sad.

“But dad likes the way you are right now very much.” Li Jianhong rises with a smile. “Let’s go.”

Duan Ling wasn’t going to let Li Jianhong waste any energy on him, but Li Jianhong has never forgotten. Everything is already packed, waiting near at hand. He sets down the teacup now and picks up the bundle, to head to Biyong College with Duan Ling for his exams.

This is the first time Duan Ling has ever taken an exam, and above all else he feels a bit nervous. But Li Jianhong is telling him, “Don’t worry. If you don’t get in, then all dad has to do is spend some money to get you in for fun.”

Duan Ling starts to laugh, and that nervousness feels lighter. Biyong College is already overflowing with students coming here to take the exam, noisily talking amongst each other. Li Jianhong finds a seat and makes him sit down. Then he says quietly, “Dad will wait for you on that tree outside.”

A heartbeat of silence passes before Duan Ling says, “You should go home.” He’s feeling rather embarrassed, though the inside of Biyong College is quite crowded and no one has taken notice of them.

Li Jianhong sets the table for him with paper and brush. “You’ll have the opportunity to handle many grand occasions yet. Just write whatever you feel like. You don’t need to prove yourself with this sheet of paper. Dad believes in you. No need to take this too seriously.”

Duan Ling suddenly understands what Li Jianhong means and nods back at him. Mastering the literary and martial skills is for the sake of benefiting the imperial family, and since he is part of the imperial family, what’s there for him to worry about? What Li Jianhong probably means is that he needn’t put in too much effort, lest he stands out and draws too much attention to himself.

Li Jianhong gives Duan Ling a thumbs up, then he turns, and goes outside.

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From Laozi’s Tao Te Ching. ↩︎

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#queued #相見歡 #fei tian ye xiang #joyful reunion #xiang jian huan #fox translates things

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