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mistystepmoonbeam · 2 months

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Reborn in Baldur's Gate 3: Chapter 1

Plot: You’ve been reincarnated. It’s the realization you come to when the tiefling offering you a health potion introduces himself as Tav. You died and your soul revived in Baldur's Gate 3, at the beginning of the game no less. But you only have the memories of your past life on Earth, and none of your current one.

Tav invites you to join him on his journey, despite your lack of abilities or maybe because of it. You might as well go along with it; where else would you go with no memory of who you currently are, or knowledge of anything that lies outside of the narrative?

There is much to discover about your life in Baldur's Gate, and what transpires relies on the tiefling leading your group as Tav.

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: This is very self-indulgent so there will by a lot of Gale and Astarion.

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“I’m Tav.”

He’s a tiefling, you recall. Tall and bulky with curled horns. The dark gray skin tells you he’s descended from Mephistopheles, and his simple leather gear tells you he’s a barbarian. Huh. Yeah, that makes sense, he’s Tav, the hero of the game! Or…the villain? Your head pounds as memories flood back to you—tieflings, bards, goblins, vampires—you, sitting at a computer debating which choice would garner you the most favour with your companions in…

“Baldur’s Gate,” you mumble. You slap a hand over your mouth, staying on your knees as you blink at the tiefling. At Tav. He arches his brows and kneels beside you, offering you a small vial of red liquid.

“You’re from Baldur’s Gate, too?” he asks. “Drink this, it’ll make you feel better.”

Without much thought you take the already opened vial from him and swallow it down in one small gulp. With a deep breath the pounding in your head subsides and you can think a little clearer. Maybe not clear enough to fully comprehend that you’re currently in a video game, or that there’s a small wriggling behind your left eye which means…

More images come to you, a mind flayer holding a worm with too many teeth to your eye, a githyanki—Lae’zel—pointing a sword at you, and then falling from the ship. The nautiloid. Tav’s memories of the ship.

Tav winces as the visions fade. “Guess you got one of those, too.”

A chill runs down your spine, through each and every bone of your body until the squirming thing behind your eye stops movement all together.

“I uh…” You look around at the crash area, taking in the rocks and splotches of fire dotting the land on one side and water on your left, until you meet the gaze of a raven-haired half-elf.

“This one doesn’t seem to be all there,” she says. Her voice is as smooth and condescending as you remember, and you find it endearing despite the insult.

“Give them a moment,” Tav responds over his shoulder. “It’s a lot to take in.”

Yes, especially because this is most definitely a dream. A very vivid, painful, exciting, insane dream.

“What’s your name?”

You fear all you can do is blink. You tell them your name, voice as shaky as your body. There’s a tremble in your hands that you can’t control, even with a hard grip on the now empty vial. “And thank you…for the potion.”

Tav lifts, holding a large sharp-nailed hand out to you. “Can you stand?”

You nod, taking his hand and letting him lift you to your feet. You let your hand drop to dust off your clothes, nothing that you remember wearing. The last thing you recall was going to bed in a tank top and shorts but you’re now wearing a dark blue overcoat atop loose fitting pants and a fitted shirt. The borders of the coat are stitched with gold swirls, and based on the softness of everything you wear it has to be expensive. Somehow, after everything (whatever the Hells that involved) you are quite clean. Not to mention the bag that hangs at your hip beneath your coat is quite heavy, and another bag that wraps around your waist and sits at your back has the contents clinking together when you move.

You look like a caster of some kind, but you can’t tell which. You can’t feel anything that would indicate your abilities, but some cold sensation at the back of your mind tells you you can do something. Like another limb sits in your mind, waiting to be moved.

“We don’t have time for stragglers,” Shadowheart says.

“Yet I helped you,” Tav counters. There’s a playfulness to his tone that doesn’t match his furrowed brow.

Shadowheart concedes. “Fair enough. You’re welcome to join us in our search for a healer.”

You nod. Yes, a healer! They’ll be able to—pain strikes your temples as another memory clouds your mind.

A truck careening at you, horn blaring—a sharp hit of adrenaline and then…here.

“Oh my God I’ve been isekaied.” Your revelation earns you quizzical looks from Tav and Shadowheart. Reincarnated. Just like those cheesy but addicting books about a girl being reincarnated as a villainess in some cheesy addicting romance novel. You press your hands to your face, feeling familiar features but still wary. “Quick, what do I look like?”

“A lunatic,” Shadowheart answers.

Tav hesitates, but describes you. You. Not some other face, not a character you recall from the game but you. Regular human you. You sigh, relief flooding over you.

“As…interesting as this conversation is, we should get moving,” Tav says.

“Agreed.” Shadowheart doesn’t move until Tav heads to the only direction you can go, near part of the crashed ship.

“We need to find Lae’zel,” Tav adds.

“Less agreeable,” Shadowheart says. “She’s probably long gone by now, if not dead.”

“Well we should still keep an eye out.”

You follow the two into the still burning wreckage where they suddenly stop and draw their weapons—Tav a large axe, and Shadowheart her mace and shield.

“Intellect devourers,” you conclude. Three sit at the far end of the ship, scurrying towards you at a frightening speed. With one slash of his axe Tav takes out two of them before they can get close to you, and Shadowheart smacks the other one down. All defeated in what? Three seconds?

The three brains bleed out and flop to their sides, clawed limbs twitching.

“Vile creatures,” Tav says, holstering his axe. You expect the two to keep moving and check the nearby bodies for gold and supplies, just as you do in the game, but they don’t. They walk right past the dead man without rifling through his pockets and as you step by you feel your stomach lurch. To see a bloody disfigured body in reality felt very different from the game. The vacant eyes staring upward, pieces of flesh torn from his stomach…It isn’t until a hand covers your eyes and directs you forward do you realize you’d stopped.

“Just keep moving,” Tav says, keeping his hand by the side of your head so you can’t see the body. When his hand falls you keep your eyes on his swinging tail, and follow after him as he turns and moves into the sun.

Barrels and a broken down cart let you know what’s coming next—who’s coming next.

Your excitement strikes you then, still shaky and confused but awake. You’re in Baldur’s Gate 3, with Tav and Shadowheart, and hopefully all the others.

Your eyes scan the water nearby, debris scattered everywhere until you spot a dagger on the dock. Tav and Shadowheart watch you dart over and pick it up.

“I thought you would be one to attack with words, not knives,” Shadowheart says coolly.

You stash the dagger in a boot, smiling at Shadowheart. Gods. She was pretty as pixels but seeing her in the flesh, she was something else. “Well, words aren’t always the best weapons.”

“Can I get some help?”

You recognize the voice without needing to see the speaker. Astarion is just up the hill waiting to ambush Tav and…kill him depending on how he answers.

Based on how Tav darted ahead at the sound of someone in trouble (albeit fake trouble) you figured it wouldn’t turn out too terribly. So they had skipped over robbing the dead, and didn’t explore every corner of the map looking for treasure chests…that didn’t mean things would be different with each companion intro, right? There’s a plot here, and it has to be followed to a certain degree…right? There were no screen pop ups to decide dialogue and you all appeared to have free will, which was good.

Right?

Your thoughts did little to comfort you as you climbed the hill to find Astarion already pointing his blade at Tav who was apparently perceptive enough to dodge rolling around in the ground with the vampire. You stopped next to Shadowheart, at ease just watching the situation unfold.

Both men twitch and writhe as their parasites connect. When their visions fade Astarion questions it, and Tav answers honestly about being in the mind flayer ship and what the worms can do.

You study Astarion’s face as he realizes that he’s somewhat free, but there’s a time limit to the incubation period. Tav offers for him to join your trio, and just like you remember, he agrees.

“Splendid,” Astarion says. “Lead on.”

At that the vampire meets your eyes. Icicles dance up your spine until they pierce the back of your head, making you wince and hold a hand against the spot.

You grunt at the sudden pain, the sound quiet but drawing attention all the same. You wave the eyes away from you with your free hand. “Sorry. Head still hurts a bit from…having a tadpole put inside it.”

Nobody questions that, though you know it was something else. Every time your eyes even flit in Astarion’s direction you can feel a push at the back of your head, that phantom limb clenching as if trying to stretch and release itself. You wish you could say it was the tadpole, but it feels nothing like when you connected with Tav.

“Well let’s just try to keep our worms separate,” Astarion says, seemingly at you. “I don’t need to see what’s in your head anymore than you do mine.”

His eyes linger a moment on Tav. You nod your agreement though he isn’t looking at you now.

“I saw some footprints along another path,” Tav announces. “There could be other survivors.”

There doesn’t seem to be any question as to who is in charge. Shadowheart insists on searching for a healer but with a quick convincing from Tav you’re all headed towards a strange looking purple sigil.

“Looks unstable,” Shadowheart says.

“Best left alone,” Tav agrees. It was just like a friend's first play through that thought the sigil would kill them, so they never had Gale join their party. It wasn’t a totally unfounded theory—swirling, sparking voids did seem like something that shouldn’t be touched but everything in this world had a purpose. Anything out of place or, well, glowing, was important to the story.

But then the group is walking toward the bodies of three goblins discussing supplies.

They’ll steal from goblins but not humans? Seems odd but maybe you’re the weird one being so willing to pillage the dead, no matter their race. You frown, looking back at the sigil and knowing who is inside. “You sure you don’t want to see why it’s like that?”

Astarion is observing his nails while Tav loots the goblin bodies. Shadowheart kicks one of the bodies out of her way once fully plundered and looks back at you. “Be my guest. But if you get sucked in don’t expect me to come looking for you.”

“I’ll come look for you,” Tav states with a cheeky grin, hands inside a dead goblins pockets. It makes you smile back, so…kind and disarming. You recall barbarians didn’t have high charisma, but Tav seemed to have it in spades. Or perhaps your recent head injury was clouding your judgement—after all your reaction to being reincarnated, to being dead, was quite tame.

“Ah, a true hero.” Astarion looks between you and Tav, eyes narrowing as if trying to solve a puzzle.

You turn your attention back to the sigil, taking a small step towards it when an arm pops out.

“A hand?” a voice calls. “Anybody?”

You slap the waxing hand immediately without a thought.

“Perhaps I should have been more specific,” Gale says. “A helping hand please?”

“Oh, right!” You quickly take his hand in yours and tug to no avail.

“Keep trying!”

You pull harder, wondering if you were going to end up holding a severed arm in your hand as the sigil sparks brighter and buzzes with energy. You choose to ignore those thoughts and keep trying to free the wizard.

With one final pull the person connected to the arm comes tumbling out of the sigil. If it had been Tav to pull Gale free you’re certain it would have been a smooth experience, and he would have stepped back and dodged getting shoved to the ground by the sudden lack of resistance. But it wasn’t Tav, it was you, and instead of dodging the wizard your feet tangled with each other and you both went down.

The wind is knocked from your lungs with Gale atop you, his forehead connecting with your sternum and leaving you gasping for air. Strands of his hair fall onto your lips, soft and smelling of something spicy while his left arm is wrapped around your middle, the other braced against the ground. You realize he’d been trying to protect you on the way down, but wasn’t quick enough to cover the back of your head, which now throbs from the fresh battering.

“Ouch,” you croak, voice barely making it out of your throat. Footsteps approach until Tav, Shadowheart, and Astarion are hovering over you, each with a small smile. Well…Astarion’s is more of a smirk…

Gale pushes himself off of you and before he can say anything Tav has his hands beneath your underarms and is pulling you up. His hands slide to your back until you’re steady enough to stand on your own and thank him, rubbing at the back of your head again.

Throbbing is better than stabbing, you suppose.

“Apologies,” Gale says as he smooths his hair back, “I’m usually much better at this.”

You continue to rub the back of your head as he and Tav exchange dialogue, much of it going in one ear and out the other as you focus on the pain radiating in your skull. You squeeze your eyes shut and let your hands fall to your sides, giving in to the fact you can’t rub away whatever sensation is there.

“And you my friend.” Gale is in front of you, drawing your gaze to meet his. “I am truly sorry for landing on you, but extremely grateful for the help.”

You can’t stop your smile at him anymore than you could with Tav. “Happy to help.”

His eyes stay on you a moment longer than appropriate, but when they drape down your body you think he’s almost sizing you up. For a fight, or romance, or maybe to steal your coat you aren’t sure.

You look to Tav for direction, waiting for the leader to…well, lead. Lae’zel should be next, but that’s when you notice you have an extra member. With you there it makes five travellers, but nobody has been sent to camp yet. Wherever that is. While you’d like a moment to sit and organize your thoughts, the idea of heading somewhere on your own was terrifying.

“I hear voices over that ridge,” Astarion announces. Everyone turns towards where he’s looking, just a few feet ahead where the path winds up and you know you’ll find two tieflings looking at Lae’zel. But you can’t hear them yet.

“Let’s check it out.” Tav is already moving before anyone can object. And like ducklings you follow him with Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart.

Taglist:

@half-poison-and-half-hope

#reborn in baldur's gate 3 with no memory and plenty of gold #x reader #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #gale dekarios x reader #astarion x reader

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

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hello gorgeous! if you don't mind modern au, i have an idea. if you don't feel like writing anything it'd be great to hear your thoughts abt it. daemon x wife!reader (who's somehow connected with magic but not targaryen) who are devoted to each other like madly in love. before daemon has to go to war they're saying goodbyes kissing, crying and not being able to let the other go. feeling like something's off he says smth like "i'll find you in another life. i'll find you in any time we'll be existing. i will love you any time i am alive" (in high valyrian or calling her some name in it) kissing her knuckles and going away. unfortunately, he was right. reader died some way while he was away and he remains faithful to her for the rest of his life (oc but whatever) and in the modern world he does find her. maybe targaryens are some sort of royal family, maybe they keep a family business or an ordinary family with lots of relatives. but he fins the reader and they somehow just feel. sorry if it's too much. i'd really like to read something about it but it absolutely ok if you don't feel like it. thank u in advance! take care!

Waiting For A Lifetime

Part 1 2 3 ?

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Aegon Targaryen x Reader cos it just sorta happened

Summary: Overcome by grief, Daemon turned to black magic to revive you. Moved by pity, the witch who casted the spell promised you would live until you met your love again in his next life.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Modern AU, fem!reader, mentions/depictions of death/still birth/war, my pretty boy aegon whom i would die for, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: i saw this last night when i woke up in the middle of my sleep and couldn't stop thinking about it. I changed a lot about your req nonnie. I do hope you still like it though. I absolutely could not help myself with this one and I got so carried away T_T also a lot of facts about the Targaryens have distorted so just just just roll with it ok ok ok thank you And yes i know this is a gif from the crown but i love it so much the hat falling off the kiss ITS EVERYTHING I WANT TO BE HERRRRRRRRRRRRR also i do acknowledge the fact that this anon came to me with this idea after i reblogged this amazing moodboard sooooo yeah i think this post sparked this fic idea lol ALSO ALSO ALSO 2022 MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!! LOVE YA ALL imagine seeing this post in like 2032 or smth shit thats like 35 years from now Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony pssst i made p2 "Never Before"

Daemon's face was streaked with tears and sorrow. His eyes were bloodshot and his voice was as sure as it was grave as he repeated the word he uttered to the shaman, "anything."

She looked at him, able to taste the desperation in the air, "even if it costs your life, prince?"

Daemon looks at his love before him, his love that was carrying his child. He places his bloody palm on the gaping wound on her stomach.

"Your child will not live even if she does."

Daemon screws his eyes shut tightly. He begins to quiver in anger, in grief, in pure sorrow. He mutters, "anything," he slowly opens his eyes to gaze upon her lifeless face, "better it me than her. There is no world worth living without her."

The woman narrows her eyes at the prince. She knew he was the Targaryen, once heir, known to be rugged and harsh. The Rouge Prince. Yet, there was no trace of malice within his being, only what she would describe as true devotion, true love.

"So, may it be done by the gods old and new," she says, drawing the prince's attention to her, "I will plead for her soul that she may live."

Daemon watches the witch, as she stands to her feet from the ground they were both sprawled on, in front of the body of the dead woman.

"I will plead that she may live long enough to meet you again in another life, so that you may have the love you have now once more."

"Another life?"

"Yes," she says, "the gods recreate humans they are pleased with to grace the earth again. I am certain they will let you be reborn to be with her again. I will make it certain."

Daemon grabs the cold hand that was beginning to stiffen.

"Although, I am unsure if they will allow you to remember her."

"I will remember her," Daemon retorts, kissing the hand of his love, "I will remember her no matter form I take... I will, I must."

"So it remains to be seen," she says before speaking out her incantation.

And it would not be seen until nearly 2000 years later.

The times have changed drastically. Women wore pants and voted. Men where made to take more responsibility for their actions, though still got away with things.

And yet...

... my love for him never faded.

Every prince that was born and named Daemon, I hoped would finally be him. It went about like this century after century, war after war, plague after plague, rise after fall. I had feared the Targaryens would die out, but they proved to be as strong as the very foundations of the earth.

And it took the televised of the marriage of Viserys XXIX to Duchess Aemma of Eyrie for me to see the face of my love: Daemon, the Wild Child, the Knight of Knickers, as penned by the press. Ultimately, the prince of my heart.

I burst into tears when I saw his cheeky face as he nudged his brother at the isle. I pressed my hands on the screen, thinking to myself, the wait was finally over, he was finally here.

All that was left was for me to meet the Prince of Valyria.

Yes. That would be no problem at all.

Except it was, because Daemon was just as mad as he was in this life as he was in the last.

After all, he did not get those nicknames from the press for nothing.

I used up so many of my resources to even just get a glimpse of him. It was hard to catch him in one place. I mostly caught him with a scandalous headline in the cover of magazines and newspapers.

Tonight, it was a newspaper.

"You know," the bartender taps his finger on my newspaper that was sprawled out on his bar, "he's a frequent here."

I turn to the blonde, in his white dress shirt, black waist apron, and black slacks. I raise a brow as he purses his lips as though the information was ground breaking. He wipes on a glass with his blue towel.

"Gee, Aegon," I lean on the surface before me, "I would have never guessed that from the picture on the wall."

I nod at the said picture. It's one of Daemon and the current owner of the bar, Tywin Lannister, who also happened to own Lannister Land Corp, shaking hands. Oh, Lannisters.

"Hey," Aegon shrugs, pulling his lips down in a nuff-said manner, "it had to be said, since you're literally the only patron here that has not interrogated me with questions about the Knight of Knickers."

I snort, "then allow me to change that," I rest my head on my hand, "is he truly so dashing that his looks practically steal the knickers of the ladies around him?"

Aegon finishes buffing his glass and puts it down, looking up in thought, "mmm, I think it's mostly cause he's a prince that he's got the effect he's got. I've got no idea what possessed the first girl to throw her panties at him."

I giggle, "are you saying the prince is ugly?"

"Bit harsh, innit," Aegon pulls back, getting another glass, rubbing it down with his towel, "your words, not mine."

I roll my eyes, shaking my head, as I laugh at the light haired boy's muses, "you know, if we had been living at the height of the Targaryen rule, Daemon would have had your head for that, pretty boy."

"Gods, to be beheaded," he sighed, "a dream, rather than working here, taking about some monarch who lives off the money of the people."

I snort once more. Aegon's face softens as he breaks into a laugh himself.

"No, but honestly," he says putting down the glass and the towel, "you, my dear, are my saving grace. The highlight of my begrudgingly stretched out day," he stretches out a hand to me.

I chuckle at him as I take his hand. He presses a kiss on the back of it, making me grin at him in amusement.

"You're the only sane person here," he releases my hand, "everyone else is so desperate to brush shoulders with the prince, or simply even catch a of whiff of his flatulence."

I break out into a fit of chuckles, slamming firmly at the wood between us.

"No, I'm serious! I heard the fittest gal, a total bombshell, boasting with pride about how she managed a sniff of the bloke's fart."

I'm wheezing with laughter, unable to believe what I'm hearing.

Aegon releases a deep and dramatic sigh, "what has the world come to?"

I wipe a tear as Aegon watches me empty myself of laughter. His face crinkles in a pleased expression, Adam's apple bobbing as he chuckles airily.

I sigh, catching my breath, "well, if I ever become that desperate, I ask that you pray for my soul."

Aegon presses his palms together, "praying for that girl as we speak."

I chuckle, folding the newspaper before me, "I must say, I am actually desperate to meet the wild child myself."

Aegon drops his hands along with his humored expression.

I cannot help but laugh at him as I continue to fold the paper, "though, I would say I am the desperate kind that is so desperate..." I eye him as I press the grey material together, "that I, somehow, dread to meet him at all."

Aegon snorts, screwing his eyes shut as he wipes his face, "the Stranger. Don't say things like that! I nearly had a heart attack believing you."

"No, but it's true, Aegon!" I say with a faux wounded pout, "prince Daemon is my great love, we have been destined to meet for millennia!"

Aegon leans on the table, humming as he nodds his head, "yes, and I suppose I am Aegon the Conqueror."

I lean towards him and grab his jaw, "no, you look more like Aegon II. The spitting image, I dare say."

He scoffs, swatting me off, "I'm hotter than him."

I pull away, "yes. That I can agree with, pretty boy. Personal hygiene does wonders."

Aegon snorts and plays off the blush on his cheeks by wiping his nose with his thumb, "you speak as though you met him."

I straighten up, "that's because I have. He was once my nephew."

He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. His face contorts at the thought.

I raise my brows at him, "have I not told you I am not only a Targaryen historian, an expert at that, but I am also a patron of the Museum of Ice and Fire? I'm married into their family."

"Okay," he raises a finger, "ew."

I snort.

Aegon lifts his jaw and hums, "well, now that you mentioned it, I always knew you were one of those insanely rich blokes who frequent here. I was thinking you were a mafia boss or something though."

I scoff in amusement, raising my brows at him.

He pushes his white sleeves up then raises his hand in defense, "you have a very intense aura about you."

"That's because you trigger my fight mode," I retort.

He huffs, "do I? I'm scared to know what you'll do to me when I've seen what you do to men who hit on you."

"Aww, don't worry," I coo, "I wouldn't hurt my pretty, baby boy."

Aegon doesn't get to reply when a customer calls his attention. With this, he pulls away and leaves me to my own devices.

We don't get to continue our conversation at all, for it was clear that the rush hour had begun.

I eventually pulled back and decided to entertain myself while my favorite bartender was busy. I swiveled on my stool, looking out to the room, spotting the jukebox collecting dust in the corner. I smile at the sight of it, thinking about how it was still here after all these years, in spite of being older than Aegon.

I stand from my seat and walk over to it.

Aegon, finding one patron missing, frantically looks around then calms, raising a brow.

I place my hands on the jukebox, bending over to check if it was plugged in.

Aegon snorts as he hands a man a beer, eyes not at all fixed on him, "that doesn't work, love."

"Mmm, ye of little faith."

Aegon is annoyed by the man that sits on the vacated stool, blocking his vision. In retaliation, he blocks out the sound of his voice. Aegon calls out, "if you can make that hunkajunk work, I'll clear your tab for you."

I chuckle as I pull the machine forward, checking its wiring, "I wouldn't want to make a kid working on minimum wage to pay for me at all."

"I only said I would clear your tab, doll face," is all he replies before he goes back to tending to drinks again.

I break into chuckles as I fiddle with the wires on the back. I admit, it took me quite a while to go through everything, which was why Aegon warned that he would not call an ambulance for me if I got electrocuted.

The sight of the jukebox coming to life was enough to shut him up.

I get to my feet with a huff, brushing my hands off with each other. I turn to Aegon, who was already looking at me in astonishment, along with a few other people in the room.

I smirk, "my tab then?"

"Good as gone," Aegon shakes his head in disbelief, cutting his hand across his neck.

I release a satisfied sigh as I punch at the hardened buttons and play whatever it was that was available to be played.

When the music starts, I close my eyes and allow myself to drift off with the music. The sound brings back some memories I had in the 1940's. If I recall correctly, it was around this time Daemon's father, King Baelon, was crowned.

I slowly moved to the rhythm of the song, swaying my hips, waving my extended arms out as I made my way to the center of the room.

Aegon stilled in his spot upon seeing this. His breath caught in his throat and he was only brought back to reality when someone demanded a gin. He looked around the room as he poured that idjit his drink and clenched his jaw tightly when he saw the onlooking crowd.

He snorts loudly, grabbing his towel, throwing it over his shoulder roughly, clearing his throat with more noise than necessary.

I smile to myself when I hear Aegon's familiar coughing. He had a tendency to do this whenever men around me started to be a bother. And I loved him dearly for it. He was a sweet boy.

With my eyes still closed, I continue dancing to the soothing song. My smile grows bigger when a section comes that tickles my musical senses. I chuckle as I twirl in my spot.

When I felt a hand come to my waist, I didn't have to open my eyes to know it was Aegon. He wouldn't have let anyone come near me at all without barking up a storm.

I hummed at the scent of him, familiar yet foreign to me at once. He must have changed his cologne. I prefer this one better. He pulls me close when I reach out to him, grabbing one of his hands and placing a palm on his shoulder. His dress shirt is softer than what I imagined it to be.

I am surprised when he leads us into a ballroom dance. In fact, I am so shocked, I open my eyes and see a blur of his white shirt and blonde hair as he spins me around.

I break into a fit of chuckles, screwing my eyes shut in pure bliss when he dips me, "I had no idea you were a dancer, pretty boy."

"Yes, well, journalists don't find it interesting enough to write about."

My eyes burst open at the sound of the deep voice.

My heart is pounding at the sight of the smirking man with silver hair. I nearly faint at the violet irises so close to mine.

"I do say," his hot breath fans on my face, "if we were spotted by one now, they'd have a field day."

I jolt upright and shove the man away. He doesn't seem to be offended by my harsh actions, and, in fact, chuckles as he reels back from my action, "not what I had expected and not the reaction I usually get, but there's a first for everything."

My breath hitches when he smiles at me. I turn from him, to Aegon, who was staring coldly from his place behind the bar. It seems the rest of the people here were doing the same as well, gobsmacked by the presence of the man in the middle of the room

I roll my shoulders back, turning to my dance partner, "Prince Daemon," I mutter, bowing my head slowly, "pardon my rudeness."

He chuckles, waving me off as he stuffs a hand in his pocket, "oh, no need to be so formal, my dear. I can understand the shock," he tilts his head at me, lips still curved, "you surely weren't expecting to be dancing with the prince and thought me to be someone else, no?"

I look at him and stare in silence. For the first time in my life, I was at a loss for words.

Everything was suddenly so real, and it was making my mind and my heart race.

Aegon watches this and clears his throat loudly.

It does not help anyone.

Daemon raises his brows at me in expectation, placing his other hand in his pocket as he leans on one leg.

I open my mouth. A second passes before I mutter, "I thought you were my pretty boy."

His lips spread into a toothy grin. Airy chuckles leave him, "I can be your pretty boy."

When he extends his hand out to me, it was like the heavens opened and I could hear the angels sing.

This was the moment I have been waiting for since that day that I came back to life and kissed him goodbye with a promise of finding him in his next one.

My breath was heavily taxed when I lifted my hand.

My soul nearly leaves me when I jolt in shock over the sound of a record scratching and jumping, repeating over and over again.

In that moment, I am hit by an epiphany. I am so overwhelmed with emotions that I could barely breathe. The sight of Daemon before me brought tears to my eyes. This was all I ever wanted, and yet-- and yet-- I was drowning. I could not breathe properly.

"I..." I shudder, making Daemon's face fall, "I have to go," I mutter through a strained breath.

Daemon knits his brows, shifting in his spot with his hand still out, "what?"

Aegon watched with tightly knit brows as I ran out of the room.

The prince drops his hand and spins on his heels, eyes locked on the runaway. His nostrils flare as his face contorts in confusion, "wait! Stop! Where are you going?!"

I heave heavily as I push past people on my way out. I am absolutely winded when I exit the establishment, hands shivering from both the cold and the nerves that were getting to me in this moment.

I walk aimlessly farther out, down to the lawn that was now dark, since it was gods-know-what hour.

"Wait!"

My heart drops.

I spin around when someone grabs my wrist. My heart is still quick in my chest when I see Daemon, heaving. His short, light hair was slightly tousled in its place. He knits his brows at me, tilting his head, "you dare leave your prince, Cinderella?"

My jaw hangs low.

He releases a sigh, shaking his head, "I forbid it."

Seeing him here and now made everything feel more Real with a capital R.

Daemon adjusts his grip on my wrist, pulling his hand back, so that he was now holding my hand.

I look at him, blinking the glassiness of my eyes away, still in shock of his presence. A million questions were running through my head, and I was glad to be able to even have the mind to ask one in this moment, "do you know me, Daemon?"

He tilts his head upon hearing this, brows knitting, lips curving. He releases a chuckle at the lack of formality and how haphazard the question was, but finds himself further drawn because of it, "no," he shakes his head, "but I would love to know you."

Hearing the words come out of his mouth shatters something in me.

He did not know me.

I turn away from him as I try to even my breath. I retreat my hand and step back as a shiver runs down my spine.

And yet here he was, chasing after me.

Daemon steps forward to make up for the space between us, "don't leave. Come back inside with me. I'll give you my coat, then you can boast that the prince of Valyria gave it to you."

I continue stepping back as I shake my head, "you don't understand," I mutter under my breath in High Valyrian.

"Then make me understand," he retorts in the same tongue with a chuckle as he shakes his head and takes a wide stride over to me, grabbing my hand again.

I gasp at the warmth of his touch. When I turn back to him, tears have finally fallen from my eyes.

Daemon's face hardens at the sight of it. His hand reaches out to my face, wiping the wetness away. The sight of his torn expression tears at me, bringing me more tears.

"Why are you crying?" he asks in High Valyrian.

I do not get to reply, as suddenly there is a loud burst from behind us, commanding both our attentions.

It's Aegon. He busted through the door with my things in his hand. Upon catching the sight of the two of us, he freezes, breathing heavily as the looks out.

Daemon's expression hardens; his grip on me tightens. He turns to me, jealousy coating his mouth when he catches I where I am looking, "is that your pretty boy?"

I do not reply to him as Aegon walks over.

Daemon pulls me close to him. I look up at him with teary eyes. Aegon looks between us, jaw tense as he hands me my bag, coat, and newspaper.

"Thank you, bartender," Daemon dismisses, patting Aegon on the shoulder, before turning from him to face me again.

When I catch Aegon's face, I finally have the wits to move.

I pull away from Daemon to put my coat on. I swallow a heavy lump in my throat at feel of the stares of the two men.

Once I have my coat on, I pull a card from my bag, handing it to Daemon. He wastes no time in taking it from me, immediately scrutinizing it.

"I'd..." I start, taking a deep breath, "like to see you again."

Daemon's eyes dart to me, breaking into a smile.

Butterflies explode in my stomach at the sight of him.

Aegon's face tenses.

I release a breath before asking, "when are you fr-"

"Whenever," Daemon blurts. He places the card in the breast pocket of his white shirt, "I'm free whenever."

I nod slowly at his words, "I have work tomorrow, but I do have a long lunch at 12-

"I'll call you a 11:55."

I purse my lips at his words, trying to hold back my chuckle, but failing, "11:55?"

Daemon grins, nodding once, "on the dot."

I chuckle, turning to my feet as I nod at his words, "11:55 then."

"On the dot," he nods, extending a hand out to rub his thumb on my cheek.

I turn to him just as Daemon pulls away and stuffs his hands back in his pockets, "I'll walk you."

I shake my head, turning to Aegon, who was still standing there, watching the whole interaction between us, "you don't have to. I have a car parked nearby."

"Then I'll walk you to your car."

I turn back to Daemon, who then offers his arm out to me. I smile, unable to deny him, or myself, of the offer. I take his arm, and the next moment, he leads us off.

I turn over my shoulder, raising a hand at Aegon while I offer him a smile, "see you, Aegon."

Aegon watches as I turn back.

There is a twisted feeling inside him that grows. He mutters softly. It is too soft for anyone but himself to hear, "see you."

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 6 months

Note

Has this already been done? Arven, Penny, and Nemona with The Loyal Three.

Nemona is the Brawn, Penny is the Brain, which makes Arven the Beauty.

If you meant the saga of Reader introducing the Scarvi Trio to Legendaries, here it is <3

........

"How dare you bully sweet old Ogerpon?! You punks should've picked on someone your own size..like me!"

"Oh no.."

"Maybe you should've left that part of the story out, [y/n]."

"I probably could've worded it better, but I didn't think she'd freak out that much." Sighing, you turned away from Penny and Arven, looking to see Nemona scowling at the Loyal Three, giving them the reprimand of a lifetime.

Never before have any of you seen her get so....angry.

She was almost never angry at all. Not even after you've defeated her in battle over and over again did she lose her cool.

Perhaps you should avoid using the word "bully" to describe Pokémon. She was definitely acting like she was back in her early student council president days.

"I guess it makes sense why [y/n]'s friend Carmine called you the "Lousy Three"..because your attitudes were just plain lousy-!"

"Alright, Nemona. That's enough. I've already given them a lecture over it..and then some." You whistled for the trio to come to you, and they were rather quick to run over and hide behind you.

They seemed somewhat grateful that you rescued them, although Okidogi was quick to snarl as she approached, the fur on his tail becoming bristled. He cracked his knuckles with anticipation, clearly looking for a fight.

Munkidori kept trying to grab ahold of his arm, trying to discourage him from doing anything rash (such as starting a fight, which is what you specifically told them all not to do). But the larger Pokémon just huffed and tried shaking off his grip.

Fezandipiti, in the meantime, just turned his attention to Arven and Penny, trying to look anywhere but the embarrassing scene unfolding in front of him. He did like seeing their surprised faces, smirking and even stroking a wing over his head to show off.

You just shook your head, wondering how you were going to deescalate this mess yet again.

After your short trip to Kitakami, you've returned to Paldea with four extra companions: all of them being legendaries with a story tied to them.

One that turned out to be quite false.

You explained how Ogerpon was mistakenly considered the "bad guy" for many generations while the Loyal Three were deemed "heroes" who sacrificed themselves to save the village...but in reality it was the opposite.

They attacked Ogerpon for her masks and killed her trainer, and she fought back and defeated them all, yet she was scorned rather than praised, going into hiding for many years since.

After the trio was revived somehow, you went on to retrieve her masks and eventually captured them all, although of course they were anything but "loyal" and thought you were just lucky.

Not to mention they continued to annoy Ogerpon every time your back was turned, stealing bites of her sandwiches and throwing the toy ball in her face like they were playing dodgeball.

You only intervened after she nearly destroyed the picnic table with her cudgel in a fit of anger..clearly an obvious set-up by the trio who thought you'd be mad at her.

But you saw through their plan and got fed up, reminding them who exactly kicked their asses.

You didn't hold back at all.

Munkidori was quickly humbled, recalling that he got beaten up first in front of his two friends...so he apologized to Ogerpon right away. His future sight forewarned him of the consequences of acting out of line again, so he encouraged the others to do the same.

Fezandipiti, being the sassy and vain bird that he is, rolled his eyes. Although he valued his looks and would rather not get dirty from another battle with your Pokémon. He's suffered through enough of those to know it's just not worth it. So he promised to never bother Ogerpon again.

Okidogi, however, had the toughest time letting go of his pride. He refused to apologize at first, acting immature and snapping at the other two for going "soft". But he only turned over a new leaf after you threatened to stop giving them all mochi.

You meant it as a joke, although it was super effective in making the stubborn poison/fighting type panic and apologize to her, willing to do whatever you wanted from there on.

That day, you quickly learned that just like Koraidon/Miraidon..you held power over some mighty Pokémon.

Not with any special items or ancient relics, but with ordinary food.

So with the Loyal Three finally in your control, now seemed to be the perfect time to properly introduce them to your closest friends in Paldea.

Although...you weren't expecting Nemona to scold them like you did, nor did you think she'd still have such an intense staredown with Okidogi.

"Nemona." You warned again.

She snapped out of her trance and looked to you, frowning a little. "Sorry about that, [y/n]. It's just...whenever I hear a sad story about someone getting bullied just for defending themselves..I get heated. Especially if it's between Pokémon."

"I understand." You gave her a reassuring smile, before you reached up to pet Okidogi's arm. "Don't worry, big guy. When I said she was great at battling, I didn't mean with words."

He only snorted in response, but otherwise remained silent as his haunches relaxed.

"I promise you're gonna absolutely love her strategies. She helped me become a great trainer....I learned a lot from her."

"...you did?" Stars formed in Nemona's eyes at your praises, both hands going to her chest as her smile grew. "Awh, [y/n] that's so sweet of you!"

'Well it's true, but-"

"Hold on." She interrupted, staring at the doglike Pokémon. "Does Okidogi actually wanna battle me???"

His ears perked up, and he smiled and nodded his head, to which she gasped with excitement. "Oh can I please battle him, [y/n]???" She clasped her hands together. "I wanna see what he's got!"

"Of course." You chuckled.

"Wait, what's happening?"

"Nemona's gonna try to fight a Legendary? You sure that's a good idea?"

Turning around, you were met with the confused and concerned looks of Penny, Arven, Munkidori, and Fezandipiti.

But seeing them all standing there gave you another idea, causing a bigger grin to form on your face. "I got it..how about you guys have a battle with them, too? It could be a great way for you all to get to know each other!"

"Huh, that sounds like something I'd orchestrate...but I'm loving the idea!" Nemona agreed, before she and Okidogi rushed to get into their battle positions.

"Okay, so she and Oki got a battle of the brawns going on. Which leaves..." You spun around and pointed to Penny, then Munkidori. "...you and him to have a battle of the brains!"

"I'm not sure about that," she mumbled. "You have that much confidence in me?"

'Of course I do. You fight well with your Eeveelutions, so I'm sure you'll be able to outwit Munki somehow."

"Mmmikay?" The poison/psychic blinked, although he seemed to take that as a challenge and huffed confidently, looking to Penny.

"......alright. Let's do this, I guess." She sighed in defeat before the two went to do battle somewhere nearby.

You then looked at Arven. "Well uh...this is a little awkward, but-"

"Fezandipiti and I are gonna be the "battle of the beauty"...of course." He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "I haven't freshened up my battling skills since the tournament, but I wouldn't mind a little practice."

"Yip-ippy!" The birdlike Pokémon trilled, flying over to a random spot as Arven quickly chased him down, Mabosstiff not too far behind him.

Now that it was just you and Ogerpon standing side-by-side, she turned to you with a look of confusion. "Pon?" She took out one of her masks, tilting her head.

"Oh no. We've already had our battle and I got to learn so much about you." You chuckled, gently patting her head between the horns. "But if you want...maybe they can battle you later and see how your masks work. How about that?"

"Hmm....pon!! Ponni!!!"

"Haha, I thought so. Until then, we'll be their cheerleaders."

#clanask #anonymous #pokemon x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon violet x reader #teal mask x reader #teal mask spoilers #loyal three #okidogi #munkidori #fezandipiti #pokemon arven #pokemon nemona #pokemon penny

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 21 days

Text

Word count: 3200+

Warnings: a bit of violence

Part XVII | Part XIX

You jolted awake, heaving, skin sticky with a cold sweat. Your trembling fingers found the pendant safely hidden under your clothes. It was dream, another nightmare, you thought at first as your sight focused on the light colored chiffon curtains around the bed.

You tried to calm down, inhaling deeply. But it didn't work, panic gripped on your trembling heart that beat too fast. Why it was harder than usual? Your throat was closing, you couldn't breathe. Why hadn't you forgot it as soon as you opened your eyes?

"Y/N!" A males voice cried out. Before you were able to comprehend what's happening, mattress dipped and strong arms wrapped around you. "Thank the Mother."

You finally breathed in. You had to repeat it several times to be able to speak out.

"Rhys," you whispered, your voice hoarse. Your brother was with you. You were safe. The panic began to dissipate. Tears rolled down your cheeks and you weren't the only one crying. Rhysand sobbed, his grip growing stronger.

You stayed like this until both of you calmed down. You didn't speak, just held each other.

"I'm so sorry," Rhysand whispered as he pulled away to look down at you. "I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have revived those memories."

No dreams, but memories. That's why it didn't disappear after you woke up. You closed your eye and immediately opened them because the horrors started to play out behind your eyelids again.

For the first time in your life you saw Rhys struggling to find words. He was opening and closing his mouth like a fish. You finally looked at him properly.

Rhysand looked terrible. Red eyes with dark circles under, dishevelled hair, wrinkled clothes that remembered better times. He was a mess, much messier than after all-day training in the camp.

For Cauldron's sake, you were so confused. You pressed palms to your face. The horrible headache was back, too.

"Y/N, are you okay? Tell me what should I do? Do you need something?" Rhysand was immediately cradling you.

"I have just this insane headache," you rasped.

"Do you want that powder from Madja?"

You nodded without thinking twice. Small bottle and glass of water appeared on the nightstand. Rhys added a spoonful of powder to the glass, mixed it and handed the glass to you. You gratefully drank it. It worked almost immediately. You sighed with relieve.

"You okay?" You asked Rhys. "You look.. tired at best."

"You were unconscious for last five days. I couldn't leave you alone. It's all my fault.."

"Five days?" you choked on water. "It doesn't matter. Anyway. Don't you dare to blame yourself. I was the one who asked you to do that."

"It was so.." Rhysand fisted on his hair. "If those bastards weren't already dead, I would.." He was so angry that air around him crackled with power.

But you didn't have a chance to talk with him more as a roar came somewhere from the hallway. "Where is she?"

Both of you turned to the door at the same moment, eyes wide. Rhysand was about to stand and go to see what was going on down there when the door flew open and hit the wall hard.

On the threshold stood Azriel. His eyes dark, face full of rage, body ready to strike. The shadows wildly swirled around him, wings stretched behind his shoulders. He was so scary, looking like the embodiment of death itself. If you didn't know him, you would be so panic-stricken, unable to even blink. His hazel eyes scanned over you still in the bed.

In a blink of eye he had Rhysand pinned to the wall, his feet in the air. "What did you do to her?!" he growled, baring teeth at him. Blue siphons on his leathers shone dangerously.

Your brother struggled against his grip, his lips turning blue, but he didn't use any magic to protect himself. Azriel was so blinded with the rage he would kill him and Rhys would allow it. You had to stop him somehow.

You leapt from bed and tried to pull his muscular arm away from Rhys' throat. "Az, calm down," you whined, but you didn't make him move for even an inch. "Azriel!"

Rhysand's eyes began rolling back, now whole his face was bluish.

"Azriel! Let him go!" You were pulling on his arm even more furiously now, your nails digging into his flesh. You drew blood. Only then his gaze moved to you and his arm fell back.

Rhysand fell to the ground gasping for air and coughing. You knelt beside him, rubbing on his back. "Rhys, are you okay?" He just nodded still panting and coughing.

"Are you crazy?" you turned to Azriel. "You could kill him."

"That's exactly what I wanted to do," he retorted, glaring down at his High Lord angrily. "He promised to not push you further. You weren't ready for that and he fucking knew it."

"I asked him to do that!" You shouted back.

At that moment Feyre appeared in the door. She was dirty from a paint, apparently somebody ran to her studio in the city to alert her after Azriel arrived.

"Rhys," she cried out when she saw him panting on the ground and ran to him.

You both helped him stood up and get to the door. Feyre gave you a worried look. A silent question. You just shook your head and smile and so she took your brother to their room, leaving you alone with Shadowsinger.

Azriel glared after him, promise of death in his eyes.

"Don't even think about that," you warned him. "It was my decision. I went to him. If you need to vent your anger on someone, here I am."

He grumbled something you didn't understand and stayed silent with hands crossed on his board chest, hazel eyes watching you.

You gazed back at him.

"How do you feel?" he asked much calmer.

You raised a brow at him.

"What?"

"You were about to kill Rhys. Don't I deserve the same?"

His mouth opened and closed, no words coming out. "It's different."

"How?"

"Simply different."

You angrily glared at him until the spymaster did unthinkable thing. He backed and disappeared in his shadows without another word.

Exhausted you sat down and pulled knees to your chest. As it became your habit, you took the pendant out and played with it. Now you knew. You regained the last bit of your memory. You had everything as you'd planned. You were trying to avoid thinking about the horrors of the last night your mother was alive and rather tried to focus on finding a way how to get to Spring Court.

That night you couldn't sleep. You aimlessly wandered through the house until you found yourself in front of Rhys' and Feyre's bedroom. You were about to knock on the door, but you changed your mind at the last second and decided to go to the garden.

The door behind you opened quietly and Feyre came out. "Oh, it's you," she smiled tiredly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."

She just waved a hand. "I was about to get some tea. Will you join me?"

You nodded and a few moments later both of you were seated in the sitting room with steaming cup of tea in hand.

"How is Rhys?"

"Oh," Feyre smiled. "You don't need to worry about him. They're fighting quite often. He's fine, sleeping like a baby at the moment. By the morning he won't have a single bruise."

You shook your head. "It's my fault. Azriel burst out like that because of what I asked Rhys to do."

"You did nothing wrong. Anyway, it was up to you to decide that. Azriel can't be angry for that."

You sipped your tea while Feyre watched you, face tense with worry. "Are you okay?"

You tried to smile, but it turned into grimace. "I will be."

Feyre sighed. "I guess you can't sleep. Rhys showed me what happened there. It was.. well.. more than terrible. If you would like to talk about it.." she offered gently.

You thanked her and this time you managed to smile properly. "It's enough that you are here."

She nodded. You finished your tea mostly in silence, just occasionally doing some small talk. That's how you found out there would be Starfall in a week.

Starfall, the biggest and most beautiful celebration in Night Court. How could you forget about that? An idea began to form in your head.

"Who will come?" you asked subtly.

"As usual. It will be us, my sisters, some friends and people from the city," Feyre smiled, already imagining the party.

"Friends?"

"Yes, Winter Court's High Lord with his wife and few generals. Helion will come and a few friends from Summer Court. Lucien should be here, too." Feyre was counting on fingers, roaming through the list in her head, but you stopped listening.

You already heard what you needed. Lucien would be here. Such a big party was a good occasion to disappear without being noticed for hour or two. It should give you enough time to speak with Tamlin, if things went in your favor.

Thinking about all possible alternatives you even forgot about the horrors of your past and spent that week mostly peacefully.

Evening of Starfall

You stood in your room in front of the tall mirror, admiring yourself. Mor convinced you to go shopping dresses with her and this was what you ended up with. The dress she'd chosen for you for this event was beautiful. It was very simple long dress made of dark blue almost black velvet, the hem of skirt was decorated with shiny little stones that in narrowing chains rose up to your waist. It reminded a night sky full of shooting stars. Indeed, very fitting for today's evening.

She also insisted on helping with your make-up and hair. Since she left a few minutes ago, you had been standing in front of the mirror looking at your reflection. It wasn't like it didn't suit you. To be honest, it suited you a lot, you felt almost beautiful, but this wasn't you. It was too much.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by a knock on the door. "Are you ready?" Rhysand's voice shouted from behind the door.

"Yes," you answered. Door opened and Rhys strolled in.

As soon as he found you, his eyes widened. He froze on the spot, in silence gazing at you.

"What?" You raised a brow at him. "Is it too much?"

He slowly shook his head looking for his voice. "No, it's perfect. You're beautiful. I've never thought I will get a chance to see my baby sister like this. Tonight you'll be the most beautiful among the stars."

You frowned at him, blushing fiercely. "You are such an ass."

"I'm just honest," he grinned. "I can't wait to see Azriel's expression when he sees you."

You rather said nothing to that. Ever since he revived your memories, he kept making small remarks about Azriel and you. No need to say that the very next day after Azriel almost killed him, they were again brothers, talking as if nothing had happened.

"Let's go. I can't wait to show my Starshine to my friends," he teased you.

Party was held as always in the House of Wind. This was your first time visiting here since you came back, but you had to say that although Rhys had changed the furniture and decorations, the house itself hadn't changed that much. You still could easily navigate through narrow halls and numbers of rooms here.

Rhys' family was gathered in a big private sitting room. As soon as the two of you walked in all eyes turned on you.

Mor had already seen you, so she wasn't so surprised and sent you just a cheeky grin. Cassian's sonorous voice was the loudest one. He left his mate at the bar and hurrying to you he lifted you up, spinning with you.

"Our lil' sis finally joined the gang," he laughed as he put you down. "Look at you! You're so pretty, dove."

Laughing you pushed him away when he tried to kiss your cheek. Your face felt even hotter than after Rhysand complimented you. "Stop that, you big bear. You'll destroy Mor's hard work."

"You look amazing," Feyre hugged you. Even Amren nodded approvingly. Next to her stood male you'd never seen before, but it wasn't hard to guess he was from different court and had a thing for her. He smiled politely at you, which you returned.

Elain stood with her sister at bar. She frowned at you and turned away. As long as she didn't make another scene, you didn't mind. Nesta, on the other hand, winked at you and smiled, sipping from her glass. It was surprising.

Balcony doors opened and Azriel walked in with a glass of whisky in hand. "What's -" When his eyes met yours he forgot what he was about say, gaping at you. Hand that held the glass dropped and its content spilled onto the floor, splattering his shoes and pants.

Rhysand and Cassian boomed with laughter, others turned around and hiding their amusement pretended to be occupied.

You spared him an embarrassing situation and walked away to Mor. You hadn't talked with him since he attacked Rhysand and honestly, you were still a bit bitter about that.

As the evening progressed, the party was in full swing. Rhys and Feyre disappeared, certainly having their private party on one of the smaller balconies. Cassian with Nesta also disappeared together. They visibly needed an alone time. The rest went down to have fun with the other guests.

You were alone on the higher balcony, pretending to observe the crowd below you. True was you were looking for a certain redhead. Feyre said Lucien would come, but you hadn't spotted him yet.

"Drink?" A deep voice spoke to your right. Shadowsinger waited just a few inches from you with two glasses of wine in hands, offering you one. You hadn't heard him to come.

You gave him a tight smile. "I don't drink."

"Oh," his cheeks tinted with pink. Both glasses disappeared. "You are stunning tonight." You ignored that comment. He leaned against railing, looking down. "Are you still angry with me?"

"Little bit," you answered honestly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Well, at that moment I guess I did, but..I was angry. And so worried for you. Rhysand sent me on some damn mission that took weeks to accomplish. I couldn't see you for so long and the first thing I heard after returning home was that you aren't well, that you're unconscious because he returned you the last bits of your memories. He promised me to wait."

You placed your hand on his big scarred one. "As I already told you. It was my fault. I asked him to do so."

"Now I know. But back then.. I think I would react the same way even if I knew," he admitted."

"The three of you grew into brutes," you rolled your eyes.

He laughed, the sound so rare that you couldn't resist and had to look at him. He was handsome in the tailored suit. Even more than usually. Despite all hardships and wars that he survived, he still seemed young and innocent, just as you remembered him. Your heart stuttered, breathing became labored.

He had to hear that because he stopped laughing and looked down at you. Suddenly he seemed to be too close. The crowd below you gasped and went silent, all eyes turned to the sky. You did the same.

The show had began. Hundreds of spirits travelled above you. A warm wing wrapped around your shoulders, big hand landed on your waist. You turned to Azriel, his shiny eyes already on you. Now he was even closer than before. You could feel his warm breath full of freshness and woody smell of whisky on your face, strands of his hair tickling your forehead.

It threw you centuries back, when the two of you stood on the exactly same spot in the exactly same position. You were just a young female, still teenager, crazily in love with the handsome young male, best friend of your older brother, who loved you deeply. Your knees buckled just like they did back then, breath caught in your throat. His full lips brushed over yours. A moan made its way through your parted lips. You felt so lightheaded and drawn to him.

But..

This was wrong. You weren't that young female anymore. You didn't feel the same way anymore. Your heart changed. You were here on a mission. You blinked the haziness of your mind away.

"I'm sorry," you breathed out and ran away, leaving confused Azriel behind. He didn't try to chase after you nor he stopped you.

You ran until you got two floors lower and only then you stopped in one of the alcoves in the hallway to catch your breath. You forbade yourself to think about what just happened on the balcony.

You were upset. You needed to find Lucien quickly, before the party would be over and you miss the best chance. You walked down the hall and turn the corner just in time to see hair as bright as a fire disappear in one of the doors.

You stalked closer and carefully peeked in. You were lucky, it was Lucien. He stood with his back to the doors, pouring some alcohol to the glass. He was alone. You slipped in and closed the doors behind you.

Startled he turned to you. "It's you? You should have said something. You move around like a ghost. One day somebody gets a heart attack because of you." He turned his attention back to the drink. He seemed to be in a bad mood.

"I was looking for you."

"Really?" He took quite big gulp of liquor grimacing. "So congratulations. You found me."

"Are you okay?"

"Nothing I couldn't solve myself," he snapped. "What do you want from me?"

"I need you to take me to Spring Court." His brows raised, both russet and gold eye snapped back to you.

"You what?"

"You heard me."

Lucien laughed. "Sure. And next time I meet Rhysand, he will chop me into small pieces and feed me to some beasts. Thanks, no."

"He doesn't have to know you helped me."

Lucien tsked, but he listened. "All I want from you is that you take me to Tamlin. That's all. After that you can return to the party and pretend you haven't seen me at all."

"Why?"

"You said it yourself. Tamlin needs help and I can help him. Do I need any other reason?"

He looked you over from head to toe with narrowed eyes, thinking. A muscle pulsed on his tightened jaw. "Okay. How do you imagine we get out of here?"

It surprised you. You thought he would be harder to convince to do something so crazy and dangerous.

And so you presented him your plan. It was very simple: find unused balcony far away from prying eyes and winnow. You already had an idea which rooms with balconies would be safe for your escape.

Lucien agreed and obediently followed you through halls. You were already so close to the one of the empty rooms when a deep voice came from behind you.

"Where do you think you are going?"

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot

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sitp-recs · 5 months

Note

Hello, I was wondering if you could have any friends to lovers drarry fic rec for me? I enjoy slow burn with a kind and soft Draco (where he isn’t a bully) or one where draco stood for the light side of the war (so preferably during the war). I just want want to see Draco have a strong friendship with the golden trio, really! (I don't mind if the romance is a subplot. I just want a focus on Draco)

(I quite literally watched Harry Potter with my sister thinking Draco was going to have a hell of a redemption arc and was sorely disappointed... So here I am seeking for comfort fics)

Anyways thanks in advance!

Hi anon! I feel you, Draco’s redemption arc was poorly done and so frustrating :( I hope you’ll enjoy these as they combine slow burn, friends to lovers and redeemed Draco. Some are told from Harry’s pov and while Draco’s not always soft I think his characterization will be right up your alley. You might also enjoy GallaPlacidia’s Draco, her fics were taken down but you can find them here. Finally, I have also added my personal favorites redemption arc as a separate category, highly recommend them. Enjoy!

Friends to lovers slow burn:

Vortex by @xanthippe74 (T, 20k)

The idea of perfectly-matched soulmates feels more like a curse than a blessing to Draco. Who would want a soulmate who was a schoolyard bully, a Death Eater, and a convicted felon? Certainly not Harry Potter. And Draco is determined to take this secret to the grave.

Nice Things by aideomai (M, 22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

With Great Yawns and Stretchings by sugar_screw (T, 22k)

The coffee is very good. Really. And the cats are so cute. That's why Harry goes so often.

Moldova's Magical Tea by @aibidil (E, 32k)

Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and—to everyone’s surprise—Draco Malfoy are opening a magical tea shop to revive wizarding tea culture and, hopefully, to bring the community together after the war. Harry, who is unemployed and trying to find his way in post-war society, wants to help his friends with their new business—but that means spending a lot of time around Malfoy.

Open For Repairs by @drarrytrash (M, 35k)

After the war, Draco works at a tv repair shop and Harry breaks things.

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 (T, 38k)

Harry Potter’s life is fine. Maybe a little dull and predictable, but he shouldn’t complain about that, right? When he unexpectedly finds himself at Luna’s house one afternoon, Harry gets invited to join the secret wonderland that she’s creating with a surprising group of friends. Maybe a summer outdoors is just what a former hero needs to bring some zest back into his life.

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (E, 61k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love by @aibidil (E, 80k)

In which a group of wizards' rights activists goes on the offensive after a prohibition against love potions, forcing the magical world to confront the horror of magic's role in sexual assault and the murky legal nature of consent. Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Draco are swept together to solve the case, and in the process they're made to confront their own love and lust—with and without potions.

At Your Service by Faith Wood (E, 95k)

Hogwarts students are in danger; Harry is determined to save them all. There's only one thing he knows for certain: Draco Malfoy is somehow involved.

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl (M, 114k)

Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

My favorites - Redemption arc:

And Save Me From Bloody Men by @blamebrampton (T, 10k)

Draco Malfoy once watched others fighting to stop the world falling apart. This time, he's not just watching.

Slithering by astolat (E, 27k)

Draco found the nest down in the Manor’s cellars, while he was clearing them out.

Heal Thyself by astolat (T, 47k)

"Are you going for the course?" Lovegood asked. "You have the NEWTs.” “What course?” Draco said, then, “No, don’t be ridiculous,” when he realized she meant the notice pinned up on the board he’d been staring at: Applicants To The Introductory Mediwizard Course For The Coming Term Shall Present Themselves In The Chief Mediwizard’s Office By August 24th.

A Young Radical's Guide to Love by @blamebrampton (T, 66k)

Memories of the war are still fresh, which is all the excuse Decent People need to do appalling things. In this quietly waged conflict, Draco Malfoy is happy to be on the right side of things for once, and even happier to find he’s not alone.

A Thousand Beautiful Things by geoviki (M, 104k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

Changing Tides by carpemermaid (E, 109k)

Draco has spent half of his life spouting the things his father has taught him without much thought about how he feels about what he says. When he unexpectedly comes face to face with the Dark Lord, he grapples with the harsh realities of the world and struggles with his changing views on life.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

Eclipse by Mijan (T, 287k)

Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. It's the perfect plan, guaranteeing revenge, power, and prestige, all in one blow. But when Draco's world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins, and the battle will take them both through hell and back. If they come back.

Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 (T, 302k)

Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #friends to lovers #slow burn #redemption arc

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torntoblivion · 8 months

Text

what if arlecchino's partner was resurrected?

this is an alternate scenario to arlecchino's partner's death, thank you for the inspiration @oxyotl !!

cws: bringing you back from the dead, unethical (?) experiments

what would happen if you came back from the dead? sounds impossible but with the mysterious yet scary work of dottore, he managed to actually revive you.

when arlecchino overheard dottore's plans to try bringing back a dead person, she immediately brought up you. of course, dottore took the oppurtunity to perform an experiment. after making a deal with sandrone for rare supplies she can use on her machines in exchange for her assistance, the two got to work.

arlecchino never let dottore work without her present in the room, she deemed the marionette more trustworthy with this rather than the doctor. contrary to what she thought, dottore's experiments were less upsetting than sandrone's, arlecchino wasn't sure she could watch her recreate your entire body.

it took the odd duo months to succeed with this experiment, nobody besides dottore believed this would work even arlecchino who volunteered to use you as a test subject just in case the experiment would miraculously succeed.

when a fatui soldier let arlecchino know that the doctor requested her presence, she assumed that he failed horrendously as she stormed out of her office. she angrily barged into his lab but whatever insult she had in her mind completely vanished when she saw you sitting on the table.

she thinks she's dreaming at first, assuming that she fell asleep while working but the soft gasp from your mouth sounds undeniably real. she knows she's not dreaming for sure when you jump into her arms, talking about how happy you are to see her again and to be back but arlecchino can't help but take in the differences you have right now.

your body completely lacks the warmth it had before, your hair and skin are so soft that it doesn't even feel human and she can not feel a heartbeat when your chest presses against hers.

sandrone had created a puppet and dottore somehow placed your entire consciousness and memories into it. despite her curiosity, arlecchino thought she'd be better off not knowing what god awful procedures they went with.

even if you're not exactly human anymore, you're still you. you're not a mortal anymore but that doesn't mean arlecchino will ever let anything happen to you again. she will not lose you again.

she repeats the last phrase to herself multiple times as she finally returns your embrace, squeezing your body to hers. your puppet body somehwo still has your scent and for now, that's enough to comfort her racing mind and remind her that it is you in her arms.

#genshin impact #genshin impact hc #genshin impact hcs #genshin impact imagine #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact fanfictions #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact headcanon #genshin impact headcanons #arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino x y/n

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jinnie-ret · 5 months

Text

oddinary house pt 7

siren!seungmin x reader

genre: horror

content warnings: death

word count: 2.4k

summary: y/n is entranced by the voice of a siren before she is swept away in the odds of possible revival

ODDINARY HOUSE MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Paint a pretty picture for me

Swim in the depths

You'll forever be home

If you paint a pretty picture for me

We'll give you everything

If only you'd see..."

"Who are you?!" Y/N shook her head, blinking out of her trance as she realised she was no longer with Felix and instead heading towards a lake, black swirling water creating dark paths around a scaly figure half submerged. His voice was beautiful, Y/N knew that, anyone knew that, and it wasn't long until she was under his spell again, her feet involuntarily moving forward until she stood right at the edge of the short pier that rested two metres above the body of water with an evil aura around it.

"You'll be ok,

You'll be alright.

I'll lay with you here til it turns into night

If you paint a pretty picture for me.

Don't make it so easy we'll give you a fright."

"I just knew I'd be seeing you soon," his sweet voice echoed around the garden, birds suddenly darting from the trees and off to somewhere else, as if his voice was startling. But even though Y/N deep down felt a sense of unease, she couldn't let her anxieties get the better of her here when he was somehow keeping her calm with his smooth butter like words, that gently fell off the tip of his tongue so perfectly.

"Your voice it's..." Y/N couldn't find the words, slowly sitting on her knees at the edge of the pier, where there would have been a slight creaking under her weight had she still been alive.

"Perfect?" his charming smile shone even brighter than the sheen of water decorating his scaled skin, more clear than ever when he swam closer.

"No it's..." Y/N slowly felt her trance wearing off, yet she was still lost for words, maybe not because of his gorgeous melodies but maybe more because of his stunning appearance.

"No? How about beautiful?" he smirked again, floating right beneath her now.

"Well yes but..." Y/N rubbed her head frustratedly, just wanting to get rid of the mind fog that had taken over. Was this part of limbo or was it because of the man... mermaid in front of her?

"But?! It's enchanting isn't it ghostie, you just had to find me," he chuckled, a richness in his tone that shook her more out of her trance as he teased her.

"I-I don't get how I got here," Y/N shook her head, shifting slightly to sit with her legs dangling over the edge.

"Well I assume because you're dead," he shrugged nonchalantly, as if he had better things to deal with, though he couldn't hide his intrigue with their new resident. He never could.

"What?" Y/N turned to him, now annoyed.

"Don't tell me you didn't realise you died, Changbin hyung really should have picked a smarter one..." Seungmin sighed, disappointed if he was dealing with someone that could not meet his level of intelligence.

"I mean how I'm stood in front of you right now!! I know how I died you dickhead!" Y/N kicked the water, splashing the merman in the face in pure exasperation.

"Well that's not a very nice thing to say now, is it?" he rubbed the water out of his face and hair, which seemed counterproductive considering he was in the lake anyways.

"Ugh you're insufferable," Y/N facepalmed, she still didn't know why she was here, and all that was happening was he was getting under her skin.

"Actually I'm Seungmin, and you're more untameable, I should say, my dear..." Seungmin smirked, turning to swim away.

"Untameable? Wait, wait... Seungmin! What do you mean?"

"Normally they are still under my trance by now, but you, darling, seemed to have broken out of it, unique indeed," Seungmin swam around on his back, conspiring how it possibly could have happened that she managed to do so.

The sudden scuffling of small feet hitting against the ground and then wooden pier caused Seungmin and Y/N to turn around and look at the chupacabra which morphed back into Jisung.

"Woah, ok, that was, wow, creepy," Jisung nodded, hands resting on his hips as he referred to the two of them turning around in sync, like it was some horror movie. He had seen worse things though.

"Jisung, you reek, I told you not to come to my lake," Seungmin wrinkled his nose, all he could smell from Jisung was blood and dead animals from the sacrifices he'd make.

"Jisung, why are you here?" Y/N ignored Seungmin's comment and looked at the man who was out of breath, holding up a finger momentarily before he spoke once again.

"The ritual. It's, it's ready," Jisung caught his breath, gesturing Y/N to come with him quickly.

But as she stood, she realised just how weak she felt. Even with her soul trapped in limbo, it was making it more difficult for the entity she had become to move around. Her glow was brighter, but she had lost her spark.

"Any time now, Y/N!" Jisung tried to hurry her to move yet she still wasn't able to.

"I-I, can't, my arms, legs... so heavy," Y/N winced, and Jisung panicked as he saw it in her face that she was genuinely trying.

"This is not good this is not good... Seungmin I swear to god if you-!" Jisung growled through gritted teeth, one moment away from wanting to jump into the lake himself and throttle the siren.

"You won't sacrifice me, you need me too much," Seungmin hauled himself out of the lake, waiting a moment for his delicately scaled tail to shift into a pair of legs instead. He hopped up onto the pier and rushed next to Y/N's side.

"Yeah, what are you gonna do that's so helpful?" Jisung rolled his eyes and tapped his foot rapidly, time was ticking.

Seungmin simply turned away, ignoring the rambles of the chupacabra before his voice made Y/N's head turn towards him straight away.

"Don't you want to come with me?

You're hurting dear,

I feel your fear..."

Seungmin began to sing and Y/N's eyes heartbreakingly welled up, understanding the situation she was in would either revive her, or cause her to be a ghost forever.

"... It's time to move or pay your fee,

You're hurting dear,

I feel your fear."

Han's eyes widened as Seungmin's words prompted Y/N to start moving upwards, the glow around still getting brighter, but they had time, now that the siren was helping. Y/N's body didn't even seem to allow her to walk, she was floating, the only awareness about her was through her eyes.

"Let's make a change,

Need to make a change today.

Don't be afraid,

Your fate will rearrange today."

And with that Han raced back to the circle for the ritual, each one of the other residents of Oddinary House gathering around it. Seungmin brought Y/N's glowing figure closer and closer, and the closer they got, the more and more the candles flickered wildly, sensing the presence of the soul it would be connecting back to its shell.

Felix flew in, his ethereal wings extending outwards one last time as he took his position next to Changbin, handing him a small satchel to hold onto, which he was given a respectful nod in response. Although, he still couldn't hide his small frown remembering that no one had told him that Y/N was here. And now they'd all be desperately watching her revival.

Hyunjin descended from the very place Y/N had fallen from, however this time, instead of falling to his death and landing in the circle like Y/N had when he pushed her, he gracefully landed, moving round to stand next to Minho whose nose was twitching, picking up on the scents of everyone as they were brought together.

Chan had managed to leave the reception area of the house, extending wires out of his arms to bring him to a halt at the edge of the candle lit circle. He brought them out of the ground just as a bat flew past him and landed onto the top of a small metal stand, which had been placed with purpose, also around the circle.

"Right, ok, umm, everyone's here, that's good, that's good..." Jisung wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers.

"Y/N is not here yet. Seungmin is not here yet," Chan scanned the circle and took note of what he could see.

"Shut up, Chan, he's bringing her now," Jisung glared at him, his anxiety and frustrations getting the best of him as he just wanted the ritual to go well.

"Sungie..." Felix shook his head, always the mediator.

"Just be quiet, everyone, we wanted Y/N here for a reason, yes? Give him some freedom to think in peace," Minho sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Nothing that guy doesss issss in peace, he literally killss animalsss every day," Hyunjin hissed, arms folded.

"And you killed Y/N, so this is on you, Jinnie," Jisung argued back, stomping his foot down.

"Yah! You nearly stomped on her body's leg!" Changbin warned.

"You'll be ok,

You'll be alright,

We'll lay here with you even if it takes all night."

Seungmin finished singing, bringing Y/N into the circle, and allowing her to fall to her knees once more. He took his place between Hyunjin and Chan, rubbing his throat slightly. It had taken a lot out of him, to bring her limbotic soul back from one end of the garden to the other.

"Ok, Y/N, I'm going to need you to try really hard, ok? Try really hard to move back into your body. I just need you to think really hard, and try and get back into position of how your body is laying, ok?" Jisung kneeled down next to Y/N, hoping she'd be able to do it. Yet his voice was so muffled through her brain fog.

Y/N felt exhausted. Is this how everyone felt before they moved on from limbo? Her limbs felt like they weighed tonnes, yet it couldn't deter her from her resilient mind.

"We can't move you now, Y/N, you need to do this yourself, just think, imagine yourself back in your body, remember the sensations in your feet, your legs..." Jisung's voice broke through now, the mind fog disappearing, just as quickly as everything turned to darkness.

Y/N didn't see anything for a while, until she did. The brightness that had previously been blurring the edges of her vision before wasn't there, but did that mean she died?

If it was anything to go by with the way her hand was tightly clutched with Jisung's, then no. She was very much alive, and breathing.

"Ji..?" Y/N mumbled, sitting up in the king sized bed she had been resting in. The bedroom was decorated in reds and golds, dark oak furniture bringing an elegant element to intertwine it all.

"Y/N... Oh good! You're awake! You're alive!" Jisung suddenly realised she was awake, but instead of offering her comfort, he cheered to himself. "Yes! I knew I could do it! In Hyunjin's face! That'll tell him!" he hollered, before swiftly morphing into his animalistic form and galloping down the hallways.

Y/N rubbed her eyes, taking a moment to appreciate the way she could wiggle her toes against the soft plush sheets on the bed. Loving the way she could feel her hair, see the goosebumps appear on her arms. She was back.

"Hello, Y/N," Chan was stood in the doorway, feet rooted to the floor.

"Hi, CB97," Y/N lazily waved at him, unable to hide her giddy mood at simply living again.

"Y/N. I thought we were more than that," Chan's head tilted to the left.

"Sorry, umm, Chan, haha... wait how are you up here?!" Y/N laughed before realising she had never seen him anywhere apart from the reception.

"Mr Yang has asked to see you now," Chan informed her.

"Why now? I don't get it..." Y/N felt her heart thudding, another oddly comforting feeling considering she could recognise her nerves getting worse.

"Please exit the bedroom and I will guide you on your way," Chan suddenly turned around before he had zoomed down the corridor in a flash, the door shutting behind him. Yet it almost tentatively opened again, as if reminding Y/N that she needed to have the all important meeting.

Safe to say, she struggled to find her feet, and not because of anything weird like a mishap with the ritual, no. But it was like a baby learning how to walk for the first time.

Using the walls of the hallway to support her wobbly legs, Y/N followed through as each door opened in her path, showing her where to go.

"You passssss the tesssst," Hyunjin hissed, a small smile on his face.

"What the hell man!" Y/N jumped, stumbling before grabbing onto a banister. "You trying to kill me again?!"

"You have ssssurvived, I wish you a great ssstay," he smoothly moved past her, leaving her momentarily stunned before she continued in the same path he took.

It wasn't long until she was guided towards a meeting room, a long dining room in that same dark oak from before, stretched across the room. The room was huge, making Y/N feel even smaller as she approached the table. A dusty chandelier hung right above the middle, and bookcases full of old books, or ones that had not been touched for years, were lined up against the walls.

Felix gave a small wave to Y/N when he saw her, and she couldn't help but wave back, before she was pulled away by a pair of furry hands belonging to Minho, who yearned for her scent to be next to him. She was sat between him and Changbin, the sandman patting her hand lightly and easing her nerves, the tiniest amount of golden dust lingering in the grooves of her knuckles.

On one side she sat between them, Han on the other side of Changbin. Opposite her, from left to right, sat Chan, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Felix. That left the empty chair at the head of the table. It seemed more regal than others, a rich air around it before a bat suddenly flew in.

"Ah! Stupid bat!" Y/N jolted in her seat, making Minho giggle and Felix send her a warning look, slowly shaking his head.

She didn't understand why, until the bat materialised right before her eyes, into an attractive young man.

"What, I thought you wanted to meet me? That's no way to treat head of house, now is it?" he chuckled, fangs peering out of his mouth.

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @hanjiquokkaaa @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @amararosesblog

#skz #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #skz angst #straykids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz fic #oddinary house

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letstalkaboutshtufff · 7 months

Text

Twisted Love pt 5

Loki x reader

Pairing: Loki x Wife reader

Warnings: Forced marriage, language, anxiety, panic attacks, if I forgot anything please let me know!

Summary: Loki Leaves for the hunt and your left to your own devices.

A.N Sorry it’s been so long loves!! The writers block was hitting hard but the Loki show revived me lol, hope you enjoy this chapter!

"No your highness, you should wear this. It's tradition after all"

You glanced over to the wardrobe where Adessa held out a silky dress of emerald.

"Tradition to wear green?" You tilted your head.

She smiled nodding her head, "No, not quite, but it is tradition to wear your husbands colors on the days of the hunt" she pulled you towards the screen and slid the fabric to you. Knowing you liked privacy.

“Oh I see" for some reason that made you feel a bit embarrassed but you slid off your sleep clothes and complied anyway.

Luckily last night your exhaustion won over so you didn't lie nervously overthinking from Loki being so close for too long.

Although you had been anxious, you actually didn't hate that he slept next to you. It was sort of nice to not sleep alone.

You stepped out and Adessa nodded approvingly. "Now for the finishing touches, she pulled you towards a small chest on the ground and pulled out a few golden accessories.

"There, now there's just one more thing..." she shuffled in the chest some more and her hands pulled out a small dainty golden headpiece that had two protruding horns.

"Adessa do I have to wear that...?" You eyed the crown carefully. It wasn't that you didn't like the headpiece. Quite opposite actually because the piece shimmered gorgeously and you loved how the design was subtle and elegant all at once. The problem however was that is was a version of Lokis own Horn crown and for some reason that made you shy.

"Yes you do, it's the law" you gave a her a look.

"Ok so it's not the law but still, you'll look lovely with it on and his majesty won't be able to resist."

That doesn't make me feel any better...

Reluctantly you nodded, knowing she wouldn't give up any time soon.

"Alright now you're ready, let's go!" she pushed you excitedly out of the tent before you could even mentally prepare yourselves.

The guards at the entrance bowed slightly when you appeared then proceeded to escort you.

You eyed Adessa nervously.

"Don't worry, we are just going to see off the hunting parties" she whispered then fell into step behind you. You nodded and tried not to shrink away when you saw people stop to look at you.

You knew that everything, even you being escorted was all part of the big show.

Even the trail you walked was lined with petals.

Ok this was nearing on being ridiculous now...

"This way your highness" one of the guards motioned to an open area where you could see in the distance Loki, Thor and the rest of the royal family. They were all clad in lavish armor, in their respective colors.

You gulped when you neared closer and gained their attention.

"Her royal highness" the guards stepped aside and left you exposed.

With a shaky smile you bowed and walked closer. Frigga was the first to greet you.

“My dear you look absolutely lovely” she pulled you to stand next to her which you were grateful of.

You bowed your head slightly to the all father, and Thor and when your eyes met Loki you sucked in a breathe. His eyes were not on you but rather roaming from bottom to top.

Perhaps you should have fought Adessa harder, did he think this was too much?

When he did finally look up he averted his gaze quickly and you felt you had upset him somehow.

"Loki doesn't she look absolutely stunning" you flushed at her sudden teasing. Frigga why...

You hesitantly looked to him awaiting his answer,

he cleared his throat, "Yes she does" although he was basically forced to say it it still made you fluttery and nervous all the same.

"Now then let's not waste another moment" Odin suddenly announced stepping in front of everyone.

"Good luck my dears” Frigga gave her sons a nod then turned to you with an encouraging nod.

“G-good Luck Loki” you felt butterflies flutter in your stomach, had his name always sounded so smooth on your tongue?

He gave you a small nod then turned around with the others and made their way out of the camp.

“Now how about some breakfast?” The Queen smiled and offered her arm.

“That sounds lovely” you followed her through the makeshift camp, eyes leaving Lokis disappearing figure reluctantly.

**********************************************

“My Lady I wonder if I might ask a favor of you…”

You perked up from your laying position under the shade of a beautiful bay lily tree.

“Of course, what is it?” You eyed the slightly blushing girl curiously.

“Well um you see, this camp is close to an old dear friends place of mine and well I’d hate to miss the opportunity to see her while I’m here um…would it be alright if I took the next few hours off? Of course I’ll have someone look after you in my stead!”

A smirk formed on your lips. “Well of course, we can’t keep your dear “friend” waiting now can we?”

“Here” you handed her the thick cloak that lay at your side. “It’s been getting colder I’ve noticed, oh and don’t worry about getting back to me too soon, enjoy your time, take tomorrow off as well if you wish, I’ll be just fine here on my own.” You smiled encouragingly. Honestly you felt a little uneasy at the thought of not having her nearby but you could tell she needed a break. Preparations for the hunt have been running everyone ragged.

She practically jumped on you with joy,” Oh my Sweet benevolent gracious Lady! You are truly a gem among rocks!!”

“Alright alright, you’d best save that sweet talk for your friend hm?” You jutted your head towards the camp entrance.

“Now go on before it gets dark, and I mean it about not rushing back, I don’t want you walking back at night, it’s not safe. Come back during daylight tommorow ok?”

“Ok mother will do, I’ll alert one of the maids so they can-“

“N-no that’s not necessary, I’ll be ok on my own”

“But how could I possibly leave you with no one to assist you?”

“Honestly I’ll be alright, I’m just going to be laying here reading anyway. And I am more than capable of dressing myself for bed.”

She looked like she wanted to protest but you playfully pushed her along and she reluctantly agreed. “Well alright… but if you need anything ask for Felice, she’s very sweet and keeps her nose where it belongs.

“Alright, I will, have fun”

“Oh I will my Lady, don’t you worry” she winked before practically sprinting out the camp.

You laughed quietly after her, the sun was still high in the sky and everyone seemed to have something to do but you. Sighing you threw your book aside and decided to stretch your legs.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Mathis and some other guards helping unload crates off a carriage.

Frowning you spun the other direction away from him and began walking mindlessly.

It was amazing how this area was once just forest and now it looked like a mini city.

Luckily everyone was occupied so no guards followed you. One thing you took for granted in your old life was freedom of well… freedom.

In the palace you didn’t leave your room that often and when you did a guard was beside you wherever you went.

You quickened your steps until you reached the outskirts of the camp. There was practically no one there and you felt you could finally relax, truly relax.

Your eyes scanned the forest line, dozens of tall beautiful trees lined the area. Valheim didn’t have beautiful foliage like this, or maybe it did, it’s not like you really had a chance to go on vacation.

You spent several moments standing there breathing in the crisp air.

Your thoughts traveled to Loki and wondered how he was faring. In all your time together you’d only seen him composed and elegant, you couldn’t exactly picture him covered in blood and taking down a wolf. Or perhaps he’d opt for a bow instead of his golden blades.

The area was too peaceful to leave so soon so you decided to explore a bit more. You followed a small opening between two trees that formed a natural trail.

You kicked off your shoes and sighed happily feeling the soft grass caress your feet.

You started to pick flowers along the way, maybe you’d bring a bundle back for Frigga. Or maybe that would seem not proper? Picking wildflowers like common folk. Oh well you’d pick them anyway and decide later since they were so pretty.

Maybe you’d make perfume for yourself out of them…

Before you knew it you had a picked enough flowers to fill a shop, your dress wrappings conveniently formed the perfect basket.

The dimming of the sky caught your attention.

Perhaps you should be getting back before anyone worries about your absence.

You are just about to turn back when a sudden howl has you frozen to the spot.

****************************

Next Taglist

Ok so a bit of a short chapter but I’ve already begun writing the next one! Please let me know what you think:)

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lukabitch · 3 months

Note

Hi could I request jason Todd x trans reader where even though jason is in midst of pit rage he’s just like domestic with bf and Both of them just are dramatic and cause chaos

The dramatic duo? Oh yes please I live for domestic Jason! Thank you so much for the request! :)

Cw: Jason yelling, strangling, very angsty, kinda happy ending, off shoot of the Arkham games,

You don’t remember much from what happened. You were mourning the loss of your boyfriend, Jason, when suddenly you had a bag over your head being taken somewhere. The person forcing you to walk was trying to be nice about things, which was weird. When the bag was pulled from your head you were met with a beautiful woman dressed in assassins gear. She introduced herself as Talia Al Ghul, a high standing leader in the League of Assassins.

“My father is in dire health, he needs to be in the lazarus pit at all times. We need a device that will keep the waters of the pit flowing through him. I have received intel that you would know the blueprints to such a device.” She explained to you with an air of urgence. You had helped both Jason and Batman with several devices, including one that was for Batman’s heavy duty suit. Talia continued to speak on the matter. “In return for the blueprints, we will revive Jason Todd.” Her words sent shivers down your spine. The offer was too tempting not to take, after all it was just blueprints right?

“Okay you've got yourself a deal.” You proceed to draw out the blueprints for the device and a list of the needed materials. She kept up her side of the deal and took you to where they were keeping Jason. She led you to a part of their lair that was heavily guarded. She then proceeds to open a heavy metal door, though she didn’t seem fazed by it.

“He’s in here, give him time to rest before traveling.” Her words had a weird vibe to them, almost like a warning. You walked into the chamber while remaining on edge, something just doesn’t feel right. The moment your eyes laid on Jason it was like a bullet went through you. You felt too many emotions for one person to handle, mainly though it was happiness. You watched as Jason stood up and stumbled in your direction. Before he could fall, you caught him in your arms.

“Jason, are you okay?” You asked softly, a look of concern washed over. Something had felt wrong, but before you could react, Jason had his hands around your throat. In a matter of seconds you were fighting for your life.

Choked noises escaped your mouth as you tried to tell him to stop. You never could get the words out. In your last moments of consciousness you touched his cheek. The tender act broke through him somehow.

You woke up in your apartment with no clue how you got here. The thought of it being a dream had crossed your mind. Though it was proven wrong by looking in the mirror. You heard some rummaging in the kitchen. In the kitchen you found Jason making breakfast.

“Oh dude, you didn’t have to do that.” You say roughly. Your voice still hadn’t fully recovered from the strangulation.

“Nope, you know better. Can’t talk me out of anything.” He said with a small smile. Despite the situation he seemed happy. He plates the pancakes. “Come on, your food will get cold.”

You laughed and sat down at the table. Things seemed to be looking up.

#request #dc x reader #dc fanfic #dc comics #jason todd #male reader #trans reader #x transmasc reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x trans reader #dc x male reader #dc x trans reader

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undoing-anobrains · 9 months

Text

you bring me home - matty healy

part four

pairing- matty x f!oc

wc- 3.4K

summary- following her fiancé suddenly calling off their engagement caroline daniel finds herself moving in with her brother and his best friend who she had a huge crush on as a teenager just in time for a worldwide lockdown.

Something had shifted within Caroline following the night she spent connecting with Matty. A change which wasn't unfamiliar to her, in fact it was all too memorable. It was like finally coming home, like remembering what warmth feels like after a seemingly permanent coldness. And Caroline was absolutely petrified by the sudden resurgence of emotions she had buried a long time ago.

He had just taken pity on her, Caroline reiterated to herself. Like any decent human being he had comforted her when she was evidently distraught. Matty had only been acting out of obligation because they were somewhat friends and more importantly she was his best friend's little sister. His words didn't have any deeper meaning, he was just an inherently good soul.

If she let herself entertain her delusions she would be no better than her ex she mused. Even if he had never really been committed to her, she had given her everything to that relationship and she couldn't possibly move on that quickly. But Matty was frustratingly conscientious and always checking in on her so it was impossible to avoid him, despite knowing she had to if she wanted to prevent her little resurfaced crush from developing any further.

So that's what prompted Caroline to come back to the hospital to work on the unit after leaving to pursue research the year prior. Coming back to work on the front lines in the middle of a global pandemic was stressful but she found it gave her mind the necessary rest from her own problems – it was much easier to face and solve other people's than her own. And it gave her a sense of purpose in a time where she truly felt lost. She could be a friendly face, a comforting presence for her patients, she knew how to do that. What she wasn't so sure of these days was who she really was underneath all of that. The studio is alive when Caroline returns every evening, a stark contrast to how things were at the start. It's buzzing with energy and she somehow walks in to the boys doing something stupid every time that makes her genuinely question their sanity before falling into side splitting laughter with them over their antics. It's the good kind of laughter Caroline notes, the kind that you can still feel in the slight aches of your ribs hours later - serving a very needed reminder that it was real.

She can handle her highly inappropriate yet persisting feelings towards Matty in small doses. Even though those small doses are concentrated ones where he's in constantly in her orbit. Although if she's being completely transparent it would be more accurate to say she's in his orbit. For Matty is the sun. Radiant and blinding. Luring people in with his warmth and for the most part unknowingly the centre of everything. At least for Caroline because in the heart of her world Matty was the brightest star, an ineffable illumination of everything good in the world even if he purposefully extinguished it to the prying, outside eye. Every interaction with him was akin to stepping into the gentle embrace of dawn after a night filled with pitch black, stormy skies.

He had seriously committed to his unspoken promises of reviving Caroline's genuine smile and expelling the lingering misery she still experienced. His laughter was everywhere all of the time – occupying every neuron, every auditory pathway until it eventually overwhelmed her auditory cortex with its captivating and melodic quality. It was as if his mirth had the ability to dispel the shadows, coaxing a smile from the corners of her lips even in the gloomiest of moments. Matty had that kind of power over people. The power to kindle a spark within them that soon spread like uncontrollable wildfire. Then when you pair that with a long lived crush still breathing...well it only amplified that effect of his.

But just as the sun graces the world with its light it also casts shadows. And in the gentle radiance of his presence, there existed the shadow of her unspoken, resurfacing feelings. A dichotomy of warmth and yearning, a constant tug of war between being content with their shared moments in private and longing for something more. It was a paradox she navigated, for she knew that while he was the sun that illuminated her world, he was also a star she could only admire from afar.

As Caroline returned to her work at the hospital, an unexpected transformation seemed to weave its way into the fabric of her relationship with Matty. The dynamics between them shifted, evolving into a state of familiarity and comfort that bordered on domesticity. It was as if the unspoken connection they shared had blossomed into a new phase, one where their interactions were marked by a sense of intimacy that transcended the already blurry bounds of their friendship. The transition was subtle, like the gradual turning of seasons, but it was unmistakably present.

The first time Matty made her coffee, Caroline was half-asleep and unsuspecting. As she shuffled into the kitchen, eyes half-lidded, she was met with the sight that would etch itself into her memory. There stood Matty, a vision in tousled hair and sleep-drawn features. His right hand held her travel mug, his fingers wrapped around the vessel with a certain tenderness that belied his dishevelled appearance.

The corners of his lips curved upward into a sleepy grin as his gaze met hers. "Mornin'," he greeted, the warmth in his voice a stark contrast to the chill present due to the early hour. He extended the mug toward her, a silent offering that carried more weight than words ever could. "Thought you'd need this."

The weight of his gesture, of the effort he had taken to ensure her morning started with comfort, settled over her like a cosy blanket. She accepted the mug with a quiet gratitude, her fingers brushing against his briefly in the exchange. The world outside may have been chaotic, but in this small moment, it was as if time stood still.

Caroline cradled the mug in her grasp as she studied Matty's features in all their morning glory. He was somehow still beautiful despite it being evident that he hadn't yet slept a wink – clearly having spent all night abuzz working on something for the album. Bringing the brew to her lips she took a sip of the hot liquid and was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't as though she doubted Matty's ability to make a good cup of coffee but considering he typically made his a lot sweeter than she would normally take hers, Caroline was impressed that he noticed those little details.

"Good stuff, huh?"

Caroline smiled in return, a soft warmth settling in her chest. "Yeah, really good. Thanks."

His smile widened, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "I'm wasted making music."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh definitely, I'm sure Café Nero would be dying to have you back if you ever get bored of being my personal barista and world famous musician."

"Cheeky," he goads "was going to make you another tomorrow morning but I think I'll just sleep in instead."

Caroline held back a laugh "I won't force you but you'd be earning a lot of points in my books Matthew."

His expression softened "well then...I'll be waiting, same time tomorrow."

Mornings follow suit with a sense of anticipation, as Caroline would find herself waking up to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the studio. She would step into the kitchen to find Matty, already awake, a warm smile playing on his lips as he handed her a cup of her favourite brew. Initially she had thanked him for the coffee but persuaded him not to lose sleep over her but she hadn't been very successful as the following mornings Matty greeted her with her travel mug full, his own mug of tea and the knowledge that he usually went right back to bed once she left for work everyday. Slowly and not without complaints he adopted her sleep schedule – or at least the early morning aspect. When Caroline asked him why he was making such an effort his answer rendered her speechless. It was the only time of day during the week which he got to spend with only her. That he'd grown fond of their midnight ramblings but these days they were so inseparable with George and Louis that the mornings were regretfully their only time alone.

The boys, in their own way, embraced this shift. Evenings greeted Caroline with the comforting scent of food fresh out of the oven. It was nothing spectacular but they managed to not burn anything and it was the sentiment that touched Caroline. She would have been happy to cook for them all in the evenings regardless of her just arriving home from work but that suggestion had hardly left her lips before it was meant with protests. It was rather sweet how they all insisted that Caroline deserved a rest after the long days on her feet.

When she'd returned to dinner at the studio the first time she had been shocked to say the least because none of the boys were even close to amateur chefs. In fact her first reaction had been to raise a brow in mock scepticism and quip "You lot? Cook dinner? Are you trying to give me food poisoning?"

To which Matty retaliated, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, come on! I can cook, you know."

With a well-practiced sense of theatricality, Caroline countered, "Right, and I'm the Queen of England."

The friendly sparring continued, each word exchanged a playful volley.

"Literally the only times I've ever seen you cook for yourself the smoke alarm thought we were under attack," she recalled, a grin playing on her lips.

Matty met her accusation with a smirking defence. "I was just testing the fire safety measures. A responsible citizen, that's me."

And then came George's orchestrated declaration, wrapped in an exaggerated façade of admiration as he tried not to cackle. "Ah, of course! You, responsible. Truly the pinnacle role model Mattthew."

So when Caroline came back to dinner made every evening like her life was an episode of some bizarre gender swapped fifties fever dream she accepted it happily so as to not set the boys off on a rant about how they couldn't possibly make Caroline, the resident genius and hardworking radiation therapist cook her own meals and continue to work once she came home. Even when she pointed out that they were literally also working all day they quickly brushed that argument under the rug, informing her that adding the finishing touches to an album was nowhere near comparable with saving lives and treating cancer patients daily.

The studio had become a haven, not just for the boy's creative endeavours but for the shared moments of respite they found in each other's company. Matty, in particular, seemed to take on a new role as a constant presence in her life. During her work hours, she would receive unexpected FaceTime calls, snippets of songs from their upcoming album playing softly in the background as Matty's voice offered glimpses into their world of music and inspiration. Sometimes all of them would be there on a call with her when she eventually got her lunch just to keep her company because Caroline had mentioned in passing how unsettling she found the otherwise empty and sterile canteen.

Caroline cherished these stolen moments, the sense of connection deepening with each passing day. It was as if Matty was inviting her into a space that was uniquely theirs, a realm where the boundaries of friendship blurred into something more profound. The snippets of songs he shared felt like secrets whispered in her ear, a testament to the trust he placed in her. In the evenings, the studio transformed into a realm of games and laughter. Game nights became a ritual, although putting four highly competitive people against each other often ended in disaster and strings of light hearted but intense insults.

The evening sun cast a warm, golden hue across the studio as Caroline stepped through the door, shedding the weight of a long day at work. The scent of familiarity enveloped her as she kicked off her shoes and set her bag down. The studio seemed to exhale a sigh of relief as she returned, as if it had been waiting for her presence to fill its spaces once more.

Caroline's tired gaze fell upon the inviting sight before her: the cosy living area adorned with soft cushions and warm throws, the gentle crackling of a fire in the fireplace, and, most importantly, the figure of Matty, seated on the couch with a book in hand.

She offered him a weary smile, her shoulders relaxing as the strains of the day began to dissipate. Matty looked up from his book, his eyes lighting up as they met hers. "Long day at work?" he asked, closing the book and setting it aside.

Caroline let out a soft chuckle, the tension in her features easing as she moved toward the couch. "You have no idea," she admitted, sinking into the plush cushions beside him. The warmth emanating from the fireplace and his proximity seemed to chase away the remnants of stress that had clung to her throughout the day.

Matty reached for a nearby throw blanket, unfolding it and draping it over both of them. It was a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes about his attentiveness. "Well, you're home now," he said softly, tucking the blanket around them both. "And I've got the perfect remedy for a long day."

Her curiosity piqued, Caroline turned to him, a playful glint in her eyes. "Oh, do tell. Is it a secret Healy remedy?"

Matty's grin was infectious as he leaned in conspiratorially. "It's simple, really," he began, his voice low as if sharing a well-kept secret. "I might have done a tesco delivery with a stash of your favourite snacks earlier and then you have good company."

Caroline chuckled, the exhaustion of the day giving way to a sense of contentment. "And I suppose you're the 'good company' part?"

Matty's feigned offense was accompanied by an exaggerated gasp. "Well, if you must ask, I suppose I can reluctantly fill that role," he replied, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Once again Matty had surprised Caroline with a sweet gesture and it really wasn't making trying to suppress her feelings for him simple. Luckily for her Louis shortly joined them after he got off the phone with his girlfriend and George came back minutes later. Caroline was grateful for them being there because she didn't trust herself to be alone with Matty at the moment - even if her mind was well aware of the fact that starting anything with him was a bad idea, her heart was screaming at her, begging her to throw logic and reason out the window.

The four of them curled up in a messy pile of blankets on the couch and Matty turned on some random movie that Caroline had never seen before but didn't care about enough to know the name of. As much as she tried to focus on the screen Caroline found her gaze kept drifting to her right where Matty was curled up alarmingly close to her.

Their legs were thrown all over the place, even on top of each other. Matty's right leg was drooped across George as he also snuggled into the left side of his torso. Louis was on the other side of Caroline and he had the most space by far and also the most pillows. Initially Matty had been leaning over Caroline in an attempt to snatch one of them from his brother's grasp but Louis hadn't let any of them go. Merely sending Caroline a knowing look as Matty then resorted to using Caroline's shoulder as a headrest. Feeling his warm breath on her skin sent Caroline's brain into overdrive as it struggled to function. His presence and the lack of space between them was overwhelming, goosebumps forming on her skin in anticipation.

Caroline couldn't keep her eyes off of Matty but it seemed to be reciprocated. Occasionally she'd force herself to look at the screen but his eyes always drifted back to the man currently resting his head on her shoulder. He was truly captivating, even more up close when you could see all the intricacies and tiny details like the small freckles from the sun or the soft pink flush that spread across his cheeks whenever they locked gaze. And Matty's close study of her features, as if he was trying to commit her to memory had Caroline losing her mind. There was a tenderness to his expression - as if he was observing a beautiful piece of art and not a jaded shell of a woman whose eyebags grew and darkened by the day with a practically permanent indent across the bridge of her nose from the pressure of her protective mask digging into it all day at work.

When the movie ended George let out a soft yawn and rubbed his bleary eyes "I think I'm going to head up to bed, see you lot in the morning." They said goodnight to him and Caroline didn't fail to point out that he wouldn't see her because she'd be long gone. Then despite looking awake as ever Louis rose from the sofa and announced that he was off as well. Sending a cheeky wink in Caroline's direction when Matty wasn't paying attention on his way out. He knew exactly what he was doing when up and left claiming to need to sleep and now Caroline was alone. Alone, with Matty . Alone with someone who she had spent such a large portion of her life in love with.

"You're comfy," Matty said quietly, almost like he was too scared to say it any louder.

Caroline's chest grew heavier at that. Suddenly everything was weighing her down and she was terrified. It felt like her heart was slamming against her chest so rapidly that it would burst through her sternum with ease.

But it was all silence after that until Matty broke it. "Caro," he began, his voice a conspiratorial whisper as they lounged in the living area of the studio, "I've been thinking."

Caroline's eyebrows quirked in curiosity, her gaze meeting his with a mixture of intrigue and amusement. "That's rare."

Matty's grin widened, his enthusiasm contagious. "How about we do something... a bit out of the ordinary?"

A bemused smile tugged at the corners of Caroline's lips. "And what exactly do you have in mind?"

Matty's eyes twinkled as he leaned in closer, his voice taking on a dramatic flair. "A fort," he declared, his tone hushed as if revealing a secret of the utmost importance. "We should build a fort."

Caroline's laughter danced in the air, a melodic sound that filled the room. "A fort? Are we twelve years old again?" Too many times in her childhood had she found Matty and George inside a fort he had built in George's room when they were meant to be asleep and Caroline used to join them on the promise that she wouldn't tell their parents.

Matty's expression remained earnest, his enthusiasm unwavering. "Why not? I haven't made one in forever."

Eventually giving in to his eager but pleading smile she found herself gathering an assortment of blankets and cushions, their laughter mingling with the rustling of fabric.

In the heart of the living area their fort began to take shape. They draped blankets over chairs, positioned cushions just right. With each layer added, the sense of nostalgia deepened, harkening back to a simpler time when building forts was an art form in itself. Their fingers brushed against soft fabrics, occasionally lingering too long or too close to each other.

Matty gestured with a flourish toward their handiwork, a playful glint in his eyes. "We did good, should be a professional."

Caroline laughed, her heart lighter than it had been in days. "It's... surprisingly impressive, I must admit."

Matty patted a cushion invitingly, his voice a whisper that held a touch of mischief. "Well, come on then. The fort awaits its inhabitants."

How had she ever believed she could get over him? Had she ever really wanted to get over him? Either way - she was well and truly fucked now because she was fully enraptured in the whirlpool that was Matty again and faced with a choice, sink or swim?

#the long awaited part four :)#i love them #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 #matty healy x reader #matty healy x oc #matty healy x you #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #bee writes #you bring me home

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guqin-and-flute · 4 months

Text

Are You Here to Stop Me? –Ch. 7 [Peony to Lotus!Verse, Yaoli]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5][Chapter 6] [First post in Peony to Lotus Verse]

[Ao3 Series]

[CW: Mention of blood, canon and era typical internalized ableism and misogyny from Yanli]

"You're sure you don't need me to get your parasol, furen?"

Yanli opened her eyes to the buttery autumn sun and smiled up at her maid, who hovered by her elbow like a nervous bird. "A-Si, I’m fine--” she began to insist, gently.

But the girl was already spinning, hurrying away up the garden path and calling back over her shoulder; “I’d better get it, just in case! I’ll be right back!”

With a sigh of fond surrender, Yanli settled back into her heavily cushioned chair, hands resting on her stomach. Nothing moved inside, yet, and it was no more round than it ever was, but there was life there. Wen Qing--Qing-mei, as she had begun to call her in the weeks they had spent so much time together--was certain of it.

Yanli was certain of it, now, as well. In the weeks following the diagnosis, she had felt the changes beginning, quite apart from her the recovery symptoms of lingering wet heaviness in her chest. There was the horrid nausea and sickness in the mornings, the aversion to foods she once loved, a craving for foods of a strange combination. Her belly didn’t look any different, but it certainly felt fuller. And she was so tired. Wen Qing had assured her and A-Yao that it was normal when she was recovering as well as metabolizing for 2.

And ever since the fact had “accidentally” gotten its way around to the rest of her family, as well as the Wen, the servants, and disciples, she was being treated as if she might trip and fall to pieces at any moment--treatment which she amiably bore. Even if it was excessive. Would such pampering really go on for 9 whole months? Her health had always been fragile but now, she hardly had a moment alone!

“You’ve hardly grown at all, yet, and everyone is taking such good care of you,” she murmured down to her own belly, slowly rubbing it.

She wasn’t certain exactly how news got out, as she and A-Yao had intended to wait the 3 customary months to announce the pregnancy--but somehow, everyone in Lotus Pier now knew. She might have suspected A-Xian, with his mischievous streak as wide as the lake, or A-Cheng, who was truly terrible at keeping any secret back from his face; but it just as well might have been given away by the fact that she couldn’t stop cradling her middle or the way that A-Yao’s doting attention on her had increased tenfold.

Besides, A-Xian was far too preoccupied working himself ragged reviving poor Wen Ning, and A-Cheng too busy entrenched in the steps of that cutthroat political dance he must perform to gossip with anyone. It took all of their attention just to keep this whole affair afloat.

She let out a sigh, watching her belly rise and fall with her breath, the tiny purple beads on her hanfu sparkling with every movement. They were all now in an uncomfortable stalemate—which, she supposed, was better than one of the alternatives, being outright war. From what she heard of the initial meeting, it had been tense and heavy, just barely above outright threats. Yanli was just as happy not to have been in any shape to go to Koi Tower and have to face anyone there. A-Cheng seemed incredibly stressed about the outcome, from what she had seen of him, and Yao seemed unhappy, but simply assured her that it was to be expected, assured them all that his father was keeping a wary eye on the other Sects. Jin Guangshan was too politically savvy, he said, to act purely from anger. They still had time to maneuver. And other meetings scheduled.

Even then, they had received plenty of correspondence of outrage, from rival and allied Sects alike—some even from their own people. They had not forgotten the pain of being occupied as a Supervisory Office. The wounds of the loss of all of those in the Lotus Pier compound were not even scarred over, yet, still red and furious. A-Yao was doing things behind the scenes to work on public opinion, but had once described it as carefully walking a tightrope. Yanli would agree, and secretly add that it felt as if it were one high in the air, above crashing waters and hungry mouths. The Jiang still held a strong standing in the jianghu, solid reputation held there equally by the legacy of their parents and A-Cheng's monumental success in the rebuilding of their Sect at his age.

But the children of the Jiang knew better than anyone, save perhaps the other Clans wiped out by the Qishan Wen, to never rely on that remaining true. They were not safe yet. There were miles yet to go, in this.

She wished she could be of more help, but she was still too weak to do much else besides be led about to bask in the shade, as she did now. Today was the first time in a long time she had felt well enough to consider reading, or perhaps embroidery. Maybe even cooking something simple, if she had help. And, in truth, there was not much she could do amidst the street gambler’s Shell Game they were attempting to pull with the Wen amidst the already complicated match of go they always played with the rest of the jianghu.

And so, the leak of who told who about the pregnancy remained a mystery. It didn’t truly bother her; the excitement and congratulations, A-Yuan’s sweet, probing questions. She was just as relieved to be able to not have to keep a secret on top of the upwelling of emotions that swamped her daily. Elation. Terror. Anticipation. Pride. Anxiety. Satisfaction. And, of course, love.

Most of all love.

She had hardly been able to properly absorb what Wen Qing was saying that day, to express the elation and terror that coursed through her--and through A-Yao as well, if the shock in his pale face had been anything to go by--before Qing-mei had somehow herded him out of their room after A-yuan and closed the door firmly behind them. “Jiang-furen,” she had said, coming to sit on the edge of her bed. There was an edge of steel in her face and tone that was nowhere to be found in the gentle hands that folded around Yanli's own. “Please, speak freely. Tell me the truth. Is this what you want?”

Exhaustion had sapped into her bones, as wet and heavy as her breath. “Is…what?” she had trailed off, dizzy.

Wen Qing, seeing this, had first helped her settle back down flat onto her pillows. When the gnawing swirling in her gut and head had abated, slightly, Qing-mei continued, unflinchingly; “This pregnancy. If this isn't what you want, there are ways I can help you that no one will be able to detect. If you are being pressured by Jin Guangyao to--”

“What? A-Yao?“ Yanli had repeated on a laugh more of startlement than humor that had turned into a coughing fit.

As it had squeezed her already sore middle, a strange, aware panic had suddenly overcome her--would coughing so hard hurt the pregnancy? She had curled around her stomach and tried to stifle them, with limited success. From now on, she would be housing another that would share in her discomforts. The thought was…unimaginable.

When the coughing had finally passed, she had gasped, weakly, “Ah, oh no, no…this was planned, we both want to start…. I...we didn't expect...I'm just surprised, I suppose.”

The worried disbelief on Qing-mei’s face had made her close her eyes in weariness, praying for patience and words enough to convince her. She would not live through another well meaning woman trying to pry her marriage apart at the seams because they did not think he deserved her. How to explain to them a husband who laid every choice at her feet? How to properly convey just how safe she had been made to feel in her own marriage? The easiest love she had ever been gifted? “You have gotten the wrong impression, meimei, I'm delighted, I'm...I'm....” Going to have a baby. A baby!

The thought had made her more lightheaded still, either with giddiness, terror, or a combination of the two, she hadn't quite been able to tell.

Even then, it had taken a significant amount of effort to convince her suspicious sister-in-law that, no, her husband was not impregnating her in some sneaky bid to solidify a place of power in their Clan; no, he did not scare, control, or force her; no, he had not been the one to somehow put the idea of transferring her own core to A-Xian into her head. That had been there a while all on its own.

It was still close enough to the failed conversations she had had with Madam Jin that she might have begun to feel the same helpless frustration, if Wen Qing hadn't subsided into a still suspicious acceptance of her wishes and the quickly growing whirlwind of shimmering excitement hadn’t begun swarming through her limbs as every time she said ‘my baby’ and ‘our child’, the future seemed that much more tangible.

And Qing-mei meant well, Yanli knew. Whatever she had seen in A-Yao in their time at the Scorching Sun Palace had clearly scared her deeply, and Yanli wasn't going to dismiss that. Her husband was cunning and clever, able to change faces with the ease of a passing cloud when he needed to. She had seen it herself and she could not, would not deny it. But she knew his heart, knew that he was also kind, sweet, gentle, and frightened--she loved him for all of it. That included the parts he regretted, the parts that Wen Qing hated. Yanli would never have anything to fear from him.

She could tell that Wen Qing still thought she was either helplessly hoodwinked or naive, but she seemed at least satisfied that Yanli wanted this for herself and her family and did not bring up the idea again. In fact, each new day she got to spend with the girl, she seemed to be a little more relaxed. At least she had far more color in her face and light in her eyes than when she had first laid eyes on her in that Lanling forest, looking as much like a corpse as her brother--just a walking one. Yet, even with the improvements to her health and mood, even after weeks, she and A-Cheng still circled each other warily. They practically fled the room whenever they saw that the other had entered.

It might have been amusing if it weren’t so tragic.

How did one matchmake a couple who was, effectively, already married? Yanli thought that she might be able to have some clue, seeing how her and A-Yao’s love had blossomed with care and time, but if the two wouldn’t even share the same air….It reminded her uncomfortably of their parents’ relationship; prickly silence and separate rooms across the Pier. It raised ugly gooseflesh down her back to think of A-Cheng resigning himself to be as miserable in marriage as they clearly had been. She might not have dared to think so as a child, but after her own delightful marriage, knowing what it could feel like…she wept for her parents and all that they had become. For what they both so clearly wanted but didn’t know how to get without sacrificing parts of themselves they refused to let go of, for better or worse.

A-Cheng and Qing-mei didn’t need to love each other. Yanli knew the seed of love was there, in her brother at least, knew that yearning look in his eye. She had seen him as a teenager eagerly waiting for her eye to turn to him--a warming Wen sun, not a burning one. Everything had become hopelessly tangled with rage and regret and duty and grief during the murder of their Clan and the war. But irreparably so? She hoped not. They didn’t need to love each other, but Yanli would have them at least comfortable in their living with each other. She would love to actually host a real wedding for them, one day, in private.

What little she could do for A-Cheng, she tried, probing him gently once in a while--when he had a spare moment to visit, which wasn’t often. She complimented the clothes he had admitted to ordering for Wen Qing; robes in a spectrum of rich plums, burgundies, and muted magentas--red the undertones of each. “Did she ask for those colors in particular?”

“No.” His whole affect always sagged, dulled whenever she gently probed him about his wife and he would stare at his hands.

“Did you choose them yourself, then?”

“...Yes. I…Yes.”

She had been delighted to be surprised by this, though she shouldn’t have been--he had always been a smart dresser with a keen eye for color. Besides some of her Jiang shimei’s and the tailor, she had specifically sought his opinion on her own wedding outfit. He and A-Xian had been planning her entire wedding since they were 8, after all, he was bound to have opinions. And he certainly had--her wedding dress had had both of her brother’s stamps of approval.

Lately, when he came by, he was always well groomed, but could feel the stress humming through him and behind his tired eyes. He could act so prickly, she wondered if anyone was pestering him to make sure he slept well. If they would let themselves, she was sure a wife would be a perfect person to do so. Whenever Yanli tried, he would just say that she shouldn’t worry about him with everything going on with her, that he was sleeping fine, and would proceed to fuss over her instead.

“A-Cheng, what’s troubling you?”

“Nothing, jiejie.”

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetling.

“I don’t have the time to worry about pretending to be married, right now.”

“You could just try talking to her, you know. Just…start a conversation.”

His face scrunched up in a combination of self derision, confusion, and agony, wrinkling his nose and narrowing his eyes. Waiting, she had stroked his hand where it lay balled up on her blanket, his knuckles a pale bite against the rich emerald and purple. “I wouldn’t know what to talk about,” he had finally said, shortly, his voice more of a mumble than the gruff dismissive tone she thought he might have been aiming for.

“You could ask her what she’s feeling, how she likes it here.”

“I don’t think I want to know.” He was staring down at her bedspread, bleakly, tight lines of worry between his brows.

When she had reached up to try to smooth them away, admonishing his doubt with a gentle, “A-Cheng--” he had caught her hand and pressed the backs of her knuckles against his cheek, eyes squeezed shut. After a sharp, indrawn breath, he had announced that he needed to go--and she needed to rest. There was nothing more she could say without making him flee faster.

What a mess all of this was.

Qing-mei was not much more of a help on that front. And Yanli was even less inclined to force her, poor girl--they didn’t have the history and she didn’t want to trap her. Every time she brought up A-Cheng or their marriage or what she felt about the whole relationship, she clammed up and grew solemn. “I’m grateful to Jiang-zongzhu. To all of you,” was all she would ever say, regarding their arrangement.

At least Yanli had finally convinced her to stop calling her Jiang-furen, insisting that if they were going to be sisters now, it only made sense. She had confided in the younger woman that she had never had a little sister before, that she was excited to have someone to call ‘meimei’. At that, quite apart from her unflappable, self assured doctorly attitude, Qing-mei had offered, shyly, that she had never been a little sister before and that she found the idea quite odd. This tacit acceptance of the role delighted Yanli beyond words.

Qing-mei had taken to visiting her long past the time she had finished checking and treating her, taking tea and meals in her room either A-Yao came back or Yanli would, embarrassingly. fall asleep mid sentence. They hadn’t been able to visit like this very often when she had sheltered them in Yiling--Wen Qing would be called away and there had been work to be done, healing A-Cheng. Now, though, they had time and privacy, and their conversations would wander both wide and deep, over being elder sisters to trouble-prone younger brothers, about their shared time in Yiling, their mothers, their favorite books. Qing-mei was very clearly reluctant to confide her worries in her, whether in not wanting to cause her further stress or simply due to her own innate reservation, and so their conversations rarely included fears or the far future.

But, sometimes, she would talk about Wei Wuxian’s progress and Wen Ning. “I don’t know what I’m more afraid of,” she had whispered one evening as the sun set outside, stock still next to Yanli’s bed, staring at the screen that threw spindly shadows of willow’s fingers across like thrashing ropes. “The idea that he may never come back. Or that he might…and I don’t know what he will be.” She had turned her head then, her neck and spine braced bravely, but her large, sweet eyes shining with tears in the low lantern light. “Da-gu, he’s so cold,” she had choked, barely audible.

When Yanli had sat forward and reached out her arms, there was no hesitation when Qing-mei huddled into them, shaking silently.

Yanli herself had not yet seen what was left of Qing-mei’s gentle brother since she had landed at Lotus Pier, barely conscious herself. It hurt her heart to remember the shy, earnest boy she had seen attempting to become invisible behind his sister, despite his standing several inches taller than her at the Cloud Recesses what felt like eons ago. She hardly knew a thing about him, and all she did was through Xianxian and Qing-mei’s eyes. Hopefully there was a future possible for them to get to know each other on their own terms.

Though she wholeheartedly believed in Xianxian’s brilliance and dogged tenacity, she had to admit…a conscious fierce corpse had never been achieved before. And the work was hard and damaging. It had scared her when she had finally seen what A-Xian had looked like after a week of what was clearly just a diet of half forgotten food and resentful energy. She had found him in the family shrine just a few days ago, when it was too rainy to sit outside comfortably. The early autumn had been washing warm, wet storms over them almost daily, but often, they came and went within minutes and she would patiently await the sun beneath a tree and her parasol. That day, however, the day woke to rain, and it had stayed, churning the lake cloudy with disturbed particulates.

Though she enjoyed a good walk in the rain, everyone--A-Yao, A-Cheng, He Si, Qing-mei, Liu-popo, her childhood doctor-- had cautioned against going out in it when she was still fragile, and so her maid had helped her shuffle slowly across shining walkways and summer-verdant ponds pebbled with raindrops, huddled together under a waxed parasol and cloak. When she saw a hunched, dark shape within, she had paused at the door, squinting into the incense and candle warmed gloom within. When she recognized the set of her brother’s shoulders, she had quietly dismissed He Si with a lift of her chin.

A-Xian had looked up when she moved from the fresh, silvery air of the outside to the space of quietly splashing water and remembered prayers. Immediately, the comforting hiss and patter of rain receded even more when she slid the door shut, leaving them surrounded only by the pale darkness of the ornate lotus screen panels--a private little universe. When she turned, A-XIan was already there, helping her out of her cloak, taking the dripping parasol from her hand. “Shijie! Are you sure you should be up?” The shadows beneath his eyes were dark and he had missed a spot on his jaw shaving this morning.

“I don’t think staying in bed for the rest of my pregnancy would be good for me or my baby, A-XIan.” She had softened the already gentle jibe by brushing back the hair from his face and patting his cheek, feeling the prickle under her fingers. “Help me to the cushions?”

He, of course, did, supporting her elbow, his other hand wrapped protectively around her far shoulder. The scent that clung to him was sharp and unpleasant, wholly unlike the memories she associated with him. Long ago, she had buried her nose in the top of his little boy head, and would breathe in soap and sunshine and love--and now, as a man, he used to smell like the spices he liked to eat and something fresh. Now, he smelled like…danger, soot, blood. That alone would have unnerved her. But when they sat next to each other and her eyes adjusted, she could take in the whole of him.

“I know, I know, I look terrible. I look worse than I feel, don’t worry,” he waved off her eye’s widening with feigned ease, smiling.

He had lost weight quickly, leaving him hollow cheeked and wan. His hair was only hastily brushed, his topknot uneven, slightly lopsided, and his eyes were bloodshot. On his hands, cinnabar, soot, and old blood was smeared, half-heartedly wiped, then smeared again, darkening around his nails. “A-Xian,” she had intoned with enough force that he immediately sat up straight, sucking in his lips like a child caught out doing something he knew he shouldn’t be doing. “After we talk, you’re going to take a bath and eat a full meal outside your room. Alright?”

“Really, I’m--”

“A-Xian!” She had broken in, frowning, eyebrows drawn down.

He hunkered down, pouting as he muttered, “Yes, Shijie.” Tilting doleful eyes and pushed out lip up at her, he then whined, “Shijieeee, don’t be mad at me. I’ll do better. Sorry if I’m smelly.” To illustrate this, he theatrically lifted up his sleeve to sniff it, then wrinkled his nose in real distaste. “Ugh. Alright, I get it.”

With a sigh, she had reached for his hands. He had seemed to wake to what was on them and scrubbed his palms on his thighs before taking them. “It’s not that, Xianxian, you know that. I’m worried about you. I’m worried about both of you.”

Apparently, he and A-Cheng had also been warily circling each other, like they did after most fights. Their spats, she had heard from a combination of A-Yao, He Si, and Qing-mei were more mundane and brotherly, now, weeks later--though they ended as often with eye rolling and secret smiles as hurt feelings and tight lipped silences. It had been bad right after their return, she had heard--A-Cheng storming around with a poisonous temper for days and A-Xian working on Wen Ning all hours of the day and night, refusing to leave his room. She hated that she had to hear about it second hand, that they visited her one at a time, that when she was able to emerge from her room, they were often away, doing what they could. She wasn’t around to soothe their rough edges from grinding against the other.

Qing-mei was with her the most, A-Yao a close second, when he wasn’t helping A-Cheng or something else that needed doing around the Pier. Xianxian had only come in a few times, sometimes too exhausted to do anything but drape himself over the edge of her bed and childishly request hair stroking, which she, of course, gave. Once, a day or two after she had discovered she was pregnant, apparently deciding that she was well enough for a scolding, he had come and very seriously told her to never even think about giving him her core again. “Aren’t you glad Wen Qing said no to that nonsense?” he had demanded, frowning at her in displeasure.

Yanli thought it was rich of him being so incensed about it, but she had let it go. “I wasn’t…I don’t remember doing it. It was the fever, I think.”

“Well, don’t even go thinking it!” he had said, fierceness belayed by him anxiously petting at her arm. “Put it out of your head! Alright?”

She thought about a great many things that she didn’t share with him. It wasn’t something she thought of…constantly. Or even very often. It was just something that had reared its head when she had learned of what A-Xian and Wen Qing had done. When he had sat before A-Cheng and herself with A-Yao by his side and tried to pretend it wasn’t the worst thing they had ever heard. She felt sick when she remembered it--sick for both her brothers. She couldn’t think about it too long, or….

But she was, indeed, glad that Qing-mei had stoutly refused her delirious babble. Her core, weak and pitiful as it was, was going to have to support her and this child through her pregnancy. At least it was finally good for something.

With a start, Yanli blinked out of her hazy, sunwarmed ruminations of the past few weeks and back into the garden, now shaded a brilliant blue from the after images her orange eyelids had left. She couldn’t have been dozing long, for she could hear footsteps returning back down the path. But something in the back of her mind perked up at their familiarity and the knowledge that it wasn’t He Si’s stride. Delighted, she levered herself back entirely upright in the chair and twisted around to see her husband emerging from around the dwarf maple whose leaf edges flirted with gold. “A-Yao!”

“I’ve brought you something, Jiang-furen,” he announced with a twinkle of humor in his dimples, presenting her favorite scalloped, lavender parasol, dotted with intricate plum blossoms on a branch. “He Si was very keen that you have it.”

She laughed and shook her head, reaching out to him for a greeting kiss, which he warmly bestowed on her. He smelled and tasted lovely, like he had been walking around out in the fresh air all day. “She frets so much. It couldn’t have anything to do with you fretting so much, could it? Is she coming back?”

“I dismissed her for other duties, as I assumed you might wish to spend time together.”

Delights up on delights! “Oh, always!”

He helped her up from her chair and walked pressed to her side, his arm sure and firm around her, his fingertips brushing her belly beneath her sleeve, out of sight from passing eyes. Oh, A-Yao; her beloved, tangled up A-Yao.

Despite his calm outward face, was so clearly terrified by everything about this, including the prospect of not being by her side at every moment. He was constantly on the move, organizing and advising and assisting and whatever else his clever mind decided that they needed--but in between all this, he would appear anxiously at her side at all hours, asking what he could do, if He Si was attending to her properly, if she needed something. Come to think of it…perhaps she had better make sure her husband had no overt hand in her maid’s currently overly fretful state.

She was fairly certain he was more scared than she was about the prospect of becoming a parent, which was endearing, considering she was the one that would have to give birth and not him. He hid it quite admirably, even for him, buried underneath the more typical worry for her--and now, the baby’s--health. And he clearly planned to “burden” her with none of it. But she could see it in his eyes, could feel it in the way he held her.

When they had discovered she was with child, that night, he had asked to make love to her, and had done so exquisitely sweetly. Well, every time they had made love so far had been sweet, but that night, he had been even more tender, more warm and attentive than ever before. Every press of his skin had been gentle enough that she could barely feel where he began and she ended. Ever since then, he had been treating her as if she were made of precious glass. From him, her husband, she happily accepted the attention. The way that he doted on her never made her feel lessened, like he thought she was some incapable child or weak, silly girl. It only made her feel wanted and precious.

He had been appalled that he had let her go on the arduous trip to find Wei Wuxian, and when she had asked with her expression, smiling softly; Let me?, he had amended that he should have begged her to come back with him to Lotus Pier. She had had to remind her that she couldn’t have. A-Yao had simply sighed deeply and said that he knew. Running her hands over his jaw, where the yellow-brown ghosts of the bruises on his jaw from Zixun were finally no longer visible, she had said, “I’ll be careful now. And so should you, yes?”

He had kissed her slowly into sleep.

Now, together, they agreed to try some cooking in the smaller kitchen, so as not to get in the way of the cooks. It was the most activity than she had attempted in days, but there was no tremble to her hands and her muscles felt like actual muscles today, instead of some wet, quivering mud. Standing felt good instead of arduous. And she would never get her strength back if she lived in a chair for the next 9 months. This kitchen was more cluttered than the main one, and a little darker for the smaller windows, but by no means dirty--it also gave them the added benefit of privacy. It was because of this, she was certain, that A-Yao felt comfortable enough to press up behind her as she stood at the counter and sliced up figs. His arms rested comfortably about her waist, palms pressed to her belly and chin resting on her shoulder as he observed her work. Though his whole front pressed warmly against her back, there was no lascivious invitation in it, only closeness and trust. In public, he was not overtly performative with his affection; a supporting arm while walking here, laying a hand atop hers there. It was when they were alone he felt he could cautiously touch her more freely, as if the eyes of others made his love something lewd. Well…she supposed that might in fact be a concern for him. No matter. Whether a peck in private, a brush of her cheek in public and everything in between--and sometimes more--she adored it all.

“I’m not going to fall over, A-Yao,” she teased. “I’ll let you know if I need to sit down.”

“Of course,” he answered easily, but did not move away, instead nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.

Contended, she hummed and paused in her knife strokes, laying her cheek atop his shoulder. A golden glow, at once fierce and tender, had a permanent place in her chest nowadays. It had nothing to do with her fading illness and everything to do with this bright new future she had been gifted. She was so lucky.

Outside the widow, across the courtyard, someone screamed.

A-Yao spun her back from the window as the bright afternoon outside was split with a crash, an inhuman roar, and more screams, one right after the other. Yanli stumbled, pressed herself against the far wall, her heart pounding wildly against her ribs. Icy gooseflesh cascaded over skin, her stomach knotted in fear. A-Yao, a dagger suddenly in hand, was peering out the window, motionless. She couldn’t see anything from her angle and the leaves outside, but the wild screaming, the roaring continued. The sound of running feet. “What is it?” she whispered, voice pressed thin.

He only wordlessly shook his head, scanning back and forth. A tree stood in front of the window, she knew, obscuring most of the view of the outside.

What on earth could it be? Lotus Pier was protected, there were talismans and wards and--

A-Cheng bellowed something, voice harsh with fear.

A-Cheng.

“A-Li, no--!” A-Yao’s shout followed her out the door, but she couldn’t stop.

Her brother was in trouble. I won’t be left behind again, I can’t, I can’t--

The courtyard stones flew beneath her feet, then the bridge and she could see, flashing into her mind like blinding light off of waves. A-Cheng, across the walkway, Sandu flashing in the sun, Zidian crackling. Still bellowing, pointing. Disciples running to him as quickly as the servants flooded away, wailing in terror. A towering black figure on the other side of the ornamental pond, wreathed in writhing smoke. It ripped out another unearthly snarl as it flung something big away from itself. A body, a person, flailing in midair, screaming. A snap as they crashed through a carved banister and landed in a sickening, motionless heap, a loose pink ribbon fluttering to earth behind them. “He Si!”

A hand clamped on her arm as she started forward. A-Yao had caught up. “A-Li!”

“We can’t! A-Si!” She struggled forward, clutching his sleeve, dragging him along.

Shouts and screams bled into the pounding in her ears, pulse a frantic bird in her head that shrieked. She was only across the walkway, only a dozen steps away. Clangs, a thump, a grunt--oh gods! Then she heard A-Cheng’s voice still shouting orders--not him. A-Yao’s face was sharp and hard. His other hand rose to her shoulder. He was going to pick her up and carry her away, saw his thoughts written like script across his face and she couldn’t, she clutched at him and pleaded, “No, please! A-Yao, please, please!” They couldn’t just leave her here, bleeding, in danger!

His eyes darted, then his pull changed, urging her forward, running with her instead of pulling her back. Her movements were loose with fear, jerky and wild and she nearly fell up the steps onto the walkway. Blood covered the girl's face, pooling crimson rapidly onto the shining wood around her. They bent, dragging her back to get better purchase on her limp body. Her feet dragged pitifully. Yanli’s hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t close them around her arms properly. One still held the knife from the kitchen. She had forgotten she still had it.

The girl wasn’t moving. A-Yao hefted her torso up in his arms, turned to her, opened his mouth--

A fresh wave of screams.

“Jiejie!” A-Cheng’s voice cracked from across the second bridge as she heard a shuffle of wind, a thump behind them and suddenly, the roots of her teeth ached, and that smell--the sharp, burning metal-blood smell that clung to A-Xian--flooded her.

Looking up, the sun blinded her for a split second before vicious smoke--resentful energy stung her eyes, flooded her throat--white hand filled her vision. Then, something canoned into her side, knocking her away to sprawl away from He Si. Blood and sky spun around her. Battlefield gore, fear, death choked her throat. Gasping, coughing, she scrambled, to her hands and knees, head whirling. When she looked up, her entire body went ice cold and all she could hear in the world was screaming.

It was Wen Ning, black veins sprawling across his face, the empty white holes of his eyes fixed on who he now held by the throat. A-Yao, who had knocked her aside.

No!

Even though the foul resentful energy wreathing them both, her husband’s eyes were alight with more rage than fear, teeth bared. He had already buried his dagger hilt deep in Wen Ning’s chest, right in his heart. The fierce corpse vented another noise human throats should not be able to make and lifted A-Yao, like he was light as a rag, off his feet. Thrashing, choking, A-Yao brought up a leg to kick the dagger hilt deeper, another already in his other hand.

Wen Ning’s other hand shot out, latched around his wrist. Yanli felt the snap in her chest more than heard it. His dagger clanged to the ground. She could see those fingers closing further, like a vise, crushing. A-Yao made no sound--couldn’t, his throat was squeezed, he couldn’t--he couldn’t--

Screaming--she was screaming, that noise was her--she stumbled up, forward, swinging the kitchen knife up to hack at Wen Ning’s arms, wrists, anything to free her husband. She was close enough that the writhing mist stung like nettles over her skin when something collided with her again, knocking her back from them, sending the knife clattering away from her grip. Qing-mei clung to her, dragged her back, shouting something into her ear. She fought against her, still screaming. He had A-Yao!

It had been only moments since Wen Ning had landed behind them, but time was boiling, stretching, bursting around them. No no no no no--

Crackling, blinding purple wrapped around Wen Ning’s pale throat, pulled tight and he at least dropped A-Yao’s arm, snarling, clawing at it. Zidian. A-Cheng was there, yanking back on Zidian hard enough to bow Wen Ning’s spine back. But he still had A-Yao’s throat clenched in his grip, still held him up entirely as he kicked at him, hands locked on Wen Ning’s wrist.

“A-Ning, stop! Stop!” Wen Qing cried, arms still knotted around Yanli, still dragging her back as she struggled.

The disciples clamored nearer, shouting, flinging talismans that sizzled into ash as soon as they met the corona of energy spilling from Wen Ning. Some were already limping, bleeding, and A-Cheng shouted at them to stay back. A piercing, chilling note shrieked above the clamor, freezing Wen Ning still as stone.

A-Xian.

Frantically, Yanli searched for him, found him pelting around the corner of the Banquet Hall, Chenqing at his lips. “Wei Wuxian!” A-Cheng roared over at him. “Make him stop!”

A-Xian was pale and wide eyed as his fingers flew over the black lacquer of his flute. He skidded to a halt to suck in a huge breath and trill a complicated, twisting melody that raised all the hairs on Yanli’s body. A shudder went through Wen Ning like a wave across the pond and he began to shake. A quiet, abrupt gasp broke from A-Yao’s lips, as if the fingers around his throat had loosened fractionally. But his face was almost blue, eyes rolling back--and black veins were snaking from under the fierce corpse’s palm.

“A-YAO!”

In that instant of brief stillness, like a shadow, A-Cheng rose up from behind Wen Ning, Zidian pulled taut in his hand, Sandu raised--his face was dark as a thundercloud, death in his eyes. “Zongzhu!” Qing-mei’s gasped, “Husband, please! Don’t hurt him!”

A-Cheng’s hesitated, eyes flickered, his killing intent cracked. “A-Cheng!” Yanli shrieked, fighting and thrashing, throat raw.

She didn’t even know what she was begging him to do. All she knew was that A-Yao was now just twitching instead of kicking and she could not get free.

A-Cheng’s face hardened as Chenqing’s tone shrilled up and down a haunting scale, and, with a huge heave, he wrenched Zidian back. The frozen Wen Ning toppled down sideways with the force of it, collapsing both he and A-Yao over into the ornamental lotus pond beside them with a splash. Yanli no longer had to break free of Wen Qing’s grip, for they were both racing to the pond as fast as they could.

But A-Cheng slid in front of them, flinging out his arms to block them both with his chest as Chenqing’s notes cut off, A-Xian’s panicked voice instead yelling out a warning; Wen Ning reared up from the water behind him, roaring, thrashing, and splashing.

A-Yao did not.

#Yaoli #jgy #jin guangyao #jiang yanli #jyl #peony to lotus #my stuff #rarepair #mdzs #the untamed #my fic #the untamed fanfic #Well hellooooo there :3 (said while showing up a year later with the update)#I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY I TRIED TO GIVE YOU A NICE BREAK BEFORE ACTION AND ANGST AGAIN 😬 But don't worry every little thing's gonna be alright #The next chapter will be from Xichen's POV!#I may come back and do some editing of grammar things because I've rearranged it a few times

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