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anmylica · 1 year

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Like Slow Spinning Redemption Chapter Five

Tagging the Usual Crew: @kmomof4 @xarandomdreamx @sotangledupinit @zaharadessert @tiganasummertree @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose

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They marched Liam and Killian for several more minutes, though Liam wasn’t sure how long it had actually been since they were in a very dark corridor. Finally, they jerked the two men to a halt.

“You can remove them now,” Silver called out. The crew members holding Killian and Liam removed the bags covering their heads, and Killian and Liam were left blinking at the sudden brightness. They looked around at their surroundings with squinting eyes, trying to discern where they were and, if possible, how to escape it, though both brothers were shocked at where their former crew had led them. Killian and Liam were on a rocky overlook that opened to the Boiling Sea below. The other men were on the more solid cliff, and Silver was between them and Liam. Killian was a step away from Liam to his back. Two other crew members untied their arms and stepped back to join the others.

“Leave Killian out of this! He had nothing to do with it; it was my decision,” Liam pleaded desperately. If he could at least make sure that Killian walked away unscathed, then the price for his perfidy would be worth paying.

“He should have gone down with the ship, same as us. As far as I’m concerned, he’s guilty by association,” Silver retorted, a hard look on his face.

“He didn’t know!” Liam protested again weakly.

“You made a deal with the devil,” Silver cut him off. “Your fates were sealed the moment you mutinied against me. Hades allowed us to die in that storm, but we wouldn’t have died if it weren’t for you and your mutiny,” Silver sneered, clenching his hands into fists.

“If you hadn’t sailed us into that bloody storm, we wouldn’t have had reason to mutiny!” Killian roared. “We’re not responsible for your bad decisions. The whole crew was there and witnessed your refusal to turn around and avoid it. We are not responsible for your greed.”

Suddenly, a burst of fire rose up from the Boiling Sea, causing them all to flinch back. The heat was scorching, and Liam felt a palpable streak of fear at the thought that that was what he had to look forward to for all eternity. Once the fire had receded, Liam could see that Killian’s words had made some of the crew think about what was happening, though it didn’t appear as if anyone was going to let them go.

Silver stepped closer to Liam. “It’s time for you to pay for the crimes you committed. Gentlemen, if you’ll kindly step forward into the fire, we’ll make this short and sweet.”

“You think that revenge will right the wrongs done to you in life, but all it will do is condemn you to an afterlife of misery and torment,” Killian interjected in an obvious attempt (at least to Liam) at trying to convince the other side not to fight. “It is not the ending you seek, and it won’t ease your suffering here.”

Silver rolled his eyes. “Oh, it’ll ease my suffering,” he retorted. “I’ve waited centuries to figure out what went wrong. Watching you two burn will make it all worth the wait.”

With that, Silver moved to push Killian off the rocky precipice and into the flames, but Killian was able to sidestep away, letting Silver stumble beyond Killian, just managing to stop his momentum before he pitched off it headfirst.

Killian shook his head exasperatedly. “Pushing us into a fiery abyss is not going to get you a happily-every-after down here. All it will do is add further penance to your judgment. Take it from me. I spent centuries pursuing revenge against a wrong done to me, and it only left me with more regrets and torment from all the mistakes I made. Don’t let this be your last mistake, Silver! Only forgiveness will bring you a pleasant ending now.”

Silver moved closer to his crew and signaled for them to move closer in an attempt at using sheer numbers to force the two brothers into the fire. Though they seemed reluctant to Liam, they still obeyed the order. Finally, Silver turned and cast one last hard look at them.

“It’s time to walk the plank,” Silver simply said.

Liam watched as Killian’s face fell. He stared at his brother in amazement. For all the time they had spent together, Killian had never once talked of forgiveness. Not for their father for abandoning them, not for the original captain their father had sold them to, not for Silver for his maltreatment of them after he had bought out their contracts of servitude. Killian had always said that forgiveness made a man weak, but here he was touting the virtues of it.

It suddenly struck Liam that Killian wasn’t just talking about Silver and their old crew mates; he was really talking about forgiving himself. Liam had always thought that forgiveness was the mark of a true hero, and here was his younger brother stepping up to offer that olive branch to their pseudo-adversaries. Liam had never thought he’d see the day that Killian demonstrated that characteristic; he had always said it would be a cold day in Hell when Killian would propose forgiveness as a tactic.

Perhaps he didn’t know his brother as well as he had thought. Liam stared at Killian, seeing before him the man his brother had grown to be. It was like looking at a whole new person, and Liam suddenly had with great clarity the thought that he had gotten everything wrong about Killian, and Emma by extension. And now they were both going to pay the price for Liam’s foolish pride.

Liam stepped forward to intercept the men who were moving in closer to him and Killian. He raised his hands in supplication and said, “I’ll gladly walk it. Just spare Killian, please. He has nothing to do with this.”

SIlver sneered. “He should’ve gone down along with the ship, like the rest of us, as I said before. And now, he finally will.” Silver smirked, and he moved with the rest of the crew in unison closer towards them.

Killian and Liam took a step backward, being careful not to step off the rocky overhang. The fire churned below them, seeming to feed upon a fuel source that was invisible to them as it surged higher. It was as if the flames sensed that they were there, hoping not to be taken by the flames, and the flames wanted to devour them despite their wishes.

Silver and his men continued to press forward. One step, two steps, three. Killian and Liam backed up smaller steps in response. It truly looked to Liam as if this was the end for them both. He turned to his brother to say the words that couldn’t make up for all that he had done, though he hoped it would bring the two of them closure.

“I’m sorry, Killian. I wanted to be this perfect example for you… to make up for our father being such an abysmal one. I wanted to be a hero for you, to be worthy of your praise. I wanted to inspire you to be a hero, too.”

Killian looked at his brother, pain, grief, and regret shining out of his eyes. “All you did was raise the bar so high, the only thing I could do was fail,” Killian responded. Liam wondered if that was what plagued Killian the most now, that he thought he had failed in his endeavors to be a better man, a hero worthy of the title. From what Liam had just witnessed, Killian had more than succeeded at becoming a hero; he had exceeded all the expectations and hopes Liam had had for his brother when they were growing up.

“No more talking!” Silver shouted, an unpleasant look on his face. “Time to face justice, boys!” He laughed a maniacal laugh that some of the crew echoed, though not every one of them did.

Just as they were about to move closer to shove Killian and Liam off the rock, a bright blue light erupted behind them. They all turned and saw the light was coming from the blue flames that preceded Hades’ use of magic as transportation. Sure enough, as quickly as they had come, the flames died down to reveal Hades. He glanced around at the gathered group and smirked.

“Did someone decide to have a party and forget to invite me?” Hades asked rhetorically.

Silver looked shocked to see the god standing there. “Lord… Lord Hades,” he choked out before his voice failed him.

“So, what are we all doing here? Huh? This is an odd place to meet, isn’t it?” Hades reached out to straighten Silver’s collar.

“We… we were just…” Silver started, his voice failing him again.

“I mean, this is a place for judgment, but I haven’t ordered for any of you to be Judged.” Hades turned and glanced over the crew members, who said nothing, before turning to look at Liam and Killian Jones. “Who gave the orders for this?”

“No one gave us any orders, my Lord,” Silver answered after gulping nervously.

“No one gave you any orders,” Hades parroted, placing his hands in his pockets. “Then why would you take judgment into your own hands?” Hades grasped his chin in mock thought. “Oh! I bet this is for the mutiny attempt that resulted in your deaths, is it not?”

No one responded. “Is that true, Captain Silver?” Hades pressed.

Silver nodded once. “They should pay for what they did,” he responded, feeling slightly bolder since Hades hadn’t done anything to him for bringing the Jones brothers to this place without permission from the god.

“I see,” Hades said simply. “And why is that?”

Silver blinked. “Because… because I nor none of my crew would have died, my Lord. We’d have been able to continue with our lives if not for their treachery. They were the ones who cost me my happy ending in life. Without their actions, we might have been able to recover the Eye of the Storm, and we would have all been very rich men, able to live out the rest of our days in comfort!”

Silver’s tone grew more and more indignant as he carried on, and Liam had a sinking feeling that that tone was going to cost him dearly. He watched as Hades tilted his head one way and then another in exaggerated consideration for Silver’s words. Silver, getting caught up in his emotions, didn’t realize how dangerous the situation was.

“Oh, but you see, the Jones brothers had nothing to do with your deaths,” Hades interupted. “You were on borrowed time regardless. You wouldn’t have made it out with the Eye of the Storm. You were fated to die.”

Silver sneered. “Not if Liam Jones hadn’t listened to you!”

Hades hummed. “I suppose that’s true. But you can’t fault him for following orders. After all, you always beat him and his brother when they didn’t follow yours.”

“Only when he didn’t follow my orders!” Silver hissed. “And I never gave them the order to shipwreck us and drown us!”

Hades smirked. “No, that was me.” Having had enough of the conversation, he blew softly in Silver’s direction. The wind generated picked Silver up and tossed him off the rocky overhang on which they all still stood. Silver’s eyes grew wide as he realized what was about to happen. He grasped the air uselessly, trying in vain to grasp back onto the rock to keep from falling, but it was too late.

Liam watched in horror as Silver screamed a long, “No,” but none of them could intervene. The flames grew higher and higher until they had surrounded Silver’s form and dragged him down into the depths of the boiling sea churning below them. The surface of the liquid flames lurched and ebbed as it swallowed Silver. Liam peered down into the depths, but it was no use. Silver couldn’t be found. Liam exchanged horrified looks with Killian before they both turned back to Hades. The crew members watched with increasing fear as Hades turned his attention towards the brothers Jones.

Hades chuckled for a moment before saying, “I give the orders around here, not him. And as for the Jones brothers. One of them kept up his end of our bargain and gets to live, while the other escaped my dungeon, and for that, he has to pay. At last, we'll see the end of Captain Hook and this time, you won't be able to protect him,” he addressed Liam.

Liam quickly stepped in front of Killian. “No,” he stated, shaking his head. “I won’t let you hurt Killian, no matter what kind of deal we made.”

Hades shrugged. “Fine, have it your way. It makes no difference to me whether you join him or not.” Hades blew again a breath at Liam, knocking Liam back and off the rock. Unlike Silver, Liam’s flight path helped him end up just over the cliff face.

He heard Killian cry, “No,” and to his astonishment, Liam saw that Killian had managed to grab his hand to keep him from falling over. The only thing keeping Liam from plunging into the depths of the roiling flames below them was Killian’s hand clinging desperately to his.

“Liam, please,” Killian panted. “Hang on.”

Liam shook his head. “I’m sorry brother. For everything I’ve done. I just wanted you to have the example in your life that I never had. Can you forgive me?”

Killian blinked and shook his head in dismissal. “Yes,” he breathed. “I forgive you. But that’s not what’s important.”

Killian paused for a moment, thinking about Emma’s message just before he and Liam had been dragged off, about forgiveness of yourself being the most important thing to redemption. He thought of how he had told her of his belief before he had discovered that she had turned him into a Dark One against his will that all sins could be forgiven when someone loved you. Perhaps he was right in his belief, but he finally realized that forgiveness of others meant nothing if you couldn’t forgive yourself of the role you had played in others’ turmoil. Emma was right all along.

“But you need to forgive yourself,” Killian told to Liam, his voice straining with the effort it was costing him to hold onto his older brother for just that little bit longer.

Liam processed this and shook his head. “I can’t,” he stated firmly. “Not after what I did to you. Not after what I cost you. The only way to make amends is for me to pay the price. I finally understand that. This is the price for my cowardice.”

“No,” grunted Killian. “No. Liam!” He yelled desperately, trying to clutch his brother’s hand more firmly in his, but it was too late. Liam had let go, finally understanding that the path to being a hero wasn’t just giving speeches and encouraging words for others to follow. It was about walking the hard path even when it would be easier to go along with what everyone else did. It was about actually forgiving others for their transgressions against you and standing up for what was right.

It was about paying the price so that others wouldn’t have to.

Liam plummeted to the flames, keeping his eyes on his brother’s anguished face. He hoped Killian wouldn’t blame himself for not being able to save Liam from his fate a second time. He hoped that Killian would understand that he made his sacrifice for Killian’s future. He hoped that Killian would be able to return to life with Emma. He felt a brief pang of regret for leaving things the way he did with Killian’s beloved. As the flames finally rose up and engulfed him, burning his flesh and his clothing, he hoped above all else that his sacrifice would enable Hades to be brought down once and for all.

Killian rose to his feet, unbeknownst to Liam, to face Hades. A look of resignation covered Killians’ face, though there was a slight hint of dread at what was to come. Killian knew the misdeeds he had done, the sins he had committed. He was ready to face them, though his still heart lurched at the thought of Emma never knowing what had happened to separate them this time. As he stared at Hades, a white light began to shine, steadily growing brighter and brighter until it captured everyone’s attention.

Hades and Killian turned to look. The Boiling Sea had morphed in the time it had swallowed Liam into an ocean of the bluest sea Killian had ever seen. The sky was near cloudless, with only a few white puffy clouds lazily floating past in the distance, and a beautiful brigantine bobbed in the water, her sails unfurled to catch in the breeze that was now filling the cavern.

“No,” Hades breathed with a sharp exhale, suddenly as angry as Killian had ever seen him.

“What’s happening?” Killian asked, turning to Hades for answers. Hades glared at him murderously, and suddenly, Killian knew that whatever this was, it was the exact opposite of what Hades had intended. Killian felt a great satisfaction come over him at Hades’ angry and mildly frightened look.

“You will pay for this,” Hades vowed to Killian before disappearing in the same blue flames that had signaled his arrival.

Once Hades had disappeared, Killian turned back to the ocean scene in front of them and gasped. Liam was standing in a row boat being lifted back up to safety by a plume of water. Liam looked his hands over in astonishment, for the last thing he had seen and felt was the searing pain of being burned. There were no traces of burns anywhere on his body; the fire had judged him and deemed him worthy of a more peaceful afterlife.

He looked up at Killian, who had been kneeling throughout his exchange with Hades. Liam’s row boats slowly rose the rest of the way until the water was level with the cliff, lapping at its edges. Killian turned in astonishment and slowly stood.

“Liam,” he said, “you’re safe.”

Liam smiled. “Yes. It appears I am.” He chuckled, looking down at the floor of the rowboat. “I suppose this was a sacrifice I should have made long ago. Now I can finally depart from this place.” He raised his head and met Killian’s eyes. The boat docked itself to the ledge, steadying in the wake after a brief moment of rocking.

Killian and Liam looked back to the crew members that had been affected by Liam’s decisions so long ago.

Killian looked back to his brother, finally content that this would be the last time he would see Liam. “Then go.” He turned to their former crewmen. “All of you. Now that you finally know the truth, your unfinished business is complete as well,” he continued, realizing only now that that was the reason they were all in this same place. Liam’s refusal to accept his role as a villain in their stories was the reason why they couldn’t move on, and now that Liam had accepted it, there was nothing holding them here to this part of the Underworld.

“Get on board, men.” Killian knelt to study the boat so they could all embark as well. The crew moved forward hesitatingly, smiling once they realized they actually could board the rowboat with Liam. Once the last remaining crew member boarded, Killian let go and stood up from his crouched position.

Liam looked at his brother with concern. “What about you, brother? What will you do now?”

Killian shook his head. “My unfinished business isn't done yet. Not until Emma and I have defeated Hades.”

Liam grimaced at the mention of his brother’s lover. “Tell her I'm sorry, and I was wrong. She does want what's best for you.”

Killian smiled in acknowledgement at just how true that statement was. Killian had never had someone other than Liam fight for what was best for Killian, and Liam could now recognize it. He couldn’t have asked for a better partner in life for his younger brother, Liam decided, than Emma Swan.

Liam smiled at his brother. “And don't worry about reaching that bar anymore, Killian,” he said firmly. “You've become a true hero in a way I never could.”

Killian nodded his head, lowering his eyes bashfully at the compliment from his hero growing up.

Liam held out his hand to shake Killian’s one last time. “Goodbye, younger brother.”

Killian grinned broadly at Liam finally getting his title as the middle son right. “Goodbye.”

They broke their handshake and Killian took a step back. The rowboat magically undocked itself and began making its journey to the brigantine in the distance, needing no one to row it. Killian stood there on the ledge, with his hand in the air, waving his goodbye to the best influence he had had in his childhood.

Liam watched his brother shrink in the distance, not wanting to take his eyes off of Killian’s figure until he absolutely had to. He wondered at life’s twists and turns that had resulted in him getting to this point. Though Liam had never pictured his end being like this, he couldn’t help but be grateful that his fate had ended with him once again sailing the sea. Finally, once Killian had disappeared, he turned and looked at the brigantine that was looming largely ahead.

Once the rowboat had reached the ship, it docked by itself. Liam reached out to steady the lifeboat and assist the other crew members with boarding. Once every man had ascended the top ladder up the hull of the ship, he climbed it as well. Once he got to the rail, he swung his legs over, and at last, at long last, he was back on board a sailing ship. The smell of the sea air called to him. He had thought he would never again get to experience it.

Turning back one last time to the place they had come from, Liam realized that the cavern was no longer visible. Instead, only ocean could be seen as far as the eye could see. Nonplussed but convinced that it simply had to be the magic that formed the Underworld, he turned back to the first mate, a young man in his early thirties with sun-bleached brown hair and deep skin, who was waiting patiently for Liam to acknowledge him with a smile.

“Welcome aboard the ship, sir,” the man smiled.

“Thank you,” responded Liam. “Might I have the pleasure of making my introduction to the captain of this fine vessel?”

“Why, that would be you, sir.” The man bowed his head.

“I’m the captain?” Liam asked disbelievingly.

The man nodded again. “That would be correct.”

Liam stared. “What would the name of this vessel be, by any chance?”

The first mate shrugged. “She’s nameless at the moment.”

“Really?” Liam asked.

“Yes,” the first mate replied. “She’s been waiting for you to give her a name.”

Liam nodded. He thought for a brief moment before making up his mind. “Let’s call her The Savior’s Light .” He could think of no finer name for this beautiful vessel than one that would honor the woman that had enabled him to be brought to her.

“Very good, sir. And what are your orders?”

“First, tell me your name, sailor.”

“Smith,” replied the first mate. “Matt Smith.”

Liam smiled approvingly. “Well, then, Mr. Smith. Let’s see how far this horizon goes, shall we?”

Mr. Smith grinned broadly. “Aye, aye, Captain.” Liam watched in satisfaction as the men all jumped to carrying out his order as the first mate cried out, “Weigh anchor! Hoist the sails! Mister Bloom, work out our heading! We’re chasing the horizon!”

The answering cries of, “Aye, aye!” put a broad smile on Liam’s face. If this was the afterlife, he could get used to it. Liam smiled. Perhaps he would even encourage the crew to stock up on a few barrels of rum while they were docked at the next port.

Feeling content for perhaps the first time since he had joined the navy, he allowed himself to hum a line from a sea shanty, finishing it by singing under his breath the lines, “Drink up, my mateys, yo ho!” Liam grinned broadly as the ship began to pick up speed beneath his feet.

#Like Slow Spinning Redemption #Chapter 5 #once upon a time #ouat #captain swan fanfic #captain swan #killian jones #captain hook #emma swan #season 5 episode 15 the brothers jones #Extended edition #anmylica writes

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prompt-jar · 11 months

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Stallion Jack

(This was written for a prompt I found on servicescape and I figured I put it up here so it wouldn’t just collect dust in the depths of my files)

If you ask, people can tell you a lot about Stallion Jack. And all of it is wrong. They will tell you tall tales about a gallant highwayman. Stories about a dashing and daring gentleman. They will tell you of swashbuckling heroism, only matched by his chivalrous respect for his well-to-do victims. It’s all a load of hogwash.

No one will acknowledge the truth of the matter. No one wants to think of this mythologized figure as the ne’er-do-well he was. And that is what he was. A thief, a scoundrel, a murderer. He was a plague on the countryside while he lived. Gods only know how many bodies lay lost in the forests he roamed.

However, the universe always has a way of balancing itself. Oh, it balances itself very well. You may not notice it, but it happens. And though people will tell you lies, saying he died for love, or he gave up his ways and died of old age among family, or even that he never died at all. The truth of the matter is that he is dead, and his manner of death was something that would haunt one’s nightmares.

You see, young one, Stallion Jack was not a good man. He stole and killed. Though usually he remained free and unhindered, avoiding capture and thus facing the repercussions of his crimes. But everyone makes mistakes. Everyone has accidents. And Stallion Jack’s? Well, one of his proved to be fatal.

There was a holy man. Or rather, that’s what he told people. Rector Evrouin was a well-known man of the church. A priest of the goddess of governance, Phonja, I believe. Though I think he was more closely aligned with the blessing of Sontis myself, he was not a good man himself. Not that it really matters who gave him the power. He was a well-known holy man, and it was rumored that he dabbled in dark magics. This is what matters. This, and the fact that he died.

Yes, Rector Evrouin of the Temple of Phonja died a bloody death at the hands of Stallion Jack.

Now, when Stallion Jack realized who he had killed, he knew he was in trouble. He knew, and he was afraid of what could be coming for him. I said earlier that I believed Evrouin was more closely aligned with the blessing of Sontis. And Sontis, well, he is the God of Revenge.

Afraid of the repercussions of his actions, Stallion Jack hid away. He ceased his robbery and moved to a far corner of the continent, laying low and trying his hand at living an honest life. And this could have worked out for him, if not for the universe’s penchant for balancing itself. Oh, and that pesky little curse of course.

Stallion Jack, though he had given up his life of crime, was haunted by peculiar nightmares. A shadowy figure, standing just at the foot of his bed. Paralyzing nightmares. Of course, he would always awaken to find that they were just that. Dreams. Strange, haunting, horrible dreams. And then one night? Well, one night he woke up and was frozen with fear. That figure from all those horrid dreams was there. Right at the foot of the bed, as if Jack hadn’t woken at all. Oh, Jack tried to defend himself. He really did. But there isn’t much one lone former highwayman can do against a curse. Or against a servant of a God. Jack froze when the figure spoke to him. Only a sentence. But enough to turn the man’s black heart to stone. The figure spoke in a rattling voice, “Repent your sins, my child.”

And that night, in that bed, Stallion Jack died. And he died in agony, dragged by the Guardians of Irrathis into the depths of damnation, surrounded by the screams, shouts, and jeers of his many, many victims. And through it all, Rector Evrouin watched with dead eyes, and a small smile on his face.

#servicescape prompt #jar writes

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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just a scratch [childe, diluc, xiao]

prompt: you get injured. of course, your partner doesn't like that. characters: childe, diluc, xiao w/ gn!reader word count: ~1.9k words warnings: descriptions of canon-typical violence, near-death injuries, kinda angsty? but things end up okay. death (not any major characters) a/n: :) first actual non-event piece in a while huh? dainsleif, kaeya, and zhongli in part 2 because this was getting pretty long LOL i haven't written anything action-y like this on my blog before (i think?) so lmk if you like it! :)

childe

don't fall in love with your underlings, la signora had warned the eleventh harbinger. they're supposed to be disposable.

now, as childe watches your form crumple to the ground, a sick and twisted part of him wishes he listened to her. childe couldn't remember who was wrong in this situation. were you the one out of place? or were the treasure hoarders? you were typically the known variable, but the ones who were in debt to childe weren't, which meant that your response to them would be predictable at best.

what childe hadn't calculated, however, was the way a treasure hoarder managed to slice at the back of your knees and force you to the ground. you had always been quick on your feet, but the treasure hoarders were faster. upon seeing the indebted, useless, vile treasure hoarder clamber over your back and rush to attempt to slit your throat, childe sees red.

and, for the first time in several months, he transforms. in a flash of neon purple electro energy, childe reappears in the foul legacy form. even from the viewpoint of his increased height, childe can still see the fear in your eyes as you strain against the treasure hoarder above you. but, with your legs out for the count and your weapon pinned underneath you in your fall, you have little to no leverage.

it enrages childe. you, one of the best fighters he knows, deserved better than to be taken down by some filthy, lowlife treasure hoarder. you and childe had so much left to do, so much left to see, and childe had so much he hadn't yet told you. with the fury of a grecian hero, childe throws his spear forward and watches as it flings the treasure hoarder on top of you off with ease. in response, you begin to seek safety, dragging yourself off to the side while childe finishes off those dumb enough to even think about harming you.

sure, should childe collect his debts rather than seeking revenge? yes. but, will the tsaritsa necessarily care? no. she is the goddess of love and childe lives to serve. you watch as you see the anger poured into each hit as he finishes off the rest of the treasure hoarders. his transformation and method of fighting is complete overkill, but you realize that childe is only doing this to send a message. however, your ogling is interrupted by another fatui agent capturing your attention as they approach you to assist you.

the agent picks you up and you take one last look at childe before promptly passing out in the arms of your ally. by the time you awake, you're nestled securely in an infirmary bed. bandages coat your legs, but you wiggle your toes, sighing in relief as you see them moving. the noise of your sighing alerts the man sitting next to you, whose attention immediately snaps up at the sight of you.

childe, you acknowledge. his eyes are rimmed with red and you've never seen your lover worse for wear, but before you can extend a hand to cup his face, he's extending his towards you. childe's hands gently wrap around yours, as if he's afraid to squeeze too tight, and he sends you a weary smile.

"did you finish them off?" you ask softly and childe nods.

"good," you respond and childe merely echoes your statement in a soft tone. his face contorts with anguish and, as he holds your hands, childe cries with relief at your safety.

diluc

it was always the fatui, huh? fatui this, fatui that. living the life of the darknight hero meant that diluc would never truly get a break but man, he was irate that the fatui had the audacity to ambush his travels, especially with you by his side. but, with a vision strapped to your hip, you were more than capable of holding your own, especially as you materialized your weapon into the air.

"i do not wish to fight," you hiss at the fatui skirmishers who surround you and diluc. "but the fatui have never been respectful of people's wishes, have they?"

diluc's back rests against yours as the two of you brace yourself for the battle about to occur. the fatui strike first, raising their weapons and the clash of metal against metal echoes through the air. pyro energy combines with the energy of your vision as you and diluc battle the snezhnayan infiltrators.

"fuck," you whine and diluc hears the noise of you hitting the ground, followed by triumphant laughter of the fatui agents. in a rush of panic, diluc sends far too large of a blast at the fatui before him, but he doesn't regret it after he whirls around to see your crumpled form on the floor. a fatui vanguard raises their hammer over your head and swings down, but diluc's claymore interrupts its path.

"i'll kill you," diluc promises the agent in front of him. "don't even think about touching them."

the skirmisher's lips quiver in concern at the steely nature of diluc's words, but before he can beg for mercy for attempting to kill what diluc treasures most in the world, diluc casts a wave of pyro energy at them, sending them stumbling back. the redhead hesitantly steps over your hunched form to glare daggers at the three fatui left standing.

blinded by his own rage, diluc incinerates the grass before him, focused only on protecting you and keeping you safe, even if it results in him pushing himself too hard. after everything the fatui has done to him, diluc feels incensed by the fact that they even think they could get away with this. it isn't until he feels your hand wrap around his ankle that he's taken out of his own infuriated trance.

"'luc," you mutter, but the noise is enough to have his gaze immediately snapping down to you. "don't kill them... it's not worth it."

your face is bloodied from the fall and diluc glances back at the now-fallen fatui soldiers. he's rendered them unconscious, but they'll live to see another day thanks to your mercy. after all, diluc has more important things to attend to, such as getting you medical assistance.

"where did they hit you?" is the first question that leaves diluc's lips as he crouches down to look at you.

"my stomach," you respond, gesturing down to the slowly bleeding wound that stains your outfit. diluc's face shifts in worry as he props you up against the side of the wagon the two of you had been riding in. his hands shakily fumble for the hem of your shirt and he lifts it upwards to expose the injured skin. his breaths are shaky and, even in your disoriented state, you can tell the state of panic he's in.

after all, the sight of someone he loves laying injured before him is something diluc has seen far too often.

"hey," you murmur, doing your best to focus your eyes on him as your fingertips begin to glow with the energy of your vision. "i... can heal it a little. i'll be fine."

your words are slightly garbled and diluc's shell-shocked expression doesn't leave his face until he sees the energy of the vision beginning to repair your wounds. you manage to temporarily close the wound and, upon the cessation of bleeding, diluc snaps back into action.

"you are safe," diluc murmurs, but it sounds more as if he's trying to convince himself. he quickly propels himself upwards and climbs into the wagon, rifling around for the first aid kit within.

"hey," you say when he finally returns with it, nearly dropping you as his hands shake in fear. "i'm okay, diluc. you saved me."

diluc nods, staring down at the box before glancing up at you. you smile reassuringly at him and, despite the pure anguish in his eyes, he does his best to return your smile in the form of a soft smirk of his own.

xiao

"xiao!" you scream as you plummet off the edge of a cliff, having been injured by the stonehide lawachurl you were fighting. you hadn't expected it to be sleeping nearby and, upon your exploration of the area, it angrily revealed itself with a roar and charged at you. you hadn't prepared yourself for a fight with such a massive creature and, as a result, had easily been knocked off the side of the cliff.

the wind whistles around you as you fall and you wonder if your lover had even heard your scream. the adeptus had always told you to call out his name if you ever had an emergency and you figured there was no greater emergency than actively falling to your death. you had just wanted to collect cor lapis. was that too hard to ask?

your eyes flutter closed as you accept your fate, but a flash of green above you pierces through the thin veil of darkness your eyelids provide. strong arms secure themselves around your figure and you hear a grunt as your savior makes impact with the ground. you open your eyes to be met with the brilliant amber ones of the yaksha you held so dear to you. his eyes are blown wide with worry, but he gently sets you down.

"are you okay?" he asks gruffly and you nod, still in shock from the fall. before you can tell him to wait, xiao waves a hand over his face and rematerializes his mask. his polearm materializes in his hand and xiao wordlessly teleports to the cliff you just fell from. anger courses through his veins as the lawachurl screams at him. in his anger, xiao curses back at it before weaving deftly through its clumsy strikes. xiao's polearm pierces it with ease and xiao watches as it falls over, defeated, yet the anger that courses through his veins is a feeling he hasn't experienced in ages.

the only thing that moves him from his spot is the thought of you waiting for him below, so xiao sighs and teleports back down. you rest against the side of the cliff, back propped up against stone. xiao glances you over once more. with no visible injuries, you would likely just have a bruise, but xiao worried about internal bleeding or other injuries mortals would likely face. you were fragile, far too fragile, and xiao had nearly had you taken from him by some mindless brute. his polearm disappears from his hand as he collapses by your side.

"thank you for saving me," you wish sincerely, but xiao lets out a shaky sigh in response.

"i will take you to a doctor," xiao grunts and, before you can insist that you are fine, xiao slinks a hand underneath your knees and behind your back. he holds you close to him bridal-style and, with a flash, the two of you appear in liyue harbor.

"i can walk," you huff, but xiao simply looks down at you.

"where are we going?" the adeptus asks and you can't help but smile. for the yaksha who hates crowds and dislikes liyue harbor, he had no qualms about inserting himself in the middle of it for you. maybe you could feign an injury or two -- just for his sake.

#childe x reader #diluc x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe #diluc #xiao #genshin impact #axia's writing

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slasherarchives · 3 years

Text

Rejection; Micheal Myers.

AN: I made this around 12 AM in my room while listening to yellow by coldplay. I’m not okay.

As you closed the curtains, your mind was spinning. You needed to figure out how you were going to do this without being murdered. You knew how far Micheal’s anger would range, you knew everything about him almost. You were his safe place, the one person who he thought could understand him, and that was very rare i’ll tell you that. You let out a sigh, a very tiny one, the hot breath escaping out into the cold air which caused steam itself alone.

You then turn around, taking in the room, the rusted corners, the mold on the roof. All of this felt like home, but you knew you were never going to get anything better than this, Micheal was never going to stop. Micheal was never going to think about you or your needs and that caused a deep looming pain within your chest. Micheal was only thoughtful about his feelings, he only cared about killing and you, but only for how much you listened. He never listened to you, or so you thought.

Micheal barely spoke to you, it was always one-sided conversations. Even if you brought up how much it hurt and how it needed to be worked on, he’d just nod. He was never sorry for his mistakes, it always felt like he was using you. It always felt like he only wanted you because you listened to his pitiful stories.

You were very quickly brought to reality when you heard the front door open, you held a breath very subconsciously as the steps began to get closer to the door. You watched as it opened and you smiled falsely to him in a welcoming manner, “welcome home!” All you got in response was him turning away to take off the bloody clothes. He grabbed a new pair and left the room, your smile disappeared just as fast as he left. You’ve already saw his entire body so you never knew why he wanted to leave the room.

Maybe he just didn’t like you anymore either, that would make this a lot easier. You walk over to the door of the room he was changing in and reluctantly speak, “Can we talk in the kitchen?” You then back up slowly, you didn’t expect anything in response so you just went downstairs into the kitchen and waited. After a while of you being in your own thoughts he finally showed up, you tried to push it off and ignore the fact that you had to break up with him. You let out a breath, that breath you were holding.

“Micheal. We shouldn’t be together. You never listen to me, whenever I try to talk to you, you brush me off-” you weren’t even done talking when you saw his unmasked expression break. You have never in your life saw emotion on this poor boy’s face until now, and all you could see was pain, and some anger. You gulp as you proceed talking, “I always listen to you. When you do talk to me. Anytime we’re eating dinner you just watch me as I ramble about things. It’s like you don’t care about m-..” You’re interrupted by a hand slapped against your mouth.

You look up at him and he looks down at you, now he was angry. He stared into your eyes, simply stating his words. More of a demand, “leave.” He then pulled his hand away, his own mind was running in circles and you can only imagine what he was thinking about. Maybe how he thought he was doing the right thing, or all the mistakes he truly made. Alas, you took all your things from the room and packed them into a bag while the hot tears shed down your fragile cheeks. The ones that still had his touch lingering.

You obeyed him one last time. And you left.

Micheal only had one thing on his mind and it was you. He didn’t know what to do yet, whether to plot revenge or to let you go. You were the only person he could trust and he didn’t know what you were going to do next, he definitely wasn’t going to sleep tonight. Not without your stupid voice whenever you were in deep sleep, the dumb rambles at midnight about spongebob or some show you liked. Or without your presence in general, your touch, the way your body felt against him. The warmth.

He wasn’t going to forget you. And he hoped you wouldn’t forget him.

#micheal myers #micheal myers x reader #micheal x reader #slashers fanfiction #slashers #micheal myers fanfiction #angsty #hurt #x reader #any reader #micheal myers angst #reader leaving #breakup #breakup fic #i was listening to traitor while writing this #help #pain

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mycrofts-gunbrella · 3 years

Text

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Five)

Word Count- 3921

Morning had come around a lot quicker than you had hoped it would, the sunlight peeking through the curtains and birds singing outside making drifting back off an impossible task. Though you felt well rested, you simply just didn't want to move anywhere any time soon. Last night had begun with Mycroft shyly placing his hand on your hip as your back pressed close to his chest, but this morning had ended with Mycroft on his back and you with your head resting between his chest and shoulder, hand crossing over with fingers hooked over the pyjama's pocket. You'd never expected to be the type to wake up earlier than Mycroft Holmes, particularly not two days on the bounce, but you wouldn't complain. He looked so peaceful as he slept, the sunlight turning his auburn hair far more ginger, his freckles on his nose matching. You slowly reached one arm backwards, blindly feeling around for your phone on the bedside table and reading through your messages. You grinned seeing a text from Greg and had to fight the small laugh that threatened to escape you.

'Hey, just thought I'd check in on you both and see how you're getting on. I hate to feel pushy but we do really need to start that paperwork, today ideally. Figured I'd pop round later if it's alright- I need a sodding nap first though. Spent the majority of last night receiving phone calls about mysterious activity around St James', load of dodgy cars sending people away, loads of papers.. don't suppose you saw any of that down your way did you, makes life easier?"

Your fingers typed a response- 'Uhh..guilty as charged.. Myc was in jeans and a Who top, daren't be seen by the public..I'll get him to fix it when he's up x'- a grin playing on your face. Yeah okay you felt a little bad, but Greg had dealt with worse. After pressing send, you scrolled further through your notifications, spotting one from John. Nothing major, just checking in and inviting you both over for late lunch, mentioning briefly how it'll do Sherlock some good seeing his brother, even if he doesn't believe it himself- evidently also receiving a message from Greg as he also explained how it would make Lestrade have to do one less visit for paperwork if you popped over a little earlier. Before you could type an answer, you felt Mycroft shift beneath you, stretching out the arm that wasn't trapped beneath your body.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty." You teased, turning your head and placing a small kiss on the Holmes' chin. Mycroft blinked, rubbing his eyes and offering you a 'good morning' in response as he eyed up you typing on your phone.

"Needed to be whisked away to catch a criminal mastermind already?" He asked, sitting up a little as you moved to give him a little more space, his arm still loosely tucked behind your back, though his torso now free.

"Your deductions in the morning are lacking.. though close. Mastermind, but not criminal. John and Sherlock have invited us to late lunch, Greg's popping over to start the first part of paperwork handling, only the basic stuff this time round, so figured it would make it easier on him only having to go to one home before we left." Mycroft breathed deeply, fingers raising to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"I think I'd have rathered the criminal." He spoke, already mentally planning the afternoon, the conversations he would likely have, the way Sherlock would behave. What if he still hadn't forgiven him? It was surprising enough that you had let him off so easily, but Sherlock was different. Sherlock was a Holmes, and someone of whom already had feudal tendencies with Mycroft, it was bound to end terribly. As though you had read his mind, you moved your hand to take his from his face as you noticed his fingertips whitening as he pinched harder.

"Hey, it'll be fine. He doesn't blame you, he's been far too silent for that to be the case. From the way John sounded, it actually seemed more like he was worried about you, though you know he'd never admit that." Mycroft hummed in response, not being able to find the right words to say before reaching over and grabbing his own mobile. "World ending yet?"

"Not yet. Though with any luck, quarrels could happen before lunch." He mused, one side of his mouth raising slightly in a playful smirk.

"Mycroft you can't wish for conflicts amongst empires to get out of a meal with your brother."

"Can't I?" He raised a brow.

"Anthea wouldn't allow it anyway. We're on strict instruction to not go into work for the next couple of weeks, nations be damned. Lunch sounds far more appealing too." You slid yourself out of bed and grabbed one of the bags from Anthea that you brought upstairs last night, taking a handful of clothing items and tucking them under your arm.

"But it isn't lunch, is it? It's LATE Lunch, settled approximately around 3pm, too late for lunch, too early for dinner. It's impractical by any means; you starve yourself at real lunch so you do not ruin your appetite, and then by dinner time you're hungry once again. And if you eat at both of those times as well as the late lunch, your feeding schedules become on par with a bloody Hobbit." You rolled your eyes and headed to the bathroom. "Though you may be more accustomed to such choices given the height similarity between yourself and Mr Brandybuck."

"Cheeky sod, not all of us have glorious Holmesian legs. I'm sure you'll survive a few hours.. Oh, you also owe Greg an apology." You chuckled, opening the message back up and tossing your phone in the general direction of Mycroft's lap before going to get dressed. After reading the message, you heard Mycroft let out a laugh from the other room, the rare kind that you knew made the sides of his eyes crease and his head tip back slightly in amusement; you were sorry you missed it.

Leaving the bathroom, you couldn't help but notice the silk pyjama clad man standing mindlessly in front of his open wardrobe, glancing over each individual item of clothing. Wandering behind him, you moved up on your tiptoes and peered over his shoulder at the rows of suits. You were still dressed relatively comfortably in a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt, which you felt was appropriate for the later meal that would likely be somewhere like Angelo's- but you equally knew that Mycroft's idea of 'comfort' lay within his three pieces, pocket squares and oxfords.

"Don't panic, I'm not going to begrudge you of your precious suits today. You deserve it after actually going through with my wardrobe choice for you.. I didn't actually expect you to do it." You laughed, squeezing his shoulder fondly. "We slept in late again, there's barely any morning left." You commented, glancing over at the clock that read 10:53am. "Can I tempt you in Elevenses, Mr Baggins?" You grinned, your Lord of the Rings reference not being missed by Mycroft. He cast you a playful glare, fighting the urge to childishly poke his two fingers up at you. "What? Not judging my bedside manner this time?"

"It is useless to meet revenge with revenge; it solves nothing." He quoted Frodo without hesitation, bastard probably already planned that you'd quip back with something smart and already armed himself with Shire related comebacks. You, in contrast to Mycroft, did have the tendencies to become childish and did opt for the two fingered response, an adoring smile unnaturally paired.

Not many people got to know of Mycroft's little nerdy side, and you took pride in being one of the few that did, though you took more pride in him for being able to easily reel off the quotes. Though he had told you before that The Lord of the Rings trilogy had been his favourite of everything you made him watch, then when he read the books? You wouldn't hear from him for hours at a time while he binge read through them for the tenth time round, and of course you had noticed the varying editions of the three books on his bookshelf in his personal office, rather than lining the shelves in his small library room. If anything, it just made him more endearing.

Though it was nothing compared with his love of Doctor Who. Bless his heart, you had taken him to watch David Tennant's Richard II a few years ago for his birthday and he was insistent on waiting behind after the performance to catch David leaving and got him to sign his special edition box set of his DW seasons. He even had a photo taken with him, his expression being easily comparable to the likes of a child who just got a puppy for Christmas- and, much to his dismay, the photograph had had a prime place on your desk at NSY since the event.

You made your way downstairs, calling out something about making omelettes and leaving Mycroft alone to get ready. His fingers skimmed across the expensive fabrics, tugging out an olive green suit and red tie and pocket square to match. The smell of the food you were preparing began to fill his nose, making his stomach growl as he rushed to the bathroom to get dressed. After removing his pyjama top, Mycroft caught a glance of himself in the mirror, prodding at the pudge of his stomach that settled just over his pyjama bottoms, before sucking in flat and looking again. Maybe he should forego the omelette and just wait until later.. another growl.. okay maybe just a little, just so he didn't raise suspicion. He sighed, stomach relaxing back to its natural state before finishing his morning routine, tugging his trousers up a little higher than usual to tuck away the offending belly fat.

Mycroft had always suffered with his weight, he knew that. He also knew of his past, how he would skip meals, or spend hours upon hours on his treadmill, or the time he was under Doctor Chinnery for just shy of three years following his habits of completing his meals with his fingers down the back of his throat over the toilet just after his job promotions exceeded and he found himself in much higher rankings- public appearance being far more important than any personal preference. Though his eating disorder had improved, the years of therapy didn't miraculously improve his self-confidence. It was one of the many reasons he preferred inviting others for dinners, or at the very least having his days to himself when he knew he would be going out later in the evening. Spontaneous meals out like the one he would be attending in a few hours, or having somebody at home with him while he waited for said meals threw him off balance completely- his usual routine of fasting beforehand as to not appear rude or raise suspicions when he ate in public being disturbed significantly. You knew of his past, deduced it, actually, and had been nothing but supportive, trying your best to convince him for years that he was perfectly healthy and encouraging him to eat better, to actually consume meals. He was thankful, of course he was, but it didn't help his insecurities around you, no matter how welcoming you had been or however many compliments you gave him. His body was covered in stretch marks and areas of loose skin from his weight loss over the years, his chest hair, though scarce, was a coppery ginger and his body was covered in so many freckles he looked like an explosion at a dot to dot factory. It led him to remember the other reason why he had never previously attempted to pursue a relationship with you; if he was disgusted and horrified at the appearance of his nude body then what on earth would you think when that time eventually came around? He daren't even try to imagine your face. You'd worked with Sherlock long enough to have seen him wander around naked and Mycroft had to admit that his brother at least had a body worth parading about in the nude, then there was Gregory who, despite not having an exactly chiseled body, still had the rugged good looks and toned chest- a physique that clearly represented the physical aspects of his occupation- there was no doubt you'd compare him to them and he would come up short every time.

"Myc? You gonna be long? Yours is going to be freezing!" Your voice had knocked him out of his thoughts and he quickly shrugged on the rest of his clothes, straightening his tie in the mirror and plastering on a small smile as he headed downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Apologies.. the cufflinks failed in succession to cooperate at first." You had eyed him suspiciously, knowing that Mycroft had worn enough suits in his lifetime that he could probably find a way to put one on to completion in 5 minutes in the dark with oven mitts on.

"I know I've been so against the suits, but I have to admit that you look incredible.. I think that one's my new favourite." You commented casually, placing a quick kiss to his temple as he sat at the table. "That colour is lovely." He quirked a brow.

"New favourite? You've had old ones?"

"Obviously." Imitating Sherlock. "Charcoal pinstripe with that light blue shirt- brings your eyes out wonderfully... and your bum." You winked, positively enjoying the pink that dusted the man's cheeks, and the way he would open his mouth to speak and then close it before any words came out. In his defence, he was really not used to receiving such compliments. And in your defence, you weren't particularly used to giving them, not like that anyway. You'd blame Greg, he was a terrible influence and an incredible flirt- using his charm to at the very least try and make you laugh when you had shitty days.

You lay his plate in front of him, a coffee to its side, before beginning to tuck into your own meal. You had learned early on that if you didn't wait until Mycroft was able to eat then he likely wouldn't eat at all. While drinking his coffee fairly happily, you hadn't missed that the vast majority of Mycroft's breakfast was still on the plate, cut in smaller pieces and rearranged to appear as though he had eaten more than he truly had. Frowning, you didn't press- knowing better than to point out his behaviour and just being thankful he had eaten anything at all (about a third of the omelette and half a slice of toast if your judgements were correct) but had elected to keep an eye on him. You finished your own food in silence before crossing the cutlery over on your plate and beginning to speak.

"I figured if we left now we could have a bit of time for you to go through the first set of paperwork, Greg should be getting there in the next 10 minutes or so, and then by the time we finish and have a cup of tea it'll be time to go out." You suggested, taking Mycroft's plate to clear away after he had sent a nod to show he was finished. He made a small groan at the need to go at all, but soon acquiesced, sent a text for a car and stood to go to the front door. Tugging on a hoodie, you opened the door and took a step back, the wind shooting in your face and making you scowl. Mycroft made an amused sound and offered you the scarf of his that you had worn last night. Rather than taking the garment, you stood and waited for him to wrap it the same expert way that he had the night before. "I also text Greg to run by my flat and grab my coat so I'll be able to stop stealing your expensive scarves soon.. though this one feels so lovely I may text him again to leave it on the tube." You laughed, stepping back outside once again and walking with Mycroft to the end of the road where a car was waiting. Mycroft had wanted to respond, to make a comment about how he didn't mind letting you wear his things, how he actually quite liked it. But he stayed silent, offering a small smile instead and a soft hand at the small of your back. Mycroft opened the door for you, climbing in after and settling against the plush seats of the lavish car.

As the car began to move you tensed a little, a thought popping into your head.

"Myc.. does Sherlock know yet? About us? I might have hinted at it a little when I spoke to Lestrade earlier but I didn't press.. I just.. I didn't know if you were telling people." You asked awkwardly. Christ it made it sound like you were in some forbidden relationship. Mycroft's jaw clenched a little.

"I wasn't aware it was secret knowledge, if that's what you are asking Y/N. In response to your question, no. I haven't spoken to Sherlock at all since.." He trailed. "And I am not the sort of man to walk into a room and actively announce that kind of thing. But you should know that he will likely deduce it the moment we walk through the door being as you are wearing my clothing, your hair smells like my shampoo and your skin still has traces of the scent of my soap. So if you didn't want anybody to know, then I strongly suggest we rearrange our plans for this afternoon." Who was he kidding? Of course you didn't want people to know that you were actually together now- you would look ridiculous being such a pretty young woman with a man like Mycroft in tow. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off. "If you are going to say you could argue the soaps then it would simply be futile, he knows I have your regular brand at your disposal; he'd know you used mine in the form of... sentiment." The last word felt wrong on his tongue now, knowing you had hoped to keep your.. relationship.. behind closed doors. Mycroft Holmes was a very private man, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't want knowledge of your relationship to be at least semi-public, having felt a little giddy when you'd chosen to cross that line with him.

"What? No, I wasn't going to talk about the sodding shampoo." You grinned, reaching a hand over to place on his knee. "Jesus Myc, I asked because I didn't know if YOU were comfortable with people knowing. I'm pretty sure everyone inside that flat knew I fancied you the last few years, I'd proudly walk in and show that my pining eventually paid off. I just know you have appearances to keep up and I didn't want to ruin that, or embarrass you in front of Sherlock." For what seemed like the millionth time in the last few days, your words surprised Mycroft. He felt his jaw loosen and he took a breath, moving only to briefly place his hand over yours for a small squeeze and moving back again. You didn't expect him to say much, he was Mycroft Holmes, not Romeo Montague, but the small smile you sent back his way let him know that you understood his thoughts. The drive to Baker Street was only 10 or so minutes from Mycroft's home so you soon arrived in no time at all, the slick black car smoothly pulling up outside number 221.

"I can only hope my dear brother deduces our relationship correctly and doesn't make a vast attempt to embarrass me in front of his peers.. again." Mycroft knocked on the door, his words casting you back to a Christmas you had all shared a couple years ago.

It was a small gathering, consisting of the pair of you, the Baker Street boys, Greg and Mrs Hudson, and a few weeks beforehand, after multiple arguments of whether or not presents should be shared, Mrs Hudson had come up with the wonderful (terrible) idea of secret Santa which, incase you wasn't aware, isn't a fun game when played with two Holmes' that knew everybody's present and Secret Santa before the packages were opened. You had pulled Mrs Hudson and couldn't have been more thrilled, neither could she when she opened her new tea set- a simple floral design decorated its sides, but she was thankful no matter the pattern, the last teapot having been found at the hands of Sherlock housing human eyes. Conveniently enough, Mycroft had pulled your name and elected to subtly buy you a personalised travel mug for work. After you had opened it, Sherlock had scoffed, muttering something along the lines of "Mycroft isn't that shit at buying presents. He bought you a necklace at first but felt too embarrassed to give it to you in such a public setting and panic bought that cup." Continuing on about how Mycroft had put a lot of thought into your original gift and how it was unusual and how it "obviously" meant he favoured you and was attracted to you. Mycroft had left shortly after that, not making eye contact with any of the silent people in the room and climbed into the back of his car, but you had followed suit and clambered in after him- easing the tension by ignoring Sherlock's allegations and giving him the envelope that you had in your pocket. You had told him you had bought him something special anyway, even though he wasn't who you were supposed to buy for, because you cared for and appreciated him- he had opened the envelope slowly and his eyes widened, that rare smile appearing on his face when he was presented with the Richard II tickets. After your exchange Mycroft had given you the necklace anyway, spouting derogatives about his brother's deductions as he did so. It was a small silver chain necklace with a sparkling silver pendant that, upon closer inspection, you had noticed was a police badge.

You smiled fondly at the memory and instinctively placed your hand above your sternum, feeling the small piece of metal beneath your clothing that you hadn't taken off in two years. You turned to face the man beside you a little more, placing a hand on his shoulder and reaching up on your tiptoes to place a lingering kiss on his lips, moving back only when you heard the latch unlock in front of you, and noticing the ever so slight pink tinge to Mycroft's bottom lip from the lip balm you had put on earlier. "That should make it easier to get it right." You commented, fighting the small grin from your face as you noticed Mycroft standing in the same way, lips parted slightly from where your own had been moments ago, a matching pink dusting his cheekbones. The door opened revealing a smug looking Sherlock.

"Be careful Mycroft, you'll catch flies like that if you aren't cautious enough."

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absolutelyfizzing · 3 years

Text

potions class confessions (james potter x reader)

description - Reader is a potions natural and she gets paired up with James in class. While trying to make conversation they both let it slip that they might have a crush on each other. oops?

word count - about 1800

warning - Fluff!! avoidance and awkwardness, James being maybe a little shy ooc. Reader is a badass. House not specified but non Gryffindor is implied. Some negative self talk. There is also wolfstar!

MASTERLIST

Potions was by far your favorite class. The professor loved you and you had it with Gryffindor. This meant that you got to see him. James Potter. The golden boy of his year. You knew he was probably out of your league but you were pretty badass as well if you did say so yourself. You had top marks and were the seeker of Y/H. You were also widely liked, even though you weren't as loud or outspoken as the troublesome group of four in Gryffindor house. Your attention was drawn to your professor when he began to call out partners for the next couple weeks of the course. Your heart nearly stopped when he said you would be partners with none other than James Potter. Your heart picked up speed. You had a crush on the boy but you knew he was deeply infatuated with the beautiful Lily Evans of his own house. You knew better than to try to compete.

You looked over to where he sat with his friends and they were all giving him looks and shoving his shoulders. You thought they might be making fun of him for having to be partnered with you. You felt heat rise to your cheeks. He looked over and you made eye contact. Both of you looked away as quickly as possible and your cheeks darkened in color.

By the middle of class you had all migrated into your potion pairs and your assignment was to make a very simple healing potion that you could make in your sleep. It was more for practice than anything else. You hadn't spoken a word to James and he seemed unusually quiet. You had a suspicion that he didn't like you. He got pretty quiet whenever you were around and he sometimes would even leave the room when you entered. You didn't know why he didn't like you but you pressed on. And your crush persisted nonetheless.

"Quit staring at me, you're making me nervous." You mumbled as you began pouring in ingredients but you could feel his gaze on the side of your head.

You didn't look up when you heard him mutter a small, "Sorry." It was a short response and your heart sped up a bit at even the sound of his voice. Oh you were whipped and he wouldn't even talk to you.

"Do you wanna do this next part? You should participate if you want full marks on the assignment but I can keep going if you want me to." You offered, finally looking up at him. He was taller than you but his eyes were piercing. You held the spoon out a bit for him to take if he wanted and he smiled a bit at you before grabbing it. His hand brushing against yours had your heart fluttering and you thought you might just throw up. You both stared at the potion as James began to stir and he counted his rotations. When he got to 20 you threw something else in and he began to stir again, counting to 20 again. It was a bit tedious and ridiculously quiet.

"So, are you looking forward to the match tomorrow?" you tried to find a common discussion topic. He smiled a bit and took the spoon out of the cauldron. You looked to the clock and began the countdown of 5 minutes for the potion to sit before the next step.

"I'm very much looking forward to it. We are for sure gonna beat Y/H" he looked over at you slyly. You gasped dramatically.

"How dare you! I will have you know that I have caught the snitch in every match this year but one and that was because your beater hit me early in the game. I will be beating you tomorrow." You smirked. He looked at you with amusement in his eyes and he giggled a bit. He wasn't nearly as cocky alone as he was in large crowds.

"You're probably right. Our seeker is a bloody dud and it's unfair that we have to deal with him while Y/H has you, you're the best seeker Hogwarts has had in 50 years." He smiled at you, his volume matching yours, louder than your previous murmurs. You blushed under his gaze and under the praise that you hadn't expected. You thought he would tease you back instead of showering you with compliments.

"Flattery wont make me go easier on you, Potter. I'm still going to beat Gryffindor." you smiled., trying to bring the teasing back before the conversation got too serious and you revealed something you weren't supposed to. His eyes sparked at you and he smiled for a second longer before breaking your eye contact and chuckling.

"It was worth a try." He grinned, "You know, Remus was jealous I got to be your potions partner cause you're such a genius in potions and he's got to deal with stumble-y over there. " he nodded over to where you could see Remus trying to corral Sirius away from their cauldron as Sirius was a bit notorious for dropping things that happened to cause explosions. You laughed and blushed at the compliment.

"You do just fine on your own but thank you." You tried to calm your heart rate a bit. "Are they dating?" you questioned genuinely, still gazing at the duo across the room. You had seen them in the halls standing a bit close for friends and you thought you saw them holding hands once. James smiled like he was remembering something fondly and shakes his head.

"Not yet." he said simply. You quirked an eyebrow at him questioningly. "They've both got massive crushes on each other but refuse to see it. They'll figure it out eventually but for now its just endless flirting and it is downright exhausting." He said but all with a smile on his face, never an ounce of annoyance in his voice. "Have you had anyone catch your eye yet? I cant believe you aren't dating anyone." He continued to make conversation.

"I've thought about a few guys but the ones I like aren't the ones that like me." You tried to say lightly, avoiding eye contact with James. "But thats no big deal, I've got bigger things to worry about than who wants to take me to Hogsmeade next weekend or who's going to pick me up on the quidditch pitch when I've won that match tomorrow." You joked but James didn't really laugh.

"I want to." He looked at you before the timer you had set went off. Before you could say anything he started asking questions about what was next and you quickly threw the right ingredient in and stirred it three times. You raised your hand to call the professor over and while you were explaining your work you could feel James fidgeting behind you. The professor told you to sit tight the rest of class as you had finished early and you nodded at him before turning back to James.

"Are you pranking me or something?" You questioned lightly, already slightly upset that he would joke about something that you didn't want to joke about. You saw him look up into your eyes and furrow his eyebrows at you.

"No I'm not pranking you, why would you ask me that?" he asked, concern filled his voice. You looked down again and felt your heart pick up, your eyes stinging.

"Its just that I know that you have a think for Evans and I didn't know if you were kidding a second ago." you relied honestly. You felt a hand on yours before your pinkie was linked with his.

"I'm not pranking you. And I don't actually like Evans. I mean she's one of my best friends but me being in love with her was a rumor Sirius started as revenge for me telling Remus he liked him. I've.." He sighed a bit, "I've had a crush on you for a few years now actually." he looked sad. You moved so you were fully holding his hand and you squeezed.

"Look, if you're serious then I would love to go to Hogsmeade with you, I've liked you for a significant amount of time, I just don't want you to feel like you have to cause you pity me or something." you mumbled the last part. James looked at you inquisitively.

"Why would I pity you? As I've said you're the best seeker I've ever seen at Hogwarts and you can properly kick my ass in any class we happen to be in. And I promise I'm only half trying to get you to go easy on the match tomorrow." you smiled at the end and you chuckled a bit.

"Okay then, will you go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?" You questioned, a bit more sure of yourself.

"Of course I will. I was also hoping I could steal a tie or two so I can properly represent when i'm at your matches. When you aren't actively crushing my team, that is." he smiled and your heart soared.

"I guess we will have to make a trade." you smiled and as soon as class let out you walked hand in hand into the corridor.

"Finally! Took you long enough, mate." you heard the voice of the raven haired boy behind you as he stood rather close to his not-yet-boyfriend. He pushed James a bit in the shoulder and held his hand out to Remus. Remus sighed and handed him a galleon.

"You couldn't have waited to make it official until the Hogsmeade trip? You've just cost me a galleon." he teased and you both laughed a bit.

"You should have let me in on the bet before hand and I could have kept it professional for another week." you smiled and James pushed you a bit from the side and you all laughed.

You looked over at him and his smile was so wide it made his eyes nearly close. You took a deep breath as you finished laughing and you started to pull him toward the dining hall where you were planning on getting dinner. His hand left yours and instead snaked up to you head so he could push your hair to press a kiss to the side of your head and you blushed deeply. You couldn’t have cared less when you heard a gagging sound behind you from the best friends of the man you hoped to be with for a longtime.

#james x reader #james potter #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagine #hp imagine #hp fluff #fluff #imagine #james imagine #wolfstar #the marauders #marauders x reader #marauders imagine

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celamoon · 3 years

Text

Warnings: Beheading, love at first sight

Pronouns: She/her

Summary: The royal life is full of tricks, strings and flaws from ages ago, but there are still some strings that even the highest of nobles can't reach. Emperor Kusuo and Princess Y/n knew that better than anyone.

Saiki Kusuo was what many people would define as, a textbook king. He was prim, proper, and he didn’t talk to his subjects much, only listening to the messenger’s reports on what the people wanted. He was an emperor, but he felt much more like a king than anything else.

It wasn’t like Kusuo particularly wanted to be a textbook king, it was just that rumours go around quickly in the nobility and then to the commonfolk. He wasn’t allowed to leave the castle since he had psychic powers, and it was thanks to the same psychic powers that he had accidentally destroyed another empire in battle.

But it was also thanks to the same psychic powers that the actual heir to the throne ran away to start his own empire. His older brother swore that he would ‘out-king Kusuo’ and come back for revenge one day. The two kingdoms now rest in peace because of a treaty, and Kuusuke doesn’t do much other than manage his own affairs.

Kusuo’s parents had disappeared under mysterious circumstances years before any of this madness had occurred. He was crowned king a year ago, despite not having a queen by his side. His grandparents didn’t live long enough for them to see grandchildren, but they didn’t worry. The priest said that Kusuo would find himself a queen in no time.

No time became two years, and soon, the royal advisors were nagging at him to get himself a queen. They had even brought up the idea to have the king call in commoners to date, but Kusuo wanted none of that.

Then came princess Kokomi. Princess of Gardenia, the embodiment of perfection itself. Kusuo had taken one peek at her thoughts before he decided that he wouldn’t date her. Her kingdom would’ve gone to war over this, so the king agreed that he would open up applications, and that anyone who wished to become queen could submit an application. They would get one meeting with the king before a yes or a no was chosen.

News of this spread to other kingdoms, and soon, news of this reached the Sirius Kingdom. Among the listeners was the infamous princess Y/n. Though not as gorgeous as the princess of Gardenia, she was still an enigma. The title of princess was placed upon her head since a young age, and she was a princess of the people. The girl who listened to whatever complaint was placed.

“Good Morning Princess Y/n!”

“Good morning Princess!”

“Good morning Sato-san! Good morning to you too Suzumiya-san!”

“How’s the castle life so far Princess Y/n?”

“It’s been alright. I’m still trying to get mother and father to listen to the requests. I do hope that you are doing well today?”

Y/n was charismatic to the people, despised by the nobles. To them, royalty and the working class should not intermingle, and the nobles were noble because God had chosen them to be. Not because of the lies and tricks behind the curtains of perfection. Y/n had learned from a young age that perfection was not real, and that flaws were just hidden by money and wealth instead.

Perfection meant marrying a royal, and with the news of King Saiki searching for a queen, Y/n’s parents were quick to sign her up for it. It resulted in a rather large strain the family relationship, but no outsider needed to know that. The facade put up was for the public to see, and the royals to uphold.

“You’re selling me off!” Y/n screamed one particular evening at dinner.

“We are in no way selling you off. We are simply sending you to the Psi empire to see if they would accept you.” Her father booms. “Stop putting words in my mouth,”

“You are selling me off.” Y/n glares. “I don’t wish to marry a textbook king! If I’m marrying a man then I’m going to do everything at my own pace. I am no queen who will sit around while my people’s requests and complaints are ignored by the nobility and royals.”

“Y/n darling-“ Her mother tries.

“You have one month.” The king bellows. Y/n pulls on her gown and leaves the room. The outfit is quickly ditched in her room as she wanders through the passageways of the castle. She meets the exit soon, and she rushes outside, wiping off any traces of her royal blood. She runs, and ignores all the greetings as she reaches for the flower field in the outskirts. The field was behind a noble bar surprisingly enough, and information was always passed there. The girl messes up her hair and leans against the back door to the bar.

“Miss f/n,” The bartender nods, locking the door behind him. “The nobles wish to overthrow the royal family by marrying one of the noblewomen over to the Gardenia Empire,”

“Ah?” Y/n looked up from the ground. “Which noblewoman?”

“I believe they wish to marry over Madam Hinata to Prince Makoto,” the bartender nods.

“When do they start negotiating?” Y/n looks up.

“I believe they start tomorrow,”

“Alright, thank you kind sir,” She hands the bartender a bag of gold and wanders off. Even if she wanted to hate her parents, she was still their daughter. She may hate the castle, but it was her home, and she was taught to protect what mattered to her.

“Mizuki-chan grab me a horse from the palace, I want to leave this wretched place as soon as possible.” Y/n calls for her servant when she gets the animal, she hands the servant a letter.

“No one other than mother and father is to see this letter,” You slip her the letter, and then you’re gone.

The night breeze feels good on your skin. It feels like freedom, running away from your past, embracing your future. Y/n feels free, but her goal isn’t to run away, it’s to protect what was hers and to protect what will be the royal lineage’s. She had siblings, people, and a country in a corrupt noble’s hands was no better than a fragmented one.

The gates to the Psi Empire are huge. Y/n goes through several checks before she’s let in, and she continues riding until it’s early morning. She’s exhausted, but she isn’t allowed to rest until she arrives at the palace.

The crack of dawn arrives at the Psi Palace and Kusuo arises. His day runs as usual, but he’s met with a sudden emergency guest. His advisors suggest that he ignore them to continue his job, but the person’s thoughts are too much to handle and he would rather get it over with.

“Call the person over,”

Y/n wanders into the room, lifting her cloak off of her head. “Your highness,” she bows.

“… Princess Y/n…” Kusuo raises a brow. “You may rise. What brings you here to my empire?”

“King Kusuo,” Y/n nods. “The nobles in my kingdom are planning to overthrow my family from the throne. I come here to request help in repressing them.”

“Why should I help you?” Saiki raises a brow at her figure.

“My kingdom would prove to be an excellent allegiance with yours.” Y/n held her head high. “On top of that, I could be promised to you in exchange for your help. I may end up as your queen from this exchange.”

Saiki stares at the princess. She look bold, strong, yet small and kind. Her thoughts are kind, caring, and he can tell that she has the best for the commonfolk in mind. He thinks over whether or not his empire should get involved.

“However I must be honest your highness,” She bows lightly. “The nobles wish to marry off a noblewoman to Prince Makoto of Gardenia. While I have no doubts that your kingdom would be able to hold them off, I believe that it would be extra trouble making an enemy out of a kingdom that has the fairest princess in all the land.”

“I am aware,” Saiki nods. “How urgent is this matter?”

Saiki wants to turn her down, but there’s something about the fire in her eyes and the truth in her words that draws him in. He feels slightly sick thinking about all the lives that would be lost if he sent men.

“They start negotiating with the kingdom tonight,” Y/n responds.

“Will there be lives lost?”

“I can not promise that there will be none,” She shakes her head. “But I can promise that if action is taken early enough, the nobles will be repressed with minimum bloodshed. I wish not for my people to take part in a bloody civil war.”

Her words are genuine and Saiki nods. “I understand. Do you have a messenger bird at home?”

“I do,” The princess nods. “I would prefer to pass laws onto the nobles, but they hold a much higher number in the government than I would like. My only hope would be being wed to you, or perhaps crushing them by force.”

“Becoming a tyrant?” Saiki raises a brow. “Do you not believe in any other alternative?”

“Noblemen have been in power for centuries your highness. If the root of the issue is not removed, then the weeds will still continue growing.” Y/n nods. Saiki eyes the girl once more and smirks.

“Then how about a proposal? I’ll help in exchange for you by my side for eternity.” Saiki knows you’re desperate. He admires you for thinking about the number of lives potentially lost to a civil war, and he cannot think of another way that would benefit both his empire and your kingdom.

Y/n pauses to look at the emperor. “Then Emperor Kusuo, I would like to propose that we take it slow, and that I do not be touched in any way that would make me uncomfortable,”

“Then I shall announce you as my lover.” Saiki smiles. “With the announcement, a portion of the noblemen in your kingdom would start to doubt the plan, and eventually the root of the problem would be weeded out. Do I have your permission Princess Y/n?”

Y/n looks at his challenging gaze with one of equal ambition. “Of course your highness,”

The news of Princess Y/n of Sirius dating Emperor Kusuo reaches the ears of all the kingdoms at the same time. Y/n’s parents are elated, and they welcome Emperor Kusuo with open arms. The commonfolk are in ecstasy, their beloved princess marrying an Emperor.

The news reaches the Castle of Gardenia and Princess Kokomi throws a tantrum.

“How come the emperor didn’t decide upon me? I’m the perfect princess, and I’d make an even better queen!” She sobs, and her brother consoles her.

“I’m forming an alliance with the nobles in Sirius, we’ll take down the royal family and then I’ll force the emperor to submit to me and marry you,” Makoto smiles. Kokomi only sniffs and nods.

The Sirius kingdom is flourishing. Saiki and Y/n are taking it slow, but they’ve made significant progress relationship wise. The two have started going on walks, and Kusuo joined Y/n one afternoon in town. He’s surprised to find so many commoners crowd around her.

“Suzumia-san! How have you been?”

“Ah I got married recently! I’m Mrs. Sato now!”

“Sato?? That’s incredible!” You clasped your hands together and Saiki had smiled at you softly. You looked so pretty, so gentle. He could picture you as his queen.

The calm is always before the storm though. The noblewoman who was supposed marry Prince Makoto pulled on with the plan, and the two started discussing about the wedding.

“For the wedding, I would like for it to be grand. I wish for it to make a statement to the opposing empire,” The noblewoman smiles.

“Ah yes,” Prince Makoto smiled. “It shall make a statement to the other empire for sure,”

The day of the wedding is grand, there’s palace guards everywhere. Neither royal from the Psi empire make an appearance, and the noblewoman thinks she’s scared the other empire into preparing for war. The wedding itself throws the woman off guard though.

“Do you, Miss agree to the crime of treason?” There’s an evil glint in the pastor’s eyes and the Psi royal guards rush in. The family looks around in confusion.

“I applaud you for trying to take over and become queen, but unfortunately there are strings that you as a noble simply can’t pull.” Y/n walks down the aisle, wearing a pair of white trousers and a simple dress shirt. Their hair is styled, and they looked like any other palace guard.

“W-wha?”

“I applaud you for trying,” You smile. “You were mistaken to think that I wasn’t best friends with other princes and princesses,”

“Huh?!” The noblewoman looks around and both Teruhashi’s are smiling.

“I may be in love with the emperor, and my brother may despise him, but sometimes throwing innocent commonfolk into a war isn’t what we wish to do,” Teruhashi smiles.

An agreement had been reached last minute between the Kingdom of Gardenia and Sirius. Neither side would shed blood, and they would arrest the nobles and strip them of their titles. While Princess Kokomi had grown up with Princess Y/n, it was also only reasonable to not shed innocent blood. Besides, the Teruhashi’s were far relatives of the L/n’s.

“Alright now Princess Y/n, I would like to know what you’ll pay with,” Teruhashi grins playfully as she holds her hand out. She had dropped her facade in front of the princess ever since Y/n had exposed her for it.

“I’m not sure, how about I pay you with an invitation to the golden ball later this month?”

Teruhashi pretends to think before she grins. “Nope! I want your lover right there~”

Y/n gasps in shock and pretends to be offended. “I am not giving you my future husband!”

“You never know,” Kokomi grins teasingly.

The execution is the next day, the jury had unanimously decided that the nobles were committing treason thanks to Princess Teruhashi. The blood curling screams and mess created from the beheading didn’t seem to bother Princess Y/n much as she had expected it to.

The rest of the half of the month passes quickly, and soon it’s the golden ball. Y/n is in a f/c ball gown, and Saiki’s suit matches her outfit. The two spend the evening close to each other and Kusuo leaves her side for a moment.

“Your highness!” A commoner approaches her and she smiles. “Congrats on the engagement!”

“Engagement?” The princess tilts their head in confusion.

“Are you two not yet engaged?” The commoner looks confused before they gasp as they look behind her.

She hears more gasping around her. She looks around and finds her lover on the ground.

“Your highness-“

Saiki raises a brow in question at the name and Y/n corrects herself. “Kuu…”

“My darling Y/n, there would be no honour greater than to become your king and emperor. I can not think of myself with anyone else in this life, and I hope that we would last through all of our lifetimes together. From the day that I saw you, to this very second, I have never been more in love. My darling Y/n, will you marry me?”

Y/n’s eyes water and a bit of their makeup comes off. A choked out “yes” leaves their lips and Kusuo pulls the princess in for a hug. The girl feels bad for ruining her lover’s shirt but her tears don’t stop coming.

“I’ll love you for eternity,”

“As will I, your highness”

#saiki x reader #saiki k x reader #kusuo x reader #saiki kusuo #kusuo saiki #my royal aus are always so bland ngl #saiki k #the disastrous life of saiki k #saiki #ngl I kinda hated that header at first but it looks rlly cute now for no reason #saiki no psi nan

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nightowlfandom · 3 years

Text

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher x Reader- 27 (Part 2)

Hey beautiful people! SOOOO I got a comment on my last Scream imagine and they said...

ok but like a part 2 where we go picking them all off one by one and tell them what happened to (y/n) before we end them? and the revenge on the parents for it too? make them feel sorry for what they did and expose them to everyone. I mean not forcing but lightly tapping an idea

and....I AM IN LOVE...SO I GOT YOU BRAH

READ PART 1?

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Okay so you know the drill, I will let you know when to proceed with caution.

LEGGO!

... (Picking up directly after the events of part 1)

“...My parents weren’t the most loving people around.” you stared down at your fingertips. “They were overbearing...very controlling...loved to gaslight me from time to time.” you felt a lump form in your throat. “After the Hanna thing, they tried to sent me to boarding school.”

You three sat in Stu’s basement. You sat cross-legged on the floor and Stu and Billy cleaned up the dead body. Stu had given you a rag to wipe the blood off your face and hands.

“A while back before we all met...my parents weren’t too bad. Then Hanna came along and decided to ruin that for me too. She and her friends dragged me into the woods and beat me up...I was bleeding out everywhere...she told my parents I attacked her...she told them that I-..That I tried to kill her.” you shook your head. “My parents never looked at me the same...like they disowned me without saying they did.” you sniffed.

“What about the others?” Billy ceased his activities to stare at you. He was impressed how well you seemed to be taking everything.

“ Dylan leaked my friend’s nudes, Jennifer is Hanna’s slave...she was Hanna Number 2 when she couldn’t torture anyone else. Rachel....I just hate Rachel, and Cameron...is my ex.” you explained. “There are others...many others.” you seethed.

“And we’ll get to all of them.” Stu finished his job of tying Hanna’s legs together. “But first...how do you feel?”

“Like I just killed someone.” you half-joked, bringing your knees to your chest. “Why didn’t you guys tell me?”

“We didn’t want to scare you.” Billy reminded you. “We know how you are Y/N.”

“Still.” you pouted. “It would have been nice to know that you two were behind all this.” you stared at the floor. “Why didn’t you guys...y’know-”

“We wanted to...” Billy dusted himself off. “We tried...then you just had to charm us with that smile of yours.” he bit his lip as he smiled at the thought. “You just had to go and be adorable.”

There he was, standing with Stu hunched over a notebook of possible victims. They had agreed you’d be next, they really did. They had introduced themselves to you and gained your trust, but along the way, your kindness, your willingness to be so vulnerable around then...accepting them (especially Billy) for their flaws, they couldn’t...they wouldn’t.

“Can I help with anything?” you asked, standing to your feet.

“Not unless you know a place to dump this body.” Billy replied.

“There’s a lake behind Hanna’s house...” you recalled. “I saw it when my parents used to go over there for dinner.”

“Great!” Stu skipped over and took you in a hug. “So who do you wanna get first?”

“Me? You’re letting me choose?” you stared up at Stu who swore up and down you looked the most adorable you ever have, if that was even possible.

“This is your list, isn’t it?” Billy casually strode over. He tilted your chin up at him. “Just let us take care of it.”

“...Dylan first.” you concluded. “It’s for my friend...he has to go.” you asserted.

“As you wish princess.”

...(The Next Day)

You trudged away from your parent’s car, doing your usual habits of ignoring them as they saw you off. You saw Billy and Stu waiting for you on some benches. They glared behind you, obviously getting a good look of your parents.

“Hey cutie.” Stu threw himself at you, hugging you super tight. “How’d you sleep?”

“Shitty...” you mumbled. “Guess who just caught word of Hannas’s...untimely demise.”

“Serves the bitch right.” Billy flicked his middle finger at your parents as they drove off. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dylan throwing around a football with his friends. His gaze darted in your direction. He looked surprised to see you and Stu so close, so much so that he hesitated to throw the ball back to his friends. “Hey asshole, you got your turn. Hand her over.” Billy flicked Stu on the head as he pulled your out of Stu’s embrace.

“Oh you’re no fun.” Stu laughed, waving him off. Billy wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest and gingerly trailing his fingers down your back.

“Hey Y/N...”

You paused your momentary happy moment when Dylan came jogging up. You pulled away from Billy and faced your friend’s ex-boyfriend. “What?”

“Um...Hey.” he did that douche-bag hair flip. “What’s up?”

“I’m just spectacular.” you grimaced. He was really talking to you like he wasn’t the reason your only other friend switched schools. “Need something?”

“Yeah. I wanted to invite you to my party tonight.”

‘I’d rather-” you began, only to realize the mega opportunity you’d receive.

“Are your other friends coming?” you shifted all your weight to one side and pretended to absentmindedly twirl your hair.

“Um...Y-yeah.” he nodded.

“Can my friends come?” you acted oblivious and dumb, the only language he and his friends seemed to understand when it came to women.

“Sure. They can come join the fun.” he winked. “Tonight, 8:00 o’clock.”

“Splendid, you winked. I’ll be there.”

As Dylan returned to his friends, all of them laughing about the joke they thought you didn’t understand, Billy and Stu stood at your sides.

“You’re killer is showing, love.” Stu kissed the side of your head. “Easy now.” he laughed, even though he knew he was talking complete bullshit.

“I’m gonna have so much fun slitting that one’s throat.” Billy pointed to Rachel. “This is gonna be awesome.”

...(That Night)

You had managed to make it a few hours. Without completely losing your mind. Billy had taken it upon himself to put up him brooding angst-filled sadboi attitude and Stu showed up in his honorary pimp robe.

Now you all were sitting in a circle, playing stupid games.

“Y/N...truth or dare?” Jennifer called on you next, noticing how quiet you had been.

“Kiss, Fuck, Or Kill. Stu Macher, Cameron Kent, and Dylan Bayle.”

With a bored grin, you looked her right in the eye. She dared you to say you would fuck her boyfriend, little does she know...

“I guess I’d have to kiss Cameron...” you began warmly, recalling how you two used to date. Gross... “And as much as I love pissing you off...I wouldn’t touch Dylan with a ten foot pole...so I’d have sex with Stu.”

A few wolf whistles from the guy chorused around the circle as a few guys pat Stu on the back. Your eyes looked over at Stu whose cheeks were tinted pink. He shot you a smile and a quick wink.

“And you know what that leaves?...I’d kill Dylan.” you smirked, only to put on a front again. Before anyone could say anything else, you all heard a phone ring. Coincidentally, the phone was right next to you.

“Y/N, get that will you. Put it on speaker.”

“I got you.” you grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

“What number is this?”

“What number are you trying to reach?” you replied.

“I dunno...”

“Sure buddy.” you rolled your eyes as you hung up.

“Okay! Dylan!” Rachel drunkenly asked. “Truth or Dare!”

“Dare baby!” Dylan laughed.

“I dare you to go into the bedroom with Y/N and do something with her!” she laughed. “You can’t leave until you do something!”

“Did anyone ask my opinion on this?” you felt disgusted as the words left your mouth. How much longer were you gonna have to put up with this? “Stu, help me out!”

“A dare’s a dare, babe.” he laughed as he took another swig of whatever.

“Ugh!!” you grimaced as you stood up and followed Dylan. You made sure to lightly bump your shoulder against Stu’s as you walked. You two looked eyes momentarily, sharing a discrete smirk between eachother.

The door closed behind you. (PROCEED WITH CAUTION! READ MORE BELOW THE LINE BREAK)

...

You stood there, playing with your fingers as Dylan came up to you.

“You know Y/N...I’ve always liked you.”

“Oh really?” you asked shyly. “W-well why didn’t you tell me?” you half giggled half gagged.

“I couldn’t find the right words.” he reached out to touch your cheek.

Meanwhile downstairs, everyone laughed at the hidden camera footage they were watching. They couldn’t wait to post this to the school’s website.

“Oh my god!” you screamed at you pointed behind Dylan. Everyone watched as a dark hooded figure creeped up behind Dylan and grabbed him buy the back of his head, digging a knife into his shoulder. Then he charged for you, stabbing you in the stomach...slowly but surely he creeped up to the camera, looking directly at it. “Nuh uh uh~” he sang before he punched the camera, causing the signal to break.

This caused everyone to scream bloody murder and attempted to scream.

Back in the bedroom, you had managed to hear the screaming. “Can I get up now?” you rolled over. “Pretending to die is so weird.”

“Allow me.” Billy walked over and helped you to your feet, ridding himself of his Ghostface mask. “You look good covered in fake blood.”

“Do I?” you fake pouted. Billy didn’t answer and instead kissed you. He held your face in his hands, gently moving his soft lips against yours. He would have went crazy is Dylan managed to get that far. He was glad that he could finally show how he felt about you in a personal way.

“You do.” he bit his lip as he pulled away.

“W-what the fuck?!” Dylan, who was very much alive looked between you two. “You’re in on this.”

“Oh shut up!” you grabbed Billy’s knife and walked up to him. “Kyla Grayson, who is she?”

“Kyla Grayson?”

“ARE YOU AN ECHO?” you snapped. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know! I swear!” he tried to cower away from you.

“You don’t remember showing private pictures of a young impressionable freshman to your fucking friends?” you glared. “She trusted you...she liked you a lot...and because of you she had to move to a different county.” you raised the knife over your head. “Any last words?”

“SURPRISE!” Stu burst through the door, also dawning a Ghostface getup, only without the voice changer. He was dragging Jennifer and Rachel by the hair.

“You’re just in time for the show.” you said, not looking up from Dylan.

“Y/N...y-you’re-”

“Don’t talk.” you kept your eyes on Dylan. “I’ll get to you soon.”

(Part 3 will be revenge against your parents)

#slasher imagines #slasher fanfiction #imagines #slashers x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #ghostface imagines #billy x reader x stu #scream imagines #billy loomis imagines #stu macher imagines #horror imagines #poly ghostface

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shini--chan · 3 years

Note

I have an idea! What would Allies do after finding out that their s/o have (another) stalker? It can be another yandere, a creep, ex, jealous coworker with bad intentions or even a serial killer.

And a good idea it is, my dear anon.

Yandere Allies – Feindling America

You were already fast asleep, snoozing away under the covers in your shared bedroom. He, on the other hand, was still wide awake and had decided to settle down in the living room to do some light reading. His insomnia was due to the usual reasons – too much caffeine, too much stress, too much curiosity to just let the day finish.

And because he was worried, intently, about you. There was somebody else trying to stick their grubby fingers in your shared life, and pry you apart. That was something he was absolutely sure off. After living so long, and becoming paranoid due to his position on the global stage, he knew very well when he was being watched.

There was something after you in particular, he didn’t like it.

Out of his peripheral vision, he caught sight of somebody moving in the bushes. A spike of adrenaline shot through his body, and for a moment he was tempted to storm about side and give that creep a hook. Yet a better idea came to mind – first to fire a warning shot.

He net his book aside and sauntered to one of the glass door to the balcony and gave the pane a few sharp knocks. It was enough to catch their attention. It was almost comical how the figure froze, and the hood swivelled in his direction. Alfred couldn’t identify them in any capacity – they wore non-script jeans and a grey hoodie along with a pair of gloves. But this was about digging up the war axe.

Grinning, he flipped the bird at them, and then proceeded to draw a thin line across his throat in an unmistakable message.

Alfred would see this as a chance to play hero. He would finally be able to prove to you how capable he is at protecting you, how attentive he would be when it would water down to your safety. Of course, he would make sure there would be a lot he wouldn’t catch wind off – it would be the instances where he would come off as an evil master mind or as a control freak that he would skilfully hide from you.

He might or might not elect to torture the fool that would be stalking you. For him, waterboarding that creep would be a method of stress relief. It would also drive home the point that nobody should dare try to get between him and his sweetie.

Canada

Besides you, your phone beeped for what must have been the twelfth time in the span of one minute. You sobbed harder and buried your face in his chest. Matthew calmly stroked your back, making quiet soothing noises as he held you close.

“(Ex) will have to leave you be someday. This can’t go on forever. One day that jerk will have to accept that you’re gone for good”, he told quietly, while cautiously shifting his position to a more comfortable one.

You were both on the backseat of his car, having sought sanctuary there after you started panicking upon seeing the messages. All the memories had started to overwhelm you, and you had gripped his arm as if it was the only thing that was preventing you from drowning.

“No, that won’t be the case. Before I met you, I tried to leave so often only to be lured back into it. It was only because I met you that I haven’t gone back”, you cried, gazing up at him with a tear-stricken face.

“Shh, I will think of something. There shall be hell to pay.”

Matthew would be concerned about your wellbeing first and foremost. He would cater to you, cuddle with you, sooth you. But don’t think that would mean he would go easy on you should you step out of line and try to flee from him. When he would say he would never let your ex take you back, he would be indirectly saying he would never allow you to leave him.

Naturally, he would be careful and avoid any explicit rhetoric stating that your place in the world is at his side, but the message would be there, hidden between the lines.

With the legal sway he would hold, he would easily have your ex punished in some capacity. This could range from a fine to a restrain order to spending some time in jail.

China

A scream pierced the silence of the night, followed by a yell as the attacker was swept off his feet. Yao didn’t hesitate to continue beating the culprit up, even though he was on the ground.

After all, this was a man that had just been a few milliseconds away from dragging you away and murdering you, after doing unspeakable things to you, things that couldn’t be lightly talked about in any context.

“So, you’re the vermin that has been butchering people left and right for the past four months. You’re just as disgusting as I expected”, Yao commented as he brought his foot down on his back in a harsh stamp.

You had taken seat on a tree stump that was standing by. The near death experience and the fight going on in front of you had utterly rattled you. You were numbly staring at the scene playing out, heads in your hands, whole body trembling and eyes wide blown.

He kicked the killer in the side and was rewarded was a grunt and a hiss: “And I’ll fucking kill you too.”

“Sure you will”, Yao drawled sarcastically and pressed the criminals head into the dirt. “Get used to the taste of it.”

Contrary to expectations, Yao would approach the situation of serial killer being after you calmy. Not because he wouldn’t care about you, but rather because he would be far to old to be surprised by such a – in his eyes – trivial thing. And because he would know that letting himself drown in anger or panic would just result in him making grave mistakes – ie. losing you.

Nevertheless, he would never be far off, lurking behind corners, just out of sight of you and the murderer. He would also scoure your online activity, searching for any suspicious doings from other users. Furthermore he would use the opportunity to learn more about you and your strengths and weaknesses.

England

“Ah, ah, ah. Keep your dirty paws off that”, Arthur chided Jane and firmly grabbed Jane by the ear, harshly tugging there. It wasn’t the most humane treatment of a mortal, that England knew very well. However, he was in a sour mood, your infuriating co-worker being one of the contributing factors to it. Besides, he hadn’t made it one of his life maximas to be nice.

“You dare”, she hissed. When he gave another sharp tug, she yelped and dropped your phone, showing one of your social media profiles. Jane Smithers was persistent, he would have to give her that. Yet that would just be her downfall because she had decided to use that trait to try to ruin your life.

“Oh yes I dare. I dare to not tolerate your disgusting behaviour. Between you and me, we’re going to have a very long talk about your morals.”

She snorted and grabbed his hand.

“I could sue you for sexual harassment. We’ll see if you’ll still be laughing then.”

Oh, he had expected such a threat to come from such a vile person as her. He chuckled lowly – did she really think she could best him when it came to anything.

“And then spend some time in the nick for lying to judge and jury. Don’t think you’d be able to weasel your way out of this. I’m the one here that can have your framed and believe me, I could get you a bloody life sentence.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending, before realisation dawned and she let out a harsh laugh.

“So that is how (l/n) did it. Slept the way to the top.”

“No. (Y/n) has talent, impeccable talent. So unlike you, my dearest never had to resort to the methods you were so kind to mentioned.”

Arthur would see it as his duty to protect you – your physical & mental wellbeing as well as your reputation. So of course he would go after any jealous co-worker that would try to ruin you to any extent. And as mentioned in the snippet above, he wouldn’t be exactly nice about it. Any means would do for him, as long as the risk of his machinations backfiring on him and you would be relatively low.

During the whole process, he would letting you know about everything. It would be his point of proving that the world is a horrible place and that you can only find solace in his company and attention.

France

Francis was in the kitchen when you came stumbling in, frazzled and panting as If you had just run a marathon. By the way your extremities were trembling and sweat dotted your forehead, he wouldn’t be surprised. The only question was why.

Aside from that, fear danced in your eyes, and that was the only further information he needed to know that something was wrong. Rushing forward, he scooped you in his arms, ignoring the coffee that he had been preparing, and asked you:

“What happened, ma cherie?”

Instead of answering, you leaned your head against his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his torso, taking heavy, laboured breaths, as if you were crying. That was when he realised that you were. It worried him.

Was this something that he had done? What had caused you to become so distressed? Was it something he could fix.

“You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to”, he offered shakily, unsure about what he should do to cheer you up. How could he, when he didn’t know why you were in such a state?

Thankfully, you supplied him with an explanation, one that caused his concern to freeze to ice cold anger: “There is some creep following me. He grabbed my butt when I got off the bus.”

Whoever that devil was, he was going to have hell to pay,

Francis would be enraged that somebody would be so disrespectful of your boundaries and of the fact that you’re already taken. In the brief moments of his more intense bouts of fury, he might do something as rash as to track the creep down and bludgeon him with something, probably a newspaper.

However, his preferred method would be character assassination (this would work especially well if the culprit in question would have a high social status) and verbal abuse. In this case, his revenge could be long-winded and very elaborate.

Russia

The temperature of the corridor had dropped since the last time he had visited – a testimony to the bad insulation and the approaching winter. Ivan thought it did her justice. After all, she did deserve this after nearly kidnapping you.

Speaking of her, she was sitting near the bars when he approached and when she glimpsed him, she quickly scooted away. Clever; she had learned from what had occurred the last time.

“Come to taunt me again?”, she seethed, curling into a tight, haggard ball of fury. Understandable in her case, however he wouldn’t shed any tears or have any sleepless nights.

“As is customary. I have to elevate your boredom somehow”, he confirmed, grabbing a chair and seating himself opposite her.

She stared at the door at the end of the passage, hungerly tracing it and searching the shadows for any sign of you. Ivan derived pleasure from mocking her: “How foolish are to think I would have brought my lover with me? I didn’t the last few times so why should it any different now?”

“You’re so very attached to (y/n), so I had my hopes.”

“Then I’ll have to forever dash them. That I owe you.”

She snarled at this; face twisted to a nasty frown.

“You know, you and I aren’t so different. So it is even more hypocritical of you to claim the moral high ground. Does (y/n) know even half of the things you’ve done in the name of your love?”

“I detest the comparison. I walk free while you rot in solitude, unloved and unwanted. While you have done everything wrong, I have done what was right where it counted most. You go very far by suggesting anything else.”

Russia would be the one to act the most intense of all the allies. He would have had people that were dear to him ripped away from him in the past, so he invest a lot of energy in insuring that wouldn’t happen to you and him.

That would mean he would go up to 11 in this case. As in, he would either kill this person and dissolve their body in acid or feed it to the pigs. Or he would leave this other yandere to rot somewhere after having dragged them before court for a very showy trail to break their spirit.

#yandere hetalia #yandere allies #yandere america #yandere england #yandere russia #yandere canada #yandere china #yandere france

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

Text

vegas team 2.0 lets go !!

vegas team au 2.0 my beloved !!!

if you don’t know what the vegas team au 2.0 is, it’s an au that a couple of my twitter friends and i developed (notably, @stabbysideblog and @dreamsclock) as a post-canon version of sparrow’s vegas team au, which had c!dream, a post-revival c!wilbur, and c!quackity working together at las nevadas.

this au exists much in the same vein, but exists post-canon (and therefore, post torture from c!quackity) and adds c!sam to the crew - it’s essentially four really, really messed up people screwing things up in las nevadas and being completely AWFUL to each other. it’s a very messed up group dynamic, 50% angst 50% crack 0% fluff or healing (...unless ;) ) and it’s absolutely one of my favorite aus at the moment.

anyway, have this ficlet for the au i wrote a little bit ago that basically goes into how these four end up working together !!

tw: implied torture, unhealthy relationships (SO many unhealthy relationships), manipulation, threats, emotional distress, mental instability

When Sam first sees the two figures standing on top of the roof of Las Nevadas, the first thing that comes to his mind is oh no, I have a bad feeling about this.

The feeling is far from foreign; a "bad feeling" has been his life for the past week ever since Dream and Wilbur had disappeared from Pandora's Vault seemingly without a trace. He's tried to keep the knowledge under wraps, only telling Bad and Ant to send them on a manhunt to find the prisoner (a lost cause if he's ever seen one; the two have hunted Dream before, and all of them know that there is no way they're finding the man if he doesn't want to be found) while he and Quackity plan for the coming storm. And there will be a coming storm, he's sure - he's heard enough of Dream's desperate, deranged plans of revenge voiced in near incoherent screams through bubbling lava to think that he will come out of the cell with anything close to mercy in his heart.

Unfortunately, there's been little to nothing from the pair of fugitives running around the server, his communicator chat still buzzing with Tommy's usual shouting and Puffy's usual invitations to tea and Technoblade's usual cryptic "technoblade" messages sporadically throughout the day. It's frustratingly, maddeningly normal, and each day of waiting for the other shoe to drop only leaves him even closer to snapping completely. In a twisted, bitter sort of way, he's almost relieved at the sight of the people standing on the polished quartz roof of the casino; at least now he'll finally get some answers.

Next to him, Quackity narrows his eyes. "Nobody should know about this place," he says, lips twisting into a tight frown.

Sam shrugs, shoulders heavy and tense under netherite. "Do you think-"

"-that it's our dynamic fuckin' duo? Yeah," he breathes out, short and quick through his teeth, and his wings stretch and flutter behind him, "I think it might be."

The figures become clearer as they step closer, silhouettes dark and thrown into harsh relief against the backlighting of the sun behind them. One of them is definitely wearing armor - netherite, from the looks of it - and both are very clearly armed. Wonderful.

The taller turns towards them, gestures with a wide sweep of their arm. "Big Q!"

Sam jumps at the voice; Quackity smiles humorlessly. "Wilbur."

Wilbur turns towards the other figure - Dream, for sure then - and they seem to talk, though they are far too far away for Sam to make out anything they say. Dream seems to hand something to Wilbur, and seconds later twin dots of bluish-green arc smoothly towards the ground in front of Sam's feet. He steps back, watching from the corner of his eye as Quackity does the same, and sure enough Wilbur, and then Dream, land on the grass where their enderpearls hit the ground.

"It's been a long time, Big Q, Sam," Wilbur smiles, tight-lipped, confident, tipping his head at each of them as he says their names. He's not wearing any armor save for a crossbow - enchanted - slung loosely over his hip and a netherite sword hanging off of his belt. "How have things been?"

"Cut the crap, Wilbur." The smile stays on Quackity's face, but his eye is dark and cold and dangerous. He's changed - of course he has, you can't do what he's done in Pandora without changing, but the sight of his expression still sends a disturbed shiver down Sam's spine. "You want something."

Wilbur, to his credit, doesn't seem fazed at all. "We've been doing pretty well - I think we've made quite some progress, considering how little time it's been since we've escaped that prison - nice build, by the way, Sam." His voice is lilting, almost sincere, and he looks over at Sam with a laughing light in his eyes like they're sharing an inside joke. "It's really quite impressive - what do you think, Dream?"

Dream doesn't seem to respond; he's all decked out again, netherite covering him from head to toe, the enchanted metal plates completely dwarfing the man hidden within them. His hands clutch at a golden apple, knuckles white against the golden skin, and a plain shield is strapped over his left arm as well a hulking enchanted axe on his back. They've been busy, it seems, and Sam's teeth grind against each other; he's not sure, if it comes down to it, that this is a fight that he and Quackity can win.

"Wilbur," Quackity repeats, impatience creeping into his tone, "What do you want?"

Wilbur smiles wider; it makes Sam uneasy, like Wilbur had been waiting for this, waiting for their desperation to send them at the devil's table with paper in one hand and a pen in the other.

"You're a businessman, aren't you, Big Q? You know how business deals work - so let's talk business. I think we can come up with something agreeable, what do you think?"

Quackity huffs a short laugh- "And what's stopping me and Sam from putting a sword through your gut?"

Wilbur smiles, sharp-edged. "Well, Big Q. Resurrection magic- it's quite interesting, really. Dream was explaining it to me, you know. And here's the thing; how many lives do you think I have right now?"

What- oh. "You have all of your lives back."

"Oh, no, Sam, I'm not saying that, exactly," Wilbur waves his hand flippantly, "I'm just saying you don't know, you know? And if I were to- say, have more than one life, and you were to kill me, well," he shrugs, a thoughtful look on his face. "We were smart enough to set our beds far away from the prison, of course. It would be an awful shame if people were to find out about what the perfect, responsible Warden was allowing in his inescapable prison, wouldn't it?"

No, no, no-

"So you're blackmailing us," Quackity's eyebrows are furrowed, jaw clenched tightly. Wilbur tips his head back and laughs.

"Oh, this isn't a threat, Big Q! Just a few- let's just call them hypotheticals." He begins to pace back and forth, gait smooth and unburdened, "I'm just saying that you two are powerful right now, you know? And it's great! I love this- what was it, Las Nevadas, you're calling it? It's great. It's absolutely magnificent. I'm just saying that you might want to be careful about what people end up finding out; you know people can be about power, on this server, and it would be such a shame to see this place burned to the ground."

Quackity's wings tense, and Sam can already see the younger's mouth opening and his fingers beginning to glow white with him reaching into his inventory, and oh prime if things escalate here then they're so, so screwed-

"Business!" He shouts louder than he wants, Quackity's head snapping towards him, lips still slightly parted from the words that he never got to say, and Sam ignores him to focus his attention on Wilbur, still staring at them with a smile playing on his lips. "You said you would be willing to talk business, right, Wilbur?"

"Yes, of course! Let's talk business. What do you think, Quackity?" Wilbur pauses, looks Quackity in the eye, and the younger glares but doesn't say anything. "Oh, don't worry too much, Big Q. I honestly think that it'll be good for all of us - a mutually beneficial arrangement, if you will."

"Wilbur, just," Sam sighs, fights against the incoming headache. "Can you please just get to the point?"

"Of course, Sam," Wilbur all but chirps, "So- we have something you want, and you have something we want. I say we pool our resources- our knowledge, Dream's combat prowess, your protection and items - and make something better."

"Pool our resources- wait wait wait, you mean you want to fuckin'-"

"I don't know how much Dream has told you, but I've been dead for a pretty long time; there really isn't all that much to do in the Void, you know. I've gotten pretty bloody good at cards, if I do say so myself." Wilbur grabs Dream, ignoring the way he flinches as he slings an arm around his shoulders, "What do you say? Have room in Las Nevadas for two more, Big Q?"

Sam blinks. Prime, give him strength. "What?"

Quackity hisses quietly, "You want to help with Las Nevadas? Both of you?" Sam watches as he turns his glare from Wilbur to Dream, and oh, so that's what this is about. He points his thumb jerkily in the direction of the masked man, watching, as Dream ducks his head down, unable to back away too far with Wilbur's arm still braced behind his neck. "And why should I work with him?"

"Two in one deal, Quackity, you have both of us or nothing at all," Wilbur drawls, "Besides, I know you've wanted the power of the resurrection book - and done quite a lot to get it! I'm really very impressed. Of course, we couldn't simply give it to you, but with us on your side, there's hardly even a difference." Quackity opens his mouth, looking like he's about to protest- "And, really, it would be nice to have Dream on your side in case the Blade comes for your other eye, no?"

His mouth shuts with an audible click, one-eyed glare meeting Wilbur's all-too easy expression, before finally nodding jerkily. "Fine. As long as he doesn't cause too much trouble."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Wilbur claps Dream on the back, and he curls into himself more, arms raising up to his head. "You've done more than enough to keep him obedient."

"We'll have to write out the terms later," Quackity presses on. "Don't want either of you trying anything. I've put so much fuckin' time into this place, I'm not letting you fuck it up, you hear?"

"Of course, Big Q," Wilbur's smile is jagged, all teeth, as he holds his arm out between them. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Quackity breathes in, out, looks over at Sam. There's a question written in the tight edge of his shoulders, in the way his wings are braced and held to his sides - are we sure about this?

Sam tips his head in a shallow nod. Do we really have a choice?

Quackity takes Wilbur's hand, shakes it. "Then welcome to the team."

Wilbur laughs, and it sounds like flames and explosions and the ground shaking beneath your feet, burns with the cold heat of smoke and ash - and Sam knows, with a bitter, searing certainty, that this is going to collapse around them in a blaze of glory, that they've all but signed their death warrants, have nothing left but to wait for the countdown timer to hit zero and blow this place up to kingdom come. Wilbur meets his eyes - dark, dead, grey like cinders and gunpowder - and he knows that the other man is thinking the same thing.

"I think this is the start to something beautiful," Wilbur says, and Sam grits his teeth as he steps into the building.

Something beautiful, indeed.

#-> vegas team au 2.0 #queue <3 #tw torture #tw toxic relationship #tw unhealthy relationship #tw manipulation #tw emotional distress #tw mental instability #tw threats #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

I thought this would be an interesting twist: After the failed ritual, what if Lucien's s/o ran into Molly? Thank you!

Okay so this one came out quicker than I expected 😅. Little 'twist' at the end because I could not help myself. I hope you enjoy it! 😘

You warned him. You warned him so many times but he wouldn’t bloody listen. Too caught up in his own game for power, never satisfied. But what were you supposed to do? Stop him? No, you’d never. You loved him more than that but you were not prepared to follow him to his own death. Lucien, you idiot how could you? You tried everything but he didn’t come back. The ritual failed. You didn’t want to uphold your part of the bargain. You knew this mage had ulterior motives and after being granted a peak of those pages she wouldn’t back down.

The woman wanted it all for herself and Lucien stood between her and that power the Eyes of Nine had to offer. Knowing the Tombtakers would follow Lucien to the extremes they would also accept the risks of this ritual and would be content but disappointed should it fail. With what you had seen you knew it shouldn’t fail. You had warned Lucien of your suspicions but his own arrogance made him blind to the consequences of this all. He wouldn’t listen and you were becoming an obstacle so when the ritual was to go down you weren’t there.

Lucien has slipped away from your warm embrace in the dead of night to perform the ritual and of course Vess messed with it, assuring he wouldn’t be able to return to his body therefor as per the agreement, she’d take the book as payment. It was too late when you found him, already dead. No amount of healing or revivification could bring him back to you. You had to accept that but you could enact revenge on the bitch that took him away from you. You’ll have her wishing she was the one in a shallow grave instead.

The Tombtakers diverged, finding their own paths. Cree tried to take you with her but you wouldn’t. You had your own task to complete. After that you could rest. Making the arrangements, finding allies where you could, earning and cashing in favours from anyone of power or resources you could left you with quite the arsenal at your disposal but you couldn’t just walk into the capital of the Dwendalian Empire and murder one of the archmages of the Cerberus Assembly. You had to be patient, lay low and let everyone think you moved on.

Still you visited the grave whenever you could. There was a comfort in the hope that maybe, wherever he was he could hear you. Lucien would probably scold you for going on a revenge path against one of the most powerful magic users on the continent all by your lonesome. He’s one to talk. Nevermind, you told him about your adventures, and hoping to acquire the resources to attempt to bring him back. You won’t give up hope.

Then you returned, returned to find the grave empty. You followed the tracks but they lead you nowhere. You had to find him. You had to find Lucien before anyone else did because what might they do? What state would he be in? Does this mean he’s already ascended? Would this mean he’d truly fully become the Nonagon for once and for all? But most of all, you just want him back in your arms knowing he’d be safe. You’d scour Exandria to find him.

There you are standing in a dark alleyway, hood blocking direct view of your face as you’re quite literally in the middle of a back alley deal. You’re no stranger to the shady business and shady people can most often be found in these places. You pay your contact in exchange for the information your requested, satisfied with the results. You hear commotion on the main street. Guards. Parting from your contact you wait for the guards to pass. That’s when you notice a lavender tiefling bolt past you. A very familiar lavender tiefling.

Confusion, relief, heartache, panic, happiness, disappointment, a wave of emotion hits you in a way you’re not even sure how you’re supposed to feel at this point. Many questions accompany those feelings. What are you supposed to do? Well, go after him of course! If Lucien’s back and he’s being chased by guards, that’s not a good thing for the current situation. Sticking to the shadows you trail along. Lucien may just have lost his touch but perhaps the city is an unfamiliar one to him and alone, he doesn’t know the way. The tattoos are new, so are the rather colourful clothes but you know he never does anything without reason.

You figure out where he’s going, the direction at least and from your own past encounters here you know the side alleys. You take a path that should have you end up ahead of him. You’ll have to take a few rooftops and private yards but it’s the quickest and you’ve done it plenty of times. Once you get in place you take off your cloak, get ready. You hear the guards shouting for reinforcements. The closer he gets from around the corner you can see the smug grin filled with mischief as he runs. You’ve missed that one.

The moment comes and you grab onto him as he passes pulling him into the alley with you, wrapping your cloak around him and pulling the hood up. Hands on both sides of his face you look at him closely. There’s confusion in his eyes as they focus on you. He’s already out of breath but you pull him into a deep kiss. Lucien hits the wall behind him and readjusts the hood of the cloak to keep his face covered. The response to the kiss only comes with the sound of the guards drawing near and is very confused. The guards pass by. They glance into the alley but awkwardly turn back to following the street upon seeing the two of you together.

As soon as they’re gone Mollymauk breaks away from you. He’s breathing heavily more from the run than the kiss you shared. He’s very confused. Indifferent to being kissed by a stranger, this… unexpected to say the least. He’s got no idea who you are but you saved his ass so you’re alright in his books at the moment. That doesn’t mean he’s not wary of you. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you know him, or well whoever he used to be and with the conflicting emotions running through you he’ll have to think fast to spin his bullshit correctly.

“You have no idea how happy I am you’re alive. Does this mean it worked after all? Did you succeed?” You run your thumbs over Lucien’s cheekbones as he holds onto your wrists lightly. The pressure in your chest grows heavier as you await his answer.

“It did. I did. It didn’t go as planned but I’m here now.” Molly works his charm like his life depends on it because he entertains the thought it might. Your touch, there’s something eerily familiar about it, akin to being reminded of a distant long forgotten dream. Hazy but it feels real. He still has no idea who you are and there’s no bells ringing either. While he much rather run far away avoiding any and all connections to a past not his, he cannot help but commend whoever came before him. The one that got buried definitely had a good taste in lovers? Friends? Molly’s not going to assume even though you kissed him quite passionately.

Your chest clenches and it feels as if your breath won’t leave your body, your blood stopping in your veins, like you got hit by an extra dimensional force attempting to pull everything away from you. You listen to Lucien’s words. It looks like him but why do you feel like you hear someone else? It’s not an illusion or some trick you’re sure. If it were your enemies would have known to pick a better imposter and you’d have been dead already. Your own mind fights against this train of thought, justifying it. Lucien had been dead for weeks until you found the empty grave. Of course there were bound to be side effects or even consequences to the ritual. But then again, it had been two years since then. Two years to recover from whatever happened…

“You don’t know me, do you?” Speaking the words out loud breaks your heart. You don’t fight the pain they cause. There’s no tears. You’ve already grieved Lucien once. You’re not doing it again. This will be nothing more than a painful reminder, a cruel joke from the gods behind the divine gate. Why must the fates torture you so for nothing more than loving an ambitious man reaching for the stars and beyond?

“No. I’m sorry.” Molly can’t help but feel your pain. It’s clear you cared a great amount about his predecessor, the way you speak reveals intense heartbreak at the passing of that one. It also shows acceptance that whoever he used to be is gone and you’ve come to terms with that a while ago. That’s enough for him to recognise you won’t hurt him. Molly had never felt sorry for the death of who he used to be and he won’t start now but he does feel sorry for you. This whole situation is messed up.

You close your eyes and nod, dropping your hands and take a step back. No matter how much your heart may tell you to be close to this tiefling, your mind knows it’s not Lucien. You cannot in good conscious hang onto whatever remains. It’s not fair you him, to Lucien but most of all not fair to yourself. Do you wish it was Lucien standing here in front of you? Of course you do. You’d do anything to get him back but what would directing all your pain achieve directed at this new person in the same body? It would accomplish nothing but more pain. You can’t imagine this tiefling in front of you doesn’t have any friends, loved ones, people who care about him. You weren’t going to put you don’t know how many others through the same pain you’ve been put through.

“I am as much of a ghost of the past to you as you are to me.” You’ve come to the conclusion that based of his responses there may not be any recognition, there is an unknown familiarity to you on his end. Perhaps the final slivers of Lucien remaining but nothing more than a fleeting memory. A hand reaches out for yours. You allow him to take your hand and he rubs circles in the back of it with his thumb in an attempt to bring you some comfort. It’s a gesture out of kindness. Not out of selfish intent or with the expectancy to get something out of it, like Lucien would when faced with a stranger he clearly had the upper hand over.

“You seem to have cared for my predecessor, Lucien, quite a lot. I truly am sorry.” You offer him a saddened smile as a silent thank you. He knows Lucien’s name so he must have learned something of the past. You gather it hasn’t been much and most definitely is second hand knowledge by his lack of information on the ritual, who he used to be, everything really.

“You know his name?” The sentence is voiced somewhere in between a question and a statement.

“A blood cleric named Cree. She ran into us-me and mistook me for him. I played along but I don’t think she really bought it. She didn’t reveal much.” The name of the tabaxi alone is enough to make your blood boil. If Cree had known for however long, why hadn’t she gotten in contact with you? You know exactly why and are debating wether or not you could do with a new fur rug. You also acknowledge that Cree is a risk and this new-not Lucien will have to watch his back.

“Since you’re not Lucien nor do you seem to be using that name, what do I call you?”

“Mollymauk Tealeaf or simply Molly to my friends.” The tiefling-Mollymauk smiles at you, a genuine smile. You have to appreciate the small gestures of comfort and kindness.

“I would give you my own name but for both of our sakes I won’t. You may refer to me as an old friend. I know I have no right to but may I ask you a favour?”

Mollymauk nods. As always he leaves a place better than he found it, tries to bring joy and happiness wherever he can even if that means making a fool of himself. Very few times has he been faced with someone who needs his help as much as you do. While there’s definitely limits to what he can provide, you deserve some compassion. Especially after the shitty cards life had dealt to you. He’ll try to ease that if he can.

“May I- May I ask you to tell me about your life, Mollymauk?” Not the request he expected. Then again, to be fair he didn’t really know what to expect. A kiss maybe? Stick along for a while? Perhaps even a final goodbye so you could close this chapter once and for all? But of all the things you asked about him. Not Lucien. Him.

“It’s a long story…” Molly drifts off reminiscing the wild ride of the past two years, especially the events of the last few months upon joining the Mighty Nein and the adventures they had already gone on; were currently on but if you really wanted to hear all about that, he’d tell you.

“I have plenty of time. How about we walk and talk? Get you back to your traveling companions? Your friends? And if there’s still plenty more to tell, if you want to you can tell me over a few drinks. My treat.” You feel within yourself you’d better be able to let go knowing this Mollymauk is happy and lives content. Lucien might be gone but Mollymauk deserves a good life free of Lucien’s burdens. You’ll do what you can to assure that.

“Never tell a story for free. That sounds like a good deal.” Molly offers you his arm and when you hesitate, expects you not to take it but to his surprise you do. There’s something strangely comforting about the whole ordeal. You’re both strangers to each other but it still feels like you have known each other for years.

On your way to where Mollymauk is staying he feels no need to hold back or deceive and instead tells you what happened to him; how he woke up, dug himself out of a grave and was found by a kind man, joined the circus, became a fortune teller, made friends along the way, found a family, many tales of the mischief he was up to, leaving every place better than he found it. You had some good laughs and were able to ask some questions throughout. All in all you came to the conclusion Mollymauk’s life hasn’t been an easy one but it was a good one and he was happy.

Then he found this group of strangers in a tavern somewhere in Trostenwald. His old family was torn away in the wreckage of a devil toad but he found a new one in these strangers. The Mighty Nein. Their time together has been but a few months but they already feel like family and he’d do anything for them. They might be assholes but they’re good people.

You got to meet them. Molly- as he keeps insisting because you are his friend now, introduced you to this Mighty Nein as he thought it best you heard some of these stories from their mouths too for the sake of perspective. He introduced you to them as such; an old friend from the past. The details were left blurry but Molly’s confidence was enough to leave them at the very least accepting and not mistrusting you. They shared their stories with you. They needed him. They may have come far from the assholes they were, but they still had a ways to go. You knew you could not tear that away from him nor did you feel right to join them, even if temporarily.

It’s time for you to say goodbye. You bid your farewell to the Mighty Nein and while they would ask you to stay just a little longer, you know you cannot. You will not insert yourself into their lives based on the merits of your own lies and life. They are free so let them be free. Molly walks you out so you may have one final conversation before you leave his world behind you.

“You don’t have to go yet. They enjoy your company and honestly, they could learn a thing or two from you.” Molly offers as you stand outside of the tavern, the sky since having grown dark and the stars out. The air is cool, winter is drawing near, before you know it the frost will stick to the ground and you’ll be back in Shadycreek plotting the demise of a certain Cerberus Assembly member. You’ll have to leave this all behind.

“You know I can’t. For all of our sakes.” You offer Molly a smile. You’re happy with what you got to see, the stories you were told but this is where it ends and that’s okay. Molly knows it too. Sometimes it’s better to let go than to hang on. You have your own life just as he has his.

“So I guess this is goodbye then.” Molly takes hold of both of your hands and squeezes lightly before he pulls you in for a hug. You return the embrace. Pulling apart enough to look him in the eyes you stroke his cheek, tracing the tattoos fanning up his neck and jaw.

“I am still but a ghost of the past. A ghost I will remain. I wish you a good life, Mollymauk Tealeaf. May we one day meet again.” You kiss his cheek and despite the appearance of Lucien, it doesn’t feel the same. Despite how it may sound, you’re happy it doesn’t. You step out of Molly’s arms.

“May we meet again.” The words Molly speaks are like a breath upon the wind as you walk backwards, one final look at the lavender tiefling as you blend into the darkness, fading like a ghost.

There may be many more things Molly would like to ask you. He’d like to get to know you and the thought that maybe one day he might, sounds like a good day in his mind. You have your own business to take care of first but maybe one day you will meet again. For now a ghost of the past he doesn’t recall you will remain…

——————

But a few months later you find your way back on the road to Shadycreek Run. There you found a grave marker along the Glory Run Road… The marker held a colourful ostentatious red coat embellished to the nines. It appears to have been left to the weather for some time but you recognise it. Hit with a sense of dread you approach the grave already knowing who it belongs to. The least you can do is pay your final respects to the friend you never got to know more.

You dismount your horse guiding it the reins closer to the marker. That’s definitely Molly’s coat. There’s no denying that now. You walk further up the hill offering a silent prayer to the Moonweaver who Molly admitted to being a follower of.

Approaching the grave you see it dug up. You expect grave robbers, thieves of some kind as you brush your fingers over the fabric of the coat. You get a glance of the grave and see it empty instead. Not robbed; empty. No body, nothing but the marker and the coat. Down the other side of the hill you see a figure, a lavender tiefling, tapestry draped around him watching the skies. The back is turned to you so the tiefling doesn’t see you. A wave of both relieve and dread washes over you as you are met with your own ghost of the past.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #critical role #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #mollymauk x reader #lucien x reader

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bamfdaddio · 3 years

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X-Men Abridged: 1980 - The Dark Phoenix Saga

The X-Men, those enduring mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 132 - 140, X-Men Annual 4) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne, John Romita Jr. and Bob McLeod

Go on. Name a more iconic X-Men panel. I’ll wait. (X-Men 134)

If you were born in 1980, you were born under the sign of the Phoenix. This means you will have great hair, but you’ll also be absolutely corrupted by power. Don’t worry, as long as you don’t consume any stars and/or galaxies, you should be fine.

This year hits the ground running, introducing Emma Frost, Kitty Pryde and Dazzler in one fell swoop. The White Queen is the first of the Hellfire Club to make her move, but Phoenix is quickly able to dispatch of her, as you can read here.

Cyclops, worried that the rest of the Inner Circle will soon come in for the kill, decides to abscond to Angel’s Aerie in New Mexico to throw their pursuers off their scent. Jean decides to make the most of it and has sex with Scott on top of mesa. (Kinky!) She also shuts off his uncontrollable destructo-beams, nbd. This somehow inspires Scott to go from reactive to proactive and lead an ill-advised charge straight into the Hellfire Club on the night of their big ball… soirée... thing. Call it a Hellfire Gala-avant-la-lettre.

Fine, he might have been inspired by the raw power of the Phoenix. She’s the biggest gun on their side and, if there's one thing you can be sure of, it´s that reliable powerhouse Jean won´t switch sides in the middle of battle.

Oh wait, that's exactly what she does.

As soon as they enter the Hellfire Club, Jason Wyngarde, who reveals he’s actually Mastermind, takes control of Jean, finally turning her into the Black Queen. With the power of the Phoenix and the patriarchy on their side, the Inner Circle makes short work of the X-Men. They consists of:

Jason Wyngarde, aka Mastermind.

Sebastian Shaw. Often shirtless. The Jeff Bezos of mutantkind. Has the ability to absorb kinetic energy, which means punching him only makes him stronger. (Colossus and Storm figure this out the hard way.)

Harry Leland. Ability of mass manipulation, which has got to be one of the dopest powers ever. Uses it to dunk Wolverine three floors down into the sewer.

Donald Pierce. 25% robot, 100% asshole, 100% useless in taking out X-Men, 225% the worst.

Wolverine is the only one who escapes, resulting in another iconic image:

Apparently, this picture is solely responsible for the fact that Wolverine became the face of the X-Men in the zeroes. It also lit my cigar from the other side of the room. (X-Men 132)

Needless to say, stabbing ensues.

Meanwhile, Shaw pontificates what he wants with the X-Men. He means to use them as guinea pigs to isolate the X-Gene, which he’ll then reverse engineer to give everyone (with money) super powers and all of a sudden, I want Shaw to do a team-up with John Sublime. Jean is not all there, however: she’s trapped in the astral plane, cultivating a cruel streak a mile high.

And suddenly, Jean-turning-evil is not all that funny anymore. (X-Men 133)

Cyclops traverses the mental link he shares with Jean to confront ‘Sir Jason’ and challenge him to a duel. Guy can’t catch a break: in Jean’s mindscape, he is stabbed and he promptly collapses in the real world. Ruh-roh!

Wolverine, meanwhile, has done a passable impression of the Bride against the Crazy 88 in Kill Bill, and he interrupts the Hellfire Club and their gloating. That’s when Jean resurfaces as well, snapping out of her voluptuous Victorian fantasy and, playing a dubious tango with everyone’s trust issues, switching sides once again. The Phoenix is like the golden snitch: as long as your team holds it, it’s enough to win.

Colossus snaps Pierce’s robo-arm, Shaw gets punted through a floor and Leland uses his powers to increase Wolverine’s mass - just when Logan is jumping on top of him. Oops! Should have made him lighter than a feather, Leland.

Jean, meanwhile, is doing her own passable impression of the Bride and goes on what the advertisements would refer to as a ‘Roaring Rampage of Revenge’. (Oh, she roars, and she rampages, and she gets bloody satisfaction.)

This is what happens when you fuck around and find out, Jason. (X-Men 134)

Phoenix makes Mastermind’s mind touch the infinite. His tiny human mind can’t cope. And, just like me when I’m at Pride and surrounded by a bevvy of shirtless gym bunnies, he becomes a dribbling mess. A shell with nothing inside. For those of you paying attention: this is where your Lit teacher would shout “dramatic irony” and underscore Emma Frost vs. Storm on the chalkboard.

This is also the moment where she officially Breaks Bad.

We see powerless people become heroes all the time. The reverse, where the angel falls? That happens far more rarely. I think that is the reason this story was so shockingly effective in the eighties. The reason why it’s still so effective? I think because, like the One Ring, you can read the rise and fall of the Phoenix in a myriad of ways. Is this a victim, reclaiming power? Is this a woman, trying to rise in a man’s world? Is this someone who was always buttoned up, daring to embrace her own power, her sexuality, her dangerous side -- only to get promptly beat down? The ambiguity of the narrative gives it strength, which is why I think it keeps resonating even now. This counts especially in the X-Universe, inherently designed to appeal to the underdog.

Anyway, the X-Men try to flee, but it’s too late. Jean can’t hold it in any more. She explodes in Phoenixesness and vaporizes the X-Men’s aircraft over Central Park. Relishing in her power, Jean easily defeats her friends, before flying off into the galaxy.

In the Avengers mansion, Beast gets the report that the X-Men are trashing the Hellfire Club. Ignoring his duties as an Avenger, Beast chooses his old family and hops off to investigate on his own.

The report, by the way, comes from Shaw, who knows when to turn tail and cut his losses. Among the confused, scared refugees of their party, he begins working a politician on the importance of a Sentinel program. That politician? Senator Kelly. Remember that name.

Jean can’t talk, she’s doing hot girl things. Nomnomnom that star system, sis. (X-Men 135)

Originally, Jean wasn’t meant to die. This one panel, the one showing the inhabited planet, is the reason why she eventually does: Jim Shooter, editor-in-chief, felt Jean shouldn’t be able to get away with a literal genocide. Claremont and Byrne, who had planned to strip Jean of her powers at the end of this, had to change the end of their story within days before it went to print. Additionally, this stoked the adversarial fire between the two: Claremont claims that he hadn’t originally intended there to be an inhabited planet, but felt his hands were tied when Byrne drew one. I wonder how true this is, considering how embedded it is in the narrative, but that’s neither here nor there.

The Phoenix’s genocide alerts the Shi’Ar - and therefore Lilandra - to her presence. Lily says that Galactus is nothing compared to the Phoenix: he merely eats planets, she will consume all that exists.

A hungry Jean, meanwhile returns to Earth, not sure what she’s looking for. She pays a visit to the home of her parents, but when they warily come to greet her, she can’t help but read all the innermost thoughts of her family. Nothing is secret, nothing is sacred. (Imagine knowing all those little thoughts your parents had about you, all those little terrible human things they did in their life. Imagine knowing all their sexual fantasies. Brrr.) It sours the Phoenix against them and she is about to start familicide to her list of sins, when the X-Men attack!

Nightcrawler slaps a psionic scrambler designed by Beast on her, but she’s still too strong. Wolverine tries to end her, but he isn’t ruthless enough to do the deed. When the scrambler overloads, Scott tries reasoning with her, appealing to her love. This causes the Phoenix to waver and Charles Xavier (airdropped in by Warren), bolts Jean telepathically.

Drinking game rule for the Phoenix saga no 6: shout “ca-caw” and take a sip every time the raptor appears. (X-Men 136)

Xavier feels Jean helping him out from within the Phoenix and together, they slowly trap Phoenix in the same sort of energy-matrix as Jean did with the M’Kraan-crystal. The Phoenix finally lays dormant, the X-Men have Jean back and Scott, overwhelmed by emotion, sort of awkwardly proposes to her. Happy Ending! And then, pulling the rug out from under our feet, the X-Men (including Beast and Angel) are whisked away.

They appear in front of Lilandra. The Shi’Ar hold Jean accountable for her planet-killing ways and Lilandra orders her Imperial Guard to take her away! But Charles invokes an ancient law with the same relish of someone who invokes an obscure board game rule against the person who is about to win: he demands a trial by combat.

The rules are easy:

X-Men win: Jean lives

Shi’Ar win: Jean dies.

The trial will be on the dark side of the moon. The Shi’ar are way too strong and, one by one, the X-Men fall, until only Jean and Scott are left. In their last stand, Jean loses control and becomes the Phoenix again, wiping the floor with the Imperial Guard. Technically, they win, but she knows now.

Suicide by abandoned-machine-of-a-long-forgotten-civilization-on-the-dark-side-of-the-moon. (X-Men 137)

She dies. Phoenix dies. The X-Men lose. Scott, bereft, leaves the X-Men.

One detail I love is the holempathic crystal that Lilandra bestows on Jean’s parents.

Without becoming too maudlin, the idea of this is beautiful. A condensed image of a person you love, one you can touch when you feel memories slipping away so you can remember who they were. (X-Men 138)

And with that, season 2 of the X-Men ends. Without Cyclops and Phoenix, the X-Men have to readjust. While Beast returns to the Avengers, Angel takes up residence in the mansion again. He confesses to liking most of the new X-Men, except Wolverine. (To be fair, Wolverine is an acquired taste.) Kitty Pryde also formally starts attending the school and slowly, the Jean-and-Scott-shaped void is filled.

Patriarchal Charles is thrilled to finally have a new teenager in the house who will hang on to his every word. It’ll be like the sixties all over again! (X-Men 139)

There are so many beautiful touches in the few panels:

Wolverine calling Charles ‘Chuck’

Nightcrawler getting drinks (and a beer)

Most amazingly of all, Storm becoming the leader. (I give Chuck a lot of flak, but this decision is Right.) Not just because Storm is the best X-Man for the job, but also because she was a black woman leading one of premier Marvel superhero teams for, what? The better half of a decade? The eighties had barely started, so this was a big fucking deal.

Storm also takes up a motherly role for Kitty, who takes up her suggestion for a codename: Sprite. (This after Kitty rejects Charles’ suggestion of Ariel, which is only fortunate, considering that name would soon be associated with redhaired mermaids.)

The rest of the year is dedicated to two adventures, both of them starring Kurt. The first is depicted in the annual: on Kurt’s birthday, he receives a mysterious package with a mysterious figurine that mysteriously explodes in his face. Professor X calls guest star Dr. Strange for aid, who deduces that his soul has been stolen. What follows is a quest to regain Kurt’s soul in an adventure that feels a little too I just read Dante’s Inferno, check how smart I am.

Hell is a little too pedestrian and boring, though we do get a King Minos hitting on Kurt and Ororo. A man of wealth and taste indeed. Anyway, at the end of this side quest, it turns out all of this was a convoluted revenge scheme concocted by one Margali of the Winding Road. She turns out to be Kurt’s (adoptive) mother, who’s getting revenge for Kurt killing her son.

Kurt, racked with guilt, reveals he had no choice. Stefan had always feared the darkness in his soul and he’d made Kurt pledge to stop him if he should ever succumb to it. After Stefan killed a child or two, Kurt had no choice but to end him. Stefan perished and Kurt was blamed for all of the murders, having to flee an angry mob.

Margali forgives him, with some help from Jimaine, Kurt’s foster sister. In a twist that is a little too soap opera for my tastes (and I watch Riverdale), Jimaine turns out to be Kurt’s squeeze, Amanda Sefton. I’ve always disliked this twist, and not just because of the incesteous vibes: I like the idea of Kurt dating a regular lady who is into him despite his appearance and his being a mutant. Making Amanda Sefton his sorcerous half-sister dilutes that message a lot.

The tail end of 1980 involves Wolverine going to Canada so Wolverine can make amends with Alpha Flight. Kurt joins him, ostensibly to flirt with Aurora, but in fact this shows that Kurt and Wolverine are establishing a rapport. A deeper friendship.

In a pretty paint-by-numbers adventure, Wolverine, Nightcrawler and the worse half of Alpha Flight take down a Wendigo. We don’t get Northstar or Aurora, but we do get more Snowbird, who can change herself into Canadian animals, with the danger of being consumed by her animal side.

We get this delightful panel out of it:

Scared Nightcrawler almost makes me forget how full of shit Jimmy MacDonald is, considering last time Kurt saw them, they tried to kidnap the fuzzy elf. (X-Men 139)

This whole arc is meant to show the softening of Wolverine. Not only does he share his name with Kurt (well, sort of: “Logan, is that your name?” “Yup.” “You never told us.” “You never asked.”), but when they fight the Wendigo and Snowbird turns into a white wolverine to deal the final blow, he talks her out of being consumed by her vicious animal nature.

The year ends with two details worth mentioning:

The Canadian government dissolves Alpha Flight, which I can only find a prescient move that highlights their good taste. A realistic note I like is the minister referring to the mutant problem as ‘an American problem’ even though they employ the Beaubier twins. Wankers.

Fred Dukes escapes prison to join the New Brotherhood of Mutants!

We’re now entering a run of the X-Men which I haven’t read much of yet, but Freddy mentions he was helped by some lady lawyer. That’s gotta be Mystique, right?

I can barely contain my glee.

Ugliest Costume: Despite that godawful hooded thing Kitty wears, I have to give this to Dazzler. There’s no salvaging that costume: I’m sorry, but she’s wearing a disco ball around her neck. It's a boot from me.

Best new character: Emma Frost. Fight me by the bike rack near the parking lot if you disagree.

Turns evil: Jean Grey, famously so.

What to read: X-Men 129 to 137, the Dark Phoenix run.

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honey-dewey · 3 years

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Light Me A New York Torch

Pairing: Oberyn Martell/GN! Reader

Word Count: 2,045

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence, mentions of gore, ghosts

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog, and the masterlists are created by @clydesducktape.

You couldn’t remember when it started. When you began to see the people no one else could see. But it had been going on for years, and it was no longer as unsettling as it had once been. Instead, the slightly faded people wandering through the crowds of Sunspear were a comfort, coming with the knowledge that after death, there was still some kind of life.

The ghosts never bothered you, and they never bothered others. They mostly kept residence where they’d been buried, never venturing past the wrought iron gates of their respective cemeteries. But occasionally, especially whenever you made visits to the castle, you would see ghosts, their silver fog trails and oozing injuries marking them as some of the valiant dead. They liked to sit in on meetings, especially the important ones. You never cared, always nodding a brief hello if you were alone.

But it was the Princess of Sunspear who you spent most of your days with.

Elia Martell was buried just outside the castle, in a cemetery dedicated to members of the Martell bloodline. Her name was etched beautifully into a tombstone, her two children beside her. You never met the kids, but Elia loved to spend time in the sun with you, listening to stories you told. Now, you sat on a small bench, waiting for your ghostly friend, a bag of fabric beside you as you worked on a new robe for the Prince.

“Is that for Oberyn?”

You looked up, smiling at Elia. Her face was near ruined, the color faded with death, but her smile was still beautiful, even if it was streaked in blood.

“Of course,” you said, examining the neat backstitching you’d been working on all morning. “Who else wears fabrics this expensive?”

Elia laughed, sitting beside you and looking out over the sea. “How is he?“ she asked softly. “Is he doing well?”

You nodded. “He is.” You set down the sleeve you’d been holding in favor of focusing entirely on Elia. “Doran fell ill, so Oberyn is going to be heading to King’s Landing for him. He leaves in a week’s time.”

Elia hummed. “Travel will do him good,” she decided. “He’s grown too comfortable here in Sunspear.”

“Comfortable?” You asked with a laugh. “How so?”

“He’s like a cat,” Elia said, echoing your laugh. “A cat who’s found an awfully gullible human to leave it a bowl of cream every night.”

You laughed, your project abandoned in your lap. “Unfortunately,” you said once you’d regained yourself. “I think this cat is soon to be declawed. Did you hear what Doran was planning on doing?”

“Please, enlighten me.”

You and Elia both jumped at the new voice, and you turned to see the last person you wanted to see right now. Prince Oberyn.

“Ah, my Prince,” you said, bowing your head. “I didn’t see you there.”

Oberyn smiled, looking at the bag at your feet. “Who were you talking to?” He asked, entirely unaware of Elia sitting beside you, her bloodstained eyebrows turned up in worry.

“Old ghosts,” you answered honestly, knowing he wouldn’t believe you. Most people never did. “Elia likes the castle gossip.”

Oberyn chuckled, laying his hand atop his sister’s tombstone. “She always did,” he hummed, and Elia stood, standing beside her brother. She gently reached out to touch his face, her thumb gliding over his cheek.

“Tell him he’s too thin,” she said softly, her voice full of worry. “He looks too sad.”

You sighed. Elia, no matter how long she remained youthful, would always be Oberyn’s older sister. She would always harbor that deep flame of concern in her belly. “Elia’s worried about you,” you said, not bothering to stand.

“I suppose she would be,” Oberyn said, turning back to you. “Mind if I sit?”

You shifted your stuff over, allowing Oberyn to sit beside you. He peered into your bag, smiling a bit. “Fabric looks nice.”

“Well, it is for you,” you said, drawing the half finished sleeve out of the bag again and picking up where you’d left off. “I figured you’d like the color.”

“It’ll suit me well,” Oberyn agreed.

Elia looked from you to Oberyn, her face lighting up. “Oh gods!” She said eagerly. “He likes you!”

You ignored her, not wanting Oberyn to assume you were out of your mind. “Are you bringing Ellaria to King’s Landing?“ you asked, picking up your needle and continuing to rhythmically backstitch the hem of the sleeve. “I don’t think she’s been yet.”

“She hasn’t,” Oberyn said. “I will bring her when I leave. She’s grown bored here in Dorne. She’s never truly left the kingdom, and I promised her travel.”

You nodded. “Does she need a new robe?” You asked. “I have some beautiful sheer fabric that I can’t wait to use.”

Oberyn smiled. “You work too hard,” he said lightly. “Ellaria is not in need of a new robe.”

“I work just hard enough,” you countered. “I’ll make her a new one when you return.” You tucked your things into your bag, the waxed spool of thread falling gracelessly on top of the pile of fabric. “I’ll see you tomorrow Oberyn.”

Elia followed you all the way to your sewing room, which was shocking, considering she almost never left the cemetery. The entire time, her face practically glowed, and as soon as the door was shut, she squealed with happiness. “He’s in love with you!”

“Who, Oberyn?” You asked, dragging the wooden dress stand towards your desk and beginning to put fabric pieces onto it. “That’s like saying I’m in love with expensive fabrics. It’s a damn near daily occurrence. Oberyn being in love with me means nothing.”

“Mhm,” Elia hummed, sitting up on the windowsill and watching you pin the half-finished sleeves to the body of the robe. “Do you like him?”

You almost stabbed yourself in the finger. “No!“ you insisted, grabbing a pin cushion and sticking the head of a pin into your mouth. “He’s funny and kind and, sure, maybe a bit handsome, but no! I’m not in love with him!”

Elia’s cat-like grin told you that she didn’t believe you in the slightest. “You love my brother,” she said happily. “Oh! This is amazing!”

Rolling your eyes, you threw an empty spool at Elia, watching it soar through her chest and out the open window. “Hush up,” you said firmly. “I need to focus.”

Seven days of focus later, you were presenting Oberyn with his new robe, Elia by your side.

“How does it fit?” You asked, smoothing the fabric between Oberyn’s shoulders, watching it stretch as he shifted. “Too tight, too loose?”

“It’s perfect,” Oberyn promised, turning. “I’m sure I’ll be the envy of everyone in King’s Landing.”

You smiled. “Be careful on these buttons,” you urged. “If you lose any of them, I might just cry. They were very expensive.”

Oberyn chuckled. “If I have time,” he said. “I shall look in the King’s Landing marketplace. They might have some nice fabrics and things for you.”

Your belly heated. “You don’t have to,” you said, sending a minuscule glare in Elia’s direction as she grinned wildly.

“You deserve a thank you,” Oberyn insisted. “I know you must’ve worked many long nights to finish this robe.”

“It truly was not that bad.” You didn’t disagree with him. You knew just how long you spent awake to put that robe together.

Oberyn’s smile never faded as he turned to his horse. “I’ll be back,” he promised. “Tell Elia I’ll visit her when I return.”

Elia hovered her hand over Oberyn’s. “Stay safe little brother,” she said, and although he couldn’t hear her, you swore Oberyn’s eyes shone brighter as he turned his horse away and rode off.

Two weeks later, after many boring days, you were met with a surprise. The cemetery had not one waiting figure, but two. Elia, ever the permanent fixture, and then another horribly familiar body.

“Oberyn?”

The second figure turned, and you gasped. Oberyn’s face looked as if someone had torn it to shreds. His eyes were no more than rusted red craters in his face, and his mouth was stained in blood. His hair was sticky and matted to his temples, where two identical injuries lay. He was in his leather armor, and you were desperate to know what happened.

“So you weren’t joking,” Oberyn murmured. “You really can see ghosts.”

“What happened?” You asked desperately, not caring if anyone heard you seemingly talking to yourself. “Who did this to you?”

Oberyn sighed. “I was the Imp’s champion,” he said. “In a trial by combat. I fought The Mountain, and lost spectacularly.”

You wanted to scream. “Why?”

Elia shifted on her tombstone. Oberyn took a breath. “Revenge,” he admitted. “For Elia.”

You let out a watery sob. “You bastard!” You screamed, swinging your fists as Oberyn, who merely took the fist to the face, allowing it to pass right through him. “You stupid bastard! I can’t believe I’ve lost you! You! I can’t-“ you fell to your knees, sobs wracking your body. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Who says I’m going anywhere?” Oberyn said, crouching beside you and letting his fingers glide under your chin. The chill racing through your skin forced your head up, so you were looking into his face. “I’m not going anywhere, my little seer. You’re stuck with me for as long as you live.”

You reached out, thumbs ghosting over Oberyn’s bloodied cheeks. “You’re a mess,” you mumbled. “A bloody fucking mess.”

“Well,” Oberyn hummed. “I did just die yesterday.”

The rest of the day, you lay in the cemetery with Oberyn and Elia, occasionally joined by two children Elia admitted were hers. The leaves on the surrounding trees were finally beginning to fall, peppering the ground with dots of vivid orange until the once green grass was hidden beneath a blanket of autumn. It was peaceful, even when silvery clouds rolled through the sky and bells began to toll in the city. Shouts, too far off to decipher, split the air, and wails followed shortly after.

“It seems the world has learned of my death,” Oberyn murmured.

“It seems so,” you agreed. “The common folk have lost a good man.”

Oberyn smiled. “But not you,” he said. “You’ll never lose me.”

You laughed. “I do believe I am stuck with you forever,” you said. “Wanna head into the market tomorrow? I need to make you a funeral robe.”

Looking up at the fog silver sky, the breeze making the leaves dance on the air before they fell to the ground, Oberyn nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly, watching Elia play with her children. “We can make it a date.”

“A date,” you repeated. “Of course.”

#game of thrones #Oberyn Martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing #writer wednesday

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baku-writes · 3 years

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Omgggg I just love the hawks request you did it was amazing and sooo good imma request something similar to it but with DABI/ Touya todoroki can you do where the reader and Touya as children like yk childhood friends both grew up with parents who abused them and one day Touya was about to get beaten badly in training and the reader took it for them ( timeskip when they learnt Touya died they were absolutely sadand almost suicide? And DABI finds her in time and they just talk and confess? <333 :)

AAAAAA I LOVE THIS IDEA!! Personally, even though Dabi isn't my fav character I love his backstory. I just find it so interesting.

Touya todoroki x gn!reader (mostly children versions so angst and fluff)

TW: Abuse, fake suicide (?), suicidal thoughts, minor bodily injury (mentions of burnt skin, bruises and blood). ANGST, spoilers (?)

Back from the dead

Summary: you and touya todoroki grew up together and were both victims of brutal parenting. However, when you took the punishment for Touya it was the final straw... he wasn't Touya anymore...

Life was difficult.

It always had been.

Your entire life you were told you would be nothing, your parents beat you into submission until no motivation ever sparked within you other than to be what they wanted. They wanted a hero. The next number one, just like allmight. They didn't want another version of endeavor, but a capable young hero who could fight any villain and take them down with ease.

Your parents weren't pro heroes, both were rejected by UA and didn't pass the hero course for any other school. It crushed them. But also drove them to insanity. Everything they had ever worked for in their childhood come crashing down within a short period of their lives, that is how the both met. However, when they had you they saw a sadistic glimmer of hope. Hope that their 'spawn' could do what they couldn't and hope that their child could live out their dream for them.

And so they would train you. And train you. And train you. Until you couldn't walk, talk and sometimes even eat due to exhaustion. But once they realised they could no longer give you any more training boosts due to their lack of experience, they handed you off to the number 2, endeavour. Even though they despised him, if that is what they had to do to make you strong.... they were going to make you do it.

And there you met Touya. A young boy, the same age as you, with aspirations and dreams of becoming the hero his father wanted him to be. However, like your parents, they taught this motivation through sadistic punishments and abusive training.

It was obvious the kid was worn out. Burn scars scorched his arms and even his face. It confused you, but also made you protective of him. You hated how overworked he was. You hated to see him get hurt. Ofcourse you wouldn't tell anyone this, knowing your sadistic parents they would threaten his life to motivate you.

One day it was the usual training. Your parents dropped you off at the number 2's house, with only a single bottle of water and a small dirt kids towel. Your overgrown and unkept hair was in an uncomfortably tight messy bun and your limbs ached from the previous days grueling training.

The day started off as normal: using your quirk until you couldn't do it anymore or collapse from exhaustion. Your quirk is called manipulation, it allows you to manipulate the shapes of near by non living objects, fir example you could make a smooth rock spiky. However, your quirk took a lot of focus and energy, so far you could only use your quirk on objects as large as a vase, you were only young.

Touya was next to you, hot flames spewing from his hands and arms. Singing his skin and burning the near by area... that was until he noticed his dads near by ornament fall and shatter on the ground.

Was this ornament important to endeavor? No. But would he still be pissed? Yes.

Fear immediately clouded Touya's mind....

"Nonononono" his panicked cries began to fill the room as you ran over to him, his cries would only alert endeavour sooner. Not because endeavour would be worried for him, but because endeavour would be angry at whatever he had done.

"Touya calm down. Here, I'll sweep it u-"

You barely had time to look up when you hear the sound of the door slam and angry heavy footsteps head towards the training room. Oh no. He's heard.

The door slammed open and silence cascaded over the room. Everything went still as time began to slow, the only sound you could hear was your heart thumping against your rib cage. Touya was going to get hurt.... and you hated that.

"Touya..... did you break the ornament?" He was calm at first. Some may see this as a good sign, but you two know better. He was going to explode any minute, he was a ticking time bomb waiting to blow.

"DID YOU BREAK THE FUCKING THING?" His voice was raised, his steps heading towards the two of you.

He raised his hand, ready to hit his son until your voice chimed in. Weak and unconfident you stood in front of your chest friend as you spoke.

"It was me... I broke it."

Silence filled the room. The scowl on his face grew deeper as he grabbed onto your arm with force.

"You know what's going to happen. Don't tell a fucking soul, you hear me?"

.....

After around 10 minutes you left the backroom, beaten and bloodied. Ofcourse, it wasn't to a severe extent, but still enough to hurt and be noticed by any possible strangers.

Touya didn't speak to you for the rest of the day.... and the next day training was cancelled...

Touya was dead.... death by fire. It was suicide. You knew it.

(TIME SKIP, CURRENT TIME)

The fall from the bridge seemed welcoming. You had got no where in life, running away from your parents at the age of 16 you found yourself helpless and homeless years later.

Recently, you discovered everything was a lie... Toiya wasn't dead... well the Touya you knew was. But the body if him was alive, just being controlled by a man who goes by the name "Dabi". You didn't want to accept that ot was your friend, you didn't want to accept the fact that you still liked him. He was a murderer... you should hate him. But what you hated even more was how you pitied endeavour, the abuser who tortured you two and lead his own son to 'suicide'. He had changed, but you will never forgive him.

The hopelessness and confusion in your life was too much. You let the cool air whip against your face for the final few minutes, you might as well enjoy the last moments in your life. Ironically, it was peaceful, you never really got peace before. And it had to be your final moments that ot decided to make an appearance.

Now was the time. The time to end this miserable life. The time to end the memories and pain that tormented you for years. You would never have to get hurt again, the pain will just stop and never appear. No one will miss you, your friend is gone and your family was never there. Tears began to pour down your face as you realised your life was nothing but a misery... you never even lived. You just survived...

You took a step closer to the ledge.

Until you felt a harsh tug pull you back and force you onto the concrete floor.

"OW WHAT THE HELL?!"

Your head shot up to glare at who ever pulled you down to the ground. But your blood ran cold as a white haired 5'9 figure covered in burn scars stood in front of you...

"D-dabi."

Shock overwhelmed your system, the tears ran down your face faster as you come face to face with your 'dead' best friend. The boy who abandoned you all those years ago..... the man who you never got over...

"Come on now, you know that's not my name." His smile creased his face and wrinkled his scars a little and his held out his hand to you. Warily, you took his hand and allowed him to pull you up. Should you trust him? He was a murderer.... but he was your friend.....

"Long time no see, huh?" He chuckled a little bit. Was this a fucking normal meeting for him. Is he making a guxking joke out of this.... after he abandoned you all those years ago, just to become some low life thug who murders people. INNOCENT PEOPLE.

"What the fuck? Is this funny to you? You think this is funny? Laughing when you left me all those years ago. Laughing when you become this.... a- a... A monster, a freak who murderers out of revenge? Fuck you."

Anger shot through you. You don't care if this gets you killed, either he will do it or you'll do it yourself. He was a monster. A killer. Everything you ever despised in one person. A person you used to love turned into a revenge crazed maniac who kills the innocent.

Surprise flooded his features as you rammed a finger into his chest.

"YOU KILL INNOCENT PEOPLE. YOU HAVE PROBABLY KILLED FUCKING CHILDREN! Who the hell do you think you are coming to see me after what, 5 to 10 years? FUCK I don't even remember anymore because I don't see the point in keeping track of the days I had to live thinking you died! You're a monster...."

Your figure began to crumple, your tough exterior caving in as your pent up emotions broke free from their cage. You collapsed into his arms as he ran a soothing hand down your back. You were so confused.... you were angry yet happy. Sad at what he had become but proud of his strength to fight back...

"Why did you leave me Touya? I c-could of saved you..."

The cool breeze blew against the two of you as Touya continued running soothing strokes down your back. Suprisingly, he was guilty. But he wasn't here to see you upset. He was here to get you, save you, help you. He was here to take you to the LOV, his new family.

"I know I left, but I'm here now. I'm taking you to the League, but I promise they won't hurt you. They are family, you want to change the world right? Fix society? That's our goal too. We have all been hurt one way or another.... but please. Come with me. Let me make up for the time we have missed out on so far, let me be the man you need."

You looked up at him, your eyes sore from crying and nose running. Slowly, you nodded. His warm embrace was welcoming, the first hug you have had in at least 5 years.

"Okay...... but you have to take ms out on a date first." A small goggle escaped your lips as you expected a disgusted face to scrunch his features.

But instead...

"Sure, but we're heading over to the LOV hide out right now sweetheart."

Surprise filled your features as be smiled again, his smile just like his old self.

....

Maybe the new Touya wasn't that bad... maybe the old Touya never left...

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

Never wrote for Dabi before so I hope this is good enough!!! Sorry if it took a while to write, I've had a few mental health things pop up within the last 2 days but I'm going to be okay <33. Let me know if this is what you wanted 💞💞

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rockingrobin69 · 3 years

Text

The Curse

This ‘microfic’ (wordcount approximately 1k) was inspired by the @drarrymicrofic prompt, Haunt Me in the Night. CW: offscreen murder.

It was so cold, his breath actually fogged, adding an unnecessary veil of mystery to the atmosphere of the place. It’s been years, but still it felt like only yesterday since he’s last been here – as familiar as the back of his hand, as sharp in his memory as a punch to the gut. He never thought he’d be back. Azkaban looked almost entirely the same as it used to, but different nonetheless; he couldn’t say why, or what exactly has changed. Maybe nothing did. Maybe it was only him.

Draco knew he reached the cell before he actually saw anything. The silence was too deep, too intentional, and there was the smell – the smell of something alive. He shook off the shiver that ran down his spine and deposited himself in front of the figure inside, sitting with his back against the wall. Draco’s inhale was loud enough to startle the dead, and made the man look up from his shock of grimy dark hair.

“They found it,” Draco said at once, no time for hellos or the choking sob that crawled up his throat. “Harry, they finally found it. What’s been possessing the pin, they found what it is. Or who it is, actually. Turns out the curse was set by a – “

“Ghost, I know,” Harry rasped. His voice was even scruffier than how he looked, which meant it took a moment before Draco could actually understand the words, and then he wished he hadn’t.

“You knew?” but this made no sense. Confusion felt a lot like nausea in his gut. “If you knew, why didn’t you say anything? Why let them put you here, why –“

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry turned his head, filthy and so sad. “Doesn’t matter what made me do it. I still did it, Draco.”

“But –“ no, it really made no sense. “But it wasn’t you! Melinda Jacobs, she wanted revenge on the family that – “

“I know. She told me. I knew what I was doing all along, all right? I knew, and I let her… let it happen. Five people dead, one for every night. And how many more before I was caught if it wasn’t for you, hmm? How many more lies would they let me get away with because I’m Harry Potter?” his chuckle was darker than the corridor and far more frightening. “No, this is where I should be. I deserve to – I was the one who did this, and I should pay the price.”

“Harry.” He wasn’t looking at him, the terrifying prick. “Harry.” Still refused to. “Harry.”

“What do you want me to say?” blazing green eyes zoomed to meet his, the only source of warmth in this place, and by far not a pleasant one. This was the sort of heat a wild fire would emit right before it consumed you. “I’m sorry, all right? I’m sorry I never even left us a chance. I’m sorry I hurt so many people. I’m sorry I got carried away with this… madness.”

“Bollocks.” Draco’s heart was doing something complicated, trying to stop beating and triple its speed at the same time. “Harry, this is such bollocks. You’re using this as an excuse. You’re scared – it’s because I said I loved you, isn’t it? Stop being such a fucking child. The ghost that haunted the pin was behind it, not you. You didn’t do a damn thing. And you know how I know?”

“I – “

“I put a recorder on you,” Draco huffed before Harry got a chance to intervene. “I knew she’d detect any magic we tried to use, so I put a Muggle device on your cloak. I heard her speak to Morton before she killed him. I heard it all, Harry. You pleading her to stop. Him lying through his teeth. And I heard Melinda cry as she tore his…” Draco shook his head, clenching his hands to shaky fists. “I know everything, so don’t you dare fucking lie to me.”

“I felt so sorry for her,” Harry cried out. “I knew how she felt, Draco. She reminded me… I knew, and I didn’t try to stop her, not when it really counted. I’m as much to blame for what’s happened as she is. I’m a murderer. I don’t deserve you, I never have. I don’t deserve your love.”

All right, that did it. Fear and bewilderment had to take the backseat, now he was just pissed off. “Well, tough shit, because you have it. You’re such an idiot – you know, for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve had many faults. So many I actually had to make lists. I wrote fucking poems about them, yeah? But the one thing I never imagined is that you’d be such a bloody coward.”

“I’m not good,” Harry pleaded, voice still so rough it hurt Draco’s ears. “I’m not good enough for you.”

Gods help him, he actually fell to his knees, and the next words came out of him as a shout. “Do you think I fucking care?” his left arm grabbed the bars, his right peeling the sleeve off it. “Do you think I don’t know what that feels like, Harry? That I didn’t spend every single day dreading exactly that, that I wasn’t good enough? But you know what you’ve taught me, you insidious bastard? You taught me that the mistakes of your past don’t have to define you, that you can work through them, that you can grow. Did you really not think I’d afford you the same courtesy, you knobhead? That there’s even the slightest chance I might not want you?” he shook his head and jumped to his feet, heart hammering in his chest hard enough to be painful.

“Draco,” Harry said, maybe asked. Begged. Draco had to close his eyes.

“The hearing’s tomorrow,” he said to the relative peace of his inner eyelids. “You can decide what it is you’re going to tell them. The truth – or the lie you’ve been feeding yourself. But I will be here regardless, Harry. And if you don’t know that by now, then sixteen year-old Draco was right about one thing after all. You really are daft.”

His boots clanked along the empty corridors, his breath fogging, positively fleeing the place that still haunted his nightmares. What a curse it was, loving someone so perfectly stupid.

#drarry #microfic #fic #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #fanfiction #drarrymicrofic #Haunt Me in the Night #cw: offscreen murder #many types of haunting mwhaha #RockingRobin69

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