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biwenqing · 4 years

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for the 5 times meme! wei wuxian, losing things

i looked at this prompt and thought “oh i could go so angsty with this” and then tried to find as much fluff potential as possible 😂 thank you so, so much for sending this in, i adored writing it! i added a plus one time he finds something!

give me a character, and a situation, and I’ll write you 5 ficlets on 5 times that situation occurred

#1) Lotus Pods “See, this is how you take the seeds out.” Jiang Cheng sat on the bank of the river and Wei Wuxian crouched at his side. Wei Wuxian wasn’t quite sure what to think of his new brother’s often surprising temper, but he had decided that he very much liked having a brother anyway. “Now you try.”

Wei Wuxian looked down at the lotus pod in his own hands. He carefully tried to pluck out a seed as Jiang Cheng had shown him, but it slipped to fall on the ground.

“It’s okay, you can have some of mine,” Jiang Cheng said, holding out a seed.

Wei Wuxian cupped his hand and Jiang Cheng carefully put the seed in it. He ate it with a smile. It was still odd (and wonderful!) to be able to eat food even when he wasn’t hungry. “Thanks!”

“Hmph,” Jiang Cheng said, which meant ‘you’re very welcome’ Wei Wuxian was pretty sure. “Go pick more pods, I’ll get the seeds and we can bring them to shijie.”

“Okay!” He scrambled up, being careful not to knock over the basket they brought. Taking off his shoes and rolling up his pants, he splashed into the water. He began picking pods, but dropped them after just a moment as he called, “I see a frog!”

“Really? Where?” Jiang Cheng left the shore and carefully waded his way.

“Shh, right in front of me, behind some leaves,” Wei Wuxian whispered. “Should I catch it?”

“Bet you can’t,” Jiang Cheng challenged.

Glancing over his shoulder he saw the other boy was smiling. Grinning back, Wei Wuxian called, “I bet I can catch more frogs than you can!” before diving into the lotuses, the pods he’d already picked floating forgotten (and later lost) in the water.

#2) A Drawing

Wei Wuxian dug around his spare clothes, tossing them to the side.

“Aren’t you supposed to be packing?” Nie Huaisang asked, appearing to lean against the doorway.

“He is,” Jiang Cheng, the traitor, said from his side of the room.

“I will, I will, I just need to find something first!” Wei Wuxian said, looking around.

“What’re you looking for?” Nie Huaisang moved closer, ignoring the way Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes.

“It’s nothing really!” Wei Wuxian said but not loud enough to cover Jiang Cheng.

“A picture for ‘Lan Zhan’.” The name was said in Jiang Cheng’s rude (in Wei Wuxian’s opinion) imitation of Wei Wuxian’s voice. He didn’t sound like that!

Nie Huaisang gave a little laugh. “Oh really? And why would an esteemed Jade of Lan want that?”

“No reason,” Wei Wuxian said quickly. It was a drawing of some of the rabbits from the cave. That way Lan Wangji could have a reminder of them and of the promises the two of them made together. Wei Wuxian remembered the way Lan Wangji smiled at the lantern art.

“Of course.” Nie Huaisang was covering a smile with their fan. “Did it fall behind the bed?”

Wei Wuxian stopped digging through his clothes and tugged the bed a little way from the wall. Sure enough, the paper had slipped behind. He pulled it out triumphantly, before carefully holding it so neither Nie Huaisang nor Jiang Cheng could see what was on it. They wouldn’t understand.

“You’re welcome,” Nie Huaisang said, and then looked from one brother to the other. “Any other way I can be of help?”

“No, you’ve done enough damage,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “Though I guess now he will pack.”

“I need to give this to Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian hurried out of the room.

Nie Huaisang’s laughter and Jiang Cheng’s cursing could be heard from behind him as Wei Wuxian navigated the Cloud Recesses one more time. He hoped Lan Wangji would smile again.

#3) Chenqing “You lost your spiritual tool,” Wen Qing asked flatly.

“I wouldn’t say lost it...” Wei Wuxian tried to persuade. He was washing a-Yuan’s clothes at the moment and Wen Qing had appeared to drop her own and Granny’s on the pile for him to clean as well. “I just don’t have it right now.”

“Can’t you feel it?” Wen Qing asked.

Wei Wuxian didn’t really like talking about his connection to Chenqing (and it would only make her worry), so he joked instead. “I think the blood pool ate it!”

“The blood pool didn’t eat it.” She settled on a rock near him.

Wei Wuxian was glad to see her taking even a little bit of a break. Wen Qing had been using so much of her energy healing all the Wens. None of them had been in good shape. “Maybe Uncle planted it?” he offered next

“No.” She hadn’t laughed, but the tension in her face lessened.

“It would grow and make cursed fruit,” Wei Wuxian chatted on, turning to focus on some dirt that was packed into the knees of a-Yuan’s pants. “Then we can have cursed fruit wine and sell it at a high price!”

“Who would want to buy cursed wine?” She took the wet clothes when he passed them to her and set them on a different nearby rock to dry.

“Someone who has already had too much regular wine?” he mused.

“Alright, but how do we sell it to a vendor?”

Wei Wuxian thought that over. “We’ll just have to open an inn. Be our own vendor.” Finally, she gave a little snort of laughter. He turned away to hide his own smile.

“I see. I’ll inform Uncle of the plans.” Wen Qing stood then, stretching. “Get some rest after you finish here.”

“Only if you do the same!”

“We’re both going to die of exhaustion,” she declared with a sigh as she wandered away.

#4) a-Yuan “A-Yuan!” Why did he always have to run off when Wei Wuxian was trying to buy potatoes? Had Wen Qing trained him to do this to prevent him from bringing potatoes home? If so, it was a very clever tactic.

Wei Wuxian moved through the crowd, swallowing down the hope that once more Lan Wangji would appear and save the day. That was something that would only happen once in their lives.

“A-Yuan!” He came around the corner to find a-Yuan was playing with two kids who seemed to be close to him in age. They were all playing with little grass butterflies, which was probably what attracted a-Yuan away from Wei Wuxian in the first place.

A young woman who was nearby spotted him and came over. “Are you his dad?”

Wei Wuxian nodded because the truth was too complicated and there was something that longed for her simple question to be that truth.

She smiled. “Oh good, I was worried where he might have come from when my girls got his attention. Sorry, they gave you a scare.”

“As long as he’s safe,” Wei Wuxian smiled back. “We don’t live in town, so he doesn’t get to play much with other kids.”

“Ah, I wondered why you didn’t look familiar,” she said. “He’s been very good and gentle. He’s a very sweet kid.”

“Yes, he is. Thank you,” Wei Wuxian felt something calm in his heart. A-Yuan’s smile... that was why they had done all of this. This was what made all their hardships worth it, seeing a-Yuan grow and learn and be happy.

Now if only he could teach the kid to stop wandering away...

#5) A Teacup Wei Wuxian stared at the table and frowned, hands on his hips. He had wanted to surprise Lan Wangji by putting together a meal for them to share (and making sure it wasn’t spicy at all). Lan Wangji had been so busy with his new duties and Wei Wuxian knew how much his husband could use a break. A quiet evening together would be the perfect surprise.

But one of the teacups was missing. Wei Wuxian crouched and looked to see if it had rolled under the table and then looked under all the other furniture in the room. The little white cup was nowhere to be seen.

He could take out their second set, but he had already put food in this one. It would be silly to mess more dishes just for things to be “perfect.” Sighing, Wei Wuxian took out just a cup from the other set and placed it.

Lan Wangji didn’t comment on it when they sat together to eat, serving each other with the ease of ever-growing familiarity. His husband did smile, as if having a private joke, at the black teacup among the rest of the white dishes.

Ah.

Wei Wuxian hid his own smile as he drank from the cup itself. The parallel was pretty funny, now that he thought of it.

+1) A Home The early fall evening held the hint of coming chill, a crispness that was refreshing after the summer. Wei Wuxian breathed in deeply as he tended to the lotuses he and Lan Wangji had coaxed into growing among the rest of the garden.

The Cloud Recesses were quiet around him but for Lan Wangji’s playing, which wrapped out from the open Jingshi door. But Wei Wuxian remembered the sound of his little Lan students’ soft laughter, the sounds that were always coming from the communal kitchen during the day, and the sound of practice swords striking or music being perfected. The Cloud Recesses were rarely as quiet as their rules would imply.

Wei Wuxian leaned back on his heels to turn his gaze down toward the buildings that the Jingshi was set apart from. What filled him was contentment. He didn’t feel trapped, as his teen self would have pictured. He was older now, had been through a lot more and sometimes the quiet was nice. Soothing. Other times, it was fun to try and figure out how to flex those Lan rules. Kept his mind sharp!

Wei Wuxian was apprehensive to think of this as home. He had lost too many homes before. But as the years passed and he found himself with a place he would always be welcome... where kids laughed, where he got to be with his husband, where he got to see their son and nephew often, where Wen Ning has his own little space within walking distance... It was becoming harder and harder to resist the truth.

He’d found another home. Maybe this time, he’d get to keep it.

#wangxian #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #lan wangji #wen qing #jiang sibs #lan yuan #nhs also appears!#my fic #a answers #i hope you enjoy :D #okay this was a great break from nanowrimo #should i have taken a break? who knows!#a talks #i have stared at so many words these last weeks i hope i didn't miss horrible spelling issues

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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 4 years

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to ashes, lead me to you

Clint Barton x Reader

To Ashes, Chapter Two

Chapter Summary: you go through the files you took from clint’s house, hoping to find a lead as to where he’s gone.

Characters/Pairings: reader, eventual clint/reader

Warnings: angst, alcohol

Word Count: 1,253

marvel masterlist or CHECK OUT MY fanfic dedicated blog

prologue - 1 - 2 -

Days Since the Decimation: Sixteen

“Clint, please. I need you to call me back, okay? I’m so sorry, Clint… I’m—”

Beep.

You’d leaned forward where you sat cross-legged on the bed, tapping your phone to skip the message as a lump formed in your throat. You’d never heard Natasha sound so vulnerable before, and you weren’t sure you were ready to now. Besides, that message wasn’t meant for you, and it wasn’t going to help you now. There was no need for you to hear this… it felt too much like reading her diary. And you’d suddenly realized that as much as you sometimes felt like an outsider, you weren’t ready to know Nat this intimately.

“Barton, it’s Steve. I know Nat’s been—”

Beep.

You’d been holed up in a room at a cheap motor inn on the outskirts of the town closest to the Barton farm for almost two days. One bed – the one you’d slept in – was a tangle of drawn back blankets and crappy pillows. The other was where you sat now, surrounded by anything you might find helpful. Your laptop was on the bedside table, email open. The box you’d taken from Barton’s was on the floor beside you; half the files were spread out over the comforter as you tried to make some sense, some connection to the Clint then and the Clint you needed to find.

“Clint—” Beep. You cut off the message as soon as you heard Nat’s voice. You’d charged his phone and had found a myriad of voicemails and text left behind in the last two weeks. The text messages had proved useless – most of them on the same thread as those you’d heard so far in his voicemail, scattered among a few government alerts attempting to find out who was left after the decimation.

You’d already been brought close to tears listening to them – the message from Laura’s mother, trying to find out where her daughter and grandchildren were had had you reaching for the cheap whiskey in the minibar and dumping half of it into your coke before she’d barely spoken a minute.

A couple of files had already been tossed back in the box, but a few you’d found some potential in. There were scribbles of contact’s names from old jobs for SHIELD, as well as a few unlabeled phone numbers or just some quickly scrawled coordinates. Each note led to a rabbit hole of online research. With most of SHIELD’s database gone with the fall of the organization, you were stuck struggling through back channels. When it came to tech-heads and weapons dealers you could find them in the Stark system, but otherwise, you were struggling. Most covert operatives and informants didn’t have a huge online presence.

Almost all of the notes led to dead ends – some literally, either over the last few years or lost in the snap – but you’d managed to find a few possible leads so far.

“Hey, Barton.”

You paused, coffee halfway to your mouth and your other hand hovering over a file.

That was your voice.

You’d completely forgotten you’d called him.

Six days. Six days after the snap of Thano’s fingers you’d called Clint, half-drunk and sleep deprived. You weren’t even completely sure why you had. The two of you weren’t exactly close before all this; he’d never stuck around New York long enough for you to socialize.

***

“Hey, Barton. I don’t know if you’re getting any of these calls…” you mumbled into the phone, curled up on the floor by the window of your room. The rolling lawns of the Avengers facility were lit along pathways in the dark; everyone else had long gone to bed as far as you were aware… there was a chance Rocket or Bruce were still in the lab, but you couldn’t be sure. There was an equal chance Rocket was as drunk as you were, but he tended to get violent or insulting after too many, so you’d avoided him.

You sighed, shaking your head, your forehead pressed against the glass. It was cool against your booze-warmed face, and while your bed was only a few feet away, you couldn’t find the energy to move over to it. “I don’t even know why I’m trying. If you’re not going to pick up for Nat… well, there’s no way you’d call back for me.”

You caught sight of your reflection in the window. There were bags under your eyes, and your hair was a mess on one side from where you’d been almost compulsively running your hand through it. With a groan, you turned away from it, drawing your knees up to your chest and wrapping your free arm around them. You took a steadying breath, but you couldn’t help the lump that formed in your throat, or the way your voice cracked as you spoke again. “I just… I’m drowning her, Clint. I don’t know what to do. But I think… I think I owe you an apology.”

You shook your head, teeth in your bottom lip. “No, I… I know I do. After everything that happened in… in Wakanda… I don’t know how much you’ve heard. But I tried, I really did, but I—”

***

You skipped the message, an uncomfortable pit forming in your stomach. You’d woken up right there on the floor of your suite the next morning, with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. The next hour had you alternating between gulping water and heaving into the toilet. The only one who’d been in worse shape than you that morning was Rocket. It was no wonder you hadn’t remembered the message until now.

Your eyes drifted to the minifridge in the corner. There probably wasn’t enough in there to get you so drunk you’d temporarily forget making that phone call, but you could maybe get a buzz out of all the mini bottles tucked away in there.

Sighing, you shook the thought out of your head. That wasn’t going to help you get through all this, especially not at two in the afternoon.

***

It wasn’t for another few hours – long after you’d worn out his message bank and finished off three cups of coffee – that you’d found something that made you straighten in your seat. Your legs were aching slightly; you’d barely moved out of your cross-legged position on the bed, save for a caffeine refill.

There was a dogeared business card that had been tucked away in a file from a couple of years ago. The wear on the corners suggested it had spent a long while in someone’s wallet before it had been stored away. The rest of the papers in the file were about some agents that had gone missing after the fall of SHIELD; potential double agents carrying state secrets. Clint had been charged with putting teams together tasked with tracking them all down.

You ran your finger over the text on the card; it was for a private investigation firm on West 46th Street, back in New York. Middle of Hell’s Kitchen. It wasn’t embossed, but the card was definitely made of quality cardstock. They weren’t a high society business, but they weren’t amateurs either. It was plain, black font on white card. They didn’t put on airs. Or, maybe they just didn’t give a shit about ‘style’.

Still, they might be a lead. And it didn't just give you the business. It gave you a name.

Alias Investigations.

Jessica Jones.

damn straight, i’m gonna try my hand at writing my girl jessica in the next chapter. just you wait :)

tags: @lovely-dreamer19 @spacesuitsforemergency @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @lol-you-thought @ruderavenclaw

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devikafernando · 4 years

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Birthday One Shot for...

...my fabulous friend @tinchentitri!

I borrowed her two characters Dev and Tom to write this one shot for her, and snuck someone new in too. ;-) You can find her collection of stories with them here.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

* * *

SURPRISE

Dev bounced on the balls of her feet, swiveling her head left to check the time every few minutes.

With a chuckle, Tom wound his strong arms around her and lifted her clean off her feet to crush her against his tall body. “Quit fidgeting, love, you’ll set me off too. And we all know what a pain in the neck a nervously excited Thomas can be.”

She hit him half-heartedly, giggling despite the anticipation that made her feel so antsy. “True that. Better not set you off.”

She twisted in his hold and held up her face for a kiss, which somehow grew longer and more heated than intended.

Oh, now this was a good way to calm the nerves! She moaned softly into the kiss and felt more than heard the answering growl rumble through Tom’s chest before he put her back down.

“Careful, wouldn’t want to set off aroused-as-hell Tom either…because then setting off will lead to getting off…and there’s no time.”

His snicker made Dev roll her eyes but laugh along. She loved this insufferable goofball.

And she loved her friend Tine, who was due to arrive any minute now. The two of them hadn’t seen each other for almost a year but now Tine was finally going to spend her holiday at Dev’s inn in Ireland. And the icing on the cake? Tom was free too - as was Jamie, Tine’s boyfriend. But that was a surprise…

Dev squealed as a taxi rolled into the courtyard and revealed her tall, blonde friend with her signature leopard scarf and a huge smile. They ran to greet each other with a hug and more squeeing. Tom joined them after a minute, giving Tine a hug too. He’d met her once before and they’d immediately hit it off. In fact, it had been Tom who’d introduced Tine to Jamie, his co-star in a historical daily soap. And now the actor from Northern Ireland and the journalist from Germany were as inseparable as Dev and Tom.

The two of them started chattering animatedly as Dev shepherded her friend into the inn. She gave her a grand tour, then showed her the room.

“Of course, I booked you into the biggest and most beautiful room in the whole inn. It’s got a lake view AND a king-size bed.”

“Not that I’m gonna have a good use for that…” Tine said with a grin that faltered because she hadn’t seen Jamie in months.

Dev and Tom exchanged a look, then she squeezed her friend’s arm. “Don’t worry, we’ll be so busy catching up that you won’t have a single free minute to miss J. Now get settled, I’ll see you downstairs in a bit. Oh, and I’m sending a waiter up with your welcome drink, a complementary cup of hot chocolate.”

Tine started unpacking her suitcase, stopping every few moments to take in the breathtakingly beautiful view of the rolling green hills, a castle in the distance, and the serene lake in the foreground. This was heaven on earth for sure. If only Jamie could have joined her on this much-needed vacation after months of lockdown and health hazards…

She was about to step out of her travel clothes and have a shower when there was a knock at the door.

“Hot chocolate!” a male voice rumbled, and she caught the tantalizing scent of the beverage.

On socked feet, she walked over and opened the door - only to stand frozen, gaping like a fish out of water.

This…this was most decidedly not a waiter.

“Surpriiiiiise!”

Jamie smiled that little boy’s sunny grin of his, his eyes alight with mischief, joy, and love. He set the cup down safely a second before Tine launched herself into his arms with a gasp.

Tine breathed in his familiar scent, mingled with hot chocolate, and for the first time in months she felt whole.

“You’re mean to do this to me,” she mumbled into his comfy sweater that stretched tight across tempting muscles.

“But you love me,” Jamie answered with that lilting accent of his, pressing her even closer. “And anyway, it was Dev’s idea. She wanted this to be your birthday gift.”

“Definitely a gift.” Tine moved back just enough to cradle Jamie’s face, his beard soft and scratchy at the same time. She licked her lips and kissed him.

As soon as their lips met, everything else melted away. Their worries, their loneliness, the stress and hopes and changes. There was only them and their love, their lust.

The hot chocolate forgotten, they barely made it inside the room before Jamie backed her against the door and devoured her mouth. His hands began to roam, and they didn’t even bother removing their clothes before becoming one, too starved for this reunion.

#for a friend #writing #tom fanfic #birthday surprise #from one writer to another

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meloncholor · 4 years

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Writing Masterlist (4/7/2020 Update)

Blog Exclusive

Trevor, You’re an Idiot - Trevor and Sypha try and name their first child.

Christmas Memories (Part 1) - (Prompt) A fluffy story about Trevor, Adrian, and my Bloodborne character name Ezio giving each other simple presents for Christmas and talking about their lonely past.

Reading - Trevor Reading over Sypha’s shoulder to annoy her.

Come to Bed - Sypha is an early riser and Trevor is a lazy boi; Sypha snores and it sounds like purring

Please Put Me Down - Trevor can speak french; Sypha gets injured and Trevor has to carry her

Remembrance - Trevor opens up to Sypha emotionally.

Mi Oso - Sypha tries to teach Trevor Spanish

Dog Days - Sypha brings in a stray German Shepard because it’s scruffy and soft and it reminds her of Trevor.

Magic Spider - Trevor and Sypha have to decide who kills the spider.

Birthday With the Dirty Boy - Trevor’s birthday.

Star Children - Sypha and Trevor looking at the stars.

Winter’s Bounty - Trevor makes a cloak like his for Sypha.

Your Laugh is Funny - Sypha is ticklish.

Goodbye, I Guess - Trevor visits his parents’ graves with Alucard and Sypha.

Castlevania Mafia AU - Just what the title says.

Osito - Trevor asks why Sypha calls him that.

Birthday Girl - Trevor celebrates Sypha’s Birthday

Finish - Carmilla and Godbrand hate s*x. (Lemon)

In Bed Alone - Trevor isn’t feeling great.

A First - Elinore’s first words.

Singer - Trevor asks Sypha to sing for him.

Destino - Trevor likes Sypha’s singing.

Castlevania Warmup #1 - Elinore goes hunting.

House Call - Lisa treats a young Trevor.

How Lovely to See You Again - Vlad greets his wife (reader) when she gets home.

It’s Alright, I’m Here - You wake from a nightmare and Trevor comforts you.

Training Pains - The Belmont kids train together

No Matter the Cost - Vlad would do anything for you.

All for You - Reader and Vlad spend some quality time together.

Archive of Our Own

General

Warm - Trevor and Sypha share a moment by the fire. (Lemon)

A Snowy Relief - Sypha and Trevor have fun in the snow

Thunderstorm Blues - Sypha gets hurt by a night creature, Trevor is left to watch over her

An Unexpected Fortune - Trevor and Sypha have to share one bed at an inn. (Lemon)

A Few Drinks Together - Sypha insists on coming with Trevor to the bar. (Lemon)

A Cottage In The Woods - Alucard pays a visit to the Belmonts after a long time away.

You’re a Mean One, Ms. Carmilla - Carmilla calls on Hector when she’s bored (Lemon) (TW: R*pe/Non-con)

One Lie -Trevor nearly drinks himself into a coma

Old Friends - Trefor visits the new home of Leon Belmont

Castlevania 2185 - The gang breaks into Vlad Inc.

The Hanged Man’s Prize - You are hired by the famous crime lord Vlad Tepes, and his interests start to reach far beyond the scope of your duties. (Lemon)(Incomplete)

Hidden Charms - Alucard likes SOME things about Trevor. (Incomplete)

Grace - Trevor saves you from a witch-burning and you are left with the aftermath of what you’ve seen.

Indulgences - Trevor is a filthy dirt man who only functions on spite, even when it’s to his detriment. Alucard fixes this.

Fifty Shades of Carmilla - Hector and Carmilla have a tit for tat relationship

I’m Waiting, My Lord - Trevor Belmont is the only son of the poor noble house Belmont, he's invited into the service of King Vladimir Tepes after the death of his ailing wife and is assigned to be the retainer of Prince Adrian along with the court magician Sypha Belnades, and the Prince has plans of his own for his personal knight.

People Watching (Complete) - You and Vlad have a falling out.

Belinda and Leandra Belmont - Exploring Trevor’s parentage

Light Reading - Sypha finds a book on vagina spells.

Mother Dearest - Sypha finds a journal on Trevor’s Grandmother.

Blog Exclusives

Tone Deaf - Kyoka/Bakugo AU where they’re musicians

Seeing Stars - BNHA boys smoking weed and girls dropping acid.

Dancing Queen - Todomomo trying to learn to salsa dance.

I Didn’t Know - All Might forces Endeavor to reconnect with his family.

Torment - Students find a bottle of Aizawa’s scotch.

An Early Morning - Emi and Aizawa’s morning with Kiwa.

Please Stop Asking Me - Emi is the first to push for kids.

Bakugo’s Lament - Bakugo explains why he didn’t become a villain.

Unpolished Kiribaku Warmup - The family goes shopping.

BNHA Kyoka/Kaminari Warmup - They’re hanging out.

Little Wonders - Ochako and Izuku in their home.

Parent-Teacher Conference - Emi and Aizawa are asked to come to Kiwa’s school.

Save Me - All Might almost drowning, based on the scene from Aladdin.

A Forgotten Memory - Enji and Yagi before everything changed.

Archive of Our Own

Two Bros in a Hot Tub and They’re Definitely Gay - Kirishima visits the number 2 hero Bakugo in his expensive home (Lemon)

Mom Swap - Katsuki and Izuku switch moms, that’s it.

Mom - Mitsuki visits her son in the hospital

Tired - She hasn’t seen Shoto in a while

Is this a Porno? - Izuku doesn’t think Mei has a medical degree… (Lemon)

Holding a Vigil - Momo waits for Shoto

Alice in Wonderland - Izuku has conflicted feelings when he sees Hitoshi at a strip club. (Lemon)

A Memory Preserved - Toshinori and Enji have passed their times in the limelight, it’s time for them to finally talk about what happened.

A Knight’s Honor - Fantasy AU; Bakugo and Midoriya spar.

Blog Exclusives

Spoken through Pen Strokes - Charthur fluff.

Just a Little Bit Longer - Jovier Fluff.

Sunny Days (Part One) - Charthur Fluff

Happy Valentine’s Day Arthur - Albert pays a visit.

What Once Was - Arthur finding out about his ex-wife and son.

Dance With Me - Dutch asks Hosea to Dance.

Charthur Warmup - Pure Fluff.

Wasted Opportunity - John is an idiot.

Again? - John can’t sleep.

You’re Always A Party - Sean and Karen go on a date.

Archive of Our Own

Two Sides of the Same Coin - Albert Mason is a fool.

She’s All I’ve Got - Hosea has to save Dutch from her brothers.

Soaked to the Bone - John takes Javier fishing.

Starry-Eyed - Arthur gets distracted while Charles is tracking animals.

Blog Exclusives

Anwar and Nadia Warmup - Nadia tries serving traditional Haitian food.

Muriel and Lillian Short - She likes playing in his hair.

Trouble in Paradise - Lucio isn’t paying enough attention to Ophelia.

Noise - Lillian has a panic attack.

Another Warmup - Avina has trinkets Asra’s never seen.

Dandelion Bouquet - Julian gets an idea.

Archive of our Own

General

Mala - Lillian takes Muriel to her favorite shop, and then she meets a new friend.

A Short Reprieve - Lucio and Ophelia are late for a banquet.

Here in the Garden - Julian has to walk through the woods to get home, and on his way intrigues the interest of the woman who makes her home there.

Arcana Thirst

Let My Love Adorn You - Ophelia’s sanctuary is invaded. (Lemon)

Greeting the Sun - Anwar and Nadia spend the morning together. (Lemon)

Deviating Divination - Avina gets home late with her supplies. (Lemon)

Sanctuary - Lillian wants to give something to Muriel. (Lemon)

Be My Muse - Donovan is having an art block, Julian helps. (Lemon)

I Missed Your Warmth - Monica comes to visit Portia during a snowstorm. (Lemon)

A Nightmare’s Only Cure - Nadia has a nightmare. (Lemon)

Archive of Our Own

A Lone Sword - Alistair and Leliana have a short conversation about their leader. (Dragon Age)

Sharing - Sten wants to give the Warden a small gift for returning his sword. (Dragon Age)

Gift of a Sword - Valmiro finds out what Kadan means (Incomplete)(Dragon Age)

Romantic Philistine - Catria and Lukas sneak away from camp (Fire Emblem: Echoes)

Shhh… - Python and Forsyth forgot to be quiet. (Fire Emblem: Echoes)(Lemon)

Apples - Catria and Lukas share breakfast. (Fire Emblem: Echoes)

Black Wine and Good Times - Genji is escaping the mansion for at least a little while, he meets a stranger in a bar. (Overwatch)

Missing You - Genji finds out Jesse is coming home. (Overwatch)

Sickness - Carol is a bit unsettled when she couldn’t grant wishes for a period of time, she goes to Strange for help. (MCU)

The Entrance - Grim is waiting in jail, he gets saved by an elf and he really likes what he sees (Kingdoms of Amalur)

It Was You All Along - Geralt has to rediscover feelings after the jinn takes some away. (The Witcher)

Secret Stash - Shane is invited to a barn party. (Stardew Valley)

Spoils of Conquest - Sawyer just wants Max and Felix to get along.(Outer Worlds)

The Quietest Nights - Forsyth realizes he might miss Python. (Fire Emblem)

The Witch Who Set This Flame (Personal Favorite) - Tulma, an Altmer from a farm near Ivarstead, is contacted by the Thalmor to be an inside source on the happenings of Ulfric Stormcloak. Things don't go as planned and the Dragonborn will get justice.

Blog Exclusives

Another Geralt/Dandelion Warmup - Shameless fluff (The Witcher)

Final Defiance - Geralt fights a crudok. (The Witcher)

Spookfest 2019

Halloween Prompt #1 - Ophelia and Lucio go for a walk.

Halloween Prompt #2 - Donovan gives an autumn gift to Julian.

Halloween Prompt #3 - Symone and Elinore freak out over losing a grimoire.

Halloween Prompt #4 - Lillian has a bad habit of bringing home animals.

Halloween Prompt #5 - Izuku and Bakugo go to a haunted location.

Halloween Prompt #6 - Emi surprises Kiwa

Halloween Prompt #7 - Avina gets flustered.

Halloween Prompt #8 - Charles and Arthur go hunting.

Halloween Prompt #9 - Sam tricks Dean and Cas

Halloween Prompt #10 - Dean doesn’t realize what he’s done. (TW: Gore).

Thanksgiving 2019

Thanksgiving Prompt #1 - Anwar and Nadia Short

Thanksgiving Prompt #2 - Trevor and his Mother

Thanksgiving Prompt #3 - Elinore, Elias, and Symone Belmont

Thanksgiving Prompt #4 - Avina and Asra

Thanksgiving Prompt #5 - Clair doesn’t like eating flour.

Thanksgiving Prompt #6 - Ophelia and Lucio

Thanksgiving Prompt #8 - Leandra and Belinda

Thanksgiving Prompt #9 - Dean and Cas

Thanksgiving Prompt #10 - Geralt and Dandelion

Christmas 2019

Feliz Navidad a Los Muertos - Javier is missing what used to be his home.

Winterfest Prompt #1 - Jaskier has a habit of predicting things.

Winterfest Prompt #2 - Nadia and Anwar curl up in front of the fireplace.

Winterfest Prompt #3 - Lillian brings gifts for everyone.

Winterfest Prompt #4 - Bakugo returns home to a surprise.

Winterfest Prompt #5 - Arthur is running from bounty hunters.

Winterfest Prompt #6 - Emi and Shouta are just trying to take a picture

Winterfest Prompt #7 - Monica and Portia are baking some cookies.

Winterfest Prompt #8 - Trevor is doing something a little out of the ordinary.

Winterfest Prompt #9 - Alm has an idea to take Celica away.

Winterfest Prompt #10 - Geralt doesn’t want to ice skate with Jaskier.

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crowsent · 5 years

Text

Whumptober 2019 Isolation

Haru Okumura, Akira Kurusu, Persona 5, Isolation

Two separate fanfics this time but I put them both on one post! I hope to gods that I got Haru right bc she’s such an underappreciated character. Big thanks to @lastvalyrian for giving me the Akira Kurusu goes back to his hometown idea bc I cried at that

Isolation was the monster lurking under her bed, the beast that trailed after her with a drooling open maw, her own Damocles’ Sword, held aloft by a single hair. And in a way, the fact that she felt isolated from everyone else was a little funny.

What a silly girl you are, Haru Okumura. How silly for you to fret over such trivial matters like companionship when you had the whole world laid out before you on a silver plate. Isolation? Loneliness? Solitude? If you’re sad we can buy you new friends. Friends who will adore you and shower you with praise. Powerful friends from rich families that will further the heights of the Okumura name.

You’re so lucky to have all this money, all this fame, all this fortune, and yet you wallow in useless self-pity. Be thankful that you’re an Okumura.

Haru had friends. Fake friends with fake smiles, with honeyed words dripping with the money Father paid them to be nice to Haru. Rich sons and daughters of other conglomerate businesses that Father used as a tool to spread the Okumura family name. They agreed to everything Haru said, laughed at all her jokes, and invited her out to everything. Employees vying for her father’s favour complimented her dress, her hair, taught her how to play cat’s cradle when she was but a young child. Managers of the Big Bang Burger empire always took care in flattering her. Haru caught people around corners, laughing at the easy money just for humouring the Okumura heiress' petty desires to have someplace to belong.

Isolation, Haru thought, was the invisible cage in which she was doomed to die in.

She was always surrounded by people, but she was always alone.

And it was cold.

It was empty.

It was hollow.

All the wealth in the world couldn’t stave off the chasm inside Haru’s heart, the desire to have someone in her life, just one person, who saw her not as the rich Okumura daughter, but simply as Haru.

She waited.

She hoped.

The shoujo manga she happened to read in Shujin’s library had always said that someone would inevitably swoop in and save her from being on her own. Someone would show her that she was more than a damsel in distress, fated to walk a predetermined path. That she could live her own life without someone else’s hand moving the pieces on the board.

But no one came.

Father had arranged for her to marry the son of a wealthy politician. She, too, had become a tool to further his own ambitions.

No one came.

“I’ll be fine.” Haru nodded decisively. “Everything’s going to be okay Haru.” She gently stroked the tomato’s leaves. It had grown so much, rising up despite being in a cramped planter. “Don’t worry about me, okay?” The tomato did not speak. Haru continued to gently brush her fingers over the leaves.

She was in her last year of highschool now. The shoujo manga she had read when she first came into Shujin was long forgotten. A distant memory. She couldn’t even recall what it was about anymore.

The tomato plant was still green, not yet ready for harvesting. Haru hoped she had enough time over the coming weeks to care for it properly. “Shibuya’s a lot safer now that that mafia boss turned himself in. The Phantom Thieves are amazing, aren’t they?”

Silence.

“I wish they would answer my request too…”

Her phone pinged.

A text.

Haru’s smile thinned. “I have to go now. I’m sorry for leaving you in such a quiet place.” The rooftop was silent and the plants which Haru had cared for had to wait. “I wish I could stay here longer.” The text was from Sugimura. Haru didn’t want to go. She had no choice.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can, okay?”

She stood up, wiping the dirt from her hands onto her gym tracksuit. Her plants did not answer, but they were all that Haru had. The rooftop was the only place she felt less alone. Her plants; the tomatoes and carrots, the bougainvilleas and lilies, were the only reason she held on. The only things in her life that brought colour to her grey existence. If she was fated to walk a path someone else had chosen for her, she wanted to at least see flowers blooming at the edges.

Her heart was empty.

Haru walked by a pair of giggling girls on her way out from Shujin.

Haru walked alongside a crowd on her way back home.

She was surrounded by people.

She had never felt more alone.

====

It wasn’t the same.

The gas station was still there, still manned by a single overworked attendant with dead fish eyes and a tired smile frozen on their lips. The school was still there, still tiny and still filled with gossip over every little insignificant thing that happened around town. The cats on the floodplain were still there, the large Department Store was still there, the historical Amagi Inn was still there.

Nothing changed about Inaba. It was still the sleepy old town Akira remembered it to be. His house was still crammed in the residential district. The old couple who lived across from him gave him clipped greetings. Rumours of his arrest, his second arrest as a rebellious thief had spread just as fast as he expected it to. His parents weren’t home.

Nothing changed about Akira’s hometown during his year in Tokyo.

But it didn’t feel the same.

Not anymore.

He shut the front door of his parents’ home with a sigh and stalked over to the living room couch where he collapsed on the cushion with a soft thud. Morgana wiggled his way out of Akira’s bag and onto the couch. “This is your home?” Akira turned face-up so he could watch Morgana’s whiskers twitch and his tail swish around as he peered curiously at Akira’s family home. At the white countertops, at the boring beige sofa, at the obsessively clean space. “It’s quite different from the chief’s attic.”

Akira laughed at that. Though it was a much quieter sound, now. Anything too loud in this too quiet house sounded deafening. “Aren’t you glad not to live in an attic, Morgana?” Akira scratched Morgana behind the ears. Morgana’s tail curled up in delight and his eyes shut with a soft purr. “It’s a lot better than Sakura’s attic, isn’t it?”

Morgana’s eyes opened. For some reason, Akira didn’t like the look his cat gave him. “Do you really think that?”

Of course, Akira wanted to say. Here he was, back home, his actual home. Back in his hometown where whispers about his criminal past would always trail after him like a cape, where his parent’s house was devoid of any character and life, where Akira would have to come back to a quiet building because his mother worked the night shift as the receptionist in the hospital and his father didn’t bother doing anything but drink beer from the fridge when he came home most nights.

He had his old room back. A spartan square room with only a bed and a dresser. Without the potted plant he’d come to love, without the decorations and gifts his friends had given him, without the work desk where he spent hours meticulously crafting tiny knicknacks together. It was a fairly large house that had everything he could possibly need; a nice bathroom with a large tub, a fancy new tv unlike the tiny box he had in Sakura’s attic, a lot of space where he would spend the rest of his life alone.

Without his friends.

Without freshly made curry given to him with a smile.

Without someone to say “welcome back” as soon as he opens the door.

“Joker?” Morgana shimmied away from Akira’s hand, walking on his chest to look at him properly. He nudged Akira’s cheek with a paw. “Hey. Joker. Akira. Are you okay?”

Thankfully, Morgana didn’t mention the fact that Akira’s face was wet with tears. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Akira croaked. He wrapped Morgana in a half-assed hug. Morgana’s tail traced patterns on his forearms. “I’m back home. I’ll be going back to school where you can’t come with me because you can’t fit in the space underneath the desks here. All of my friends are still in Tokyo and I have to live the rest of my life here listening to everyone else mumbling shit about me when they think I can’t hear!” A sigh. Akira’s hands running through Morgana’s fur, trembling. “I’m fucking fine.”

It felt like yesterday when Akira stumbled into Shibuya, wide-eyed and confused, lost. Staring at the cars zooming by and the bright lights and the allure and danger of a strange city. It felt like it was only yesterday when he and Ryuji stumbled upon a lavish castle, when Ann cried and broke down in front of him at some random diner because of Kamoshida’s persistence, when Morgana first came into his life and taught him how to be a phantom thief.

It felt like he had met Makoto only a day ago, when she trailed him all over Shibuya with a flimsy magazine like that would stop her from getting noticed, when she vowed to stop Kaneshiro with them all. It felt like Haru came to him to ask for help with differentiating coffee beans only a few hours ago, when they planted flowers together on Shujin’s rooftop, when she annulled her engagement with Sugimura and gave Akira the biggest smile he had ever seen. It felt like it was only a few minutes ago when he met Sakura, Chihaya, Yoshida, Shinya, Iwai, Mishima, and all the other people who had made his life worth living.

It felt like he had met Yusuke for the first time only a few seconds ago. When Yusuke dragged Akira all over Tokyo in pursuit of true beauty. When Yusuke proudly gave him ‘Desire and Hope’ with their fingers brushing against each other. When Yusuke softly requested for Akira to keep smiling until he was able to capture it on canvas. When Yusuke gave him a tearful smile at the train station as Akira was bound to leave.

A year was not enough.

A year would never be enough.

It’s not enough.

The box of things Akira had from Tokyo sat near the door. He couldn’t bring everything. His room was nowhere big enough to display all that his friends had given him and his parents would never allow such “unsightly” decoration around the house. At least they agreed to let Akira hang the painting from “a famous artist” by the living room. Something to give the white nothingness of the house a little bit of colour.

Morgana stayed quiet as Akira wiped his tears away. “At least I have you Morgana. You’ll stay with me, right?”

A purr, Morgana doing his damnedest to snuggle into Akira’s neck. “Hmph. You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.”

“I would never! Unless you try to steal my food. Then you’re gonna be living in the streets.” Morgana giggled. Having fur around his neck was ticklish.

The house was too quiet. There was no smell of coffee in the air, or the white noise of a television. He should unpack his things. He’d finish his last year of highschool at Yasogami and he’d have to enroll himself. Again. Not like anyone was going to come with him. Too busy. Not enough time. You’re already a problem child so don’t you dare think of being a burden on us even more. It was deadly quiet, at least, until his parents would come home.

At least he still had the headphones Futaba gave him. When his parents begin yelling at each other, he can block them out.

Pretend that his parents gave a shit about him.

Pretend that he was back in Tokyo.

Pretend that he wasn’t going to spend this year alone.

#whumptober 2019 #whumptober2019 #persona #persona 5 #p5 #akiras hometown is inaba and you can fucking pry that headcanon from my cold dead fingers #no.7

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puppetwritings · 5 years

Text

Delicate Little Bird || Mingyu

Word Count: 5083

Genre: one-shot, immortals AU, request, fantasy, angst

Summary: Sometimes, things are better left buried in the past, along with the dead.

———

Request: You should write a fantasy type scenario about mingyu. Like a ghoul or ghost or the typical cliche vampire. But a more mature one and dark but too dark or fluffy.Idk anyways I love your writings keep going💕💕💕💕

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Warning: blood, death, disfigurement (burning)

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Your breathing was growing shallower as you pushed through the rain and stumbled deeper into the dark forest. Your ears still rang with the outraged cries and the feeling of flames licking your skin. You shuddered as you remembered the smell of your own flesh and the sight of the charred black skin. Luckily, it had rained and after a short struggle, you had freed yourself.

As your eyes settled on the cave in front of you, you realized that you hadn’t thought much about your situation. You had lost consciousness and when you woke up you were tied and were being burned. Anything before that was a blurred mist. You vaguely remember living somewhere bright and peaceful but then you also remembered suffering through great darkness. The details were fuzzy, but you had a feeling that you had chosen to forget.

You took a wobbly step into the cave and immediately looked around, scanning for any signs of trouble. Your eyes fell on the bottle.

In any story, if there was a suspicious item on the floor, your first instinct, as the reader, would be to think “Stay away from that”—especially when “that” sat by itself, surrounded by nothing. It was obviously a trap. Something would happen if you picked up this singular, suspicious item from the floor. But do the main characters ever listen? No. They were compelled by the storyline to pick up this item and throw their life into chaos.

As if your life wasn’t in enough chaos and you craved more, you were suddenly compelled to pick up this bottle.

You stepped forward.

You knelt down.

Your hand stretched out…and you picked it up.

Just at that moment, there was a flash of lightening and a clap of thunder!...How cliché is that?

Frightened by the sudden light and the sudden sound, the bottle tumbled from your hand and fell back onto the floor. You inhaled sharply, staring at the bottle and waiting for some terribly disgusting creature to slither out of it and eat you!

The truth of it was, the monster inside the bottle wasn’t that stupid. He had been in rudely shoved into such a small space and after several thousand years, finally encountered someone dumb enough to pick him up. How could he so rudely startle his benefactor?

By picking him up and awaking him, this monster was now allowed to freely leave the bottle. No catch, no gimmicks. This just meant that whatever force was up there had decided his punishment was over. But this monster hadn’t learned his lesson. His punishment may be over, but that didn’t mean the hatred that had been brewing in his heart was. He had only killed a few humans; did that really deserve such a harsh punishment? The monster scoffed to himself and shook his head. No. It didn’t.

Now, the person who broke the seal on his bottle was quite powerful. Or at least they were special. But they didn’t seem to know who he was or what he was so, perhaps, he could use them…

Thinking this far, the monster slowly snaked his way out of the bottle and before you was a mass of dark clouds, similar to the ones in the sky outside.

You took one look and wanted to faint.

However, slowly, the black mass shifted and churned and took the form of a tall, handsome young man. The young man stared down at you with warm brown eyes and a cocked eyebrow. He was dressed neatly in clothes fit for a young master and his lips were pressed in a thin line, as if displeased, but then he revealed an enchanting smile.

“You touched the bottle?”

You nodded without thinking.

The smile grew, causing you to shiver. The young man stepped forward as you scooted back and he knelt down. “What do you wish for?”

“W-what?”

“I asked for your wish. Your deepest desire,” the young man said. He jabbed a finger in your direction. “You saved me, so now I will grant you a wish.”

You tried to focus your stare on him but it was futile. Your vision began to swim in and out and his voice was slowly fading. You tried to focus, but you couldn’t.

The young man raised an eyebrow, noticing your predicament. He reached out but you only pushed his hand away. “If I don’t touch you, I can’t help you?”

Your burned features contorted into an ugly expression as you spat, “I don’t want your help, you demonic creature.”

The young man’s eyes brightened as his somewhat gentle smile curled into one of displeasure. “Me? Demonic?...Child, you don’t seem to know what a demonic creature is like. Shall I educate you?”

You glared at him resolutely, even when the young man stood and walked forward. Thunder accompanied his steps but when you were finally unable to move and he was finally in front of you, you had already lost consciousness.

The young man knelt down and bit into his finger. A bead of blood surfaced and he reached out, spreading it onto your forehead. With a satisfied smile, the young man drew back. “Now, Y/N, I, Mingyu, am now bound to you. Let’s serve each other well.”

You did not hear these loathsome words and you were completely unaware of what had just happened.

The bottle that had previously contained Mingyu turned to dust and when you woke up, you were lying in the bed of an inn.

Your eyes widened and you sat up. Had it all been a dream? This lovely hope was immediately crushed when that hateful voice simply said “Oh, you’re up”. You froze and turned slowly, your gaze venomous as you looked at Mingyu.

Mingyu only smiled, revealing a pair of pointed canines, as he held up a plate of breakfast. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be awake but I ordered two anyway. Aren’t I kind?”

“Why are you still here?”

“How rude, not even a thank you? Or a good morning?”

You continued to glare at him.

Mingyu hummed, raising an eyebrow as his head tilted to the side. “Seems…as though humans have forgotten manners these past thousand years. Civilization has truly regressed. How disappointing.”

“Why should I be polite to a monster?”

“Monsters aren’t beings? Monsters don’t have rights?” Mingyu countered. His smile returned, wickeder than before, “And do you think monsters became monsters because they wanted to?”

You shuddered at the smile and shrank further into the bed.

Mingyu’s smile softened, though the venom remained in his eyes. He stood and handed you the plate of food. “Come on, eat. Humans still need to eat, don’t they?”

“I don’t want to eat food you give me.”

“I haven’t poisoned it.”

“How would I know?”

Mingyu thought for a moment. No, you did make a good point. How would you know? It wasn’t like you were awake when someone came by with the food. If Mingyu voluntarily ate some, you might still be suspicious if you thought about how Mingyu was a powerful monster that was immune to poison. And then, Mingyu came up with a good point.

“What reason do I have to poison you?”

You looked surprised at this question.

“We have never met before and you actually saved me,” Mingyu reasoned. Upon seeing your unconvinced look, Mingyu sighed as he sat back down. “Just because I’m a monster, does not mean I lack manners like you humans do. If someone wrongs me, I’ll definitely pay them back, but if someone helped me, I wouldn’t be so rude to stab them when they aren’t looking. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Makes sense…it did make sense. You stared contemplatively at the breakfast before slowly taking a bite.

“See? How nice is it to trust someone a little?” Mingyu grinned confidently in the face of your glare. “Now, let’s introduce ourselves. My name is Mingyu, what is yours?”

You didn’t answer.

“Mm, I see, you’re too hungry and too distracted by your food to answer. That’s fine,” Mingyu sighed as he nibbled elegantly on his own breakfast. “I’ll forgive you. I will wait until you’re done eating to hear your answer.”

Of course, Mingyu already knew your name. Asking was just a form of formality. If he suddenly called out to you when you didn’t give him your name, it would arouse suspicion. If you continued to refuse to give him your name, he could only make up a stupid nickname for you like…like…little birdie. The nickname caused Mingyu to recall some unpleasant times in his past but he felt that it suited you. You were annoying. Just like the last little birdie.

You never gave your name in the end.

Thus, whenever Mingyu needed your attention, he would disgustingly chirp “Little birdie” until you turned your hateful gaze to him.

On the third day that you two were together, Mingyu sorted through his list of questions that he had continuously cycled through within these past 36 hours and arrived at one he hadn’t asked for about half the day.

“Little birdie,” Mingyu’s voice reached your ears and your brows immediately furrowed. You continued to ferociously scrub at your clothes.

Mingyu frowned when you didn’t react. He decided to try again. “Little birdie.”

Your scrubbing became more motivated.

“Little birdie, what is your wish?”

The only answer Mingyu got was the sound of splashing water as you took out your frustration onto your clothes.

“Come on, little birdie, we both know I won’t be leaving any time soon. You may as well utilize me. I’m very powerful you know.”

Mingyu’s eyes closed as he was suddenly soaked in water.

“Don’t stand too close to the river; you’ll get wet,” you said simply.

No matter how close Mingyu was standing, there was no reason for the water to reach his face when he was standing tall like this. It was deliberate.

Instead of snapping, Mingyu merely smiled and took a few steps back.

Endure. He had to endure. If he didn’t endure and he accidentally killed you, he wouldn’t be able to find out how you were able to free him and how you were connected with the old little birdie.

The rest of noon was spent in silence.

Mingyu occasionally glanced at you but otherwise mindlessly built little huts out of twigs he found lying around. Soon, you forgot about his presence and began to ponder about what you would do next, when Mingyu impolitely reminded you that he still existed. Your face clouded over.

“Why that expression?” Mingyu raised an eyebrow. “I’m only asking you when we’ll be moving again.”

“Won’t be.”

“Won’t be? Little birdie, do you want to become a forest person? Look at how tattered and dirty you are already—you’ll scare someone to death and then you’ll be thrown into jail before getting a death sentence,” Mingyu said.

You glared at him but Mingyu stayed, unflinching.

What choice did you have? You saw your reflection in the river just now while you were washing your clothes. Even you jumped a little at your appearance.

Before, you could be considered good looking. You had attractive, delicate features comparable to the soft clouds. Just one look at you and strangers would find that you were warm and trustworthy. Now, your features were obscured by the terrible burn marks. That, coupled with the scars all over your body, it would make someone wonder what had happened and, even if you were friendly, they would want to stay miles away.

Although your appearance had been marred, you were still grateful that you seemed to heal at a fast rate. You were secretly wondering if it was because of something Mingyu did, but you didn’t ask.

Good thing you didn’t, because you would be severely disappointed and the only amount of goodwill Mingyu built up because of this misunderstanding would be crushed.

Mingyu also felt that it was weird. The burns on you were obviously fresh, yet they didn’t fester and they only healed quickly. Not only that, they had even started to fade. You were obviously not a regular human being. Perhaps, you had ended up in this state because the villagers found out and had attempted to kill you.

On this subject, Mingyu never asked. It wasn’t that he wasn’t curious, but you barely allowed him to walk within three meters of you. He knew if he brought up this incident, you would surely throw a fit and lose the last of your patience with him.

So, Mingyu didn’t ask.

Mingyu endured.

It was odd. Before, people had to endure Mingyu but now Mingyu had to endure himself. Oh, how the times have changed.

“We’re really going to stay in the forest?” Mingyu’s voice shattered the peace that had carried on for three weeks.

You looked up from the grilling fish and nodded.

“You’re not tired of this? There’s no shelter here.”

“There’s the cave.”

“Well, there isn’t a bed and there aren’t blankets.”

“Go get them yourself if you want them so bad.”

“I already went to get toiletries. You should be the one that goes,” Mingyu said, his eyes narrowing in displeasure.

You only blankly stared at him before turning back to the fish. It was properly grilled.

Mingyu scoffed, crossing his arms and turning his head away. “Well, if you freeze to death, don’t blame me. I, for one, am perfectly fine.”

“I am also perfectly fine.”

“I know, I know, you humans are…what’d you say?”

“I am also perfectly fine.”

Mingyu stared at you and your thick face before shaking his head. “Perfectly fine? You? You’re a human. How could you be perfectly fine? It’s autumn—nearly winter now! You’re only wearing a set of summer clothes. And you’re telling me you’re perfectly fine?”

You pulled the fish off the little stand you had made and blew on it. “But I am. Whether you believe me or not is up to you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Up to you.”

Mingyu frowned and turned away before strolling over and crouching down. He jabbed a finger towards the fish. “Where’s mine?”

“You don’t need to eat.”

“I don’t, but it smells good.”

“Want a bite?”

Mingyu’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Eat from your fish? With your saliva?”

“I haven’t even bitten into it.”

Mingyu looked at you with dissatisfaction and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t want then don’t ask.”

“Fine, I’ll take a bite,” Mingyu said, acting as if you had been the one that begged him to try your cooking.

Showing great reluctant, Mingyu took a bite of the fish. He hummed in approval and passed it back to you. “I guess it’s good.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice filled with exaggerated gratitude.

Mingyu only tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement and sat back down under the tree. After a moment, his eyes glazed over and he was staring off into the distance in a daze. The bantering and bickering reminded him of a certain person.

It had been thousands of years.

Mingyu may be immortal, but his memory wasn’t good. The image of the person slowly deteriorated over time, no matter how hard Mingyu tried to cling onto it out of hatred. Through his freshly boiled hatred, Mingyu had been determined to remember this person that had betrayed him and personally stuffed him in the bottle. It had been all for naught and Mingyu was only left with vague forms of memories that had warmed him during his imprisonment but had, at the same time, continuously shattered his heart.

Night fell and day came. Their routine continued like this for another month and Mingyu had fallen into a lull. What was his original objective? Get close to you? Well, he had done that. But what was next again?...Kill you? Use you to find that person?

Within these two months, Mingyu had slowly lost motivation for petty things like that. Though it had been his sole reason for his stubborn survival, Mingyu now thought that it was pointless. What was wrong with now? He liked it like this. Sometimes he would steal a bite of your fish and other times he would come back with an animal he hunted for you. He would even travel to a nearby village and slowly started furnishing the cave you guys stayed in. Of course, it was still a far cry from a house, but you two found it livable enough.

Mingyu even became curious about you. So, he asked questions. Your answers were often vague but when he brought up your predicament before the two of you met, you would always answer with three words “I don’t know”.

At first, Mingyu thought that it had been something like him where he had been mercilessly betrayed by the person he trusted. Over time, Mingyu realized you truly meant it. You didn’t know. You couldn’t remember.

“Aren’t you curious about me?” Mingyu asked one day as you washed your clothes.

“Not at all.”

“We’ve known each other for nearly three months, but you haven’t asked a single question.”

“There is nothing to ask if I am not interested.”

“Try to be a little interested.”

“Why?”

“Because we live together.”

“No one forced you to live here. If you want to leave, you can leave,” you replied. Your words weren’t meant to be venomous, but they were so blunt it still hurt a little.

“You are forcing me to live here.”

“What? I haven’t.”

“A stupid human like you living in a big forest like this—how could I just leave you here. Besides, you haven’t told me your wish. I am not someone who eats without paying, so I’m going to stay here until you tell me your wish.”

“Well, then, I suppose you will stay here forever.”

“I suppose I will.”

You looked up and held Mingyu’s gaze for awhile before turning back to the clothes and silently returning to your task.

Mingyu huffed and picked up a stone, tossing it back into the river.

“Why were you stuck in a bottle?”

Mingyu was just in the middle of throwing another rock when you asked. The rock lamely splashed right in front of his feet and sunk to the bottom. “What did you say?”

“Never mind.”

“No, no, uh,” Mingyu thought a moment before he answered. “I did something wrong.”

“Something wrong?”

“Killed some humans.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Mingyu echoed the singular question and his brows furrowed. Why…he did not remember.

“You don’t remember.”

“Give me a moment,” Mingyu said, glaring at you. His thumb rubbed against the particularly smooth stone in his hand as he delved into his memories. Why…? Well, it was because…

“Because…they killed someone I cared about.”

“A lover?”

“No, more like a sister.”

“Why was she killed?”

Mingyu looked at you thoughtfully. “Because they found out she was different so they killed her. Just like how they tried to do with you.”

“I see.”

There was a pause.

“Did you successfully kill them?”

“I did.”

“Good.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened. For some reason, hearing that response felt wrong to him. He felt that you should be reprimanding him, not agreeing with him.

“People like that—humans like that—they don’t deserve to live,” you said.

“No…well…”

“You don’t agree?” you turned to look at him with icy eyes.

“I do.”

“Then why are you stuttering.”

“I just…feel that you’ve changed.”

“I’ve changed?”

“Yeah, you—” Mingyu stopped himself. You haven’t changed at all. He didn’t know you before. You had always been like this from the moment he spoke to you. Yet, why did he feel that you had changed?

“I haven’t changed,” you replied with indifference before shaking the water from your clothes and standing to hang them up.

“Right.”

Mingyu watched as you shook the clothes several times before hanging them up on the line that you had made Mingyu make. It was a simple gesture, but it made you seem so elegant.

Mingyu smiled as the present scene faded and he was faced with another person, kicking themselves of the ground and elegantly plucking a peach from the tree. The person turned, their eyes clear and sparkling, as they held up the peach. The person smiled and Mingyu looked at their face but…but nothing.

“You okay?”

“Huh?”

“If you’re okay, then don’t stare at me.”

Mingyu nodded absentmindedly and moved back to his tree. He kicked off the ground and landed softly on a higher branch. He leaned back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes, his lips pressed into a firm line.

Their smile…those eyes…he remembered them so clearly. But the face…

If he was going to be completely honest, within the last hundred years, Mingyu had not thought of this person. The face was gone, so why would he dwell on those memories? Thousands of years was a long time and after a while, even the most powerful person would lose hope of ever being released. Why would he worry about revenge when even this sort of thing was uncertain?

But now, after spending some time with you, he felt the familiar itch in his heart. He started to struggle to remember that person’s face again. This time, it wasn’t out of hatred or anger, it was out of longing.

He missed them.

You noticed the slight shift in Mingyu’s attitude. Whenever you weren’t engaged with banter with him, he’d stare off. Sometimes, when you looked up, Mingyu would be staring at you intensely and only noticed after a few minutes that you were staring back. Your mouth itched to ask him what was his deal, but you never did. For some reason, you didn’t want to know.

It was one of those days where Mingyu sat in a daze in a tree. You didn’t bother him and Mingyu eventually drifted have. He fell back into the familiar dream of that person, happily presenting him with a peach. This time, the dream continued.

The person walked over, tossing the peach haughtily. “How’s that for someone short?”

“Impressive, impressive!” Mingyu found himself saying as he laughed loudly and clapped. “Fluttering around like a delicate little bird—you’re truly impressive! But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still short!”

The person’s delicate face became distorted and they glared at him. “Kim Mingyu, I may be short but I’m a much better fighter than you!”

“Oh, right, you had to learn how to fight super well so taller opponents wouldn’t overpower—OUCH!”

The person laughed as Mingyu stumbled back several times and eventually fell down onto his butt. Keeled over, the person pointed at Mingyu and gasped for breath. “Y-you—you look so stupid!”

Mingyu’s face grew dark and he stood up, dusting himself off. A mischievous look crossed his face and he reached out his hands. “We’ll see who looks stupid in a second.”

The person’s eyes widened and they took a step back. “D-don’t you dare—”

Mingyu smirked and lurched forward. You howled with laughter as his fingers tickled you. You were weak against his attacks and your attempts to push him off were futile. You could only laugh helplessly as tears filled your eyes.

“Mingyu, get off of them,” a low, mellifluous voice sounded behind Mingyu. Mingyu turned and gaped at the woman behind him.

The person below him beamed and shoved Mingyu off before running behind the woman. “Hyerin! Mingyu’s bullying me again! Did you see that?”

Hyerin nodded, patting the younger person’s head. She turned back to Mingyu. “Mingyu, why did you do that?”

“I—they kicked me!”

“Why did you kick him?” Hyerin turned back to the person.

“Mingyu called me short!”

“I only stated the facts,” Mingyu said, turning his nose upwards.

“Mingyu.”

Hyerin’s gently scolding voice caused Mingyu’s head to bow. The person grinned triumphantly but Hyerin turned on them. “And you. Don’t go kicking people.”

The person rolled their eyes but nodded under Hyerin’s gaze.

She smiled and ruffled the hair of both boys. “Good. Go play.”

The two were teenagers at this point, so being talked to like children made them both protest. In the end, they did run off to play again.

The scenes shifted and warped and changed and when the cleared again, Mingyu was several years older. His face was stained with tears and for a moment, he was confused. Where was he? What…seeing that person standing in front of him, he remembered.

In that person’s arms was the older girl that had looked after them. Her body was limp, like a rag doll, and her beautiful brown hair was matted with blood. Her face that used to be like a pristine jade was now bruised and scarred. Her arm was twisted oddly. Her ankle was swelled. She wasn’t breathing.

Mingyu stumbled forward as Hyerin was gently placed on the bed as if she were only sleeping. Mingyu’s trembling hands reached out and he touched her skin that had turned cold.

“This…how did this happen…”

“Someone accused her of seducing her husband. Another carried on and accused her of being a witch. The conclusion was that she was a demon,” the person reported, their voice low and barely audible.

“Why didn’t she fight back?” Mingyu asked, his hands cradling hers gently. He was afraid she would return to dust. “She could have. We’re more powerful than mortals.”

“That doesn’t mean we should abuse our powers,” the person said, glaring at Mingyu. “Hyerin didn’t fight back because she didn’t want to harm them. She’s a being above them, to harm mortals would be a sin—”

“So, falsely accusing an innocent person of seducing her husband isn’t?! So, accusing a good person of being a witch and a demon isn’t?!” Mingyu jumped up from where he had knelt and spun to face the person behind him. His eyes had turned red with anger and his pupils slower formed slits. “That’s just the foolish humans trying to get rid of her! That’s killing! Is that not a sin?! She would not have sinned if she acted out of defense for herself! But instead she took it like—like an idiot. And now she’s dead.”

“Mingyu, don’t be disrespectful.”

“She’s dead! How would she know if I’m disrespectful?!” Mingyu shouted. “People like us—no! Creatures like us?! We don’t get to reincarnate! Once we die our souls crumble and we disappear. She won’t be able to hear me from beyond anyway!”

“Kim Mingyu, shut up!”

“Don’t you understand, Y/N?!” Mingyu continued, his eyes turned crazed as he took a step forward. His canines grew sharper. “We aren’t like them. And humans are so fearful and foolish, they would never accept us.”

“Mingyu, listen to yourself. You’re getting corrupted,” the person took a step back, their eyes growing large as they spoke with a trembling voice.

“So, what if I get corrupted?” Mingyu asked, his voice deep and low as his eyes narrowed. “I’m tired of living like some scum of earth. We didn’t want to be like this. We didn’t ask for this. Who declared humans to be the rulers of all race?! We’re superior! We’re stronger. Yet, why do we have to bow to them and act as if we’re one of them?”

“Kim Mingyu—”

“If they’re so powerful and mighty, see if they can fend for themselves,” Mingyu said, a wicked smile sprouting on his lips.

“Mingyu, you can’t! We’re immortals, we can’t do this! You’ll become corrupt if you do!”

“So, I’ll become corrupt! I don’t care even if I become a demon,” Mingyu’s hand tightly gripped the person’s wrist and he pulled them closer. His warm breath fanned that person’s face as his lips spread into an ugly smirk. “If you’re so worried, then see if you can stop me.”

In the next moment, the person was shoved back and Mingyu had disappeared.

When this person found Mingyu again, the boy who normally dressed in white was dressed in red. The village that had only began prospering, perished overnight.

---------

The same face.

Mingyu’s eyes opened to see the person he had been longing for. His hands reached out and pulled you into his chest. Your face had become disfigured, but that didn’t matter. You were still you. All the hatred he harbored for thousand years disappeared as he cradled you.

“I’m sorry. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done it. I should have listened to you.”

Your blinked dumbly, your lips parted slightly. You raised your hand and awkwardly patted Mingyu’s shoulder. “This…isn’t that big of a deal.”

“What?”

“It’s not my clothes. I don’t care if you don’t hang them up to dry. I was only thinking that it’d get dirty again if you just leave them on the ground. I didn’t expect you to overreact like this.”

“Oh.”

You stepped back and straightened your clothes before vaguely waving at the pile. “You should wash it again.”

“I should.”

You nodded once and started to walk off but then you stopped. You turned around and looked at Mingyu. “Hey, tree.”

Mingyu froze and his eyes widened. He slowly looked up at you.

“I forgive you. I’m sorry too.”

Mingyu’s mouth opened and closed, unable to conjure up words.

You rolled your eyes and walked away, going to the river to cook.

It had been a total of six months since you two had met. After the first three, you had began to recover your memories. At first, it was painful but eventually it wasn’t. You remembered Mingyu far before he remembered you but you never said anything. You waited for his hatred to wear down. You didn’t know when it would be, but you knew when it happened, you would want to apologize. Mingyu hadn’t been wrong but you were also correct. The punishment had been dealt out and you ran into an event that proved that Mingyu was correct. This could be considered an even score.

Your following days continued peacefully. You and Mingyu never talked about it.

The most the two of you acknowledged this event was when you two traveled a short distance to an abandoned ghost town twice a year. There, deep in the forest behind the ghost town, was a clear blue lake and beside that lake was a gravestone that stood proud and elegantly.

Aside from that, the past was buried along with the dead and not a word was spoken again by the living.

#mingyu fanfic #mingyu scenario #mingyu fanfiction #mingyu #mingyu scenarios #seventeen #seventeen scenario #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfiction

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 5 years

Text

Affairs of the Heart - Chapter 5

Our last chapter! Thank you for joining me on this journey - I’ve so enjoyed this little story! Never fear though - this is only the first story in a planned series set in this universe under the umbrella ‘Hardy Investigations’. Story #2 eta: 2020.

Many thanks to @stupidsatsuma for her beta’ing! Y’all have NO IDEA how much she puts up with me, haha.

General warnings: mature content, occasional language. (Canon[ish]) Cheating by secondary characters.

Masterlist

Summary

September 1948 - Mrs. Mark Latimer hires Hardy Investigations to find out if her husband is having an affair, requiring some duplicity and ingenuity to find the truth as they go undercover.

They raced for the car, Ellie beating him there and climbing into the driver’s seat. “Come on!”

“Where do you think she went?” he asked rhetorically. “She could’ve gone for a walk.”

“Car was gone. I know where she’s headed.” She peeled out onto the road, speeding through town to the High Street where Trader’s was situated.

Alec glanced at her in confusion. “You think she went to confront Becca?”

“Without a doubt. If Mark’s there I’m sure he’ll get an earful, but she’ll blame the mistress.”

Pulling into the lot at the hotel she ran towards the front entrance, Alec's long legs easily outpacing her. Even as she opened the door the sound of glass smashing was audible. He pushed in front of her as they entered, throwing an arm out to keep her behind him.

A tiny bar sat just off the main lobby, and this was where Mrs. Latimer was trashing the place. “He’s my husband!” she yelled, throwing another wine glass at the floor. Becca Fisher was cowering in the corner with the local reverend, and the irate wife had made quite a mess for having only a minute or two’s head start.

“What the hell’s going on here?” Mark Latimer burst into the room, not paying Alec and Ellie any attention as he caught sight of his wife. Going stock still for only a moment, he moved forward carefully as one would approach a wounded wild animal. “Beth? What’re you doing?”

“You! You bastard!” She threw a brandy snifter at his head, which he ducked easily. “How could you? How could you do this to me! To our children! You selfish, arrogant, brute of a wanker!” Out of glasses to throw Mrs. Latimer sagged to her knees, tears running down her cheeks. “I loved you. Why wasn’t I enough?”

“Oh, Beth.” Still moving slowly he crouched in front of her, resting his hand on her back for only a moment before she shrugged it off. “Sweetheart-”

“Don’t.” Her head snapped up, righteous fury burning in her gaze. “Don’t you dare. You’ve made a fool of me!”

“You’re making a fool of yourself,” Becca ventured, untwisting from where she huddled in the debris. “You’re the one throwing a fit in a public space.”

Mrs. Latimer let out a primal scream, turning as she rose and lunged at the other woman. Her husband caught her round the waist and held her back, even as she tried to kick and flail her way free.

“How’d you even know?”

“I hired a detective to follow you,” she snarled.

Mr. Latimer and Becca’s eyes met before they both slowly turned to look at Alec and Ellie lingering in the doorway, Ellie waving sheepishly when they were spotted.

“Mrs. Latimer, please?” Alec spoke quietly, gesturing. “Can you join us in the other room?”

Sniffling the woman nodded, shaking free of her husband’s grip and taking a moment to straighten her skirt and spine, holding her head high as she stepped carefully around the glass. As soon as she was near enough Ellie wrapped her arm around her shoulders, guiding her across the lobby to the library.

Once they were in Alec shut the doors, affording them a semblance of privacy as the women sat on the loveseat together.

“I’m so glad you took that well,” Ellie started conversationally, “I was worried you might fly off the handle.”

That earned her a laugh and a sniffle, as Mrs. Latimer wiped her eyes. “I was overcome with rage.”

“I understand, but you realize why this was a terrible idea, no?” Alec settled on the coffee table in front of the women, sighing softly. “I assure you, we both are intimately familiar with the pain you’re feeling right now. But the best thing you can do, for yourself and your children, is pull it together. If you’re going to leave him, do it. If not, find a way past this, but know that if he did it once he’ll do it again.”

“How did you find out?” The grieving woman looked up from where she stared at her hands. “I mean, you didn’t give me many details. What- How long-”

Ellie patted her forearm reassuringly. “We found out where and when they would meet, and put ourselves in their path. Obviously they didn’t know who we were, and were quite willing to share a number of personal details. After, we followed them to the bluff where we took the photos.”

“What did you do?” Mrs. Latimer turned to Ellie, eyes pleading.

“How do you mean?”

“I presume your husband- well, he said-”

Ellie swallowed harshly; though the pain had faded, the memory still ached. “Yes. He was working in London during the war as a medic, and… found comfort in someone else while there.”

“What did you do? How did you find out?”

The memory flashed before her eyes as if it had only been the day before. “Alec- I was his secretary then as well, though we were both part of the war effort- had business in London. While there, he spotted Joe kissing another woman. It was, in his words, undeniable. Came home, told me. I wrecked his office, so I understand your need to take it out on the glassware.”

“Did you confront him?”

Ellie shook her head, smiling sadly. “No. I planned to, on his next visit home, but he was killed in a bombing before he could. It took time, but eventually I saw it as the blessing it was – he had someone to care for him in his last weeks. I never found out who she was, and I wouldn’t say I’d thank her, but… I think any happiness stolen in the midst of the Blitz is a good thing.”

“You’re a better woman than I am,” Mrs. Latimer sighed, staring down at her wedding rings again. “I just want to claw her eyes out.”

“Obviously. But cooler heads must prevail; you want to give them no cause to use against you in the divorce proceedings.”

The other woman slumped back on the sofa, unseeing eyes focused on the ceiling. “I suppose. Erm, can I stop by your offices later this week to settle the bill? The next few days may be hectic, I suspect.”

“Take until Monday next,” Alec agreed, rising. “We will have everything fully prepared for your lawyer; if you hire one in the meantime, give him our name so as to coordinate the handover of the evidence.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Latimer climbed to her feet, looking tired, though the fire that had been lit in her by rage still sparked beneath the surface. “Truly.”

“Good luck.” On impulse Ellie gave her a hug that was happily reciprocated, even as Alec let out a heavy sigh behind them.

Letting go Ellie moved towards the door to the room, Alec a step behind her with his hand on the small of her back. Sweeping the door open she found Mr. Latimer and Becca loitering in the hall.

“Well?” the man snapped, glaring between them. “What nonsense have you put in her head?”

Alec drew himself to his full height, and despite his slim frame still cut an imposing figure. “Nothing but the truth. I suggest you speak to your wife.”

They exited the inn without incident, though this time he settled behind the wheel, Ellie curled up to his side as he drove back to the office.

“Don’t bother,” she said once they were on the road, smirking slightly up at his frown. “I liked her, and she needed a hug.”

“Every time Ellie! They’re clients, not friends,” he complained, even as he wrapped his left arm around her shoulder. “Stop treating them as such.”

Ellie blew a raspberry, earning herself a scowl. “I shall if I want to. Our differences in approach, that’s what makes us a good team, or so you say. Well, a team when it doesn’t come to my salary.”

His unimpressed look made her giggle and press her lips to his cheeks.

“Anyway-” he changed the subject abruptly, only to further amuse her, “I made the reservations for this weekend. Three nights in the Cotswolds.”

“What’d you do that for?”

He glanced down at her, raising an eyebrow before beginning to laugh. “You forgot.”

“No I didn’t!” she protested, though it rang hollow as she had, indeed, forgotten. “But tell me anyway.”

“El…”

“It’s not a birthday,” Ellie scrunched her nose in thought as he parked the car in their designated spot, following him out the driver’s side door.

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, shaking his head as they headed up the path arm in arm. “Another year or two of you forgetting this and my feelings’ll start to be hurt.”

Eyes widening in horror she stopped dead in front of the sliding door, remaining there after he opened them.

“D’you remember now?”

His irritatingly smug expression made her whack the back of her hand at his stomach, finally entering the office. “Sod off.”

“We can’t even do this right,” Alec chuckled, tugging her with him as he walked backwards towards the bedroom. “Aren’t I the one meant to forget every year?”

“Oh, I’m grateful you don’t,” she reassured him, “Joe certainly did enough. I am sorry, though. I can’t believe it’s been three years.”

They collided in front of the bed, and he dipped his head to hers as his fingers reached for the buttons on her shirt. The kisses remained soft and gentle as they undressed each other, only deepening once they sank to the mattress together.

“I love you, Alec Hardy,” Ellie whispered, smoothing his fringe out of his face as he hovered above her.

He lowered himself to her, and they let out twin sighs of delight as they were pressed together from head to toe, warm flesh meeting and melding effortlessly. Kissing her he slipped his tongue between her lips even as he entered her body, nuzzling her nose with his once he was fully seated inside her.

“I love you too, Ellie Hardy. Happy wedding anniversary.”

“To many more,” she smiled, wrapping her limbs around him as he began to move.

To outsiders they made a strange pair, too dissimilar to make a happy marriage, but when commented on Ellie would just shrug and grin.

“C’est une affaire de coeur.”

#bbatcfic #Broadfic #Broadchurch #HardyxMiller #Hardy #Miller #Hardy Investigations #Affairs of the Heart #lemons #40's AU

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seadeepywrites · 3 years

Text

Kid, You Gotta Stand Up

Character: Haven Vassellon Words: 3229 tw: academic stress & failure

Haven is eighteen and her life is over.

She sits here for a while, in this small side room of the Runiversity, her throat aching and a heaviness in her abdomen that feels a bit like a draft horse has kicked her, repeatedly. As Haven buries her head in her hands, letting her blonde hair curtain down to hide her face from view, she wishes for the five hundredth time she wasn't the kind of person who cries this easily.

She weeps, but it's practically perfunctory. There are few tears that escape, like she’s a sponge wrung out of all moisture, for the simple reason that she has cried enough this week to fill a bucket with saltwater several times over. By now she knows the pattern she'll follow. The crying, accompanied by the sinking-spiraling sensation that she's worth nothing. Will never succeed at anything, anywhere. Then come the hot flash-bang surges of rage — frustration at herself, and fury at the university for putting her in this position.

Lastly, a nauseous kind of acceptance. There's peace to be found on the other side, when her stomach muscles are sore from her heaving sobs and the tears and snot on her face have dried into a slick film. Haven isn't sure if she’d call this phase coming back up for air or crashing down to earth, but that’s where she is in the cycle when the door to the room opens and Wyler sticks his head in.

"Hey, Haven," he says, brown eyes warm and tone extraordinarily gentle. "How are you doing?"

Haven gives him a double thumbs-up without smiling. "Oh, you know.... terrible."

"Yeah," he says quietly. "I thought so."

Tugging the door shut behind him, Wyler walks over to a desk that sits several arm-lengths away from where Haven is puddled in the near-center of the room. He slouches sideways in the chair, kicking out his lanky legs in two entirely separate directions, and regards her with contemplative sympathy.

"I take it you just had your meeting with Professor Rothquenter?" Wyler asks.

Haven nods.

"And how did it go?" Wyler says, before casting his gaze over Haven's disheveled appearance and amending his question. "I can kind of tell the answer is 'not well.'"

Haven shrugs, a weary and helpless motion. "She said they can't do anything for me. My work hasn't been up to their standards, so it's..." She takes a deep breath. "It's as simple as that."

Wyler makes a noise of outrage. "What? It's not simple at all. There was that whole thing with your sister halfway through the semester, and you— you tried so hard."

"It turns out," Haven says with a bitter twist to her mouth, "that how hard I try is not actually a metric the Runiversity cares about very much."

"They're supposed to be an institute of learning," Wyler says, a little desperately. "They don't recognize how much you want to be here? That doesn't count for anything? Are you serious?"

In a small voice, Haven says, "I don't know that I do want to be here, anymore."

"I guess not," Wyler snorts. "I wouldn't either, if I were you."

Haven scrubs at her face, running her fingers up into her hair and rubbing at the base of her antlers. Her hair floats away from her head in blond wisps — she's guessing it has already tangled itself in the ten minutes since she took it out of its bun, though she hasn't even moved from this chair.

A wad of blue fabric lands on the desk in front of her with a gentle flumph noise. Haven looks at it.

"Uh, what is this?"

"It's my handkerchief," Wyler says with a frown. "For, you know." He waves a hand in her direction. "Your face."

"Wow." Haven smiles despite herself. "Thanks a lot."

Wyler seems to register his own comment. "Okay, you know I didn't mean that. I mean, I meant. Um."

Picking up the handkerchief, Haven clutches it in one crumpled fist. A fresh wave of tears crests and breaks, spilling down her face.

"I'm sorry!" Wyler says, truly alarmed now.

"N-no," Haven chokes out, blowing her nose and shutting her eyes as her shoulders shake. "It's... thank you. For being." She makes a strange wet gurgling noise that surprises even herself. "Here for me."

"Oh." A scraping noise as Wyler scoots his chair closer. One warm hand grips her shoulder. "Of course. I'm.... this is really terrible. How they've treated you."

Haven cries some more. Wyler sits with her, and for someone who's normally quite the chatterbox, he doesn't say much.

***

Haven has forgotten what it was like to be stared at wherever she went. In the halls of the Runiversity, a bright pink tiefling with a large rack of antlers and a cascade of blond hair could sit in a classroom alongside silver-scaled dragonborn, tiny-but-spunky kobolds, and even a handful of shy firbolg. The Runiversity's position as the foremost institute of higher learning means that it attracts people from across the continent of Povrunei — sometimes even further — and Haven had relished the chance to be only one oddity in a group of many. Just another funny-looking student learning to read, write, and fling spells.

It stings a little, then, when she stops at an inn along the coast and the women in the corner of the taproom burst into poorly stifled giggling at the sight of her. Haven ignores them, though she can't prevent her tail from lashing slowly along the floorboards behind her, and goes straight to the bar.

"Hi there," she says to the innkeeper, a somber-looking dwarven fellow who hardly reacts to her presence at all, thank the gods. "Can I get a room for the night?"

"Absolutely," he says in a surprisingly high-pitched voice, reaching under the counter. "One single bed? Dinner and breakfast are included."

"That'd be great." Haven smiles. "And can I get a glass of wine, please? Something with fruit or berries, if you have it."

The innkeeper grunts. "Grape's a fruit."

Haven blinks.

Before she can reply, he flashes her a smile. It is wide and toothy, but it is gone again so fast she's left flat-footed, wondering if she imagined it.

"I'll bring you some of the Minaret blend," he says. He waves a hand. "Pick any table."

Haven does, dropping her pack to the floor next to her chair. It crashes down with a thud loud enough to draw every eye in the place, and she winces. Her shoulders and back are one solid stone block of pain and tension right now, forcing her to shuffle along like an aging hermit, but she’d found herself physically unable to walk away from the Runiversity without stuffing a truly ridiculous number of books into her traveling pack. These are just her favorites, too, the ones she couldn't go any length of time without. When she figures out where she's going to be staying in the future, she'll write a letter to Wyler and he'll send along the other six cases of tomes, notes and journals.

Haven digs her fingers into her stiff shoulder muscles, tilting her head from side to side. Her wand nearly slips free of its place in her bun, so she spends a few minutes re-securing her hair more neatly atop her head.

She is just sticking her wand back through the whole mess, tongue nipped between her pointy teeth in concentration, when a human slides into the seat across from her. Their short hair is dark against their lightly tanned skin, and their gray eyes are glacier-pale. Coupled with their unblinking stare, the effect is unnerving, but since Haven doesn't have any pupils or irises to begin with, she supposes she isn't one to talk.

"Uh," she says. "Hi?"

"Hello," the human says, a smile fluttering like moth's wings around the corners of their mouth. "You are from the Runiversity, yes?"

Haven has spoken to people from several continents of Thiuhm, but she has never heard the lilting accent that lifts this stranger's speech into melody.

"I am," Haven says. "Or, well... I was. I'm actually," she glances down at her pack, "on my way away from it, these days."

"I see." The human sits there for a few seconds, digesting this information. "Would it be all right if I asked you a few questions? I am perhaps an aspiring student myself."

Haven can't help the face she makes, brow furrowing and lip curling in reflexive dismay.

"I apologize," the stranger says hastily. They move as if to get up and leave, halting poised on the edge of their chair. "I did not mean to offend."

"Gods," Haven says with a little laugh, waving them back down. "That's not it. You're fine. Please, stay."

The human settles into the chair again.

Grimacing, Haven continues, "I just don't know how much help I'm going to be. I'm, uh, not feeling too kindly towards the place at the moment."

The human arches one sleek, crisply defined eyebrow.

"It's complicated," Haven says. She fidgets with the fabric of her sleeve, twisting the gauzy fabric between her fingers in a way that is sure to leave permanent creases. "I wanted to go there so badly. I really did."

"But you do not anymore?"

"I don't know." Sighing, Haven repeats, "It's complicated."

"We have time," the stranger says magnanimously. The expression they flash at the innkeeper is small and subtle enough that Haven decides they must know each other — that the human is a regular here.

Haven says, "I don't think I caught your name."

"Ah, I suppose you did not." The human considers this, apparently weighing the possible benefits and drawbacks to handing over such personal information. "You may call me Ten."

"Ten? Like the number?"

"Indeed."

Haven gives a mental shrug, curious but hardly perturbed. She is a tiefling, after all, and strange chosen names are part of their lot as well.

"Okay then — Ten. What did you want to know about the Runiversity? I'll do my best."

"I could hardly ask for more." Ten smiles slightly, inching forward in their chair. "The students, those that are accepted to study there... are they all afforded the same privileges?"

Haven frowns. "What do you mean?"

Waving a hand, Ten says, "Take a random example. Say... the teleportation network. Would any student have access to such a place?"

"Ah," Haven says. She suspects the example was not random in the slightest, from what little she can glean off of Ten's mysterious, polished mannerisms. "Well, uh.... not really. I mean, you could always pay to use it, but in terms of just letting students hop across continents..." She thinks about it for a second. "I'd say you'd have to be at least a fourth-year." And then, more confidently: "They'd definitely require you to have taken Conjuration II, cause that's got a unit on travel and transportation spells. Or to have an equivalent recommendation from a Conjuration professor along with high marks in a lower-level class."

"I see." Ten is silent for a moment. "And what year did you say that you were?"

"I didn't say," Haven replies with a grimace. She shifts in her chair, tugging again at her sleeve. It's not shame that prickles warm across her skin, exactly, but she's not too comfortable baring the sordid details of her stay at the Runiversity. Not right now, with the wound so fresh.

"I was going to take my second-year exams next month," she says after a moment.

Haven doesn't mention that it took her three years to complete the work most students would have in one, or the stilted and humiliating conversations with everybody from her professors to the Archmage of Abjuration to her fellow students. She doesn't share the particulars of the Runiversity's assessment system and why she's so nauseatingly familiar with it. She doesn't admit to the ravenous insecurity that has rotted inside her the last few weeks — the fear that for all her thirst for knowledge, there is something deeply, deeply wrong with her brain. Something wrong with her.

"And where are you headed for now, if you don't mind my asking?" Ten says, perfectly politely. They skate elegantly past the real question that Haven is sure lurks on their tongue, dark and squat and ugly.

Haven says, "I don't know for sure yet. I'm heading east for now, but I'm thinking of maybe sailing to another continent, even. I've never been a ship properly before. Only those little boats, with oars."

Her hands flutter as she talks, tracing a path through the imaginary Povrunei in the air between them. Her fingers hesitate on the coastline, but then she flicks them outward, into the swell of a transparent ocean. Haven knows her geography, but she is starting to realize there is a significant difference between knowing something intellectually and truly understanding it in your bones.

Haven decides, as she speaks to Ten, to pretend. For the length of this conversation and the questions they ask her, she can be like any other student. She chose to leave the Runiversity for entirely independent reasons. Of her own volition and free will, because she truly concluded there was a better life for her in the wide world beyond.

It's tempting, that lie. It's an explanation she pieced together bit by bit over many tearful hours spent with Wyler, bolstered by his attempts to spin golden optimism out of the spiky straw of her despair. He believes it, and she's repeated the words so many times she almost believes it too. It's the story she's told anyone that asks, and one she's tried very hard to convince herself of.

The problem is that Haven's read enough fiction to know a convenient narrative when she comes across one. She's notoriously bad at discerning when other people are lying, but she recognizes the squirm of self-delusion in herself as she speaks. The way she's twisting the truth. The way she's making excuses for herself, and pretending this wasn't partially her fault. Maybe even mostly her fault.

"Haven?"

Haven blinks. Refocuses on the human sitting across the table from her. "Oh, sorry. I got a bit lost in my thoughts there."

"It's all right. I'd expect nothing less from an academic such as yourself."

As Ten smiles magnanimously, it occurs to Haven that she doesn't think she introduced herself to them. To anyone in this tavern, actually. So how the hell does Ten know her name?

"If I'm being honest," she says with a flash of guilt, "I'm not sure it's in the cards for me to be an academic much longer."

Ten's glance flicks down to the pack at her feet and its lumpy, oblong shape. "You are clearly enthusiastic about learning."

"Learning, yes." Haven's mouth twists. "Academia, maybe not so much."

Ten tilts their head in a silent question.

"I want to learn things," Haven says in a rush. "I want to read and take pages of notes and know everything about everything." She swallows against the sadness that's been sizzling in her throat for weeks now. "But school is... it might not be the right fit for me. For the way that I learn."

"There's no shame in that," Ten says, serene, displaying again an uncanny ability to guess at Haven's emotions. "We are all of us different people."

"But I'm a wizard," Haven says, distressed. "Wizards learn their spells through studying. And classes. And homework."

"Do they? All of them?"

"All the ones I've ever met."

Ten laughs. The sound is musical, and there's an echo to it that abruptly forces Haven to re-consider the assumption she'd made that Ten is, in fact, a human.

"You have, however," they point out, "spent much time at the Runiversity. Perhaps it is a limited selection of the population that you have drawn your conclusions from."

Haven thinks about this. It reminds her of the introductory math class she took her first year, which quite literally had her tearing her hair out in frustration. Professor Brighthammer had spent several classes emphasizing the importance of surveying a representative sample, and the errors that might result from a failure to do so.

She nods, and says, hesitantly, "That's... possible, I guess."

"You simply have to make your way in the wider world and meet more wizards," Ten says. Haven can't tell if they're being facetious or not.

She makes a face. "Maybe. It's not the main goal, but it could happen along the way."

"And what is your goal, then?"

Haven hesitates. It's not that she doesn't know — it's the careful fitting of words to her purpose, trying to articulate it in a way this stranger will understand.

"I want to learn," she says slowly. "But I also want to, um, make my mark. Find whatever it is I'm good at and do that. I thought I was gonna be able to do it at the Runiversity, but... I guess not."

Ten's fingers drum an irregular rhythm on the table. They sip from the mug the innkeeper deposited on the table in front of them. Haven blinks, remembering her wine, which she has completely forgotten to drink.

"I hope you find what you're looking for," Ten says eventually. "I have every faith that you will."

"Thanks. Um, you too."

This time, their smile reminds Haven of the point of a needle — minute and deceptively sharp. "I am confident that I will as well. Do not worry about me."

"Uh," Haven says. "I won't, then."

Ten sits with her a little longer, slowly draining the rest of their mug. They ask a few more questions about the Runiversity, in the delicate sort of way that dances around Haven's current conflicted feelings towards the place.

Haven is happy to answer, but she can't deny the way her shoulders relax when Ten finally stands, stretches like a cat, and says, "I shall retire for the evening, I think."

"Okay," Haven says, trying not to sound too relieved. "Good night, Ten."

"And to you."

Ten inexplicably offers her a bow, performed with just enough flourish to look out of place in this rough backwater tavern. Haven gives a short little laugh, bemused.

And then Ten disappears into the night. The door latching behind them seems very loud, despite the murmuring chatter from the other tables that are still occupied. Haven takes a larger swallow of her wine, enjoying its rich and velvety sweetness. She didn't ask what was in it, but she suspects a hint of cherry. It's nice.

She doesn't stay up much later after that, only long enough to finish the glass of wine and thank the innkeeper. Climbing slowly up the stairs, she yanks her bun out and replaces it with a loose braid.

The bed is lumpy and narrow, but Haven collapses into it without changing out of her day-clothes. She places her wand on the low table next to the bed, rearranges the pillow to accommodate her antlers, and is asleep within minutes.

She dreams of a jungle, thick and verdant. Insects hum in its interior, and buried somewhere amid its tangle of vines, a yellow-white light flickers and vanishes. She dreams of snakes, and pirates. She dreams of adventure.

In the morning, Haven heads for the coast.

#Haven backstory #Haven #title is obviously from 'Stand Up' by the Cab #this was a lot of me projecting but not necessarily in the way you'd think #poor Haven with her undiagnosed ADHD in a world that doesn't even know what psychology is

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technicallyoneofakind · 6 years

Text

All In A Name

Author's Note:

So, I decided to do this while playing around in the post-game. Did you know you can have the characters in your party cycle through them calling to each other before battling an enemy for moments on end? I find it amusing. I especially like to switch between Swaine and Marcassin just to hear Marcassin call his brother by is original name.

This sparked the following one-shot, mostly because everyone else in the party calls him "Swaine".

Disclaimer: I wish I owned the rights to Ni No Kuni. I'd include cutscenes for things that don't get mentioned. I can't though.

~.~.~

It had been an argument all morning. The group was beginning to wonder if anything would get done that day as the two brothers volleyed between the two names of the oldest. They sat across from each other, gazes locked, bodies fixed like statues unless one or the other gestured to something.

The young wizard had tried to get the thief in their midst to drop the subject but was met with adamant glares from both sides of Hamelin royalty. It became clear that there was no end- they'd continue their campaigns until the other fell. The boy turned away, looking to Esther, Pea, and Drippy, a silent plea for back up.

Esther tried her hand, but the familiar tamer was met with even greater resistance- the older brother snapping at her to mind her own business. The fairy chimed in after her, reinforcing the attempt to quell the seemingly meaningless match between the two princes, that since they all shared a room- it was cheaper (Marcassin had always wanted to try staying in an inn)- it became their business the moment they started.

It was like moving the iron walls of Hamelin itself, getting them to quit. Pea finally made the suggestion of leaving them alone. Though was more along the lines of wanting to explore the mechanical city outside, but it served the same purpose. As they left the two to stew in their own vortex of sibling rivalry, Oliver asked if there was anything they wanted. They didn't answer, their argument still not going anywhere. He received a side glance from Swaine, a glance the boy had learned meant, "leave me alone" after too many times of going too far over his bounds.

The wizard was the last to leave. He paused at the door when he heard the older man warn him not to take side alleyways for Pea's safety. Oliver nodded, turning to see if they had moved, but the thief had gone back to scowling at his brother, picking up the bottle of Sage's Secret he'd been using as an example all morning to attempt to win his side of the argument. Even if they'd gone back to fussing over something the rest of them considered pointless, Oliver was thankful for his friend's concern for their safety exploring the vast city.

"And I say, 'Gascon'," the ruler abstinently replied to his brother. He refused to call him by that pseudonym he had come up with. What was wrong with his original name? No, he was always going to be "Gascon" to him. It didn't matter if his brother called himself "The King of the Hoggle-Boggles" he'd still call him by the name he was born with.

Swaine let a low growl escape him. He slammed the potion onto the bed for the hundredth time that day. Never mind the fact that the Empire's army would've been looking for him under that identity, he honestly couldn't understand why his brother stuck with calling him that old moniker. He hated it. He hated who he was then. He left it and the Empire behind to find his own identity. It was a reminder of all his failures as the possible heir to the throne. But his brother kept throwing it back at him.

"I told you, call me 'Swaine', from now on," he repeated for what felt like maybe eternity. It was like an endless loop, this farce. He finally threw his arms up in bewilderment, a change in countenance to the previous bitter and stagnant face off. "Why do you insist on calling me that? You want everyone to know who the hell I am?"

The younger brother raised a quizzical eyebrow. It wasn't that at all. He was proud of his brother's name. It, to the sage, was a strong name that commanded respect. "No, but does it matter? That's who you are and who you always will be to me," he confided, hoping that his words did anything but anger Gascon more. He soon regretted his choice, the rugged man before him leaning back suddenly with his mouth ajar.

The jacket clad thief gripped the sheets as he leaned forward, his face stern. "You'd rather remember me as the older brother who abandoned you? Who wasn't there when you needed him most? Who turned his back on his country," Swaine interrogated, pain seeping into his words, though his expression un-wavered. The younger prince's words stabbed him in the heart. He had hated going back to the past in the first place. Seeing himself, his past actions, it reminded him all too well of his negligence and inexperience. That's why he was so adamant about his name. "Swaine" was a different person- he had reasoned. "Swaine" was just a man, no nobility about him, that tried to survive. No power, no magic, no one to impress- he was just a common beggar to the everyday person.

His brother didn't see it that way. Marcassin still saw the young prince that had left all those years ago. He still saw his teacher, mentor, and only surviving family member. He saw what his predecessor was- the original heir to controlling the entire Empire. Most importantly, he still saw him as his brother. "If you had truly abandoned me, brother, you would have never returned." He observed as Swaine looked away from him in a vain attempt to hide a wounded look. "As for the rest…," he paused. He looked down at the plush royal blue carpet that covered the metal floor as if the fibers held all the answers to his older brother's questions.

The Dark Djinn would probably still be continuing his reign of terror without the support his brother had provided them in their battle. He realized then that, aside from a handing over a few spells and some magic used to help finish the Clarion, he was completely outclassed by his older brother in actual effort. He looked up at the glowering man, and though Marcassin was a ruler, he felt like a peasant in his older brother's presence. "All the magic in the world and I couldn't even join the battle, brother," he began, earning a baffled look from Swaine.

It was the thief's turn to raise an eyebrow in confusion. "What are you on about," he asked, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders, his once clenched hands flying up before returning to the cream sheets of the large bed.

"You've outdone me at every turn. You actually helped Oliver face the Dark Djinn, Ga-," he cleared his throat, remembering his brother's qualms. He looked at his right hand, shame gracing his delicate features. "You were there for him. You fought alongside him. You helped make him as powerful as he is now. And I, a Great Sage? I sat in my palace giving orders and practicing politics while you and Esther fought alongside the savior of this world." He looked up to meet Swaine's now softened but concerned gaze, his hands now resting on his knees. The younger took his prior's hands in his. "I know you not as the version you remember." Before the thief could interject or pull away as he was wont to do, Marcassin gripped his brother's hands and leaned forward his expression earnest.

"I remember a brave and determined Gascon: a brother and prince wise beyond his royal instruction. I remember the brother who would design machines beyond my own imagination- who's eyes lit ablaze when a new contraption rolled out of a workshop." He watched as the corners of his brother's mouth twitched, a sign his words were reaching him at least. "I remember my mentor- my closest friend- so enthusiastically asking me to help him put together a model pig tank and how excited he was to see it work. That's the Gascon I remember- and I could never do what he does or has done."

A moment of silence passed before either said a word to each other. Each of them stared in contemplation at their clasped hands dangling over the carpet.

Swaine- no, Gascon had always thought himself as the inferior one, despite being the older brother. To hear his brother's true thoughts on the matter- to hear that he held him in such high regard despite his lack of magic ability- had shattered his argument and his resolve on the name issue. It had also warmed his heart and made his soul soar with joy. One thing bothered the older prince, though: his brother seemed to be putting himself down prior to all of that.

He finally looked back to Marcassin, disappointed to see that, despite his earlier praise, the young ruler seemed bothered. He saw an uncertain and even unconfident look, a look he had only seen when his heart was broken. "Marcassin," he called out, his voice calm and steady, guiding his sibling's head as he slowly looked up.

"You did your part, and you did it exceptionally. Hell, if you hadn't given Oliver those spells or knew anything about prepping the Clarion, we'd be in an awful way." He proudly smiled at his brother. "We couldn't have beaten him without your help."

Marcassin was at a loss for words. He simply stared at Gascon, his hands going slightly slack, but otherwise still holding onto his brother's. Had he really forgotten how useful he himself had been? He mentally berated himself for being foolish. He looked down before apologizing for forgetting his role in the entire ordeal.

The thief took this opportunity to release his hands from his brother's loosened grip. His smile devolved into a smirk and he studied the bedside table adorned with tiny pig head shaped handles on the drawers. He scratched the back of his head, fighting the mess of curly brown hair and looked at his brother. "Oh and… Don't worry about the name. Call me whatever you like." He paused, realizing the loophole in his rationale. "Just nothing too ridiculous."

Marcassin's form loosened up from the stiff awkwardness of the situation. He leaned forward in surprise, a gleeful smile on his face. "So, I can call you 'Lord Hoggle-Boggle'," he teased.

Gascon grimaced, the silliness of the name too much for even him. He waved it off as it were an annoying insect. "Hey, now." He stopped, a sly grin crawling into existence. He straightened up as much as he could with a hunch, attempting a regal look with his hand on his chest. "That's 'Lord High, Lord of the Hoggle-Boggles' to you, 'your highness'," he joked mockingly, stealing the fairy's schtick for the sake of it.

The two of them laughed together in what felt like decades. The joke had, for the moment, transported them to happier days of their childhood. When the laughter died down, the older of the princes announced he was going to lay down, calling it a day. The younger nodded, left to his own devices until the others returned.

"Marcassin," the older prince called. Sleep began to catch him, but the warmth of his gratitude seeped into his voice.

The younger who had gotten up to inspect a painting on the wall of the room turned to his brother. He could only see the back of Gascon, his jacket acting as a makeshift sheet for the thief.

"Thank you… For believing in me."

~.~.~

A/N:

I love writing for these two. If you haven't noticed, the fic title actually comes from the first chapter's context. However, I like to imagine Marcassin is nymph-like, thereby justifying my writing about him and Swaine (and keeping Gemini the Greater Naiad in the thief's brood of familiars).

The argument they're having is also based on an ongoing argument between me and my mother about my name. I don't like my name for… historical reasons.

Anyway. I hope you enjoyed this drabble. Here's to more- if there are more.

I'd like to hear your thoughts. (I bet you’re just shy. It's okay. I won't bite. I promise.)

#Swaine #Ni No Kuni #Ni no Kuni Wrath of the White Witch #Gascon #Marcassin #Hamelin

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dollswow · 3 years

Text

Confession

A story from Tsuuli’s pov, at the beginning of his travels.

Characters: Tsuuli (Zandalari troll paladin), Jaalzek (Tsuuli’s older brother) & Xandarien (blood elf demon hunter, Jaalzek’s boyfriend)

Story: ~2700 words, set several weeks after Tsuuli & Lyrinde meet. Set an indeterminant amount of time before events of shadowlands start.

Tsuuli set his pack down just inside the doorway as his brother strode in, looking around. “It’s not bad!” Jaalzek proclaimed, gesturing around the small, but tidy inn room.

Tsuuli sighed, and shut the door. “You are used to the accommodations in this city, brother?”

Jaalzek shot him a glance, then turned to sit on the bed. “I know, Orgrimmar is nothing like Dazar’alor.” He looked up again and shrugged. “It is not so bad, but it helps to have friends, then you do not miss the comforts of home so much.”

Tsuuli frowned in thought, and set to pulling necessities from his pack. “Xan lives here, no? Quite a difference between having friends, and having a lover to keep you from being homesick.”

Jaalzek laughed, and threw a pillow from the bed at his little brother. “It does help, yes! But Xandarien does not live here. We also are renting some rooms, until we decide where to go next, now that the war is over.”

“Many things to consider, now the war is over.”

“Yes indeed! Such as, will you be returning to Zandalar, after you are done traveling? And why are you traveling alone? What happened to, umm, what was her name? The hunter?”

Tsuuli grimaced at the reminder, and Jaalzek laughed at the face he made. “Jaal, I thought I told you, we only went out together once, but it did not work out.”

Jaalzek stared at him like he expected more detail, but sat back with a sigh when he realized Tsuuli was not going to explain. The truth was, Tsuuli had gone on exactly three dates with the hunter Onala, a pretty Farraki, until it became clear she was painfully boring. She was pleasant enough, but seemed to have no ambitions beyond getting through the campaign she was on, and settling down to a married life with children and her companion animals.

Not that Tsuuli wouldn’t mind being married at some time in the future, or start a family even, but he liked a woman with more fight in her. Someone he could adventure with, and fight alongside. Someone who could kick his ass, if they were to fight each other.

Someone like the feisty elf he’d met up in the mountains of Zuldazar…

“Tsuuli! Are you listening to me?”

“Absolutely not,” Tsuuli replied automatically. He couldn’t help but laugh at the exasperated look on his brother’s face, even as he realized he must have missed something important. Or rather, something Jaalzek thought was important. “What were you saying?”

Jaalzek sighed and raised his eyes and hands, as if praying to the loa for patience. It was a gesture with which Tsuuli was well acquainted. “I was saying, little brother, that Xan and I know a woman, a mage…”

Uh oh, Tsuuli knew where this was going. His brother loved to try and set him up with various women he knew. It was nice, in a way, that his brother tried to look out for him, but he’d never been able to articulate exactly what he liked in a partner, in a way Jaalzek could understand.

He privately thought it was because Jaalzek did not care for women, that made him such a bad matchmaker. Xandarien might be better at it than his brother, but Tsuuli had his doubts.

Jaalzek was really getting into his description of the mage, taking Tsuuli’s silence as encouragement.

He would have to tell him.

His shoulders sagged.

“—we can all have dinner together so you will not feel awkward—“

“I met a woman,” Tsuuli interrupted, voice a little too loud for the small room.

Jaalzek sat back, looking surprised, before he burst forth with a flurry of questions. “You did? When? Where? Is she going on your trip with you? Will she be here in Orgrimmar? What is she like?”

“She is a demon hunter.”

“I thought you said you didn’t care for demon hunters?”

“I did—“

“You didn’t like their ‘Prissy faces and snobby attitudes.’”

“Yes, but—“

“And you always say you like tall women, not ‘Those puny elf girls.’”

“Well you see—“

“I am getting a lot of mixed signals here, Tsuuli. Is it someone Xandarien knows?”

“Well I did not ask—“

“Though I think they all know each other, it is a bit like a cult—“

“She is Kaldorei.”

“...”

“Tsuuli.”

“Yes, brother?”

Jaalzek stood and left the room. He didn’t slam the door though, so Tsuuli counted that as a win. He went to the bed and smoothed out the wrinkles in the blanket from where Jaal had been sitting, fluffed and replaced the pillow that’d been thrown at him, and stretched out for a short nap.

He knew his brother, and he knew he’d be back soon. Might as well get some rest before the confrontation.

A single, cursory knock was all Tsuuli got as a warning when Jaalzek returned. His abrupt arrival was softened somewhat by Xandarien following him into the room with a friendly, “Good to see you again, Tsuuli,” immediately continued with, “...well, not literally.”

Tsuuli couldn’t help but chuckle at that, and the wry grin on Xan’s face meant he was better at diplomacy than one would usually expect of a demon hunter. Jaalzek was occasionally pompous and could be overbearing, but Xandarien seemed to be more than capable of handling him. Tsuuli spared a thought for how the two made a good couple, and he was glad his brother found such a bond in the middle of the upheaval of war. Even if he was being a bit of an ass at the moment, standing in the corner, silently waiting for Xan to shut the door.

Once it closed with a soft click, he began to nag, though it was tempered by his hushed tone. “Tsuuli, you cannot consort with a member of the Alliance! Our people have only just joined the Horde. The Kaldorei are one of their biggest ancestral enemies, not to mention our own—”

“How did you meet?” Xandarien’s gravelly voice cut in. “Was it after the armistice?”

“Yes,” Tsuuli replied, ignoring his brother’s sputtering. “She crashed in the mountains, on her way to her departure point out of Zandalar.” He looked at his brother directly. “She had been assisting a team with packing up a base in Nazmir for evacuation, but her mount was injured and in her emergency landing, she ended up finding the grotto. Our grotto.”

Xandarien leaned back, his mouth forming an “O” in realization. He turned to Jaalzek. “You haven’t even taken me there!” he accused. “I’d forgotten, but you told me about it when you were courting me.” He said the last with a smirk, and Tsuuli was reminded of how much he did actually like the man.

Jaalzek was unmoved though. “She told you all of this? Freely?”

“Will it make you happy if I told you she tried to kill me when she first saw me?”

“No,” Jaalzek replied.

“Yes!” Xandarien laughed. “That explains his attachment,” he said to Jaalzek. Perhaps Xandarien wouldn’t be a bad matchmaker after all, were Tsuuli to need such a service.

Tsuuli arranged his pillow behind his lower back and leaned against the wall before speaking again. “She was relaxing in the pool when I walked up, and startled her.” His eyes glazed over at the memory of an angry, naked, and dripping wet elf charging him with glaives out. “She is...quite athletic.”

He must have had a stupid look on his face, because Xandarien guffawed as Jaalzek scowled.

“What’s her name?” Xandarien asked suddenly.

“Lyrinde.”

The demon hunter tilted his head to the side, thinking for a moment, then gasped. “Oh!” He turned to Jaalzek, “I know her, she is exactly Tsuuli’s type. I think you can relax, Jaal.” He ran a hand over Jaalzek’s bicep in a soothing manner. “She’s fierce and unrelenting, of course,” he said with a proud, feral grin, “but one of the most sane of our kind. She does not suffer from her demon as much as many others have.”

Jaalzek stared at his lover for a moment before turning back to his brother. “Exactly how much time have you spent with this Lyrinde?”

Tsuuli didn’t think his brother was ready for full details of what happened when they met, and would have to adjust his story accordingly. “Weeeeelll, after I startled her out of the water and she threatened me,” Jaalzek groaned as if he just realized what that meant about her state of dress, “we spoke for a few minutes to establish that we were not in fact going to fight to the death—”

“You had to bubble, didn’t you?” Xandarien cut in, gleefully.

Tsuuli sighed at the term, but answered, “Yes, I used my Divine Shield. As a precaution.”

Xandarien’s laughing was disruptful, but Tsuuli continued his tale, “After we came to an agreement not to engage in combat, well,” he peered at his brother, “we...occupied ourselves.” He could see Jaalzek’s expression slowly turning to horror. “For several hours.”

Xandarien had to move to a small stool in the corner to sit, overcome with laughter as he was.

Later, when they were having dinner in the Wyvern’s Tail, a more remote and quiet inn, Jaalzek finally seemed to regain the fortitude to ask, “So after you and the demon hunter—” He swallowed and started again. “Did you talk after—” He groaned and took a swig of ale.

Tsuuli took mercy on him and replied, “She was reluctant to talk at first, but I think she found me charming.” He grinned at Xandarien, who had been nodding.

“She’s all action, not much talk, that one,” he added for Jaalzek’s benefit. “But, from what I remember, Lyr was not the type to want to stick around afterwards. I know she broke a few hearts during our time at the Temple.”

Tsuuli shrugged, “It took some finesse, but I convinced her to talk to me more, and that is how I learned of her predicament.”

“You mean, you annoyed her into talking to you,” Jaalzek deadpanned.

“If you say so, brother.”

Tsuuli was perturbed that yes, that’s exactly what it meant, but he would not give his brother the satisfaction of knowing it. Besides, he preferred to think of it as persistence.

“You say you learned this of her, and perhaps she was not being deceitful, but the fact still remains that she is...” he looked around, then dropped his voice to a whisper, “Will you even see her again? Perhaps it was a one-time fling, and you must now move on.”

Tsuuli picked up his mug and drank deeply before answering his brother. Truth be told, he’d feared such an outcome, and Xandarien’s comments made his stomach squirm at the thought of being another broken heart left in Lyrinde’s wake.

He would find out soon enough, he supposed.

“We have written to each other,” he said slowly. “I am meeting her in Dalaran in a week’s time.”

That was the plan, at least. Her letters tended to be shorter than his to her, but he put that down to her less than fluent grasp of Zandali, her very basic writing skills in the language, and probably her strange spectral vision, fel-tinted as it was. It had been about seven weeks of correspondence since they met at the grotto, averaging at a little more than one letter a week. She’d only agreed to the Dalaran scheme three weeks ago, though he’d invited her to meet with him there before they parted ways in Zuldazar.

Xandarien gasped, as Jaal blurted, “What?!”

Tsuuli trudged back to his inn after dinner, a little dejected. He could understand his brother’s concerns and doubts, he could. And while he was still positive about the upcoming meeting, and that it would actually happen, Jaalzek’s doomsaying put a damper on the buoyant mood he’d been harboring ever since Lyrinde had accepted his invitation.

In his distraction, he very nearly kicked the tiny vulpera steward attempting to get his attention as he made his way through the inn’s busy common room. “Excuse me!” he yelled over the commotion. “Tsuuli of Dazar’alor? That’s your name, correct?”

Tsuuli looked down into the pointed, furred face, and saw he was waving an envelope at him. “Mail has arrived for you!”

He couldn’t help a fluttering feeling of hope in his chest as he reached down to take the letter, murmuring his thanks. The vulpera trotted off through the crowd on other business with a hasty, “You’re welcome, please enjoy your stay!”

Tsuuli recognized the careful direction written on the outer folds of the envelope and hurried up to his rooms, waiting to break the seal—blue wax imprinted with a stylized crane—until he was completely alone, a true feat of strength in his current state.

Once the door was shut and bolted behind him, he grabbed the paring knife he’d used on a tough-skinned desert fruit earlier, and carefully pried up the seal, keeping it intact as he’d done with all of the previous letters. They traveled with him in a small golden lockbox at the bottom of his pack, one of his most prized possessions.

This letter felt a little thicker than usual, though peering inside it seemed to contain only one sheet of parchment. He pulled it out, realizing there was something packed within the paper. As he unfolded it, a fresh scent of foliage wafted out, brief but invigorating. It smelled of elven magic, like the woodlands of Ashenvale, which he visited once on a short trip to acquaint him and other Zandalari troops with Horde operations.

Two items slipped from within the note, into his lap, but before he could examine them, the brief words scrawled on the paper caught his eye.

I hope this finds you, before we meet. I will look changed, and did not like to surprise too much.

Care,

Much shorter than her usual letters, though with the same stilting verbiage, he smiled at the note all the same. Her Zandali was rather impressive, for a member of the Alliance, and her writing was always improving. They could communicate more easily, perhaps, in Common, but she had always made an effort to speak Zandali with him, and once confessed in a letter that she was trying to improve. Having learned the basics earlier on in the war campaign from the vaunted Alliance Spymaster Shaw, she claimed using Tsuuli’s native language with him was helping her more than her lessons ever had.

Shaking off his memories, he looked down to his lap where the items had fallen out. The first was a leaf, pressed and dried, but not brittle. It seemed to be in the midst of turning, but to a shade of evening, rather than autumn. He held it between his palms and, not for the first time, thanked the loa that they’d led him to visit the grotto that one day, after over a year of being away, on the one day he might have met her.

Setting it aside to be put into the lockbox, he picked up what he at first had thought was a chain, but was in fact—

“Oh!” he couldn’t help but exclaim out loud.

It was a long, thin braid of shimmering white hair, bound at the ends with silken thread.

Smooth and sleek, fine strands as silky as he remembered them, he caressed the lock gently, curling it into a circle, uncoiling it again to marvel at the gift, then finally when he’d had his fill, finding a coin purse to empty out and stow the precious strands in, tucking them in an inner pocket of his vest, close to his heart.

He would find a more suitable pouch later, perhaps in Orgrimmar’s shops, or in Dalaran’s famous trade district itself, once he arrived in the floating city. For now, he felt more at ease than he had since confessing his secret to Jaalzek, and thought he might get a decent night’s sleep after all.

#warcraft #warcraft fic #warcraft oc's #tsuuli #lyrinde #xandarien #jaalzek #zandalari troll #blood elf #paladin #demon hunter #shaman #my writing #lyrinde got the beta early so was able to get that sweet haircut

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idolsthatjustsohappentohavemagic · 7 years

Text

How we meet

Main Character: Youngjae and Namjoon Side characters: none Pairing: Youngjae x Namjoon

Summary:

How Namjoon and Youngjae meet as children, grew up together and shared their first kiss.

While Namjoon liked to pretend other wise, he couldn’t actually remember anything from when just arrived at the school. Then again he was 5 years old and it wasn’t like it was normal to remember anything at that age.

But he knew what he was told. He was told of how he was a weird child. He would never cry, and when he was just picked up from his parents who were crying their eyes out he just stared at the teacher who came to pick him up looking at him with serious eyes. “Are you going to make sure I don’t hurt people.”

It had stood for reason that Namjoon hadn’t actually hurt anybody, he had created a tornado inside his playroom and made a giant mess, but since his powers couldn’t hurt himself and he was the only person in the room everybody had been fine.

The teacher had taken away many kids from their parents, he had trained how to make them feel comfortable and how to do it human, but he didn’t need anything like that from Namjoon. It was like Namjoon a tiny scrawny 5 year old understood that he needed to go away, because he wasn’t safe.

His parents hadn’t wanted to give him up, they weren’t actually the one that called the magic police… The people in charge of taking kids with abilities away from their parents, they wanted to keep Namjoon. They didn’t care that he could accidentally hurt them, they just wanted their baby.

It had been hard for Namjoon parents to conceive they had tried for years and failed, so just having Namjoon was a blessing to them. Sadly it wasn’t an option, and the farewell was teary. Well Namjoon had been told it was teary, he just remember the fear he felt as the wind around him picked up and multiples of his favourite rubber duckies as they had hit him in the face.

He had just wanted to see the biggest one fly over to him since he couldn't reach it and it had the the Ryan sticker on it! Instead every single one came flying straight into his face, after that they got caught in the wind and started circling around him as a tornado.

It was scary, Namjoon was terrified. He might still be young, but he like all other kids knew that people with powers had to be taken away so they wouldn't hurt other people.

There was one other thing he could remember his mum saying to him as he hugged her goodbye. It was something that would have an important impact on who he ended up being as a person. “Joonie-bug you are going to meet some people that have powers which some would call evil. Those aren't evil, remember even if they are part of chaos it doesn't make them monsters or evil. Yes some people will be mean, but that isn't because of their powers, but because they are bad people.”

That is why Namjoon ended up requested to take in all the new students with dark powers, but of course Namjoon didn't get to run it from the start. The first many years he spent in a child dorm where teachers with magic specialised in child care looked after them. A lot of the kids with powerful chaos gifts had them blocked and suppressed until it was in a right answer for them to be thought control.

Namjoon was one of the kids who were suppressed as soon as he had been evaluated, his magic was strong and heavy with chaos alignment. It was decided they they would wait until he was already 14 and moving out of the kids dorm to try and teach him control.

It was also there he meet Youngjae the first of the guys. Youngjae was a baby two soon three months, and like Namjoon he was a silent child. The teachers and caregivers were worried about him, he was sadly one of the kids who had been abandoned by their parents.

He has been in his room alone, all the caregivers busy. Namjoon couldn't remember doing it, but he had been told that they had found Namjoon with Youngjae in his arms the tiny baby giggling at Namjoon who had an almost serene smile on his face. Hehad informed them that he thought Youngjae was hungry.

From that day on the two were inseparable from each other, Namjoon would do his best to teach Youngjae everything he knew, which in hindsight wasn't a lot since Namjoon was a child as well. But he helped Youngjae overcoming his underdevelopment, at first Namjoon didn’t understand why most of the other kids didn’t seem to like or even stand Youngjae.

The caregivers had been worried what would happen when they told Namjoon what Youngjae’s gift actually was, but instead Namjoon just shrugged. “He would never hurt me.”

Which that was correct, not that Youngjae could ever hurt him because he wore a suppression cuff just like Namjoon so even accessing his gift was hard.

First time Namjoon and Youngjae had a fight was right after Youngjae reached 6 years old. Namjoon had been allowed to visit his parents who were in town. It would be the first time he got to see them since he got to the school. He didn’t have his own phone so he didn’t really have the chance to talk to them that often.

Which was probably also what had lead Youngjae to the misconception that Namjoon, just like him had been left behind and abandoned. Left behind like Youngjae himself had, so when happy 8 year old Namjoon told Youngjae that his parents were in the town to meet him and they had asked to meet Namjoon’s only friend as well.

Youngjae had for the first time in Namjoon’s memory thrown a tantrum and had refused to go with Namjoon into the town. That had left Namjoon who no matter how mature he acted at times was still a child, to be prissy and just leave without asking.

It was first when Namjoon met up with his parents, and his mother asked where Youngjae was that Namjoon started crying about how Youngjae was mad at him and he didn’t understand why. He wanted his bestest friend to meet his family, wasn’t that normal?

In the end his mother had sat him down and explained since Youngjae didn’t have a family himself he probably felt left out since Namjoon did, and maybe he thought Namjoon was like him. A sniffing Namjoon had just nodded sadly, he was too young to understand the complicated emotions behind how Youngjae was acting, only really understanding that Youngjae was mad at him.

While they stayed at the inn with Namjoon on her lap, Mr. Kim wrote a letter then she gave to the handler that had brought Namjoon, told the young lady that the letter was for Youngjae and Namjoon was to not be in the room when it was read out loud.

She and her husband had plans to move as close to the magical town as they could, so they would be able to see their beloved son as much as they wanted and as he wanted. They had gotten Namjoon very late in their life, not because they wanted to but because they hadn’t been able to.

It had taken them to search out a less than legal form of magic to conceive. That was why they had known that there would be a high chance that Namjoon would have a chaos magic, and when he was born tiny little lightning bolts were gathered in his chubby baby hand.

They had promised themselves that they would protect him for as long as they could, teach their tiny baby to be calm and collected. To teach him to be open minded, they didn’t want to give him up before they had to.

So they hid his powers, homeschooled him while still taking him out to see other people, but just see them while they could protect him. With that Namjoon grew up as a smart child, a little introverted but not unable to hold a conversation.

They had hoped that they could keep him longer, keep him out of the child dorms. But fate hadn’t been with them as their neighbor had called in about Namjoon’s storm. They had been so happy when they saw which school they ended up taking him to was A.N.T.S.S known as high class school with good founding, and accepted all assignments, she felt as she could react when she heard that.

Even if he hadn’t cried when he had to leave them years ago, Namjoon almosted cried when he had to leave them the second time. No longer having his magic loom over him but due to Youngjae being mad at him when he got home. After one of the handlers took him to the side to read the letter out loud for him everything went back into place. That night Youngjae did like he had done every day since he could walk, sneak into Namjoon’s room with the older kids and share his bed with him.

No words needed to be exchanged between the two. None were needed to said as tiny Youngjae buried his head in Namjoon’s shoulder in their normal cuddle, just before Namjoon’s eyes closed he heard Youngjae whisper. “Sorry.”

All was forgotten after that, the two moved on without any issue and the next time that Namjoon’s parents came into town a year later Youngjae was happy to go with Namjoon, but as they came to the tavern he couldn’t stop himself from being shy and hiding behind Namjoon as they went up to his parents.

Luckily Namjoon’s mother was actually a blessing to humanity as she crouched down on Youngjae’s level and smiled at him. “You must be Youngjae. I have heard so many thing about you, you make my son very happy.”

And from that point on Youngjae was sold it seemed like. As they had to leave he was calling Namjoon’s parents mum and dad as of their request, it was nice and Namjoon was happy that his family had accepted Youngjae and he had accepted them. It meant the world to them.

The caregivers at school had always expected Youngjae and Namjoon to grow apart from each other as many childhood friends did, but it never happened. If anything they became closer than ever as time went past, after that first fight they never had a fight again.

But there was one fight that cemented their friendship and later their pseudo relationship. It wasn’t a fight between the two of them or anything like that, it was a fight between Youngjae and the adults running the kids dorm.

At 13 when Namjoon was old enough to be moved to the teenagers and later adult dorms it was to be the first time that Youngjae and Namjoon were separated, and Youngjae did not take well to it at all.

The thing to make it worse was that Namjoon wasn’t to be put into one of the exciting dorms or anything like that, no no he was being put in charge of dorm Andromeda that had yet to have more people living there other than Namjoon himself. As they got older it made sense why they would put Namjoon in charge of dorm even at 13 as he shown clear leadership skills and being raised open to all alignments especially the dark ones like Youngjae’s made him a perfect candidate to look over whatever new students they would get with strong chaos alignments.

The thing was that Youngjae wasn’t old enough to move with Namjoon, and he refused to be left behind. The outbreak of crying screaming and other out of character moments for Youngjae left everybody other than Namjoon scared of the 11 year old child.

Panic rose between them as Youngjae started to rip at the suppression cuff he was wearing to keep his powers down, none of the handlers had dared stepping closer to the young kid. Namjoon on the other hand had no problem with taking Youngjae in his arms hugging him close while giving all the handlers the stinky eye.

From that moment it was decided that even if Youngjae wasn’t old enough to move dorms, he would be moved with Namjoon to the Andromeda dorm. It wasn’t something they really wanted to do, but they felt like they didn’t have a choice.

And for the next four years Namjoon and Youngjae would be alone in the Andromeda dorm, while they would both make other friends from other dorms, especially the Bootes dorm they still stayed as close as ever. When Yugyeom joined both were happy to finally have a new member and none of them cared about it being a blood mage. Yugyeom was adorable after all.

And just before they get their third member to the dorm Youngjae stakes his claim in Namjoon as he gives the older leader his first kiss, it might not Youngjae’s first kiss, but that is another story for another day. Yoongi and Youngjae’s story.

A/N:

For more information about this AU you can go to the first story in this series! which can be read HERE And we are taking requests as well for anything in this AU, so if you wanna see something you are welcome to request it!

Also is there a shipname for Youngjae and Namjoon?

- Prussia

#choi youngjae #Kim Namjoon #Bts #Bangtan #Got7 #gotbangtan #bts scenarios #got7 scenarios #Bts fluff #Got7 fluff #Magic au #Youngjae x Namjoon #Got7 x bts #Rap Monster

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jaeminlore · 7 years

Text

Thief Part 6 // Park Jimin

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt 4 Pt 5

- Part Six: Close

summary: in which prince jimin doesn’t know that his future wife is not only trying to steal from him, but is also trying to kill him.

words: 3,158

category: prince au, fantasy au

author note: better late than never amirite? anyway, things are about complicated. and a new character appears!

- destinee

Jimin woke up with his face pressed against a soft pillow and a huge headache forming. He furrowed his eyebrows as he awoke, noticing that his arm was around something.

Very carefully, he ran his hand over the surface. With startled revelation, he realized that he was feeling the smooth curves of a body. His heart sped up without knowledge.

Where was he? What had he done last night?

He had definitely gotten drunk, that could be assured thanks to the throbbing pain behind his eyebrows. But just how drunk would he have to be to take a woman to bed? He never did that. He wouldn’t. He was engaged.

Hesitant, he peaked one eye open to see who he had his arm around. A huge sigh of relief escaped him as he realized it was your waist his hand was on, and it was fully clothed.

He was fully clothed as well, he just realized, which meant that the two of you more than likely didn’t do anything.

A not-so-unfamiliar urge stirred up in Jimin’s chest. He suddenly wanted to pull you closer to him.

His mind raced as he wondered what it would feel like to have you pressed against him, trusting him enough to sleep soundly in his arms.

Without much thought, Jimin turned on his side and grabbed your waist. He pulled you close enough to him that he could feel your back against his chest and his warm breath fan his own face after bouncing off your neck.

You were still sleeping, and Jimin could feel the tenseness in your shoulders. He wondered why you were so stressed.

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Jimin dared to press a kiss against your bare shoulder. Your skin felt warm against his lips and he liked the feeling so much he kissed you again. And again. And again.

A tired giggled escaped your lips, and Jimin’s heart fluttered at the sound. “Stop,” you mumbled. “That tickles.”

Jimin obliged, and settled instead for rubbing circles into your hip with his thumb. Finally, he pressed his face into the crook of your neck and fell asleep.

You awoke with a start, due to the pair of arms secured around your waist. Usually, if arms were around your waist, it meant you were being attacked, interrogated under the trope that you hadn’t really kept your side of the bargain.

You turned around (with a struggle, mind you), ready to attack your attacker. Only, you were met by Jimin’s sleeping face.

Memories from last night came to you in intervals, each one sadder than the last. All you could see now when you looked at the prince was a vulnerable and scared man, struggling to make his country a better place.

He was drunk when he told you everything. Therefore, until he remembered, it would be in your best interests to keep it a secret from him.

You relaxed a bit, your face falling into the plush pillow as you stared at the prince. His hair was long, perhaps in need of a routine cut. The pale strands brushed across his forehead in soft waves. There were worry lines on his smooth forehead, which was the sole reason for his pursed lips.

What was he dreaming about? Was he even dreaming? You wondered if he was thinking about his father, or the trouble with the kingdom.

You wanted to help him. The only way to do that was keep him alive.

You needed to go back to Krull and visit that man. You’d have to explain everything before it was too late.

With a contented sigh, you stared at the prince a few moments more, taking in every detail you could. Gently, you reached up and kissed his forehead, hoping to smooth any worry lines.

This might be something you could get used to every morning, if you ever did, say, marry the prince for real.

Your biggest problem now was how to get the people of Krull to believe that he was a good man. He was nothing like the king and didn’t plan on becoming like him any time soon.

Slowly, you pushed yourself out of Jimin’s hold and climbed out of bed. The king wasn’t there to stop you from leaving. He wasn’t there to hurt Jimin for letting you go. If there was any time to visit Krull and set things straight, it was now.

So you got dressed and left the prince alone, sleeping soundly.

Jimin ran out of your bedroom, nearly knocking Minah down in the process. He held her by the shoulders, a panicked look on his face, “Please tell me you know where Y/n is.”

“She’s in Krull,” Minah said calmly, struggling to keep from smiling at the absolute concern in the prince’s face. “Jeongguk took her to go finish some errands.”

“What errands?” Jimin asked. “Can I go too?”

Minah smiled, “Are you forgetting you’re still injured?”

Jimin groaned. Indeed, in all his worry of waking up alone, he had forgotten all about the wounds on his back. Now, thinking about them, he could still feel their faint sting. “Okay, but after these get cleaned can we please go to Krull to pick up my wife?”

“Your wife?” Minah rose her eyebrows and smirked. “She’s only your fiancée, Your Highness.”

The prince’s face flushed and he let out a nervous chuckle. He scratched the back of his neck and shook his head, “Ah, it was just a slip of the tongue. Don’t tell Y/n I said it.”

“I won’t.” Minah made a locking motion at the corner of her lips and threw the metaphorical key behind her shoulder. “C'mon. You can eat breakfast while I rewrap your wounds. Y/n will be back later, and you can see her then.”

Jimin obeyed grudgingly. Then, “Did Y/n eat this morning?”

“Yes. We ate together until Jeongguk finished his morning chores and was able to take her out.”

“Did you and Jeongguk hang out last night?”

“Not really.” Minah shrugged. “We did some sword fighting together, but other than that we just went to sleep early.”

Jimin sighed, “I’ll talk to my dad and see if I can fix your schedules and give you guys more free time.”

“No,” Minah protested, “don’t bring any of that up to His Majesty. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Minah smiled at him. “Now sit down and I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Can’t I help you make it?”

Minah stopped, “I would like that, actually. Thank you.”

You walked into the Jung Inn after making sure Jeongguk promised to stay inside of the carriage until you returned. It wouldn’t take that long, you were sure.

He agreed, on the condition that if you weren’t out within an hour, he was allowed to come in and make sure you were safe.

You walked into the inn and made your way over to the corner where the man was always sitting. He was there, as predicted, and gave you a twisted smile when you sat down across from him.

“Have you got what we need?” He asked, anticipation clear in his voice.

“Actually, I need to speak with you about something,” you said. “I don’t think the prince is as bad as the king.”

He narrowed his eyes. It suddenly occurred to you that you didn’t know his name. At all. He had never told you. This particular moment seemed like a bad time to ask, however, so you kept your mouth shut.

“What are you trying to say? Do I need someone else to do your job?”

“No!” you protested, “I just think that, after spending time with the royal family—”

“You’re on their side?!” The man scoffed. “That’s why we shouldn’t have brought a young girl into this. You’ve fallen in love with the prince and now you want to try and become a princess, don’t you?”

“That’s not it,” you spoke through gritted teeth. “and I’m an adult capable of making logical decisions outside of my emotions, alright? I still agree with you that the king should be taken off the throne, but I’m trying to tell you that the prince would help Krull if he was on the throne.”

“So would Chanyeol.”

“Okay, look,” you said, “Jimin has told me his plans as a king, and I trust him to take care of Krull.”

“No, you trust him to take care of you. As long as you’re the queen, it won’t make a difference who is the next king. You’ll have a nice bed to sleep in either way.”

You slapped the table in exasperation and hissed, “If you think for a second that I’m going to let all those children outside starve and die while I am playing princess than you’ve got everything wrong. Now listen to me!”

“Look, kid, I don’t like the idea of killing someone so young, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. I’ll take you to meet my boss, and he’ll decide if you’re telling the truth.”

“Fine,” you said. “Take me to him. What’s his name?”

“Min Yoongi.”

You stilled. The man smiled.

With a stutter, you managed to speak, “Isn’t he a dark mage?”

“Yes, is that a problem?”

“N-No,” you said, “I just didn’t know I was working for someone who deals with dark magic. That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“Yoongi is a respectable man. He knows what he’s doing. He recently had a vision, and through it he came up with this whole plan. If you can convince him he’s wrong, he may change his mind, otherwise, his assassins will kill the prince no matter what.”

“I’ll convince him,” you promised.

You had to. The prince’s life was in your hands.

You found out his name. It was Barron. You found out because Hoseok caught you two leaving, and invited himself along. Apparently, Hoseok knew the names of everyone in Krull and Eden alike, since Barron came from the latter.

Barron led you two out the back of the inn, after you convinced him not to go out front. You didn’t want Jeongguk to know anything about your motives and schemes. Even if they were for the prince now, you weren’t sure how to explain that to Jeongguk.

You and Hoseok followed Barron down a few back roads, until you came to the back of a nearby building. “Isn’t this Mr. Blu’s shoe shop?”

“Have you ever been inside?”

“No.”

“And has anyone in this town ever bought shoes?”

“I don’t think so,” you had to answer. “So it’s fake?”

“Well, not necessarily. Blu does sell shoes, but he also practices curses. Yoongi lives above him.”

You were a bit apprehensive about meeting a mage, let alone one who practiced dark magic. Perhaps he would not be as ornery as you thought. Perhaps he would be nice to you and understanding of your dilemma.

The shoe shop looked nothing like a shoe shop at all, but it definitely didn’t look like a dark mage would live there either. It was a comfy-looking living room, covered in thick wool blankets. There were candles on every end table, making the room a potential fire hazard. Not to mention, it smelt like a mixture of lavender and blueberries.

The smell made you inwardly groan in hunger. It had to be around lunchtime, and you hadn’t eaten anything since the toast Minah gave you that morning.

You and Hoseok followed Barron past all of that, towards a staircase half-hidden behind the wall. “Yoongi should be home. He likes to stay indoors and practice spells all the time.”

“Is he dangerous?” Hoseok dared to ask.

“Everyone is, if you want to get technical,” gruffed Barron.

You rolled your eyes, “I didn’t peg you as the sarcastic type.”

“You’ve never talked to me outside of murder plans.”

“Touché.”

Up the stairs, there was an open-concept room. As if the living room, kitchen, and bedroom were wrapped up into one. Only, there was no furniture in sight, save a single chaise made of black velvet.

Upon that chaise laid a man who looked innocent at first glance. His face was round, and small snores escaped his thin lips. His feathery black hair lay across his forehead. You could almost swear there were little bits of maroon glitter in it.

He wore a red tailcoat over a white dress shirt. His black pants were held against his waist with with red waistband. He looked like a rich patron from Eden, not a poor mage from Krull.

“Is that him?” you asked the old man.

“That’s Yoongi. Not many people can wake him up.”

Hoseok scoffed, “How hard can it be, honestly.”

He strode up to the chaise and squatted down beside the young man. Hoseok used the tactic he used when he used to wake you up as a child: he poked Yoongi’s cheek.

The mage furrowed his eyebrows and mumbled something under his breath.

Without a warning, Hoseok’s finger began to swell. It turned blue and engorged at the tip, frightening your best friend into screaming his head off. “Change it back!” he shouted at the sleeping man.

Yoongi only peaked one eye open and muttered another spell, causing Hoseok’s other four fingers to begin growing at an alarming rate as well.

You weren’t sure why Hoseok had so much courage to do what he did next, but alas, he did it anyway. He jumped on the mage and began slapping his face over and over.

Yoongi finally sat up, having grabbed both of Hoseok’s wrists. His glare scared everyone in the room, for it seemed that his irises were turned the same dark obsidian as his pupils.

Hoseok did the only thing one can do when a dark mage is holding both of your arms. He head-butted Yoongi with so much force that the mage’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he lay there, slumped against the back of the chaise.

Hoseok’s hand returned to normal. “I can’t believe I just did that,” he moaned. “I’m dead. Actually dead. He’s going to kill me.”

“No, he won’t,” Barron consoled Hoseok with a rather rough pat on the back. “Yoongi hates being woken up. If anything, he’ll thank you for letting him sleep longer.”

Well, Barron was wrong, and Yoongi was absolutely not thankful that Hoseok let him “sleep” longer.

You had managed to get him to sit down, far away from Hoseok, who was cowering in the corner with his hands behind his back.

Yoongi sat on his chaise with a bag of ice pressed against his head. He glared at you, “You’re the one who was sent to kill the king and prince?”

“I was sent to steal information,” you corrected, “not to kill.”

“Whatever you want to call it, sweetie. You’re helping us kill them. Their blood will be forever on your hands.” Yoongi smirked.

“That’s why I came,” you clarified, “I believe that the prince shouldn’t be killed. The king: do whatever you want. The prince, however, isn’t against us.”

Yoongi scoffed, “I can’t believe you want to protect Jimin.”

“Prince Jimin,” you snapped. “And I promise you I was ready to kill him just as much as you were, until he told me his plans for Krull. He wants to make it equal to Eden.”

Yoongi nodded, “So you believe anything he says?”

“No. But I believe he will genuinely work to help restore Krull to a better place.”

“You can believe all you want, but I’m not gullible, nor am I naive. The prince has just as much power as the king, and he could put his plans into place now, if he really wanted to.”

“No, he can’t,” you said, “the king is a tyrant and he’ll hurt Jimin if he tries to help us.”

Yoongi stood up. “You know, a true prince would take the risk for his people. If there is no change in Krull before the wedding, I will send my assassins in to kill both of them.”

You sighed in frustration. Jimin could actually die if he tried to turn over a law that helped Krull. There was no way you were willing to put him at that risk. So what are you supposed to do?

“Please just kill the king,” you said in a panic. “Jimin will pass the laws as soon as his father is dead.”

Yoongi averted his eyes and spoke in a low voice, “Look, Y/n, I believe you. I believe that the prince is a genuinely good person who wants to help Krull. But he’s a coward. What’s gonna happen when an adversary comes looking for war against Eden, and Jimin cowards because he’s afraid? This isn’t just about Krull. We need to be under good leadership. Chanyeol has actively made visits to Krull to give out food and supplies. He has shown character that Jimin doesn’t have, alright? I wish there was a way to keep him off the throne that doesn’t involve killing, but there isn’t. If he doesn’t step up to his father, I won’t stop my orders.”

You turned your gaze down. “Yes… I suppose that’s fair, actually.”

Yoongi smiled slightly, “I hope he gains courage, for your sake.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. You stood up and held out your hand, “Let’s go, Hobi. I want to stay with you tonight.”

You were tired and hurt. It felt like you were five years old again, aching to crawl into your mother’s arms and have her hold you. She was no longer here, so your longing switched to Hoseok.

He squeezed your hand comfortably. “I’ll return you to the castle in the morning.”

Tears escaped the corners of your lips, and you couldn’t speak for fear of letting out a sob, so you simply nodded and let him lead you out of the old shoe shop.

Jeongguk returned to the castle that night alone. He ran into Jimin’s room, where the prince was busy with more forms and documents.

Jimin looked up from his work and smiled, “Is Y/n back?”

“No, Your Highness,” Jeongguk breathed. “She left.”

“What?” Jimin stood up, his eyes wide with fear.

“I let her go for an hour, but it’s been all day and she didn’t return. I looked for her everywhere, Sir. She’s disappeared.”

Jimin strode across the room and picked up his coat. He wrapped it around his shoulders, “Take me to Krull.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. I should’ve stayed with her.” Jeongguk struggled to keep up with Jimin’s quick steps.

“It’s fine,” Jimin said shortly, “I told you to give her some freedom. She could be in danger, though. She’s told me before that there are dangerous men in Krull. I won’t rest until she’s found.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

- to be continued -

189 notes · View notes

meloncholor · 4 years

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Writing Masterlist (1/4-1/10)

Blog Exclusive

Trevor, You’re an Idiot - Trevor and Sypha try and name their first child.

Christmas Memories (Part 1) - (Prompt) A fluffy story about Trevor, Adrian, and my Bloodborne character name Ezio giving each other simple presents for Christmas and talking about their lonely past.

Reading - Trevor Reading over Sypha’s shoulder to annoy her.

Come to Bed - Sypha is an early riser and Trevor is a lazy boi; Sypha snores and it sounds like purring

Please Put Me Down - Trevor can speak french; Sypha gets injured and Trevor has to carry her

Remembrance - Trevor opens up to Sypha emotionally.

Mi Oso - Sypha tries to teach Trevor Spanish

Dog Days - Sypha brings in a stray German Shepard because it’s scruffy and soft and it reminds her of Trevor.

Magic Spider - Trevor and Sypha have to decide who kills the spider.

Birthday With the Dirty Boy - Trevor’s birthday.

Star Children - Sypha and Trevor looking at the stars.

Winter’s Bounty - Trevor makes a cloak like his for Sypha.

Your Laugh is Funny - Sypha is ticklish.

Goodbye, I Guess - Trevor visits his parents’ graves with Alucard and Sypha.

Castlevania Mafia AU - Just what the title says.

Osito - Trevor asks why Sypha calls him that.

Birthday Girl - Trevor celebrates Sypha’s Birthday

Finish - Carmilla and Godbrand hate s*x. (Lemon)

In Bed Alone - Trevor isn’t feeling great.

A First - Elinore’s first words.

Singer - Trevor asks Sypha to sing for him.

Destino - Trevor likes Sypha’s singing.

Echo: Undaunted Warmup #1 - Echo is a bit touch starved.

Castlevania Warmup #1 - Elinore goes hunting.

House Call - Lisa treats a young Trevor.

I Would Prefer If You Shut Up - Vlad gets defensive of Echo

How Lovely to See You Again - Vlad greets his wife (reader) when she gets home.

It’s Alright, I’m Here - You wake from a nightmare and Trevor comforts you.

People Watching - Reader gets jealous and upset, and so does Vlad.

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Training Pains - The Belmont kids train together

No Matter the Cost - Vlad would do anything for you.

An Afternoon Together - Echo and Vlad together one afternoon.

All for You - Reader and Vlad spend some quality time together.

Archive of Our Own

General

Warm - Trevor and Sypha share a moment by the fire. (Lemon)

A Snowy Relief - Sypha and Trevor have fun in the snow

Thunderstorm Blues - Sypha gets hurt by a night creature, Trevor is left to watch over her

An Unexpected Fortune - Trevor and Sypha have to share one bed at an inn. (Lemon)

A Few Drinks Together - Sypha insists on coming with Trevor to the bar. (Lemon)

A Cottage In The Woods - Alucard pays a visit to the Belmonts after a long time away.

You’re a Mean One, Ms. Carmilla - Carmilla calls on Hector when she’s bored (Lemon) (TW: R*pe/Non-con)

One Lie -Trevor nearly drinks himself into a coma

Old Friends - Trefor visits the new home of Leon Belmont

Castlevania 2185 - The gang breaks into Vlad Inc.

The Hanged Man’s Prize - You are hired by the famous crime lord Vlad Tepes, and his interests start to reach far beyond the scope of your duties. (Lemon)(Incomplete)

Echo: Undaunted - Isaac’s biological sister struggles in undoing the evil Carmilla has wrought. (Incomplete)

Hidden Charms - Alucard likes SOME things about Trevor. (Incomplete)

Grace - Trevor saves you from a witch-burning and you are left with the aftermath of what you’ve seen.

Indulgences - Trevor is a filthy dirt man who only functions on spite, even when it’s to his detriment. Alucard fixes this.

Fifty Shades of Carmilla - Hector and Carmilla have a tit for tat relationship

Belinda and Leandra Belmont - Exploring Trevor’s parentage

Light Reading - Sypha finds a book on vagina spells.

Mother Dearest - Sypha finds a journal on Trevor’s Grandmother.

Blog Exclusives

Tone Deaf - Kyoka/Bakugo AU where they’re musicians

Seeing Stars - BNHA boys smoking weed and girls dropping acid.

Dancing Queen - Todomomo trying to learn to salsa dance.

I Didn’t Know - All Might forces Endeavor to reconnect with his family.

Torment - Students find a bottle of Aizawa’s scotch.

An Early Morning - Emi and Aizawa’s morning with Kiwa.

Please Stop Asking Me - Emi is the first to push for kids.

Bakugo’s Lament - Bakugo explains why he didn’t become a villain.

Unpolished Kiribaku Warmup - The family goes shopping.

BNHA Kyoka/Kaminari Warmup - They’re hanging out.

Little Wonders - Ochako and Izuku in their home.

Parent-Teacher Conference - Emi and Aizawa are asked to come to Kiwa’s school.

Save Me - All Might almost drowning, based on the scene from Aladdin.

A Forgotten Memory - Enji and Yagi before everything changed.

Archive of Our Own

Two Bros in a Hot Tub and They’re Definitely Gay - Kirishima visits the number 2 hero Bakugo in his expensive home (Lemon)

Mom Swap - Katsuki and Izuku switch moms, that’s it.

Mom - Mitsuki visits her son in the hospital

Tired - She hasn’t seen Shoto in a while

Is this a Porno? - Izuku doesn’t think Mei has a medical degree… (Lemon)

Holding a Vigil - Momo waits for Shoto

Alice in Wonderland - Izuku has conflicted feelings when he sees Hitoshi at a strip club. (Lemon)

A Memory Preserved - Toshinori and Enji have passed their times in the limelight, it’s time for them to finally talk about what happened.

A Knight’s Honor - Fantasy AU; Bakugo and Midoriya spar.

Blog Exclusives

Spoken through Pen Strokes - Charthur fluff.

Just a Little Bit Longer - Jovier Fluff.

Sunny Days (Part One) - Charthur Fluff

Happy Valentine’s Day Arthur - Albert pays a visit.

What Once Was - Arthur finding out about his ex-wife and son.

Dance With Me - Dutch asks Hosea to Dance.

Charthur Warmup - Pure Fluff.

Wasted Opportunity - John is an idiot.

Again? - John can’t sleep.

You’re Always A Party - Sean and Karen go on a date.

Archive of Our Own

Two Sides of the Same Coin - Albert Mason is a fool.

She’s All I’ve Got - Hosea has to save Dutch from her brothers.

Soaked to the Bone - John takes Javier fishing.

Starry-Eyed - Arthur gets distracted while Charles is tracking animals.

Blog Exclusives

Anwar and Nadia Warmup - Nadia tries serving traditional Haitian food.

Muriel and Lillian Short - She likes playing in his hair.

Trouble in Paradise - Lucio isn’t paying enough attention to Ophelia.

Noise - Lillian has a panic attack.

Another Warmup - Avina has trinkets Asra’s never seen.

Dandelion Bouquet - Julian gets an idea.

Archive of our Own

General

Mala - Lillian takes Muriel to her favorite shop, and then she meets a new friend.

A Short Reprieve - Lucio and Ophelia are late for a banquet.

Here in the Garden - Julian has to walk through the woods to get home, and on his way intrigues the interest of the woman who makes her home there.

Arcana Thirst (Complete)

Let My Love Adorn You - Ophelia’s sanctuary is invaded. (Lemon)

Greeting the Sun - Anwar and Nadia spend the morning together. (Lemon)

Deviating Divination - Avina gets home late with her supplies. (Lemon)

Sanctuary - Lillian wants to give something to Muriel. (Lemon)

Be My Muse - Donovan is having an art block, Julian helps. (Lemon)

I Missed Your Warmth - Monica comes to visit Portia during a snowstorm. (Lemon)