#not enough scrap immortals | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vivalabunbun · 8 months

Text

When It Rains, Why Does It Pour?

Summary: Sand is quite a nuisance, it creeps into every crevice and no amount of dusting can free oneself from its stubborn hold. Yet, the tide still greets the shore.

Word Count: 8.8k (oh no...)

Tags: Neuvillette x GN!Reader, human!reader, SFW, fluff, childhood friends AU, Slow Burn, Slow Fic, Angst, Hurt with Comfort, themes about reincarnation, TW: Themes about death and loss, themes about aging, immortal x mortal AU, not lore accurate, reader is an attendant, human prejudice, Spoilers Warning: His story quest and archon quests, speculations about his past in Fontaine, why is he so mysterious

Authors Note: This was a challenge trying to write from the POV of a man you don't even know the name of, but I just had to write something for him. A character study of Neuvillette. Enjoy!

How long has it been since he first arrived here? One month? Two? Or perhaps it has already been a year? The young dragon wasn’t too sure.

The days seem to blend together when one only eats, studies, and sleeps all on repeat. A cruel trait of time. The weather outside the glass windows didn’t provide any hints either.

However, he himself is to blame.

A gray haze concealed azure skies as rhythmic drops of rain hit the earth. Blocking out the all-seeing sun and nurturing moon, the murky clouds above even hinder the stars from accompanying him.

A true reflection of his current solitude.

The young dragon arrived in the human world, brought over by the lord of Fontaine. Due to the nature of his arrival to this nation, he was given status and importance in the eyes of the citizens. However, he has yet to receive acceptance.

The grand estate in which he resides was staffed with countless butlers and maids, renowned chefs, and skilled tutors. He was wanting of nothing, yet still impoverished.

He could see it in their mortal eyes, he could sense it in the tangible silence of the halls, he could tell from the distance each mortal put between themselves and him.

Much like the towering stone walls which surrounded his private residence.

Was it to separate themselves from him or himself from them?

A question he entertains as lilac eyes scan over the aforementioned wall. Its gray stones are a welcomed change from the dry parchment with even drier content.

As he observes the drab stones contrast against a dreary sky, a small flash of white cuts through the somber composition.

Catching his lilac eyes as they follow the strange shape, it drifts through the capricious wind before the breeze grew bored and tossed it to the ground.

Studying it a bit further, the young dragon identifies the object as a simple pillowcase. Nothing more than a scrap of fabric.

He reasons that the wind must’ve stolen it from some clothesline. Just when he was about to return to the legal ledgers a rustling came from the bushes lining the bottom of the wall.

A small frame pushes apart the thick vegetation, creating enough space to finally free themselves from the entangled mess of branches.

The towering wall, the one meant to separate him from the mortals, was defeated by a mere child.

A child who’s clumsy brushing the twigs from their garments and shaking a few raindrops from their hair. He watches as the small human trots toward the discarded pillowcase, a pout forming on their lips as they observe the mud that had seeped into the silk.

Judging by the simple attire they don, they must be the child of a maid.

Ah humans, fickle and temperamental creatures created by the usurpers. It took a conscious effort on his part to stop the frown threatening to appear on his lips.

Seems like he still needs to get used to their presence.

It was as if the child sensed the bitterness in his thoughts because soon a pair of wide eyes connected with lilac. Even with the sun hiding behind dreary clouds, there was a light that twinkled in their irises.

It was only for a minute, no, even less than that. But a young dragon and a young human held each other’s gaze.

The child’s shoulders jolt as they turn their head back toward the wall, as if a voice called for them. Casting one last glance toward the young dragon, the child trots back toward the wall, disappearing within the murky viridescent.

And that was the end, like the breeze that littered a scrap of fabric among the grass, the small human came and went.

Such fickle creatures, the young dragon gives it one last thought before returning his attention back to a cluttered desk.

–

Amongst the soft drumming of droplets came a tap against the glass too sharp to be caused by the gentle rain. Causing the young dragon to turn away from the stacks of books laid out before him.

The wet glass obscured a small flicker of an orange glow, thus he walked closer to investigate. With each step, the figure outside the window became undeciphered.

That small human again.

Locking eyes with the human outside the glass, the fickle creature’s lips curl up, the glow of their lamp illuminating the curiosity behind their gaze.

A human child doesn’t have the potential to cause much if any harm to him. Thus, he releases the lock, removing the glass barrier separating two breathes.

“Hello! What is uh… your name?” They chirp out.

His sharp ears picked up the clumsiness in their speech, the subtle unfamiliarity of the words they spoke. Distinct signs that you were still learning the language of Fontaine, much like him.

Although he understood your question, he was too distracted to answer. Lilac eyes wandering off toward the stone wall. Within the entangled mess of twigs, there was a small parting.

A part just wide enough to reveal the secret the bushes desperately tried to hide: A small hole along the bottom of the stone barrier. Just enough for a small creature to slip through.

Discovering the truth behind how a small human was able to defeat such a seemingly impenetrable wall.

The pattering of the rain was interrupted by the rustling of fabric, drawing his attention back to the small human in front of him.

The child rummages through their pockets before pulling out a lump covered by a handkerchief. Peeling back the layer of fabric to reveal some conch madeleines, presenting fragmented sweets before the young dragon.

“It tastes good, I promise.” A small hand extends itself further through the open window.

Observing the crumbly sweets laid out upon a handkerchief, the young dragon halted the rejection that almost escaped his lips. Remembering the concepts he had just been reading before this.

Humans tend to follow a set of unwritten rules, principles they like to call ‘manners’. There weren’t any punishments issued by law if those rules were broken, no imprisonment or fines.

However, narrow-eye stares and whispers behind backs were the punishments issued to transgressors by society.

So, he accepts a piece, trying to ignore the sand-like sensation against his tongue. As he chewed, the grin on the human’s face only got wider.

“Now that you’ve taken one, you have to give me your name, it’s only uh… fair!”

Ah, it looks like he’s been tricked. Falling into the clumsy sugar-coated trap only a child could come up with. Yet, as his lilac gaze caught the twinkle still ever so bright in their eyes, he didn’t have the strength to form a frown.

Just a curious human child, only as dangerous as a firefly buzzing in his ear. There shouldn’t be any harm in disclosing the surname bestowed upon him by this nation.

“Neuvillette.” He finally said his first words to you.

A peculiar pattern is recurring. That rainy night when Neuvillette opened those windows, it looked like he welcomed a phenomenon in as well.

Even in his current state, a small human like you could pose no possible threat to him. Thus, whenever a certain tap was placed against the glass. He saw no reason to turn away the visitor. Allowing you to climb in through his window time and time again.

It would’ve been better if you used the door. However, he’s aware of the complications such a request would bring.

Perhaps it’s because he’s currently in the form of a young child, sharing a similar stature to yours. From his observations, humans do have a tendency to gravitate toward those with similar traits. Or perhaps, you’re just exceptionally brazen.

Neuvillette glances up from his book, thick with endless sentences describing obscure and frivolous laws, landing on your frame lazing around upon a rug.

One hand holds onto a collection of fables, pages illuminated by the gentle rays of a star. While the other periodically reaches out toward a pile of conch madeleine.

A sight he’s come to expect now.

Lavender eyes follow your hand as it brings another one of the crumbly sweets to your mouth again. You brought them over under the pretense of sharing them with him, yet they’re already half gone. The only hand reaching for the sweets being yours.

Just like how it was last time, and the time before that, and the one before that as well.

If you felt this complacent in his presence now, then perhaps he can be more candid with you. As is common practice among humans to present a polite front that gradually wears away each recurring meeting.

“You do not have to bring over any more conch madeleine.”

The moment those words left his lips the motion of your hand halted, looking up to connect your sight with his, confusion pinching together your brows.

“Oh? Why so suddenly?” The collection of fables now resting on the rug.

It’s already been done, the first ripple in the frangible water between you and him. There is nothing that can cease the waves that accompany the first breach. He might as well say the whole truth.

“They are dry, I cannot fathom how you can bring yourself to eat them.” Prescriptive eyes caught a faint flinch as you processed his edict.

“They taste fine to me…” You mutter, picking another one up.

This time you chewed slower. The pinch between your brow only grew as you tasted the sweet again, searching for the perceived flaw.

As you met his gaze once more, he could tell your search brought forth no fruitful conclusions. Thus you asked another question in response.

“Then what do you like?”

Besides the pleasantries commonly exchanged between humans in Fontaine, Neuvillette recognizes he lacks the talent for small talk.

The room usually filled with your grievances about whichever tedious task you were assigned before you slipped away behind a wall and into his private residence. Ambient noise which accompanied each flip of a law book.

It is long overdue for him to pull his weight in a conversation.

“Water, spring water.”

“Huh?”

Neuvillette repeats his sentence but the scrunch of your brows doesn’t ease up, he couldn’t fight the urge to draw in a deep breath. So this is the limitation of the human palate, how regrettable.

“Perhaps you are still too simple to appreciate the qualities of water.”

The pout upon your crumb-covered lips morphs into a tight line, sealing away your voice. The brightly printed cover of a storybook was shut as the last few remaining treats were bundled away in a napkin.

Your tea break ended early today, impassive eyes following your figure as it disappeared among the thick vegetation beside a stone barrier.

It was quiet today, not even a single parting uttered past your sealed lips. Therefore leaving the conversation unfinished.

But that is today, you’ll have another tea break tomorrow, and you’ll come to him with your grievances about chores tomorrow as well.

The young dragon returns his focus to the text in front of him.

–

The soft hymn of raindrops against a glass window reverbed through the solitary study, providing a melody for the periodic flips of paper. But the melody was hollow, incomplete.

Shifting his body to look behind himself at the vacant rug, Neuvillette deduces why. The accompaniment was missing.

That tomorrow he had come to expect never came.

Had he committed a transgression? Overstep a line outside his place? Food is a point of pride for many humans, one oddity he’s yet to grasp.

These temperamental creatures tend to lash out when their pride is wounded, much like how a beast reacts to an unhealed cut.

Neuvillette was curious as to whether this was an inherent trait of humanity or a learned by-product of the fickle principles imposed on themselves.

However, observing the abandoned storybook tucked away, the young dragon is leaning towards the former.

Turning back to face his desk, his eyes could only glaze over the monotonous scribbles. Perhaps the cause of his spiritless attitude was disappointment, disappointment in himself.

It looks like he was careless, deluding himself with the misconception that you and him were alike. Two outsiders who found solace in each other’s presence.

However, this was false. You were an outsider to Fontaine, but he was an outsider to this world where humans walked.

He’s still too naive.

Fickle and temperamental creatures spoiled by the usurpers at the expense of his ancestors.

Why did he even entertain the thought that you and him could ever be alike?

Something stirred from within, like when pebbles were thrown into still water, but what were those pebbles? As Neuvillette ponders this conundrum, the drumming of the rain grows louder.

However, it wasn’t loud enough to swallow up the sharp set of taps which interrupted his somber reflection. Jolting him from his thoughts, snapping his attention to the source of the noise.

There stood a figure distorted by the wet glass as another set of sharp taps sounded through the room.

Before Neuvillette could even process it, his body moved without his command. Unlatching the lock and setting the window free from its frame.

Not sparing another second to the raindrops soaking into their cloak, the figure clambers through the window with practiced proficiency.

Without uttering a single greeting, not even one pleasantry, you situated yourself on his floor. Melting into an undignified lump on the pristine tiles as bewildered eyes watched you.

After catching a few breaths, an explanation finally makes its way to his ears.

“T-they… they patched… up the hole,” you huffed out between short breaths.

Ah, the small cavity in the stone wall that you used to escape from chores. Looks like the security at the estate finally noticed.

Gauging the height of the wall from his place by the window, he’s aware of how it towers over both him and you the same.

This brings up another question as he returns to observe your frame, still trying to catch the breaths that evade you.

“I… ran… through the gates… before the… Gardes noticed…” Exhaustion evident in your eyes as pants break up your sentence.

Ah, looks like his question was answered before he even inquired. To be puzzled or amazed, he wasn’t too sure how to categorize this ripple inside him.

The tomorrow that’s been missing for a little more than two weeks, is now right in front of him.

Panting and leaving a few muddy traces along the marble floor, but here nonetheless.

With one deep motion of your lungs, you pushed your body up, finally getting ahold of your breath. The familiar rustle of your pocket, the audio cue for a certain dry sweet to appear. Neuvillette didn’t mind in the least.

Perhaps, he can bear the sandy sensation just for today. But tomorrow is always filled up with surprises, a glass bottle finding its way out of your pocket instead of sugary treats.

“What is that?” An obvious question, but his voice found its way out of his mouth.

“Water, water from the servant’s well, I bottled it myself.” A small hand holds the bottle out more.

“Thank you,” Neuvillette accepts it into his hands.

He should really acquire some glasses to pour the water out into, it’s improper and bad manners to drink from the bottle.

However, his curiosity was greater. Or maybe, he didn’t realize just how parched he had become from waiting for tomorrow.

Uncapping the clumsily packaged water, he takes a generous sip.

“It’s sweet.” His tongue picking up on a subtle saccharine undertone.

“Really?” Your hand reaches up as that familiar shine illuminates your eyes.

Taking a sip from the bottle passed back into your grasp, your brows furrowing in concentration. Another sip was taken from the bottle as you continued to search for the sweetness in the water you’ve always drank.

A sight that tugged up at the lips of a boy still studying the shape of your quirked brows.

Humans, fickle, perplexing, yet astoundingly curious creatures from the very beginning.

If he is to walk amongst the human world, then it’s best for him to be equally curious. To try and search for the harmony between two different breaths.

A child of a maid far from their homeland. A status too insignificant to warrant the attention of Fontaine's factions, freeing you from their prying eyes and entanglements.

Therefore, it should be alright for him to continue observing you, no?

“Ahh… The rain is so unpredictable here in Fontaine, trying to hang out the wash here is always a gamble.” You sink further into the plush cushions of his settee.

As the sun rose and fell, as the leaves grew green then gold, as the ground froze and thawed.

One thing remained unchanged throughout these cycles even as they repeated: your grievances over chores.

The frequency of these complaints reaching his ears has increased, on the part that you now took over more of your mother’s responsibilities in managing the laundry of this estate.

Besides your habitual complaints of the weather, one detail didn’t escape Neuvillette’s hearing: your proficiency in the Fontainian language has increased significantly.

Words no longer spoken clumsily or with unfamiliarity. Accent nearly indistinguishable from a native speaker.

“The people here are fond of creating strange machinery, why can’t they make something to dry clothes?” You resume.

The quill in his hand stops as he pauses in the middle of a sentence, glancing over his shoulder toward your slouching figure making yourself comfortable in the sofa that’s more familiar with your shape than his.

“Perhaps you should be the one to create it, studying might do you some good as well,” came his curt response.

His candid advice makes you sink further into the cushions with a groan.

“I’d rather travel than study those jumbled-up books about machinery or whatever, in fact, I want to visit my homeland as soon as I can,” you grumble aloud.

Ah, that’s right, you’re approaching the age where you could travel freely.

By law, you won’t be bound to the side of your mother, not needing any permission to come to and fro however you wish. No longer kept at this estate washing and folding sheets.

Indeed, you and him found yourselves in similar situations: on the cusp of freedom from this estate.

While he was deep in thought, you filled the silence left behind by posing a question to him.

“Do you plan on visiting your homeland anytime soon, Neuvi?”

By now, the young dragon had stopped expending the effort to try and correct you in your butchering of his surname. Your reason being ‘it’s too long’.

Alongside you, he has grown in stature as well, elapsing you some time ago much to your dismay. If he wished to travel, not much would pose a problem to the young dragon.

However… where could he return to? A homeland… was there a section of his homeland untouched by the usurpers? If he were to go, would he ever want to return to this world?

Sensing the change in the air, dreary clouds blocking the sun’s rays from your skin, you were perceptive enough to ramble about a different matter.

Namely, how the chef of the estate recently changed the type of flour used in the kitchens, resulting in pastries and sweets that were less airy but more flavorful.

Explaining to him the subtle improvements and deterioration in the quality of some baked goods. Filling the air of the study with bright-eyed ramblings until rays of light peek out from waning clouds.

–

“Monsieur Neuvillette! It’s been a while since you’ve visited!” Soft patters of skipping steps made their way to the tall man.

Tilting his sights down, Neuvillette greets the cheery melusine with a gentle smile which she returned with an equally bright grin.

While on a routine stroll along the riverbanks to stretch his legs after a long day, he found himself at the entrance of Merusea Village.

He wonders if it's his body’s natural response to get away from the Palais Mermonia and Opera Epiclese.

Carrying him toward the direction of a secluded reprieve he discovered far away from the suspicious eyes of weary humans.

Condemnatory eyes were constantly pinned to the back of the young dragon who had recently emerged from a sheltered estate to sit in the grand seat of a Chief Justice.

Days filled with nothing but a cacophony of voices echoing off the opera house walls. Screams from the accused and the eager murmurs of spectators blended into nothing more than a chaotic din in his ears.

Gazing deeper into the small lake, the unsuspecting entrance to a hidden haven that the Melusines called home.

It would only take a moment, just one dip into the pristine water for him to disappear from the clamorous mortal realm.

Abandoning the overly grand seat of his post as easily as it would take for his head to vanish under the tranquil tide.

How great would it be to exist in the presence of creatures who could resonate with his own adriftness?

Maybe, he could finally discover the purpose of his current form and longevity in their company. Yes, that sounds about right.

Just as the water wet the tip of his overly ornate shoe, all motion his body stills at a familiar call.

“NEUVI!” Came a voice from just over the beaten path.

Soon your silhouette follows the echo of your call, steps hurried yet worn.

When the young dragon departed from his temporary estate and into the Palais Mermonia, a certain specter followed him as well.

The same specter who’s currently huffing to catch their breath after such a rush. Trying to gather enough air to form their next sentence.

“There you are! The grand tailor sent me to fetch you because you’re almost an hour late to the fitting of your new robe, they need to make sure the measurements are correct,” you chide.

The exasperation of your words was most definitely caused by the fact you had to physically exert yourself in your search for the wandering Chief Justice. Evident by the pout on your lips and scrunched nose.

His attention was quickly torn away from your recuperating figure by a faint tug of his slacks.

The Melusine had hidden herself behind his legs, creating a barrier between her and the strange mortal who seemingly appeared from the blue.

Her sudden movement caught your attention as well.

Ah, that’s right. The Melusines have yet to be acquainted with humans, and humans with Melusines.

Two different species, two different breaths, and two different sets of eyes that can’t seem to see directly into each other.

If his time within the wall of the estate and Palais Mermonia had proven anything, it would be the natural adversity humans had to differences.

Neuvillete certainly wasn’t prepared for such an event, nor was he sure how to handle it.

In the midst of his inaction, your hand reached into your pocket, fumbling around before pulling out a handkerchief-covered lump.

Despite the soreness in your legs, you lowered your body until you were at eye level with the shorter Melusine.

“Hello there, would you like some conch madeleines?” Unraveling the fabric to reveal the sweets which you seem to have an abundant supply of.

The grip on his slacks tightened as she glanced up at him, lilac eyes catching the hesitance in her irises. Neuvillette gives a subtle nod, giving just enough reassurance for the small creature to release his pant leg.

Reaching a mitten-like hand toward the golden sweets, it only took one bite for the hesitance in her eyes to be replaced by a bright twinkle.

“It’s tasty isn’t it?” Your lips formed a wider grin.

The Melusine responds with an eager nod, too occupied with bringing more of the buttery treat into her mouth.

At the sight of her restless chewing covering her cheeks with faint crumbs, you let out a giggle.

“I’ll give you the rest of the sweets if you tell me your name,” you offered.

After a few moments of the Melusine finishing her previous bite, she falls for the same trap he had many years ago.

“My name is Carole!” She chirps.

“What a wonderful name.” Your gaze softened further as you held out the treats, keeping your promise.

As Carole reaches for more, she glances back up. Wide eyes twinkling as she inquires him with the one thought currently on her mind.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, does the human world have more treats as delicious as these?”

Ah, it looks like the stroll Neuvillette took today to relieve himself of mounting troubles only led him to more.

The skies over the Court of Fontaine have been in a pensive stalemate, all too familiar clouds blocking azure hues. However, rain has yet to patter on the ground, as if the weather was unsure of itself.

A feeling shared by the Chief Justice currently sitting at his desk, reviewing the details of the day’s trials. Albeit, half heartily.

Much like the skies crowded with clouds, in the solitude of his office, his mind rang loud with thoughts. Neuvillette only had himself to blame for the current silence of his office, it’s been this way for around a week going on two now.

Lilac eyes peered over the tops of the papers toward the shut doors, concealing him away. There hasn’t been a knock on those doors for some time now, due to the diligent Melusines who followed his request.

Turning away potential visitors with crafted excuses of ‘The Chief Justice is handling a very important case’ or ‘My apologies, but the Chief Justice is very busy’.

Neuvillette recognizes that he’s currently no different than a child hiding away from the consequences of a broken vase.

How childish, he chides himself as he returns back to his responsibilities. How would the citizens of Fontaine react to their Chief Justice conducting himself in such a manner?

He’s sure if Lady Furina were to catch wind of his behavior, she’d be greatly entertained.

As if the mere mention of the nation’s archon presented a bad omen, the sturdy doors of his office swung open, revealing the face of a familiar visitor who’s been turned away one too many times.

“My my, it’s been quite some time since I’ve seen the inside of this office, I almost forgot what it looks like,” you remark as your eyes hone in on him.

The child’s hiding place under the bed has been exposed.

“Good afternoon, I was not made aware you had any appointments with me.” Neuvillette’s own eyes trail past yours.

From behind the door frames the figures of two Melusines quickly dodged away from his sight. A silent admission of guilt on their part, and Neuvillette didn’t have to look hard to deduce the crime they’ve committed: Accepting bribes.

The evidence was right there in the form of buttery crumbs left on the corner of their mouths. Ah, you and with those conch madeleines of yours.

It’d be best for him to finally handle the situation at hand, one he’s been trying to maneuver out of.

“If I recall correctly, you were granted a vacation, why not take this chance to travel? It certainly is a prime opportunity-”

“Why have you been avoiding me, Monsieur?” you cut through the long-winded pleasantries and excuses.

His lips press together, by now he’s well accustomed to your brazenness. However, the absence of a familiar name only said in your voice made the guilt weigh heavier on his shoulders.

Guilt which originated a few weeks prior.

—

On a secluded riverbank, a routine walk under clear skies was halted. You were knelt down on the ground, uncaring of the sand sticking to the fabric of your clothes, as you held a Melusine between your arms. Two mittened hands clung to you as she soaked your shoulder with tears.

“W-why? Why did he have to go?” Her sobs interrupted by sudden hiccups.

As you rubbed circles into her back, something he saw humans do to soothe their crying young, Neuvillette watched from the side. Much like how he would observe those performances within the Opera Epiclese.

Liath is her name, a diligent Melusine who patrolled the grounds of the Palais Mermonia. By her side, there would be a guard poodle who’d matched her skips with his prances. An inseparable duo, or it’d be more accurate to say, they were once an inseparable duo.

Dogs are a species domesticated by humans, some might argue that they were created by humanity through generations of selection. So it stands to reason that they too would have a limited lifespan.

In fact, they have a lifespan even more restricted than that of the mortals who tamed them.

The Melusines have just begun walking amongst humans, there were still many aspects their sheltered minds have yet to grasp. The fleetingness of mortality is one of them.

Thus, Neuvillette did his best to caution them.

However, just like how laws can’t completely stop crimes, his words can’t completely prevent such tragedies. All he could do was try.

“I’m sorry for your grief, this was the very reason why I cautioned you against getting too attached to him… A dog’s life is brief-”

“Monsieur Neuvillette.”

The sentence died at the tip of his tongue as his eyes met yours. Gaze narrowed and brows furrowed, not even the Chief Justice dared to interject any further.

After you silenced him, your focus returned back to the grieving Melusine.

Slowly standing back up from the ground, her frame cradled in your arms as her sobs continued.

“I know it hurts,” you whispered, one hand patting her back, setting a steady rhythm reminding her to breathe.

“B-but why? W-why is it so sad?” she hiccuped.

You hummed, beginning to bounce her a bit within your hold.

“Wouldn’t it be sadder if you never met him?”

At your question, the Melusine stares at you through teary eyes. Expression lined with confusion.

“To have loved him, and for him to have loved you in return…isn’t that enough?” You cooed, taking steps away from the riverbank.

Still frozen in his place, the dragon could only stare at your back as it grew further and further away, soon disappearing from his view.

He had misspoke.

Neuvillette recalled last Autumn. As the vivid hues of the foliage shriveled up to nothing more than a shadow of their former beauty, you laid your mother to rest. Burying her in a cemetery which overlooked the direction of your homeland.

His unsolicited reprimand must have been throwing salt into a wound that still bled. He had overstepped his authority.

Murky clouds congregated in the once clear sky.

—

Those were the events that transpired, events that have led to the current stalemate happening in his office. Lilac eyes couldn’t seem to find the courage to connect with yours. Another excuse finding its way to his tongue.

“Didn’t you want to visit your homeland?”

“Oh?” Your brow quirks up, as your hands find their way to your hips.

“And then who’d be here to repair the tears in your robe when you inevitably step on them?” Obviously unimpressed by his suggestion.

“Surely there are other talented tailors here that can handle the task,” he rebukes.

“Oh? Will they also untangle your hair from the ornamentation of chairs?” You press on.

“I can manage.”

“Then can the Chief Justice also manage all the uniforms for the Melusines? Can he sew every button and ensure they fit correctly?”

Ah, with your last statement, Neuvillette concedes. A hush fills the room.

The Melusines are still new to walking amongst humans, not many were willing to tailor specialized uniforms for their short stature. Thus, you took up the mantle.

Perhaps out of a sense of responsibility, it was you who stirred their curiosity with those sweets of yours.

It seems responsibilities tethered you to the Court of Fontaine, much like they did to him. After a few breaths, as always, your voice shatters the stalemate.

“I’m not upset, Neuvi.”

With those words, his lilac eyes finally connect with yours. Finally able to see the soft curls at the corners of your lips.

It indeed has been a while since he last saw such a sight.

This time instead of replying with an excuse, he responds with a gentle hum.

“Ugh, why are your curtains so dusty? When was the last time you went outside?” It wasn’t long before your attention returned to the state of his office.

Strolling past his desk, your hands began to fuss with the thick drapes. Pouting at the dust that coated the lush fabrics.

All Neuvillette could do was follow with his gaze, papers long pushed to the side as for the first time in a while, an azure hue was seen peeking through the clouds.

From his observations, it’s instinctive for humans to avoid pain. However, it’d be hypocritical of him to judge mortals for actions he’s been guilty of.

“If I knew I had to work this hard now, I would’ve skipped more chores back at the estate,” you chuckle, pulling back the drapes to allow gold to illuminate his office.

To have loved and have been loved in return.

Was this the human rationale behind taming a dog? Having the reality of the future constantly lurking over each happy moment as the hands of time tick forward.

Why do humans dote on pets? Creatures that only live a fraction of a mortal life?

Are happy memories a fair exchange for bitter grief, or are they the cure?

As Neuvillette counts the strands of peeking silver that mingle within your lush locks, he prays he finds the answer soon.

The clacks of ornate shoes reverberate down once unfamiliar halls, a towering figure lurks past bustling nurses who bow their heads at the sight of the Chief Justice as he passes by.

With a body like his, there is no reason for him to wander among these halls. Or more accurately, there once was no reason.

The taps of his soles slowed as a familiar door came into view, the only detail which differentiated it from the rest of the hall being the brass numbers displayed. Bringing up a glove-clothed knuckle, delicate taps were placed against the wood.

Almost immediately, a muffled ‘come in’ resounded behind the frame. Granting the Iudex permission to turn the polished knob, allowing him entry as the hinges sang their welcome.

“My, my, if it isn’t Monsieur Neuvillette, to whom do I owe the pleasure?” A grin spreads across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes.

Instantly his frame stiffens in the midst of returning the door to its frame. Bringing his free hand up to his face, Neuvillette coughs as to compose himself once more.

“Please, forgo the formalities.”

Though your eyes might not be as sharp as they once were, the delicate dusting of pink along his pointed ears couldn’t escape their sight. Making your eyes crinkle more.

Feeling entertained enough, you cease your teasing and gesture toward the vacant chair beside your bed.

Obediently, his towering figure strides up to the seat, the wood squeaking under his weight as he settles onto it.

By now, the dragon has grown accustomed the structure of greetings, beginning with a layer of pleasantries.

“How have you been fairing?” Lavender eyes scrutinize the sheets and pillows, searching for any unapparent flaws.

“It’s just a mild case of pneumonia,” you muse aloud.

Momentarily resting his eyes behind a slow blink, all he could do was sigh at your brazen nonchalantness. Yet with a ghost of a smile on the same lips that sighed.

It was a mild case of pneumonia, a common ailment during the frosty months. For someone as steadfast as you, such an illness might’ve surrendered to your stubbornness.

It might've surrendered… if your body had remained as it once was.

How unfortunate it all is, that time is so cruel to mortal creatures.

Attentive eyes detailing each crease that settled by your lips, remnants of the many grins and laughs that stretched your face.

The basking light of a selfish star catches in your hair, lush hues that have faded to brilliant ivory. A shade that you often compare to his while jesting, ‘We match now’.

However, Neuvillette begs to differ, the sunlight is much more luminous in your tresses.

Trailing his sights back to your gaze. Deep lines formed by countless dynamic expressions drew attention to the glimmer forever present in your irises. Like paths on a map that led lilac eyes to yours.

“How are you finding your stay?” At times, Neuvillette found himself wondering how the azure tides appeared from your view.

“Mm, quite uneventful, eating, staring out a window, sleeping.”

He hums in response, contemplating if he should inquire you about such subjects. As you ramble, perhaps the dragon could grasp onto an inkling of understanding.

“Well, at least I can say that my stay has been anything but lonely.” Your eyes motioning toward a corner.

The bland, sterile wall overshadowed by a mass comprised of trinkets ranging from local flowers to any object whose surface catches light.

The heap grows day by day as each Melusine continues to bring their earnest gratitude to the human who sew each stitch of their coats. A sight that could stir even the most placid lake.

“They’re such sweethearts.” Each one of your words coated with endearment.

Once more, all the dragon could respond with was a mellow hum. Slow breaths fill the complacent silence between two species, one blessed by time and one shunned by it.

Neuvillette has grown accustomed to the structure of conversations but, alas, he still has no talent for small talk.

In the absence of dialogue, the layer of short pleasantries long dissolving, Neuvillette is left with nothing but his inquiries. It was all he had left, and so it was all he could offer.

“Are there any regrets you hold?”

“Oh oh? Getting sentimental so out of the blue, Neuvi?” A familiar quirk graces your brow.

“It’s nothing of the sort, just a musing that drifted in my mind during a stroll, I wish to know your thoughts on the matter.”

“Mmm… I don’t feel that I have any regrets, living an honest life and having the fortune to never have stepped foot in the Fortress of Meropide.”

“Is that really all? You never did get to travel like you dreamed of back at the estate.”

“Haha, trying to stump me with that, Neuvi?” you chuckle.

Relaxing more into the pillows which propped up your weary frame, you trail your sights toward the window.

“Didn’t I tell you already? I’ll have plenty of time to travel once I become a cloud, I can go everywhere the sky can reach.” Smile softening on your lips.

Neuvillette’s folded hands grasp one another tighter on his lap, his own lips pressing each other into a thin line.

The conversation was teetering closer and closer to the unspoken reality looming like a shadow in the room.

He wasn’t sure when it started, maybe when the first silver strands appeared in your hair or when you discovered his skin won’t wrinkle along with you.

He wasn’t sure when your adamant belief of becoming a cloud once the shadow came to claim you started.

Neuvillette wonders if this daydream was the product of those fables you browsed when you laid upon a plush rug.

Or was it your personally crafted fable to explain the incomprehensible to a creature who couldn’t fully grasp it?

A creature whose skin didn’t wrinkle, whose bones didn’t grow brittle. A creature seemingly untouched by time.

Fairytales do serve this purpose for children, magical fantasies to make uncomfortable realities palatable to naive minds.

“...vi?... Ne…?... Neuvi.”

A hand marred with age takes hold of one glove-clad hand, and a pleasant heat radiates through the leather. Coaxing Neuvillette’s attention back from its escapade.

“My apologies, I was lost in thought for a moment.” He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

But the frown weighing down on your lips didn’t disappear, much like how retreating into musings couldn’t wash away any shadows.

Your chest moves with a deep inhale.

“Maybe I do have one regret,” you began.

Readjusting your ailing fingers in his hold so that he could hold them with equal endearment, his ears concentrate on your voice.

“Actually, I have many,” you sigh.

Before he could formulate a response, you continued.

“I wish I could have shoulder the burdens you carry. I wish you would’ve shared them with me. And I wish I could even understand them, then maybe I could have understood you more.” Turning to face him, your disheartened eyes center on his frame.

A child born from a maid, a maid who traveled to Fontaine in hopes of a better future for her child. That was your origin, an outsider with neither fame nor fortune.

Thus, even as you followed him from a secluded estate to the grand Palais Mermonia, you could never follow him in status nor influence.

As unrest grew, as injustices mounted, and as tragedies took away friends.

All you could do was repair tears, sew buttons, and pour him a crisp glass of spring water as you waited for the storm to wash despair away.

That was how you saw it. But Neuvillette rebukes that notion.

The dignity of a newly established Chief Justice, who kept stepping on his overly ornate robes, was carefully maintained by you.

The Melusine’s uniforms, which solidified their presence in the human world, were crafted by you.

The patient hand that always offered silent comfort in the suffocating courts was yours.

Standing by his side, even as your bones grew to ache, to ensure the storm would pass and the sun emerge once more.

“You’ve done more than enough.” He states the truth, grasping your hand just a bit tighter.

“Are you sure?” Those airy chuckles of yours made their appearance again.

“I never even learned your real name,” you interject.

A knife, red hot and fresh from the forge, would have hurt less than the guilt which tore through him at that moment.

The Chief Justice, the symbol of honesty and conviction, is unable to tell the simplest truth.

What shall he do now?

The power of a name is often underestimated, the exchanging of names signifying the forging of a bond. One that would forever tether him to you and you to him.

Oh, what shall he do now?

Before his hesitant lips could take action, they were halted by a squeeze from your ailing grasp. Firm and warm, like a light that guides him up from the bottom of a turbulent ocean.

“You don’t have to tell me now, Neuvi, tell me when I come back from my trip.” Those gentle eyes of yours smile at him.

Reeling his hand in closer to you with your own, until the softness of your lips was felt along covered knuckles.

A common practice in Fontaine, one Neuvillette had witnessed time and time again as he passed the lovers who congregated by the Fountain of Leucine. Actions that dedicated promises to one another.

“I swear, once I’ve traveled enough, once I grow bored of foreign scenery, I’ll fall back down like rain to your side.” You whisper into the kiss.

It was his turn now, and he shall honor this ritual. Tenderly bringing in your hand to him, Neuvillette places his oath.

“Then I swear, when you return, I’ll tell you my name.” He whispers in the kiss.

The sterile rooms echo your airy chuckles as he keeps your hand close to himself for just a bit longer.

“Mmm… Where I should go first? Maybe I’ll just amble about,” you ponder aloud.

Gracing him with a smile which stretched your face and brought that familiar glimmer into your eyes.

“I wish you well on your travels.” Neuvillette presses another kiss into your knuckles.

–

Spring was always the rainy season for Fontaine, with gentle temperate showers to welcome the budding blooms back from their Winter sleep.

However, this year the torrential downpour was anything but gentle.

Planned trips canceled for the season, clothes remaining damp in baskets, and streets empty of their vigor. Even the Melusines couldn’t bring a skip to their steps.

It was as if time itself was slowed by the burdensome downpour.

The cawing of crows as their wings beat against the dreary winds adds to the lonely hymn sung by the raindrops.

At once the cadence of the rain increased, the downpour growing heavier, and the violent pattering grew deafening. As if the sky was now belting out their sorrowful ballad.

The rain could try. The skies can cry all they would like. But time, a cruel and unforgiving mistress, won’t ever stop.

To have loved and been loved, was it truly enough?

In Neuvillete’s eyes, he was the tide and you were the shore. The ebb and flow of water as the tide and shore met, time and time again.

Each crash into the shore stirred up something perplexing and disorderly within the tide, irritating like the sand that mixed into the pristine waves.

So the tide tried to retreat into the lonesome ocean.

Each time, the shore followed through grains of sand which the tide couldn’t ever seem to purge himself of.

Each time, the shore beckoned the tide to return to the sandy beaches of humanity filled with perplexities and disorder.

And each time, the tide surrendered to the call of the shore, lured in by its warmth.

But now, the shore has eroded away.

Where does the tide go now?

Drifting now in the vastness of a lonesome ocean, carrying nothing grains of sand. What shall the tide do now?

Neuvillette still has a lot to learn, for he couldn’t answer this riddle conjured by his own mind.

Unable to stop himself, the lone dragon stares off into the rain.

Eyes honing in the direction of a peaceful hill, one where a mother and child were laid to rest side by side overlooking a homeland they never got to visit.

Maybe that was the first destination of your journey.

During these past short years spent in this land, the young successor of the dragons has gained traitorous knowledge. One that undermines his preconceived purpose.

Neuvillette feels he’s grasped onto the faintest inkling of why humans, as fickle, perplexing, and fleeting as they are, were still the most beloved creatures of the gods.

Perhaps, he even understands now why those usurpers were willing to uproot the earth just for those beloved creatures.

The wet season transitions into the dry season, then the dry season will transition into another wet season. Again and again, on and on as the hands of a clock ticks forward.

Each new tick signifies another step forward in the march of time.

Each step brings change and each step pulls the present away from the past.

The rainy season of Spring was no longer as troublesome as it once was, as there was now a machine on the market that could dry clothes without the help of a bright star.

Melusines skip along down the paved paths of the Court of Fontaine as humans turn to greet them with endearing smiles.

New cafes line bustling streets as Clockwork Mekas make their evening patrols.

A great many changes have come to Fontaine, Neuvillette witnessed them all from his office at the Palais Mermonia.

A great many changes, yet some things are bound to stay the same. For example, the Chief Justice’s fondness for strolls along vacant riverbanks.

The gentle patters of raindrops lull the chaotic sympathy of trials, paperwork, and duties to a standstill. Reaching a hand out in front of him, Neuvillette catches a few drops in the palm of his gloved hand.

Lilac eyes examine the diminutive puddle in his hand before ultimately releasing the water back to the earth.

He supposes he’s been feeling a bit nostalgic as of late, like a child recalling a story which once soothed them to a peaceful slumber. How childish it was for him to believe he could somehow catch a certain raindrop in his hands.

Turning up toward the drab sky, he searches through the endless and identical droplets that fall down and leave trails along his face.

No, not yet. Perhaps they have yet to see all that the sky has to offer.

Neuvillette returns his focus to the path in front of him. The rhythmic clacks of his shoes match with the soft drumming of the rain, and in the midst of this harmony a voice singings out:

“Hydro dragon… uh… Hydro dragon, don’t cry.”

Halting his stride. Judging by the unfamiliarity of their tongue pronouncing the lullaby, Neuvillette deduces they must be a visitor to Fontaine.

Ah that local legend, just how far has it spread? Nevertheless, an unfortunate traveler who’s unfamiliar with Fontaine’s seasons is now caught in this rain.

It would only be polite to offer them some assistance as the Iudex of this nation. Thus, he turns in the direction of the call.

His suspicions were confirmed once his gaze landed on a distressed frame, their face obscured by the jacket they held over their head in a makeshift umbrella.

It only took a few steps for the towering man to make it to their side.

“There is a tree you can take shelter under just ahead,” he advises the lost traveler.

Now aware of his presence in front of them, they lifted the jacket from their line of sight to peer up at him. Revealing the details of their face to lilac eyes for the first time.

That was all it took for the symphony of rain to come to an end.

Soft drumming decrescendos into tranquility. It seems as if there will be an earlier welcome of flowers.

“Oh?” You gaze up at the azure hue now peeking out from receding gray, astonishment reflected in the glimmer of your eyes.

You’ve only heard of a local Fontainian legend from a guide pamphlet offered to tourists as you awaited the Aquabus.

When the rain suddenly began to pour as you ambled about a riverside, in a moment of desperation as you scrambled for shelter under a thin jacket you uttered the phrase.

You weren’t sure if the hydro dragon could understand your botched pronunciation, but it looks like he did.

Turning back to face the kind stranger, you wanted to convey your amazement to him. But the words fade just off the tip of your tongue when you peek back at the towering man.

Your eyebrows scrunch together as dumbstruck eyes widen at the sight of the drenched man.

“Mister?… Are you alright?” You scan over him, turning your attention away to sift through your pockets.

How bewildering it must be for you to witness a well-dressed and noble figure drenched to the bone. However, Neuvillette made no attempt to stop the rivulets rolling down his cheeks, a parting gift from the Spring showers.

He wonders as his gaze never left your frame, were tears perhaps this warm too?

“Here.” Your concern-ridden hand offers up a neatly folded handkerchief to the drenched man.

As your eyes connect with his, a strange sensation tickled the back of your mind. As if it was trying to recall where you’ve seen the familiar lavender hue.

Maybe they matched the shade of a flower field you stumbled upon during your travels, or maybe that lilac luster was revealed to you in a dream.

A strange familiarity you couldn’t name.

“Thank you very much.” He accepts the simple piece of cloth with tenderness rivaling that of conservators handing the renowned paintings of old masters.

The clouds were long gone by now, perhaps they felt that their purpose had long been fulfilled. The golden rays of a lone star shone with all their brilliance, finally free from behind their blanket of drap clouds.

It was only now that Neuvillette found out. The rain he had been yearning for all these years did in fact see all that the sky had to offer.

They had grown bored of drifting over vast plains, missing the picturesque countryside of Fontaine. Or perhaps their curiosity grew too great, wishing to finally hear a truth that was kept from them.

So much so, they quietly fell down from the sky, to return to his side again.

Much like the hands in a clock, the cycle of water and earth follows a similar circular path.

The rain had eroded away stubborn earth with its diligent drumming over the years.

Bit by bit and piece by piece until stone fractures into bits of sand. Over and over until a sandy beach was formed by the side of a patient sea.

Then the tide will reunite with its long-awaited shore, to return the sand and promise it cradled within its waves for so long.

~Fin

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.

#vivalabunbunfics #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette #genshin impact x reader #genshin angst #genshin fluff #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #neuvillete x reader #neuvilette x reader #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette angst #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #neuvillette headcanons #neuvillette x y/n #neuvilette x you

2K notes · View notes

seph-ic · 1 year

Text

My favorite thing ever?

Nico has a service dog

Because after Mr. D diagnoses him with PTSD he feels kind of hopeless and overwhelmed (especially after her hears that it can’t be easily fixed with magic or anything)

So Mr D. Suggests that he get a service animal.

Nico argues that animals hate him because he ‘smells like death’. Mr. D Points out that Mrs O’Leary doesn’t hate him.

They both go talk to Hades who jumps at the excuse to win back his son by buying him more stuff.

The dog ends up being a hellhound mix (don’t ask how.)

The mix is mostly so she is a bit smaller for convenience (so she can fit in places.)

I'd assume she looks something like a Burmese mountain dog mix.

Her names Penelope (Penny) and Nico loves her.

Nico and Her spend a couple of months doing service dog training with Artemis and the hunters (dogs are one of her patron animals.)

the time he spends with them also gives him a bit of closure and helps him process what happened to his sister.

soon enough she's graduated their honorary service dog school and is fully trained.

She goes with Nico everywhere. Since she is half hellhound she can assist with shadow travel and make it easier for Nico. (To Wills relief)

She helps Nico with panic attacks and nightmares.

She grabs things for him (KitKats, sword, water, pillows.)

she can even open the fridge in the big house.

If Nico is having a really bad episode or a flashback he can’t come out of or if he’s in any physical danger, she knows to go get Will Chiron or MR D. In a heartbeat.

Again a shadow traveling dog being useful.

Will makes extra sure that everyone at camp is aware of how service animals work.

He teaches all the campers about what Penny's job is and why they’re not allowed to distract her.

On occasion when she isn't working she'll play fetch or get pets from some of the kids.

All Nicos freind's and family love her.

Like everyone wants to be a part of this dogs life, Nico has literally never been more popular.

Hazel buys her a sweater for the holidays.

Rachel helps Nico also dye part of her tail at one point (to keep her identifiable) and they give it a cool design.

Annabeth asks if she can make her a cool dog house.

Piper insists that they take her to the groomer and buys her little bandannas.

Percy helps Nico teach her how to swim.

She will also grabs medical supplies for Will sometimes.

Grover also knows how to talk to her and regularly lets her know how Nico is doing (not that she doesn't already know.)

Nico finds it easier to eat with Penelope.

It kind of forces him to eat on a schedule, since Penny has to be fed three times a day and the two of them can eat at the same time.

Nico also gives her little scraps off his plate sometimes which makes them both happy.

She gets absolutely spoiled.

At one point Nico gets worried that she might get hurt fighting a monster. Hades assured him she won’t but Leo makes her some extra cool dog armor just in case

She also has a little bag attached to her vest for carrying supplies on quests and long journeys. (list of things these bags might contain: Ambrosia, Dog treats, Water/kitkats, extra weapons, drachmas.)

Nico connects so well with this fucking dog.

Like he always struggled with people and he never really even considered being an animal person.

But he absolutely adores Penny.

He talks to her about things that worry him and just finds her presence so unbelievably comforting.

Will solace (who I think personally would become a vet sooner than a doctor) Has this dog on the best fucking diet you could imagine

you have never seen a more medically healthy dog.

And she ADORES Will

Partially because of how calmer Nico is with him, and partially because he keeps a treat jar in the infirmary now.

The best part! she cannot die (from old age at least) Immortal service dog!

Having a huge fluffy head is great for pressure therapy.

Nico (neurodivergent) likes the texture of her fur and stims by petting her or playing with her ears.

#the best girl ever #pjo #percy jackson #nico di angelo #hoo #percy jackon and the olympians #solangelo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson fanart #nico di angelo fanart #pjo hcs #nico pjo #toa #nico service dog au

4K notes · View notes

thisonehere · 7 months

Text

The webs we weave

You are the weaver, once a mere mortal(???) who centuries ago challenged Liu Kang to a weaving competition. The loser had to grant a request from the winner. Spoiler alert: you won. Your request: Immortality and eternal youth and beauty. The usual. Nowadays you are known across the realms for your work... among other things.

Shang Tsung, Kung Lao, Johnny Cage, Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Kitana, Mileena, & Liu Kang

A/N: Serious intros mixed with flirting and just the right amount of almost-smut. Be sure to send any other ideas you might have.

Shang Tsung

Y/n: Does my skill flatter you, sorcerer?

Shang Tsung: It amuses, maybe I'll let you live after all.

Shang Tsung: I must say, now that I see your work in person. It's quite... mediocre.

Y/n: Mediocre? MEDIOCRE?

Shang Tsung: That Liu Kang lost to you speaks volumes.

Y/n: I can say the same about you losing to him.

Y/n: You're... you're very charming for a villain.

Shang Tsung: Do I make you weak in the knees, Y/n?

Shang Tsung: That silk coat you made me had acidic venom in the fibers!

Y/n: *grins* Oops.

Y/n: The silk sheets have been crafted as you requested.

Shang Tsung: Excellent, now I just need you on them to make it complete.

Kung Lao

Kung Lao: I need a new costume, something that matches my greatness.

Y/n: Of course, I think I have some leftover pieces of scrap from Raiden.

Kung Lao: You know what, I like you.

Y/n: *rolls eyes* Wow, thank you so much. Your validating me makes me feel so special.

Y/n: What would you like me to make you?

Kung Lao: A nice, big, soft cover. We'll need it for our honeymoon.

Kung Lao: Why do you have so many spiders?

Y/n: I like having company as I spin my threads.

Y/n: Keep you and your hat out of my workshop!

Kung Lao: Oh come on, all I did was accidentally cut some of the work that took you years to complete.

Kung Lao: You should come with me to Madam Bo's.

Y/n: NO. My tab with her is big enough.

Johnny Cage

Johnny: If I knew spiders could be so hot, I'd still smash them all day.

Y/n: I'll never forgive you for killing Gunter!

Johnny: I've got this sweet idea for a new look.

Y/n: Of course, but I'll need your measurements... I need you to get naked, Johnny.

Johnny: Just so you know, I'm cool with doing nudity.

Y/n: Johnny, I'm a weaver, not a sculptor.

Johnny: You got to become my costume designer, we'd kill it on the red carpet.

Y/n: That would be a dream, Johnny!

Johnny: Y/n..that's such a beautiful name. It almost makes me want to sing.

Y/n: Please don't, your musical flopped for a reason.

Johnny: I don't think Christina will ever come back.

Y/n: Remember Johnny, I'll be here for you...With open arms, open legs, and an open mouth.

Bi-Han

Y/n: I'll make nothing for you!

Bi-Han: Good, I want you, not your talents.

Bi-Han: You are living proof of Liu Kang's incompetence.

Y/n: Says the man who lost to two farmers.

Bi-Han: I was holding back against Raiden and Kung Lao.

Y/n: Oh, Bi-Han, you don't need to lie to impress me.

Bi-Han: I'll freeze your little insects and leave you defenseless.

Y/n: A. They're Arachnida, B. Pick up a book, and C. Some of us like the cold.

Y/n: Your bed must be so cold.

Bi-Han: Come lay in it with me and find out.

Bi-Han: Let me guess, you think your love can "fix me"?

Y/n: Who said I wanted to fix you?

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang: Your growing relationship with Bi-Han is concerning.

Y/n: Oh Kuai, don't tell me you're getting jealous.

Y/n: Come to me, Scorpion. I burn for you.

Kuai Liang: You've been spending too much time with Johnny.

Y/n: Perhaps you and I coul-

Kuai Liang: I'm sorry, but I'm spoken for.

Kuai Liang: Harumi loved the tapestry.

Y/n: Only the best for her.

Y/n: Are sure?

Kuai Liang: The feeling I had for you are gone now.

Kuai Liang: What have you been planning?

Y/n: Just a little present for your wedding, specifically for the honeymoon.

Kitana

Kitana: Can I hope to have your loyalty in my ongoing battle with Shao?

Y/n: I guess we both shall see.

Kitana: You beat Lord Liu Kang!?

Y/n: Of course, when it comes to combat he is my superior, but no man can best me in my craft.

Kitana: I must say, the stories about you do not do your talents or your beauty justice.

Y/n: What exactly do those stories say?

Kitana: Have you ever considered silk worms rather than spiders?

Y/n: *blech* Never, they're gross, slow, and squishy, and worse, they're all gossips.

Y/n: I already have the train ready, just needs some more embroidery.

Titan Kitana: Train? Are you making me a wedding dress?

Y/n: You and Liu Kang are so cute together.

Titan Kitana: I thank you for being so approving, but our relationship is really none of your business.

Mileena

Y/n: Why do you stare, Empress?

Mileena: I don't know, something about all those bugs around you seems...familiar...

Mileena: Your ascension to the plain of the immortals is most admirable.

Y/n: Perhaps there are some things I may be able to teach you Empress.

Mileena: Are you making wedding attire for Titan Kitana and Lord Liu Kang?

Y/n: Of course, but don't be jealous, I already have something special for you and Tanya.

Mileena: Perhaps you may stay a bit longer, teach me some of your trade.

Y/n: Of course, Empress.

Mileena: *Bloodlusted* I will rip your tongue out from through your cheek!

Y/n: Ooohhhh, cheeky.

Mileena: When I am done with you I will burn all your work to ashes for what you did!

Y/n: No, please! Mercy, MERCY!!!

Liu Kang

Y/n: You knew I'd win?

Liu Kang: I can recognize talent when I see it.

Y/n: Why did you accept my challenge even though you knew you'd lose?

Liu Kang: I was hoping for a chance to be near you.

Y/n: Who is this D'vorrah? Geras said I reminded him of her.

Liu Kang: Nothing should concern you.

Liu Kang: Please, I ask you, keep your distance from raiden.

Y/n: Why? Worried that I'll tempt your little champion?

Liu Kang: You made me a wedding dress?

Y/n: Of course, I see you as much more of a dress-wearing type of man rather than a boring old tuxedo.

Liu Kang: Be careful, Y/n, your hubris can lead to your downfall.

Y/n: What is wrong with showing a little pride in my work?

593 notes · View notes

rinbowaman · 12 days

Text

WARNINGS: This is written in Heethan’s y/n perspective, mentions of ritualistic killings, alternative universes, religious references (some accurate and some fictional), all heeleads, all y/n’s, references to SE7EN, MERMAIDS TALE, MGR/MRE/HHP, THE OTHERSIDE and DOUBLE TROUBLE (I would high suggest reading all these series before reading this), unprotected smut, angels and demons, angels are bad guys, devils are good guys, kidnapping, time and space travel, alternate characters, some cursing, grotesque language, sexual tension, some fluff, and some intermingling moments, (enough to give you some ideas 😏) images and smaus attached, cliche rescue mission, and I think that’s it.

A/N: this was just an idea that came to mind as I was listening to music. A fun read.

Turmoil stirs the middle of the sky, a collection of debris, dust, and smoke circulate within it. The strong current of gravitational force absorbs bits and pieces of man-made features, further expanding its reign of terror.

It was a force to be reckoned with, a whirlwind of evil spirits, angels, and demons combined, formulating an abomination that was neither Heaven, nor Hell. Two worlds of entities unite, all embracing the common ground that humans were a non-sensible creation by God. In their eyes, humans were nothing but livestock for the immortals.

The senior head of this ritualistic army had an idea—a new image for the aged world, where unearthly entities would herd and breed the human race…In preparation for the grand feast. With this process in place, the world would be controlled by themselves, gaining power to extend their influence through alternate space and time. All the parallel universes that were constantly being created, would become restricted, ceasing the expansion of human life.

“My followers…the time has come where we need to take back what is owed to us. WE have lurked in darkness far too long, feeding on the scraps of these scavengers…these HUMANS!” His head contained three faces, one centered and nestled in between the two disfigured profiles. Their mouths remained wide open, agasp with horror while the center focal features did all the talking, carrying all the range of emotions. “WE have been betrayed by both, God and the Devil…the two fathers who should have been nurturing us, ignored our caution instead. They turned their backs on us; made us starve as we craved for sustenance and glory…but no more! Today, we strike and take the blood of the most beloved, the one who carries the light of God, and the blood of Lucifer! This I pray…my demons of carnage, and angels of darkness…do not stop at just the one…take them all! Search through every vortex of this abysmal continent. Go above the universal horizon, far and wide through space and time, and gather your efforts— leave no part of the cosmic galaxy unturned. Raid the entire universes, all worlds, and bring me her adaptations. Bring forth every variation of her current soul, so that we may tear, grind, and feast on that delicate flesh…let us hit them where it hurts most…let us seek to make God cry, and break the heart of the Devil.”

The spawn of angels and demons scatter in mass multitudes, covering the entire sky while they surpass greater heights, surrounding their numbers across every comet and planet.

Finding you in this world was simple. Entirely too easy…

Like any other given day, you sat in class next to h/n, drafting the primary notes as your professor read the lecture aloud. The yelling of a fellow classmate startled the entire classroom, catching everyone off guard.

“What the fuck is that?!”

Everyone turned to view the scenery outside the window. The light blue sky grows dark, as the horizon blackened with a darkened hue. The foliage draping the tree branches suddenly shriveled and died off. The air around the building turned black; everyone became frantic and ignored the professor's false sense of composure. He tried his best but it was easy to see that he too was frightened and didn’t know how to handle the stirring frenzy that took place inside the room.

“What the Hell is going on?! Why did the sky get so dark all of a sudden?” H/n spoke out with tears glossing over her eyes as the girl sitting next to her called home. She hectically informs her mother of the unknowns that were happening outside the campus, all the while you barely spoke, or reacted as you overheard the girl's decree. The shock of it all stunned you; it wasn’t until your phone began buzzing that you came back to your senses.

The moment his own classmates sporadically spiraled out of control, Heeseung wasted no time in getting out. He had to get to you.

You were the first priority on his list. Ignoring his own safety, he bursts through the door— the only one brave enough to kick it wide open before sprinting towards the parking lot. Everyone whispered and spoke harshly as they watched the young man making his way over to you. God help anyone if something happens to you.

In an instant, everything turned upside down. You’re not sure what or how it happened, but it felt as if a group of hands were pulling you from side to side, pushing and tugging at the same time. Looking around, it seemed as if time was at a standstill. The entire class paused in mid motion, gravity lost its effect as students jumping out the window were stationed in mid air, unmoved. What was going on? Were you the only one that could move? The only one that wasn’t affected by this loss of motion? If so….did that mean that Heeseung…

……..

It occurred in a blink of an eye.

What the hell just happened? For a moment, Heeseung felt as if his heart had stopped beating. It happened during mid drive, when suddenly the roaring engine slurred, and the small bit of ash and debris in the air slowed until they froze in place. It wasn’t long before his own movements came to a pause, and before he knew it, he could no longer breathe. It was odd, despite not being able to take in air, the pressure from his chest was fine, almost as if he was holding his own breath.

It held on for two seconds before the distant sound of the engine grew louder and the tires resumed rotation, causing a sudden screeching noise to puncture his ears. What the fuck…!

The only thing that lingered on his mind was you. Shit…y/n! Hold on baby…

By the time he reached the building, merely two minutes after receiving your last text, you had already been taken.

Everyone stood wondering just the same as to what had occurred. They looked around and noticed nothing out of the ordinary, except when h/n pointed out your sudden absence. “Huh?…Anyone seen where y/n went? She was just right…here….”

Her voice subtly pauses as Heeseung silently walks through the double doors, with you nowhere in sight…his heart dropped to his stomach and a total sense of despair hit him. He wanted to die…he wanted to shake the earth to its core and kill off every bit of life that coated the surface. A state of hopelessness and emptiness fills him.

‘Y/n…’

…….

One by one, the entities visited alternate universes and found four more women, conjoining them as prisoners and leaving you all chained in a row. Brought forth, you all were all scanned with a morbid look of satisfaction as an alienated, metallic figure screeched through hundreds of jagged teeth, directing its elongated fingers to a specific direction. It was communicating with its more fleshy counterparts.

They marched you and the remaining maidens into a large bunker, nearly shoving you all down the uneasy steps. Once inside, a single light source allows you to take in the view of the abrupt companionship you were forced to confront.

‘Is…is this for real?’

The strangest phenomenon you ever witnessed. It was as if you were staring into a mirror, or a twin…several twin versions in fact.

These girls…they were…you. Some of them displayed subtle alterations of your appearance such as hair and eye color, even a small difference in age. But make no mistake, you pinched the skin on your arm as you confirmed that indeed, you were seeing yourself in various substitutions.

“I…don’t believe this…are you all….who are you?” One of the girls reflected aloud. Just as lost as you were, each one took a moment to observe the variations of…you.

A terrifying screech sounds off outside the bunker, similar to that of the metallic humanoid creature from earlier.

“What are those things?” The one who spoke, she looked and sounded exactly like you. It was such a surreal experience to see this happening in real time.

She looked more mature. With her sense of style and elegance, she encompassed the very essence of classy feminine virtue, a version that you always saw in yourself in the near future, when you were married and already graduated from college. Her hair and eye color were lighter than yours, but the structure of her face and body, the finer details of her expression and features were an exact match to your own.

“Does anyone know why we are here? What do those things want from us?” another variation of yourself spoke delicately.

Unlike the latter, who had hair that was fair and eyes that sparkled in chromes of light blue, this one had dark forest green hair, and feline eyes, which were both fierce and strikingly beautiful. She had the appeal of one with great wisdom and maturity, a variation of yourself that you never could imagine would exist. She continued to speak, pondering on the forceful monsters that wreaked havoc above and outside the bunker. “The one we saw earlier, whose body looked like metal, was that a...”

A calm voice speaks gracefully, politely inserting into the conversation. Her voice was slightly deeper, and tranquil, but not as twinkling as the one who carried the forest green locks. With those lips, stained blood red and coated with a subtle shine, she answers…“They’re angels.”

Everyone else turned to face in her direction. You all stared and admired the royal grace she portrays in her stance, it gave off an aura that reflected her higher age. It didn’t appear in her face, but it was through her persona and posture. Just like the one with the emerald strands, she displayed elegance in all aspects; her features, tone, and strut. Of all the variations that stood before you, she was the one you became most curious about.

“Angels? As in…from heaven?” Another variation, except this one seemed much more calm—perhaps too much.

Her lids were heavy and she spoke with a monotone voice. Her hair was stained a deep and vibrant color. It looked somewhat fresh, and contained a specific shade of purple, but not just any code of the color. It was not lavender, violet, or even muave, but more like a royal purple…it was as if the color was mixed specifically to match a certain shade. Maybe a particular flower? Perhaps it was made to match a blouse, or a type of fabric, like silk.

Noticing her demeanor, you couldn’t help but feel sorry as you took pity on this image of yourself; one that carried a dark sadness around, yet somehow flared a sense of contentment. It was contradicting, yet there eas something else that you couldn’t pin down about her. Almost as if she was carrying a nightmarish secret, but did it out of protection. Only question was, who is she protecting? Was it herself? Or could it be…?

You catch yourself drifting in thought when one of the girls asks your age. She inquired by stating that you looked the youngest, which was confirmed correct after you answered. Between you and your alternate state of beings, your ages ranged from eighteen to twenty eight, the latter title of the eldest belonging to the one with the dark burgundy lips.

She gazes up to the cathedral ceiling and crosses her arms, speaking out each word so confidently. Her hair was dark, nearly black with a deep, red hue…like red wine, and nails to match. She radiated a contrasting theme of goth and sensual femininity, like light and darkness combined. Everyone thought the same as they pondered on the mysteriously alluring sense of their alternate identity.

“Angels? How do you know? Have you seen them before?” The eldest one nods in response. Her eyes were heavy, as if she experienced a loss in energy recently. Still, she remained ever so composed and fashionable in Vogue like nature. You couldn’t help but think it, as somewhat narcissistic the thought may have seemed, but you found yourself idolizing what very much was the future outlook of yourself.

“This is so strange…it’s so weird to see…you…or me…I mean….what are we, exactly?” You sputtered as you make eye contact with the seldom one with the royal purple thatch of hair. She smiled softly and was the first one to respond.

“I am almost sure what our names will be, but I’ll be the first to say it…my name is y/n…”

Everyone snapped their heads up and chuckled in delight. Finally, a sense of relaxed humor amongst this terrifying ordeal. “We all have the same name?” The fairer version of you spoke, admitting for all of you to find comfort within each other.

The former y/n continued. “I guess we do.” You smile sweetly as you inquire about her background, to which she gently responds. “I worked as a consultant after graduating college and… “ she pauses, catching her breath. It was evident that the girl had been through a traumatizing experience, or maybe was still going through it all. Yet she displayed some fortitude as she completed her sentence. “I live with my husband…somehow I was brought here and I don’t have any memory of it. It happened so fast.”

“Me too….” The fairer one spoke. Her shiny hair gracefully rested beneath her collarbones as she spoke through her matte rosy stained lips. A beautiful combination. You couldn’t get over this experience, It was miraculous to see yourself with those featured traits. You wondered if variations of those closest to you exist, like Heeseung, Jake, and H/n. The thought of the three suppressed your slight bit of happiness as you wondered if you’d be able to escape with the others.

“I live with my husband too…well…husbands, if we’re being completely open.”

You all perked a brow upon her words. Did those rosy lips just tell you correctly…“Husbands?”

She nods seldomly while interlocking her fingers above the waist, avoiding eye contact and instead, focusing on a spot on the floorboards. “Yes….my husbands are brothers…and through them I have two boys of my own.” She pauses as her eyes welt up. “I…was putting my boys to sleep when something pulled me away from them…it was strange…it almost seemed like time was standing still.”

“Me too!” You spoke out. “I saw the same thing when I was pulled away.”

The fairer one smiled at you. “You are still so young…a younger version of myself.” Her change of topic was so sudden but she could see it in your face, hear it in your voice, and see it in your movements; seeing you in fluid motion made her visit down memory lane. “Yes.” You answered as you returned the smile. “I'm almost finished with my first year at college…I live with my fiance in his dorm.”

You all chuckled.

“His dorm?” The fairer one teases. “Yes well…believe it or not I don’t really have a choice.” You jest, yet the statement held more truth than anything you ever admitted.

It didn’t take time to consider their reaction. Upon hinting at Heeseung’s dark and toxic nature, it soon became evident you weren’t the only one. Unknowingly, you would open up another path that you all shared in common.

“He keeps you there?” You nod as the one with the dark forest green hair spoke. “Ah…” she sighs. “Just like mine…at least he used to. Now…well, I gave up. There wasn’t any point in fighting it.”

She chuckles once more as she rubs her temples, finding the entire scenario ironic. “I too live with my husband…it started just as forcefully as your situation but it’s been over two years now…” she pauses. The rest of the girl’s all related, all but you.

“Well…it is forceful but…he has good intentions, doesn’t he?” You inquired as the one with the dark green hair looks back up. A faint smile dons her lips as her delicate nails caressed her chin. With beauty and truth to her tone, she responded, almost in caution of warning. “Just like your fiance, he has the best…and the worst intentions.”

“What about you? Are you also married to a psycho? Or two?” The one married to dual husbands jokes, stabbing at her own life as she includes the last variant into the conversation. The eldest; she was the most elusive one out of all of you.

Turning her face over, she delivers a soft gaze and looks at each one of you with such nurture in her expression. Through those dark burgundy lips, she spoke gently. “I do.” She lightly chuckles. “I live with my husband, and much like all of you…I didn’t really have a choice.”

Closing her eyes, she reopens with a fresh countenance. Licking her loose she chuckles and tilts her head, taking small steps over to you. She cups your face and displays a saddened look, yet it was paired with a sweet smile. Her gaze hinted that she knew something…or maybe she could see something within your future that made her pity you.

With her intuitional sense, and foresighting ability, she reveals your deepest secret.

“You have another side of you…one that is equal to his darker half.”

Was she referring to Eden and Ethan? But…how does she know?

You slightly gasp as you remained stunned by her words. She looks over to the one with the dark green hair. “You and your husband carry the blood of the ancient gods within you.”

In response, the sea maiden looked somewhat confused. “How could you possibly know that?”

The former admits partial truth to her own secret. “I know all…I can see all….I can see your most inner kept secrets just by looking into your eyes. It was a gift from my husband after we were…” she pauses after catching herself diving down to details to at may be too indiscreet. The image of Heeseung’s devilish form atop of her, probing and thrusting away was not something she wanted the girls to visualize…she rather not think about it herself, despite the progression of her relationship to the aforementioned male. “Married.”

She turns to the fairer one, and continues to prove her capabilities. “Your husbands sired their own twin sons within you, and through those babies, you found true love.” The latter looks down, almost shamefully. Yet the eldest tilts her chin up and whispers, “nothing wrong with that.” She winks and smiles, and watched as those rosy colored lips smirked delightfully. This was, after all, a safe space for sisters who share more than just identical traits. You were all connected, through fate and soul.

She looked to the one with the royal purple hair. “Your husband's deeds have haunted you. With nowhere to turn, you chose to return his love but you are ridden with sadness knowing that you are his cure.”

The purple haired y/n didn’t say a word, she only nodded in admittance while drifting her sight off to the wall.

“As for me…” she pauses as she faces the ceiling once more. “I made a deal with the Devil many years ago. Through it, I lost my mortality, and gained immortality…I am known as the mortal daughter of God, but rebirthed as the bride of Helel...my husband, and father to my son.”

“Helel?” Through her purple strands, the girl spoke out of confusion. Never has she heard such a distinctive name in her life.

Just as the conversation reached pause, the door to the bunker opens. A combination of the hostile angels and demons standby. A disfigured tone emits from their tongue as they point and begin separating you away from one another.

You felt scared upon seeing the fleshy demon grip your wrist, pulling you away as the others were being dragged into sporadic direction. The girls all tried their best to fight off the large swarm, and recollect. Through a shared sense, there was a need to get back to you, the younger version of themselves. The need to protect each other and stay together remained strong, however, the monsters proved too strong as their numbers increased. They found it easier to carry you away into singular, isolated chambers. The echoes of their screams, sounding so much like your own voice, become distant and unheard.

You backed yourself against the cold stone wall and slid down until the tile flooring meets your rear. All seemed hopeless at this point. The terrifying sounds of demonic growls and piercing angelic screeches merge from outside the door, all frenzying as they carry out their next deed, whatever that could be. It was too frightening to think about. What is going to happen? How is Heeseung going to save you this time? Your Heeseung…the one who is always there to bring you back home…how is he going to possibly find you? You don’t even know where you are.

‘Heeseung…I’m scared.’

You wonder if the others felt just as scared and hopeless.

The fear of being lonesome started to eat you alive, it was far worse than when Heeseung carried out one of his punishments, and locked you away for breaking his rules. You hated it more than ever, being secured away in darkness and suffering from desolation. Looking back at it, his method seemed tamed compared to how you were currently being treated.

You also knew, despite succumbing to the harsh effects of being tied to a bed frame, or locked inside a closet, at least the comfort of knowing he was going to be around…that he was always going to come back to get you, whether it was hours or a day later, was something you had lost appreciation for in the past, but yearned for it more than ever. He was always there to make sure you were safe, despite carrying out an act that clearly violated your human rights…it was his way of loving you…his manner of understanding it.

‘I wouldn’t have to do this shit if you’d listen and just do what I tell you. It’s all for a good reason…”

His words from past recollections continue to play in your head.

‘To keep you safe…and to keep you as MINE. Get it through that dumb, pretty little head of yours already. No matter how many times you fight me on this, you’re going to lose.’

You used to scoff at his justification, growing irritated at his own resolve. You always figured he was overreacting.

All those times when you were caught speaking to someone from class outside at the parking lot, didn’t matter if they were boy or girl, he’d always became so possessively evil, and jealous. His handsome smirk goes from dashing to sinister as he lets out the wolf from its cage: Ethan.

But no matter how emotionally tormenting…or mentally abusive he could be…one thing would always remain true, and that was his unyielding love for you…just you.

The door knob twists violently as the door panel rambles, snapping you out of mid thought. You stood up and cornered yourself, completely frightened by what was on the other side. Finally breaking open, it swings wide inward. You swore your eyes were going to fall through the sockets. It couldn’t be… “H-Heeseung?”

Tears balled up and your heart pauses in mid-pulse. He steps closer in towards the light and there you saw, it was Heeseung…but he seemed different. His attire was similar, but his hair…it carried a particularly familiar shade of purple, just like—

“Hmph…” he smirks, daring a bold look as he scans you up and down. “So this is what you looked like when you were eighteen.”

The way his words growled upon stating your tender age sent a shiver up your spine, a familiar sense that you were accustomed to. “Damn, so this is what you were like at eighteen… you were just born perfect, weren’t you?” A snarling wink flashes you.

He reaches and grabs your wrist. “Gotta hurry princess.”

Leading the way and keeping you close behind, he rubs his fingers and gently massages your skin in his hold. His cologne was so different from the Heeseung you knew. It was a musky scent of blue agave and sandalwood.

Luring you around every corner, running past a hall filled with portraits, you finally configured where the entities had been keeping you, it was an old church.

“W-what about the others…the other—“

He calmly interjects as you stuttered, trying to find a way to describe the collection of your alternate self, including the one who you suspected belonged to him.

“We should be seeing them soon.” He spoke as he remained attentive to the surroundings. You were so taken aback by his resemblance that you were ignorant of the weapon he held…a machete?

“H-how did you find us?” You questioned. He tightens his grasp as he leads you down a spiraling staircase, completely made of stone. “Met the others—something about getting all of the you’s and I’s out, and back to our respective universes. There was also something about a demon who wanted to piss off God, and the Devil, blah, blah, blah.”

He spoke carelessly and left out all of the vague details as he remained focused in getting you to safety. Just as you both reached the main cathedral, you witness from across the wide room, all the other variants of yourself were being guided by Heeseung, a few of them. The one right across had ash-blonde hair and….a dark haired one trailing behind…

The y/n with the dark forest green hair stood out as they centered her, providing three-sixty coverage of security. Once they saw you and the Purpled haired Heeseung leading you, they led the other you to rejoin and come to center, surrounding you both in a combative formation.

Also rejoining the group was the one who had the dark purple locks that matched the Heeseung who rescued you; behind her was the alternate version of yourself that carried the red-wine lips. The girls were guided by a version of Heeseung, whose eyes glowed blue and his hair was dark as the ocean.

In the opposite direction, from the corner of your eye you catch on to the fair alternate you, and in front, was him…there he was…Heeseung…your Heeseung, and Ethan.

You could see both entities behind those dangerous eyes. Seeing you safe, along with all the other girls restored life to his gaze as he smiled and felt the weight lifted off his shoulders. ‘There you are…there’s my pretty baby.’

Without stopping, they continued to urge you all to run as they herd each of you to stay centered in their squad position, forming an arrow shape around you and the girls.

Aside from the machete, the other Heeseung’s all bore their own weapons, and from the looks of it, they were most likely found on display in the upper dungeons, which you concluded is where you and the others were being kept prior to being saved.

Your Heeseung gripped on two long swords, while the twins had an ax and a long, steel club, similar to a bat. The other Heeseung with the azure hair skillfully handled a rifle, and had a pistol holstered to his thigh.

The moment of uniting didn’t last pleasantly as the stone tile beneath your feet shook, and the light fixtures rattled above. Something was coming, and it carried enough anger to swell up his size.

Each booming placement of its foot stomping the ground quaked the earth. Just seconds after stabilizing your ground, the grand entrance starts to crack. The arch lining and pillars split apart as an overly muscular frame, with humanoid expressions, enters. He ducked his head in by tucking the chin while the ceiling began to crumble above. When he revealed himself fully, you and the other girls gasped at the horrid sight of the monster before you.

His face was split into three, with six pairs of horns that adorned each head, eluding terrible and frightening expressions. His body was similar to that of a man, with exaggerated muscles that looked to produce enough strength that of an entire army. A long offensive tongue spills out of his evil grin as jagged and serrated teeth flash from the joker wide grin. His eyes resembled that of a goat or sheep, but larger. With both hands containing claws that reached measurement by the foot, you winced at the thought of being grabbed by them. The palms contained numerous spurred teeth that formed hooks, similar to the mouth of a parasite, such as a leech. In fact, his entire body was covered with them, slowly fading as they reached the three facial expressions. There were lacerations that appeared on his chest, opening and closing sporadically. They blinked repeatedly with horrendous teeth and eyes peeking out from beneath the tissue and skin. What on earth was this creature?

Standing in his full glory, he speaks with a diabolical tone. “Leave the women behind, and I shall spare your lives, and bless you with power and immortality. You will become the generals of my league.”

The boys all stood in line, keeping you and the others behind, guarding with their own lives at stake, willing and ready to take on anything. Rather than seeing any bit of you harmed, they all remained solid as they would rather die or be tortured than to see a single scratch on anyone of your bodies. The creature takes their gesture with jests, chuckling before he adds on to his demand.

“You are not the one that I care to gut and split open, yet if you insist, it will be my utmost pleasure to rip all of you apart in front of your precious darlings, and then feast on your corpse afterwards.”

You held on to the girl with the purple locks. Her matured instincts kick in, knocking away the original demeanor she carried before. The troubled and quiet woman feels the need to cradle you, a younger version of herself, and presses you against her chest while she covers your eyes. Peeking out from the corner of her embrace, you saw the purple haired Heeseung peer a faint side eye, noting the comfort she was providing, and the fear that stayed by it. His eyes met with hers, eluding a look of reassurance, as if he were telling her that he wasn’t going to let anything happen. Not him, or his alternate figures.

Heethan also takes in the image of your sheltering. His stern and yet relieved facial expression showed the two sides of his being, Heeseung, and Ethan. He emits a quick nod the moment you make eye contact. ‘Not today…not ever. Nothing is touching a single inch of you, pretty baby.’

The remaining alternate versions of yourself come and join in, grouping you in the center as you all remain behind the boys. The eldest stood right in between, establishing an embrace to shield you and the others as her back was facing the row of Heeseung’s. All five of them stood, readily armed as the creature's patience ran thin. Taking a step forward, the ground cracks, stones protrude inward and wouldn’t hold much longer, nearly collapsing.

The boys step back, urging all of you to back away with caution. You all suddenly halt your movements to safety at the sight of numerous demons and angels suddenly entering from all directions in the cathedral, trapping the entire group to the center beneath the large chandelier.

“It’s useless.” The creature spoke out as his tongue splits into two. “God asked for this…the Devil wanted this.”

The eldest produces a harsh side eye at the creature's mentioning of the latter. Her dark red-wined lips quiver open faintly as she hisses toward the mentioning of his name. The audacity of this creature.

“If only they had heeded our words, and met our demands. We would not be as blood starved. You mortals…you children of the Earth, deserve torture that exceeds the worst kind of death in existence. I should have been granted eternal life in his holy kingdom. It is I, who should have been throned as one of the seven Princes of Hell. Yet both God and Lucifer denied me of what is owed to me. They should have recognized me! The demon Molech! Now…God shall bear witness to the human existence coming to its end, beginning with his only daughter, and the sisters that share her form and soul. Let the heart of the Devil fall into despair upon realizing that his only love would be violated with her innards split, and torn from bone.”

Molech crouches into position, nearly ready to pounce through the boys, and straight to you and the girls. You all could see it in his eyes, the glaring reflection of you and the girls as his primary target. “May all of you scream as I devour you alive, and shit out your guts onto the stones of this very church. I will splatter your organs for all to witness what is coming.”

He lunges forward. It was the last known image that replayed in your head spontaneously as you cringed onto the girls.

The movement happened so fast, and the entire group of you screamed as the boys grit their teeth, yet silence…fills the air. Not a single sound of bone cracking skin tearing, and blood curdling screams sounded off after Molech made his offensive move.

You’re not sure what happened. You were bracing for impact and for the unthinkable to occur, yet moments passed and you realized that everyone stood, remaining whole and without injury. Still warmed by the embrace of the girls, you slowly open your eyes.

From what you could deduce, the figure had pummeled down from above, piercing through the ceiling of the church strategically so as to not fully crumble its structure. With a hand buried deep into Molech’s back, it pierces through the monstrous flesh as the thousands of small teeth that covered his hideous body attempts to cut through the sleeve of his black coat. You admired his beautiful form as large black-feathered wings extend magnificently from his back. He resembled paintings that depicted Heaven’s arch-angels.

Appearing as a Victorian prince, he slowly rises from his crouching stance. Dressed in dark, vintage-goth attire, he stands gloriously, releasing his stabbing hold of the demon beneath the soles of his boots. The thatch of black hair matched that of his feathers, so dark that it contained a blood red hue under the dim glare. As his face comes to light, your breath escapes so suddenly—you swore your heart skipped a beat…it was Heeseung. Another alternate variation of your beloved.

“Helel…” the elder y/n breathes out through her dark stained lips while gazing at her husband. A look of relief accompanies her whispering softness as he shifts a quick look over, feeling much relieved himself after seeing her unharmed.

With a wild smirk, he speaks. His voice was deep and dark, yet soft as he adoringly addressed her. “My queen.”

His eyes matches his tone as they soften; the murderous glare hushes down to a look of tranquility. “Love of my eternal life…I’ve come to bring you back home with me…where you belong.”

The beauty of love and passion between the two is cut short as Molech suddenly strikes, yet misses as Heeseung, or Helel, springs off to the side, levitating from a distance. He was so fast. His speed was inhuman as you and the others watched the demon making many failed attempts to catch him. “You WILL take her back, as you will join her at death by my hand! YOU—are nothing but a failed angel, and a false prince!”

Mech spoke out his poisonous words, yet seeing the calmed expression on the Prince's face irked him as Helel remained unbothered, so long as his darling was safe.

The very last bit of his words barely spit out as Helel dives in, like a flash of light. With his much smaller frame, he is enumerated strength that surpasses Molechs as he grips the demon by another piercing hold, this time, it was through the center of his chest. The creature’s internal organs flare up, lighting as if they were being filled with lava. His skin became transparent as you all viewed the spewing of fluids secreting from the burns. He screams in pain as the sores on his body leak liquified tissue, melting the outer layer of skin. “I think your visit here is over-welcomed, Molech.”

Helel’s voice turns dark, with a clenched jaw, he continues to burn the demon from the inside out. “Don’t worry, I’ll be seeing you very shortly, and I’ll deal with you then. Be ready…” he narrows his eyes and brings the center face of the demon closer, his lips nearly touching the demon's chin. Smirking, Helel slides the tip of his nose upwards, forcing the demon to look him directly in the eye, all the while he whispers…

“I am going to split you open with my claws—piss on your organs, feed you to those miserable shits at the River Styx, watch as they shit you out, and scatter your remains across the depths of MY Hell. You’ll be nothing but fertilizer for my wife’s pretty little poppy garden, and she will smile every waking moment upon watching them grow from your own demise.”

With the last of Molech’s breath, he extends his middle claw, flicking off his own former master as he shamelessly words out “fuck you.”

Helel only grins in amusement, further aggravating the demon. Whispering, Heeeseung—or Helel, responds back one final time before finishing off the demon. “Nah…nobody fucks with the Devil—except her.” He glances over to his one and only, his own y/n. “She fucks me all the time, sometimes with tears staining her face and her bottom lip clenched between her teeth. She loves fucking with the Devil…” shifting another look over, he directs his tone in bold, over to his wife. “Ain’t that right baby?”

His wife settles a submissive display of affection and obedience as she quietly nods. “Yeah…you fucking love me. And I fucking love the Hell outta you.” His eyes widen entirely too ecstatically as his pupils shrink. Of all the moments you witnessed Heeseung’s most terrifying expressions, nothing surpassed the one his devilish alternate. It was the most terrifying thing you’ve seen, even more so than the dying demon at his hand.

He releases an antagonizing chuckle as you felt a slight shake within your chest, all due to the way he spoke of his love. He was so twisted, possessive, and dementing, but the love and admiration he showered her was above all sorts of love. It was unreal.

“And you know what else Molech? She will be the one to rule over the demons that will fuck your soul for all eternity. THAT…is what it means to obey your fucking queen.” At that, you all bear witness as Helel finishes Molech off.

But things were far from over, the remaining demons and angels who retaliated against their respective masters remained loyal to their desires, despite Molech being gone, and said former master currently present. Despite witnessing Helel kill off their only leadership, they were stubborn enough to follow through, until death stopped them.

“What’s next?” One of the Heeseung twins spoke, gripping his weapon.

“Take the girls and run. Keep going until you reach the end of the bridge.” Helel calmly instructs, eyeballing the swarm that was closing in. “And you?” One of the other Heeseung’s spoke, inquiring Helel’s role during the escape.

“Heh.” With a smirk and the narrowing of his dark eyes, he extends his wings out as he flares off a hand, claws extending and growing in an offensive length before your very own eyes. “It’s time for me to tuck the kids in, and say goodnight.” Leaving no room for response, his super speed causes a mirage of his movements as he levitates up, and like a sparrow, dives down as he takes out numerous demons and angels at once. In doing so, he creates an open path for everyone to escape.

“Let’s go!” Your Heeseung yells out as he grabs on to the dark forest haired y/n, and quickly leads the way. With all the other Heeseung’s following suit, they latch on to each and every single one of you. The purple haired y/n holds onto your hand as she is being led by the blue haired Heeseung.

“Watch out!” The fair one screams, watching as a group of demons head directly towards your direction.

In an instant, they abruptly pause as they reach within one arm's distance. A soothing tune echoes in the air; a semi high pitch voice that reminded you of bells, it sings and creates a euphoric atmosphere. The demons struggle as they try to resist, staggering a myriad of movements before succumbing to the soft sound of mystical and angelic voice.

“Wha-what is that?” The fairer y/n speaks out, when suddenly the blue haired Heeseung tells the boys, “cover your ears and eyes, now!”

You watched as the males covered followed his instruction, patiently waiting for the signal to free their hearing and sight. The one that gave warning stood and provided cover. He didn’t seem so concerned with himself, or so it would appear as he placed no effort in obstructing his vision or hearing. The demons couldn’t resist the soft tone of the woman’s voice, and started to conduct the demands as she spelled out their death sentence.

“Look into my eyes…and hear my voice. Tell me that you love me…” the demons roar in agony as the look of pained lust takes over. “Take out your heart. Rip it from your chests, and present it as a token of your love for me…do it…for meeee.”

Her voice drifts. It was so alluring and other-worldly.

You turned around and bore witness as to who was responsible for the spell-binding act. It was the variant of yourself, the one with the forest green hair. You gasped in magnificence as you saw the transformation of her features darken, becoming seductively bold and eye-catching. Her eyes grew dark, yet glowed. The winged tip lining of her beautiful peepers became more fierce, and her lips grew darker in shade, resembling the color of a Plum. The changed produced a smoldering expression that reeked of every man’s lust and desire. She spoke out terrible things, and yet, each demon did as she bids, meeting a demise by their own hand.

Her counterpart smirks, gazing over to his darling as her expression slowly goes back to its original state. “Siren.” He winked over as he breathed out the name of her lineage.

With a faint smile of her own, she returns the look by flaring a cool attitude out of jest. “Adam.”

Everyone continues on the path as you all make way onto the high bridge, beginning the cross. Up ahead, a swarm of angels swing down, resting near the end of the bridge and form a metallic barricade. They mutate their limbs into active mechanical saws with rotating blades, and unbeknownst to the lot of you, this was a familiar sight for one particular y/n.

“Get behind me.” She tells everyone, and you watch as the Devil’s wife shows you her immortality, and extends her own beautiful wings. “Y-y/n! You have wings!” You and the girls exclaimed, pleasantly surprised by the remarkable sight of the pearlescent white feathers, a stark contrast from her husbands. Barely hidden in the undercarriage of one wing, a small spot resting closest to her body, were black feathers. A part of him.

Extending her angelic feathers, she takes flight just like her husband, and gains unbelievable height before swooping down, taking out the entire offensive line of the angels. Split cleanly in half, they lay restlessly as their limbs twitch and mouths screeched out their dying pains.

The group continues to run, with every alternate variation of you and Heeseung joining hands and intermingling.

A sudden jolt yanks you back, causing you to yelp out in pain. It pulls you back, tearing you from the others.

“Shit!” Heethan breathes out in ultimate fear as a lonesome demon begins to crawl over you. Its tongue glides over your skin, preparing to digest your face when in a blink of an eye, the demon is suspended in the air, and thrown off the bridge. Helel swoops to your side, extending a hand; you take it, joining palms. Feeling your grip, he lifts away and carries you off in flight to rejoin the others.

“Let’s go.” The eldest y/n urges once they witness you safe, much to Heeseung's delight. He swore he felt his heart explode for a second, but redemption came at its finest upon seeing you safe, once again. Guess he has the Devil to thank for that.

Your body reaches unbelievable height as Helel holds you by the waist, and your arms wrapped around his neck. You made the mistake of looking down and felt the hopeless sensation of dangling high above, seeing the group as microscopic figures as they make their way to the end of the bridge. Your grip tightens and by doing so, you pull yourself closer to the former archangel.

“Hmph…” he smirks against your cheek, inhaling your sweet scent as you slowly turn to face him. Staring at him with a wide and an innocent gaze, he reaches up and moves a piece of hair, tucking it behind your ear. “Pretty little thing, you have nothing to fear…”

He leans in closer, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he pulls you even closer. His nose meets with yours, and his lips brush against your skin. He looks so much like Heeseung—your Heeseung. Like him, there was a mixture of kindness and malice, producing love and contentment. Whispering against your lips he finishes…

“Whether it be you, or the others like her, I’ll never let any part of my y/n to fall.”

His wings cave in, cradling you to his chest. He places a soft and gentle kiss on your lips, progressing into one that reaches certain depths from inside your mouth. His tongue feeds through and unlike his cold skin, it was warm. You openly invited him to explore further as you couldn’t resist this version of your beloved. He was so powerful, and out of this world, you just had to gain a taste, and prayed that your own Heeseung would never find out what was happening in the sky above.

His hand reaches the back of your neck, pulling you in as he deepens the kiss. He pulls slightly back, much to your dismay, and takes in the sight of your expression. It was full of lust and desire; you stared back with heavy lids and a soft pant escaping. He smirks before licking your bottom lip, and places a smaller peck on your nose. “Good girl.” He whispers, before tightening his embrace, and taking flight— merging you with the others.

Reaching ground, he gently places you down and watches as you run over to your fiance, who embraced you with every ounce of his own life. “Fuck, I was scared I lost you for a second. Are you okay baby?” His voice was hoarse as he ran out of breath from merely speaking. The choke of his emotions got the better of him as he sensationally savored the feeling of your bodies uniting.

He looks at you with relieved eyes. You tearfully nod and embraced him. The others did the same as they rejoined with their respective partners.

Slowly walking over to Helel, the eldest y/n comes within reach. She raises a hand and delicately moves pieces of his hair away from brow and eye. He smirks down at her, and takes her long strands in palm, rubbing them between his claws. Taking in every bit of her presence, he nearly loses himself at the face that took his breath away. Fuck, she was so breathtaking to him.

“Thank you…for saving me and the others.” She whispers out, widening her stare as she rests her hands on his chest. He wraps his arms around her waist.

“I don’t know what I would ever do if I didn’t have you.” He admits, and for the first time ever, she witnesses a side of the devil she never thought she’d see. His look was that of slight guilt, relief, and sadness. He looked down at the ground for a moment, realizing that had he been late, he would have lost the only thing that mattered to him. Meeting her gaze, he leans in with a calmed look in his eye.

In this very moment, y/n felt herself falling for her husband like never before. After bearing Helan, living in Hell, and sustaining his harsh treatments, she finally understood him as a man and husband. Oh, how the tables have turned in his favor.

“My son needs his mother…and I need my queen.” He whispers, before granting a small and tender kiss. Taking her hand, he raises it to chin level, tilting his face as his eyes remain glued to her face. Lavishing her hand, he rolls tongue and cheek across the smoothness of her skin, delicately placing a trail of kisses down to her wrist. Tears begin to form in her eyes. It’s true what they say in Heaven and Hell, the Devil truly loved his wife. His y/n.

A rumbling sound emerges from afar and you all witness as many more demons and angels emerge from inside the cathedral. They run over, crossing the bridge as they head in the groups direction. With the exception of Helel and his y/n, who had the gift of flight, everyone was at a disadvantage of being forced to run on foot, but with speed that was nothing compared to the inhuman entities making their way over.

“We gotta hide or something. They’ll catch us.” The purple haired y/n exclaims while her own Heeseung holds onto her, cooing her as he kisses her forehead.

“No need.” Helel calmly projects. Everyone looked in his direction with a relieved sigh, does he have a plan? “What will you do?” His own bride inquires flirtatiously as she gets a sense of a trick up her husband's sleeve. He smirks as he tells her. “What we do best.” He snaps his finger and instantly, six other figures appear from the sky, shattering the atmosphere as their sudden appearance creates a series of Sonic Booms. One right after another, they dive bombed the bridge, wiping out the army of demons and angels in seconds. With dark feathered wings, and inhuman strength, their lack in numbers could not fool anyone. The angels were no match even when conducting aerial movements. Each dark prince maneuvered the sky and shattered any who tried to escape. It was as if you were watching jets chasing after one another.

They swoon closer, joining the group at the end of the bridge. “The kids are misbehaving I see.” One of them spoke, a young man who had dark hair with wispy silver highlights. His foot reaches the ground as he collapses his wings, leaving them to remain perched in an arch at rest. He was adorned with gold and jewels that had to be worth more than what the world could offer. Joining him was one of the others, who had blonde hair slicked back, and bright blue eyes. A lip ring decorated his bottom lip, and he shared the same aura as the other.

“These little brats…what’s their problem this time? Are they pissed off at us or what?” Seemingly fed up with the offensive entities, he sighs out as the one adorned with jewels responds.

“Eh…Same shit, different day. Don’t know about the angels, but our guys are in need of a spanking…probably need to be grounded.”

The blonde haired angel-figure shoots a glance over to the forest haired y/n. “Huh…first time I’ve ever seen a Siren.”

The Heeseung who held on to her waist tucks her into his chest; he glares over to the blonde male. “Fuck off.” Was all he calmly stated before widening his eyes psychotically.

The blonde male smirks, appearing to do no harm. “Relax. I’m not going to take away your little mermaid.” He switched his gaze back to her. “You and I come from the same waters, Daughter of the Seven Seas. It would appear that your generation is much more tamed than that of your early mothers.” He smirks as he looks back at the one holding her. “An Adam…great distant son of an ancient God. Despite the identical face you display to that of my elder brother, you and I are more alike than anything else.”

Heedam softens his gaze to that of an annoyed glare. “I don’t really care, blondie.”

Jake smirks out a small laugh. “No, I guess you don’t. But it’s all good…” flickering his snake like tongue, he gently coos. “Just tell your sisters, should you ever see them, to be wary of the snake. I tend to look for them from time to time.”

The dark green haired y/n projects a perturbed brow. “You mean…the other sirens? What would you do if you ever found them?”

He winks. “I’d eat them—metaphorically speaking, of course.” He gives off a last smirk before turning his back to the couple. “Snakes need to eat too, you know?”

The two males take flight to rejoin their brothers in air, while Helel remains with you all. After some moments went by, you and the girls inquired on how the boys managed to find you.

“This guy.” One of the twins smirked as he thumb pointed over to Helel. “Got us together after he found out what was happening, and helped us get here before taking off to get his brothers.”

“How did you find out?” The eldest raised a brow as she peeked up to view her husband's face. He smirks as his chin touches her nose. “After the raid and your kidnapping, that little fuck-Molech left no leads. So I had to reach out to an old friend…”

“Who?” One of the y/n’s spoke curiously. The eldest y/n already knew…

“Him?” She spoke in a whisper. He slightly nods in return. You all pieced together whom they were referring to as the subtle hint gave off the showering expression of respect and peace on the Devil’s face.

God.

Not much was divided afterwards. In fact, after Helel explained how he forcefully opened the space and time continuums in each galactic dimension to retrieve the alternate versions of his own soul, and unite them with the plan to bring you all back, things went silent right after.

Reopening those entrances once more, Helel guided each pairing back to their own worlds, and everything was back to normal, other than the major publicity that stirred from the event. Mentions of angels and demons raising the sky, and an apocalyptic end, was all the media could speak of.

………

A few weeks have passed. Schools were shut down for a while due to the incident, and everyone was left to continue their education via online, which Heeseung absolutely loved. Having you in his dorm twenty-four-seven was something that he could get used to…maybe already has.

You lay in bed partially dressed. It was nice to not have to worry about figuring what to wear. Since assignments were assigned and completed on your own schedule, you opted to be lazy as Heeseung went down the store to grab your favorite snacks. All for being such a good girl, and staying by his side.

With only a crop top and a pair of panties on, you embraced the warmth of summer air hitting your skin. Besides, your man loved seeing you nearly nude more than anything else.

The door opens, and you see him walk in. In his traditional and fashionable manner, his hat covers his eyes and the upper bridge of his nose, which complimented the street style he wore. A long shirt with the sleeves partially rolled and straight jeans. So casual yet so appealing, or perhaps it was just him and how he could pull it off so well.

“That was quick.” You quirked as you sit up over the edge of the bedding and sipped on your water bottle.

“I don’t like being away from you for too long.” He spoke out with a deep tone. His bedroom voice.

He didn’t waste any time. He held onto your waist and pulls you up. Catching you by surprise, he dipped down to loop his hands around your thighs, before fully extending you up in the air. Your thighs straddle him as you stabilize yourself, he was so strong. Lifting you like a feather, he buries his face into your neck as your head rests on top of his hat. “Heeseung…”

“Mmhmm…” he mumbles with his mouth filled with your tender skin. He didn’t say much more after, instead, he hooks your panties and pushes them to the side. Up and over your derrière, his forearm rested against the surface of your rear cheeks while he lined himself to your center. It’s to be expected, you both didn’t have sex this morning due to the zoom conference for one of your classes. So of course, now that all of that was done, he could finally have his moment with you.

He slides right in, and it was a familiar feeling that seemed all too new. He stuffs you. Fills you. Pumps into you. It was an incredible feeling that reminded you just how much you loved to get fucked by this man.

His lips remained latched on to your neck. “Fuck.” He whispers. “Mmmph! Heeseung!” You gasped as he picks up the pace and bounces you atop his throbbing cock, holding your under-thighs as leverage whenever he lifted and stabilized your momentum.

He kept going on and on. Your mind was blown away as always; you didn’t even feel present in his room. Everything just took you away as you felt your gut being filled by that hard muscle. Separating your walls and pushing in, he thrusts in a motion that was passionately rough and sensually brutal. It was almost like dancing—it had rhythm and harmony as you both shared juices of love and lust.

You screamed out as you come undone. Splattering your fluids everywhere, he keeps his thrusts going as he goes in harder, faster, and deeper. Right as you reach your second orgasm, he joins in and you both cum in unison.

He gently places you back down on the bed, lovingly. Kissing your entire body, he coolly shushes you after noting your gasping pants for air, and the beads of sweat that coated your skin. “Shhh-sh-sh-sh. Breathe baby, that’s it…thaaaaaats it.”

Once you finally got your breathing stabilized, he kisses your forehead and whispers “good girl.”

Something smacks your senses as you immediately took note of the off-putting manner in the way he whispered his tone. Of course he’s said it many times before but this…this was all too familiar in an unfamiliar way. It was…it was…

He stands upright, you hear the unfolding flaps of the black feathered wings extending past the street attire he donned.

“Oh my God…”

He smirks. “Close…but not quite sweetheart.” With a devilish grin, he leans down and places a sudden peck on your lips, causing you to enhance your already shocked expression. “The Devil is here.”

He kisses you once more before turning away. A slit in the gravitational force of the air appears, and walking in was Heeseung dressed in formal black, Victorian wear. The one who donned his wings, Helel, spoke first.

“Had fun?”

Heeseung—your Heeseung, spoke back in jest. A certain level of verbal jousting that took place between the two as they remained swapped in their attire. “Hope you enjoy my work.” Your Heeseung spoke, flashing his Ethan persona as he smirks towards his devil counterpart.

“I’ll leave you my review. If I’m not satisfied, I will be returning.” He dashed a wink over to you, as your Heeseung responds back. “No returns.”

Helel crosses his arms, and grins. “I won’t be asking for a return, more like a freebie.”

Heeseung smirks back as he too, crosses his arms. Both men square off, chest to chest at a one arms distance. “Against my policy. It’s buy one, and get one free. And gimme back my hat.” He snags the cap off from Helel’s head, the latter merely remained undeterred and blinked as he leans his head slightly back, watching as his own counterpart places the hat on his own head.

“Hmph…what atrocity.” Noting his Victorian cloth tainted by the modern piece that your Heeseung displayed, Helel lightly snarled in disgust. “If anyone is going to square off with the Devil…I guess it would be my own damn self, even if you are worlds apart. Too bad I always win.”

He remarks amusingly before exiting, but not without waving back to you as he peeked over the edge of his wing. “See you later, y/n. Try not to spill.” He denotes as he points at the seeping fluid spilling out in between your legs. Heeseung’s brow irked at the symbolic jab.

“Helel…” he calls out right as the devil began to step into the opening.

Raising a brow, Helel looks over to his alternate face. “Say hi to the wife and kids for me.”

Helel’s eyes widen just slightly, expressing a hint of confusion. “Kids?”

Heeseung smirks. “Yeah…kids. A lot of them. Figured your boy could use some siblings.”

Both men stand wide-eyed, smiling sinisterly. They looked as if they were going to kill each other. “Huh…it would be you to show up the devil. I’ll be sure to return the favor.” He steps forward, and with that, the devil takes his leave.

Perm Taglist:

@enheene , aiden2001 , @heeseung-min , @lathan1510 , @rayofsunshineeee @hoyeonheeseung , @rayofsunshineeee , @yohanabanana , @sunoosrightbuttcheek , @jaeneohee , @icydawon , @silcry , @iamliacamila , @nikstrange , @enheene ; @nuriicata , @en-happiness @diorsyun @lisaaannna

130 notes · View notes

bogleech · 5 months

Note

Hey Bogleech! Got a question for you; when you are creating creatures - particularly those that are "useless" like the Garbage class in Mortasheen (who I hope are around in the game because I love them btw!), what's your design philosophy for such creatures?

Are they designed to be able to 'function' and propagate or are many of them meant as one-offs

If I like a design at all I basically can't bear to leave it "limited" in any way, so everything is either a whole species or biologically immortal or otherwise has the potential to last forever in some way! The original idea of the "defect monsters" in Mortasheen was random accidental creations that spin off from creating other monsters, but that didn't explain how they could have "species" that kept reappearing, and back then it was kind of just left unexplained the way a lot of things in Pokemon are. I've actually drawn all-new art for a bunch of them that's debuting in the book, and they're also being renamed to "Biogarbage" for it, one of which is a remake of one of the very oldest designs I had at one point retired and forgotten about:

Its original concept was just something incapable of eating or moving or doing anything at all. Now I have it that the Bleurtch still can't really move or do much, but it can survive if it has bacteria-rich water to soak up, and ends up clogging sewer lines as it multiplies. And if it's irritated enough, it can defend itself by spewing all its rancid sticky body fluids everywhere, but then it just dies. As to how these and other Biogarbage can keep arising brand new from monster creation and still repeat their species, bringing monsters to life in Mortasheen official involves a living sludge with a collective genetic memory. When you feed enough biomass into it with a lot of data and an energy supply it can build the exact monster you wanted, but it will do whatever it feels like with leftover scraps. Some monsters might think of these as kind of their "siblings" and care about them, but it depends on the monster! The design philosophy is just to make them come across as miserable just to exist, but in a kind of "funny" way? Not necessarily just suffering but fairly wretched and unpleasant.

#mortasheen

152 notes · View notes

torterracotta · 10 months

Text

When I heard Gerry Duggan get asked on Cerebro, white boy to white boy, about the unfortunate optics of announcing and then immediately murdering the least white team of X-Men in years, I knew we'd be in for some shit. Man, did he deliver - after some evasive waffling about how ORCHIS is meant to be fascist, and how the story's point is to put the collective back of mutantkind even more against the wall than it was any of the last six times something like this has happened.

And, honestly? That's fair! This year's Hellfire Gala is ultimately the first part of a larger story, and history shows it's not going to last forever — hell, does anyone remember what the status quo was immediately before HoXPoX? At least this time most of the characters have implicitly just been sucked into Mother Righteous's magical Poké Ball, rather than outright killed; if anything, that's an improvement. I was fully content to just think "hey, not for me," and get back to ignoring everything beyond Immortal and Sabertooth, secure in the knowledge that certain topics are bound to be handled poorly when almost everyone in the room is white, when Duggan said three words that stopped me in my tracks:

"Keep the faith."

See, that struck me, because for a lot of us, this entire era of comics has been about nothing but faith. I've been reading X-Men, and engaging with fans since I was eight, and I've never seen the kind of collective buy-in from other marginalized readers that I have with Krakoa. X-Twitter (or, I suppose, X-X) has been Blacker, queerer, more disabled, less homogeneous than the fandom has ever been, all of us buying in to the implicit promise that this time things would be different. Sure, the line was headed by a presumably straight white guy, but there were other voices in the room for a change, and it really felt like they were going to be listened to. We thought we'd moved past clunky metaphor, past queerbaitimg and awkward racial gaffes. Storm and Kwannon were getting to do stuff, Arakko was full of amazing characters of color, Cyclops and Wolverine were probably fucking, we were hooked, and we turned out.

It's hard to overemphasize just how wild this was to see in real time. X-Men has always been allegory, sure, but it's traditionally allegory by and for the majority. For years, the readers who might really feel that resonance, those of us who have been hated and feared for the unforgivable crime of being who we are, we were afterthoughts, tolerated at best. We got scraps, "representation" from creators who seemed to be offended by the implication that we would ever want something other than being fetishized tokens. We were, as Hickman so succinctly put it, told that we were less when we knew we were more. And then, out of nowhere, Krakoa made us inescapable.

The two biggest X-Men podcasts, X-Plain the X-Men and Cerebro, are hosted by queer people. X of Words has been rocking the Black, queer experience like no one's business, Mutant Watch has been a joy to listen to and to be on. Not just podcasts, either, in everything from criticism to fanart to cosplay, voices have been elevated that were previously silent. I mean, hell, I've gotten paid to talk about comics, that shit never would have happened four years ago.

All of that was based on faith.

Faith that we were being celebrated, for once, instead of just used. Faith that for whatever growing pains there might be, things were going to be better.

And let's not fuck around here, there were growing pains. In the first year alone we dealt with everything from blatant whitewashing, to queerbaiting — any Sunspot fan can go into detail there, assuming you can get one of us to stop crying for long enough. While that was going on, we watched Bryan Edward Hill (the only non-white writer in that initial wave) put out a book that was, let's face it, at worst aggressively mid, only to be excoriated by certain portions of the fandom, and dropped by the office, while significantly worse books managed to hold fast — er, hold on. Not to say that Fallen Angels was without sin, mind you, the book was packed with enough orientalism to make Chris Claremont blush. But, at the same time, Wolverine's first year ended with him doing what he does best: trying so hard to be Japanese that I had to check to make sure he wasn't Marvel's editor in chief.

Through all of that, we kept the faith.

Things didn't really get much better, of course. Arakko was a fascinating concept, and felt like it damn near doubled Marvel's characters of color. And yeah, the ending of X-Factor was one of the most poorly handled racist messes I've seen this side of… well, any given day on Twitter. Sure, the whitewashing has never stopped, to the point where everything from X-Corp to this week's Hellfire Gala has had to be hastily edited between previews and release. Maybe we keep dealing with stuff like butchered AAVE, even more queerbaiting, Kate Pryde's funeral, the genocide of almost all of those Arraki characters, and whatever the hell was going on with Lost in Way of X. Maybe there's a very real argument to be made that there's something insidious about three straight years of voting to determine if characters like Monet (who, by the by, has been retooled from "basically Superman" to "Black woman with anger powers") deserve the honor of being written by a white man who's stayed writing with his foot in his mouth. I mean, hey! All my white friends in the scene say he's nice, just like Williams, or Howard, or any number of other crusty crackers who are still proud of tripping over the bar Claremont left on the floor in the 80's!

And dammit, we kept the faith!

Even before the issue dropped, the Fall of X has had a lot of us wary. After all, all of the promotion leading up to it has been white guys saying the minority allegory has had it too good for too long, which, whatever, press copy. We all know they've gotta sell books — they, in this case, being the almost exclusively white, almost exclusively male creative teams attached to all of the books in the line. Sure, as Duggan said, the 616 has a fascism problem, but it’s hard not to see this as a deliberate step back from the almost double digit number of non-white creators these past few years — almost as if Marvel has realized they can make space for a fourth ongoing by their favorite white boy if they just throw out a Voices special every couple of months as a containment zone for the darkies. And, hey, considering how good ol’ C.B. got his foot in the door, I can’t even fake surprise. At this point, it’s a minor miracle any time a person of color is tapped for anything that’s expected to last beyond one issue.

In this issue, as a reward for keeping the faith, we got to see something astounding, something that'd bring a tear to the eye of even the most cynical reader — a team that was only half white. My god. And sure, their brutal murder in favor of a team with Kate "Hard-Arrr" Pryde and the Kingpin(????) was only a pit-stop between the resurrection of the suddenly ashy Ms. Marvel and Lourdes Chantel being killed off for the sake of a white woman's angst yet afuckinggain, but ain't that the dream that Malcolm Ten or whoever died for?

The Krakoan era, ultimately, has been the same as every other. Empty promises by white men who show us time and again that there was never any point in expecting anything better. Any meaning we've found, everything of worth, has been what we've made for ourselves.

We've spent years keeping the faith, Gerry, while you and yours have continued to let us down. What the hell do we have to show for it?

#xspoilers #Hellfire Gala 2023 #X-Men

357 notes · View notes

digitaldoeslmk · 6 months

Text

so um, that picture from the flashbacks scene?

so let's see. horse, bull, rat, turtle, eagle (?), monkey, bear, pig, rabbit, and a ram.

White Dragon Horse, Demon Bull King, Lady Earth Flow, White Turtle, Golden Peng (who is a garuda in the books), Wukong, Black Bear Demon, Bajie, Jade Rabbit, and Goat-Strenght Immortal.

there's also the layer that, besides the bear and the bird, all of them are zodiac animals.

i think this is Nuwa helping to come up with the challenges from the journey, and since we're doing the "familiar tales new adventures" thing, we're gonna do a cyclical theory where this really is a new Journey. that's why she made MK from the same stone.

since the show is rly scrapping the Buddhist enlightenment angle of JTTW, i think the Journey is repeating cus the first one maybe didn't achieve what it was meant to, on some level. i don't have enough info to theorize on what though.

#lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk theory

146 notes · View notes

dailyadventureprompts · 11 months

Text

Adventure: Dead Certian

It was all going to end like this, one day or another

Hooks:

It starts out as a simple enough job, some noble or other has acquired some potentially profitable land but learned too late that it rests within the hunting grounds of some dangerous monsters lairing in a ruin in the nearby mountains. After being hired by an agent of the noble with a sizable upfront payment and the promise of more to come, the party find themselves hiking up into the foothills towards an abandoned abbey. It's your standard monster hunt... aside from the mostly devoured bodies indicating the party are not the first ones to be sent up the mountain.... or the rambling immortal corpse chained up for what seems like decades in a secret cell in the abbey's foundations.

It's a week or so later that the visions start... only rumours at first, people having bad dreams about a hateful red sun in a black sky, horrifying shapes moving about a blasted and ashen countryside... but then one of the heroes "awakens" in the burnt out ruins of the in they went to sleep in last night and are forced to fight for their life against various monstrosities before gasping awake. These visions are unpredictable and intermittent, and as speculation mounts of what they might mean further tales come creeping in about people dying in thier sleep or even rising from their beds to go on a mindless rampage after falling under the influence of whatever it is they're seeing.

Some time later the party is approached again by the noble's agent... though this time they're dishevelled, paranoid, and have obviously been running for their life for some days. They explain that their employer is up to something wicked, they don't know what, but its got something to do with the old abbey and the visions and its only going to get worse if they're not stopped.

Setup: Consigned to the dustbin of history nearly a century ago, the soothsayer Tirman Houndstongue was known in his day for producing prophecies as cryptic as they were accurate. The "Houndstongue Harkenings" were required readings for mystics of the day, until the new writings suddenly stopped as most presumed that the diviner had simply dropped dead in one of his famously fevered writing sessions. One by one the events hinted at by Tirman's writings were divined and came to pass, and the once famous fortuneteller fell into obscurity.

The truth is far stranger than what is remembered: After years of seeminly innocuous prophecies Houndstongue started predicting the end of the world, and in fear of his widely circulated ramblings causing a panic the church censored his writings and imprisoned him in an isolated monestary that only a select few knew about. For the rest of his life Tirman rambled on about all the horrors that would befall the world during the end times.. and then kept on rambling after he died, seeminly animated by the NEED to keep pronouncing the end of days, pausing only to talk about the terrible fates that would befal his captors and how their actions were all for not. Less than a decade later an outbreak of plague struck the monestary, leaving the corpse forgotten in its cell.

Forgotten, except for a certain noble by the name of Vandermyr , who's family's rise to prominence came about as party of Tirman's prophecies. Though born generations after the oracle's apparent death, Vandermyr developed an obsession with Houndstongue's writings thinking that they didn't just apply to specific events but spoke of underlying patterns in fate. After lucking into increasingly successive business ventures, Vandermyr bent his family's resources to discovering lost scraps of Tirman lore, eventually stumbling into the truth of his abduction, and his eventual resting place, buying the estate nearby.

Sending multiple groups to seek out scraps of unpublished prophecy under the guise of monsterhunting, Vandermyr was DELIGHTED to encounter the recitating cadaver of his idol once the party reported back, going so far as to visit the monastery himself before commanding servants to drag Tirman's remains back to his manor. In long hours spent listening at the corpse's feet comes to a revelation: that the apocalyptic ravings are just cryptic metaphor, misunderstood by the narrow minded churchfolk, and that surely they would lead him, and the Vandermyr family to rise to even greater heights.

Further Adventures:

Vandermyr is an idiot and he's kickstarted the end of days, which makes the party atleast partially culpable. It might take them a while to connect the auspicious signs to clues left in the dungeon, but once they figure it out they'll need to break into Vandemyr's manor for answers. Thankfully they're not alone in this task, as despite being a mouthpiece for otherworldy forces and stone dead for well over a hundred years, Tirman's been trying to prophecy AROUND the death of the world, it'll just take the party a bit of champion level bullshit decoding to figure out how.

Unbenknownsed to anyone including him, Tirman's prophecies were delivered by an extradimensional horror with power over predestination known as the Nigh-Tyrant. From its home amid the carcasses of devoured worlds this pisonic predator would weave itself into the causality of a realm it wished to devour, influencing events to allow it to travel between realms and rampage as it pleased. The problem with fighting this entity is that its consciousness is made up in-part of all the guilt and madness wracked oracles it used in the past, meaning its ability to predict the party's actions is manifold. Whats more, it commands those lesser nightmares that have come to dwell in the aftermath of its apocalypse, and can dispatch them to the party's world through various hidden means.

You can't go around subverting fate and not expect the gods to get involved. Istusis or other fate-warping gods are a lightly choice for late-game party benefactors, and the heroes may find their journey altered at several points to steer them in the needed direction before actual intervention takes place.

If you need to further up the stakes, consider having the belayed end of days get the attention of the outergod with dominon over failed apocalypses who senses the titan's death like a vulture on the wind

Art 1

Art 2

Art 3

#villain #dungeon delve #undead #dream #prophecy #oracle #fate #disaster #high level #end without rest #end game #villain cult #villain psionic #psionics #villain noble

245 notes · View notes

m1d-45 · 1 year

Note

Okay last little idea and I'll leave you be for a bit

Xiao actually responding to the names the creator gives him. Little Friend, Pretty Bird, ect. No matter how far away you are, if you call those names, he has to stop himself from turning into a bird and flying away at that very moment. Those pet names are as much his name as any other he's kept.

-sibling anon

me when xiao

in his time with you in his adeptal form, xiao has never told you his name.

and yet, he still hears you.

if he’s in the area and the wind brings him the softest call of “you here, little friend?” he morphs in an instant, instinct taking over as he flies to your summons. he ducks through the trees, landing gracefully in your outstretched hand, meeting your wide smile with a chirp.

“there you are,” you mumble, and he ruffles his wings in an approximation of standing straighter. he is here. for you.

he’s commonly perched on your index finger, or your thumb if he’s eating from your palm. you only feed him simple almonds, yet it tastes of a delightful meal, energy coursing through his body. he’s careful not to nick your skin in his eagerness, but nobody could blame his enthusiasm if they knew what he felt.

by sitting in your hand, he is rested. by staying at your side, he is healed. he still upkeeps his duties, ever vigilant, but he’s quicker now, spurred on by something—someone—to return to. his place is at your side, and he hates keeping you waiting.

even when he has to.

xiao crossed his arms over his chest, staring off at liyue’s plains while he waited for the traveller to finish talking with… whoever. he honestly wasn’t paying attention. all he was there for was the lost adeptal artifact that the commissioner had promised he had, and then he would be on his way.

the man said something with a tilt to his tone. the traveller laughed. xiao grit his teeth.

“friend? little buddy? where are you?”

the call pulled at his soul as every other name he held, and he itched to answer.

paimon made a comment, an ooh! tossed somewhere in the middle, and xiao snapped.

“can we wrap it up? this is not a proper use of an adeptus’ time.”

the man swiftly apologized, handing over the totem, and xiao all but snatched it from his hand. a ‘farewell’ may or may not have slipped from him in time for the traveller to hear, he wasn’t sure. all he knew was that one moment he was dropping the totem off at his room at the inn, and the next he was leaping off the balcony, shifting mid-air to fly towards you.

he let out a loud cry when he spotted you, tucking in his wings to dive. you saw him and held out your hand, a motion so familiar that the actions to land were muscle memory.

he flared his wings, slowing his fall, flapping once, twice, before settling on your index finger. your thumb reached up, as it always did, and he leaned into it, repressing a coo at the feeling of it smoothing over his back.

“there you are, my pretty bird. where were you?”

a shiver rolls down his small body at your words, and he hides behind your thumb. you had many names for him—little friend, blue bird, simply blue—but pretty bird?

your pretty bird?

he’s hot in a way he can’t identify, a melting mix of emotions filling his chest. pride, admiration, adoration, even, all blurring into a messy film that covered his mind.

you turned towards your camp, keeping the hand with him perched close to you. “doesn’t matter. you’re here now, pretty bird. i missed you, you know.”

and you missed him?

xiao’s known for a while that the one on the throne wasn’t truly his god, but now he’s wondering if you were. the swell of confusing feelings was proof enough; were you anybody else, mortal or immortal, god or adepti, he’d have surely struck you down for your behavior long ago. cooing over him as if he were a mere household pet, feeding him scraps of crushed fruit, calling him such names as ‘pretty bird’- he’d have morphed back the second he was strong enough, held his blade to your throat and called you insolent and ungrateful. he’d leave you with a scar, and yet here he was, apologizing for the one he did leave in any way he could.

you carefully poured some almonds pieces in your palm, and he shifted to your thumb as you sat. were you anybody else, you would be dead. but your eyes are still open, carefully watching him, and your heart still beats blood. he can feel your pulse through his claws, sometimes, and often finds his own slowing down to match it.

you had an adeptus eating from the palm of your hand, and yet you were none the wiser. you simply propped your head in your free hand, a gentle smile on your face.

“my pretty bird,” you said quietly, and xiao’s eyes closed of their own volition.

yours.

#m1d : [chats]#m1d : [secrets]#sibling anon #bird!xiao shenanigans #< sorry for high jacking your post for this king #to stew anon: i saw your ask regarding bird xiao but the topic makes me uncomfortable. while i agree with your last point everything prior #is off the table. not your fault btw i never gave anything to suggest otherwise #anyway here’s another 800 words abt bird xiao in hopefully ‘good enough’ compensation #hey FUCK tumblr for continuing to delete the last paragraph of my fics #wholeheartedly #GOD fuck this fuck everything lesson learned NEVER DO JACK SHIT IN THE DRAFTS #tumblr is hell and i’m not good enough at navigating to get our #i’m fuckin sobbing- on my hands and knees disoriented and confused

679 notes · View notes

cnnmairoll · 3 months

Note

Hello. I was wondering if you could you write a platonic angst story where the reader is Blade's child. I was thinking usually the only thing that could calm Blade down when the mara flared up was Kafka's spirit whisper but what if being around the reader was also able to calm Blade down for some reason because Blade barely spends any time with the reader unless it's during one of his harsh training sessions and one night the reader decides enough was enough and started packing their stuff but they left behind their lucky weapon (that's your choice) and Blade found it the next morning.

A Cup of Cold Tea

Character : Blade Genre : Angst Disclaimer : The relationship between the reader and Blade will be platonic as stated by the request. a/n : This was my first Request, but it didn't take long for me to find out about the anon sending the same request to most of the HSR writers despite their request was closed. I kept it in my drafts since it would be a waste if i just scrap it all out, not to mention my friend helped me out on this one, so I decided, why not just write the final paragraph and post? Things has been quite rough and busy for me so I'm not done with my hiatus, but I hope you enjoy p.s im sorry if he's ooc here, I don't know his chara well

His blade descends on you, striking downwards in a beautiful arc to cleave your skull.

You dodge within an inch of your life, the after image of his sword burning into your retinas as you fall into a clumsy heap on the floor. Still, you spare no moment for yourself as you scramble up, his sword drawing contact to where you lay as soon as you move.

The minutes blends into hours, time being a concept of little value in the face of Blade's viciousness. It takes everything you have to simply focus on the present, dodging and deflecting when you can. You always stay on the defensive in fights like these; any window you have to strike opens itself for only a millisecond before Blade runs it through clean with his sword.

It makes you wonder how you'd fare if Blade gave it his all. You've seen Blade fight on missions enough times to know that he is much deadlier when he is putting in active effort. In contrast, his movements here are much more sloppy and rabid, fueled only by the unadulterated desire to destroy. It is the madness of his mara in its purest form, though it doesn't make his attacks any less fatal, as proven by the countless wounds that litter your body.

Dead within the first minute, probably, comes the stray thought. It proves to cost you when you earn a gash on your arm, blood spilling freely from your left. You grit your teeth; you need to pay attention. There's never a guarantee for your life when Blade gets like this.

Red spider lilies bloom around you like a garden welcoming death. It sings of carnage, reeking of blood that it greedily consumes, begging for more even if it will eventually wilt away. It feels symbolic, in a way. Out of the two of you, only you are the one who is able to experience true death.

Still, you cannot help but find the blooming sea of red beautiful, even if it is always likely to be your final resting place.

There is a lull in Blade's movements, the manic in his eyes glazing into a dull scarlet as he catches his breath. Immortal he may be, but even he has a limit he will reach. It is a mercy; not only does it signify that his mara has not yet reached a point of no return, it also allows you time to recuperate. Had Blade been given unlimited stamina on top of his self-healing, you would surely have died a long time ago.

Now that the man has tired himself, it is time to bring him back.

"Father," you begin. It comes out as a feeble whisper, your lungs still burning from exertion. Still, you must press on. "Are you okay?"

Blade is silent for a beat, then two. This is fine; you can wait for as long as he needs for your words to reach him. You've gone through this routine enough times to memorize his mannerisms, all of which are currently saying that you are in the clear. So long as his grip on his weapon doesn't tighten again, then you have nothing to be afraid of.

Silence reigns within the room, until you recognize the clarity return to Blade's eyes.

"..You," he grunts, voice hoarse. It's scratchy from his manic screaming and laughter, and you make a mental note to add honey to his tea for his throat.

You nod approvingly. "Yes, Father. Are you okay?" You repeat the question, and this time, Blade manages a sharp nod.

You grin, happy at his answer. You open your mouth to speak again, but Blade cuts you to it. "What happened to your arm?"

The man stares hard at something, and you follow his gaze to find the gash on your left arm. The bleeding has mostly stopped from what you can tell, but it's still an ugly thing to look at. You'll have to wash it soon.

You hum, considering. "It's only a minor cut, Father. I can patch it by myself later."

His eyebrows twitch, his eyes narrowing. "Come," he says simply, walking towards the door.

You let your sword disperse into particles of light before following Blade out of the room. You know there is no arguing with him when he gets like this. Any attempt to reassure him that you can handle yourself will only end with him staring at you with unreadable eyes until you inevitably give in. You're not sure if he does this because he is aware of this fact. Blade doesn't strike you as the type to be attentive to such details, but it's worked every single time, so.

You are both silent as he tends to your wound, cleaning it thoroughly before dutifully bandaging it. Blade even add bandages to the smaller cuts you would've left alone, meticulous in making sure all your wounds are taken care of. You know it is his way to apologize, as he is a silent man who prefers actions in lieu of words. That, and that he's always been awkward when it comes emotions like remorse.

"Get some rest," he says, returning the equipment to the first-aid kit. Blade looks at you, expectant, and it is only when you nod does he leave you alone.

He never calls you by name. It's something that bothered you when you were younger, but it's something you've grown to accept. You're not even certain Blade can recall your name if asked. You know it is his way to cope, to always be prepared for the day when you, too, will leave him. Remembering names are a burden on his soul, so the least you can do is spare him from remembering yours.

Your patience reached its limit. In the dead of night, you quietly packed your belongings and left a note behind. It was brief but carried the weight of your feelings: "I need to find my own path for a while. I hope you understand." You didn't sign it, hoping that the absence itself would convey the message more powerfully.

The moon hung high in the sky as you walked away from the place you called home, your steps determined despite the uncertainty that gnawed at you. You had no plan, no destination in mind. You just knew that you needed time away.

The next morning, Blade woke up to find the room unusually quiet. The absence of the usual sounds—your soft footsteps, the steaming sound of the kettle pot when you made his morning tea—was like a deafening silence. He pushed himself up, his senses alert even before his eyes fully opened. His gaze darted around the room, searching for any sign of your presence.

The sight of your neatly made bed and the note left on the table struck him like a blow. For a moment, he stood frozen, his heart heavy with a mixture of regret and realization. He had been so consumed by his own pursuits that he hadn't noticed the growing distance between you.

His eyes shifted to a corner of the room, where a familiar object caught his attention. There, placed with careful intention, was your lucky weapon. The fiery red blade of the sword gleamed in the soft morning light, its hilt wrapped in supple black leather. The pommel, resembling the closed bud of a red spider lily, held a sense of elegance and balance that echoed the bond between you and Blade.

A pang of guilt and longing gripped Blade's chest as he picked up the sword. The weight of it felt familiar in his hand, a stark reminder of the times he had shared with you. The sword seemed to dance in the air, reflecting both its deadly capabilities and the beauty of its craftsmanship—a reflection of the connection he had with you, one he had been neglecting.

Blade's footsteps were heavy as he left the room, carrying the sword with him. As he went to sit down and process your absence, he noticed a cup of tea placed neatly on the table. The tea, once steaming and fragrant, now languished in its cup, forgotten and neglected. It had been carefully prepared by you before you left, a gesture of concern and care. The faint aroma of the blend, a comforting blend of herbs and warmth, with a hint of honey, still clung to the air around it, a lingering reminder of their intention.

But time had been unkind to the tea, its temperature steadily dropping as it sat abandoned on the table. The steam that had once risen from its surface in delicate tendrils, carrying with it the promise of comfort, had now dissipated into the air. The liquid's once-rich hue had faded slightly, a sign that its vitality was waning, much like the embers of a dying fire.

Blade's eyes fell upon the cup, his gaze drawn to the cold tea that had been left for him. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding the blade, reached out to touch the cup, and he felt the chill radiating from its surface. It was a stark contrast to the warmth he had felt earlier, a reminder of how quickly time could transform something from inviting to forgotten.

As he wrapped his fingers around the cup, he couldn't help but recall the hoarse quality of his voice that had consumed him during their training session. You noticed, as you always did, attuned to the subtleties of his state. The touch of honey they had added was a balm for his throat, a gesture that had been both practical and considerate.

Blade's throat tightened with an emotion he couldn't quite name. The cold tea before him held within it layers of meaning—your concern, your attempt to provide comfort, and a reminder of his own shortcomings.

Regret gnawed at his insides, twisting and churning with every breath he took. Guilt clawed at his conscience, tearing through the facade of indifference he had so carefully crafted. Loneliness engulfed him like a suffocating cloak, reminding him of the void left in your absence. And yet, beneath it all, there flickered a tiny ember of hope—a glimmer of redemption, a chance to right the wrongs he had committed.

Blade couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of despair that threatened to consume him whole. For in that moment, he realized that the hardest battle he would ever face was not against his enemies, but against the demons of his own making—the ones that whispered of his failures and shortcomings, echoing relentlessly in the caverns of his heart.

#˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ mai writes #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #blade #hsr blade #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail blade #blade x reader #blade honkai #blade hsr #blade honkai star rail #honkai blade #hsr angst #honkai star rail angst

88 notes · View notes

arrowheadedbitch · 4 months

Note

So, I have an idea for a Time-Travel Tim Drake-centric fic (that was based on a dream i had), but I don't know how to write it *sobs* So if you or anyone else wants to use it, please do!!! Because I don't know how to cook my own food and I'm asking for scraps *sobs*

Anywaysssszzzzzz....

Tim is 35-ish years old, is divorced twice (Bernard and Kon respectively), is in his third marriage (with Bernard and Kon together), has a fat orange cat, has a small roomba he fondly says good morning to, and believes he successfully retired from the hero life while denying that he is actually still very deep into it.

He has Saturdays with the Superhero wives (Lois and Selina), gossiping about whatever, and is living his best life while a bunch of Gothamites are screaming for dear life in the background.

Well, the screaming is important because it's not just Gothamites screaming but the whole world from some end of the world bullshit superheroes are facing.

Tim takes a sip of his tea, then Lois' coffee, and accepts the asteroid about to kill him with open arms.

When he wakes up, he just knows that the asteroid he accepted with open arms was actually a time travelling asteroid. And no, he's usually right about these things no matter how outlandish. He's not smart, he just has great intuition, and he's just a really hard worker in proving that he's right.

So, he gets up, finds that he's in the past, takes a week soaking up all the attention his parents are giving him, and then gets to work.

(He's 11 here, btw. He hates it)

He was a hero in his past life, but he's so damn tired. He doesn't want to work, but he's read enough isekais and timetravel animes, mangas, and webnovels to know that the protagonist who's going through the same thing he does ends up doing a whole lot of work anyways.

So, yeah, he's not gonna get that break, even if he does have an end goal in mind. It's a fool's errand.

He's decided that things will just be easier if he's a supervillain.

He goes to Lex Luthor, hacks everything in his company, merges Luthor's company with Drake Industries, makes Drake Industries a bigger company than it needs to be but necessary, ignores Luthor's anguished cries, and steals Mercy for himself.

Drake Industries is now a supergiant company, bigger than Wayne Enterprises. But first, Tim donates all the Kryptonite Luthor had to the Justice League.

He makes everything goes right, makes sure some things are avoided. He destroys some properties here and there. He destroys an island or two. He hires other (retired) villains into his company. He takes over thr Court of Owls and uses then to fight against Ra's the moment the immortal pissed him off by flirting with his mom.

Anyways.

He reveals to the world Iron Man style that he is the supervillain that's trying to dominate the world.

He's 12.

No one believes him.

They all think it's a PR comedy thing to invite more people into D.I.

It works, but no one believes him and... it's great? Lex Luthor laughs mockingly in the dungeon he's chained in.

sound fun as hell, dude

54 notes · View notes

dreamingsnowflake2013 · 1 year

Photo

OMG! Be still my heart! Those fireworks are similar to those Susu made for him 500 years ago but they are not identical; Tantai Jin has drawn them for her using the sketch she taught him but he’s hiding it from her (when he waves his hand his spell doesn’t emit the red colour of the Devil God power but golden glow, just like her sketch)!

Tantai Jin’s most powerful and magical ability isn’t absorbing energy from demons but finding happiness in the smallest things others might consider trivial and turning them into bright rays of light which keep the darkness inside him at bay. The mere thought that Susu once believed him capable of being good and that he didn’t fail her, fulfiled her wish and is, in fact, good, even though she remains oblivious about it, is enough to make him bliss out and giddy, experiencing unadulterated happiness and joy. His proud smile and the question “does it look pretty?”, like he is waiting for her to review his spell, the only way he allows himself to show the truth.

He managed to draw the sketch already 500 years ago but actually kept it a secret from her ever since, probably the only part of himself he has never revealed to her and has been withholding from her, but is secretly showing to her now by creating the spell again even though she doesn’t know it. For Tantai Jin, this is another scrap of happiness he tucks and guards inside the deepest recesses of the heart he gave Susu centuries ago.

While he tries to make her hate him so she could kill him when the time comes, he doesn’t want her to resent him in his “Bo’re life”, this refuge inside his heart where he escapes when his demons and loneliness plague him.

This is a dream, a fleeting moment of elusive happiness he decides to steal for himself before he sacrifices his life for all living beings in the universe, to give him strength to do what he must and have something to remember when he turns into nothingness. He wants to do something selfish one last time and take something for himself, instead of constantly giving while receiving nothing in return - one final moment in which Susu loves him and belongs only to him, and he only to her.

And secretly, Tantai Jin wants to leave Susu a piece of himself behind, a proof that he and his love for her were real and existed, no matter how insignificant compared to the cosmic struggle between good and evil, hoping she would remember him once she learns the truth even when no one else would, especially when it was his love for her which ultimately defeated the darkness inside him and transformed him into the man he is today.

He doesn’t fear death but being forgotten by Su because what is oblivion and being forgotten other than second and ultimate death, being abandoned and unloved one final time.

Tantai Jin’s final wish is for his love to survive him, defeat and overcome death; he desperately craves to live inside her forever, this way he can become immortal too and be with her forever.

#till the end of the moon #luo yunxi #bai lu #cdrama

158 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 4 months

Text

Immortal Beloved - Chapter Nine.

A warm, heartfelt thank you to my readers for your continued engagement :)

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,140

Warnings - 18+ only. Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

“And so, I says to this fella, I says, right, listen here, mate! Any more out of you and you’ll be shitting your bloody teeth for a week, and you’ll never believe what he says to me, John. I tell ya now, you’ll never believe it, son. He stands there, right, fag dangling from his mouth, and he says to me...”

John didn’t give a damn what the fellow in question had said as they stood guarding the front gates of Bryn’s home, gladly watching the sun beginning to sink in the sky. From the first moment, he’d asked Tommy never to pair him with Mickey Two Suits, begged him, in fact, and what had his brother done?

…"so, there we are, right, having a scrap about it and then suddenly, this fucking umbrella comes flying out of nowhere! And it’s only the fella’s old dear, ain’t it, giving him a clobbering and dragging him home by his ear! I says to our Wilf, I says ‘eh, look at that! Thinks he’s hard enough to have a go at a Blinder and it’s his mom who has to run in and save his arse!’ What a night, John. Ya should have been there!”

“Mickey...”

“...and we went had a good ole’ knees up after, we did. Drank the Red Lion right out of whiskey that night, and you ain’t heard the best part yet, pal!”

“Mickey, will...”

“So, the landlord has this great, big Irish Wolfhound, right, and this group of lads are...”

“Two Suits! Holy fucking shit, will you shut up!” John’s exasperated tones matched his wide eyes, shaking his head. “Christ you don’t half yammer on, mate!”

Mickey pinked at the cheeks a little to have been – although lightly – admonished by one of his bosses, muttering his apologies and lighting a cigarette. He lasted all of twenty seconds.

“So, we off for a few Christmas Eve drinks up the pub once your lady wakes up? Christmas Eve at The Garrison, ain’t nothing like it, is there? Do you remember that one year when... bloody hell!”

This time, though, Mickey’s no doubt lengthy spiel was interrupted by a sight that made John’s heart flutter, Bryn suddenly appearing before them. “No, Mickey. John and I are to depart for Warwickshire, to a party hosted by Tommy and the lovely Grace.”

John had wondered how well Grace would take to Bryn, but after introducing them for the first time just three days before, he’d found the women had a very natural chemistry with one another. He was also pleased – for Tommy more than himself – that it had encouraged Polly to warm towards his soon-to-be sister-in-law a little more as well, since he and Grace were to be married in the New Year.

His aunt was not quick to warm to any women who came into the lives of her beloved nephews, especially not if she had good reason not to trust them, just as she’d had with both Grace and Bryn. For the latter, though, it had melted as soon as she’d seen something of herself within his ancient vampire lover, a woman who’d had her children torn from her, a woman whose pain she understood all too well.

Leaving Mickey to trudge down to the bus stop and travel back to Small Heath, John and Bryn went inside, the former pouring himself a whiskey while Bryn readied herself for the evening. She was affixing tiny little pearl adorned pins into her hair when he ventured into the bedroom, kissing her bare shoulder as she sat at her vanity.

“I thought you lot weren’t meant have a reflection.”

Him and that flipping novel he’d taken it upon himself to read. She rolled her eyes, turning to press her lips to his cheek. “Not everything Bram Stoker claims about us is true, you know.” Picking up her perfume, she spritzed herself liberally, the scent misting over her pale skin. “Although I must confess, being able to turn myself into a bat would be useful. If for nothing else than to retreat from awkward social situations.”

“Yeah,” he hummed, swirling the amber contents of his glass, “don’t think I’d fancy you half as much as a flying rodent. Maybe a bit still, like, but not as much as usual.”

Her look of incredulity had him tipping his head back, his laughter filling the room. “You are disgusting, John Shelby!”

“Still laughing though, ain’t ya!” Indeed, she was. His uncouthness, lack of filter and penchant for being completely inappropriate never ceased to entertain her. Truly, she had never met anybody like her darling John. She shook her head, picking up her kohl pencil and beginning to smoke her eyes sultry black. A little mascara and a twist of rouge to her cheeks and she was finished, speedily packing the rest of what she needed for their stay at Arrow House and whizzing down to the car to place her cases in, John going to ready Katie.

The child had been spending more time with him at Bryn’s since school had finished for Christmas, being cared for during the day by Bettie until Bryn awoke and spent time with her before bed. It had warmed his heart hugely to witness their bond forming, Katie furnishing the Christmas tree with her help, overhearing the bedtime stories his love would recite to her, the old Norse sagas his daughter loved to hear. Katie’s bedtime upon their arrival at Tommy’s house was no different.

“The crow went flying toward the North, croaking as she flew, “Let Hela keep what she holds. Let Hela keep what she holds.” That crow was the hag Thaukt transformed, and the hag Thaukt was Loki.

“He flew to the north and came into the wastes of Jötunheim. As a crow he lived there, hiding himself from the wrath of the Gods. He told the giants that the time had come for them to build the ship Naglfar, the ship that was to be built out of the nails of dead men, and that was to sail to Asgard on the day of Ragnarök with the giant Hrymer steering it...”

Standing in silent watch through the crack in the door, John smiled widely as Bryn recited a fairytale about Loki, Norse god of mischief to his spellbound daughter, the covers pulled up to her chin, Bryn’s hands gesturing as she spoke of the tale. At her core, she was such a natural mother, something within her so strongly maternal. The thought had never crossed his mind back when he’d first begun his courtship with her, but truly, she was everything Katie needed.

She was everything he needed, too.

“Now that’s a look of love if ever I saw one.”

At hearing Polly’s whisper, he turned, grin still fixed firmly in place as his cheeks coloured a little bit at being caught staring so adoringly at the scene. “She’s only known her just under three weeks and she dotes on that little girl as if she were her own.” Walking away from the bedroom, he pulled a cigarette out, lighting up. “Ain’t what you thought she was, is she?”

Polly lifted her chin, her eyes narrowing a fraction. “I don’t like to concede, but you’re right. She isn’t. Brynhild has surprised me with her nature. I never forget what she is, but I’m getting to know that what she is isn’t all she is.” Reaching for his face, she stroked his cheek, laying a pecked kiss upon the other. “I’m pleased for you, love. You look very happy.”

He smiled again, his handsome features lighting up the dim glow coming from the bedroom. “I am, Pol. Might not have been long, but I am.”

“Come on.” Opening her arm, she draped it around his shoulders, steering him down the corridor in the direction of the stairs. “Let’s go get drunk and eat too much food, have a good ole’ knees up.”

Walking down into the throng of people milling around the welcome hall, the mix of guests were mostly business, both legitimate and not so, family and friends, servers carrying trays of drinks and food, the laughter and chatter filling the spruce-scented air. John was just reaching for a whiskey when he felt a cool hand slip into his, Bryn arriving with him, taking a champagne flute from a passing member of the wait staff.

“How does it feel?”

“How does what feel, my darling?” she asked, pressing herself close to him as he released her hand, wrapping an arm around her instead.

“To be the most beautiful woman in the room?”

She sipped her champagne, eyeing him with a twinkle there in the hypnotic blue of her irises. “Oh, you presume yourself to be so very charming!”

His smirk widened. “Are you charmed?”

“I am,” she hummed.

“Then I’m fucking charming.” He kissed her head, his arm tightening around her. “Tell me about what underwear you’ve got on under that dress.”

“You know my thoughts towards underwear, my love,” she purred, kissing his cheek as they moved through the guests. “I don’t like anything that gets in the way of your mouth.”

A bolt shot through him, John closing his eyes for a moment. Opening them, he pulled himself back from the haze of lust to be greeted by an oncoming business associate, fellow bookmaker Kenneth Thompson.

“John! Good evening to you and your fine lady, here! How are you keeping?”

While he and her love got into conversation about the next race meets of the New Year, Bryn found herself beckoned over by Grace and Polly, gliding over through the throng of guests. It was as a young server passed her by that she caught the faintest whiff of it, a smell her nose never failed to detect. Her eyes snapped to the back of the redheaded girl’s neatly pinned tresses, watching her move from guest to guest.

“You’re on alert,” Polly noted when she arrived with them, seeing how Bryn suddenly appeared much less casual in demeanour. “What is it?” Although not knowing her for long, she’d familiarised herself with how the vampire carried herself, the minute changes within her normally quite stoic disposition. Polly Gray well understood when it paid to be observant.

“That girl,” Bryn began, pointing with her champagne flute. “Grace, how new is she within your employment? Also, is she local?”

“Very new,” she confirmed, her eyes following the cold, hard stare of her vampire friend’s eyes. “Everybody is, though. With us only officially moving in recently, the staff were hired just over a week ago. As for where she’s from, Tyneside according to her references. Why do you ask?”

“Thought I recognised her locally. I must be mistaken.” she lied, giving Polly a look that she read instantly. Tommy hadn’t filled in Grace over everything regarding Bryn, other than to obviously keep what she was well under her hat. Initially, she hadn’t believed him at all, laughing away under the impression that he was having her on upon their first meet. When Bryn had proved it by popping her fangs, she’d almost fallen out of her chair.

With Grace called away to continue playing gracious hostess, Polly moved Bryn into the corner of the room away from earshot of the other partygoers. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“That girl,” she began, her eyes flitting away to follow her before they snapped back to Polly. “She does not bathe often, for not only do I detect a fine scent of body odour, but I also smell Rasmussen on her. It is faint, but present.”

“You’re fucking joking me,” she hissed, eyes scanning the room. “I’ll get John and Tommy, let’s get this sorted.”

Immediately, Bryn gripped her arm. “No, no, Polly. We need not involve the men just yet. Let me watch her. Act as you normally would, begin to laugh at everything I’m saying.”

Polly’s faux, yet believable chuckle filled the air, Bryn affixing a huge smile to her face before launching into a real story, all the while watching the girl as she flitted from guest to guest. For all intents and purposes, they were having a wonderful Christmas Eve, with no suspicions over any infiltration to their circle.

Every so often, the serving girl’s eyes would find Bryn, studying her in confirmation of this, the vampire feeling her entire being hum on high alert. As soon as she exited the welcome hall, Bryn moved to follow her, ducking speedily into the shadows as she stalked her, the girl looking as if she was heading back down to the kitchen.

There was a pantry just to the side of the grand kitchen, a designated space where the butler would keep track of the household provisions at a small desk and put in the orders at the grocery, baker and butcher on a twice-weekly basis, Bryn remaining concealed from sight as the girl quietly made her way inside. She was just about to enter after her when John and Polly appeared.

“Oi, don’t you look at me like that, Brynhild,” Polly whispered sternly, noting the displeasure she was viewed with. “Wasn’t me who said anything.”

“She’s right, love” John spoke, touching a hand to her shoulder. “It was me who felt it.”

Of course, he would. John Shelby had so much of her blood travelling through his veins at that point, he might as well have called himself Brynhild Mark Two. Holding a finger to her lips, Bryn listened, hearing the serving girl make her request to the telephone exchange. Rasmussen.

Bingo.

“Mr Rasmussen, I hope I am not disturbing you.”

Before John or Polly knew it, Bryn was gone from before them, the butler’s pantry door flung open, both striding in to find the telephone cable pulled from the socket and a snarling Bryn pressing the girl down onto the desk by her throat.

“How much did he pay you to infiltrate?” she growled, her fangs bared, the girl shaking in fright as she found herself at the very wrong end of a powerful vampire’s temper.

“I-I d-d-don't know w-what you...”

“Oh, bloody spare us!” Polly exclaimed, closing the door behind them. “You can’t fool a nose like hers. She smelled them on you.”

“B-but I-I...”

Bryn’s gripped tightened. “I said, how much, child?”

“T-ten p-pounds.”

A lot of money for a girl who she estimated likely earned less than a third of that a week. “I will pay you treble that to call him back right now and tell him that I am not among the Shelby family. For I know that is why you are here. As my friend just stated, I can smell them on you.” She shook her head, her nose crinkling. “Poor, unfortunate girl. Perhaps if you bathed more often, you might have been successful.”

Nodding through her shakes, she felt on the verge of wetting her knickers in fear, watching the vampire as she looked to her companions. “Darling, plug the telephone back in.”

John nodded, eyeing the girl with distaste, Bryn going into her small clutch bag and pulling out three ten-pound notes. “Here. I will pay you this to deliver the message. That is all you have to do. Do you understand?”

“I-I do.”

Bryn beamed, but her smile carried not a trace of warmth to it. “Good.”

With the phone reconnected, the girl tucked her money into her neat little apron, taking the receiver and once again requesting the correct name to the exchange.

“Helen, we were cut off before. Now, what do you have for us, pet?” Edward asked upon answering, the girl not able to drag her eyes away from Bryn, shaking with fright at the faint sound of her rumbling warning growl.

“I’m afraid I have nothing.” She swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. “The woman you described is not within the guests. Just about everybody else notable is, but not any women with dark hair and a tattooed throat and chest, I’m afraid, sir.”

“Stick around, she mightn't have arrived yet. Like we said, it might be another. Sounds daft, love, but look out for people who are paler than usual, and who don’t eat or drink with quite the same gusto as others do, like.”

“Shall do, sir. I will report back tomorrow evening.” With that, the call ended, Helen finding herself on the receiving end of three very angry looking people. Well, only two were people. “What do I tell him tomorrow?”

“As long as it doesn’t involve anything to do with vampires being around the family, tell him whatever the fuck you like,” John spoke, moving to impose himself before her, reaching into his pocket to pull out his knife. “And if you do fucking breathe a word about her to anyone, we will find out, and bab, you don’t want to know what I’ll fucking do to ya. We clear?”

With a cold blade pressed against her cheek and the even colder glare of a vampire upon her, Helen nodded. “I shan’t say anything. I’ll just tell him there wasn’t any here. I promise, just please don’t hurt me.”

Returning the knife to his pocket, he patted her cheek with his hand. “Good girl. Now, go up and pack your bags. Now.”

“No.” Halting her with a splayed hand to her chest, Bryn stood in her path, shaking her head as she looked to John. “We must ensure she makes that call, John. If she doesn’t, then they will deduce that I am here and have dealt with her.”

She was right. “What do you plan on doing to her?”

Bryn pondered his statement for all of five seconds. “Fetch me some rope. We tie her to a chair in here and tell no one to enter. Then we come down here again at sundown tomorrow, let her make her call and escort her from the premises.”

“And what the fuck are we meant to tell the serving staff, why they can’t come in here all of a sudden?” he asked, perplexed.

Shaking her head in bafflement, a frown of light incredulity creased her forehead. “Darling, you run both legitimate and cooked books for a living; you’re better at mathematics than most of the fucking Arabs who created it. You’re also a goddamned Shelby, lying is in your nature. Do not tell me such mental calculus is beyond you.” Her eyebrows continued to rise, gesticulating wildly with her free hand. “Bloody make something up!”

Polly couldn’t keep the smile from her face at how Bryn had both managed to praise and admonish him at the exact same time, especially watching John not know whether to be annoyed or enamoured by the crisply delivered statement from his lady.

“I ain’t sure if I want to fuck you or slap you right now.”

“I’ll let you do both later,” she winked, nodding towards the door. “Rope. Now.” As soon as he left the pantry, Polly was in soft fits.

“Oh, my giddy aunt!” she snorted, lighting herself a cigarette while Bryn pushed a still terrified, but complacent Helen down into the wooden chair behind the desk. “Seeing you run circles around my bloody nephew like that is the only Christmas present I’ll need this year.”

Bryn smirked, taking Helen’s hand and popping her fangs, forcing the young woman’s finger to her mouth and piercing the tip upon the point of one of those long, sharp teeth. Helen winced, Bryn licking the drop of blood that swelled forth. “There is my insurance, should stupidity and luck be on your side and mean you somehow escape. I will be able to find my way to you instantly.”

With the way John bound her legs and arms to the chair upon his return, though, Bryn sorely doubted that Helen would be going anywhere, but took the phone with them just in case. “Please tell me that one day you shall delight my senses by tying me to the bed like that.”

He paused upon the staircase, raising an eyebrow. “You could get out of it in about half a second, though.”

“I could,” she purred, leaning close to flick her tongue against his earlobe, giving it a little nibble. “I wouldn’t attempt to, though.”

“You,” he began, waving a finger at her, “you need to pack it in, you do. We’ve got to go fill Tommy in over all of this and you’ve bloody gone and gotten me at half-mast as it fucking is.” He nodded downwards, Bryn seeing the outline of his cock beginning to tent his trousers, chuckling as she grinned.

“Well, my, my.” Leaning close, she kissed him, her lips all fiery honey upon his. “It looks like something is looking up this evening after all.”

Carrying on up the stairs, she left him standing there waiting to deflate again, shaking his head as he muttered. “Bloody insufferable temptress.”

“I heard that.”

“You were fucking meant to, bab!” he shouted, making the server passing him jump, John placing a reassuring hand to his shoulder as he grinned widely, the man continuing his trajectory. “God, I love that woman.”

As she stepped back into the throng of the party, Bryn heard that, too. She would never tire of it either, slipping her hand into his when he joined her after a few moments, fully calmed in the trouser department as they walked over to where Polly waited for them, opening the door to Tommy’s office.

“Grace specifically told me no business tonight, so whatever this is, make it quick,” he spoke, taking a seat behind his desk, looking up to see Arthur enter the room, neatly closing the door behind him and shutting out the noise from the party.

“Do not worry, Tommy. I have every intention of being perfectly concise so we may resume this wonderful evening you and Grace have put together for us,” Bryn began, Tommy nodding in acknowledgement of her praise, his eyes fixing upon her. “A spy sent by Edward Rasmussen infiltrated your serving staff. It was only because the dirty girl does not bathe quite as often as one should that I managed to smell their scent upon her, knew she had been close to them.

“She was sent here to look for me specifically. I apprehended her with John and Polly prior to her delivering news to Edward himself, intercepted the phone call she was shortly to make, forcing her to tell him all was clear. He expects her to call in again tomorrow to confirm that no vampire fitting my image, or any other for that matter arrived here at Arrow House.”

Arthur leaned around Polly, nodding to her. “You alright though, love? She ain’t burned you with no silver or nothing, has she?”

Bryn was touched by his concern. “I am fine, dear Arthur. Trust and believe if she had of attempted to wound me, your brother would have likely acted swiftly.”

“Wouldn’t fucking half have,” John muttered, pulling a cigar from his pocket and lighting up.

Tommy digested her words, drawing idly upon his cigarette. “Which serving girl was it?”

“Helen.”

“And where is Helen now?”

“Tied up in the butler’s pantry.”

He rose to his feet. “Good enough, Brynhild.” Walking around the desk, he placed a hand to John’s shoulder as he passed. “Fits into our world just nicely does your lady, John boy. We’ll deal with this tomorrow.” Opening his door, he gestured through the space, the noise of the merriment filling the air as his family filed back out. Bryn was the last to leave, Tommy halting her with a soft hand to her forearm.

“I’ll leave it to your discretion, whether Helen actually leaves the grounds or not tomorrow,” he whispered, his stare so strong Bryn felt it boring into the back of her skull. “Either way, though, she is to be gone and kept quiet.”

Bryn would not have survived for as long as she had, should she not have known well how to read between the lines. Smiling, she leaned to kiss Tommy’s cheek, gliding from the room to take another glass of champagne and slide in at her love’s side once more, the head of the family watching her as he closed the heavy office door behind him.

In offering his protection to Bryn, he saw well how the alliance benefitted him from her being close to them. Literally being able to smell the faint trace of an enemy upon a person was a skill he wished he possessed, but did not need to now that he had the most powerful vampire in England close with his family.

Tommy Shelby knew a valuable asset when he saw one. The fact that she made his younger brother the happiest looking man in the room didn’t hurt either.

#john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #john shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic #john shelby x ofc #john shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #peaky fucking blinders #immortal beloved #john and Bryn

37 notes · View notes