#unfortunately Man has never considered examining himself so he just keeps living his best life and his friends have to constantly

[husbandohunter]

Your Stardew Impact has given me a serious brainrot and I couldn’t sleep on it so here

Imagine the boys getting Isekai to Stardew and meeting their (soon-to-be) s/o a.k.a the farmer who found them in the mines and dragged them out.

It’s basically the same as the original but the reader lives in Stardew universe from the beginning.

The Outlanders who trespassed the Stars [Stardew Valley + Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: You were a simple farmer who lived a simple life before crossing paths with these outlanders. A tale of greetings and farewells tells a story that loving someone was like looking at the stars in the sky; a sense of warmth amidst darkness, where the dots connect no matter what distance it was. But just like stars, they were meant to be unobtainable.

(Basically what happens if the boys get Isekai'd)

Genre: fluff, angst (faceapalm didn't mean to)

Characters: Childe, Xiao, Zhongli

(A/n): Hi anon, haha I didn't think the Stardew Impact series would be this enjoyable. Allow me to serve your brainrot. But just for future references there is a character limit! Also it long, a pro tip to use ctrl+F and type in the name :>

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~Childe's Story~

The day you met Childe was perhaps during the most fortunate yet unfortunate hour of your life.

Winter comes by, your fields were left dry, what else was there to do other than mining? You were aiming to build a new Barnhouse before summer comes, fishing only made average income thus you decided to take your pickaxe and hope to run into some diamonds, gold or even better: prismatic shards. However, expensive items could only be found in the deepest parts of the mountains, where dangerous monsters lurk by.

When peeking over the abandoned minecart you so carefully shielded yourself with, you began contemplating whether you've just dug yourself a grave instead. The whole area became infested, you weren't in the best condition and on top of all that, you were out of food.

You decided to make a run for it, with the treasures and goodies at hand, you couldn't give up. However, things only got worse when purple mist began taking over your vision, signaling a lava bat wave drawing nigh. It was thanks to your greed that you ended in such a predicament but it was also your greed that brought you to him.

"W-Woah!!"

You tripped with your toe pointing downwards into a pile of wooden crates. The bats swarmed in shortly after, daunting around the area above but you couldn't afford to look. Your face was down to the ground and you could only rely on your ears regarding their whereabouts. As if Yoba heard your prayers, the lava bats could not seem to find you, confusing them to think you've escaped. And so, they flew away.

"I'm never doing that again," The sudden impact was excruciating, you were sure that your lip bled due to biting too hard. At least the floor felt somewhat soft, cotton-like and warm enough to be comforting. Yet, for some reason it was also a little…bony?

"…Mn…."

Your body jerks up like a springboard when you felt something shifting. A man, no older than his twenties, no older than you, lays sprawled out under your form. He was beginning to stir and you panicked when a pair of blue cerulean eyes pointed into your seemingly shocked ones within the close parameter.

Too close.

The man gives a cheerfully wry chuckle, you could practically feel his breath almost, "Well this is quite unexpected, didn't think I'd end up in this position," he jests, soon his expression began to tighten into a grimace, "Mind getting off me though? With all due respect miss, you're a little-…heavy."

You scrambled to the side while still kneeling, "What the hell, who are you?!"

"Hm," The man didn't answer, instead he pushed himself upright and turned his attention to examine the surroundings, "Where are we?" He paused when he noticed how the ceiling was made of rocks, "Wait, is this a cave?"

"Ninety two floors deep and surrounded by monsters," you sighed in frustration while rubbing your head with your palm, "Seriously, whoever you are you shouldn't be here, especially if you're not even carrying the necessary supplies."

"Hey, I just got here. I'm just as confused as you," he puts his hands up in a defensive gesture, "But how strange," he mutters to himself, lowering his arms ever so slightly before pinching his chin in deep thought, "I swear it was the right portal…or maybe it was the other one? Hmmm, could it be the effect of the hidden seal?"

I have so many questions. You sweatdropped nervously. Here you were, hours spent to get to the deepest parts of the earth and looking like a cavewoman while his clothes were practically untouched, nor did they seem to be a recognizable fashion. You've seen many odd events within Stardew Valley but not to this extent, "Alright you know what, let's forget about it for now. We need to get out of here before those lava bats come back for us again. Otherwise we're toast," you gestured to the lava pool, "Literally."

He gave another one of his gleeful smiles, you wondered if he was afraid at all, "Sounds like a solid plan to me. Judging by the equipment you're wearing, you seem to have been here for a while. You know your way around?"

Figures that he doesn't know, you thought, "I'll lead."

"Glad we're on the same page. Though, we've only just met and yet you're still willing to help a stranger like me," he mentions in an off-handed manner, perhaps he wasn't used to generosity ever since being recruited as a harbinger, "But not that I'm complaining. You have my thanks, comrade."

"(Y/n)," you tell him, "That's my name. I'm a farmer that resides in this town."

"I see. A town it is then," he inquires, "Call me Childe, as where I'm from, not sure how to answer that anymore."

"What do you-"

But before you were able to question him further, a hoard of lava crabs were spotted crawling it's way towards where Childe sat. He shot you a confused look and turned to the direction, amusement sparks in his eyes,

"Lava crabs? You've got to be kidding me," your arms have already grown tired long ago, at this rate, you figured it may be best to pay a visit to Harvey's doctor office and check up for any muscle strains that have occured during the process. You most likely have considered how heavy your items felt now. Partaking in another battle would only make it worse.

"Ah an opponent, to think this place wouldn't have a set of new monsters to fight. I was growing tired of beating up hilichurls all the time."

His casual reaction caused you to scrunch up your nose in disbelief, "We're being ganged up on and your first response was that???"

Childe paid no mind, instead he propelled himself back to his feet using his trained reflexes and swaggered towards the crowd, "Relax girlie," Stopping just after a few steps, he turns his head ajar over his shoulder with a floppy smirk spreading his lips, "I've got this."

You held in your breath, wondering if you could trust this man. For now all you could do was sit back and hopefully regain some of your strength while observing by the stacks of crates that were abandoned years ago. The lava crabs formed a straight line in front of him, they were smart creatures, cornering their prey in a very well strategized form so that trespassing was out of the question. Childe wasn't intimidated in the slightest, he merely looked down at them with hooded eyes, flexing his fingers for preparation.

"Lava crab…in other words you're of the pyro element," the harbinger holds out his hand in front of him, trying to cultivate the shape of his bow, "A shame. This fight would end much shorter than I anticipated."

However, when he expected his element to manifest, nothing came out. Childe was left dumbfounded.

"Don't just stand there," you screeched, "Do something!!!"

"Wait," he halts you and tries to summon his bow again. Once, twice, as the crabs grew closer still there was nothing, "My powers…they're gone?!"

"Take this," left without a choice, you pushed yourself towards him and shoved Neptune's glaive into his grasp. He examines it with curiosity, but you knew this was also your own well-being you were entrusting him, "It's really easy to use, just-"

When a crab leapt forward, you ran back to create some manageable space for Childe to move in. He delivers a powerful slice using one arm, hitting the crab's weak spot while tossing it toward the side until a dent was formed in the wall. Your mouth parts, fast, he was fast, you didn't even have the time to blink. It was as if he knew the glaive more than you did. Though, the assumption wasn't that far from the truth. Childe was well adept with swordsmanship as he was an expert with many other melee weapons. Which is precisely the reason why he chose the bow as his main, a ranged device, the challenge to keep him on his toes. Just like he was now.

"He wasn't lying when he said he could fight," you watched in mesmerization, each single blow he delivered deemed equivalent to three hits on your part. Childe was both powerful and swift. He was formidable. The way he effortlessly deflected his opponents despite not having an enchantment ring made you forget how much of an idiot he was earlier before. Soon, the lava crabs began to lessen, leaving what remained of their dusted corpse while some retreated back into the depths of the cave.

"Not bad, it was kind of fun!" Childe laughs exasperatedly, glancing at his blue reflection upon the marred blade, "It's been a while since I last used a sword, and still haven't gone rusty either," he hands you the hilt, "Thanks for letting me use it by the way. You seriously got yourself a sick weapon."

"Keep using it for now, I think I'm a little too worn out to handle it," you say regretfully and pointed your nose towards the ceiling, "The mist hasn't disappeared so there's probably gonna be more monsters we'll encounter soon."

Childe looks up as well, "Huh I was wondering what that meant."

"By the way I've never seen anyone fight like that. Exactly what kind of place are you from?" You finally ask, "You somehow ended up in a cave, without anything to defend yourself with and it's not like you know your way out either. Are you...from another world?"

"Huh didn't think you'd draw that conclusion so quick," he comments jokingly, "Guess there's no reason to hide it anymore. Indeed I am from another world, at least, that's what I can tell so far. I've never encountered these types of monsters either."

You couldn't help but be taken aback by his honesty, "That was strangely easier than I thought...."

After escaping the cave, you introduced Childe to the wizard who lived in Cindersap forest, M. Rasmodius. He was extremely intrigued by the concept of an outlander and seemed happy to be of assistance. Since helping others was the culture of Pelican Town, you commissioned Robin to build a small cabin for him to live in temporarily. In return, Childe must accompany you back to the caves and make up for your losses. It was a mutual benefit since he had the opportunity to fight as well.

Childe befriended the townsfolk rather easily. On friday nights where everyone goes to the Saloon to enjoy their time, he would be found in the other room playing pool with the gang (Sam, Abigail and Sebastian)-- you as well when he managed to drag you along with him.

Crashes at your place when you were busy with the farm. You can bet that he would pop up suddenly midday through your window, “Can you use the door like a normal person???” But despite how much you get irritated by this habit, all bygones are bygones the moment he starts a conversation.

He sticks around as you carry your hay batches, sharing his stories. How the organization he worked in was a powerful militaristic force that had authority over many countries. But you didn't see him as a brute since he only joined for the sake of his parents, for the sake of his siblings and their dreams.

You thought of your grandfather who also once told you to pursue your dreams: live a peaceful life away from urban society. However, as long as the harbinger was with you, there wasn't much option for 'peace'.

"Tell me again why you dragged me out here? You know thatI still have a lot of work to finish back in the farm," you trekked your feet through the thick icy sheets with one hand clutching the zipper near your collarbone. It was incredibly windy in Cindersap forest and Childe happened to have convinced you to leave the comfort of your home for 'a surprise favour'. He purposely made a vague statement to draw in your curiosity but if you had refused-- well, that would have led to constant nagging on his part.

"You'll see," is what he said, it was what he told you through this whole ordeal. He lifted his chin to feel the frosty air against his face, "There's this one activity I wanted to try out. Back in Snezhnaya, I used to bring my brother to go skating out on the lakes. It's deadly freezing there so the ice is pretty thick to work on. Haven't done any of that since I joined the Fatui."

You shot him a deadpan glare, "That's why you brought me out here? Why didn't you just go by yourself?"

"Now that's cold (Y/n),” you rolled your eyes at the pun, “Can't you loosen up instead of throwing yourself in a pile of work all day?"

"It's not that I don't want to...I'm just very busy with the farm since it's the last day of the month. At least I want to do as much as I can before Spring comes."

"Haha you're right but you only live once y'know?" Childe noted happily despite your protest, "And like I said before, seize the opportunity when you see it. You never know when it will be your last."

You cocked your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Now let's get started shall we?" As you both reach the edge of the frozen lake, Childe takes a step forward ahead of you, "Have you ever gone ice skating before?"

"Yeah but..." You glanced at the glassy surface with skepticism, suddenly struck by hesitance. The thought of drowning made you retreat your steps right away, "I don't know Childe, it doesn't seem that safe."

"That's true if you're not careful enough," he pointed out, "Luckily you have me to help you with that."

"How does that work?"

He placed one foot onto the hardened lake and parts his mouth into a grin, "Watch."

In contrast to your cautious personality, Childe was considered to be more of a wildcard if anything. He loved adventure, just like you except his side often included bloodshed and the thrill that danger carries. You weren't sure if it was worth putting up with his antics or entertaining his idea of skating on thin ice, but you complied regardless. He had a way of delivering his words through that cheery voice you couldn't deny.

Prior to meeting him, life was boring. The corporate world was boring. You moved into your grandfather's farm in order to search for some form of fulfillment that Zuzu city couldn't give and you thought you did now that you had your very own farm, but slowly you began to pile more responsibilities than you could even count.

Everything you did, you did alone.

If it weren't for Childe, you wouldn't have learned the art of surfing on ocean waters. You never would have known the taste of mixing three different ice-cream flavours together despite what strange names they all had. Or what it felt like to mingle with the townspeople rather than mingling for the sake of business. Suddenly, everything became...fun.

Childe wanted to go far and wide. He was always running, so far ahead, somewhere beyond the stars as he could conquer the world to the point you might no longer reach him.

No longer reach him, huh. Curling your fingers into your palm, you renewed your courage and took a step onto the ice.

At the sound of boots tapping behind him, Childe spins around to see you wobble in your stance, nearly tipping over. He slid across to where you were and grasped your arm before you fell.

"Gotcha."

"Thanks," You sighed in relief, "Jeez, this is harder than I thought."

"Guess this is your first time then," he commented with a bit of jest, "Don't stress yourself over it too much, you'll be okay. I got you."

He carefully led you to the center, staying close in case you were to fall sideways again. You awkwardly tried to keep your legs straight, balancing on your own yet the fact that there was still water underneath struck fear into your nerve. It caused you to tremble and eventually skittered backwards.

"Haha ice skating isn't your forte isn't it?"

"I'm just getting started!"

He takes your hand in his before you could even protest, it was one of his many aspects that you found endearing-- the fact his impulse stems from genuine intentions, feelings, not giving them a second thought. The two of you glide using the soles of your shoes, he speeds up ever so slightly and the adrenaline begins to increase until there comes a rush of excitement, freedom. The stress you once had already forgotten once taking flight upon the ice.

"Look Childe! I'm actually doing it!" You couldn't help mentioning with a bit of youthful playfulness in your voice, "It's so smooth and fast! Almost like I'm flying!"

He smiles quietly from a distance, “See? I told you that you'll be fine.”

It was clear to many that the two of you were much closer than what meets the eye.

Childe began to notice the change in your aura. You were happier and much more soulful. Before you were always on the edge, cautious in contrast to his sanguine approach, he couldn't help but be caught off guard whenever you teased him. Or the sudden honesty that causes him to be flustered. By your side, he was no longer a Fatui Harbinger rather more of a puppy, adorable almost.

But when he saw that the reason you changed was because of him, it brought fear into his bones. Why? How did things get to this point? You were lost in a wonderland, ignorant to the blossom that had sprung inside of your chest.

Maybe it was better to be ignorant. Just live in the moment while it can still last.

"You're leaving?"

Standing at the gateway between the mountain cliffside and the starry sky, you call out to the man you've known in a way that carries more than what words could say. Because he left a mark in your years that could never be erased and here he was, trying to erase his existence completely.

Childe lets out a bitter chuckle, he didn't dare to face you, "I didn't expect you to catch up so quickly. You're quick-witted, comrade."

"It's (Y/n)," you corrected, trying to steady your voice so that he couldn't tell the expression you were making, "Why didn't you say anything? What makes you think that I'll just stay silent and let you go on your own way? This isn't a joke Childe! Don't act as if none of it matters to you because it sure as hell did to me."

His lips that held his usual smirk flattens into a straight line, "Even if I did, would it make a difference?"

The world stills. You knew the answer, he knew the answer, you just refused to admit it. One by one, the stars begin to collect themselves until a bridge was formed in front of him, on another day he would be enjoying the scenery alongside you. But today they would be for you alone to witness. The man who you spent your time with had slowly, regretfully, inevitably became a stranger. He was right. It wouldn't make a difference. You were already aware since the day you met him that he belonged to another world and you willingly offered to help him find a way home.

"You know, you could come with me."

Your eyes jolt open. His voice was so free of care. As if he was commenting on something so minor on a casual Sunday afternoon while accompanying you to the beach. But when you came face to face with the harbinger, his expression lackluster, you knew that he meant every word.

"Just you and me, we can travel across the world to our heart's content. I always thought you were an adventurer just like me and you know what, the farm life just doesn't suit you," Childe slowly extends his hand as an offer, for you it was a temptation, "So what do you think? Care to join me?

Your lip quivers. What he said sounded like a sweet dream that you so desperately wanted to take a bite out of. But even so, you thought about the townsfolk, your farm, your grandfather. Their images flashed in as if holding you back, chaining you to the ground, "I can't."

The answer pained you more than it did to him.

"Figures, this is your home after all," he huffs out, " Now do you understand? I can't leave my home either. If I did, heh, I think my siblings would despise me until the very end and I just don't want that. So no hard feelings, okay?"

You didn't reply.

"Don't worry. I won't pressure you if you don't want to," Childe turns back to the bridge, it was almost time, "Do what you have to do (Y/n), hate me if it makes you feel any better. You can even forget about me," he paused, renewing his resolve, "But I know I won't."

"Childe-"

You ran to grab his scarf only to have it ghost through your hands. He was relieved that he couldn't hear your voice, as he returned to Teyvat, Childe wonders what kind of expression did you have before he left? He'll never know.

---

~Xiao's Story~

The day you met Xiao...well, you weren't in the best of the best positions.

This was probably your sixth attempt trying to make it through all levels of the cave and reach the last floor. The quest had been sitting in your drawer for months.

Of course you didn't expect things to be easy, the fortune teller channel you watched every morning had yet to inform you with any good fortune and you would often bump into obstacles that would halt your progress.

But to be fair, sometimes the colourful ore would attract your attention and before you knew it, it was time to go.

So close yet so far. You dragged your feet tiredly against the ground. What time was it? Who knows. Judging by your state, you assumed it had already struck past 12 a.m.

However, today luck seems to have taken pity on you, just...slightly.

You puffed air into your cupped hands for the nth time, huddling deeper into the touch of your coat while trudging into the cave's cold climate. A little longer, any time soon, you kept telling yourself over and over but as if time was frozen, the wait felt like an eternity. Ah how much you wish to be in the comfort of your soft, fluffy bed right now. Though, merely visualizing the image only reminded how achingly freezing it was so you decided it was best to spare yourself from the details.

"I can't do this anymore..." leaning your head against the ice covered cavern, you whimpered, "I should have stayed home."

As you were about to shut your eyelids, something flashed by your peripheral vision. You darted towards the direction it came from, the light was a bright green hue against blue, could it be, "Warmth!"

It seems you jumped to conclusions too quickly. With impatience, you swung around the corner, expecting to find a heat source, only to meet something much more horrifying.

"KYAH!"

They stared straight into your eyes, those demonic eyes tainted by black and fangs that stuck out of the mouth like tusks on an elephant.

However, when the light evaporated you were able to have a better sense of sight, slowly revealing the monster's true form and the body of a human boy. He fell onto his back with a thud and you used this chance to calm yourself from the frightful encounter.

"He's...unconscious?"

You meekly crawled to where he lay and examined closely. Aside from the mask, there were various distinct features that stood out in his attire, his tattoo being one of them, imprinted in what looked like an eagle. You then realized how unsuitable his clothes were in this current situation. At least there were no injuries so far. But was that a good thing? This man practically came out of thin air as if some sorcery had been committed. Witches never left a good impression ever since they cursed your chicken coop. You were hesitant whether to help a stranger who could potentially be one of them or a creation they cultivated. What other explanation could there be?

"I can't leave him here, it's too cold."

Your gaze suddenly falls upon his covered face. The design, although intimidating at first, upon closer look was very alluring in it’s own way. You haven't stumbled upon anything like what the merchants had to offer in Pelican Town and the mask almost looked too foreign. Was he from the east? Curiosity eventually takes over and you gingerly reach for the mask, sliding it off his face.

"Eh...?" You gasp, taken aback by his striking appearance. A part of it made you feel this was no ordinary boy but that didn't mean he should be abandoned in this environment. It would be immoral to let him die in a place like this.

Before you could even make a noise, his eyes bursted awake, grabbing your wrist in a harsh grip. He used his other hand to push against your shoulder until you were instantly pinned on your back with no opening to escape. You choked a sharp sound as you stared with wide eyes. The man was akin to a beast, he had the expression to match it, like the glaring sharp gaze of wolves that roam at the mountain cliffside near Zuzu city and the ferocity of the demonic mask he once wore. You were breath taken but in a more fearful way as he continued to grip onto you tighter with the possible intent to harm.

"Speak!” He demanded, “What have you done to my powers and where have you brought me?"

In Xiao’s case, he was thrown into another world under the circumstances of fighting against one of Liyue’s unknown beasts. He was on high alert, thinking the fight was still ongoing.

You may look human but you could still be a threat. Xiao is the type to act upon instinct in the moment when something feels out of place. Like the spear he wields, he was trained to behave like one: to strike, strike down his foes without hesitation. Don't leave an opening for them to take the advantage. Xiao is a weapon and violence was what he knew best. He couldn't afford to lower his guard even for a minute.

You could say he left a pretty strong first impression to the point you were paralyzed. As he looked at your face, petrified and tense, he wavered and began to reevaluate things. Large doe-like eyes stare into his feline ones. They didn't seem to hold any sort of malice, was it possible for you to be the one who cursed him?

"Eeeeeek! I-I have no idea what you're talking about, let me go let me go!" you cried, "Please don't hurt me!"

Perhaps he shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.

Xiao feels your struggle and eventually gets off to give you some space. Your reaction was understandable, he was used to it anyways. Xiao scoffed to himself, why are mortals so weak? Their strength, if compared to the adepti, was separated by a large gap (Like it always should be). Xiao kept his gaze averted to the side as you rubbed your wrist, focusing his attention elsewhere. He glanced at the vastness of the cave in front of him.

Why was he sent here? For what reason did it serve? Ever since he sealed the contract with Rex Lapis, the guardian Yaksha had never entertained the thought of leaving his country nor did he act upon it; he was far too loyal to his god to do so. But here he was, against his own will yet free from his karmic binds, stripped of his divine powers in the return of endless questions about this new found mortal-like form.

What should I do now?

Choosing not to dwell in any longer, Xiao rises to his feet and proceeds to walk the other way.

"Ah u-uhm sir, where are you going?"

If the universe wanted to test him then he'll find his own answers.

"Wait! Please wait up!"

"Tch."

Although he intended to keep going, Xiao heard you running to his direction and slowed to a halt, some mortals surely do not know their boundaries, "Hmph there's nothing timid about you. Leave me be," he demands without turning around, "Don't forget what I'm capable of."

Stay away.

"I-I know that," you retaliate weakly. Just by hearing his tone made you want to melt away and become one with the ice. He was a scary man indeed, the same one who attacked you earlier. But even so, "That doesn't mean I want you dead! If you go that way, you might freeze to death. Aren't you cold? You don't even have a coat on."

"..." Upon the mention of his predicament, his senses started to kick in. As a yaksha, Xiao wasn't able to be affected by temperature but now he felt his hands beginning to sting, trembling from it’s impact. Ah, so this is what it feels like to be cold. Still Xiao was stubborn and continued to push you away, "What happens to me has nothing to do with you. Now leave, or else."

"I-I can't do that!"

Xiao clicks his tongue in frustration. How annoying. This is why he dislikes meddling with meddlesome humans. But quite frankly, he wasn't sure how to handle your type of forwardness since most tend to back away. And so, Xiao does what he usually does, he ignores you and continues walking, eventually you'll give up on him anyway. However he hears a loud thump and whips around to see your body laying in the snow. The hours of travelling in the cave have seemed to caught up that you inevitably collapsed from exhaustion.

Knitting his evergreen brows together, Xiao lets out an irritable sigh.

...

You wake up to find the sky above your head and your coat draped over your shoulders like a blanket. Dawn was slowly rising above the distance valley, you figured it was around 4a.m in the morning. Rubbing your eyes, you eventually noticed a figure sitting across, admiring the sunrise.

"Ah it's you!"

Xiao jolts ever so slightly, peeking over his bare shoulders until you could see the sun's light casted against his golden irises. Did he stay here while you were asleep? Then, that would also mean he was also the one who carried you all the way up from sixty floors below.

“You're awake,” he noted flatly, “If that's the case, then I have no reason to stay here."

Of course, that wouldn't be the last time you saw him.

You were a tenacious human being, always so insistent in dragging him away from his lonesome personality. He resides in the forest and camps there for the time being (similar to Linus since they’re both homeless lol). But you’d always run in, DAILY and sometimes for the most stupid and mundane reasons. It could either be giving him the snacks you snatched off the table since Xiao refused to participate in parties, or fancy seashells you found on the beach. You didn’t want him to miss out on all those things of course! Although he responds with irritation, it was as if his words went through your ear and then out the other. His efforts were futile (however, he was slowly warming up without realizing).

He learns how easily his body reacts in the presence of food purely because he was hungry. You bring an extra set of blankets and pillows to his campsite when the ones you gave him wore out (he didn’t ask by the way). Xiao needed help whether he liked it or not since he no longer has his powers, hence he couldn't run away. He somehow ends up moving in to live on the small islands near your farm.

Xiao doesn't understand humans very much. Just as he was unable to understand how human emotions work. He was the almighty yaksha, Adeptus Xiao and a formidable beast that killed thousands in thousands of years, at least that's what he used to be. Even now he still has yet to figure out what he was or who he was exactly without a weapon to define his existence. He was made for battle but nowadays, he found himself watering plants, chopping down trees and throwing seeds to the chickens living in your coop. How did everything escalate to this? It baffles him, how much his life changed so drastically.

Haha, you’re Xiao of course! The greatest farming assistant I could ever have.

But above all else, the one thing Xiao couldn't understand among those universal questions, is you.

"Why are you doing all this?" Finally he asked. The urging thought had been persisting at the back of his mind ever since.

You stopped on your tracks and turned to look at him, tilting your head with a complexion made curious, "What do you mean? Ah, did I do something to bother you?"

"I didn't say that," Xiao interrupts abruptly, he folded his arms across his chest and shot you a deep contemplating gaze, " You're...incomprehensible. All I did was drag you out of that cave yet why are you so kind to me? Don't you think you're extending yourself too much just because of one little deed?"

Because to him, saving a life was the norm. He does it unconditionally just like you helped him with those same intentions. Except, Xiao had been pursuing corrupted souls behind the scenes all this time and expected nothing in return. Experiencing someone's gratitude was rather new.

You shook your head, "It wasn't small to me," a satisfactory smile melting onto your face, "I'm here at this very moment, feeling the wind against my skin and smelling the scent that nature carries, these are just the few things I cherish. It's thanks to you that I can still watch over grandpa's farm, that's why I don't feel like I'm overextending myself in any way," suddenly you beam at him, "At first I thought you were a scary person. Haha. Time flies so fast, it's amazing how much can happen in between."

"Hn, you're a simpleton. But that's not a bad thing..." he points out curtly yet softly, "Do as you wish, I won't stop you so feel free to call my name whenever you need my help. I'll be there."

Xiao also finds you to be very clumsy. He couldn't leave your side even for a minute. But that was a lie. He just grew very attached to you.

When you tell him that you've been going into the mines for a quest, he tells you that you're far from capable. So he teaches you how to wield a weapon properly. Xiao was a strict teacher and he intends to keep it that way, he wouldn’t even allow you to set foot in the mines until he finds you capable enough.

You were a meek yet optimistic person, yet you were also strong-willed.

For a place that wasn't his home, he felt it was. And he found that it was all in your presence. Those peaceful hours hiding inside the barn while a storm rages outside, you sit beside him while hugging a sheep close to your chest. Xiao learns how to feed some of them, he even brings seeds for your hen house too. If you were ever short on materials, Xiao would travel to the enchanted forest behind the wizard's tower and get them for you, no matter how late it was. Though if you went by yourself, he'd deliberately go with you despite your protest.

The minute Xiao realized how much he was attached to you, it was devastating. As if the claws of his karmic debt had come back, pulling him into the shadows once more. He was an adeptus with a contract and bound by his duty, he must choose between his god who saved him from a nightmare and you, the girl he fell for, showed him that the world was indeed a beautiful place, he was stuck in an equilibrium and he felt that the binds may even tear him apart if he kept resisting.

But when did he ever have a choice?

"Where are you going Xiao?"

When he heard your voice calling his name, the yaksha willingly pulled himself to a halt. His sunset eyes narrowing from guilt before it shuts with a trembling sigh out of his mouth. Why is it that you always appear during the moments where he desperately needs to get away from you? He planned to sneak out the door, making sure his footsteps were unheard while you slept. And by the time you woke up, he didn't have to face you, he wouldn't have to say goodbye. He won't. Even if what he was currently doing said otherwise. He will never hear himself say those words.

"Xiao?"

Yet, he cannot refuse you. Not now, not ever. You were breathtaken to see a type of expression that you never thought was possible for him to make. The creases that once formed between his slender brows, the heaviness he always carried in his expression was replaced by a sense of sentimentality. Before you could register what was happening, Xiao took his step towards the porch of your house, not once did he tear away from your attention. He slides his hand beneath your jaw and affectionately against your cheek, the fondness evident in his gaze that you almost felt imprisoned by it.

"You never fail to appear in the most inconvenient of times," He gives a weak smile, a smile that makes your heart swell. Despite how much you could drown in his honesty, you couldn’t help but feel there was something wrong, “No matter how many times I’ve tried to push you away.”

You don't know him. You don't know his history and what things he committed in the past. But as if you've known this whole time, Xiao couldn't picture you leaving him for those reasons.

“You’re gentle but you don’t let others put you down. You’re kind but you don’t allow it to be your weakness. I sometimes wonder how it is possible for anyone to be so forgiving?”

"I-I don’t understand why you’re this Xiao. Is something happening?”

He won’t tell you. He doesn’t see the reason why you need to know.

You wince when something poked the side of your neck and you realized it was a tranquilizer. You looked at Xiao with dismay, his face becoming hazier until your vision darkened and could no longer hold your own weight. Xiao caught you around the waist with one arm as you fell unconscious.

"How can you be so stupid...?"

But he speaks as if those words were meant for him.

Pulling your body closer to him, Xiao chains you down into a desperate embrace. A silent scream of desperation. His forehead pressed against the bent of your shoulder and the other arm rested his hand at the center of your back. He will relish in the shape of your body, memorizing every curve both perfections and flaws. The way you fit into his arms and the pleasant smell of nature that you taught him to love, this was the only remnant he was allowed to take. Every detail, he will remember it as if clinging to the last moments of his whole world.

If he was allowed to have a desire, let him meet you again. He prayed to a god, any god-- even if it meant damaging his oath, he will accept his punishment. He prayed to each star in the sky and if he must he'll pray to the devil himself, whatever it is, he will do it for you.

As he painfully lets go, Xiao lets his hand slide off your body until the last thing he felt was the very tips of your fingers. He settles you down gently into your bed. You belong here in this peaceful world, not the one riddled with monsters.

---

~Zhongli's Story~

The Skull Cavern was considered to be the most dangerous mine of Stardew Valley. It wasn't your intention to run into any trouble, all you wanted was to test your cool new galaxy sword on some easy monsters and then be on your merry way. At first.

Just one more floor. You say, before catching an arm sticking out a pile of rocks.

"I-Is that a person?!!!"

You dug as fast as you could, any time soon the mummies would wake up and start attacking. Quick quick! Moving the last rock, you saw the face of a young man, he was asleep but alive! and undeniably attractive oh wow *lip bite*. But despite your attempts of shaking him awake, it was fruitless and the monsters weren't waiting.

Taking out two warp totems, you raised it to the ceiling and chanted a teleportation spell.

It wasn't everyday that you brought a man to your house.

But when you did, he wouldn't be from a cave, six floors down and buried in a place filled with monsters.

"And this small black device you say is some form of communicator? That certainly is intriguing, never in my years have I heard of something so advanced."

However you were beginning to think otherwise. That this man would have been from the prehistoric ages who you managed to unbury after his thousand year slumber. Zhongli sits on the couch across from you while examining your smartphone, a term he claimed had been completely foreign. You were contemplating whether you should bother Harvey despite being past his work hour and book an emergency appointment to see if this man had a special case of amnesia.

You brushed the idea away. There was so much going on and nothing made sense, for now, you decided to settle this on your own.

"Uhm Zhongli is it?" you asked nervously, "Maybe you can try giving the name of a relative or someone you know. I can use the phonebook to see if I can find their number."

“Number?” He parroted.

You blinked a few times, making sure if you heard him correctly, “Yes, number. You know? To communicate?”

"I appreciate your kind gesture," Zhongli acknowledges in a polite manner, "But that won't be necessary. This device doesn’t seem to be at a level where it can communicate with the people from my homeland."

If he was travelling then how the hell did he end up in THE Skull Cavern is what I wanna know!

“T-Then if you don't mind me asking, where are you from?"

Zhongli takes this moment to think of an answer, aware that if he blurted something out it would not have translated in the way he wanted. But you so kindly invited him to your humble household that he felt it would only be proper to owe you an explanation, "I suppose a land from afar."

You sweatdropped, "Suppose?"

"Yes. Although I won't spare you the details since this is not your burden to bear, it’s quite difficult for me to try and remember exactly what happened," Zhongli took his chin into his hand, fingers almost covering his mouth, "Perhaps I would need search for clues in order to refresh my memory."

Oh no he really does have amnesia!!

"A-Actually why don't I just call the local doctor, I'm sure he wouldn't mind giving you a hand," you say while taking your iPhone.

"A doctor? There's no need," dismissed Zhongli, "My condition is only a minor one and I do not think I'm in a position to afford medical assistance. Besides, you have done more than enough. May you find great fortune in your years Miss (Y/n), I shall be on my way."

He pushes himself up from the couch and you watch him cross towards the door. But just when he was about to reach the space of your carpet, Zhongli pulled to an abrupt stop.

"Ah yes,” He began as if remembering something, “ Do you happen to know where the nearest Inn is located? I would need to find a place to shelter for the time being."

"..."

This was how the former god ended up being your roommate. Like Xiao, Zhongli also takes upon a human form. He needed to eat, drink and a place to sleep. He insisted that he would take the couch as well as help you with any tasks that needed to be completed during the day.

You question if Zhongli was even aware of what situation he was currently in. Answer: HE WASN'T because Zhongli is an extremely dense man. To feel embarrassed was not part of his dictionary when living with a woman.

The type to take long showers. You always find the bathroom steaming because he doesn't turn on the fan to get rid of it (but maybe you should've taught him). So when it was your turn to use the shower, the water was either lukewarm or worst case scenario, cold.

Also he somehow finds your old kettle (that your grandfather used) to brew tea even though you told him you already had a water boiler. He stated that he liked doing things the old-fashioned way, it brings him a sense of nostalgia. You couldn't understand what he meant (unless you considered that he was older than he seemed....no that can’t be it!)

Despite it all, Zhongli was incredibly polite and considerate. Tending the farm was not an easy job and you often came home with sore muscles, fatigued from running so many errands. He's knowledgeable in terms of making the best herbal mix for a soothing remedy.

You would see a warm cup, every morning before going to work and every time you come home, it was sitting on the kitchen table (if his drink had potion effects, they would be regeneration).

Gentle he was but it wasn't good for your heart.

Ever since Zhongli moved in, it became difficult to live in your own house.

There were many situations where he caused trouble despite not intending to cause disruption to your daily routine. And when he did, the repairs came out of your own pocket. One time you opened your microwave to find thick ash and burnt cinders stuck upon the walls.The entire space was a hazard and needed to be dispensed immediately since Zhongli thought that plastic-wrapped items were allowed to be microwaved. Another incident, as bizarre as it sounded, was when your vacuum cleaner zoomed out of your house...and never came back. You remembered the awkward cough he gave when you shot him a deathly glare, hence why Zhongli was not allowed to touch your high-tech devices (if you considered them high-tech) without your permission.

Even so, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. It was the opposite in fact. One day, all the flaws you counted suddenly became his charms. You came to find them endearing almost.

Zhongli was a handsome man. He carried himself with a distinct aura that could only be found in the rarest geodes; revealing orestones mined from the depths of a forgotten cave, sometimes in the shape of exquisite artifacts-- a type of ancient charm. Perhaps that was why people were willing to obey his every command without hesitation. Whenever Zhongli spoke, it was full of firmness and authority yet somehow deprived of arrogance. He was polite to all and does not indulge in conflict despite how tempting gossip can be in modern society. Always patient during your temperamental moments and considerate to the point you wonder if he even had any desires. He was so kind that soon enough, you couldn't help but be flustered by his presence. Forget about having a conversation, maintaining his leveled gaze was already enough of a challenge. Like staring into the sun after the morning dew. So gentle and so very comforting. But the more you linger onto the sun, it's rays will continue to set ablaze, eventually bringing you pain.

And you feared that you have grown addicted to those feelings.

Why can't he understand?

Stopping at the center of the bridge, you kept your head low while letting the anger take form into your tightened fists. The town was empty with only the sound of water flowing beneath your feet, filling the heavy air. They rippled and swayed, peaceful amongst your inner turmoil. The fact that such a miniscule attribute was able to make your blood rise was hilariously pitiful. How did you stoop to a point that even nature, the very being you've tended for a living, could bring you bitterness? Were your feelings this uncontrollable? The answer was obvious. It spiraled, violently and mercilessly as if commanded by another. There was a wave of emotions filling your heart and you could almost feel yourself drowning from the inside. If only they were as tranquil as the ones you stood upon.

"I thought I would find you here."

The voice you dreaded calls from across and you fight to keep yourself from gasping. Oblivious to it all, Zhongli proceeds to close the distance until he towered over you, looking down to your bowed head, "When you hadn't returned home without a notice, I was getting worried if something had happened. But I'm glad that wasn't the case."

Your whole face clenches.

"Is something bothering you? If you would like, we can discuss it after eating dinner. Come, I have already prepared our meal while you were gone as well as turning off the rice cooker once finished. I hope it can ease your stress since I know it can be difficult maintaining a farm like this."

"Zhongli."

He blinks hard when the sound of his name falls out of your lips. Zhongli was an experienced observer and listener, he was able to catch the glimpse of frustration that dripped from the tone you used. Relaxing his poised shoulders, Zhongli carefully asked in a reserved manner, "Have I...done something to make you upset?"

A trembled breath escaped when you breathed out. Dense. He was so dense that sometimes it made you want to crack him open.

"Tell me..." you began, "Are you also like this with other women?"

The former god sets a brief sharp pause, "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm talking about the way you act, they're...giving me all these mixed signals. We've been living together for months, we even share meals together! And sometimes you would help me with the farm and when I didn't ask, you still insisted on tending to my needs when I felt sick. I just…” you trailed off, trembling ever so slightly, "It's all perfectly normal. You’re nice to everyone. I know that. I know that!"

"(Y/n)," Zhongli whispered. They sounded like a thousand needles to your heart.

"I doubt you have the intention to put me in this situation. You're a really great person Zhongli but I sometimes can't help feeling this isn't just some roommate thing you know?" closing your eyes, you thought of your past relationships, how they started and ended, "Do any of your actions mean anything to you? Do you know how it makes me feel? Or am I just overthinking this, that it was all one-sided this whole time?"

Alas the truth spills and the air stills, bringing the waves to a halt. Peace, tranquility, nothingness. That was all you wanted. That was all you heard. It was deafening.

"I see, so that's why," Zhongli mutters to himself with eyes narrowed, "There's...something I need to confess."

After several months, he tells you everything. How his memories returned, some of them were already intact. He told you about his homeland and his true identity, that he was a god that once ruled over Liyue for six centuries before giving away the gnosis.

The reason why he hadn't said anything until now was because there will be a day where Zhongli must depart and return to Teyvat. He was a god with a contract, the circumstance didn't matter, he must stay with it until the very end of time.

Through his years, Zhongli learned to cherish his finite moments. He didn't want to taint them with troubles to come. Thinking too far ahead into the future would only bring strain.

But what he didn't tell you was his true feelings. You were a sweet woman, tender and enthusiastic about agriculture, the way your feelings extend to the earth with grace whereas many others chose to trample over without hesitation, he fell deeply in love with that side of yours. You taught him many things and showed him many sides of humanity that he had never seen before. He even discovered an aspect of himself. Like breaking a geode, revealing the beauties held inside.

Zhongli couldn't look you in the eye when your expression was covered in disbelief. He thought he hid his feelings well but it seemed that he was expressing his love in subtle and subconscious ways that eventually drove you to fall for him as well. You didn't stop him when he left the bridge. He wasn't even in your house. He chose this, he chose to set you free from his heavy presence.

And as the weight started to lift from your shoulder, you sank to your knees and wept. It was cruel of him. To give you these emotions yet he could not bring himself to stay by your side. But your heart would not allow you to hate the man you love.

Things couldn't end this way. You had to say goodbye to him, see him one last time because if you didn't, these burdens will haunt you forever.

When Zhongli looked up to the sky he saw his ending drawing near.

Three days had passed since he last spoke with you and he had no plans in seeing you again. Soon, the former god will return to his rightful place. Even though he had already given his gnosis to the Cryo Archon as Liyue already began to enter a new era, it seems that his decisions weren't his to make as he was born in a world where stars ruled above the archons. Fate-- they won't allow it. He does not belong here. If there was one thing Zhongli regretted during his time in your world, it was that he couldn't leave you a good memory before taking his departure. The sight of your large glassy eyes and quivering lips when he crushed you with the truth, he sincerely believed that they would haunt him much more than it probably did to you. But perhaps things would be easier if you despised him. Because if he had stayed and you came to forgive him, he would no longer have the strength to let go.

Despite it all love was indeed a selfish creature. He couldn't help but feel resentment towards the stars for bringing you into his life in such a mockingly sweet manner. They tied him with a contract, made him vow to his own beliefs and tested them by using you-- a bystander struck between the crossfire, eventually bringing you down into the depths of his battlefield and he thought that maybe...maybe there was hope that he could bring you with him as well.

How disgraceful for a god to let the devil tempt him so.

Zhongli was thankful that you weren't beside him. Otherwise he would dance with the ugly hope of a slim chance for you to come along. This was the best choice. It was for his-- your own good.

"Zhongli!"

The arch of his lined eyes shot upwards. As if fate had decided to give him one final test, he felt your small figure crash into him from behind and your arms coming to hug around his waist, tightly and fearfully that he felt like you would be the one who would slip away instead.

"I...I made it time," you panted, burying your nose into his clothed back, "I’m so glad...I'm so glad you're still here…!"

Your cry of relief was a thunder to his ears, a reminder that he was the main cause. Zhongli, casted by solemn smile, lifts his hand to cover over yours and grasped onto them, I'm here, he wishes to say. Yet he knew they were only temporary promises, "To come all this way despite everything that has happened. You foolish girl..."

"It's your fault Zhongli, I'm a fool because I love you! It's all your fault that I have to say goodbye," You grit your teeth as the tears fell down your face until it blended into his clothes, "Take me with you. Please. Don't leave me all alone…!"

The words he wanted to say melted into a silent gasp through parted lips. Zhongli merely clenched them back together and his hand on your hand, even tighter. He won't lie to you. At the very least, let his actions speak for him where he himself could not.

Take me with you.

Don't leave me alone.

Goodbye.

If it is fated Morax...we will meet again.

"I see," letting his thoughts echo in his mind from the distant memories, the former god begins to take a new perspective upon his wisdom, "For many years, I have experienced countless farewells from the people I've come to known," Zhongli reminisced, tilting his head back with his golden eyes against night, as if searching for some sort of answer, "And yet I never thought what it must have felt like being in their position."

"Zhongli…" you trailed off, "Then don't! I may not know everything about you but it doesn't have to be this way. At least, just answer me this, will I ever see you again?"

"I'm sorry (Y/n)," he apologized and you knew the answer. He gently pries your arms off him, turning around so he could swipe the corner of your eyes dry. There was a glowing reverence in his countenance, one that he reserved for you and only you, it was the only way for him to express the feelings that run deep in his heart, "I cannot thank you enough for coming into my life. If there will be a day when I erode from your memories, I truly hope that you will find someone more suitable than I."

"That's ridiculous," defiantly, refusedly, you protest, "No one can replace you."

Zhongli laughs sadly as the white halo outlines his whole figure, signaling that there wasn't much time left. He wonders if there was anything he could do in his last moments, a small token, something, it could even be as small as a single star in the sky, "If it is fated...we will meet again."

You watch him turn transparent until he slipped from your grasp. No longer was the man, only the dust being one with the sky. They shone brilliantly but you were left in the darkness.

#genshin impact #stardew valley #zhongli #xiao #childe #childe x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #alatus nemeseos #genshin impact au #genshin au #stardew valley au #this doesn't feel like stardew valley anymore lolol #got a little too carried away with zhongli #nya-writes

[jingabitch]

To Love an Empress

SUMMARY: Despite the acrimonious beginning to your relationship, Yoongi is drawn to you.

PAIRING: emperor!yoongi x empress!reader

RATING: E

WARNINGS: smut | unprotected sex (they’re husband and wife and also this is a historical au so there are no condoms but be safe okay) | references to war | yoongi’s scar is discussed | yoongi kills a man (mentioned but not explicit) | secret admirer stuff

WORD COUNT: 9.8k

A/N: My final submission for the BTS Ghostie bingo, yay! This one fills the secret admirer tile. This fic is kind of based on Henry VII and Elizabeth of York’s early relationship, and inspired by The White Princess, so if some of the dialogue and scenes are similar, that’s why. 

Shoutout to my lovely betas @knjkitten and @yoongs-jeontae for helping me beta this! Banner by @jkeuphoriadreamland​ 💕 i’ve never had a banner on a fic before this is fun hehe

Min Yoongi was a hard man, and he knew it. He’d won his throne on the battlefield, running his sword through the old king and crowning himself right there on the blood-stained grass.

You knew it too, could never forget it when you looked at your husband. The scar on his face from an injury he’d sustained during the decisive battle for his crown; the memory of how coldly he’d treated you at the beginning; the baby growing inside you as a result of Yoongi’s insistence that you demonstrate your ability to provide him with heirs before he would marry you. As if he’d had a choice, when your bloodline was the cornerstone of his legitimacy.

After all the angry words and hostility between the two of you, he knew there was no chance you would forgive him. And yet, a part of him craved it. He saw the kindness you lavished on your ladies-in-waiting, the servants, and all the children running around the palace who were sons and daughters of the nobles and the army of servants working here. Was it so wrong of him to want just a little of that for himself? You were his wife, after all.

Yoongi was a warrior. He’d trained all his life to take control of the kingdom. War was all he knew.

Which made him, unfortunately, woefully inept when it came to wooing a lady, especially one so resistant to him. He’d relied on his looks before, but now that he had the scar on his face, it seemed that even that tool was no longer at his disposal. God knows you hated it.

With no one else to turn to, he asked his eunuch what he should do. At first, the portly man just blinked at him, confused. “She’s your wife, you don’t have to persuade her to warm your bed,” he pointed out.

Yoongi grimaced. “I know that,” he grumbled. “I want her to like me.”

Sambo snorted. “Should have thought about that before you made her ‘prove her fertility’ to you.”

Sulking, Yoongi got up and stormed away from his eunuch. Obviously, he knew that, and he wished that no one else did. It wasn’t like him to force a lady like that, but tensions had been running high at the time and he hadn’t trusted a woman from the house of L/n. You must have run to your lady-in-waiting and cried to her when it was over, because Sambo had gotten quite the shelling from her the next day.

Sambo, who’d quickly grown used to the antics of his master, just hurried along beside Yoongi. “Just give her something pretty,” he advised. “Women like that.”

Yoongi stopped short. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “That’s a great idea,” he enthused. “You’re useful for once, Sambo,” he praised his eunuch.

Sambo rolled his eyes to hide his pleased smile. “You’d think a grown man would know something like that,” he jibed. “Taking love advice from someone who can’t even perform must be a new low for you.”

“Whatever.” Yoongi waved off the insult. “I’ll get her a nice hairpin,” he decided. “But don’t tell her it’s from me.” He didn’t want you throwing it out in disgust.

“She’s obviously going to know,” Sambo pointed out. “There is no man in Joseon suicidal enough to woo the empress. That’s treason.”

Frowning, Yoongi snapped, “Just do it,” before stalking back into his room with a huff and shutting the door in Sambo’s face. The eunuch really didn’t need to rain on his parade like that, even if he was probably right. Hopefully you wouldn’t immediately come to the conclusion that it was him. It wasn’t just that he was afraid you’d throw out a gift from him—he wanted to make you smile. Not because you were bound to him and might as well exhibit some fondness towards your husband, but because he was really, truly capable of making you happy.

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

Pregnancy had been difficult for you so far. Without your mother around, you were left to go through it by yourself. At least Ling, your personal servant-turned-lady-in-waiting, was here with you. You’d been together since you were a child and she was a young teen, and she was like a sister to you.

The morning sickness was starting to fade, thankfully, but you still got nauseous sometimes, so Ling suggested that you have your breakfast in the courtyard to enjoy some fresh air and sunshine while the cleaners dusted and polished your quarters.

When you finally got back to your room after being bullied by Ling into taking a little walk – exercise was good for the baby, she insisted – there was a hairpin lying on your table, next to the novel you’d been reading. Curiously, you knelt down to pick it up.

“What’s this?” you asked Ling, who was trailing a few steps behind you.

“It’s a hairpin, milady,” she responded somewhat cluelessly.

“Yes,” you said patiently, “but why is it here? I’ve never seen this before.” Looking more closely at it, you turned it over a few times in your hand. It truly was pretty, a delicate gold phoenix carved into the end of the pin, decorated with pink flowers and milky jade balls around the base of the phoenix.

Sitting down on the other side of the table, Ling pulled your hand holding the pin closer to her so she could examine it too. “I don’t know, but it’s so pretty,” she sighed. “Maybe you have a secret admirer,” she giggled.

“Yes, the pregnant empress has a secret admirer,” you said drolly. Everything about your existence, from the gilded cage you were trapped in, to your marriage to the most powerful man in Joseon, to the heir you were carrying in you, screamed that you were taken, owned by a man. And not just any man, of course, but the one whose wife was strictly, on pain of death, off-limits.

“Well, you never know,” Ling said lightly. “Just take it for what it is,” she advised. “Someone wants to make you happy!”

“All right,” you accepted skeptically, but you couldn’t quite stop the smile from stealing across your face. After living as a political pawn for so many years because of your family and giving up everything for the man who’d killed your uncle, it did feel nice to think that there was someone out there who liked you for you.

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

You weren’t stupid, of course. You had considered that it was your husband who’d had the pin sent to you. It made sense, after all – he was the only man in the whole of Joseon who could do something like that. It didn’t take long for you to disabuse yourself of that notion, however. Yoongi hated you, considered you the snake in his midst. Taking a L/n bride after defeating the House of L/n was the last thing he’d wanted to do, and he’d made that abundantly clear when you met. Hell, even before that, when he’d sent a platoon to your residence in the countryside to retrieve you.

Your first interaction with the new emperor had gone woefully poorly, with cruel words said on both sides.

As angry and resentful as you were about being claimed as his wife, you weren’t in any mood to be supplicant to the new emperor. When they brought you to meet him, in an admittedly charming gazebo, you knelt without bowing or greeting him, refusing to even look straight at him.

“Are you just going to sulk, then?” he drawled, and you barely resisted the urge to strangle him with your bare hands.

“We’ve done nothing right; surely you aren’t insisting that we follow tradition now?” you replied, your light tone doing little to hide your displeasure. This was all wrong, you knew. Despite Ling hovering just out of earshot keeping a watchful eye on things, you knew that your reputation was at stake simply from meeting the emperor alone before you were married.

It was unusual for you to enter the palace knowing that you were to be the empress, too. Usually the empress dowager chose her son’s bride, based on a series of tests that demonstrated her suitability for the throne. But, you knew, you were already the best candidate, purely based on your bloodlines.

Yoongi leaned forward, steepling his fingers in front of him. “Of course not,” he said, and his low, dangerous voice caused your breath to catch as you jerked your head forward to look at him properly for the first time. You couldn’t help but gasp at the long scab slicing through his eye. Catching you staring at it, he smiled bitterly.

“Are you afraid of your fiancé?” he asked.

“Of course not,” you hissed. “Just horrified that I have to lie with a disfigured monster.”

You remembered the way he’d jerked back, as if scalded. Okay, so you weren’t blameless in the current state of affairs you found yourself in, this hateful sham of a marriage that neither of you enjoyed. Still, given the acrimonious relationship you had with your husband, it seemed less than likely that he was your secret admirer.

“Poor, pitiful L/n Y/n,” he responded coldly. “Why don’t we get it over with, then?”

“What?!” you gasped, your hand flying to your mouth.

He smiled at you coldly. “I will not repeat the mistakes of previous emperors,” he informed you, and your lips pursed in displeasure, recognizing his comment for the jibe that it was – most of the previous emperors in the history of the kingdom had been your ancestors. “Having no legitimate heir is a recipe for disaster.”

Despite your best attempts to avoid giving him the satisfaction of your reaction, you couldn’t hold back the blanch. Smirking in satisfaction at having gotten back at you for the cruel insult, he continued, “We will be wed only when you are pregnant.”

Really, after all was said and done, it was no wonder that you and your husband despised each other.

Still, maybe there was a part of you that wished the pin had come from him. It wasn’t that you were in love with Yoongi or something insipid like that, it was just… you were kind of lonely here in the palace, with hardly anyone you knew around. The only person you’d been allowed to bring with you was Ling, because she’d been your servant for so long.

It would be nice to feel, just once more in your life, like you had a friend around you.

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

As your pregnancy progressed, you grew increasingly miserable and annoyed, and your secret admirer stepped up his efforts to cheer you up. From pretty flowers on your pillow to new books when you finished your existing ones, even pretty ribbons and once, a bag of a rare tea that was supposed to alleviate morning sickness, this mysterious individual was showing you more care than your own husband.

You rarely saw Yoongi these days, since he was usually busy in the throne hall, setting the country back to rights. Being a woman, you never got to attend the morning meetings and reading of the petitions, but from what you heard, Yoongi wasn’t the most competent politician. It frustrated you to no end – you were the daughter and niece of the past two emperors, had grown up learning about politics, history and economics, and yet your role was basically being a baby incubator while your inexperienced husband was led down all sorts of rabbit holes as the ministers tried to take advantage of the situation to fatten their own coffers.

The last straw came when you heard of a proposed tax increase for the peasants, purportedly to shore up the kingdom’s defenses. You knew Minister Su, who was in charge of defense, was greedy and corrupt, but very eloquent and had many supporters among the cabinet. Overcoming your own reluctance to speak to your husband directly, you stormed into his private quarters one evening, while he was relaxing with a drink.

“Get out,” you ordered his eunuch, who was kneeling by his side.

Sambo looked over at Yoongi, who nodded at him. Once the doors slid shut behind the eunuch, you knelt in front of your husband. Since you were about six months pregnant now, it was difficult for you to maneuver, but you managed. “I need to talk to you,” you told him.

“I gathered that,” he said dryly. “Could this not wait for a more appropriate audience?”

“No,” you rejected him flatly. “I heard that you’re considering a new tax on the peasants.”

“That’s none of your business.” He leaned back slightly and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You should reject the tax proposal, Your Grace,” you said quietly.

“I said, that’s none of your business,” he thundered, slamming his fist down on the table.

You winced, but continued, undeterred. “Minister Su does not have the best interests of the kingdom in mind, Your Grace. There was a bad harvest this year, and the people will not stand for a tax now, especially when they are already so tired of conflict.”

It seemed that bringing up the civil war that had just been fought between Yoongi and your uncle was a bad idea, as he looked even more furious. He sucked in a deep breath to yell at you, but you quickly continued, cutting him off before he could start.

“Your reign is still new, Your Grace, and the people are still unsure about you. Now is the time for generosity, so that they learn to love you.”

“Why does a L/n empress care about whether the people love me? You and your family hate me; you fought a war against me,” he scoffed, leaning back on his hands in a casual pose to show just how little he cared.

Bristling indignantly, you bit back, “You raised an army against my family! You are the usurper! Make no mistake of it, sir, I advise you not because of any attachment to you, but because I care about this kingdom.”

At that, some of the fire left him. “Everyone claims to care about the kingdom, but all they really care about is themselves. Do you think I don’t know that my ministers are watching me, waiting to take advantage? That people are plotting against me as we speak?”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s what it means to be the emperor. My father had the same thing, as did my uncle – from you.” Maybe goading him wasn’t the best thing to do right now, but you were pregnant, uncomfortable and irritated.

“Then how do I know that I can trust you?” he retorted, his frustration with the current situation bleeding through his voice.

You were going to murder this man, you swore. He wouldn’t need to wait for any plot coming from outside the palace walls. How could someone be capable enough to enact a coup against the emperor, and yet so frustratingly dim when it came to politics?

“Because my wagon is tied to yours, you idiot. I am your empress now before I am a L/n woman, and this child I carry inside me is a Min child. Do you think that if your rule fails, I can just go home, and all will be well for me? I will be executed together with you, and so will our child.”

That seemed to shut him up. “I’ll think about it,” he finally allowed grudgingly.

“Thank you,” you said, bowing with your forehead pressed to the back of your palms over the floor.

After you’d left, Yoongi thought about how that was the first time you’d bowed to him. It seemed there was much he didn’t know about his wife.

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

The next afternoon, you heard from Ling that the tax on the peasants had been rejected, and a jeweled comb was delivered to your room. This particular gift came directly from Sambo, so you knew that it was from Yoongi, and you accepted it for the apology that it was.

Two weeks later, proof of Minister Su’s corruption and embezzlement came to light, and he was sent into exile. You might have felt slightly smug about it, since you’d hated Minister Su ever since your own father was the emperor, but mostly you felt a little bad for Yoongi, having to deal with something like that so soon after coming to power.

That same night, Yoongi invited you to have dinner with him. Well, it was more like an order, because you weren’t in any position to turn down the emperor, but Ling was excited nonetheless as she got you ready, helping you into your pretty jeogori and braiding your hair into an elaborate bun.

“I’m so happy for you,” she gushed as she stood in front of you, tying the jeogori. “This could be the start of a new relationship between the two of you!”

“You know I can’t get more pregnant, right?” you asked drolly, raising a brow. In fact, you’d pretty much expected him to leave you alone for the rest of the pregnancy and only call on you once you were recovered enough to perform your conjugal duties once more.

“Oh, hush,” she giggled. “I’m sure he wants to see how you’re doing. You are carrying his heir, after all.”

“Sure, that’s me,” you muttered. “The incubator.”

“Be nice,” she admonished. “You want him to like you, so that he’ll give you more privileges. When your son becomes emperor, then you can swan around all day like the crone.” Suffice it to say, neither of you liked your mother-in-law that much.

“I know,” you sighed. “I’m just uncomfortable all the time.” Entering your third trimester of pregnancy, you were having trouble standing around and kneeling on the ground? Impossible. You’d had a table and chair moved into your room so that you could sit comfortably, but as far as you knew, Yoongi still sat on the ground for most of the day.

Ling didn’t know about your late-night meeting with the emperor a few weeks prior, but you wondered if this dinner had something to do with that.

In Yoongi’s room, something similar was happening, as Sambo fussed over his master’s robes.

“Sambo, enough,” Yoongi sighed. “I don’t have to look nice; she’s already my wife.”

Sambo scoffed. “I said the same thing to you about sending her those gifts, but you insisted then too.”

Yoongi glared at his eunuch without saying anything, mostly because he had no argument against that. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted the man; he’d done nothing but tease him about his crush since he found out.

Thankfully, your arrival cut Sambo’s fussing short – yet another thing he had to be grateful to you for, he supposed. It stung a little that his wife apparently knew more about politics than he did, but you seemed to want to help him, so there was that.

“Your Grace,” you greeted, bowing slightly.

“Good evening,” he responded. “Please, sit,” he invited, gesturing towards the table he had brought into his room just for this. He remembered how much you’d struggled with kneeling on the ground, and then getting up, the last time you’d come to visit him, and thought that this would make it easier for you.

You’d seen the table as soon as you entered the room, of course – it was kind of hard to miss, since the room was mostly empty. Accepting his offer with a gracious smile, you sat yourself down and clasped your hands together demurely in your lap. Yoongi sat across from you and nodded at the servant standing in the corner, and that was the signal for the food to start coming in.

To be honest, you’d expected to see Yoongi’s favourite dishes being served tonight, since everything at your wedding banquet had been his favourite foods, so you were pleasantly surprised to note that it was the food you’d been repeatedly requesting due to your cravings instead.

When the servants left, closing the doors after them, Yoongi spoke. “Please eat.” He gestured at the spread, and you acquiesced, picking up your chopsticks.

“Thank you for the advice,” he started.

The food you were holding with your chopsticks fell back onto your bowl of rice as your hand went limp in shock. “Wh-what?” Of all the things he could have said, that was the one you’d been expecting the least. In all honesty, you’d expected something more like admonishment for interfering – and a lack of other punishment that would serve as tacit acknowledgement that you’d been right. It was how your father had been with your mother.

To be fair, it looked like it was costing him dearly to thank you. “You were right about the tax,” he ground out.

“Oh…” You recovered quickly and nodded, graciously accepting his thanks.

“But don’t make a habit of interfering,” he continued. Right… so there was a catch, after all.

You rolled your eyes. “Of course not,” you said sarcastically. “I’m just the brainless baby incubator, after all. It’s not like I grew up here, or have any knowledge and experience of palace politics, or anything of the sort.”

“You’re a woman—” he thundered, slamming his chopsticks down on the table.

“I am your empress,” you cut him off. “You insisted on marrying me precisely because of my bloodline, so I will not be sidelined, especially when we both know you could use all the help you can get!”

“Help that I can get from my advisors,” he huffed.

“One of your ministers was literally just exiled for corruption, so I don’t know why you want to throw in your lot with them, but sure.” You rolled your eyes. “Now, if that was all, I think I can take my meal in my own quarters tonight.”

Unfortunately, your dramatic exit was foiled by how much you struggled to get out of your seat. Biting back his smile at how cute you looked with your belly, Yoongi leapt to your aid – you were, after all, still his wife and carrying his child, so it was the least he could do.

You pinned him with a glare as he got up to assist you, but were left with no choice but to accept, holding on to his proffered arm and letting him basically hoist you up. “If you need anything…” he started, looking slightly contrite.

“Don’t worry, Your Grace,” you said. “I might be ‘just a woman’ –” your tone made it clear that you were mocking him, and he had the grace to look slightly chagrined – “but I am the empress, and I am carrying the heir to Joseon, so I get everything I ask for.”

“Good, that’s good…” he looked slightly shifty now, and you couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. He’d been acting like a bit of a dick, but to be fair, you supposed, it wasn’t like his attitude was uncommon. With Ling’s reminder ringing in your ears, you took his hand and brought it to the swell of your belly. Your child was strong and healthy, and even through the layers of your clothes Yoongi could feel the flutter of kicks.

“Wow…” he looked entranced, and you couldn’t help but smile at him. Your child had been conceived in hatred and anger, but you were determined that you would not raise him in that environment. No, he would know only love. You were sure of it.

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

Even though the dinner hadn’t gone according to plan, it was still somewhat of a shift in your relationship with your husband. Now when your paths crossed, he smiled at you instead of just walking by stonily.

The gifts from your secret admirer continued too, which made things kind of confusing for you. On the one hand, you were trying to make this thing with your husband work, if only so that your child could grow up in a positive environment. It was difficult enough growing up in the palace, something you were keenly aware of.

And yet, the continued attention from this unknown person was starting to tug at your heartstrings. You hardly knew who it was but being shown kindness without any ulterior motive was certainly enough for you to think fondly of your secret admirer. He didn’t send gifts that often, usually once every other week or so, but each one brought a smile to your face. Sometimes it was your favourite flower, or a snack from another part of the world, or a cute trinket from the market, but all of them were equally dear to you.

The fluttering feeling that you got in your chest when you saw that he’d left you another gift was somewhat tempered by the guilt over the whole situation. Were you allowed to enjoy this attention? You looked furtively around, slightly worried that someone was going to knock the Japanese cakes out of your hand.

“You know,” Sambo said, standing next to Yoongi, who was peering at you from his hidden position behind a wall, “Some of your subjects might find it unseemly for their emperor to spend his days spying on his wife.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi grumbled, although the words had no heat to them, given how distracted he currently was. He hoped you liked the cakes.

“If you want to spend time with her, you can just ask, you know,” Sambo pointed out. “Haven’t you two been getting along better lately?”

“She still gets annoyed at me every time,” he sighed. “I don’t want to upset her, she looks miserable enough as is.”

Sambo, watching you rub the small of your back as Ling fussed over you, had to agree. At eight months pregnant, you looked fit to pop. “Well, she’ll give birth soon, and then things will be better,” he said, patting the emperor on the back. “You really need to be more discreet, though. She can tell it’s you from a mile away.”

Yoongi looked over at Sambo and scowled. “No way,” he denied.

“Really? So there are lots of men walking around decked out in the emperor’s robes, and have blonde hair, then?”

“Fine.” Yoongi sulked. “Let’s go, then.”

“You know you have a bunch of petitions to review, right?”

“I get it.”

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

To put it mildly, labour sucked. But at the end of it, you had a beautiful little boy, handed to you wrapped in a blanket. “Wow,” you marveled at your son, stroking his cheek with your thumb as you cuddled him close. Your own dear boy. Cradling him in your arms, it hardly mattered that he was a Min, that he represented the end of your house on the throne. Your son was all that mattered now.

Looking up, you saw Yoongi hovering by the entrance to the room, looking on hesitantly, as if he wasn’t sure if he would be welcome. The idea was laughable to you – he was the emperor, there was nowhere he couldn’t go. You remembered your own father striding around as if he owned the place, because he did. No matter how fond he’d been of your mother, it had always been clear in the way he acted that he knew he was the boss. At best, she was a favoured subordinate.

You could see some of that attitude in Yoongi, and you accepted it – that was how men were, after all. But sometimes, peeking through the haughty exterior, you caught glimpses of someone kind and considerate. Someone you could grow fond of.

“Come in and meet him,” you invited.

As he came closer, he breathed, “It’s a boy?” His voice was slightly choked.

Smiling, you nodded. He knelt next to you and peered into the blanket, staring down at his son for the first time. Then he turned his head slightly to regard you. “You look beautiful,” he complimented, and you looked up, surprised. You didn’t know exactly what you looked like, but you were sure you were a mess after labour and childbirth. Your hair was a matted, sweaty mess, and you were dressed simply, in a cotton underdress.

Still, from the way he watched you holding the baby, you could have been dressed in the most beautiful of clothes and jewels.

“Do you want to hold him?” you asked, and his eyes lit up.

“Can I?” he asked. You nodded, passing the little bundle over to him.

“My son,” he said softly, leaning his head down to get closer to the baby. “Min Man-bok.” The name had been chosen by the astrologers, who said it would bring him great fortune throughout his life. You hoped it was true. This boy would grow up to be the emperor that united the warring houses of Min and L/n, and finally put an end to all the senseless violence that had stolen the lives of your brothers, and later, your uncle.

As you watched them – your husband and your son – you felt a sense of contentment like you’d never known before. In that moment, it hardly mattered that they were the emperor and the crown prince, that the weight of the kingdom rested upon your baby’s tiny shoulders. For that brief window, they could just be… yours.

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

The birth of your son changed everything. The gifts that had once been so dear to you because they meant that someone was out there thinking of you now seemed almost uncomfortable, like unwanted attention that threatened the security of your family. You knew it was ridiculous – after all, the giver of said gifts had been quietly doing so for months, never trying to push his luck or making his identity known to you.

Still, though, as you became closer to your husband, that nagging feeling that you were doing something wrong wouldn’t leave you. Thankfully, the gifts seemed to dry up, and you wondered if your anonymous admirer was really that astute. Whoever he was, you owed him your gratitude. He’d known when to start, and, it seemed, just when to stop.

In actuality, Yoongi had just been too busy to think about sending the gifts. Having a son took up much of the time that he wasn’t already spending governing, which had also increased in the past month or so. There was so much entertaining to do, as the lords and ladies of the land came to express their fealty to the crown prince, and as Yoongi made ever more ambitious diplomatic alliances with other kingdoms now that his reign was secured with the birth of his son.

In whatever spare time he had, he was constantly hanging around you and Man-bok, fawning over his son and enjoying your company. Despite your confinement, you thwarted the rules by sitting right outside your door to get a little sun and fresh air, often holding your son while you did so. It was a beautiful sight, one he wanted to continue to drink in for the rest of his days.

It was no surprise, therefore, that his priority wasn’t sending cute gifts to you anonymously, since he was always around you. When your confinement finally ended, he threw a little two-person party, ordering the kitchen to make all of the food you’d been craving since you were pregnant that had been off-limits for you, including your old favourites. He even managed to get the cook from your country estate into the palace, to make your childhood favourite.

“Thank you for dinner,” you said at the end of it, resisting the urge to lean back on your hands to give your stomach more space.

“Thank you,” he countered. “I am forever in your debt.”

“It was my duty,” you demurred. It was the truth – you’d always known that it would be your job to bring heirs to your husband.

“Still.” There was a beat of silence as a servant rushed to fill your cups with rice wine. He lifted his cup to toast you. “You have brought new hope to this kingdom. An emperor who will unite the houses of Min and L/n.”

“I thought our marriage accomplished that,” you giggled. You might have had too much alcohol tonight, after almost a year of not having any.

“You really think so?” he breathed, looking at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky and told him they were for him.

“Yoongi…” It was the first time you’d called him by name. In your defense, the open, vulnerable way he was looking at you made it difficult to remember that he was a warrior king, despite the scar on his face that attested to his experience fighting a war. “Of course, Your Grace.” You recovered from your slip quickly, and you flushed slightly, hoping he wouldn’t remember it.

Of course, that was a doomed wish. He’d committed it to memory, the sound of your precious voice speaking his name, and in that almost fond and tender tone, too. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest, and knew he was done for.

When he left your quarters that night after dinner, he barely waited till he’d descended the steps to pump his fist in the air. That was the most successful interaction you’d had with him to date, not counting when Man-bok was born, of course, since he was pretty sure you were so exhausted you couldn’t snipe at him if you tried then.

“Your Grace!” Sambo, walking a step behind him, sounded scandalized.

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

“So, tonight went well,” Ling prompted as she helped you get ready for bed. You sat in front of her, letting her take the pins out of your hair and sighing in relief. Your updo was often twisted so tightly it pulled on your scalp, and the giant metal pins hurt, to say the least.

“How would you know that?” you murmured, trying to keep a straight face. Ling would never let you live this down if you confessed to her just how much you enjoyed the company of your husband these days. Not after you’d screamed so loudly and for so long about how you hated him and didn’t ever want him to touch you.

In your defense, he’d really been a nightmare to live with at the beginning, cold and angry, mistrustful of your intentions. Not that he’d had any reason to trust you based on the way you’d treated him. You still cringed to think of the angry, cruel words that had been exchanged between you. You’d mocked the scar on his face from your uncle, the previous emperor, and he’d taken pleasure in describing the way he ran his sword through him in exchange. You’d laughed at his tenuous grip on the throne, and he’d—

Well. Suffice it to say, both of you had moved past that.

Ling reached over you to shift the mirror so that you could see your own face in it. “You’ve always had a shitty poker face, milady,” she explained. “You can’t hide anything from me.”

You sighed. “I knew I should have gotten different servants when I came,” you responded without any heat.

“Please, as if you have the patience to teach someone else just how you like your morning routine,” Ling scoffed, recognizing your teasing for what it was. Finally removing the last pin from your hair, she smoothed her hands over it as it tumbled down your back, then picked up the brush to comb through it.

“You’re right. I guess I’m stuck with you,” you responded, tilting the mirror slightly so you could look at Ling in it.

“Whatever. Stop trying to change the subject,” Ling ordered. “What happened tonight? You looked so happy when he left, and he could barely hold back his grin.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not that,” you said defensively. “I’m barely even recovered from giving birth; I’m hardly ready for more.”

“All right,” Ling conceded, though you could tell from her tone that she was still amused. Belatedly, you realised that your defense hadn’t been about how you felt about your husband at all. “Have a good night, milady.”

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

Having a son changed everything. You knew, perhaps better than anyone else, save your brothers, the dangers that came with being an heir to the throne, and it worried you to pieces that his life would never be safe.

You’d told your husband before, completely unsympathetically, that this was what being the king would entail. Having people after you, coveting what was yours, always lurking in the shadows and waiting for a time to strike… the idea that your own son would be subject to the travails of being the emperor made you want to clutch him to your breast and never let him go.

Yoongi caught you in one of your moods one afternoon, sitting in the gazebo in your private gardens, leaning against a pillar as you rested your son against your thighs. You cooed at him as you played with his hands and feet, smiling as he laughed back at you, but the furrow of your brow gave you away.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, sitting down next to you. It was rare for you two to be alone – Ling and Sambo were usually hanging around, and Man-bok’s nanny and wet nurse weren’t too far from the baby either. But you’d wanted a little time to bond with your son alone, so they were hanging out by the pond a small distance away. Ling had become friends with the nanny and nurse, and they were more than happy to have a little free time to gossip.

You picked up your infant son’s hand and used it to wave at him. “Hello, daddy,” you said in a high-pitched baby voice, and Yoongi smiled tenderly at the both of you, although you were still looking down at Man-bok and didn’t see it.

“Hello, my son,” he replied, leaning in to pick Man-bok up. You straightened his clothes a little as Yoongi stood the baby up on his lap, bouncing him a little. Yoongi was truly a remarkably involved father, especially for being the emperor.

“Yoongi, I’m worried about Man-bok,” you confessed in a small voice, looking up at your husband for the first time. Even the scar on his face now was a reminder of how difficult it was to be the emperor – Yoongi had been lucky to escape with just a disfigured face. He hadn’t even lost his vision.

“What’s wrong with him?” Yoongi asked with a frown, turning the boy slightly in his grasp to inspect him. He looked healthy enough, but you never knew with babies, really.

“Nothing,” you rushed to reassure him. “It’s just that being the crown prince is dangerous, and being the emperor is even worse.” Your voice choked up as you explained. Saying the words out loud made them more real somehow, and you almost wished you hadn’t.

“Y/n…” Yoongi looked over at you, shifting Man-bok so that he was being held more securely against him. “Is this about your uncle?” At the beginning, he’d never thought much about the fact that you were related to the previous emperors, but now the fact that he’d basically murdered your uncle in cold blood hung over his head like the sword of Damocles.

“Y/n… I’m sorry.” The words stuck in his craw, but he forced himself to say them anyway. It was a lie, but if it was what you needed to feel better…

Instead of accepting his apology, you made a rude noise. “For what?” you asked.

“For your uncle…?” Confused now, Yoongi cocked his head at you and furrowed his brow.

“Why would you need to apologize? Of course you raised an army to take the throne. It was his fault for leaving potential heirs alive.” The nonchalant way you expressed that sentiment gave him pause. He’d never taken you for someone so cavalier about violence and death. “He did the same thing to my brothers.”

The way your lips tightened as you said it clued him in to the fact that that was what was really bothering you. Of course, your brothers. The two princes that your uncle had had imprisoned and then murdered to secure his rule. When your father had died, your uncle had been declared regent since the crown prince wasn’t old enough to rule, and he’d wasted no time cementing his own authority instead.

“Y/n…” You avoided his gaze, instead reaching for Man-bok. He relinquished the boy to you and you hugged him close, needing to feel your son’s warm, healthy body pressed against you. “I promise you,” he continued, his voice full of conviction. “Nothing will ever happen to our son. Not so long as I live and breathe.” Ducking in, he pressed a tender kiss to the top of Man-bok’s head.

“Really?” The faint hope in your voice made his heart clench. In all the time he’d spent alternately admiring your kindness and cursing your stubborn, know-it-all streak, he’d never seen the vulnerability that you were showing him now. In hindsight, it was silly that he hadn’t realized this earlier, but of course you were scarred from the civil conflict that had been raging. Your family was in the thick of it all, and as much as the men and women involved were royalty, they were also your blood relatives. Really, it was a wonder you’d turned out as normal as you had.

“I swear on my life.” He’d never meant anything as much as he did now.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” Holding Man-bok with one hand, you reached for him with the other, sliding your arm along his shoulder to pull him close for a kiss. It was sweet and tender, a wonderful, perfectly fitting first kiss. His eyes fluttered shut as you drew close, wanting to savour the moment for as long as he could. Your lips were soft and you smelled like roses, just like the perfume he’d given you in secret.

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

It was highly unusual for the emperor to share a bed with his empress. Intimacy was carefully planned based on auspicious dates, and after the deed was done, you both got dressed and went your separate ways. You knew that, and yet you slipped into his room that night, after Man-bok’s 100-day celebration.

You’d gotten mostly undressed after the banquet ended, grateful to be out of your restrictive clothing. Man-bok was sleeping, of course, with his nanny, and you’d dismissed Ling too after she helped you out of the empress robes. Dressed in just your pajamas, you pulled a warm shawl over your shoulders and left your quarters. You just had so much pent-up energy from earlier, and you needed to talk to someone about it.

“Hey,” you said softly, slipping in through the doors just as Sambo was leaving. He gave you a sideways glance, but you ignored it.

“Hey,” Yoongi greeted, smiling at you. He too was in his pajamas, already in bed, the covers pooling around his waist as he sat up. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I just…” You swallowed, feeling a little silly now. This could have waited till tomorrow. “I guess I didn’t want the night to be over,” you confessed. It had been so much fun tonight, getting to meet and talk to everyone. Your sisters and old friends had come to the palace, and Man-bok had been so cute in his little ceremonial robes.

“I get it,” he said. “Come sit.”

You came closer, sliding the shawl off your shoulders, and knelt next to his futon. Illuminated in the soft light of the lamp nearby, the long blonde hair he’d left to tumble over his shoulders seemed to glow softly. Your own hair had been hastily put back in a bun – a lady never left her rooms with her hair down, after all. It was nowhere near as intricate as anything Ling could do for you, but it sufficed.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked with a soft smile.

“You know I did,” you giggled, leaning closer.

“Yes, I saw you having a grand old time with your sisters,” he teased, fondness evident in his voice. Ever since the kiss you’d shared, your relationship had been evolving. Yoongi didn’t know if you would ever forgive him for what he’d done to your family – despite your dismissive attitude towards your uncle – but he was content with this. You letting your guard down around him, seeking him out and enjoying his company… it was more than he’d allowed himself to hope for.

“Oh, I haven’t seen them in over a year,” you enthused. “It was so nice to see them all again! Thank you for inviting them,” you said, more quietly now. “I know it wasn’t an easy decision, inviting the L/n clan tonight.” Despite everything, you knew he was still insecure about his rule.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled at you, then noticed for the first time the soft light glinting off the hairpin you were wearing, the one he’d bought for you. “Oh, you’re wearing the pin! I was right, it does look good on you,” he complimented.

“You— what?” Your voice was shaky, your eyes wide as you reached up to wrap your fingers around the pin, and Yoongi realized that he’d fucked up.

Just to be sure that it was the right one, you pulled it from your hair, causing the long locks to tumble over your shoulders. Brushing it aside impatiently, you inspected the pin. Sure enough, it was the same one that you’d received almost a year ago, and you’d never found out who sent it to you.

“It was you?” The words trembled, fragile in the darkness of the room, barely there, like a wisp of smoke.

“I… yes.” Yoongi was watching you carefully, his hands held out placatingly in front of him.

“But why?” It felt like your mind was shutting down, unable to reconcile this new information. Back when you’d gotten this pin, you could barely stand to be in the same room as your husband. You hadn’t even started being friendly until after Man-bok was born. To know that he hadn’t felt the same way, that he’d been quietly watching you, thinking of you…

“I just wanted to make you smile,” he said honestly with a half shrug.

“Yoongi…” Your voice was choked up, and he was starting to panic now, not quite sure what he’d done wrong. Even if you hadn’t welcomed his advances, he hadn’t overstepped, right? All he’d wanted to do was make you less miserable, and now he was thinking that he would have been better off leaving you alone altogether.

“Is… is that okay?” The words were hesitant, Yoongi ducking slightly to look at your face.

Sniffling, you nodded, swiping at your tears impatiently so you could look at him clearly. In the dim, flickering light, Yoongi’s face was the most beautiful, dear thing you’d ever laid eyes on. Your eyes roamed his face, seeing him as if for the first time. He was so handsome, your husband, your emperor.

“Are you disappointed? Is that why you’re crying?” Worry crinkled Yoongi’s brow. He knew he wasn’t the greatest catch. Throne aside, his hair was a strange colour and the scar running dramatically across his face marred him permanently. He was short and quiet, awkward, caustic… The insecurities came roaring to the forefront.

“No,” you denied, grabbing his hands and bringing them to your chest. You shuffled closer yet, so that your forehead rested against his. “I’m not disappointed at all. Yoongi…” you breathed, your eyes fluttering shut as you brushed your lips across his softly. “Thank you.” For caring about you even when you’d cursed him. For being by your side, even when you hadn’t known it. Just for being him.

Yoongi’s hand slipped from your grasp before reaching up to cup your face, his thumb running across your cheekbone tenderly. “You’re welcome.” He understood what you meant and responded in kind. “You give me more than you know, Y/n.”

The urge to give him more was rising within you. Holding onto his shoulders for balance, you swung one leg over his lap, so that you were straddling him. His hands went to your waist, supporting you and tugging you closer. “Y/n,” he groaned. “What do you want from me?”

Your response was unequivocal. “Everything.”

That was all the permission he needed. Yoongi’s hand travelled up from your waist to the back of your head, bringing you in for a fiery kiss. He poured all of the longing of the past months into it, his lips moving over yours with urgency. Try as you might to keep up, you couldn’t. You’d only had sex with him to conceive before, and it had always been a hasty, dispassionate affair. You didn’t know what to do with your hands or your mouth, your palms resting lightly on his shoulders. You liked this, enjoyed the way his tongue slid against yours, but your body was rigid with uncertainty.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Yoongi broke away from the torrid kiss to ask. His hand on your waist rubbed you soothingly as he leaned back to take a good look at you.

“Uh, yeah, I…” You stammered. “This isn’t like before,” you finally said. All you knew of sex was what he’d shown you before, quick thrusts with his hands holding onto your thighs while you clutched the bedsheets and tried not to let your pain and discomfort show.

It was vague, but Yoongi knew what you meant, and he flushed with shame. “I’m going to make it up to you, okay?” he said, wrapping his arms around you and turning so that you were lowered onto the futon. His forearms bracketed your body, holding his weight up as he lowered his head for another kiss. “I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he slurred against your lips, one hand reaching for the tie of your shirt.

“Yoongi,” you breathed, your hands sliding around his waist as you held on to his clothes, tugging him closer to you. You felt the hard press of his erection against your belly, and were filled with curiosity. Before, you’d never really wanted to get close to it, and he’d basically just shoved it into you with little fanfare. You’d never even gotten a good look before.

Undoing the ties to his trousers, you slid your hand in, running your fingers hesitantly along his cock.

“Fuck,” he breathed, and you jerked your hand back as if scalded.

“I’m sorry,” you started to apologize, and he backtracked immediately.

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he reassured you, nosing at your chin before he trailed kisses down your neck. You sighed and tilted your head, giving him more room.

“Really?” you asked.

“Yes, really,” he said, sucking a little mark right over your collarbone. Emboldened now, you tried again, this time wrapping your hand softly around the shaft. His skin was soft here, and so smooth, but you could feel the steely hardness underneath.

“Ah, you’re so good,” he praised, and you started stroking him lightly, carefully.

“Allow me,” he breathed as he slid his hand down your body, groaning as he found the wetness between your legs. “So perfect for me,” he sighed as he started stroking your clit softly, watching you for your reaction.

You moaned luxuriantly, throwing your head back as your hips rocked. You’d never felt anything like this before, and if this was what sex could be, it was no wonder everyone seemed to like it so much. As you grew distracted with the pleasure suffusing your being, your hand slowed down and then stopped on his erection, but he didn’t mind. Coaxing the sighs and moans from you was more than enough for him.

“I’m going to put my finger in now,” he warned you, and your eyes opened in confusion.

“Why?” you wondered.

“I have to stretch you out, love, so you can take me easily,” he answered, leaning down to kiss you.

“You didn’t before,” you pointed out, and he grimaced.

“Please forget everything I did before,” he groaned, sounding very much like he was in pain. “None of it was right, and I want to show you how much I love you.”

“You—what?” That was new. You hadn’t expected it so soon, if ever.

“Oh, fuck.” He reared back at that and clapped his hands over his mouth in horror. “I didn’t mean to say that! Please ignore it,” he pleaded. Honestly, he wouldn’t blame you if you put your clothes back on and ran out of there right now. What an embarrassing lapse of decorum.

To his surprise, you did none of that, instead wrapping your hands around his wrists and tugging them away from his face. “Did you mean it?”

“Y/n—” he whined, his face hot.

“Yoongi, please,” you said, and the tenderness in your voice gave him courage.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But I don’t expect you to say it back! I know it’s too soon, and you might never feel that way about me, and that’s okay, really, I—”

You cut him off by tugging him close to you and kissing him. “I love you too,” you murmured softly when you separated.

“Really?” His voice was small, and you smiled as you nodded.

“Fuck, I’m going to make it all better,” he swore, his voice deepening into a growl towards the end. With a renewed sense of purpose, he pushed you back into the futon. His hands were everywhere as they stripped you of your clothing, and you felt a little exposed lying there bare for him to see. You were more than aware that your body hadn’t quite bounced back from pregnancy, and he’d never seen you completely nude anyway.

The sheer reverence reflected in his gaze did much to boost your confidence, though. “You’re so gorgeous,” he rasped, bending to tug a nipple into his mouth. You cried out, your back arching as he laved at it, his hand returning to its previous mission of getting you ready to take him. His thumb rolled over your clit gently as he slid his fingers into you, first one, then two, pumping slowly to loosen you up. The wet, lewd sound soon echoed through the room.

“Yoongi,” you breathed to get his attention, pushing his shirt over his shoulders. The tie had already come undone and the front was hanging rather uselessly by his sides, and it wasn’t difficult to remove it. Yoongi got the message, though, stripping himself off with far less fanfare than he’d done for you before coming back with a vengeance, as if the seconds he’d spent away from your body were too much to bear.

“Yoongi, c’mon,” you begged inarticulately, pulling his body down to yours by wrapping your arms and legs around him.

“Stop it,” he admonished. “I’m going to get you nice and ready for me. You have to be patient.” But you could see the way his jaw clenched.

“Yoongi, I want you to fuck me,” you whined, writhing on the mattress.

That certainly got his attention, and he looked back up at your face, seeing the expression of wild abandon painted across your features. Your eyes were shut and your mouth open as you lost yourself to the pleasure he was giving you, long hair spread across his pillow.

“You ruin me,” he accused as he withdrew his hand, using the slick coating his fingers to lube up his cock before he positioned it at your entrance. You moaned and arched, tightening your legs around him to draw him in deeper.

Before, when he’d done this, it had hurt. You’d been dry and he hadn’t put any effort into preparing you or making it a pleasurable experience for you, and you tensed up, remembering how unpleasant the experience had been before. You wanted to make him feel good, though, because he’d done the same for you, and it was that which motivated you to urge him into your body.

When he slid in, inch by glorious inch, contrary to your expectations you didn’t feel pain. No, there was a stretch, but it was intensely pleasurable, and you writhed against him. “Ah, Yoongi, it feels so good,” you gasped.

“Yeah?” he said, sucking marks into your neck. “You like that?” When he finally bottomed out, he rested his forehead against yours, panting as he tried to retain some control.

“Yes, Yoongi,” you moaned, wriggling and clenching down on him, desperate for more.

“Fuck, don’t move,” he gasped, his eyes wide as he clutched your hip. “I want to make this good for you.”

“It is good,” you insisted, ignoring his instructions.

“Y/n, you don’t even know,” he groaned, bracing himself as he started to move his hips. He was gentle at first, making sure that it didn’t hurt, but you were impatient, whining that you wanted more, and before he knew it, he was really going at it, one arm hooked around your leg to hold you open for him.

“Yoongi, yes, yes,” you exulted, thrilled. The expression on his face, his brow furrowed tightly, was endlessly exciting for you, and you loved the motion of his jaw as he clenched hard, focusing on pleasing you.

Adjusting his position, he started thrusting again, this time skidding against your g-spot with every thrust. To really seal the deal, he reached down to rub at your clit with his fingers, drinking your every sound and movement up eagerly. You raked your nails down his back as your legs tightened around him, clenching down on him hard as you came.

Faced with the sensation of your walls fluttering around him rhythmically, he couldn’t hold it together much longer, pressing his forehead into your neck as he reached his own orgasm, groaning as his hips stuttered sporadically.

When it was over, he slumped down over you, barely remembering to tilt his body at the last second so that he slid off you and onto the futon. “I love you,” he gasped, throwing one sweaty arm over your chest to drag you closer to him so he could press kisses over your face. “I love you so much.”

Smiling, you turned your head, rubbing your nose against his affectionately. “I love you too, Your Grace.” The teasing lilt in your voice as you called him that warmed his heart. Before he could say much more, however, you yawned and turned, slinging your arm around his waist. “Good night,” you murmured, burying your face in his chest.

“Good night.” He rested his hand on the back of your head. His empress, his wife. His love.

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

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[renegadewangs]

Van Zieks - the Examination, part 9

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

How the turnabouts have turned! It's time for Twisted Karma and His Last Bow!

Episode 2-4: Twisted Karma and His Last Bow

With Van Zieks's tragic backstory (…) exposed, it's time to head on into waters we've charted before, waaay back in the very first Ace Attorney game: The Prosecutor becomes the Defendant. It all starts off with some shenanigans which appear to have very little to do with Van Zieks (the arrival of Mikotoba and Jigoku, the Red-headed League, a missing prison warder, etc.).. Ryu does still run into Van Zieks very briefly in Stronghart's office, with Susato noting that there appears to be an awful lot of tension in the air. I expect Van Zieks is questioning that decision to leave Genshin Asogi's son in his care, but even so, he's very civil towards Stronghart. Susato also notes that Van Zieks gives Ryu a cold stare as he leaves, with Ryu wondering what he's done to earn that. This may also be a result of him being besties with Kazuma, since Van Zieks had already buried the hatchet towards Ryu for the most part. When Ryu asks about the decision to leave Kazuma in Van Zieks's care, Stronghart explains it was to best keep an eye on this 'mysterious amnesiac with no identifying papers'. Well OK then. Stronghart also explains he made Kazuma wear a mask because he didn't want to “burden Van Zieks with tiresome explanations about why he had an Eastern appearance.” … I would assume the very simple explanation is that it's because he's of Eastern descent, Stronghart. Regardless, the Lord Chief Justice has high hopes for Kazuma's future and isn't at all bothered by the fact that the guy has gone missing for a little bit.

Things take a turn later when Gina Lestrade comes barging into 221B with some pretty shocking news. Inspector Gregson was murdered. Yes, THAT Inspector Gregson. The suspect has already been arrested:

It's true that to the average civilian like Gina, Van Zieks's name is pretty much synonymous to the Reaper (of the Old Bailey). Even so, to have her outright calling him by that title adds a sort of emotional distance that's really striking. Gina explains they caught him at the scene and there were several witnesses, but Ryu thinks to himself that there's no way Van Zieks would have taken Gregson's life. So naturally, we owe it to our good pal Gregson (who actually was just coming around and being nicer to Ryu) to find the truth. Time to go have a talk with Van Zieks in prison!

… Okay that's funny. Don't worry, Barok, one day we'll all look back on this and laugh. Anyway, Van Zieks says he's in the last place on earth he'd want to be, with the last person on earth he'd want to see. And this line can easily be misinterpreted as Van Zieks saying he hates Ryu more than anyone else in the world, but what he's actually saying is that Ryu is the last person he wishes would see him in this troublesome situation. Ryu says he couldn't very well not come, but Van Zieks tells him to go home since it has nothing to do with him. Susato interjects, pointing out that Gregson has helped them out on numerous occasions and so, they're indebted to him. She pleads for Van Zieks's help with the investigation and he's silent for a moment, only to say: “There's really nothing I can tell you.” Which I suppose means he doesn't think he has anything helpful to say. Ryu asks about what Van Zieks was reading when they came in and assumes it to be a case report. Van Zieks says the Yard wouldn't share case details with a suspect (keep that one in mind) and explains it's a letter from Albert. Dear Professor Harebrayne has arrived in Germany safely! Ryu notes that Van Zieks usually never minces his words, but they seem to have less bite than usual now. No wonder, really, since he's in prison for the murder of an old friend. Van Zieks asks how much they already know about the case, so the two of them go through the facts and Van Zieks says they're well-informed. He's got nothing to add, because... Well.

Oh, this is going to be another one of those cases, huh. Susato asks what Van Zieks was doing at the crime scene in the first place, but Van Zieks points out he doesn't need to answer that, as they aren't representing him. When asked who is representing him in court, he says it'd be anyone other than Ryu. That said, he doesn't actually have any representation because of his reputation as the Reaper. Sixteen people he's prosecuted have mysteriously died and now that he's actually been apprehended for a murder, that whole Reaper ordeal is sure to be thoroughly examined.

BOY, have we got news for you! When it's pointed out that Van Zieks didn't actually have anything to do with those mysterious deaths (right???), he replies that no one wants to know the true identity of that killer more than he does, but it seems things may come to a head before he can uncover the truth. Van Zieks basically tells Ryu to leave, but being the kind-hearted gentleman that he is, Ryu offers to advocate for him in court. Van Zieks asks whether Ryu trusts him, which is a pretty fair question to ask. He's built up so many racist scumbag points and has such a bad reputation in town, it would be weird for Ryu to trust him unconditionally. Luckily, Ryu has been paying attention just as much as I have; he's heard Van Zieks speak in court and seen the way he treats people (uhh, English citizens, anyway), so he doesn't believe this 'Reaper' has it in him to take a life. Unfortunately, Ryu also has to acknowledge that feelings can't be used as evidence in court. Van Zieks considers the offer gracious, but...

“Not the police, not the judiciary... And not you Nipponese.”

One more scumbag point for putting “you Nipponese” in its own category for no reason. Either way, this man has built up such high defensive walls, you could see them from three galaxies away. Trusting no one is a pretty drastic way of living. Ryu thinks to himself that there's a chasm between the two of them that's 'just too wide and too deep'.

As a sidenote, presenting the attorney armband doesn't lead to any interesting conversation this time, but we can also present the Red-headed League advertisement! Van Zieks surmises that if it were a Black-headed League, Ryu would join without delay, which Ryu then confirms. Van Zieks says that sadly, his hair is neither black nor red. He goes into a most curious identity crisis of sorts, where he looks quite anguished as he wonders which coloured league he should join instead. There have been several debates over his hair color, actually, from lavender to purple to grey. Regardless, Susato points out that “people are troubled by the most unexpected problems at times.” It is unexpected, since Van Zieks needs neither the money nor the company that he would get from joining any such league. It's just the principle of the matter, I suppose.

Over by the crime scene in Fresno Street, Gina gets a little razzled when she suspects Ryu is thinking of defending “that Reaper bloke”. Susato points out that if “Lord van Zieks” really is responsible for the crime, he'll be judged fairly in court. This gets Gina to calm down again, because she really wants to know the truth of what happened and much like Van Zieks, she must know that getting the truth is what Ryu does best. A bit of conversation later, Gina points out one more interesting thing; Gregson apparently held a lot of respect for 'the Reaper'. “I take my hat off to that fella,” were his exact words, apparently. Ryu is skeptical, as am I, because I've seen the way Gregson talks about Van Zieks behind his back.

Gina explains that's exactly why he respected Van Zieks. That's... a little weird and ambiguous. So either he respected Van Zieks's ability to stand tall despite all the public scorn, or he respected the fear he struck into people's hearts. There's one more option; Gina keeps talking about the Reaper instead of Van Zieks, so it's possible that Gregson was talking about the actual Reaper. This seems unlikely, though, since he didn't seem to enjoy being part of the Reaper organization.

And now that we know Van Zieks is the defendant, one might be wondering: Who is the prosecutor? Who is the antagonistic force who will try to stop Ryu from uncovering the truth? Well, we find him over in Stronghart's office. Apparently he took an express train back to London from wherever it was he's been these past few days.

YOOOOUUUU!!! Though before we can address his presence properly, we need to discuss the new case. Stronghart wastes no time asking Ryu and Susato whether they've heard “the sickening news about the Reaper's latest devilry.” Which stands out, to say the least, since Stronghart has always been a strong supporter of Van Zieks up until this point. When Susato points out that surely he doesn't believe it, Stronghart says he believes only in facts, which all point to the unavoidable accusal of Lord van Zieks. Someone sure had a quick turnaround when it comes to his number one prosecutor, geez... Stronghart points out the irony that there's no salvation for anyone prosecuted by the Reaper of the Bailey, and now the Reaper himself must stand in the dock. Just as Van Zieks had already alluded to, Stronghart now claims the public will want answers about those mysterious deaths. Ryu and Susato both point out that which had been rubbed into our faces several times already; Van Zieks denies any involvement, and also there have been several investigations into whether he had anything to do with it. Stronghart kind of brushes this off, though. Turns out, Van Zieks is being traded in for a newer model number one prosecutor: Kazuma Asogi! Which seems weird at first glance, since Kazuma is a defense attorney, but Stronghart considers that a bonus:

“A devastation combination, wouldn't you agree?”

I do agree. Granted, it seems Van Zieks had already figured out the defense's strategies too, he just never actively used them to his own advantage. It also turns out that Kazuma personally requested the prosecutor position for this trial. Susato thinks it's pretty unprecedented to grant a newcomer exchange student such a request, but Stronghart offers some petty excuse about how this way, it won't look like the judiciary are closing ranks. Kazuma, who assumes his friend will take on the defense, says he'll see how Ryu's skills have been honed after practicing law in England for so many months. (Uhh. Actually, bestie, it was only about two months of being a defense attorney and six months of disbarment.) Ryu notes that Kazuma is being hostile towards him and wonders why. On a final note, when asking Stronghart about the gun found at the crime scene, we're told that it's issued to all members of law enforcement, including prosecutors. Van Zieks claims to have lost his. That's a troubling claim indeed, because it's difficult to prove or disprove. GOSH, if only fingerprints were allowed in court.

As Ryu and Susato turn to leave, Kazuma stops them. He once again states he wants Ryu to witness this trial as the defense counsel, to “see how it ends”. Since Kazuma has a very distinct vision for how he wants it to end, I guess this means he intends to confront Ryu with Van Zieks's guilt and have his bestie see that a man like him is unworthy of his trust. Either that, or he expects Ryu to use this trial to find the truth of what really happened with the Professor ten years ago, just as he used Albert's trial to dig into that incident. Still though, this reads as pretty scummy to me, because it means he wants Ryu to lose a trial and lose some of his belief in his clients. In the trial itself, it seems to me that Kazuma desperately believes Van Zieks to be a horrible person deserving of the guilty verdict. Therefore, he in no way can hold hope that Ryu will prove him wrong (unlike what went down in case 2-3 with Albert). Anyway, Ryu says that Van Zieks would never put his fate in his hands.

“... It's not easy to see behind the facade sometimes.”

Case 2-3 already told us this, but it's nice to have it confirmed by someone who was closer to Van Zieks. Because remember, Kazuma spent three months by Van Zieks's side (and even fighting by his side), so of course he would know more about his personality than we do. Kazuma hands over a photograph of Barok when he was younger and

GOOD LORD, HE CAN SMILE. Or he could when he was younger, anyway. Kazuma states the picture was displayed in Gregson's office. What he's 'trying to say' is that if Ryu really thinks he can trust “the Reaper” (distancing choice of words again), he might find that some straight talking will change his view. I got the impression we've been straight talking Van Zieks ever since we first met him, but okay. Let's take the picture and back to the gaol we go! Van Zieks is once again reading from some paper and Ryu points out that either he's an incredibly slow reader or it's an incredibly long letter, but either way, Ryu might even be able to read English faster than him. Naturally, this was said loud enough for Van Zieks to overhear.

Scumbag point for hypocrisy, but also a scumbag point for “Nipponese”. When Ryu asks whether it's still Albert's letter he's reading, Van Zieks says he had the case report brought to him in secret. So wait, the Yard does share case details with its suspect? Hilarious. Once again, Van Zieks insists the situation has nothing to do with Ryu, up until the prosecutor's name is revealed to him. And so, the masked cardboard cutout student has become the master! Ryu notes that all the color drained from Van Zieks's face, which is pretty impressive when there's barely any color there to begin with. Ryu has the opportunity now to thrust the photograph into his face, so let's do that. He's immediately alarmed, since he assumed it to be lost and would never have expected Gregson to have it. When Ryu says that Gregson had a deep respect for him, he dismisses that as nonsense, only to correct himself. “There was a time things were like that.”

Van Zieks thanks Ryu for that nice glimpse into the past, and Ryu thinks to himself that there was a glimmer in Van Zieks's eyes- a brief twinkle. He considers that “an insight into the true nature of this man known to all as the stone-cold Reaper of the Bailey”, with “the true nature” being highlighted as orange. So this right here is undeniable; this is what the narrative is illustrating to us now. The true nature of Barok van Zieks is that of someone who was hopeful and jovial; kind-hearted, as Albert knew him. What we see now, that harsh exterior full of harsh words, is not his nature at all.

Van Zieks is more willing to talk now. He once again speaks of Klint, rehashing the same story we've heard several times already. Van Zieks claims there's not a single day where he doesn't curse the name Asogi. He considers it a cruel twist of fate that the man's son intends to crucify him in 'some kangaroo court'. Clearly, he doesn't think highly of the upcoming trial if he refers to it as a kangaroo court, but that's likely because he knows he isn't the real killer. When Ryu points out that he still doesn't understand why Stronghart apprenticed Kazuma to Van Zieks, the explanation is that “it's what he does”. Van Zieks believes that Stronghart knew Kazuma's true identity from the outset, but still provides no real explanation as to why Stronghart 'did what he did' and even assigned Kazuma as the prosecutor this time. Van Zieks goes on to contemplate the name Asogi some more and calls it 'the epitome of his bane'.

I've talked before about how utterly flawed it is that Van Zieks attributes Genshin's crime to his race and/or cultural upbringing and proceeds to tar every single Japanese person with the same brush. There's no need to go into this again; we all know it's wrong. Turns out, even Van Zieks knows it's wrong, but we'll get back to that momentarily. First, Van Zieks needs to talk about Klint even more. (good lord...) He explains that Klint van Zieks was hunting down a mass murderer and “assigned to the investigation as his partner was a certain visiting student dispatched by the Yard.” This was Genshin, of course, and I believe this is the first time it's said that he too was looking into the Professor case. So Van Zieks already mentioned in the previous case that the Japanese students had left a deep impact on him, and also that he once toasted friendship with a Japanese person, but now we have this:

“But none of us saw the true nature of the man.”

True nature is once again in orange here, but this time as a red herring. Van Zieks believes that the Professor murders were Genshin's true nature, when it isn't quite true at all. Regardless, since Van Zieks was still in university at the time the exchange students were in the country, I don't think he would've had that much contact with Genshin. I expect he encountered the man on rare occasion while Klint associated most with him. Every meeting was enough to foster this respect and friendship, though, so it's clear that young Van Zieks was easily influenced and had a very open mind towards a foreign exchange student. But then, that's what makes the next portion of the story all the more damaging.

“My esteemed brother... The people I believed in... And any semblance of right prevailing over wrong!”

As Van Zieks also already alluded to in the previous case, he found himself in a very dark place. That isn't surprising. Every positive thing Van Zieks knew in his life, from his family to his closest friends, was ripped away from him in extremely close succession. What must've been the final nail in the coffin was Genshin outright admitting to his crimes. It erased all doubt that perhaps there was some sort of misunderstanding or a frame job. Going over everything Van Zieks has said so far, it seems he didn't just blame Genshin for the tremendous loss he suffered; he blamed himself. He must believe that his trust in Genshin blinded him to this supposed 'true nature', just as it must've also blinded Klint, and that the whole tragedy could've been prevented if only he'd been more cautious. So now, in present day, he no longer trusts anyone. He outright says so.

Van Zieks goes on to talk about how he was the one who prosecuted the Professor. Since he'd only just graduated, such a thing usually wouldn't be allowed, but he “beleaguered the ascribed prosecutor until he consented.” This person was Mael Stronghart, who back then was apparently still no more than a prosecutor. A highly accomplished one, but a prosecutor nonetheless. Since Klint was the Director of Prosecutions (or Chief Prosecutor???) at the time, that means he actually ranked above Stronghart. Interesting. Regardless, since Stronghart agreed to let Van Zieks lead the prosecution and instead only acted as an advisor, Van Zieks now feels indebted to him. That certainly explains why he's usually so good about following Stronghart's orders and not asking questions.

“And, of all things, as a lawyer.”

Ahhh, this is the part where Ryu enters the chronology. Our protagonist points out that he's felt Van Zieks's animosity since the first time he faced him in the courtroom; his obvious deep loathing of Japanese people. And here comes perhaps one of the most important, yet most overlooked lines Van Zieks will ever utter in these games:

“But for so many years, that hatred had festered inside me, I could no longer control it.”

So here, Van Zieks admits to two things. First of all, he admits that he was wrong to hold such deep loathing and by extension, to give that loathing a voice. He's a man of logic, after all. To cling to something which he refers to as illogical is about as wrong as one could get. Not only that, he admits that this was an unstoppable force he should have controlled, but was too weak to do so. The hatred overpowered him and did away with common sense. He behaved stupidly and irrationally because for ten years, hatred and negativity was all he knew. But what's even more striking here is Ryu's answer, which is also often overlooked:

Ryu, bless his heart, doesn't blame Van Zieks for succumbing to this weakness. Bear in mind, he's the victim here. Van Zieks wouldn't have encountered many other Japanese people in those ten years, if at all. This means the first person he lashed out against was Ryu. Naturally, Ryu can't speak for Susato or Soseki, who received their own verbal assaults and might have different opinions on the matter. Ryu is just one man, but in our narrative, he's the main protagonist and the main target of these outbursts. Is it misleading and perhaps even problematic in the grand scheme of things to have the protagonist sympathize with such motivation? Well, that depends on many different factors. There's no easy answer for this because it's a nuanced, cultural sort of thing. Personally, I was a bit bothered by it, but not to the point that it ruined the experience for me.

Van Zieks admits that just as the Japanese were the bane of his life, Kazuma Asogi must believe Van Zieks to be the bane of his. He is, after all, the Reaper who sent his father to the gallows. Van Zieks thinks that Kazuma intends to take revenge in court and... Really, this is true.

There's a quick bit of conversation about Gregson now. Turns out, the only reason the Professor was caught at all was because Gregson forced an autopsy on Klint despite it being considered the highest taboo at the time. Van Zieks says that as a result of Gregson's powerful conviction, he could avenge his brother's death. He looks quite torn, a bit pained. He must believe he owes Gregson something for this. The conversation then moves on to Van Zieks's revolver, which he claims to have misplaced an undetermined amount of time ago. “I must have stowed it somewhere, I suppose. Or left it somewhere, perhaps.” Van Zieks clearly doesn't think highly of firearms as a weapon, since he's constantly carrying a sword around instead. Susato points out that Ryu has a talent for misplacing things in common with Van Zieks, which leads to one more scumbag outburst.

… Dude. Come on. You just admitted it was illogical. You came so far! Scumbag point for you. Still, as the conversation rounds to a close, Van Zieks utters the words “Mister... Naruhodo”, much to Ryu's surprise. This is the first time he's actually said Ryu's name! Van Zieks once again reiterates that he's lost all confidence in England's judiciary system. He doesn't trust the police, the judiciary or lawyers. Even so, there's still one thing he's willing to believe in.

“That which you see in the eyes of another across the courtroom: a simple determination to know the truth. From the very first time we clashed in the Bailey almost a year ago now... I couldn't deny it, even though I dearly wished I could. 'Here is a loathsome Japanese... who has absolute integrity as a lawyer.' There are only two other men I've known with that same look in their eyes: my brother, Klint. … And Genshin Asogi.”

This is interesting. So at first when he saw that look in Ryu's eyes, he must've been reminded of Genshin. And again, this is why he directed such hatred towards Ryu; he saw someone who wasn't alive anymore. But now he recalls that Klint also had that same gaze, and so he wants to believe that Ryu is not similar to a deceitful murderer, he's instead similar to his beloved brother. (Boy is he going to have to reevaluate how he judges people when he finds out that his beloved brother was the deceitful murderer.) Van Zieks says that when he saw the photograph, he was reminded of a time when he could laugh, free of the shackles of mistrust which plague him now. This is very relevant since Van Zieks indeed can't laugh anymore. We never see him do it. He can't even smile.

“But at times the mire into which I've sunk makes it almost impossible to breathe.”

Someone please get this man to a professional therapist. If he means that in a more literal sense and he does occasionally feel like he can't breathe, that's telltale signs of panic attacks. It could just be, of course, that he's being overdramatic and the “impossible to breathe” bit is just fanciful wordplay to go with the mire analogy. Still though, considering he's also mentioned being in a dark place and that he's willing to die so long as it serves a useful purpose, and that he drinks his wine to stave off tedium... He's clearly depressed. But then, he seems to know it. He acknowledges that the way he is now is not the way things should be, and that he needs to fight to overcome it. And so:

“... In tomorrow's trial... Will you advocate for me?”

Boom. Swallowed his pride and turned to Ryu for help because he knows it's what's best for him. He no longer trusts anyone, but he's willing to trust Ryu because once he starts opening up again and has that trust repaid, then perhaps things can gradually go back to the way things were when he was younger. Mind, he still hasn't apologized for his actions, but that doesn't change that Ryu at least is willing to extend a hand to Van Zieks. It's a little sad that Susato doesn't properly form her own opinion on this and instead just goes along with whatever Ryu says. I would've liked to know just how she feels about Van Zieks's attitude and whether or not he deserves to be helped. She doesn't object to it, at least, and since Susato usually always speaks her mind, I can only assume she genuinely agrees with Ryu's sentiments.

The next day, in the defendant's lobby, it's remarked there's a 'menacing tension' in the air and Ryu surmises out loud it's the result of the menacing appearance of the defendant. Well-deserved, that remark. Touché. Van Zieks asks him for a little more courtesy in a polite enough manner, but considering the lack of courtesy he's shown Ryu over the past 8 months, that's hypocritical. He informs Ryu that this is a closed trial without a jury, which bums me out because it means no more Summation Examination. I would've liked to see Asogi react to that. (S)Holmes comes in and has the weirdest little banter with Van Zieks that I honestly can't... really decipher. There's several things about it that really strike me as being off:

- “And I you. I see London's celebrated great detective is as active as ever.”

- “Oh, you exaggerate, my dear fellow. Compared to my paltry engagements with a few trivial cases... The Reaper's overbearing presence is a far greater deterrent to the black roots of crime in our capital. And whilst I may not agree with your methods... There is at least one point on which I would readily commend you.”

- “What an honour. And that would be...?”

- “Your eye for a good lawyer, sir. […] Behind this lawyer there is a very great mind. My own.”

Alright, so... First of all, we know (S)Holmes is super arrogant and would never refer to his past cases as “trivial” in all sincerity. Plus, it's established that he's very weird with compliments, such as referring to Gregson as “the best of those blunderers of the Yard”, so complimenting Van Zieks directly on the effect he has on crime feels off. Aside from that, (S)Holmes addresses Van Zieks as the Reaper and continues to talk about 'his methods', when it's already been established (S)Holmes doesn't believe Van Zieks has anything to do with the Reaper killings. Taking all that into account, I can only really assume that the first half of this above conversation is (S)Holmes being weirdly passive aggressive towards Van Zieks, with Van Zieks being passive aggressive in turn. It really, truly feels as if there was some sort of backstory between these two that they had to scrap at the last second. Regardless, the exchange ends with (S)Holmes warning Van Zieks that this will be “quite a trial”.

Gina Lestrade shows up with Yujin Mikotoba (….. when did they meet???), saying they intend to watch the trial, and I am very impressed with how (S)Holmes manages to disappear from the scene and not say a word when his old partner arrives. Anyway, Gina looks Ryu square in the eye and asks him why he agreed to take Van Zieks on. Everyone's saying it was him who killed Gregson. Considering everyone was saying it was her who killed Pop Windibank six months ago, you'd think she might want to tone down her attitude, but she's clearly in mourning and lashing out. See? People who are hurting can say insensitive things. Ryu insists he doesn't believe it to be true, but Gina demands to know that if it wasn't him, then who?

“An' if it turns out it was 'im wot killed the boss... Then God 'elp 'im!”

It's interesting to remember that during The Unspeakable Story, Gina wasn't afraid of Van Zieks for his Reaper reputation. She didn't believe in the curse and didn't think she would end up like the other defendants. Now, she absolutely no longer gives a damn whether Van Zieks is the mysterious Reaper or not. She only thinks he might be a murderer who took away her mentor and that's what has her judge him so fiercely. Van Zieks remarks on her fiery eyes and tells her that the culprit does indeed deserve every inch of her loathing. “At least that may be some solace to the deceased.” So here, in a roundabout way, it rather looks as if Van Zieks is sympathizing with Gina's anger. At the very least, he's condoning it, just not towards himself.

Entering the courtroom, it becomes clear very fast just how serious this trial will become. Just as was alluded to before, the judge confirms that the 'Reaper of the Old Bailey' has been undermining Her Majesty's justice system and therefore, the people will demand answers on this matter. Ryu thinks to himself the trial will be a lot more far-reaching than just Gregson's murder. Sure enough, Kazuma is at the prosecutor's bench and ready to get that vengeance Van Zieks referred to in jail. Shockingly, the first witness he summons is actually Van Zieks himself. The judge is surprised, but Kazuma explains that as a prosecutor, Van Zieks believes in the oath of office he's taken; he'll be compelled to tell the truth. Because contrary to what happened in Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro, Van Zieks is against perjury! (I WILL NEVER GET OVER WHAT HAPPENED WITH SHAMSPEARE!) Sure enough, he takes the stand and Kazuma says the court would like to hear him explain some things away.

He really is just brutally honest, isn't he? Both in his courtroom methods and in how he shows his emotions. He doesn't sugarcoat, he doesn't beat around the bush, he definitely doesn't lie... At most, he may withhold some information. Unfortunately, his testimony is mostly useless. The judge remarks that he didn't want to imagine this day would come, but ever since Van Zieks became known as the Reaper, he's been dreading it. The judge, our neutral ground, seems to be convinced that Van Zieks may have actually done the deed. That's not good. Kazuma acts all smug, saying that Van Zieks indeed hasn't explained anything away and that his testimony barely qualifies as an excuse. Van Zieks notes that his 'mute apprentice' has a way with words. Meanwhile, Ryu thinks to himself that Kazuma isn't behaving like himself, which is a sentiment they'll keep repeating throughout the case. … I gotta be honest here, I didn't notice all that much of a difference between this Kazuma and the one from the very first case of the game. I mean, come on, he sliced a man's hair off and cursed his descendants just for insulting Ryu. He's slightly more arrogant here, maybe, but since he was only the assistant there and is a leading counsel here, it makes sense for him to be more proactive and confident in his methods. Then again, I'm not a Kazuma expert; maybe there's something I'm missing.

In his testimony, Van Zieks revealed that he was investigating Gregson, but when pressed on it he won't admit the exact reason for it. He only says he'd identified a distinct possibility Gregson was involved in a case he was investigating. When asked how he even knew where Gregson would be, he openly admits to having stolen into his office and consulted his diary. (“Dear Diary, today I dropped my fish 'n chips on the way to Fresno Street-”) When told that illegally entering Gregson's office would warrant serious consequences, Van Zieks says he was aware of that risk.

The rest of the testimony is pressed without further hitches, though what did strike me as interesting is that at one point, Ryu suggests the gunshot might've originated from outside the room, but Van Zieks immediately says it's out of the question. He shoots the possibility down with evidence only he could have experienced (the bang sounded inside the room and he could smell gunpowder), and in doing so, only implicates himself further. Detrimentally honest, this one. Not only that, but he picked the gun up.

NO KIDDING that was carelessness. Is he related to Miles Edgeworth after all? Kazuma talks about how three street peddlers overheard the bang and burst through the door with some force. Van Zieks states they almost gave him a heart attack in the process (omg) and Ryu thinks to himself: “(But you're supposed to be the Reaper...)” C'mon Ryu, haven't you seen enough of this man by now to know he gets jarred easily?

When the testimony rounds to a close, things get interesting. Kazuma uses his defense attorney skills, as promised. He uses evidence from the Court Record to point out contradictions in Van Zieks's testimony, thereby 'proving he's lying'. Hey, what happened to Van Zieks believing in the oath of office and being compelled to tell the truth? Did Kazuma call Van Zieks to the stand just to expose him as a liar? He wins the judge over quite easily by illustrating these contradictions and casting doubt on Van Zieks's integrity. Tragic, because as Van Zieks says:

Van Zieks steps down from the stand and disappears for the remainder of the trial day. He doesn't even show up during intermission in the defendant's lobby. Characters do still talk about him, though!

I mean... He ain't lyin'. At one point, Kazuma utters the words “the defence is fated to lose. And the prosecution to win,” which once again confirms that Kazuma basically asked Ryu to take part in an 'unwinnable' trial. Which, y'know, is technically fine. Losing a trial isn't the end of the world, especially when the defendant (in Kazuma's eyes) is actually guilty. Still though, personally asking Ryu to take on Van Zieks just so he can watch the man be exposed as a killer is kind of... Kazuma, sir, are you also unable to control your hatred and having it lash out in illogical ways? Is that a parallel with Van Zieks I spy?

The rest of the trial isn't directly related to Van Zieks. It's just a whole bunch of roundabout arguing with street peddlers, red-headed scammers and the revelation that one of those peddlers is actually Daley Vigil, the missing former prison warder. Despite knowing of the dangers, Kazuma asks Ryu to help him forcefully break some of the man's black psyche-locks (c'mon, we all know that's what's impeding his memories) and they send the man to the hospital as a result. Welp. Unveiling the truth is becoming increasingly dangerous in this game and that's really upping the stakes for us.

Into the next investigation day we go! Ryu surmises that it's clear now “Van Zieks definitely didn't do it.” Even so, there are some unanswered questions about the man. What was he even doing at the crime scene and what's with that investigation into Gregson he didn't want to talk about in court? Heading on over to the Chief Justice's office, we overhear him pressuring Kazuma into 'continuing the trial as instructed'. Once he takes note of Ryu and the others, he tells them that he wanted Van Zieks's trial concluded that day and blames 'Asogi's unwelcome inquiries' for it taking longer than necessary. Stronghart's becoming increasingly ominous, here... I don't know for certain why he doesn't just go the extra mile to have Van Zieks proven innocent so he can keep using his Reaper tool to intimidate the masses. I suppose it's because with Gregson dead, he's lost his most important strategist in the killings and the tool of the Reaper's curse can't be used as easily anymore. Assassins probably come a dime a dozen, so Shinn can be replaced, but Gregson... Not so much. Ryu asks Stronghart whether Kazuma truly believes Van Zieks to be the Reaper, but Stronghart says he wouldn't know. He once again talks about the history of the Reaper with its very long run of coincidental deaths and tells us nothing new or interesting.

To prison we go, to visit Van Zieks himself! He's reading a book now, but we're never told what it is. He tries to ignore the visitors, but just as always, eventually comes up to the bars to talk.

YOU FREAKIN- I CAN'T- WHY- How many more times must we teach you this lesson, old man?!!! Thankfully, even Ryu is fed up at this point.

Finally. He spoke up. I've seen a lot of people criticize the fact that Ryu never properly confronts Van Zieks with the damage he's been doing, and on the one hand I would agree. Calling people out on their bullshit is a very useful step in having them notice their mistakes. However, I'd be remiss if I didn't point out that is also a very Western view. It's very easy for us to think that Ryu should stand up for himself and call Van Zieks a prejudiced little tosser who needs to think before he speaks, but that simply isn't part of his character. There may be several reasons to explain why he doesn't confront Van Zieks more firmly, but I'd like to focus on just two. The first is that Ryu is an exchange student who came to England as a 'guest' and is facing not just one racist. Not even five or ten. Everywhere he goes, he's surrounded by people just like Van Zieks. We've seen it in the judge, we've seen it in the jurors, we've seen it in Gregson and in witnesses... Ryu is a minority in a very literal sense, since there's only one other Japanese person (two if we count Soseki) we know of in this entire city. There's a very natural, very understandable defense mechanism which may kick in when surrounded by potentially dangerous individuals, and that is to withdraw; to be as quiet as possible and to attract as little trouble as possible, since 'they outnumber you'. Bonus points for the extreme difference in social standing between Ryu and Van Zieks.

There's one other thing which adds to the above. Ryu was written to be your everyday Japanese person, and their view on confrontation is quite different from our own. I remembered this from a job interview I once had with a Japanese company and looked into it again to refresh my memory: Japanese people are non-confrontational. It's very important for them to maintain a sort of harmony during conversation and therefore, they'll rarely utter negative sentiments, such as criticism, in a way that will cause embarrassment to the person they're addressing. Instead, they employ something often referred to as indirect communication. “The pattern of Japanese indirect communication uses far less words to convey intent in a more subtle manner. Indirect communication uses expression, posture, and tone of voice of the speaker to draw meaning from the actual conversation.” This is very deeply ingrained into the Japanese culture and, if the sources I reviewed are correct, it goes all the way back to the feudal days. Mind, this attitude isn't even limited to Japan. I've been told there's several other countries who adopt that very same attitude and if you cause someone else to lose face, it can have some very severe repercussions for you. Kazuma is a bit more outspoken than Ryu, for example when they face Jezail, but this makes sense also, since Asogi was written to be more progressive. It seems to me that Ryu has been using indirect communication quite often already and, since Van Zieks is woefully unequipped to read this type of communication, Ryu has now finally resorted to something more direct. It's still not a sharp call-out, but rather, the above line reads to me as something in-between direct and indirect communication. And it works.

HELL FROZE OVER! We've done it, lads! Or, as Iris puts it:

So even the rest of the cast is acknowledging this is a big deal and we've made tremendous progress. Could someone else have confronted Van Zieks in a more direct, more Western way before this point? Sure. But would he have listened? The judge has already snarked at him several times during trials and it's always been brushed off as nothing. The only person he might've listened to would've been Albert, but what is the narrative significance of having a side character confront Van Zieks? There isn't one. This was a very impactful moment where Ryu himself resorted to a more Western tactic to get his point across and Van Zieks, in turn, finally uttered an apology. So now we get to have an earnest conversation with the man at last. Van Zieks says he was impressed; not by Ryu but by Kazuma. On first glance, this seems like a mean thing to say, but... Van Zieks is already intimately familiar with Ryu's performance in the courtroom. Why would he still be impressed by that? Kazuma, however, he's never seen in action before. Van Zieks thinks it's all rather “sardonic”.

It's called a cruel irony, Barok. A common tool in storytelling. He himself considers it “retribution for having played the part of the Reaper all these years”. So once again it's discussed how the Reaper minimizes the amount of crime in the capital and since that's a goal Van Zieks is committed to, he never said anything to disprove the rumors. Ryu insists that someone else is profiting off Van Zieks's silence on the matter and is basically using him as a scapegoat. As it turns out, Van Zieks wasn't quite as passive about the matter as he's led us to believe.

Hm. Alright, so he thinks it's good the Reaper's curse is reducing crime in London, but clearly he wants the Reaper organization brought to justice. In a way, he's profiting off these 'accidental deaths' since the fear that comes from them aligns with his goal of crime reduction, but he doesn't actively condone the Reaper murders and wants them halted. Since there's so much accurate information about the accused used in the killings, Van Zieks surmised a while ago that someone from Scotland Yard must've been involved in the killings. It's taken him “many years” to identify the central figure in the organization: Tobias Gregson. Naturally, everyone is shocked. We knew Gregson! And sure, he wasn't exactly a kind person, but he certainly didn't appear to be a killer. He was very rough around the edges, but from what we'd been led to believe, he had a good heart. … A decent heart. Mediocre, one might say. Ryu asks whether the reason Van Zieks was investigating Gregson was to expose him as the Reaper, but Van Zieks repeats the notion that the Reaper is not a single person. He doesn't have a doubt, though, that Gregson was a key member of the organization who did all of the planning. Believe it or not, Gregson was the brains behind the killings; the tactician who investigated and plotted, then left the dirty work to an assassin by the name of Asa Shinn. (LOCALIZATION WHY)

So now that we have this information, we can come to a very interesting conclusion. Both Gregson and Shinn are dead now, so by Van Zieks's reasoning, the Reaper is dead. You'd think this is good, but it does in fact make it very difficult to find the truth. Rather, Van Zieks believes that the truth died with Gregson (he hinted as much twice already) and while the seasoned Ace Attorney player knows it won't be impossible to expose a dead person as a killer, it'd be a hectic ordeal. The seasoned Great Ace Attorney player will know the Reaper hierarchy extends just a bit higher and the two who died are only pawns, but... Y'know. Approaching this from a first-time-player point of view, you'll know things will get troublesome.

There's another topic of conversation where Van Zieks once again addresses how sharp Kazuma is in court. He didn't miss a thing.

OUCH. So when Ryu first arrived, Van Zieks saw Genshin whenever he looked at him, not only due to his roots but due to 'the look in his eyes when searching for the truth'. Now, he sees Genshin in Kazuma, which surely makes a lot more sense. Van Zieks goes on to say that it's true some of the aristocracy from 10 years ago were problematic and abusing their power. “In a way, Asogi was carving out a canker from society that we British couldn't deal with ourselves.” So here, he sounds almost complimentary of the Professor's actions- specifically Asogi's actions. As if it would've all been well and good, were it not for the Professor's final victim. “But that's precisely why it makes no sense. Klint van Zieks was a noble and upstanding man. He wasn't corrupt.”

Remember way back in The Unspeakable Story when I surmised that Van Zieks boiled Genshin's actions down to his race in order to avoid the belief that there might've been a reason his brother was killed? We see it here again. Van Zieks is in doubt. He may say vocally that “it makes no sense”, but that line in itself is already telling. The fact that he acknowledges it and draws it into question implies to us that he's skeptical of the story. Deep down, he knows something is amiss. He knows there's some sort of explanation he's missing, but if he were to dig too deeply into it, he'd have to acknowledge that perhaps his brother was corrupt. And this still isn't all of it. There's one more thing Van Zieks has to discuss before we can round this conversation to a close. Ten years ago, shortly after Klint died, Genshin saved his life.

There's that phrasing again. “True nature”. It's not in orange this time, but it's there all the same. Van Zieks is convinced that Genshin is the one who had a hidden true nature. In this story, we learn that 'the scum of London' had already targeted him several times even before he became known as the Reaper, simply because of who he was and who his brother was. JEESH. Harsh. So on the night in question, a couple of thugs also tried to kill him (allegedly) but Genshin stepped in to protect him. Genshin became lightly wounded as a result. This is the part where I would have expected them to explain Van Zieks's scars, but he never mentions being wounded himself, so we can't be sure this is when it happened. Curious. This was the perfect opportunity and they let it slide. So anyway, two days after that incident, Genshin was arrested.

Some more telling lines here. Van Zieks thinks he'd never recount the story to anyone; not because there's no need to tell it. It's because it must be difficult to talk about. On its own, that might be a farfetched conclusion I wouldn't make, but Ryu confirms it with his follow-up line: “Thank you... for confiding in me.” We can take this line to mean exactly what it says; Van Zieks confided something painful. He let down some more walls. Growth!

So with all this out of the way, there's a whole load more investigation to do before this case is over. Most of it has to do with Genshin's will, a mysterious trunk belonging to Gregson, the missing time of death on the autopsy report... Nothing too relevant to Van Zieks's character. However, if we go into the prosecutor's office and examine things while Kazuma is there, we do get some fun tidbits about how Van Zieks wouldn't trust anyone else to touch his things and would rearrange it all himself whenever needed. From the sound of it, Van Zieks is very meticulous and a loner, which aligns with what we know about him. Some more conversation later, we reach the topic of the Reaper with Kazuma. He agrees that Gregson was definitely involved in the Reaper organization, but there's one thing that's more important. “Who's been giving orders to the Inspector?” In my eyes, it's a bit of a stretch to assume with certainty anyone was giving orders; Gregson might've just taken up the vigilante justice by himself and found some way to pay Shinn enough money to get in on it. Kazuma insists, though, that Van Zieks is 'the real Reaper'. We as the audience already know that's nonsense, we know Kazuma is wrong. Or perhaps we might think that if somehow Van Zieks pulled the wool over our eyes and Kazuma is correct, that'd be one heck of a wild twist. Kazuma gives no real reason why he believes this, he only goes on to say that ten years ago, it was Van Zieks who 'decided his father must be a mass murderer'. Shockingly, Susato is the one to jump in here and outright say to Kazuma that he's wrong; that Van Zieks only saw that 'justice was done as the law dictates' and he wasn't to blame for Genshin's execution. Kazuma insists that people condemn people and the law is just a tool they use for it. So I suppose that's exactly what he's doing right now. He's condemning Van Zieks, just as Van Zieks once condemned Genshin. We're cycling! And my main question now is this: If Stronghart had been the prosecutor in the Professor's trial instead, would Kazuma be just as vengeful towards him? Because remember, it's people who condemn people. This implies that anyone who had taken on the job of prosecutor at that time is the one who 'decided that Genshin must've been a murderer' and would need to take responsibility in Kazuma's eyes. Kazuma's beef isn't with Van Zieks personally, it's with the prosecutor who used that tool of the law and also evidence.

HAHAHAAA! HAH! If you align this screenshot next to the “Klint van Zieks was a noble and upstanding man” line, you get a wonderful parallel. These two prosecutors are both dead wrong about their beloved family, and they're about to find out in the worst way possible.

One murder mystery spread out over two episodes? You bet! Stay tuned for the last case, The Resolve of Ryunosuke Naruhodo!

#dgs #dgs spoilers #tgaa #tgaa spoilers #barok van zieks #I can't believe I managed to cram it all into one post #phew #but this was a big one

[cyhyr]

Summer of Whump Day 24: Stitches

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: T

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi & Umino Iruka; Uzumaki Naruto & Umino Iruka

WC: ~2530

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: Stitches, performed without anesthetic. Dissociation. PTSD. References to past non/dub-con between Mizuki and Iruka.

A/N: Heyyy I did a tiny bit of research, watched a video on how to perform these kinds of emergency stitches, and Have Never gotten stitches before in my life, anesthetic or no. I just wanna hurt the man, is that so bad lol

~

Two days after Mizuki puts a fūma shuriken in his back, showing his true colors and betraying the village, Iruka leaves the hospital because he is sick of laying on his stomach. The medinins refuse to heal him any further, saying that his body needs to help put itself back together without the use of chakra; still, though, they want him to stay for at least a week, so they can keep an eye on his stitches. Iruka knows how to care for stitches. And so, with minimal pain medication and Naruto’s begrudging assistance, Iruka signs his discharge forms and goes home.

The next day he goes back to work at the Mission Desk, as the Academy is on break for another two weeks before the next term starts. The work is physically simple, if stressful in other ways. There really should be refresher courses for shinobi with terrible handwriting.

The problem happens on his way home. And it’s really the dumbest thing.

A stray cat gets underfoot. Iruka stumbles. He twists just enough to catch himself before he falls, and feels some of the threads holding his back together rip.

He’s proud of the fact that he holds back any outward expression of pain. He’s also proud that he makes it the rest of the way home without attracting any attention or getting any odd looks.

Iruka heads straight to the bathroom once he’s home, and is able to shrug off his flak vest easily enough. There’s a spot of blood on the inside, soon to set into a stain. Iruka can’t be bothered. He tries pulling his shirt over his head and grits his teeth at the flash of pain—nope, that’s not happening. Instead, he pulls a pair of scissors from the vanity drawer, sighs for the hopelessness of needing to replace this shirt later, and cuts the fabric off of himself.

Once his shirt is in pieces on the floor, he turns around and looks over his shoulder as best he can to observe the damage. He’s bleeding sluggishly through the ripped threads, and the skin has split again. He should go to the hospital.

He really doesn’t want to go back to the hospital. It’s only been a day.

But he can’t fix this himself; if it were on his arm, or leg, or hell even his chest or stomach, he could do it. In the middle of his back, however? That’s just—

“Iruka-sensei, I’m home! And I brought Kakashi-sensei! He said he was going to have soup for dinner so I invited him! Who has just soup for dinner???”

Oh, shit. He forgot about Naruto coming over. He forgot about giving Naruto a key and teaching him the wards. And of course, Naruto invited his jōnin-sensei—which normally wouldn’t be a problem! But he can’t go out there like this.

Fuck.

Naruto knocks on the door. “Iru-nii?” He’s quiet, which is how Iruka knows that Naruto is worried about him. “Is everything okay?”

His instinct is to say yes, of course I’ll be right there but he doesn’t want to lie to Naruto. He’s not okay, and he won’t be okay if he can’t get his back—

Wait.

Kakashi.

He’s not considering this. He barely knows the man! But then, wouldn’t that make it easier to ask for a clinical, clean, stitch me up please with no weird feelings?

Naruto knocks again. “Iru-nii?” The handle jiggles like he’s about to open it.

“I’m… I—Actually, could you. Um.” He braces his hands against the vanity. He can do this. He gets it all out in one large exhale: “Can you send Kakashi-sensei in here, please?”

Naruto seems to pause—maybe even thoughtfully—outside the door before he runs back to the living room. Iruka whines through his teeth as his back continues to bleed sluggishly. He can hear the two of them talking in the apartment, Naruto’s voice getting louder as he comes back to the bathroom.

“Please, can you just—?”

A soft knock. “Iruka-sensei?” Kakashi’s voice is just as soft.

“Come in, please,” Iruka groans. “Don’t let Naruto in,” he adds quickly.

Kakashi steps through the door and shuts it behind himself. He crosses the bathroom in two steps and stands behind Iruka, examining the wound. He lets out a low hum. “I thought you’d be on bedrest for at least another week, sensei,” Kakashi comments. “I heard this was serious.”

Iruka ignores him. “There’s a suture kit in the cabinet above the toilet,” he says instead. “Is there any chance I can have you—?”

“Why not just go back to the hospital?”

“I… Gods, Kakashi-sensei, I hate it there. It smells wrong and everyone looks at me with either distrust or pity and I. I can’t. Please.”

Kakashi doesn’t respond verbally, but does go to the cabinet and remove the suture kit. He pushes his hands around Iruka, into the sink, and washes up; then he finds a washcloth, wets it, and carefully drags it along the skin around the wound.

“You still may have lost a significant amount of blood, sensei. You should—”

“I’ll take an iron supplement,” Iruka shakes his head. “Just. Close it back up, please.”

“There’s no anesthetic in here.”

“I know,” Iruka says sheepishly. “I used it up last time Mizu—well, I never got around to replenishing it.”

“I don’t know the medical ninjutsu to numb the nerves,” Kakashi warns. “This is going to hurt.”

“I’m aware. Just. Do it.”

He can feel Kakashi prodding softly at his back with the forceps, the metal cool against his skin. He prepares himself for the worst.

~

It’s been at least a year and a half since Kakashi has had to give someone else stitches. He sets the forceps aside, back in the kit, and selects a pair of gloves.

“No latex allergy?” he asks, to confirm.

“I wouldn’t keep them in the house if I had one,” Iruka grumbles.

Kakashi hums and pulls his own gloves off, replacing them with the latex. “Five stitches in total, sensei,” he says, assessing the length of the exposed injury. “You popped four, but I learned a different method of stitching; I’ll need to make five to cover the same distance.”

Iruka nods. “Whatever you need to do.”

“Do you have something to bite?”

Iruka nods, reaches up and pulls his hitai-ate down his face, and back to his mouth. Kakashi notes that he doesn’t put the metal plate in his mouth—either he’s had this done before, or he’s not stupid.

Kakashi loads the needle, picks it up with the driver, and presses the tip of the needle against Iruka’s skin. “Last chance to go to the hospital,” he says.

Iruka groans through his makeshift gag and shakes his head. Once he’s still again, Kakashi drives the needle into his skin, turns his wrist, and pulls the first half of the stitch out of the right side of the wound. Iruka’s curse is muffled, but what Kakashi can determine sounds… creative?

He’s careful in pulling at the wound with the forceps, placing the needle precisely and piercing the flesh. Another turn of his wrist has the needle point rising up through the skin. He shifts the grip and pulls the needle through, letting the suture thread follow.

Iruka is statue-still, but whimpering behind his gag. It’s… gods it’s impressive, how still he holds himself through such biting pain. Then again, he is a shinobi—even if he’s a teacher now, Kakashi remembers pulling field work with Sandaime’s newest pet. Pain is just part of the job.

That doesn’t mean they can turn their nerves off.

Kakashi loops the thread and ties it off, settling the knot on the left. Twice more he knots the thread to keep it from coming loose again. He might not be a medic, but his stitches don’t pop. ANBU was good for something.

“That’s one,” he mutters and readies the driver again on the right. Iruka nods, and he continues the stitching.

As he’s tying off the second stitch, he notices that Iruka’s shoulders are, perhaps, too still. He glances around Iruka’s body (he thought the man would be slight and yes, he’s smaller than Kakashi, but they’re built similarly and that’s not important right now damnit) and notices that Iruka is barely breathing.

He sets his tools down and puts one hand on Iruka’s abdomen. “Breathe,” he orders. Iruka immediately sucks in a breath, pushing on Kakashi’s hand. He nods, saying, “Very good. Keep breathing through it. You’re doing very well.”

He picks back up the forceps and driver, not realizing the effect his words have on Iruka.

~

The needle bites into his back for the third stitch and Iruka breathes deeply through his nose. The pain is sharp and intense and combined with the ache of the rest of the shuriken wound and how recent Mizuki’s betrayal is on his mind… Iruka’s worried that he’s going to slip away like he used to in the last few months of his and Mizuki’s relationship. Before he had threatened Naruto one too many times and Iruka asked him to leave and not come back unless he can respect both of them.

(Mizuki hadn’t come back. He, instead, had gone and gotten engaged. Turns out Asuma-nii-san was right when he’d said that Mizuki was using him.)

(That was over a year ago. He doesn’t cry himself to sleep anymore.)

The needle comes up the other side and Iruka braces for the oddity of thread sliding through his flesh. Then the discomfort of the wound being pulled back together.

Kakashi is good at this, though. He uses even pressure the whole time, so Iruka can be sure exactly how much it’s going to hurt.

“Three done,” he says. “It’ll be over soon. You can take it.”

Mizuki used to say stuff like that.

Just a little more, baby. I know it hurts, but you can take it.

Iruka fights to stay present. The needle goes in, and in, and out and out; thread slides along the way it’s guided.

Aww, ‘Ruka, you gonna cry from a few stitches? I thought you were stronger than that.

He whimpers. He can’t have an episode in front of Naruto’s jōnin-sensei. But this was an unfortunate perfect storm of pain and soft words and harsh action but gentle hands and. And. And.

He breathes in. And out.

“There we go, that’s it,” Kakashi murmurs behind him.

His eyes lose focus. He needs to stay still because Mizu—Kaka—because… The pain is dull compared to the ringing in his head and the throbbing in his teeth. He can feel his heartbeat in his neck.

He tries to get out a warning. That he’s about to slip. He’s dissociating. He’s—

~

“One more knot,” he mutters. “You’ve done very well.”

Kakashi finishes the final knot and snips the thread to size. There are surgical dressings and tape in the box alongside the suture kit; he tapes a large dressing into place over the whole wound, not just the new stitches. The latex gloves come off and fall into the garbage beside the sink.

Iruka hasn’t moved.

He puts his hands on Iruka’s shoulders and turns him around; takes the hitai-ate out of his mouth and lets it rest around his neck. Iruka is… dazed? His breaths are shaky, uneven; what the hell…?

“Are you okay?”

Iruka nods slowly. Maybe the pain made him non-verbal. Kakashi’s known shinobi for whom it’s happened before.

“You took that well. I don’t know many shinobi who would get that many stitches without anesthetic outside of a field situation.”

“Thank you,” Iruka says drowsily.

That wasn’t exactly the answer he was hoping for. Umino Iruka is known for having a smart mouth and a quick wit; this is something else. “You should eat something.”

“Not hungry.”

“Something light, then.” Kakashi tugs him along by his elbows, says, “Your bedroom, out and to the right?” Iruka freezes, for less than a second. It’s enough for Kakashi to notice; he hastens to explain, “You need a fresh shirt, yes?”

Maybe a sense of normalcy will bring him back. Should he treat Iruka differently in this…

Fuck, the man’s not even looking at him. He’s looking at their feet. He’s trembling.

Trauma response, his ANBU training supplies. Fuck.

He takes Iruka’s hands, over-projecting his movements, and says, “Let’s get you dressed, and then you can sit with Naruto for a bit?”

Iruka’s like a doll as he follows along into his room, and sits primly on the edge of the bed. Like he’s ready to slip off at any moment—shit.

Kakashi ducks his head out of the room and yells down the hall. “Naruto? Come over here.”

The door next to his hand opens up and Naruto stands in the doorway, clearly stressed and worried. “Is Iruka-sensei okay? What happened? You guys were in the bathroom forever!”

Kakashi holds up a hand to stop the rambling. “He’s alright, I think. He’s—well, something unrelated to what I—”

Naruto pushes by him and into Iruka’s room. He clearly takes in Iruka’s shirtlessness and position on the bed to mean something else, because he crosses to Iruka and pulls the man into a hug. Then, he glares at Kakashi.

The Fox glares at Kakashi.

“You! I trusted you! How dare you touch him like that—!”

The fury is rising fast, and Kakashi needs to do damage control before real damage becomes a problem. He raises both hands and tries to placate Naruto, explaining, “Iruka asked me to fix his stitches. The trauma response is unrelated to me, I swear. Naruto, I didn’t touch him without his consent.”

The heat in the room settles a little, as it looks like Iruka leans into Naruto and maybe even mutters his name. Naruto looks away from Kakashi, his eyes still exposing the Fox, and he grits, “Second drawer down,” while pointing at a chest of drawers against the wall.

Kakashi moves carefully—he’s not sure yet how much of the Fox is out of the seal’s control and he doesn’t want to risk it. The second drawer has a selection of uniform shirts and also casual tees. Kakashi picks the topmost civvie tee and brings it to Naruto.

“That’s close enough,” Naruto growls when he gets to the end of the bed. He’s three paces away. He’s not positive that it’s far enough to make a clean retreat should Naruto determine him to be a threat. He tosses the shirt the rest of the way, and watches while Naruto helps Iruka into it.

“I’m going to go and find him something light to eat. Stay with him?”

“Of course,” Naruto growls. “You don’t need to ask.”

“Naruto…” he hesitates, not sure he wants to know, but is too curious to not try and ask. “What happened? Who—?”

“You can ask Iruka-sensei when he’s back,” Naruto says.

It’s telling enough that Naruto understands what’s going on, that Iruka is dissociated and not present. Kakashi heads out of the room with a nod. Someone who inspires this much rage from the Fox, and who Naruto is comfortable enough with to call “brother”?

Kakashi absolutely intends to find out everything he can about this man.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump24 #stitches #fanfic #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #my writing

[cosmic-lavender]

Insecure Chapter 1

~Summary: What happens when life starts to intrude on the sick dark fairy tail you have found with the Firefly family? Is this softer side of our favorite hillbilly slasher bound to run out? ~

PARING( OTIS DRIFTWOOD X Reader She/Her)

(I do not own these gifs)

The sun peeked through the cracked blinds, slowly illuminating the once pitch-black room. Although it was already close to noon, the Firefly family was fast asleep still. Y/n rubbed the sleep from your eyes and stretched out your left arm over your head while yawning. It happened to be a long night, one of laughter and sex and violence, everything that entailed an excellent time in this family. You were celebrating the second anniversary of being proposed to. While most people might find that to be a silly thing to celebrate but you weren't most people; no one here in this house was like most people.

You hurried to get closer to your husband. To say that you love this man was an understatement, for love could not express the bond that you are too dark souls have created. You lifted your left hand to examine the scar on your palm, the same one that Otis had on his. You thought back to all the past events that had led you both to where you were now.

"Now, sweetheart, why would you ask me a thing like that?" Otis was glancing over at you, who was on his truck’s passenger side as they drove down a long dirt road in Ruggsville, texas. It was a warm day, and you had the front side window down as you stuck your hand out lazily into the warm air. You had on tiny jean shorts and a tank top,  y/h/c flowing in the wind from the open window; you twirled one strand as you looked toward the passing flat scenery on the way home.

You and Otis had stopped into Spaulding’s roadside attraction to drop off Otis's latest artwork." I'm just curious because lately, I feel like you've been trying to incorporate more of the corpses into lovemaking time, and I just I don't know... I was wondering if you were starting to get tired of me," you asked him as your voice began to trail off at the end of your sentence. You shot him a playful smile, but he could tell that behind your eyes, there was doubt and insecurity brewing. 

It started that he just wouldn't take the corpses off the bed when you two had started your lovemaking. Now you were open-minded, and you were pretty much into anything. Still, you noticed more and more that it was less of him moving them because of an inconvenience, and more or less he wanted them there. It had become an argument the last time. You’d always told him that if there was anything he wanted to try with you, you trusted him, you loved him, there was not anything you can think of that you would deny him. Still, if he was more attracted to dead bodies, that's going to be a problem. 

"I already told you you're my everything. You're mine forever; there’s no way I could get tired of all this'' he says as he reaches over and rubs his large hand on your exposed thigh. You looked over at him and tilted your head. "I mean, I know it's something that you enjoy, and I'm so glad it's just that, you know dead girls if there are other girls you're having sex with..." she looked away from him and out the window staring again towards the fields. " I don't even see them as girls anymore; they’re just vessels for my rage and anger. I mean, I'll kill anybody, but I only sleep with someone I love, and I only love you y/n'' Otis said, shooting her a toothy smile. " I mean, I don't even look at another woman the way I look at you and shit, I've given up all the whores and, what not.

The moment you became mine, you know that. " he looked over to you again while simultaneously looking back at the road with one hand on the wheel and one on your thigh, now rubbing small circles on your skin. "I know that you take whatever I give you in the bedroom," he chuckles. "I know we get rough, wild, and downright freaky… but I also know that you've breakable, and I also know that I can hurt you badly, hurt you so bad that you may not be here anymore with me and I can't accept a reality where you may not be with me". 

You turned to face him, now taking your arm from the window and placing it under your head to rest it against the door. " You know the devil lives in me, sweet, heart," he says as he looks back to the road, never moving his hand from your leg. "And sometimes when the  devil side comes out .." he coughs a little and clears his throat, " what comes out I need something that I can release without worrying about if it hurts or if it breaks or if it dies." He's looking toward the road now, but his eyes seem empty, like he's lost in thought and far away.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and crawled over to him and laid your head in his lap. "So you scared you’d break me ?" You asked him as you stared at him from on his lap. His long silver hair is flowing in the wind, his large, strong hands both now grip the steering wheel " of course I am," he says but softer now like more to himself than to you. 

He looks down and places his hand on your cheek, and gives you a small smile. You set your much smaller hand on his rubbing his thumb. " Remember when I said I wanted to be inside your darkest everything and know everything? Is this you showing me that? By allowing me to be aware of the bodies or whatnot".  " It is, " he replies, looking down at you again. Still one hand on the wheel and one on your  cheek."  I knew you were the one for me who no matter what I showed you, no matter what I told you you didn't love me you didn't get frightened you came closer I want you to be inside my darkest everything forever" you blink and smile" I love you my devil monster " "I love you too kitten I love you too.”    

Despite your conversation in the car, things were a little awkward for the next few weeks; it was evident that he was not bringing up the topic around you and seemingly avoided you; you weren't sure why but it was starting to piss you off. The whole house could feel the tension; your usual loving demeanor was not as present. You confronted him the next time you saw him " so what you mad at me or something? " You asked him, crossing your arms in the doorway of his art studio down in the basement, " no what the fuck you are going on about," he replied, not looking up from his work, you couldn't even begin to figure out what was on that table. " I just feel like you're avoiding me. If you have a problem, I wanna talk about it" "don't you start with me y/n, I ain't got to problem you the one that had a problem, so I'm trying to not cause one by keeping my work separate.” You decided that the next time there was a corpse in the room you were going to take the initiative with, you figured that was the only way to help him with his uncomfortably considering he was not great at communicating .about it. It was obvious you had to take matters into your own hands to help fix this awkwardness.

 You knew that Otis had relations with them when you were out You've walked in a couple of times. You're not going to lie and say you weren't curious. Still, it was hard not to feel insecure, mainly because you've had bad past relationships. Other men in your life have always made you feel like they prefer the company of others, other women, compared to you, and granted, this was not a liability. However, the idea that you  had to compete with something was not sitting well with you, e especially something that reasonably would be unfamiliar to anyone. The times you did walk in you weren't sure what to do A lot of the times, Otis would stop and come over to you and usually finish with you. You started getting anxious about when the door is closed if you're going to walk in on him with the corpse, and if so, what do you do. Even if you were interested in understanding this part of his world where would you start?

Otis was uncharacteristic soft with you in those tim.es If you'd walk in and lowered your eyes and say sorry he would always say, " this is your room too Darlin where ya going, which would usually follow him giving you open mouth kiss trailing down your neck slowly leading you to the bed where you may have to push the unfortunate dead woman over to the side. Well, technicality wasn't a real woman so to say it was confirmed in the sense that she once was alive but is it still cheating, or is it the same as if he had a blow-up doll? You already knew about the comings and goings in the basement. Was this so shocking that this was occurring? You know you loved him and you knew that there would be nothing that would break up in the bond that you two had b, ut you weren't sure e how to handle this. You decided to embrace it. If this was something important to him, it would be necessary to you, and you were going to learn to incorporate it the best way you could. 

You thought back to the conversation in the car, No, he technically can't stab you in the abdomen while having sex or you won't be around anymore, and that makes sense; he has to release his rage in some way. You had already agreed no more raping of live women and no more picking up whores ( that wasn't an issue when it came to the live women he wanted you and only you) You did things to his mind. His bodies that no other women have ever done or could do, he more or less got the whores. He lived women when he needed a release after all this adrenaline, but now he had you for that.

So just as luck would have it, some unfortunate hitchhikers became the next round of victims in the home. You told Otis that you would be going with Baby into town. You don't know when you'll be back, knowing that when you were gone, he would probably take the time alone to have relations with the corpses. But you had a plan; you knew that if this was going to work, you would have to open your mind even more. You wanted to be in Otis’s world. You wanted to know everything that made him happy and turned him on and made him tick, so you decided to be part of it 100% jumping in without looking back. You waited a while until the house was entirely changed into your favorite lingerie with the silk robe and wandered up into the room. Sure enough, Otis was at it; he still had one corpse lai,d out on the table spread eagle for the world to see while he thrust into it angrily while stabbing the abdomen with two large hunting knives. "I see I'm missing out on a good time," You say slowly twirling the belt of your robe.

 He turned around and looked at you, startled " I thought you went out with Baby.. " he was out of breath blood, splattered onto his chest and in his hair with wide looking his eyes, both knives still in his hand and at that moment something clicked, he seemed,d so feral, so primal so .. sexy... you knew you had to have him. Slowly dropping your robe you walked over to him "please don't stop on my account, handsome," you said, confusion washed over his face. You walked over to the chair next to the dead body, flung your legs onto the table, and proceeded to take care of yourself, running your hands down into your warm flower while crushing your breast. His eyes widened bigger than you've ever seen a smile crept across his face; he took a deep breath, " I fucking love you, so God damn much, you know ?" he started to thrust again in between every thrust he raised his voice " I .. love .. you..so .. fucking ..much ". 

If you enjoyed my work please consider donating to my coffee fund or cash app! Link is in the masterlist.

#otis driftwood #house of 1000 corpses #three from hell #thedevilsrejects #rob zombie #bill moseley #otis firefly #slashers #the devils rejects #otisdriftwood

[xlady-saya]

Hello! I don’t really use this account a whole lot but I wanted to go ahead and make a pinned post, which I’ll hopefully remember to update frequently lol. Anyways, here’s a collection of the fics I’ve written for aftg, andreil, and others so far ^^

progress comes in small steps series [complete]

and we’re just starting to get it [Rated T, 11.1k]

Neil is nothing and everything all at once, the entire universe for Andrew, however small of a universe that is. Even Aaron is starting to see it, though the pieces still don't line up.

And Andrew is trying to convince Aaron that he's never jealous? Yeah right. You don't spend your entire life being denied, being hurt, going through foster care with nothing to call your own only to be okay with someone else trying to take the one bright piece of life you call yours.

Or, Aaron is done with Andrew's shit and makes it his job to prove his brother wrong.

there’s always more to learn [Rated T, 12.3k]

The subject of Katelyn and Neil hasn't felt like dangerous territory in a long time, but Aaron feels the bomb countdown already coming to an end before Bee even opens her mouth.

"Well, the two of them are so alike," Bee goes on, oblivious to the tension leaking into the space. Her smile is pleasant, teasing. "It just goes to show how you and Andrew have similar tastes despite being so different."

The world freezes on its axis.

Andrew inhales a little too loudly the same time Aaron chokes on his spit. "W-What?"

trust is a slow process [Rated T, 7.3k]

If Katelyn had been stealthier, she could've escaped the crowded dance floor without Andrew seeing her.

But of course, she's no Neil.

Or: Katelyn and Andrew spend some unwanted quality time together, and Katelyn sees things for what they are.

someday there won’t be scowls [Rated T, 8.1k]

Neil finds that even with his mind's best efforts to hang onto the wounds of the past, his opinion of Aaron just isn't what it used to be. He can thank Andrew and Katelyn for a lot of it, but his own observations certainly help.

When he sees Aaron like this, the mix of worry and adoration on his face as he thinks of Katelyn, Neil can't help but feel too exposed himself.

It's a start.

I want this touch to be familiar [Rated E, 38.1k]

Deep down, Andrew knew he would always reach this crossroads, a time where the thought became too strong to ignore.

Going all the way with Neil. It's not something he can continue to avoid thinking about. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil's hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he's forced to acknowledge how much he's allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

But that’s not all there is to it, and the desire to make a decision finally makes itself known.

if magic exists, you’re the closest thing [Rated T, 16.2k]

The concept of love is not one Andrew understands.

For a long time, it escaped him. It's always fuzzy, always distorted. He'd given up on it long ago, so why is he still chasing answers?

Whatever the reason, he's content to blame Jean Moreau for a lot of things, Katelyn too.

It's their fault he's here, at the happiest place on earth.

this red is for you [Rated T, 10.8k]

Katelyn never considered herself capable of doling out violence.

It has always been a far away thought, dampened by college courses and late night dates with her boyfriend. She lives a stereotypical life, despite everything she's been through with Aaron. Aside from her growing connection with the notoriously troublesome Foxes, nothing much about her life has changed.

Even then, she's learning she's still able to surprise herself. When Katelyn witnesses Neil defending Andrew, her own protective rage rears its head, ready to be explored.

And maybe that's a good thing.

an unconventional crossing [Rated T, 8.1k]

Aaron likes to believe he and Andrew have a lot more practice navigating their conversations now. And he’s right, mostly. But sometimes, challenges arise at the strangest times, and especially when their significant others are concerned.

In which Andrew and Aaron run into each other at the grocery store, and choose not to part ways.

the roads I traveled with you [Rated T, 35.5k]

When his brother gets engaged, Aaron doesn't expect it to send his head spinning as much as it does. Marriage has always felt like a dream, or a nightmare, one he never thought either of them would be able to achieve.

In that moment, Aaron remembers what he's always known, what keeps his head above water. He wants to be with Katelyn forever. That's never been a question. But marriage hadn't been brought up. For so long it was this abstract concept, a fantasy. He'd always reasoned with himself that it would happen, rationally of course it would, but now...

Now Andrew has made the idea a reality, and Aaron has to confront his own wants for his future.

one shots/multichapters

I’ve had a love of my own [Rated T, ongoing]

Despite everything Neil could’ve imagined for his life, he never thought he’d be here, finally giving the world the interview they’ve always wanted.

It’s been decades, but even with his numerous accolades and sports wins, he finds that they’re the least important thing about his life.

Neil can’t help but laugh. Andrew would be so annoyed if he were here.

Of course, Neil only wants to talk about him, and the life they spent together.

slurred [Rated M, 1.6k]

They're not the type of people to give up control, but with each other they're willing to bend the rules.

growing pains [Rated T, 10.6k]

Stuart knows it’s perfectly normal for teenagers to have crushes. That’s why he’s not surprised in the slightest when Neil starts acting strange; lighter, happier. However, what he doesn’t expect is for the crush to leak into his everyday life—or literally take up residence in his house. Or: five times Stuart knew Neil was hiding a nighttime guest, and one time he actually met him.

your hands are mine to hold [Rated E, 6.7k]

It has taken a long time for Thea to accept a lot of aspects of their past. Her eyes track the fear in Kevin's eyes, emboldened by how his own resolve wears it away year by year. She'll never take that sight for granted.

It's hard to ignore the weights on both of them, with their lives so eaten up by the Exy world and memories of the Nest, but one thing has always remained consistent.

Thea trusts Kevin Day with her everything, and she'll never hesitate to follow him into battle.

better than a night light [Rated T, 7.3k]

Neil hasn’t had the chance to examine the feeling of fear in a long time. He’s all too familiar with it though; from the nightmares, to the memories of a cold basement floor, he knows the feeling like the back of his hand.

But this fear is new, loaded with ridiculousness and a complete lack of reason. It’s nothing more than pixels on a screen, far away theories that can’t hurt him like his past can.

Maybe that’s why he’s beginning to not mind it as much. It doesn’t hurt that Andrew is also there to hold him through it.

Playtime [Rated E, 6.7k]

There was a time when Andrew might've questioned being so into this.

Not anymore.

take what you want [Rated E, 5.4k]

Laila has come a long way from her freshman year, past all the worries and pressure to behave a certain way. She never thought she’d realize it here, lounging poolside with her girlfriend.

The urge to seduce Alvarez is just too good to let go.

a product of absence [Rated T, 7.8k]

It’s funny, Andrew thinks, that this would be seen as a curse in any other situation. Two people, thrown apart by time and circumstances, desperately searching for one another.

But Andrew has never doubted Neil’s return. He’s not running, he’s not worried. It’s perhaps the only waiting game that’s been worth it, that he understands, because this bond with Neil has only ever made sense to him.

In another life, Neil made this much clear: they would always find each other in the end.

here I am, there you go again [Rated T, 17.5k]

There's many things about the past Neil chooses to leave behind, and most of the time it's for the best. For some reason though, his brain can't help but cling to the last memories of him.

"My Ex." Neil bites his tongue at the word, because it never feels right. At this point, so many years later, that man is no one. A stranger. He shouldn't presume to know him anymore than his ex should presume to know Neil.

If he remembers Neil at all.

But Neil should know better than anyone that the past always has a way of catching up to him, and this time, he's not as willing to run as he might've initially thought.

losing battle [Rated M, 3.4k]

It's always been Nicky's dream to be closer with his cousins. However, when he opens Andrew's mail to find more than he bargained for, he finds himself regretting the wish. Unfortunately, no matter how much Andrew's warmed up to him in the last few years, Nicky's pretty sure he'll die (literally) if Andrew finds out.

Nicky's mission begins.

temper, temper [Rated T, 3.7k]

"You paid for the deluxe package," Neil says as he scrolls through his payment history to find his client's invoice. His system is simple:

Basic Package: Fuck you. A general statement of displeasure and a brief description of the wrongdoing.

Intermediate Package: Fuck you, with passion. Everything in the basic package, but with additional insults. Customizable for an extra fee.

Deluxe Package: Fuck you to hell. Everything from the first two packages, for an extended period of time, and with extra viciousness.

And it looks like Andrew Minyard is the unlucky soul today.

a new contract [Rated T, 7.2k]

Neil’s request is simple on its face, but infinitely complicated given his history.

“Convince your team to sign me.”

And this was Andrew’s deal: If Neil can prove that he’s serious, that he can build a new life for himself so that he doesn’t end up crawling back to Riko, Andrew will convince his coach to recommend him for recruitment in the fall.

Yes, it was meant to be black and white…

But Andrew should’ve known better. Nothing ever is.

What a Rush [Rated E, 1.6k]

It's always Andrew's goal to stretch Neil's pleasure to its limits, and he's barely begun to scratch the surface.

locked together [Rated E, 8.3k]

Andrew licks his lips and tugs on the tail of the beast inside him, righting it so it can point him in the direction of what he's searching for. Neil looks good on top of him, panting and giddy, and it's rare that Andrew doesn't want to flip them over and make Neil fall apart.

But...every once in a while...

Well, he's relaxed today. He wants to listen, he wants orders, he wants to be controlled so long as the control comes from Neil.

do you like scary movies? [Rated T, 22.5k]

To say Andrew has never seen the benefit in the make-believe would be a lie. However, he finds less and less use for it as he grows older. He especially fails to see the benefits of anything from the horror genre; he’s made plenty of his own mistakes, has seen more than enough to terrify him in his life. He doesn’t need to rely on jump scares and idiotic protagonists.

But when he meets Neil, self-proclaimed horror archivist, he finds that maybe he never gave the genre the credit it was due, and he ends up thanking the dull movies eventually…

They lead him to Neil, the realest thing he’s ever known.

#aftg #andreil #my fics #my writing #all for the game #kateaaron #kevthea #other pairings

[cafeinthemoon]

It Takes Courage - Chapter I

Title: It Takes Courage

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: Tobirama Senju x reader

Rating: Teen | up

Word count: 1522

Chapter (s): 1/4

Warnings: none

Symbols: ✔ | ➕ | 🔺 | ▶▶

You were not the first to apply for that job, and you knew it. In fact, since news spread fast in Konoha, you’ve been properly informed that you were the fourth person to occupy the position of assistant of the Second Hokage in a few months. Yes, in less than a year three other people were chosen to the position, but they could not hold it for too long. If it was due to their lack of competence, you couldn’t tell, but because you’ve heard the news, you were sure of one thing: it takes more than just competence for one to work – to keep working – with the younger Senju brother. It takes patience. Resilience. And courage.

A lot of courage.

It was something you discovered for yourself right on your first day. You were brought to his presence as soon as you arrived. It wasn’t that you have no confidence in your capacity, but when you’ve heard that your assessment would be handled by Tobirama Senju himself, and from it you got enough reasons to have your hands shaking: the fact is that his demanding – not to say difficult – nature was equal to his reputation as shinobi, and he never made it a secret. The man was hard at work, and he expected nothing less from the ones who worked by his side; and now you were assigned as one of his closest personnel, which meant you were going to have his eyes on all your movements.

However, you weren’t expecting this: your assessment would be finished in two days. The Hokage said that he was going to give you a basic task list and explain your duties, then you were going to perform the mentioned tasks under his supervision. In other words, if your performance was good enough, the job was yours.

- It is not difficult at all – he stated – All you need to do is to pay attention to what I say and to focus on what is in front of you. Once you get used to this, you will be capable of handling anything else.

You just nodded to show you agreed with the conditions, but somewhere in your mind there was a voice screaming that if everything was so easy, why did he have to look for a fourth assistant in so little time? When you raised your eyes to him, however, you made your best efforts to bury this thought on the depths of your mind: you weren’t sure if he was capable of reading minds, but you sensed that, as observant man, his analyzing skills could be used in a way that not being careful on what you think when you’re under his eye was a bad idea.

Fortunately for you, he made no comments about what you might be thinking nor mentioned the fact that you were not his first assistant, probably because you already knew it, but you decided to believe it was because you needed to draw your own path on this and digging into the previous workers’ experiences would not help you at all. They had nothing to do with you.

When you came back home by the end of that day, your parents were waiting for you. Of course they gave you some time to rest and eat instead of attacking you with a bunch of questions, but you saw it coming anyway, so when they sat with you in the living room, it wasn’t a big surprise; in fact, you already knew what they were going to ask.

- So, how was your day, y/n? – your mother started – I hope everything was okay.

You gave her a brief, positive reply.

Now it was your father’s turn. He was always more specific with information seeking than your mother.

- Are not you going to tell us about your first day on the new job, dear? Was it too difficult? Too easy? How did the Hokage treat you?

Yes, that was your father: always asking the right questions, never playing around. You wish you could’ve had more time to think about your day before answering so many questions at once, but you did your best with what you had.

- Though I had more things to do than I did in my previous jobs, I can’t say it was that difficult. You know, father, it’s not like I’ve never had to deal with paper in my life. I think it’s just a question of time... I mean, for gaining experience and for adaptation.

You tried not to give them much details, because your own vision of the facts were still to settle. Besides, you avoided to answer your father’s last question: you could even say you had some of your opinions on Tobirama confirmed, but it was too soon to make any statement, since you knew him just as the Hokage and not as a person, and he didn’t know you too; he just knew your resume.

Unfortunately for you, your father was a persistent man.

- Yes, that’s good, that’s good – he started – But I wanted to know more about…

Now you couldn’t contain your exasperation.

- I understand you worries, father, but honestly, they are a bit unfounded, since we’re talking about the Hokage here, right? – you then added a smile to diminish the harshness of your first words – It’s still too soon to be sure of anything, but all I can say for now is that we have nothing to worry about. Tobirama-sama is a professional and a respectable man. He’s not much of a talker, so we only exchanged the necessary words. He’s smart and articulated. He has no difficulties to make himself clear, and he’s one of the most practical people when it comes to doing what needs to be done. I believe this is not so different from what everyone says about him, isn’t it?

One look at your father and you saw he was satisfied. But, well, you couldn’t help but finishing your description with what’s been around your mind all the day.

- However, he’s not the sweetest person I’ve ever met.

Your parents’ reaction to this latter comment were nothing like you expected: both your mother and your father just laughed at the bitterness on your tone. You were never the type to say bad things about others or curse, specially when you barely knew the object of your talking; so that was the hardest thing you were capable to say about Tobirama Senju.

Still, that was your opinion, and you wanted it to be respected at least on your house. You soon got mad at their laughter.

- What’s so funny?

When they finally ceased the laughing, your mother was the first to speak.

- The Hokage must have been too bad for our girl to make her saying these awful things about him!

You were about to reply, when your father, more controlled, explained:

- Y/n, dear, we all know he’s not like his brother, Hashirama. We simply cannot expect to get along with him since the start. It takes time for one to get to know him, and to get used to him. But try to see things through his eyes. Tobirama-sama belongs to another generation, one with a different vision of life and a different way of raising kids. His early life was not like yours. He was never given the chance to be… how could I put it in words... to be soft, you understand?

While you were quiet, processing your father’s words, your mother, whose smile tempered her words, added to his observations:

- And, yes, you could point out that his brother’s life was as hard as his own, but consider that they’re not the same. Every person has their own way to respond to what life puts in their way, and we cannot expect everyone to always agree with each other’s responses. See ourselves as an example – she made a gesture to indicate you three – Your father and I still find reasons to argue after all these years, and we find reasons to disagree with you sometimes.

After hearing all of this in silence, and despite you were convinced your reasons weren’t as simple as they thought, you decided you couldn’t argue with their logic, at least not at that moment. You were a bit tired, and now that you had other opinions to examine alongside yours, you saw that some of the reasons you’d use to defend your own would honestly sound a little petty, and even childish, if you’ve said them out loud. Still, you didn’t believe your mother’s example was appropriate to the case, since you were talking about personality, but you didn’t mention that. Besides, you thought that our experiences should not interfere in the way we deal with others, specially when they had nothing to do with our problems. And you said that to your parents.

Your father nodded.

- You’re right, dear, but well, give him a chance. It’s just your first day, right?

You said you would try. You kissed them and went to your room.

#naruto #naruto fanfiction #tobirama #tobirama senju #tobirama senju x reader #reader insert fanfic #ao3 fanfic #tobirama x reader

[navigatrixnarrations]

A Matter of Some Urgency (version)

Because my brain is Like That, I dashed off another version of the first meeting of our disaster pirates, this time from Hope’s perspective.

As always, bigger-than-life appreciation for @whenimaunicorn. Her incredible The Heart of Admiration series thus far can be found here.

Word count: 1679

Warnings: None

Hope Wickham pauses outside the tavern. She is not fully convinced that she’ll be able to save the lives of her crewmates. For that matter, she is not entirely certain she’ll leave this meeting with her own life, but she has to try. To her shock, her crew elected her quartermaster, a position to which she had most certainly not nominated herself, and now it’s her duty to protect them as best she can.

When she asked her old friend DeGroot to set up an urgent meeting with the captain of the Ranger, the man had made a wry face. “Ready to move on from Fisher, are you? Find work with a captain who has true technical sailing skill?” She shrugged noncommittally, not wanting to let on her real purpose but not willing to lie to him. DeGroot, she knew from her apprenticeship, is not one to give compliments easily or falsely. “True technical sailing skill” is as ringing an endorsement as anyone could ask for.

“What manner of man is Captain Vane?”

DeGroot looked thoughtful. “I’m sure you’ve heard his reputation as a brute and a brawler, and it’s well-deserved, but he keeps his word. Sailed with Teach for years. Respects skill. Deals fairly with those who deal fairly with him. You wouldn’t be the only woman on his crew.”

He returned shortly after with the message to meet Vane at the tavern, as soon as she could get there. And so there was nothing for it but to trust DeGroot’s assessment of the man, square her shoulders, and try to make an entrance to remember.

Years on the account had taught Hope that dealing with other pirates as a small-boned woman requires a certain amount of swaggering bravado. She flings open the tavern door, cocks one hip out, and stands there for a moment, silhouetted, as she scans the room for a man matching the description DeGroot had given her. Ah, there he is, watching her approach his table in an alcove at the rear of the room. She feels an unexpected jolt in her stomach as she locks eyes with him, but this wouldn’t be the first time she’s had to ignore her nerves, would it.

"Captain Vane?"

He nods, and she continues. "I'm quartermaster of the Starling. I believe you're expecting me." She removes the pistol and long knife from her belt and places them on the table in front of him, a sign that she has come in peace.

He gestures for her to sit across from him and signals the barmaid to bring her a drink then gives her a hard look from beneath his brow. "What's this about?" He could sand the deck with his voice, she thinks, but it isn’t unpleasant to the ear.

"A certain item of yours has come into my possession. I'm here to return it to you." She hands him a burlap sack containing his black. She had been appalled when a couple of the more rambunctious members of her crew came back to camp having stolen it from the Ranger. It wouldn't do for them, new to Nassau, to start their time here by making an enemy of the most notoriously violent captain on the island.

Vane looks inside the sack to examine his colors. Hope had ensured it wasn’t damaged, and she had folded it carefully. When he comes to that conclusion as well, he turns that heavy gaze back to her. "What do they call you, quartermaster of the Starling?"

She meets his piercing stare with her own, unflinching. "They probably call me a lot of things when I can't hear them." She is sure she sees him suppress a smile at that. So the man has a sense of humor beneath that steely demeanor. Good. She holds out her hand for a shake. "Hope Wickham."

"Why did your captain send you, Miss Wickham, instead of approaching me himself?"

She frowns, but doesn't rise to the bait. "He didn't send me," she says coolly. "He has no idea any of this happened. I'm meeting with you of my own accord and in my own capacity to try to protect my crew."

Vane’s silence as he sips his ale has a pointed quality to it. He’s waiting for her to elaborate.

"I may be new to Nassau, but I'm by no means new to the account. Captain Fisher and the rest of the crew are used to doing things a certain way, and don't yet understand that Nassau has rather different understandings of acceptable behavior for those under the black than does Tortuga. On Tortuga, this would be seen as a prank by a new crew seeking to position itself and a score easily settled without much bloodshed. Unlike them, I know that is not the way of things here."

Vane narrows his eyes. "How do you know how we do things here?"

"I apprenticed with Mr. DeGroot. We stay in touch." The corners of her mouth turn up in a wry smile, unable to contain her amusement at the absurdity of the situation. "I realize that he is nobody's first, second, or tenth choice for a tutor in etiquette, but," she gestures broadly, "we live in a world of wonders."

She’s gratified to see Vane smiling back at her, ever so slightly. It changes his entire face, and she can almost imagine that they are having a friendly drink together. "So you're a trained navigator, then?"

"I am."

He also seems to remember that this is not a social call. The smile drops from his face, which returns to its forbidding scowl, and he hunches forward enough to give the impression of looming over her without getting up. For a moment she wonders if he’s going to lunge across the table and attack her. "Members of your crew snuck onto my ship, stole my black, and they did it so badly that someone saw them getting away. So let me tell you what happens next."

Hope has learned to never, ever show fear when facing down a man, so she doesn't quail from his ferocious growl, from his coiled posture that makes him appear to be a predator about to pounce. Only long practice allows her to meet his icy glare directly. "Who saw them?"

"My quartermaster and his matelotage." Is he taken aback by the question? He’s clearly a man used to being obeyed. Yet he answered her...

She tilts her head, considering. "Anyone else?"

Vane grunts and leans back in his chair. "No."

Hope nods to herself. "Can you trust their discretion?"

"With my life." She sees him follow the course she’s plotted with her questions. "You're going to ask who else on my crew knows it was gone."

She shrugs as if to say you caught me. "Well, who else does?"

"Only them." She opens her mouth to speak but he cuts her off. "Regardless, you know I cannot let your crew's insult go unanswered. I’ve a reputation to maintain, a captaincy I do not intend to lose."

"Nor do I expect you to. However, by returning your black undamaged, along with compensation for the," she pauses and bites her lip, considering her next words, "inconvenience you've been put through by this unfortunate breach of propriety, I trust this need not be a killing offense." She takes a bulging coin purse from her coat pocket and pushes it across the table to him.

Vane opens it and quirks a scarred brow at the amount of coin within. "Is this from the Starling's collective savings?"

"No. It's my personal share from our last prize." It had been a lucky take, that last prize, larger than most of the Starling’s, but there’s no reason to tell Vane that.

He places both hands on the table and leans forward abruptly. Hope feels her eyes widen as she assesses the threat and she quickly schools her expression. Vane’s voice drops to a near-whisper that puts her in mind of a cat’s purr. "My turn to ask the questions. Who else knows that your crew had my black?"

She leans forward as well, close enough to take in details of the trinkets braided into his long hair. "As far as I know, nobody." She keeps her voice as low as his, matter-of-fact. "My crew hasn't bragged, because they didn't get a chance to parade your colors on the beach. I made certain of that. And they won't now, not after I've relieved them of it. The ones who took your black are young and foolish. I've revoked their shore privileges for the time being, until they can show they won’t be shitheads to other crews if they come into town." Oh, they hadn't liked it at all, being returned to the Starling to assist the carpenters with some much-needed repairs to the ship while their brothers celebrated the take in Nassau, but they stopped complaining when Hope explained in a reasonable tone that the alternative was approaching Vane themselves to return his black. Or perhaps they wished for Vane to seek them out?

Vane’s expression turns pensive for a moment as he mulls over what she told him. "They know you're returning it to me?"

Hope forces herself to continue to meet that intense blue stare. "Yes. If they don't like it, they can elect a new quartermaster. However, they agreed when I explained my reasoning as to why keeping it would not be in their best interests."

"And DeGroot. Does he know why you asked him to arrange a meeting?"

"He didn't ask. I didn't tell." She lets out a laugh at the memory of DeGroot’s dismayed yet proud expression when he thought she was going to work for his captain’s foremost rival. “I let him think I'm here to ask you for a job, just to irritate him."

A long moment passes as she watches Vane weigh his options. Has she convinced him?

He pushes the purse back across the table to Hope. "Keep it. Buy the next round and we'll call it square."

#charles vane x oc #charles vane x ofc #whenimaunicorn #black sails fic #the heart of admiration fic #charles vane imagine

[belladxne]

i will see you where the shadow ends | chapter 6

[see notes for ao3 and ff links]

part of the put your faith in the light that you cannot see series AU: Breath of the Wild pairing: KiriBaku word count: 5,304

chapter 6: it’s getting late, and i cannot seem to find my way home tonight

Paragliding is absolutely exhilarating. Eijiro would be whooping in delight if he weren’t almost immediately breathless from the thrill of it, his blood pumping loudly in his ears.

In the brief moment of freefall after he’d hopped off the plateau, his heart had lodged itself somewhere in his throat, and then when he’d snapped the paraglider taut his stomach had gone plummeting out of his body. But like, in a good way, unlike when the tower had rocketed up into the air and launched him with it. Even with the slight strain in his arms from holding onto the glider, this is the most fun he’s ever had in his life.

Oh, he can’t wait to just start leaping off of things—of anything. This feels awesome. This feels right.

He encounters his first moblin directly east of the plateau. He recognizes the towering, monstrous creature about ten or so seconds before he plants his boots directly on its face. They crash to the ground one after the other, but Eijiro’s smaller and it makes him more agile, and he rolls to his feet with his sword out in under a second.

It’s probably just the adrenaline rush leftover from his flight down, but Eijiro grins, bright and feral. He’s lucky enough, or the moblin’s disoriented enough, that the fight’s over in seconds and Eijiro’s blood is singing with the accomplishment.

The rest of the night’s trek doesn’t go so easy. Traveling at night is worse, it’s always worse, and he knew that when he stuffed as many supplies as he could into his new bag and leapt off the plateau, but there’s no way he could have managed to stay still tonight. But, hey, he doesn’t have to now, because as soon as the sun dips below the horizon, stalkoblins are popping up from the ground to harry him. And not once, but twice as he tries to follow the road through the ruins he gets swarmed by two separate clouds of keese.

If he almost blows himself up throwing a bomb at the second cloud as they’re swooping for his head, well, at least there’s no one to witness it.

By the time he’s reached the bridge down the road from the plateau, it’s been well over an hour and Eijiro is tired, and achy, and frustrated. There had been two more moblins in the mix of monsters inhabiting the ruins that dotted the roads, and Eijiro had been confronted once again with the fact that things are not as they should be. That he is not as he should be.

It’s like he knows exactly what to do, what all their weak points are, how they’re going to come at him, but his body can’t keep up with his knowledge. It feels like he’s done this a million times, only this time he’s just a little slower than he’s always been, or he somehow misses the place he was swinging for with his sword, or, worse, he gets the timing correct and the aim right and he just doesn’t hit as hard as he should.

He gets what Inko was saying about him not having fully recovered from his slumber, and he hates the feeling of weakness even more than the bumps and bruises that form because of it.

When the shrine just to the right of his side of the bridge starts peeking out, Eijiro almost groans. He thinks he’s spent around an hour and a half just getting this far—and it’s not far at all, it’s really not; he can still see the Great Plateau over the tops of the ruins he’s just fought through—and the thought of using his brain to puzzle his way through another exhaustive trial is not at all appealing.

But he doesn’t know when he’ll be back here next, if he’ll be back again at all, so he sighs and treks up to the shrine.

It’s well and truly dark out by the time Eijiro emerges from the shrine, more than a little put out to not at least have gotten a new rune for his trouble. It’s late but not that late, and he entertains the thought, briefly, of setting up camp in the nook that surrounds the elevator into the shrine.

It would be sheltered on three sides, both from the wind and from the sight of any more monsters that stray near, so it wouldn’t be the worst place to set up. Eijiro considers it for maybe fifteen seconds, but—but even bruised and frustrated, Eijiro wants to keep going. He’s weary after two very full days back to back but he isn’t tired, and he’s still impatient to get to Kakariko Village. He’s impatient to help Katsuki and Izuku already.

He adjusts his bag, double checks which of his weapons he needs to worry about breaking in the middle of a fight, and sets off across the bridge.

There’s a man on the bridge keeping vigil over a lifeless guardian in the near distance, openly terrified it’s going to spring back to life and start firing lasers everywhere—Eijiro can’t exactly fault him for that—who gives Eijiro directions to Kakariko and lectures him emphatically about staying as far from Hyrule Castle as possible. Eijiro doesn’t see the point in telling the guy he’s not gonna follow his advice, but the man seems just as desperate for real interactions with other people as Eijiro is, so Eijiro lingers as long as he can bring himself to, making small talk with him before he carries on.

There’s another tower of Sheikah make, like the one on the Great Plateau, that stands right at the foot of the Dueling Peaks. It’s absolutely dwarfed by their size, and he feels like placing it right next to such massive formations almost defeats the purpose of making a tower at all. He wishes he could say he reaches it at a better pace than he reached the bridge, but by the time he disposes of all the monsters—living and skeletal—that try to bar his path, swims across the river, and scales his way up the Sheikah tower, it’s been just as long.

He’s genuinely tired now, and almost any way he moves has his body complaining in a multitude of ways, but he doesn’t want to stop. He just—he just wants to finally feel like he’s making real progress, and for the three hours he’s spent traveling, he feels like he’s gotten nowhere.

Unfortunately, he’s all but swaying on his feet by the time he’s placing his Sheikah Slate into the tower’s pedestal and watching as the blue liquid drips onto the screen. Once again he’s gifted with a map of the entire region, a chunk two or three times the size of the Great Plateau just to the right of it. He can barely keep his eyes open as he examines the new information, plotting out his course to Kakariko.

Part of him wants to scream at the fact that he’s not even halfway there, even though it hasn’t even been five hours since he left the Great Plateau. That part of him demands he push onwards, make more progress, but…

In his state, it might not be long before he just passes out on the road, without finding somewhere safe to sleep. And that’s if a monster doesn’t take advantage of his exhaustion before he reaches that point. Ugh, he hates having a little bit of common sense and a faint sense of self preservation.

Before he finally caves to his internal debate on his need for sleep, the slate makes a new sound from its spot in the pedestal, and Eijiro blinks at a new icon that pops up—not on the map itself, but on the same tab as the map. Sheikah Sensor, it reads, and a message on the screen appears that informs him that the slate will now beep at him when he’s near to a shrine and facing towards it.

Honestly, that probably will be helpful—but not now. He plucks the Sheikah Slate from the pedestal, and finally admits to himself that he needs rest.

Eijiro drops down to the highest rest platform before the top area of the tower, so that at least he’s sheltered by the low walls on a few sides, pulls a blanket from Inko’s tiny cabin out of his bag, and does his best to curl up and get comfortable. It really says something that he falls asleep almost the moment his eyes are closed, despite the hard stone beneath him and the wind still whipping past.

Tomorrow, he’s gotta get serious. He needs to get to Kakariko Village, to figure out his next step.

Eijiro awakens stiff and cold, with several muscles protesting at the uncomfortable angle they’d spent the night in, but at least he feels more or less rested apart from that.

It’s early, and there’s nothing he longs for more than to be in a bed so he can pull the covers over his head and knock out for a few more hours, but unfortunately he is awake and he knows he’ll have the energy to keep going for a while. Packing up his makeshift resting spot quickly, Eijiro’s stomach gives an impressively thunderous rumble. He mentally rifles through all the food that he has in his bag but… but, fuck, dude.

He had to swim through a cold river, at night, to climb this tower and sleep in the wind and dark, and he’s stiff and chilly and doesn’t want to be awake and is it so much to ask for a warm, freshly-cooked breakfast? It’s not, of course, but the problem is he’s going to have to cook it himself. He passed a cooking pot about fifteen minutes back from the tower, across the river, but now he has to debate between his impatience for progress and his desire for a hot meal.

He only has to think of Inko’s frowning face after she worked so hard to teach him to cook so he’d be taken care of, and the desire for a hot meal wins.

Eijiro climbs back up to the top of the tower, just for that extra height when he launches himself off of it, paragliding back down towards the cooking pot. That never gets less awesome—this time he does whoop for joy, hoping no nearby monsters come to investigate the sound. The wind whipping his clothes around him and ruffling his hair somehow gives him a sense of both peace and gleefulness at the same time, like he was born to just jump off of things left and right.

He touches down on the other side of the river without ever having to touch the water this time, a relief as he’s still warming up from going to sleep damp from last night’s swim. It’s quicker to get back to the cooking pot than he remembers from the night before, which he mostly attributes to not having to fight stalkoblins every few steps but…

Well, he might have to concede he’s been slowing himself down by stopping to pick every edible or potentially useful plant just to see how much he can fit in his pack. (The answer: a lot, he’s discovered.)

He’s still eager to get moving and doesn’t want to waste a long time, so he throws together a hastily-cooked omelet with hylian mushrooms and hyrule herb. He considers adding a spicy pepper to help him recover from his cold night but—actually, he’s got blisters forming in his mouth from how spicy Inko had made the food yesterday, so he should probably lay off the peppers for a day or so.

He settles instead for eating the omelet fresh off of the pot, shoveling it down still hot, and he’s barely even started to chew the huge final bite he’d shoved in his mouth before he’s lurching to his feet. The Dueling Peaks, cleft down the middle, rise huge and imposing nearby, and he’s determined to make it through them with good time this morning.

He stares up at what he can see of the Dueling Peaks through the trees that crowd the road, and for some reason all he can think of is how it’s said that the peaks used to be one singular mountain, until a dragon split it into two to create an easier path to travel. Sure, there’s a river that cuts through the gap between the peaks that could be a less fantastic explanation, but Eijiro doesn’t think it makes sense for the river to be what actually cut the mountain in half. Maybe it could create a cave through it, fine, but the river couldn’t cut up a mountain, all the way to the top.

The way he thinks about it, it feels like it’s an argument he’s had countless times. He wishes he could remember the significance. He wishes he even knew who he’d be arguing it with.

He just wants to remember anything about his actual life, and it’s a longing he can’t shake as he enters the shadowed path between the two mountains. In this morning’s trek, things become easier, at least for a little bit. In the shadow between the Dueling Peaks, less things grow for him to get distracted gathering and shoving into his bag, and he makes quick progress down the path at first, with his new Sheikah Sensor chiming at him the whole way to let him know there’s a shrine ahead.

Of course, why would he expect anything to be easy, though, right? It goes smoothly right up until he finally sees the glowing orange of the shrine up ahead—on the other side of the river, on a cliff that stands maybe twenty-five or thirty feet up the inside of the other peak. His detour for a warm breakfast left him on the wrong side of the river.

He’s already made the swim before, it’s not that he can’t make it across, but the river was cold yesterday and he knows it will be cold now. And besides that—he can see a disturbance in the water, almost directly in between him and the shrine, betraying two creatures swimming very fast just under the surface.

Lizalfos, his mind supplies, without even having to see them to confirm. Monsters that are agile, intelligent, and very dangerous to fight at the best of times, but when there’s a water source, they won’t come out of the river to where he can fight them. It makes them at least twice as dangerous.

Just as he’s considering how he might be able to get across without swimming—he wants to avoid backtracking as much as possible, so waiting for the bridge much farther down the path is out of the question—and wondering if using his cryonis pillars would be colder or warmer than the swim itself, he hears a loud splash and the telltale sound of something whistling through the air.

Eijiro barely rolls out of the way before the rock spat at him by an octorok farther upstream smashes into the place he’d just been standing. The movement catches the eye of the nearest lizalfos, which then pops its head out of the water, rearing back to spit a concentrated stream of water at him he just knows is going to sting.

“Fuck it.”

He doesn’t have time to swim—the lizalfos will be much faster than him in the water, and he can’t fight the current and dodge the octorok’s stones—so he whips out the slate and makes a pillar directly below his feet in the shallows of the river. From there, it’s a mad scramble to make ice columns ahead to jump to, rushing to make the leaps in time to dodge projectiles and water blasts. It’s probably the least cool or competent he’s ever looked or felt, slipping around on the tops of the columns and narrowly avoiding getting knocked the fuck out by hurtling stones that are bigger than his head.

As soon as he’s across, he’s dragging himself up the interior of the peak, trying to reach the ledge the shrine rests on, and the lizalfos lose interest fast but he still almost gets his head taken off by the octorok. Why the hell are those things so persistent?

When he finally sprawls on the travel gate at the door to the shrine, panting and reaching awkwardly up to press his slate to the pedestal from where he lays, all Eijiro can think is, this shrine had better be worth it.

Disappointingly, like the last shrine, Ree Dahee Shrine doesn’t offer him another rune.

What it does have, however, is a hidden chest containing a bandana that, apparently, is enchanted to make its wearer scale cliffs faster. Thinking of the perilous climb just to get to this shrine while under fire, yeah, he’s glad to have it.

It’s almost an hour and a half later by the time he emerges from the shrine, and the lizalfos and octorok have thankfully all forgotten him by then. He’s beginning to get that distracting feeling buzzing under his skin again, now that two more monks from the last two shrines have gifted him their strength or whatever, and he hopes he won’t have to go all the way back to the Temple of Time just to alleviate that feeling once more.

If he does, it’s going to be a while before he’s willing to head back that way.

Gliding down from the shrine, Eijiro hurries forward, determined not to slow down any more than he has to.

It’s over half an hour before he emerges from the other side of the gap between the Dueling Peaks, the sunlight finally beating against his skin again. The side of the river with the well-worn path had been devoid of monsters for once, probably because regular travelers kept it that way—but the damn shrine had put him on the side without the path, and he’s got a few new scrapes and bruises and a much nicer sword for his troubles in dispatching what monsters had blocked his way.

Apart from the sunlight, Eijiro’s greeted by the most welcome sight of all—people. Not a lot of them, but—well, more than any he’s seen so far. There’s a stable set up at a fork in the road, with at least eight people milling around tending to the horses or their own pursuits, and a couple more people coming and going.

He’s only seen, like, three people since waking up—and one of them was a spirit, and another was just someone he saw at a distance, walking along the other side of the river. Now, he can see ten of them—men and women and children and—wow, okay, it’s so nice to see people.

He wants to shout and wave and maybe cry a little as he runs towards them like a man who’s been lost in the woods for months with no sign of civilization—well, close enough, right? A hundred years underground without seeing another person was surely grounds to act like that. He stays calm, though, apart from picking up his pace to an eager jog, to a point of entirely bypassing another shrine that sits on this side of the peaks, just across the path from the stable.

He can get to that later. He can talk to people now.

Altogether, if Eijiro’s being honest, he’s spent… too much time lingering here, especially after his determination not to waste time.

In his defense, the day had been young when he’d arrived—maybe only half an hour past noon? With the sun not even at its peak, it hadn’t seemed as pressing to hurry on his way immediately, not when he finally has a chance to talk to some other living, breathing people. He has the opportunity to try and get a sense of what the world—what life—is like now, in the wake of the Calamity, but more than that he can just get a sense of normalcy from being around actual civilization again.

Eijiro doesn’t have to have his memories to be acutely aware that he is, and will always be, a social creature. Just being around other people is a comfort. He soaks up the company and just the very existence of a remaining pocket of normalcy with eager relief, chatting with everyone he can and happily listening to the conversations of everyone around him.

He’s flagged down almost immediately by a stable worker offering directions, which he doesn’t really need but that doesn’t stop him from pressing for all the information he can get about Hateno to the east, Kakariko to the north, and even the wild horses that roam the area. With how much he doesn’t remember, with how much he doesn’t know about everything that’s changed, any information could be important.

After that, another man working the counter at the entrance to the stable gives Eijiro some tips about how to catch wild horses, and explains how registering horses at their network of stables across Hyrule works. He chats with a couple of little kids by the horses—well, mostly just sits and lets them chatter to him as they like.

A quiet, timid boy around his age—shit, what is his age?—with a massive, beetle-shaped backpack introduces himself as Koda and informs Eijiro that he’s a merchant who travels all around Hyrule to meet new and interesting bugs and creatures, so the odds of them seeing each other again are high. When Eijiro questions what he means by ‘meeting’ the creatures, he learns that Koda has magic that lets him talk with animals, and Eijiro wastes no time impressing upon him how cool that is. It would be kickass to be able to talk to, like, a wolf or a bear or something.

Koda takes the praise with a squeak and a furious blush, waving it off almost frantically, so Eijiro decides to spare the boy more embarrassment by letting it go—but really, it’s cool.

Letting Koda resume his conversation with his beetle collection, Eijiro introduces himself to a woman a few years older next, who tells him her name is Awata. She mentions making elixirs to him offhandedly, and looks concerned when he asks her about it—she seems to think it’s a miracle he’s made it to the stable in the first place without knowing about them. She gives him a quick verbal crash course, and Eijiro sees Koda shoot her a distressed look when she explains that most bugs and a few small critters can be boiled with monster parts to make them.

She also gives Eijiro a hasty elixir, which he takes with some mixture of suspicion and gratitude. He’s just not gonna think about what’s in there. If it helps him run faster, he doesn’t need to know if he’s drinking, like, boiled down keese eyeballs and slugs or something. He also makes a mental note never to make or drink an elixir in front of Koda. He’s not a monster.

It feels like he’s barely had time to blink before nearly thirty minutes have passed and all he’s done is hang around the stable chatting with anyone who’ll put up with him. The shrine just across the road from the stable still sits there, glowing orange in reminder that he really ought to get it done and get moving, but there’s just one more person at the stable who he wants to talk to before he forces himself to leave this bubble of normalcy.

There’s someone who’s pulled a stool up to a crate just left of the stable, and has notebooks littering the top of that crate like a desk. In front of them sits a telescope that’s gone untouched since Eijiro’s been here, but they still toss frequent glances skyward as they sit unmoving at their little makeshift study, consumed by thought.

“Uh… excuse me?” Eijiro prompts, to try and gain their attention. He can’t really tell if they’re a man or a woman, but it doesn’t really matter—to him, or in general.

They startle slightly, turning to blink up at him. “Oh—sorry, I was lost in thought. I didn’t notice you there. Did you need something?” With them actually facing him, he can make out more about their appearance—they’re around thirty, as best as he can guess, and despite their shortish, messy black hair falling into their face, he can see their eyes well enough to tell they’re a shade of brown so dark it’s almost black, though there are flecks of what look like a lighter blue catching the light. It kind of reminds him of a night sky.

“No, it’s cool, sorry for startling you,” Eijiro assures quickly, beaming to drive home that he didn’t feel ignored or anything. “I’m Kirishima Eijiro, and I was just curious—” He gestures towards the entirety of the space they’ve claimed. “—you’ve got a whole setup here. Mind if I ask what you’re working on?”

They smile, clearly not bothered by being interrupted. If anything, they look pleased by the interest. “No, I don’t mind at all. Nice to meet you, Kirishima—my name is Hirooki Anakuro. I’d love to explain a little! I’m mostly tracking the movement of different celestial bodies; I’ve figured out the patterns of movement of a few of the figures above us, but I’m primarily focused on the moon.”

A slightly closer look at Hirooki’s notebooks reveals a lot of quickly jotted notes, star charts, and a few other sketches that Eijiro mostly can’t make sense of at first glance. “The moon?” he asks, curiously. “Why the moon specifically?”

“With enough understanding of how most celestial bodies move, I think it’s actually possible to predict when the next blood moon is. Well—I know it is. It’s just a matter of spreading the information, so travelers don’t get caught unaware when it happens.”

“Blood moon?” Eijiro asks. The term isn’t familiar, and his brow furrows.

Hirooki blinks at him, their already large eyes growing wider. “You don’t know the blood moon? Surely you’ve seen it? When the moon unexpectedly rises full and red, and stains the entire sky the same grim, bloody color at exactly midnight?”

Eijiro stares. When the moon what now? “I… no?”

Seeming entirely taken aback by this, Hirooki leans back slightly in their seat. “It’s been happening every so often for one hundred years now. It poses a very real threat to travelers, because in that moment when the sky turns red, any monsters who have been defeated across all of Hyrule are revived right where they stood. Whenever a blood moon happens, areas that had been previously made safe become a hazard all over again.”

That shocks him—brings monsters back? But that’s… he’d fought so many just to get here, because he thought it would make the countryside safer for travelers. All the monsters he’d dispatched instead of avoiding in the ruins that led here—they’d just come back to endanger someone else? “They really come back to life?”

Hirooki nods gravely. “You’ve really never noticed this phenomenon?”

“I… guess I must have slept through them all,” he says, staring down at his feet. It’s the understatement of the century, he knows—seriously, because he’s been sleeping for all of the century that they’ve been happening. This… this explains a lot about the state Hyrule’s in, almost moreso than the destruction it faced one hundred years before.

Of course people are so sparse. Of course there are so many more monsters than there should be. People can’t spread out and retake any of the kingdom—not without the areas they’d retaken becoming infested again, as soon as another blood moon happens.

Hirooki doesn’t seem to think it’s an unrealistic explanation, at least, despite their surprise. “Well, I suppose if you’ve spent most of your life someplace safe, there probably wouldn’t be much reason to take note. But the question of why and how have been plaguing most travelers for decades now. I have my own theories about that, but I’m still much more focused on when. I think when could save lives. It doesn’t correlate to any particular phase of the moon, or happen every cycle, so most people don’t know when to prepare.”

Eijiro nods—he can see why that would be important. “Yeah, I can imagine. You said you have theories about why, though?”

“Yes, well. They’re mostly afterthoughts, since they’re not my area of specialty,” Hirooki explains. “So I haven’t put a lot of research into these theories, and they’re mostly a secondary line of thought. But monsters seem to be more powerful in the darkness—it’s why you see long-fallen monsters rising in their undead stal forms at night, but not any other time. Or, rarely, in areas that have no light even in the daytime.”

Leaning forward again, they tap at their knee in thought. “So my suspicion is that the blood moon isn’t what causes the dead monsters to rise—you see, the blood moon coincides with lunar eclipses, when the sun is blocked from reflecting light off of the moon. With the night darker than it normally gets, my thought is that something is taking advantage of that increased darkness, and using it to revive them. The Calamity itself, probably. Of course, I can’t be sure of any of the rest of this theory—but I am sure that the blood moon only occurs during lunar eclipses.”

That definitely does make sense, though—eclipses have always happened, Eijiro knows that much. Eclipses bringing monsters back from the dead, though, only started at the same time the Calamity had struck. “That’s… crazy. I mean, the whole blood moon thing is. But I think you’ve gotta be right.”

“I think it’s likely,” Hirooki agrees, glancing back over their notes. “If you’re not going to be taking a bed at the stable for the next few nights, Kirishima, I recommend you be very careful. I don’t have the exact pattern down yet, but if I’m right, the next blood moon will happen soon. So be smart on the road. It’s not something you want to catch you by surprise.”

Shuddering at the thought, Eijiro can’t agree more.

#kiribaku #bakushima #krbk #bkshm #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijiro #bakugo katsuki #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 14 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Chapter warnings: implied character death. Entrapment

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr

Chapter 14: History

"Sweetie, could you hand me the socket wrench? I think it's somewhere to your left…" a woman asked as she looked up from the device she was creating to glance at her daughter calmly reading on a worn couch about twenty yards behind her.

The girl being addressed sighed but complied with the request. She moved to a nearby tablet and quickly began searching through various stacks of blueprints of various inventions yet to be invented to find the tool which was possibly lurking underneath. "Mom!" she called out rather sheepishly a few moments later, "which one is it again?"

"It's the silver one that looks like it has a nozzle on the end."

"Well… that's not very specific."

A few moments later, the girl came over to the woman's workbench and produced a few different tools. Chuckling, the woman grabbed the needed tool, placed to others on a nearby table, and thanked her daughter. Quickly, she began tightening a nut needed to keep her project together. It needed to be stable if it was going to do its job.

"Um… what exactly are you making again?" her daughter asked after a few awkward moments of examining the device.

"It's a containment unit to trap ghosts," she explained without missing a beat of her work. "I thought I had mentioned this one to you before."

"Probably, but you know it's hard for me to keep all of your various inventions straight." The girl fell silent and started to head back towards the couch. "Mom…" she called out before she had reached her destination, "If he's just going to destroy your work, why do you continue to make all of these inventions? It's not like they'll help us escape."

Now it was the woman's turn to sigh. She gently put her tools down, pushed her red safety goggles up, and turned towards the younger girl while adopting an understanding expression. "Jazz… I know what I do seems pointless at times… But, if we can manage to either trap or incapacitate Vlad, then maybe we can finally get out of here."

"But Mom, in case you forgot, we need a ghost to get out of here! That maniac put us in a room with no door, no windows, and a ventilation system way too small for a human to even consider using for an escape! Unless you've found a way to safely blast through eight feet of steel enforced concrete, even if you can incapacitate him, what good will it do?

The woman bit her lip at her daughter's words. "It does seem hopeless, but I refuse to give up. We are going to get out of here, somehow. I promise." She gave Jazz a glance conveying the conversation was finished for the moment before turning back to her work.

Dealing with a teenager was difficult on the best of days, but when she was the only completely living person the woman had contact with for the previous thirteen years or so, trying to convey hope was exceedingly she was, Madeline (Maddie) Fenton, ghost hunter and paranormal research extraordinaire trying to convince her daughter they would be able to escape, when she had been utterly trapped and neutralized by a ghost who could disguise itself as a human. If only she had realized such a thing was possible years prior, there was a chance she could have prevented their current predicament and the separation of their family.

The man had seemed nice enough when he had introduced himself to her and her husband, Jack, all those years ago. He had even helped fund their various anti-ghost projects, but it was all a sham. The man had only gotten close to them to keep an eye on their research and any children they might have. She should have seen the warning signs when he brought up that one particular legend, but she, like Jack, just brushed if off as simple curiosity.

But, soon after Maddie became pregnant with her second child, Vlad's interest in their family started to verge on obsessive. It worsened after they found out the gender of the growing child. This, his possession of one particularly old book, and the growing notion he was somehow involved in the raids on the lab by the ghost known as Plasmius had forced her to reconsider Vlad as the person who would look after her children if anything would happen to her and Jack.

About a year after her son was born, the attacks from Plasmius on their research compound and home had gotten much worse, and Vlad's behavior had gotten more eccentric. Worried, she contacted an old friend of hers who had worked with her and Jack in the past and explained the situation to him. He seemed to understand the situation and agreed to her request. Not wasting any time, Maddie sent him a copy of the new will she and Jack created so he could look over it before it was finalized. Unfortunately, she never got the chance.

Plasmius had managed to find a way to get by their security system and enter the main part of the house. Maddie barely had a chance to hide her son before Plasmius knocked her out. When she awoke, she found herself alongside her husband and daughter in what appeared to be a large concrete room with no apparent doors or windows. Little did she know it would become her prison for the next fourteen years.

When Plasmius (who revealed himself to also be Masters) demanded to know where their son was, both she and Jack refused to tell him. He appeared to take it well and left them to their own devices for a couple weeks. During those weeks, the only outside interactions they had were with the ghostly servants who tended to their needs and furnished the room. Maddie still could fondly recall the way Jack tended to attempt to attack the servants on sight.

When Vlad reemerged, he was absolutely livid. Her son had been found where she had hidden him, but the courts had refused to let Vlad anywhere near the child due to the presence of the document her friend held. While surprised the courts ruled it as official, Maddie couldn't help but be pleased. However, Vlad found it as unforgivable and took his rage out on Jack. Maddie still was not entirely sure what happened to her husband after Vlad took him, but Vlad had given her enough hints for her to understand Jack was dead.

After her husband's death, she believed the same fate would befall her and Jazz, but it never came. Vlad had developed somewhat of a liking for both of them and had gone to great lengths to keep them happy and healthy. Her concerns turned to her missing son, who was still outside of Vlad's reach. The boy's new guardian had disappeared from Vlad's sights making the hybrid furious. What Maddie never understood was why the man never used his abilities to overturn the different court orders to gain control of the child or even just kidnap him. The only thing she could fathom was either he could not properly forge signatures or it dealt with his pride as a man, if one could refer to him as such.

After about a year of imprisonment, Maddie devoted herself to three main goals: educating her daughter, escaping, and taking care of Vlad for good. When she wasn't helping Jazz increase her knowledge with the books and materials Vlad had given them, she was working on weaponry which had the potential of fighting off Vlad and his servants (though most of them were relatively harmless). Unfortunately, it seemed as if Vlad had a means of spying on her as he seemed to always know what she was making and would frequently take and/or destroy her work, forcing her to start from scratch. Though it was disheartening, she was not going to give up. From her perspective, getting a handle on Vlad was the only route of a feasible escape.

Though most of her thoughts retained to the protection of her daughter, she would occasionally wonder about her son. She had no knowledge of his life which she supposed was a good thing. The less she heard, the better as it meant Vlad was not making progress. However, there were whispers among the staff involving Vlad's interest in a recent case involving missing documents in a single parent household. Though it was probably no big deal, Maddie had an uneasy feeling every time she thought of it.

…..

An odd noise caught her attention around dinnertime. It almost sounded like a yell. Glancing over at Jazz, Maddie noted her daughter also had heard it. She looked in the direction of the noise just in time to catch someone falling from the ceiling. Unsure who had intruded into their space, she grabbed her newest completed weapon, an ecto-staff (complete with retractable edges), and slowly approached the newcomer. The person lying on the ground appeared young and completely knocked out. But, her assumption was quickly proven wrong as the figure groaned slightly before shakily standing up.

It was a teenage boy, or at least its appearance suggested it was, with startling white hair and a mostly black wardrobe. The white aura around him indicated he was a ghost, but Maddie had never seen a ghost fall such a manner which made her suspicious. Deciding to gain the upper hand in the situation before he could react, she snuck up on him while he was glancing around and stabbed him in the back with her staff, effectively shocking him. Secretly glad her invention worked, she removed the weapon from him back and then used it to slam him into the closest wall.

"Don't move!" Maddie hissed at the boy after shocking him again with the staff. "I don't know why Vlad sent you, but I am not going to let a ghost harm either me or my daughter!"

"Hold on a second!" The ghost's voice was full of fear and confusion as he held up his hands in protection. The echo in his voice made him a little difficult to understand, but it was the same with most ghosts. "I'm not going to hurt you! I didn't even realize you were here!"

Her response was to shock him again. "Nice try, ghost!" she snarled after his screams died down. Most ghosts, no matter how friendly they seemed, lied. It was in their nature to try and trick the living.

"Wh-what are you talking about….? What ghost? I'm… I'm not a ghost!"

Maddie raised an eyebrow as she studied the boy. He seemed genuinely confused; she could see it in his eyes. Was it possible this ghost didn't actually know it was a ghost? No, that was impossible."Oh, and I suppose normal people have unnaturally white hair and glow?" she asked sarcastically trying to force him to admit he was lying.

"Hey, that was something Vlad did to me…!" he retorted indignantly before realization seemed to hit him. "Wait a minute…. I'm glowing?" A frown crossed his features as he examined his hands and noticed the pale light emanating from his body. "Why the hell am I glowing? What was in that drink he gave me?"

She stared at him in amazement. "You didn't even realize…" she muttered to herself as the scientist in her started to emerge. "You're either a good actor or newly formed…" Examining him more, she quickly threw out the notion he was acting. Everything about him, from his body language to the honest surprise in his shockingly green eyes, indicated his expressions were genuine. But, ghosts weren't supposed to be able to be so expressive, unless they were newly formed as they still had some recollection of their human life. If he was newly formed, it represented such a great possibility! "Hmm… I've never gotten to study a newly formed ghost before…"

The boy seemed to understand her intensions and immediately tried to scoot away from her. Fascinating! Didn't he realize he could just phase through the wall? "Look, I really didn't mean to bother you!" he told her quickly as he glanced around for an escape route. "I really want to leave as much as you seem to want me to. So… if you could please just show me where the door is, I'll be out of your hair."

Maddie didn't answer him immediately which caused him to cringe. She was far too interested in his physiology. After powering down her staff, she placed the end of her staff to lift the boy's chin. "Fascinating! Your body structure is incredibly similar to that of a human's, and you clearly still think like one." It was true. He was the most human-looking ghost she had ever seen. If it wasn't for the white hair and glow, he would look exactly like a normal teenager. Even his skin color could pass as a human's. Normally, the closest a ghost got was a sickly pale white, but this kid was actually tan. Maybe his appearance would become more ghost-like as he got older.

"'Think'? What's with this think business? I am human!"

She was about to retort when her daughter suddenly pushed her aside. "You're scaring him!" she scolded before turning towards the boy and extended her hand. "Here, I'll help you up. By the way, my name is Jazz."

The ghost looked at Jazz warily before accepting the hand. "I'm Danny," he told her with a smile as she pulled him to his feet. Maddie was surprised how easily the ghost was able to interact with her daughter. Though most ghosts could interact with the physical world, it tended to take some effort. They boy seemed to have no problems whatsoever. Maybe it was another particularity of such a young ghost. "And… I … uh, didn't mean to come in here, I promise. I was just trying to get away from Vlad…" He coughed awkwardly for a moment before he looked around. "Um, where exactly am I anyways?"

Jazz was obviously amused by his response. After patting his shoulder, she led him towards her favorite couch, an old and patched gray thing she refused to let Vlad replace. "Let's exchange information. You're obviously confused by this just as much as we are."

Maddie watched the interaction with a wary eye. While she wasn't too keen on letting the ghost get close to her daughter, it didn't seem like it was hostile. Maybe hostility was another trait which was age dependent. No matter the reason, it was still a great opportunity to study the boy. It also gave another possibility; he could have some information on Vlad she could use. So, observing was her best course of action, for now.

…

"And I thought my situation was bad!" Danny remarked after he listened to Jazz explain their situation. He leaned back, allowing himself to rest his head on the back of the couch. "I can't imagine being trapped in a place like this for so long. And there isn't any way to escape?"

Jazz shook her head. "Trust me; we've looked over this place hundreds of times with no luck."

A frowned crossed Danny's face as he considered it. "It's just like the room he had me in… except it at least had a door. Man, that guy really is a fruitloop. Why has he kept you here for so long?"

"He hasn't exactly privileged us with that information," Maddie sniffed as she stared at the ghost. While he didn't seem like a threat, she still wasn't sure he wasn't under Vlad's control. "I'm surprised he hasn't told you."

"I keep telling you I have nothing do with that guy! Not only did he kidnap me and give me this weird stuff, but Winston told me he's the one who attacked my family!"

"Hey…" Jazz quickly interrupted noticing Maddie was starting to get irritated. She inwardly smiled at her daughter; Jazz was really good at reading her mood. "You've mentioned this drink Vlad gave you a couple times now… What exactly was it?"

"Not sure…" he replied with a frown. "I was trying to break down the door to that room I was in when he came in and somehow managed to be in two places at the same time. One of the Vlads held me still while the other forced this nasty tasting green glowing stuff down my throat. Next thing I know, I'm sick to my stomach and in a lot of pain." He grimaced and grabbed his arms as he recalled the event. "After I woke up… Vlad came in and started talking about this curse before dragging me in front of a really big mirror. After catching a glimpse of my appearance, I freaked out, ran for my life, and tripped over my own feet. Next thing I know, I'm in a strange room being stabbed by that staff." He glared at Maddie. "What exactly did you do to it to make to shock people like that?"

"Hold on a moment… you 'caught a glimpse of your appearance'?" Jazz paraphrased slowly. "So, you're implying you didn't look like you currently do before getting here?"

"Yes! What's so hard to understand about that?" Danny's voice was full of frustration. "I don't know why Vlad changed my clothes and hair color. Where does that guy get off dying someone's black hair white? It's going to take forever to get all of this bleach out…"

Maddie shared a look with her daughter as Danny examined one of the snowy locks near his face. He really didn't seem to understand exactly what had happened to him, and he certainly didn't seem to realize he was no longer human. He was even sitting perfectly on the worn out couch like a regular person. Normally, even when sitting, ghosts tended to float above the piece of furniture instead of touching it.

But, there was a bigger implication to the ghost's words. He was suggesting he was still alive when Vlad had gotten a hold of him. If Vlad had indeed killed the boy than how many of the other spirits they had encountered through the years had met their fate in the same way?

"So… Danny," Jazz stated suddenly in an attempt to change the subject, "how old are you?"

He frowned for a moment before he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Hmm… that is a good question. Since I'm not exactly sure how long I've been here, I'm not sure if my birthday's passed. If it has, I'm fifteen now."

Maddie had to turn away for a moment after listening to the boy. Usually she was unaffected by the words of a ghost, but this one was different. He was approximately the same age as her missing son. Had he been taken away from his family like hers had been? At least she was still alive and would eventually be able to try and reconnect with the boy when she eventually escaped. This child would never get the same chance.

…...

About an hour had gone by since Danny had fallen through the ceiling. While the boy was proving to be surprisingly good company, Maddie was surprised no one else had visited them as dinner time had passed. Suspicious, but not overly alarmed, she turned her attention back towards the boy.

Though Danny had initially come across as shy, he was actually rather talkative and had a good sense of humor. Even she was warming up to him, though she wasn't going to admit it. She did allow herself to politely offer him a drink from the small fridge Vlad had given them in an attempt to play hostess. Amazingly, he drank it with no apparent problem. Ghosts weren't supposed to be able to handle human foods, but perhaps since he was so young he still had something of a human constitution. She was going to have to ask the boy to allow her to study him more in depth.

While the boy was telling a joke, he suddenly gasped and shivered. "Danny… are you okay…?" Jazz asked him hesitantly as she touched his shoulder. A small gasp escaped her as she watched a faint mist form from his breath before disappearing. How peculiar. Ghosts shouldn't be able to breathe, and it certainly wasn't cold enough in the room for it to be visible.

"Someone's coming…" Danny stated as he stood up and looked at the ceiling. His breath misted again as he spoke.

Maddie looked at him curiously. "What do you mean? Are you telling me you can sense other ghosts?"

"I… I don't know… But I think it's Vlad… Great… just what I need right now…"

"Are you sure?" If this boy was telling the truth, he presented an interesting possibility. This was the first time she had ever heard of such a power.

Danny wasn't able to give an answer before Vlad phased through the ceiling in about the area where he had been staring. The man looked agitated as he glanced around the room before allowing his gaze to focus on her and the two teenagers. A smile graced his lips as he floated down to their level.

"Ah, Maddie, Jasmine, you look wonderful today," he told them as a form of a greeting. "I do hope you forgive me for dinner being late today. A certain someone disappeared, and it's been a mess trying to find him." His attentions turned towards Danny, who hesitantly backed away. "My dear boy, how did you ever manage to end up down here?"

When Danny didn't answer, Vlad rubbed his eyes and continued to talk. "Though I had planned on introducing you to the girls eventually, I was hoping you would have a much better grasp of your powers before then. No matter… In fact, this may actually work to my advantage." He glanced at back at Maddie and gave a strange smile. "So, my dear, do you recognize him? I've heard a mother will always have some sort of recognition when she encounters a child she hasn't seen in years."

Maddie narrowed her eyes at the strange comment. "What are you talking about?" She glanced to her side to check where her staff was. Drat! Why didn't she grab it when it Vlad entered the room?

"Oh, how silly of me," he said as he placed his hand over his face in feigned embarrassment. "It would be much harder to recognize him in this form. Come here, Daniel."

The boy shook his head and continued to move away. "No way! I'm not letting a sicko like you come anywhere near me again."

"When will you learn you are in no position to argue?" Vlad's tone was rather resigned as he tiredly made three duplicates of himself.

As Danny kept switching his glance between the different Vlads in a terrified manner, Maddie snuck over and grabbed her staff. She kept her movements as quiet as possible until she noticed the clones were about make a move to grab the boy. "Danny, run!" she shouted as she attacked what she believed to be the original with her staff.

"You'll regret that, woman!" the hybrid snarled as he and two of the clones turned their attention to her.

One of them shot a beam of pink ecto-energy while another disappeared. She easily blocked it with her staff, as most ecto-infused weapons could deflect such attacks, before using it to stab the air behind her. A grunt of pain told her she had hit her mark; Vlad could be so predictable some times. Bringing the bottom of the staff up from the ground, she nailed the ghost in the chin to giving him an injury somewhat comparable to that of an upper cut. She then flipped the staff to use the momentum to bring it horizontally and nail him again in the face. A satisfying crash told her he was down for the moment. One down, three more to go.

She quickly jumped back as another blast was sent her way. As soon as she landed, she had to lean back as the other Vlad involved in her fight swung a right hook at her. Recovering before he could, she swung the bottom of her staff up towards her so she could circle it and hit him. The ghost tried to turn intangible before it hit, but the ecto-energy within the staff still sent a painful shockwave through him. Bringing the bottom of the staff up, she switched the position of her hands to allow her to bring the tip down on the top of his head. Sensing the approach of another clone from behind her, she thrust the staff backwards,hitting the him, before sliding it back forwards to once again hit her previous opponent.

Quickly adjusting her hands again, she swung the staff around, much like an overly large baseball bat, catching both of her opponents as the move caused her to crouch. Bringing the rear end of the staff to the floor, she slid the tip out until it was resting under the opponent behind her as she turned around. Standing, she shifted positions and brought the end of the staff right between Vlad's knees. She could hear him slump to the floor as she turned her attention back towards the other one. Somewhere on her right, she could see the Vlad she hit earlier getting up from the floor.

The frustrating thing about ghosts was their incredible resilience. While they could be damaged with the proper weapon, they were easily able to recover if given the time. Though Vlad was somehow only half ghost, he still possessed the annoying trait making him a difficult opponent, even if she was the better fighter. And, he was an expert at distractions.

A yell somewhere to her side caught her attention. The one Vlad which had gone after Danny had finally gotten a hold of him. Vlad was trying to say something when an irritated, "Get away from him!" was shouted followed by a heavy book being thrown. Though the book easily passed through Vlad, he did give Jazz a rather irritated look.

"I would stay out of this if I were you, girl," he retorted as he raised his hand towards her. Pink energy circle the outstretched hand as he kept the other firmly attached to Danny's shirt.

"You leave my daughter alone!" Maddie shouted as she started to charge towards the fourth Vlad. Her movements were cut short as she was grabbed from behind by several hands. She struggled only to find she was effectively stuck and at least a few inches from the ground.

"Just sit back and watch the show," one of the Vlads hissed in her ear. "Struggling won't get you out of this mess."

"Now that all of the distractions are gone…" the Vlad holding Danny looked over the terrified boy rather carefully. "You've caused quite a lot of trouble today… I would be more careful in the future. You wouldn't want the people who care about you to get hurt, would you?"

Danny was barely able to mumble an answer when Vlad started sending shocks through his body. Maddie watched in horror as the boy screamed as he started to convulse. After an agonizing moment, Vlad stopped the shocks and held the limp boy by the arm seemingly waiting for something. After a moment, a dazzling blue-white ring appeared from Danny's waist. It quickly spilt in two; each half traveling along both halves of his body. When the lights died down, a completely different boy was dangling from Vlad's grasp. This one had pitch black hair and lighter skin. Even the outfit was different.

Apparently satisfied, the solitary Vlad glanced at Maddie and held up the seemingly unconscious boy. "Maddie, meet your long lost son, Daniel Fenton." He then flung the boy onto the gray couch. As he did so, the other Vlads let go of Maddie and were absorbed back into the other one. "As you can see, he has come into his birthright… though he doesn't look anything like what either of us were expecting. But, I'm not overly bothered. There are things I must prepare for him, so until I return, look after him. I dare say you should welcome this as a great time to bond with him. Ta!" With a mocking grin, he floated up towards the ceiling and disappeared.

Maddie, though no longer trapped by the ghost, was unable to move as she stared at the boy on the couch. This child… this ghost, was really her son? But how…?

She collapsed to the floor and tried to hold back her tears. She had tried to prevent this! Vlad wasn't supposed to get a hold of him! And Danny… poor Danny, she and Jack had done research to try and prevent him from becoming like Vlad, but it had all been for naught. She should have known better than to try and fight fate. But, how was she going to live with herself when the sweet boy from before became the monster from her nightmares?

=== End of chapter notes:

It was actually pretty fun to write Maddie's fight scene. I've actually taken Kung Fu in the past and was fortunate enough to learn some staff forms. With my staff currently sitting in the living room (where I usually tend to do my writing), I was able to grab it and fool around with different movements and forms to try and get a semi-realistic fight going in my mind. But, staff movements aren't easy to describe. There aren't a lot of technical terms and you can't swing them sideways without picking them up in certain ways. The circling I describe is in reference to switching staff positions/forms. Note, when you learn how to work with a staff, it's usually taller than you are.

Vlad is a master manipulator, strategist, and can fight, but knowing he tends to let others do his work, I'm fairly certain Maddie would be able to take him in a real fight if he didn't get a chance to plan it out. Sure, Maddie could have gained the upper hand on him a while ago, but that's exactly why he takes away her weapons. The staff escaped due to the ends being retractable allowing it to be stored in odd places. Yes, I thought about this.

#Eidolon #danny phantom #dp #danny phantom au #dp au #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #vlad plasmius #maddie fenton #jazz fenton #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #fantasy #alternate universe #paranormal #supernatural

[poc-movie-supremacy]

The Immortal Lovers

Mortals wonder, most can’t even fathom what a centuries long relationship is like. Is it bloody, is it passionate, is it kind? Steven and Andrew hear this and laugh. Immortality with your loved one is soft. 

I hope you (especially @mousemadej) all love this fic. It was so fun to write. 

----

There’s a certain softness that comes when you’ve lived forever. You end up knowing someone intimately. Your souls are so intertwined that where you end and they begin is untraceable.

The crackling of the fire and buzz from the cicadas and fireflies outside filled the room. Steven hands Andrew a cup of hot cocoa before clambering into his lap. Reflexively one hand covers Steven’s stomach while his chin rests on Steven’s shoulder. Together they quietly listen to Ryan and Shane recount one of their weird wonderful world stories. In truth, they stopped believing the story after the bloody pumpkin got involved, but they declined to tell the boys that.

Andrew skates and massages his fingers across Steven’s torso where he’s always sore. One would think the sore spots would move but not for Steven. He aches in the same places, places Andrew has memorized. Finding Steven’s sore spots, tickle spot… is as easy as breathing. If they were alone, Steven would start mouthing at Andrew’s neck. He would begin at the collarbone and make his way up to the shell of the ear. The shiver it elicited delighted Steven to no end. In response, Steven would humm happily into Andrew’s ear and use his arm to play with Andrew’s short golden-brown hair.  To show off his newly acquired strength, Andrew would pick up Steven and take them to bed. The shorter blonde would drink in the sound of Steven’s giggles like they were the freshly pressed wine in Italy.

Of course, they have company, so that’s off the table. Instead, Steven plays with Andrew’s calloused fingers as they trade stories with the self-named paranormal bad boys. When Ryan and Shane tire themselves out, the fancy boys, also penned by the paranormal bad boys, get up to wish them a good bye. By then they’re just exhausted so when they fall into the bed they just fall asleep. Steven curls his long-form around Andrew surrounding him like a blanket.

When work is over for Steven the first person he likes to see is Andrew. He likes to cup his face with his hands and rest their foreheads together. For a while, they just sway pressed together. It's nice to reconnect with your love after a grueling day serving capitalism. Steven breathes him in, the scent of earth and food filling his lungs. Right now he smelled like apple pie, Steven smiled in excitement. Andrew brushes the dirt off his apron before sinking his fingers into Steven’s hair, blue this time. He likes blue the most. It compliments outfits and makes him seem sharper like he was cut from stone. Once he dyed his hair pink though, Andrew won’t lie that he stared at Steven for a long minute before peppering him with kisses.

“Berrie baby. You smell like berries.” Andrew whispered to him one night. The world was silent as they lay together. Steven smiled sleepily against Andrew’s neck.

“Must be yummy or something,” he mused before falling asleep. Andrew thought Steven would drop the conversation, but ever since then Steven usually smells of some sort of berry.

While immortality has its benefits, there are some drawbacks. Sometimes Steven gets a little restless, he likes to go with Ryan and Shane on their demon hunts. Andrew packs him a bag and wishes him well on his travels. Stopping him was always absurd, and going with him was also insane. Andrew never was and never will be a fighter. He waits for Steven to come home instead, praying to gods he no longer beloved in to keep him safe, Adam turns out to be of great help during these times. He visits more often when Steven’s away, being a quiet rock to Andrew’s anxious mess.

Usually, he ends up ok, maybe a few cuts and bruises but generally unharmed. Andrew likes to run his hands over Steven to be 100% sure. When he gets proof that Steven’s not harmed they celebrate. A pie, usually apple, waits for them in the kitchen. Andrew feeds Steven slices as old music filters through the house.

Not all homecomings are that sweet sadly. One time Steven had been gone for two weeks. That in and of itself wasn’t odd, just unfortunate. Andrew had just finished shopping when he heard loud banging at the door. Distinctly making out Ryan’s loud calls, he made his way quickly to the door. It wasn’t Steven calling out to him, he also had a key, so Andrew was doubly nervous. What happened to Steven that Ryan had to be banging worriedly at the door?

Upon opening the door, Andrew’s heart stopped. Shane was cradling a barely conscious Steven in his arms. He quickly let them into the home, pointing them to where they should lay Steven. There was a large spot of blood on Shane's shirt and a matching evergrowing blood spot on Steven. Andrew took a deep breath so he could focus. First he checked Steven’s heartbeat and breathing. It was weaker than he’d like, gasping breaths and slower pumps, but it was there. That would have to be enough for now.

Apparently, they were fighting a demon who got a little too close to Steven. Shane and Ryan had their hands tied to notice it quick enough. When it finally caught their attention, they were too late to save Steven. He pinned to a wall by a seven-foot demon. Slowly, using its tail, it pierced Steven’s side before Ryan was able to rip him away. Shane tried his best to stop the bleeding while Ryan finished off the rest of the demons. As quick as they could, the next place they headed was here, to Andrew.

The man in question pressed his lips into a thin line. All the screams of frustration were bottled up tightly in him. He wanted to rage, at the boys, at the demons, instead, he took a few deep measured breaths. Losing his temper wouldn’t help Steven at all. Andrew directed Shane and Ryan around the house to get supplies while he examined Steven’s wound. It was about two inches deep and five inches long. The cut was a jagged little line that had mostly stopped breathing.

A tentative hand cupped Andrew’s cheek and he wanted to sob. “Hey, hey honey. I-I’m ok.” Steven gasped out. His voice was weak and stuttery. Andrew shushed him quietly, one hand on the wound the other carding through Steven’s hair. Steven leaned into the touch fully, practically purring at the contact. “Missed being home with you. Not always- not always fun being the third wheel.” Steven rambled. He started kissing Andrew’s palm almost happily. Unintentionally, Andrew’s heart fluttered at the action.

They didn’t speak much until Shane came bursting in with the medical supplies, and they didn’t talk much after that. Methodically, Andrew cleaned the wound before stitching it up. Steven tried as best as he could to minimize the pain on his face, but he wasn’t exempt from the occasional wince. Andrew noted it each and every time. He tried to be very careful, he hated putting Steven through any sort of pain. They wanted to give him anesthesia, but it was a hard commodity to come by (and sometimes a useless commodity). To replace anesthesia, Ryan and Shane each held one of Steven’s hands during the stitching.

Luckily it didn’t take too long. Andrew shooed the paranormal bad boys up to a guest room to unwind. He helped Steven to bed, slowly stripping him down before putting some layers back on him. They meandered into bed, Andrew as the big spoon for once.

Steven felt a kiss press onto his forehead. “Never leave me.” The low, syrupy voice begged him.

“Never,” Steven squeezed their hands together. Not many things in life were promised, but this? Steven could promise Andrew this. “Not for anything ever.”

Bonus:

Sunlight bathed a sleeping Steven and Simba who had curled himself into Steven’s side. Unconsciously, he wrapped an arm around his cat as he slept.

In the kitchen, Andrew softly puttered around fixing the food. Adam was there to help him, taking care of the goats, chickens, and pigs. They loved Adam, flocking around him wherever he went. It made it slightly harder to get the eggs from the chicken but he managed. He took his basket of about 14 eggs back to the kitchen.

“The animals like me more,” He teased Andrew in his ever soft voice.

Andrew let a faint smile grace his lips. “Yeah, that’s cause you indulge them.”

Adam tsked. “Excuses, excuses. What are you planning on making?”

“As much as can of anything. A few waffles, pancakes, some sausages, a few biscuits, and eggs. The boys will be starving after this ghost hunt. I’d rather cook too much than not enough.”

“You could make a large bowl of poutine.”

“Too late for that. Help me cook this all before the boys get it.”

“You sound like a prairie wife,” Adam pointed out. Andrew’s glare caused him to bark out laughing. Unbeknownst to them, their ensuing bickering about whether or not Andrew was a prairie wife woke up Steven. Shane and Ryan had already been up and found the argument incredibly amusing. They agreed with Adam, Andrew’s mothering definitely made him a prairie wife. Steven was too groggy to understand what they were saying.

He slowly blinked awake, groaning at the light in his eyes. He felt lethargic like he woke up from a nap in the middle of the day and not a deep sleep. There was a soft licking, tingling feeling on his hand. Frowning, he looked down to see Simba contentedly licking his hand. With his other hand, Steven scratched at Simba and tried to gather his bearings. Andrew’s side of the bed was cold, probably why Simba was snuggled so close to him.

When he tried getting up, a painful ache pierced his side. Looking down he saw bandages covering his side. Memories of last night flooded his brain. The fight, the stab wound, Andrew patching him back up. Steven flinched at the last memory. Andrew probably wasn’t too happy after seeing Steven like that. Unhappy would turn out to be an understatement, considering he was stress cooking. Steven slowly got up, put on a large sweater, picked up Simba, and headed out the door to find Andrew.

Half the meal had finished cooking by the time Steven found them. He watched them quietly before Andrew realized he was there. “Hey, how are you. I didn’t realize you were up.” Steven nodded at him before draping himself across Andrew’s back.

Warm hands encircled Andrew’s waist while Steven’s face was buried in his neck. A low hum raced down Andrew’s spine making him smile. “I guess you’re alright.”

“I don’t like waking up without you. The food looks good though. Good job to you and Adam.”

Andrew twisted his head to press a kiss to the crown of Steven’s head. “Go lie down, let Adam and I take care of this.” Steven would’ve objected but he was already feeling a little tired. He grabbed a water bottle as he went to lie down.

Adam and Andrew laid out all the food on the coffee table just as Shane and Ryan came straggling in. "Hey prarie wife," Ryan called. Adam snorted while Andrew glared at all of them. At Steven's confused face, Shane went over to explain it to him.

"Andrew, you are a prarie wife."

Andrew turned around to glare at his husband. "I thought we are on the same side?!"

A round of laughter rang through the kitchen. Steven readjusted himself to let Andrew sit beside him. "Do you really think I'm a prarie wife?"

Steven just giggled and kissed his husband on the side of his face. Andrew groaned into his hands. Immortality could be bloody, mean, and awful; but it was so so soft.

#standrew #ella's worth it fics #we're all fic writers here

[indiavolojones]

anon your MIND… 

 YE━(｡･`ω´･｡)ゞ ━S!!

Idk if you meant this as a request but I did it!!! I hope you like this incredibly spur of the moment, university wicked au lmfaoaoooo

5kish words, gen, asmo/solomon

“I can’t concentrate on coursework or go to bed if you’ve got someone moaning in your bed every other night.”

“Sounds like a personal problem,” Asmo sniffs, and Solomon very quickly finds the situation slipping through his fingers. All of his phenomenally constructed arguments for why Asmo should be a respectful roommate have disintegrated in the face of Asmo’s pure obstinance. “Besides, where would I take my partners if not to my room?”

“Their rooms. A car. A bathroom.  A dark alcove somewhere. I don’t care--anywhere else but here.”

Pls keep in mind a bunch of small notes:

-I haven’t seen Wicked, only listened to the soundtrack! I don’t remember what happened to make them room together/much of the plot hahaha. This is less of a wicked au and more a magical college au, whoooo~ -I made up so much shit for this. I was pulling lore outta my ass like nobody’s business -Everyone is human! -I skipped around a lot, so if there’s something that doesn’t make sense pls ask and I’ll clarify hahaha, I wanted to keep this short!! (is,.... 5k short...)

-

-

-

“We're all supposedly the best of the best, and yet none of us could stop a burst pipe," Solomon bemoans the status of their old dormitory.

“In our defense, it happened in the middle of the night and we had no idea what was going on?" Simeon offers, tilting his head with a sympathetic smile.

"But midway through the semester!" Solomon won't admit that the loss of one of his few friends being constantly at his side is more daunting than he thought it would be. Simeon is a phenomenal roommate, and understands Solomon better than anyone.

With the unfortunate mad dash to get all the affected students into new, undamaged rooms, the two of them are being split up, and now Solomon will have to get used to another, likely annoying roommate.

"I never realized you were this dependent on me." Simeon teases, and Solomon glares at him. Simeon swirls himself around in Solomon’s desk chair while Solomon walks by, cardboard box in his arms. Just to annoy him, his foot shoots out to stop Simeon mid-spin, and Simeon huffs, looking up at him.  

“Didn’t you say you were going to help?” Solomon asks.

Simeon laughs.

“You asked me to come help move boxes? I thought it was for sure because of you freaking out at getting a new roommate.” Solomon’s lips quirk downwards, and turns his head away with a scoff as he brings the box to the corner of his new dorm. Simeon props an elbow up on Solomon’s desk and watches the other.

“What could you possibly do to help with that?” Solomon asks, palm pressing to the box and releasing the sealing spell on it. “Do you have a solution for this?”

He gestures at the other half of the (thankfully) large room.

Instead of the traditional bunk bed and lower desk set like on Solomon's side of the room, the other half of the room consists of a large wardrobe as additional closet space, an extravagant vanity filled with beauty products, and a nest. A massive nest of pillows, sheets, and blankets—describing it feels ridiculous, but to look on its glory is surprisingly enticing. It does look… very comfortable.

“I think it looks rather nice,” Simeon examines the fairy lights strung up around the walls near the bed. The edges of his roommate's influence barely encroach onto what Solomon would consider to be his side, but as he’s the one imposing on this person’s space halfway into the year… he’ll bite his tongue.

Realistically, there’s no reason for RAD to have shared dorm rooms--the school is prestigious enough that each student could probably get their own living suite… but the chancellor of their particular location is the direct son of the president. He’s a bit eccentric, and enthusiastically vocal about the benefits of shared dorms as integral to the relationships they develop with their peers.

(There are things Solomon’s heard of him too: how he’s the youngest person in his role, how despite the accusations of nepotism he’s completely taken the magical community by storm in his unconventional approach to education.

An interesting man that Solomon would enjoy meeting face to face, rather than admire on a podium, even if he is quite handsome.)

Simeon purses his lips, before snapping his fingers, “A privacy screen?”

Solomon rolls his eyes hard enough that they feel like falling out of his sockets.

“I don’t know why you’re so up in arms about this. I’m sure your roommate will be fine,” Simeon says then, gentle--Solomon looks at the opposite side of the room and has his doubts. “It’ll be good for you to try making more than three friends, you know.”

Taking the books out of the box and lining them up on the shelves of the book case, Solomon tosses a glance back at Simeon.

Simeon isn’t wrong.

Solomon could be the most powerful sorcerer in the world, but it means absolutely nothing if he can’t effectively operate in the modern magical community. Maybe if he was born several hundred years earlier he could have swept up the world in the sheer magnitude of his power, but nowadays, politics infect everything. Solomon can’t patent a spell to wipe his ass without a sponsor, and no one wants to sponsor the intense kid with a bad attitude.

His ability to cast magic without any kind of aide or incantation launched him into the spotlight at an early age. Solomon has always been aware of what other people thought of him. When empty praise didn’t ingratiate his sycophants to him, it just as easily turned to criticism; kids are cruel, after all. As a result, Solomon has always struggled connecting with others.

By the time he realized he would have to work on his people skills to get anywhere, he was halfway through high school with a bad reputation, no friends, and no open doors.

(Funnily enough, it was around the same time that he met Simeon that he realized he needed to be less of an asshole if he was to ever get anywhere in life.

Simeon has been integral in teaching Solomon "how to person", as he puts it.)

“Who’s your new roommate, anyway?” Simeon asks when Solomon doesn’t respond to his comment. “I don’t think you said their name.”

"Did I not?” Solomon hums, “It’s someone named Mephistopheles.”

“Mephistopheles?” Simeon parrots, head tilting to the side, “Didn’t he get expelled?”

As Solomon opens his mouth to question Simeon, the door handle jiggles as someone unlocks it.

It swings open unceremoniously, followed by the quiet moans and shuffling of clothes as two people stumble inside the threshold. Simeon and Solomon can only watch in stunned silence as the taller, curly haired man presses a shorter woman against the wall, his face fully obscured in the curve of her neck as he lavishes it in open mouthed kisses.

Her eyelids flutter, he must be doing a great job--but the second she makes eye contact with Solomon, she shrieks.

“Asmo, Asmo wait--” The girl bats at his chest, her face bright red, “There’s people here!” Asmo pulls his face away from her skin to look at the room, a gorgeous smile on his face as he notices the others does not falter in the slightest.

“Oh, you’re Solomon!” Asmo smiles, before looking at Simeon, “And you’re Simeon. Lovely to meet you both.” Solomon looks at Simeon for some kind of hint as to what the fuck he should do here,  but Simeon also seems at a loss. Before either of them can say anything, Asmo slides a hand up the girl’s side to cup her cheek, speaking to them even as he stares deep into her eyes.

“Now, would the two of you kindly get out?”

-

-

-

The rest of living with Asmo is pretty much a continued repeat of their first meeting. Multiple times a week, sometimes once or twice in a day. Solomon has no fucking clue how someone like Asmo gets any schoolwork done, or hell, when the other gets sleep?

Regardless, it’s two weeks of Asmo getting laid and Solomon not getting proper amounts of sleep, and he’s sick of it.

“There need to be,” Solomon grimaces, swirling around in his desk chair but faltering as Asmo emerges from the bathroom, toweling his hair and jeans hanging low on his hips, “...ground rules.”

Asmo tilts his head, “Rules?” He says the words like it’s a foreign language, new and clunky in his pretty mouth. Solomon wants to sock him.

“You can’t keep bringing partners back here,” Solomon says. Asmo goes back to toweling his perfect fucking hair.

“And why is that?”

“I can’t concentrate on coursework or go to bed if you’ve got someone moaning in your bed every other night.”

“Sounds like a personal problem,” Asmo sniffs, and Solomon very quickly finds the situation slipping through his fingers. All of his phenomenally constructed arguments for why Asmo should be a respectful roommate have disintegrated in the face of Asmo’s pure obstinance. “Besides, where would I take my partners if not to my bedroom?”

“Their rooms. A dark alcove somewhere. A car. A bathroom. I don’t care--anywhere else but here.”

Asmo ponders this for a moment, before he shrugs his shoulders as he walks across the room to his drawers by the window, “Nope. I don’t think that’s considerate for them.” He digs through to presumably find a shirt, and Solomon bites the bullet.

“You’re on academic probation, aren’t you?” Solomon says, and Asmo freezes with his back turned to Solomon, tension evident in the line of his shoulders. When he turns around, his expression is colder than anything Solomon’s ever seen directed at him. In his brother Levi’s words, there it is: the infamous Bitch Smile.

“I didn’t know you cared about gossip,” Asmo looks like a dragon picking his teeth with human bones as he sits against the window sill.

The afternoon light drifting in through the sheer curtains casts him in an ethereal glow, and Solomon bites back his unnecessary request for Asmo to move out of such flattering lighting so he can negotiate with him properly.

“I don’t, which is how I know it’s true.”

“And? What? You’re going to try and blackmail me with this information?” Asmo sneers, but even crippling distaste is an attractive look for the other.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Solomon scoffs, “I’m offering to tutor you.”

Asmo blinks at that.

“I won’t tell anyone. You know my grades. Half of our required classes are together, so it’s not like it would put me under any more stress than not sleeping. And I’m not unreasonable,” Solomon says, “If you must bring people over, just let me know in advance and I’ll go to a coffee shop or the library. I do need to sleep, so I want them out by nine or ten at the latest.”

Asmo doesn’t immediately say no like Solomon thought he would, so things are already going much better than he expected. However, it still does not prepare him for Asmo’s response.

“Fine. Is that all you want?” He asks, and Solomon pointedly ignores the double entendre.  

“I want one of the shelves in the bathroom cabinet,” Solomon blurts, because Asmo has too many beauty products and there’s no space for him in the current set up. Asmo’s brow rises, even as his mouth twist into a wry, surprised smile.

“Maybe.”

“I can work with maybe,” Solomon smiles in return, standing and extending his hand out for a shake. “It’s a deal, then?”

Asmo stares at the hand, his expression unreadable, before something seems to break. He pushes off the window sill and in a few short strides, huffing with laughter, “What’s with the handshake? So formal.”

Solomon doesn’t rise to the bait even if there is a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. This is the first time they’ve touched, he realizes as his magic hums as Asmo’s hand is warm and steady in his own.

“It’s a deal.” Asmo says, and there’s a hint of interest in his eyes as he seems to see Solomon in a new light.

-

-

-

Solomon doesn’t mean to overhear it. He spends so much time in RAD’s library that it’s essentially his second home.

“How’s your shady roommate?” He hears a voice say, and it’s familiar enough to jarr Solomon from his thoughts.

A tinkling laugh, and Solomon blinks in realization. Asmo? Solomon tries to not eavesdrop, tries so hard to not let his interest wander from the potion formula in front of him, because it really has been giving him trouble...

“He’s not bad. Too stiff. Looks great when he comes out of the shower,” Asmo purrs. Solomon feels the bright pink blush rise to his cheeks. They’re talking openly about this in a library, of all places. RAD’s library is unreasonably huge, though--even on a busy weekday, one could be several aisles away from another human being in this space.

They’re both taking the same potions class, so it’s not too far off the mark that they’d both be in the same area looking for reading materials. Solomon should really just leave before he hears anything else that makes his ears burn.

“I don’t trust him.” Asmo’s brother, Satan, says. Of course. Solomon grinds his teeth. Asmo hmms.

“He definitely has a weird powerful vibe about him. I don’t blame you. His face just looks like he’s up to something,” Solomon swallows the spike of hurt that hits at Asmo’s words, even if he’s heard them before. Two months since he started tutoring Asmo. Three months since he moved in. Their cohabitation isn’t domestic, but it is at least civil. “I’ve seen him sleep but I don’t believe it, you know? I’ve never seen him do anything for fun. He’s so pent up and proper that I’m not sure how he does it.”

“He doesn’t.” Satan tsks, “You’ve heard about what happened, right?” Solomon feels his blood run cold.

That was different. It was an accident. He was a child. He was weak then. Solomon would never do anything like that on purpose again. Surely, surely Asmo wouldn’t--

“Of course! It figures though, all the super powerful kids are fucked in the head. But other than that, he’s not bad.”

But he’s not bad. But he’s not bad. As if Solomon would ever settle for not bad after such an callous description of his person. Fury, the kind that makes his magic churn under his skin at a rolling boil, rises in him: at Satan, at Asmo, at himself for.. For what? Believing that Asmo may actually have been different? That they could have been friends?

“What was that?” Satan asks, likely sensing the swirl of Solomon’s magic.

Cursing inwardly, he wrangles his wild emotions under control through years of practice. He will not prove them right. Solomon closes his textbook. His chair screeches against the floor as he stands, Satan and Asmo crossing out of the aisle into the open study area where Solomon has been seated, completely unhidden.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Satan accuses, his bright green eyes sharp and disdainful.

Years and years of diligently studying. Never losing his temper. His single minded determination to better himself has erected a wall that others look on in contempt. Do not prove them right about you, Solomon tells himself, nails digging into his palms hard enough to leave red crescent marks. Do not let the rumors be true.

He cannot look at Asmo, so instead, he smiles at Satan.

“No,” Solomon laughs, and the politeness in it is so fake that it hurts, “I was studying for the same test that Asmo is studying for. Voices carry quite well in a library.”

Satan glances at Asmo, but Solomon still cannot look at him. Tossing his book haphazardly into his bag, he throws it over his shoulder.

“I’ll leave the two of you to it, then.”

-

-

-

“Solomon, hey, wait!” Solomon is not running away, but he has a very brisk pace and does not feel bad when Asmo has to job to catch up with him. “Listen, about what I said--”

Solomon stops sharply enough that Asmo almost runs into him, but Solomon uses his magic to help steady Asmo. It isn’t to be helpful, it’s to stop Asmo from getting close enough to touch him, as if that will protect him from all of these hurt, churning emotions. He exhales through his nose.

“Since you’re actually taking the time to go to the library… I don’t think you need my help anymore.” Solomon forces himself to look at Asmo, steeling himself against whatever petulant expression is probably on the other’s face.

“Right?”

Asmo’s face is not petulant in the slightest. He seems… upset? Solomon feels the beast snarl inside him, a lick of rage at the downtrodden expression on the other’s face. He gets caught shit talking him openly and then has the gall to look hurt when he gets his free tutoring cut off? Asmo’s family is disgustingly rich and well connected. Let him lose his pride and ask them for help.

Solomon will last the year. He and Simeon will room together next year. Asmodeus will not be what breaks him.

Asmo falters at the intensity of Solomon’s gaze, the severity of his words.

“... Right.” Asmo says, and Solomon lets his feet carry him away before either of them say anything else.

- - -

After a week of tense, peaceful avoidance, Satan dropping into the seat opposite him at the campus coffee shop is the last thing Solomon expects.

“I apologize for my conduct the other day.”

Solomon blinks at him.

What is Satan doing here? Irritation immediately blossoms in his chest--he may not be furious anymore, but that doesn’t mean he wants to see Satan, nor had he expected to.

After cancelling their tutoring sessions, he’s made it a point to spend as little time in their (when had it become their room? It was always Asmo’s room at first) room as possible. Sure, it means spending garbage amounts of money on overpriced coffee and shitty wi-fi when the library gets too stuffy, but at least he can breathe.

None of that explains why Satan is here. Apologizing to him. Surely it must be some kind of a trap? A childish prank? Really? Would Asmo stoop so low? He doesn’t know either of these brothers enough to truly say. It’s best for him to be polite for now, until he can figure out Satan’s true motiv--

“You realize that a lot of people don’t trust you because there’s a moment on your face where you look like you’re actively plotting, and then you say some polite nonsense,” Satan says, and Solomon’s brain stops like a record screeching.

“Is this really an apology.” Solomon says, drily. Satan shrugs his shoulders.

“That was an observation. This is the apology.” Satan clears his throat, looking Solomon straight in the eyes. “It was unbecoming of me to speak of you like that in public. I should know better, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s what you thought,” Solomon says, because it’s true. It’s what they all think, and for a good chunk of his life, Solomon rarely tried to make them think differently.

“It was ignorant.” Satan’s bright green eyes stare into his own, and Solomon senses no dishonesty in his words. When Solomon speaks, he finds that he actually might believe them.

“Apology accepted.” Now leave me alone.

Satan narrows his eyes, “Really?” Solomon resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, really.”

“Will you speak to my brother again, then?”

“It’s a little presumptuous of you to ask for my forgiveness and a favor in the same breath.”

“Asmo flunked the last test,” Satan says, in lieu of a proper answer, “He’s in a world of shit at the moment.”

“Why doesn’t he try flirting with the professor?” Solomon scoffs.

Satan props his chin up on his hand with a lopsided smile that’s far more relaxed than he’s ever seen from the fourth brother, “That’s the thing, he hasn’t. Lucifer chewed him out about it and he took it with his tail between his legs rather than kick up a fit about it too.” Solomon’s quick mind lets him skip over the next lines of whatever shitty banter they’ve got to reach Satan’s point.

“You want me to tutor him again.” Solomon asks in disbelief, despite himself. Satan snorts and leans back.

“Nothing so pedantic as that,” Satan waves the notion away, “Just stop avoiding him at every turn, and hear what he has to say. If you’re still mad at him after that, then that’s perfectly reasonable too, considering my brother is one of the biggest assholes to ever exist. He’s unbearably dramatic when he gets into fights with his friends.”

“... Friends?”

Satan stares at him like he’s grown another head, “Obviously.”

Solomon laughs so hard, he’s sure that he’s confirmed all of Satan’s weird opinions of him.

-

-

-

“Solomon?” Asmo breathes his name, hand lingering on the doorknob as he enters the room to see Solomon sitting in his desk chair.

“Satan talked to me,” Solomon says, reveling in the stunned look on Asmo’s face, before crossing his arms, ”He apologized for what he said. And then he asked me to at least hear you out because you’re sulking.”  Asmo pouts at Satan’s words, and Solomon quirks his brow.

“Is he wrong?”

In response to this, Asmo’s face looks pained, lips pressing together as he glances to the side. He’s like a petulant child, Solomon thinks, even if he’s somehow still amused by the other’s expression.

When Asmo looks at Solomon, and he throws his hands up in the air,  “I shouldn’t have said it. There, are you happy?”

“Not really,” Solomon admits, “I understand why your brother might think that of me, but to hear it from someone that I’m helping out...” He adds a little bit of a softer, sadder tone to his voice to make Asmo writhe, and ha, does it work.

Asmo groans, ruffling his hands through his hair, “Alright, I’m a dick! Are you happy? I’m a gossipy bitch and I say things I shouldn’t. You helped me out and I.. took advantage of it. I’m sorry!” Asmo’s arms cross, and he looks so genuinely uncomfortable that Solomon wants to laugh.  

“You’re terrible at this. I was confused as to why Satan might say I can still be mad at you after you say your piece but.. I get it. You’re even worse than he is at it, dare I say.”

“You haven’t met our eldest brother,” Asmo sniffs, before continuing, “Besides, words and emotions are hard, bodies are easier,” Asmo shrugs, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“You sound like a bad high school drama,” Solomon scoffs, rolling over Asmo’s affronted gasp, “In any case, I heard you flunked the last test we shared. Maybe if you spent less time flirting with the TA in that class, you could retain the information on the board.” Solomon brings his knuckles to his chin, holding his elbow in his other palm.

“It can’t be helped. If we can get you set up with some extra credit there and you ace the next few exams that should keep your grade above water.” Solomon runs the numbers in his head, but Asmo is waving his hands in the air.

“Wait, wait, waaaait! You’re forgiving me?”

“I’m considering it. You have to make it up to me somehow, but as for the tutoring.. we’re too close to exams for me to want to deal with another roommate if you get yourself suspended. I don’t have blackmail material on anyone else, unfortunately.” Solomon’s kidding about the blackmail, but Asmo deserves a little ribbing after that awful apology.

Although Asmo doesn’t seem offended by the joke. No, it actually seems to be... the opposite? As he speaks, Asmo’s looking at him with a blinding smile.

“Are you listening to me?” Solomon frowns, knocked off balance by Asmo’s expression, “Because if you aren’t, I swear i’m going to--”

A flurry of motion, Asmo crosses the space of their room quicker than Solomon’s ever seen him.

Asmo’s hand cups his face, the other lands on his hip; Solomon has very little time to think, because Asmo’s gorgeous face is in centimeters away from his own. The scent of Asmo’s perfume fills his senses, rendering him stunned--Asmo glances down at his parted lips, and then back up at Solomon’s eyes.

Asmo kisses him, and Solomon’s magic blows out the fuses in their entire building.

-

-

-

In the chaos of their plunge into darkness, Solomon’s hands shooting out to shove Asmo back accidentally activates his magic, and Asmo stumbles a few paces further before falling to the ground.

“Ah,” Asmo yelps, at the same time Solomon rises from his seat, “What the hell, Asmo?”

They’re not in total darkness, thanks to the dim light from the streetlamps outside, but it still takes Solomon’s eyes a few seconds to adjust. Asmo’s vague form is still seated on the floor, propped up on his elbows.

“What was that?” He demands, still haunted by the firm press of Asmo’s lips against his. Asmo shifts to get up, and Solomon’s arm immediately reaches out to offer his assistance. Asmo huffs at the motion, but takes his hand anyway.

“I thought I could make it up to you this way.”

“By offering to, what, make out with me?” Solomon says, disbelief mounting. Asmo shrugs his shoulders, one hand trailing up Solomon’s hip.

“Sure, we could do that. We could do whatever you want,” and now that Solomon’s eyes have adjusted to the dim lighting, he can see the coy smile playing at Asmo’s lips, “I see how you look at me, how could you not? Besides, you’re quite handsome yourself…” Asmo purrs, his free hand reaching up to graze against Solomon’s blushing cheeks.

For a moment, Solomon hesitates--Asmo is gorgeous. Even if Solomon were deaf to the campus’ adoration of him, he would have to be blind as well to not realize that just by existing near Asmo. There’s always a mix of challenging and inviting in his eyes, an ease that shows itself in all of his movements. Asmo exudes a level of sensual energy that is a powerful skill in its own right, and Solomon is a healthy young adult…

But Solomon has no desire to fall into Asmo’s bed like another one of his hundreds of admirers, clamoring to get into the other’s bed space. He has more important things in mind.  

“That’s not what I meant by making it up to me!” Solomon is very proud of his voice not cracking as he pushes Asmo’s hand away, and the coquettish expression is quickly replaced by Asmo’s pout.

“Well, how else am I supposed to show you how truly repentant I am!” He whines at his failed seduction.

“I can’t even begin to explain how screwed up that is, Asmo.” Solomon groans, running his hand through his hair, “You could have offered me another shelf in the bathroom cabinet or more sink space and I would have considered it a start.”  

Asmo blinks, tilting his head to the side, “... Really? That’s all you want?” He seems stunned that someone would turn down his body.

“Now that I know you were going to offer your body, half of the sink sounds too fucking small, doesn’t it?” Solomon retorts, and Asmo laughs.

A loud knock startles both of them out of their conversation, and he hears the muffled voice of their RA from the other side.

“Are you alright in there? There’s been a power outage -- will you be alright casting magelight, or do you need flashlights?”

Solomon, in desperate need of a reprieve from Asmo’s… Asmo-ness… goes to open the door as the RA speaks. After a quick exchange of assuring the doting senior in their pajamas, Solomon shuts the door with a sigh. When he turns around, Asmo is seated in his desk chair with a soft pink magelight floating idly nearby. Asmo seems to be deep in thought, and Solomon approaches him with slight hesitation.

As soon as Solomon gets closer, Asmo’s gaze snaps up to look at him so suddenly that Solomon almost balks.

“I know what I can do for you,” Asmo says, his eyes twinkling with mischief and utter glee. The pink light casts an almost eerie, and somehow still enticing shadow on the other’s face.  

Solomon isn’t too proud to admit he’s terrified by whatever Asmo is about to offer.

-

-

-

“... So you didn’t sleep with him?” Simeon asks, and Solomon chokes on his tea.

“What! Of course not!” He coughs through his instantaneous response, pounding his fist on his chest. “He said… oh hell, I can’t say this, it’s ridiculous.” Solomon covers his face with his hands, an unbidden blush rising to his cheeks.

“He said he was going to make me popular,” Solomon groans, a little quieter in volume. Simeon is silent for a long enough time that Solomon takes his face out of his hands to look at him questioningly, but Simeon’s got one hand over his mouth as he shakes in stifled amusement.

“Wh--” At Solomon’s confused expression, Simeon is unable to contain himself any longer, bursting into a loud fit of laughter. Simeon throws his arms around Solomon in a crushing hug, even as Solomon tries to shove his way out of it.

“Oh, this is going to be great.”  

-

-

-

I feel like this would definitely be considered #crack or #ooc slightly because it’s always hard to translate personalities that are defined by specific experiences (such as being alive for thousands of years) into any AU, but especially ones where they’re only 19/20 year olds lmaaoo

Facets of their personalities I tried to keep: Solomon’s ambition/the fact that people think he’s so shifty, and Asmo’s sexual bravado/blatant insecurities of his person. Who knows if that comes off here, but hey, I had fun lkajflaks

As always, ty for reading!!! I appreciate your kind words and responses on my stuff ;w;

#ch: asmo #ch: solomon #pr: asmo/solomon #obey me fic #obey me asmodeus #obey me solomon #writing #ch: simeon #is here #and so is #ch: satan

[fromkaermorhentolettenhove]

The Eternity of Bliss - Chapter 1

Summary: Jaskier has been living in the non-magical world for several years now, protecting it from anything that might sneak though the barrier that separates this place from the one he calls home. 

When clusters of monsters begin to appear, threatening both worlds, it’s then Jaskier is assigned to partner up with Geralt, the best Hunter known on the continent, to clean up this mess.

In an instant, Jaskier’s life is turned on its head as he and Geralt deal with Destiny, deadly attacks, and falling in love.

Rating: T

Genre: 1920s Urban Fantasy, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Fate&Destiny

Words: 2871

A/N: on ao3 the rating is M because there’ll eventually be one chapter of smut, i just don’t know when yet

(also 100% inspired by joey’s role in war of the worlds;;;;)

-

AO3

or

Jaskier’s life was as normal as they came. 

A cushy office job, a number of acquaintances, and considering the economy, he was doing well for himself. 

The clacking of typewriters was a nice familiarity day to day, noisy car horns in the streets, and needing to wrap his trench coat around him when the wind blew. He was thankful that of all places to be assigned, it was right in the middle of London where he could have his days of excitement amongst the regimented schedule. 

It was one rather ordinary day when Jaskier was sitting at his desk, typing up the latest reports from management. One line in particular was giving him trouble and it was now his fourth time typing up this single page. Jaskier was about to give up when the sound akin to bursting flames caught his attention. 

Sneaking a glance around, Jaskier tugged his desk drawer open and flipped the cover of his star-studded notebook to the first page. 

Come at once was all the message read and Jaskier checked the large grandfather clock at the front of the room. It was close enough to his lunch and he gave a friendly nod to the men in the desks around him as he tucked the notebook into his front pocket. Grabbing his hat and coat, Jaskier left before anyone could question.

Once in the busy streets, Jaskier kept his head down, hands in his pockets as he weaved through crowds. He glanced over his shoulder every so often before he took his next turn, eventually finding himself down a dingy alley. 

The door at the end was dilapidated, barely hanging on its hinges and mice scurried out from it. Placing his hand on the door, Jaskier muttered a single word, watching as his hand glowed. The door shifted, shuffling into place as the wood became speckled with gold, the frame around it molding back together. Taking a step back, Jaskier waited until the door swung open and he stepped inside to a grand entrance. 

Large steps descended before him, the upper floors above packed with people as they bustled to and fro. The ceiling arched high, a glass dome that allowed sunlight to pour in. Jaskier followed his path down the stairs, only interrupted by a group of fairies that flew past him. Frowning at the group, Jaskier continued on, past the department of Magical Mishaps where he could hear explosions from behind several doors. 

Down, down he went until at last he reached a gate guarded by two wolves. 

“Triss sent for me,” Jaskier told them and the wolves gave him a wary look before stepping aside. 

Opening the gate, Jaskier approached a table where a woman stood, several maps opening with the wave of her hand. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she examined them and she didn’t notice Jaskier until he cleared his throat. 

“Oh, Jaskier,” she smiled and waved the maps back onto the table. “Timely as always. Just waiting on your partner and then I’ll begin the debriefing.”

“Hello, Triss. Um, partner?” Jaskier asked, his heart jumping with nervous excitement. 

It had been a while since Jaskier was required to work with someone else. He was always happy to make a new friend, even if this was supposed to be just work.

The gate behind him opened and Jaskier froze when he recognized the face. This couldn’t be his partner, yet there was no one else trailing behind the man who walked in with an intimidating stride. He took off his hat, a nod as his greeting as he took his place next to Jaskier. Golden eyes bore into Jaskier for just a moment before he turned his attention away. 

“Geralt,” Triss acknowledged him before snapping her fingers and a trail of golden dust circled above the table. “We’ve had a breach in one of our borders.”

She swiped her hand across the dust, a map of London appearing with intricate accuracy. “Nothing too miserable got out, but there’s a lot and not much time to contain them. Jaskier is your Tracer.”

Jaskier smiled at Geralt, only getting a raised eyebrow in return. 

“Report back when you’ve cleared them out and we’ll check the city once more,” Triss continued on. 

Jaskier’s stomach turned and he slowly raised his hand. “Is the breach just in London?”

Triss sighed. “Unfortunately not. There’s been reports coming in from all over the world. We’re looking into it, but right now, it just seems like the usual case of overlooking.”

Nodding his understanding, Jaskier found himself having to catch up with Geralt as the man quickly stalked out of the room. Once they were back above ground and out of the building, Geralt led them into busier streets, stopping so suddenly that Jaskier crashed into him. 

“Sorry,” Jaskier mumbled, readjusting his coat and hat as he stood next to Geralt. “I must say it’s an honor to finally be working with you.”

“Is it?” Geralt spoke, harsh and low, his eyes darting about. 

“You’re the best Hunter there is, you’re legendary, Geralt,” Jaskier couldn’t help himself, recounting every story he ever heard about the man.

Geralt grunted, but didn’t stop Jaskier from jabbering on for the next few minutes. The man humored him, not interrupting once, and it was then Jaskier calmed his racing mind with a shy smile.

“So, are we just standing here then?” Jaskier collected himself. 

“I was waiting for you to start the Trace,” Geralt replied. His mouth had formed a thin line, yet his eyes shone with something kinder and Jaskier cleared his throat. 

“Right, of course.” 

Taking a breath, Jaskier focused the energy within him before he snapped his eyes open. To the common observer, Jaskier appeared to be staring at the crowd with heavy intent. However, only Geralt could see the blue flames bursting from his eyes, encapsulating even the whites. 

“Shipyard,” Jaskier nodded towards the water. “Looks like goblins.”

The two men quickly made their way to the docks, Jaskier keeping his Trace on in case the goblins started moving. Luckily, Geralt was at the advantage and he was quick to pounce on a couple, sending them back to the proper world with a golden portal he pulled from thin air. 

Jaskier kept his distance–having learned his lesson of staying out of a Hunter’s way–and observed the area, still thick with goblin residue. He followed a few trails, finding only dead ends and eventually headed back to where he had left Geralt. 

Then, a sharp jab hit him in the stomach and Jaskier turned to the source. Magic was spiking all around him, poking at his skin as Jaskier scratched at nothing. A warehouse loomed not too far from him, the darkness in the windows foreboding. With a swallow, Jaskier crept over to the warehouse, peering over the edge of a sill. White flashed before his eyes and Jaskier covered his mouth to stop his scream. His chest began heaving with panic as he ran to find Geralt, nearly tripping over the man, who was searching crates for any last goblins. 

“There’s something,” Jaskier gasped between breaths. “In that warehouse over there.”

Geralt’s head snapped up and he marched over to the warehouse, Jaskier trailing behind him. As they got closer, the stabbing sensation began again and Jaskier twitched in annoyance. Geralt threw open the door to the warehouse, nothing but darkness greeting them. 

“Stay here,” Geralt motioned, drawing a silver sword out from his coat. 

Jaskier had no intention of that. To identify the creature was necessary, for records, for Jaskier to be able to stop the invisible needles that jabbed at his skin. Rushing in after Geralt, Jaskier strained his eyes, the small patches of light providing hardly any at all. Wind rushed past his ears and Jaskier ducked just in time. Silver swiped over his head followed by a snarl from Geralt. Lifting his head, Jaskier caught flashes of a dark-haired woman, pale skin, caught in the flashes of sun that peeked through broken rafters. Her hands swung at Geralt, missing, but a breath away each time. 

Jaskier’s eyes blurred as his pain intensified, screams clawing at his ears. His legs wobbled, his body shifting as he reached out for something to grab onto. Then, a veil lifted and Jaskier could breathe again. All was quiet, too quiet, a shiver running down Jaskier’s spine.

Jaskier fidgeted, his attempt to call for Geralt caught in his throat. The darkness began to morph and Jaskier took a stumbling step back. Geralt emerged, covered in blood but otherwise unharmed. Hunters never did kill unless there was no other choice and the thought sat heavy in Jaskier’s mind. With a sigh, Jaskier let the flames in his eyes die down as he rushed to meet the man halfway.

“How the hell did a fucking bruxa get past the wards?” Geralt ground out.

Jaskier could only shrug, just thankful that Geralt was alive and well. He pulled them both out of the warehouse, breathing in when the sun hit his skin.

“Get Triss. She needs to hear about this.”

Nodding, Jaskier pulled out a small golden container and unlatched the cover, trails of magic springing into the air. Triss’s face soon appeared as the colored dust collected itself into her form. 

“What’s happened, Jaskier?” She frowned. She looked frazzled and almost miffed by Jaskier’s call. 

“Bruxa,” Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s hand to make the container face him. 

Triss’s eyes went wide before she ran a hand down her face. “I was afraid of that.”

The two men waited as she collected herself, poised to her professionalism. 

“I ask that the two of you remain together and find a secure place to stay for now.”

Jaskier nodded as Geralt grunted, seemingly upset about the situation. 

“We’ll find out what’s going on. Then you can have them all to yourself, Geralt,” Triss glared at him. 

With that, she blinked out from the dust and the container snapped shut. 

“I should probably quit my office job then,” Jaskier commented as he put the container back in his coat pocket. 

“For the best,” Geralt agreed. “Come with me.”

A portal, once again laced in gold, opened in front of them and before Jaskier could protest, Geralt had taken hold of his arm, dragging him into the portal. Jaskier stumbled when they landed on a cobblestone street, a wave of nausea hitting him, yet Geralt gave him no time to recover. Long rows of buildings sat on either side of them and Geralt finally pulled them towards a black door, placing his hand on it. The door swung open allowing the two men in before it shut firmly behind them. Up a set of stairs, it was then there was one more door until Jaskier found himself in the middle of a living room. 

“My safehouse,” Geralt explained as he flicked his hand. 

Piles organized themselves as curtains shut and furniture rearranged. Geralt went around the room, murmuring a few more words, symbols shining in the air before dissolving. 

“Smart,” Jaskier finally spoke. “What will become of my flat?”

Geralt turned to him, holding his hands out for Jaskier’s coat and hat. “We’ll sort that out later.”

It wasn’t a comforting thought, but Jaskier couldn’t protest. After all, Geralt had brought him to a secret hideaway with no questions asked. After their coats and hats were hung up, Jaskier walked around the place, observing the kitchen and then the hallway that presumably led to a bathroom and bedrooms. He couldn’t help run a finger along a shelf, grimacing at the dust that coated his finger. 

“Bedroom on the left can be yours,” Geralt called from the living room. 

“Thank you,” Jaskier replied, then searching about the kitchen. 

He took off his suit coat, draping it on a nearby chair, and unbuttoned his vest, finding the atmosphere just a tad stuffy. Things clearly hadn’t been moved in a while and Jaskier tapped his fingers on the counter, letting his magic take over. A teapot flew past his head, filling up in the sink before settling on the gas stove, blue wisps swirling around the steam. Jaskier leaned against the counter once a towel wiped it off and stared at the fixtures and wallpaper. It was too modern for his tastes. He missed his cottage in the other world, the simple stonework and fireplace. 

While the non-magic world was getting along fine with their inventions, Jaskier could never get used to the horseless carriages and the dullness of telegrams. Non-magical folk just seemed to want more and more, never happy with what they had already. However, Jaskier could only critique from the sidelines, content with the knowledge that he wouldn’t have to stay in this world forever.

The kettle was soon boiling and Jaskier prepared two cups of tea for Geralt and himself. Not wanting to disturb the other man, Jaskier sent Geralt’s cup floating into the other room while he settled down at the kitchen table. 

As he took his first sip, Geralt appeared in the doorway with his cup in hand. He had taken off his suit coat as well, tie loosened, but still hanging around his neck. The blood on him had been vanquished, leaving clean, yet wrinkled clothing behind. 

“Thank you. You know my kitchen better than me.”

Jaskier laughed a little at this, resting his head in his hand. “The magic helps. Tell me, Geralt, did you always want to be a Hunter?”

Geralt pulled out a chair and sat diagonal to Jaskier, his expression neutral. “I didn’t really have a choice. What with my lineage and all...”

The family of Rivia was well-renowned for their Hunters, so much so that Jaskier had grown up on stories about them. It had been his dream to one day work with someone from the family and now he had finally gotten his chance. 

“What about you?” Geralt interrupted Jaskier’s thoughts. 

With a small grin, Jaskier sat back in his chair. “I was too restless to be a Healer. Tracing just works best for me. I get action but with how clumsy I can be with weapons, I don’t have to take that additional risk.”

The two drifted into silence, regarding each other over their cups of tea. Jaskier couldn’t help but study Geralt when the man wasn’t looking. How stern his face was, but he was an expression of calm as they sat together. For just a little while, Jaskier forgot that he was supposed to be in hiding and rather, that he was just spending a nice afternoon with Geralt. 

“Are you always this happy?”

Jaskier laughed. “I try to be. Oh, I can be serious when the situation calls for it, but why deny when my heart feels light?”

Geralt let out a small hum, his eyes flickering away from Jaskier. There seemed to be the faintest trace of a smile on his face and Jaskier was sure it was one of the most beautiful things he had seen all day. 

“Well,” Jaskier cleared his throat. “Any house rules I should be aware of? Pet peeves?”

“Just pick up after yourself,” Geralt mused over the rim of his cup. 

Jaskier couldn’t help the laugh that left him. “You know, Geralt, I think this is the start of something exciting. If only all flatmates could be like you.”

“You wouldn’t want that,” Geralt teased back. “I’m insufferable once you get to know me.”

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” Drinking the last of his tea, Jaskier set to cleaning up the small pile of dishes that had accumulated in Geralt’s sink. 

He started humming as he rolled up his sleeves, flicking his wrist to levitate the soap and washcloth. 

“I can do my own dishes,” Geralt was suddenly beside him. 

“Well, today I’m doing them. I believe you’ve got some piles in the living room to sort through, so you go and do that.”

“Are you my housekeeper now?” Geralt retorted.

“I should hope not,” Jaskier laughed. “But since I’m living with you for the time being, we should split the chores.”

“You’re my guest.”

“And this guest wants to do the dishes.”

Geralt pursed his lips but fought no further, leaving the room to let Jaskier do as he pleased. Delighted with his win, Jaskier finished the dishes before conjuring more magic to organize and scrub down the entire kitchen. Time was forgotten and it was after sundown when Jaskier had finished. When Geralt re-entered the kitchen, he froze in the doorway, his eyes darting about. 

“Got a little carried away,” Jaskier gave a sheepish smile. 

“It’s...nice.”

“Oh, look,” Jaskier threw open a cupboard. “There wasn’t any real system here so I put the mugs on this shelf and plates on this one. Bowls and saucers are here.”

Jaskier continued to show Geralt his new kitchen, receiving only hums and grunts in return. Geralt took to it all quickly and when dinner came around, he proved that he did indeed listen to Jaskier’s every word. 

Despite the day’s events, Jaskier was starting to feel at home and he could only hope in time that Geralt would become a very dear friend.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #indigo's side shitposting

[naly1109]

Your Lovely Wicked Soul

Summary: Witch au, Reader X Bang Chan feat. Stray Kids (Narrator's POV)

Summary: Y/N is well known and beloved amongst the people of her home village. Being a powerful Witch, she helps the people using her Gifts to increase crops, heal the sick, and protect the townsfolk and other favors. When her Grandfather sends her away to save her from the misfortune of becoming the awful King’s bride, he sends her across worlds into the hands of a man bearing an uncanny resemblance to the tyrant King.

~Chapter 3~

To My Beloved Y/N,

I hope you are faring well in the other world I have sent you to. I am writing you this letter knowing that I have sent you away. I had Foreseen the King coming with the Members of the Witch Society and how he would try to take you away by force. I had tried to think up many different ways to keep the events leading up to my death and your departure from happening, but unfortunately there was no way around it. Each scenario I Foresaw would end in my death, with you being taken by Talmas and abused to do his bidding. I would not allow my Granddaughter to live such a horrible fate as the one I Foresaw, even if it meant giving my life so you may be safe. I told you that I would be sending you to someone who could help. I am sending you to the last known location of a Witch that was banished to that world over two decades ago, and it will be a while before they make their presence known to you. They will be able to help you increase your Gift’s power to return home and put a better King upon the throne, and soon. For I have also Foreseen that, in a year’s time, Talmas will wage a massive war using Witches, none like our history has ever seen, and it will leave our world in ruin and with the near annihilation of Witches. I am sorry I cannot give you details, for if I reveal anything too soon, it can alter the fate of our world. This is the fate I have Foreseen for you for many years, even before your father, I just didn’t know it was my own Granddaughter until I held you for the first time. I know you will miss me greatly, for I will miss you too, but know that I am reunited with your Grandmother, to watch you from the Stars with your Father and Mother. I am proud to be your Grandfather and I love you more than words could describe. You brought light into my life and made it enjoyable. Stay blessed my Little Opal Star.

With Love and Adoration,

Your Gaba, Lessio

Y/N reads the letter for what might be the 100th time today, wiping away tears. She is currently waiting for the men to return from their shooting so she could ask if they know anything of the Witch sent here years ago. She gets bored waiting in the living room for the object they called a ‘clock’ to put its arms in the position Felix said it would be in when they arrived, so she goes to the kitchen. Y/N always felt more at ease in the kitchen back at home, making delicious meals for her and Gaba, or mixing herbs for medicine and ointments. She looks around the kitchen and can make out what some of the objects are and what they are used for, but some things seem quite foreign to her.

Y/N heads for the thing Jeongin called a ‘fridge’ to grab some of the delicious banana’s milk. She allows her curiosity to get the better of her and she begins rummaging through the boys’ kitchen to see what other items she could find that are similar to what she used back at home. As she sips on her banana milk and rummages through the kitchen, the boys finally arrive back from their shooting.

“Oh, thank the Stars! I was beginning to get bored.” Y/N says as she approaches the boys. “So what did you bring back from your shooting?” she asks, looking at the boys’ hands expectedly, only to find that they brought no kills. “Did you not fair well with the game? Maybe I can go with you next time. I am an excellent hunter.” she finishes with a small smile.

The boys exchange a look of confusion. “Um. We didn’t go hunting. We went to a Variety Show shoot.” Seungmin tells Y/N. “And you could’ve turned the TV on if you were bored instead of pulling apart our kitchen.” he says, eyeing the mess of cooking utensils and dishes, the rest of the boys’ glance over to see what he is talking about.

“The irritating flat box would not power on for me, so I let it be. Besides, it hurts my head thinking of how you get those people in there. Do they feel cramped in there? Or is it like my Cloak where there is a large space made beyond the fabric?” Y/N asks as she moves towards the kitchen to put away everything she pulled out.

The boys go to help her, but recall she doesn’t need it when the items all levitate and return to their places in the kitchen.

“It's called technology, and it's complicated.” Chan says while dodging a pan that is flying to its place in the cabinet behind him. “We use it for everything from transportation, to communication, to entertainment, to medicine. It's not a ‘Gift’ or ‘Spell’, but something that was invented by someone a long time ago, and improved by many great minds over the years to get us what we have today.”

“That sounds like a Gift to me.” Y/N states after she considers his response for a minute. “It may not manifest the way ours does back home, but it is a power unique to your world that continues to develop and advance, it is used for everyday tasks, and it is provided by a few and accessible to everyone. Sounds like how Gifts work back in my world.” She points out the similarities between Gifts and what they call ‘technology’.

“I mean… She has a point, Hyung.” Felix says, understanding Y/N’s point of view.

Y/N pauses, “What’s a variety show? And why do you shoot it?”

Hyunjin answers her this time, “It's a show that does a variety of activities and challenges and games. And we shoot it using cameras. They are equipment used to capture our images and then send them to everyone’s TV, or what you called ‘irritating flat box’.” He moves to try to power up the TV, discovering that the remote needs new batteries.

Y/N nods, processing the new information Hyunjin provided. She has so many more questions on how so many other things in their world work, but they would have to wait. Right now, she needed to find the Witch that could help her back home. Whoever they are, Y/N really hopes she will find them soon.

“Would you guys happen to know of any other  person who may have appeared in a similar manner as I in recent decades?” Y/N decides to question the boys before going further off the topic she’s been waiting to discuss with them. “I found a letter in Gaba’s Grimoire addressed to me. And in the letter, he tells me that he is sending me to the last known location of a Witch banished here over 20 years ago. It’s really important that I find them.”

“I’ve never heard of another person from another world coming in how you did.” Jisung stated. “And some of us may not have been born yet.” he adds.

“I guess that’s true.” Y/N says, rubbing at her chin in thought. “Would you happen to have access to an archive? Somewhere information is stored? Perhaps, if I can find an inexplicable string of odd events, it can lead me to them.”

The boys all think about it for a moment. Chan is the one who answers. “I think we might be able to go to the library and search through old newspapers and stuff there for any odd, unexplainable events. Our schedule is open for the rest of the day, so we can help her out.” he suggests to the boys, and they all nod in agreement.

“Wait.” Hyunjin stops and gets everyone’s attention. “Don’t you think that all of us walking up into a library with a girl will grab some attention? Add to that, the girl we’re walking in with has freakishly unusual eyes.” Everyone’s eyes shift to the outworlder.

“You can change them using a Spell, can’t you?” Jeongin asks Y/N with wide eyes.

“I could, but a Spell like that will require a lot of focus on my part. So if my focus shifts to anything but the Spell, it will stop working.” She answers the youngest boy.

“Um, how about contacts?” Jisung suggests. “I have a spare blue colored pair in the bathroom?”

“I think that’ll be our best bet.” Chan agrees, and Jisung turns to run to the bathroom to retrieve the contacts.

“What are ‘contacts’?” Y/N asks, her voice hinting a bit of concern. Just then Jisung returns with the case containing the contacts. He hands them to Y/N and she looks at it questioningly, not sure what the boy expects her to do with the foreign object. Jisung looks at her and gives her an encouraging smile and nod. 

“Oh!” he says, realizing she doesn’t know what to do. “They are contacts to change the color of your eyes. You just put them in your eyes and blink.” He makes it sound easy. He takes the case from Y/N, opens it, and hands it back.

Y/N takes out the contact and examines it. She finds the curved, blue tinted piece of film odd on her finger, and she accidentally drops it. She picks it back up and she can see the specks of dirt on it. “Sorry.” she tells Jisung.

“That’s okay. I’ll go grab the solution to rinse it.” Jisung states before turning and heading back into the bathroom. “Here.” he says, coming back and grabbing the contact to rinse it with the solution. “Do you need help?” he questions and receives a nod from her.

“I’ll help you.” Chan offers before anyone else can, surprising himself. “That is, if you're okay with it.” he adds, not wanting to sound too forward with her. He felt a pang of unexplainable jealousy when he thought of any of the other boys being so close with her.

Y/N looks at Chan. “Yes.” she says. She blinks, surprised at her answer, for she had intended to decline.

Chan fights a smile as he approaches Y/N to assist her. His heart in a frenzy at the thought of her being close to him. He grabs the contact case and puts it down, then he grabs the contact from her and takes a step closer to her.

Y/N feels herself stiffen as the distance between them lessens, her heart making little erratic jumps. She swallows and hopes it goes unnoticed by the man in front of her, and by the ones still currently in the room watching as though they were watching a theater play.

“I’m gonna hold your eye open while I put in the contact. I don’t want to hurt you, so try not to flinch away, okay?” Chan states with a reassuring hand on her shoulder, holding the contact on his index finger of the other hand.

Y/N nods and allows him to touch her face. Only two people have ever touched her face in her life, aside from her parents she would assume, and they are Gaba and Ember. So the sensation of Chan’s warm hand resting on her cheek while his fingers held her eyelids open was odd. He gently put the contact into place on her eye and she fought the urge to flinch or blink. Then repeats the action with the other eye.

“There. Now blink a few times to help them align with your irises. How does it feel?” he asks after she blinks vigorously for a few seconds.

“It feels weird, like there is access film on my eyeball.” she responses, going to rub her eye.

Chan grabs her hand to stop her. “Don’t do that. You might irritate it.” he gently puts her hand back down to her side. She looks at the boys and they remain silent while they look at her. 

“It’s the lightest shade of blue eyes I have ever seen,” Hyungin speaks up. “But who is to say that there aren’t people out there who have that eye color.” he reasons and the boys nod in agreement.

“Okay then. Let’s go to the library.” Chan says, clapping his hands to get the boys moving. They all grab hats, masks, and sunglasses to hide their identity for when they want to go on outings undisturbed.

“Why are you all covering your faces?” Y/N asks as she watches the boys put on their disguises.

“We’re celebrities here, we’re part of a music group called ‘Stray Kids’, so a lot of people know our names and faces. So to protect ourselves and our friends that we go out with, we wear masks and sunglasses with hats.” Minho answers her question, and she can make out a smile behind his mask.

“Oh.” Y/N nods her head. She understood what it was like wanting to hide one’s identity to protect oneself. When she accomplished the 50 Gift combination Spells, it gathered the attention of nearly every village within a two days travel, and everyone wanted to get a look at the young Witch who accomplished what most Witches may never achieve. Even if it meant waiting outside her house for days just waiting to have her bless whatever the outsiders wanted, from vegetable seeds to cattle to babies. After about six weeks of people coming through the village and staying for days, the villagers of Old Stone Village had had enough, and chased every non-resident out.

Everyone grabs their coats to wear for the slightly chilly weather. Y/N grabs her Cloak and goes to put it on. “Wait.” Hyunjin stops her, again,  “You don’t really plan on wearing a whole ass Cloak in public, do you?” he says with a raised brow, tone laced with disapproval.

Y/N looks at the man and then around at the rest of the boys. She sees the throw over hoodie Jisung is wearing and decides to copy that. With a wave of her hands and a Spell, she changes the appearance of her Cloak to be a teal colored version of Jisung’s hoodie. “There. Now let's go.” Y/N says, throwing on the hoodie.

~

Y/N is in absolute awe when they walk into the library. She has never in her life seen so many books in one place. The largest collection of books she has seen was in Gaba’s study, and this library made it look like a sorry collection in comparison. Everywhere she looked there were books. Her eyes lit up at the thought of spending endless hours of reading and having it not be the same content over and over.

“You must really like books.” Chan says, smiling at Y/N’s awestruck face, taking note of her reaction.

“Oh yes!” Y/N states with enthusiasm. “I love reading. Ever since I was a little girl and Gaba bought me the first book of ‘The Adventurous Life of Mildie Posh’. She was my favorite fictional Witch. My best friend, Ember, and I would take turns acting out some of the stories in her books.” Y/N shares with a warm smile, and Chan can’t help but smile as well.

“Where should we go to start looking.” Changbin asks, bringing Chan’s attention to him.

“Oh. Right. Um, let me ask.” Chan says looking around for a librarian. When he spots one a little ways away, walking away from where they are, he quickly jogs to catch up.

The boys take this opportunity to question Y/N.

“So.” Minho starts, “What’s going on between you and Chan?” he asks when Y/N turns to look at him.

Y/N's eyes go wide, “What do you mean?” she asks innocently, genuinely confused by his question.

“Oh, come on. We see the way you guys look at each other. And we can practically feel the tension in the air when you are in close proximity to each other.” Minho says. The boys all have their eyes on Y/N, waiting for her answer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There is no tension or looking at each other going on between Chan and I.” face feeling slightly heated at the prospect of being in that kind of relationship with Chan.

“Chan totally got jealous when I offered to help you put in the contacts. And he was practically mentally stabbing Hyunjin yesterday when he was trying to help you with your chopsticks. He’s never acted that way towards a girl, even the ones who have confessed to him.” Jisung says, watching Y/N’s face turn pink at his words.

Just then, Chan comes jogging back up. “Okay, the librarian said we can find all the old newspapers on the second floor.” He looks around the group and notices awkward faces and a slightly flushed Y/N. “What were you guys talking about?” he asks with an eyebrow quirked up.

“Nothing.” all the boys say in unison before they all walk towards the stairs, leaving Chan and Y/N behind. Chan looks at Y/N and she just shakes her head at him then scurries off to join the rest of the boys, leaving Chan feeling like he just missed something important.

~

Several hours pass while looking for any information that may help Y/N find the Witch she is looking for. The boys helped with the search while also showing each other different stories they would find about murders, celebrity gossip, or a scandal that a politician may or may not have been involved in. Eventually, the librarian came to inform them that the library would close in an hour.

“Ugh! All this information we’ve sifted through, and not a single clue as to where this Witch might be!” Jisung exclaims, earning several shushes from the few people still in the library. “Sorry.” he whispers.

“I don’t think we will find anything here.” Changbin says, groaning into his hands, his eyes feeling the strain of reading through so many articles for the past several hours.

“Changbin’s right.” Minho agrees, rolling his head back on his shoulders. “My eyes, shoulders, and back are starting to hurt.” He rolls his head to either side, neck popping. “Ah, yeah.”

“Okay. Let’s put this all away and go. I’m starving anyway.” Chan says, realizing they hadn’t eaten since before filming the variety show, and his stomach is protesting.

“Me too.” Y/N states from beside him. It made Chan happy when Y/N sat down next to him. She may have had no other choice since the other guys took all the other seats around the table by the time Y/N and Chan caught up. But nonetheless, he felt jolts of excitement each time she would ask him to clarify a word or phrase she was unfamiliar with. She didn’t look at his face once, but still, he swears he felt her eyeing his arms and hands.

Minho yawns from the other side of Y/N. He stretches his arms out, hands towards his head, to the sides. To avoid being hit by his elbow, Y/N leans away. Into Chan. He puts a hand on her back to brace her before she’s completely leaning on him. She feels his large hand splay out between her shoulders and panics.

What happens next is too great to miss:

Once Y/N goes into panic mode, she jolts upward to stand, but before she completes a full stance, her left eye comes into contact with Minho’s elbow that is still outward. They both jump away from the painful contact, Minho into Jeongin on his other side, causing their heads to collide in what sounded like the painful clash of blocks of wood (POOR JEONGIN!), and Y/N back into Chan. Before Chan can brace himself to catch Y/N, she lands on top of him, causing both of them to tumble back with the chair. Chan’s legs hit the table, causing it to tilt and toss the newspapers and books to the floor. Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung catch the table before it completely tilts over. Y/N lands on top of Chan, his arms around her as though to protect her small frame from being injured. Y/N realizes she is on top of Chan, hands on his chest, legs tangled together, and faces only centimeters away from each other. Y/N, once again, panics and goes to get up, kneeing Chan in the tenderparts, as Gaba called them. Chan lets out a loud groan and clutches his groin in pain.

“Oh my Stars! I’m so sorry!” Y/N says, quite loudly, when she sees Chan’s face become a crimson red, his veins in his neck becoming quite prominent as his face is twisted in pain.

“Holy shit.” Jisung says, leaning over from the other side of the table.

At this point, the librarian comes to see what the heck was going on with all the commotion, being quite annoyed. “What is going on over here?” he asks, giving the boys a sharp glare.

“I’m sorry, Mister,” Y/N says, giving the man her best innocent look, “It was an accident. We’ll clean it all up, I promise.”

The librarian looks at Y/N and practically melts, all the boys do, including Chan, who is still on the ground. “Okay. If you clean it all up, all is forgiven, but please keep it down.” he finishes with a stern look. He turns to take his leave, but not before receiving a nod of understanding from a few of the group, and the few other people remaining in the library go back to studying.

“What the heck?” Felix asks, “What was that feeling? Like I was just putty in your hands?”

“Sorry. The Spell affects the overall atmosphere and not the individual.” Y/N states sheepishly.

“You used a Spell just now? But I didn’t even see you wave your hands or anything.” Felix says.

“Not all Spells require hand motions. I just chanted in my head as I spoke.” Y/N clarifies. “Let’s hurry and get this picked up so we can eat.”

“I don’t think all of us staying is a good idea.” Minho states, “We tend to be rather loud together.” The other guys eye him with suspicion, knowing he has an ulterior motive. He’s Lee Know for Christ’s sake.

“I agree.” Seungmin says, “Those responsible for making the mess will stay and clean up. While those of us not responsible will go and get something to eat. And maybe take it to the house. Where it's okay if we make a mess.”

“Who’s responsible then, Hyung?” Jeongin asks, rubbing the lump on the side of his head, courtesy of Lee Minho.

“This is how it all played out,” Seungmin recalls the events, having witnessed how everything happened from one end of the table: *Insert Events From Above Here*

“So obviously Chan-Hyung, Minho-Hyung, and Y/N-Noona are responsible for the mess, and should stay to clean it up.” Seungmin finishes the story with a smug grin.

Everyone takes a moment to process the events described to them by Seungmin.

“I’ll pay for everyone’s meal if I don’t have to stay and clean up.” Minho raises his hand while he pitches the offer he knows none of them can refuse.

“Deal!” the ‘00 Line says in unison. Minho sports a triumphant smirk.

“Wha-!” Y/N and Chan say in unison, Y/N supporting Chan, keeping him from falling to the floor again in pain. She got him good.

“How is that fair, Man?” Chan asks in disbelief at his friend. Minho simply shrugs at his older member.

“Okay then, let’s go.” Changbin starts to lead the members out, leaving Y/N and Chan alone. For the second time today. Chan looks at Felix and Jeongin, and they both awkwardly avoid his gaze and leave to follow Changbin with Seungmin and Jisung.

“It’s okay,” Y/N tells Chan, “I’ll have this cleaned really quick.” She goes to raise her arms, and Chan grabs them to stop her.

“No, you can’t do that here. Remember?” Chan says quietly to her. Wide eyed, she nodded, heart flipping at his touch, causing her to step back before he noticed.

“We’ll text you when we decide on where to get food so you can let us know what you want.” Hyunjin informs Chan. “Minho-Hyung’s paying so we’ll eat well tonight.” he says with a sly grin to Minho that makes the older man regret his offer. Hyunjin turns to walk away with a wave, followed by Minho, and catch up with the others.

Once all the boys are well enough away from the pair, Jeongin turns to Minho, “Did you have to be so extravagant with it? My head hurts now, thanks to you.”

“Sorry. I didn’t expect her to jump away from him how she did. She must not have had many men interact with her where she’s from.” Minho smiles, slightly proud of his work.

“And I’m sure Lee Minho is proud of his accomplishment.” Minho beams at Hyunjin’s comment, and the younger rolls his eyes. “Still, was it necessary to leave them alone to clean? It was all your fault, after all.”

Minho’s smile broadens, “Of course! They’ll thank me later if they ever find out it was intentional.” he states, self-accomplishment written all over his face. Then he suddenly goes serious, "And if any of you intentionally try to throw me under the bus for this, I'll tell them you all gave me the idea." He says, eyes narrowed at the younger men.

“Whatever. Let’s go eat. I’m feeling chicken.” Jisung says, and the boys agree as they exit the library.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hello! And thank you so much for reading another chapter of my story! I greatly appreciate all who are reading and enjoying my work! ILYASM! Stay for the next one

#witch au #fanfic #stray kids #skz #bang chan #Lee Minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim Seungmin #yang jeongin #kpop

[christinaroseandrews]

Certified "Sex Doctor," Kira Murphy has always been a free spirit. She's passionate about preventing STIs, making sure kids get all of their vaccines, and celibri-stalking her favorite politician - Barclay Lucas. Sure, he might be a Tory (for U.S. Peeps that's the equivalent of the Republican Party), but despite his party trying to dismantle social protections he's one of the good ones. He's out to save the world and look good in a Savile Row suit. But celebrity crushes aside, Kira's out to make sure her patients receive the best care possible. So when a depressed, young man with HIV enters her examination room she's going to do what she can however she can to make sure he's given the help he so clearly needs.

Barclay Lucas has always been the responsible one. The reliable one. Mr. Fix-it. But when his brother, Henry, is diagnosed with HIV and falls into a depressive spiral, Barclay doesn't know what to do. However he doesn't need to, the eccentric and quirky doctor at the NHS hospital has managed to get through to him. But she's not his actual doctor. So Barclay needs to change that.

And with that, staid and conservative Barclay meets weird and wonderful Kira and their lives will never be the same.

I'm torn about this book. I've loved Susie Tate's writing in the past and Kira's been a long time favorite of mine since I first read about her in Beg, Borrow, and Steal. So I was super excited to read this book. I like politics stuff.(Anyone who knows me in Real life can tell you that). Plus, Anything but Easy has two of my favorite tropes -- Fake Dating and Enemies-to-Lovers -- it's like this book was tailor made for me. 

So why am I so torn?

Let’s start with the some of the good.

Kira is still her quirky fun self. She's unpredictable and has a very idiosyncratic way of speaking. I loved seeing her interact with her patients. She's like the definition of Manic Pixie Dreamgirl. She's tiny. Quirky. Out to save the world. And she possesses very little in the way of common sense or self preservation. But, just like the character herself says (which nice lampshade hang) she's a bit of an acquired taste. She reminds me in a lot of ways of Fandom!Darcy. You know the one who is able to draw Bruce out of his shell, keep up a prank war with Clint and/or Loki, and ride herd on all of the scientists while winning the heart of whatever avenger the author wants to pair her with. You know, that Darcy.  I like that Darcy.

But like Fandom!Darcy, Kira does some things that people in real life would find questionable or in really bad taste.

So I liked Kira. She’s a nicknamer. An idiosyncratic talker. She’s a bit like me, but with less fashion sense. 

So on to something I didn’t like.

The hero.

I don’t know if it’s me, but Barclay didn't grab me the way I wanted to. And I admit a lot of it is because of the current political climate. The Tory party is the one behind Brexit. The party of Boris Johnson, Theresa May, and Margaret Thatcher. I had a hard time rooting for him because for all that he was a nice guy, he's still on the political side of a party that has caused a great deal of harm to marginalized people. It’s like I said in a recent post, you may claim not to be a racist but if you support a racist institution and work to keep it in power then you are, in fact, a racist. That’s true here. The Tories are doing that in Britain just like the Republicans are doing that in the United States.

Barclay may care deeply about his brother. But he still felt his brother’s HIV diagnosis would hurt his political career.  This is something that actually happened in the book!!! 

He may like Kira’s quirkiness, but dear Gods is he embarrassed by it. He’s selfish. He does things that make it difficult for Kira to do her job effectively and doesn’t apologize for it. Because he doesn’t care about the people Kira is helping only himself.

So I didn't really like him.

Unfortunately, my dislike of the hero played into my "meh" feeling regarding the romance. It didn't land for me. The chemistry felt forced. It’s also the main reason I didn’t like The Duke, the Lady, and a Baby by Vanessa Riley.

I'm also leery of obsessed-fan hooks up with the object of their obsession and finds true love. As someone who has had to be the person to stand between the fan and the person they're obsessed with, I can tell you this isn't how it works. I’ve read a few other stories with this trope and it really bugs me. Probably because of the objectification but also because of my own experiences with being stalked.

Back to the good.

The writing is on point. Funny. Witty. Great banter. Seriously I really love Susie Tate's writing. The scenes with Henry and Kira's friends are some of the best. The creative nicknames and insults are faboo. I will need to add some of them to my repertoire.

Since Tate is a doctor herself in Britain the medical stuff is on point. I loved the scenes where Kira got to show just how awesome a doctor she was. Give me competence porn, I am so here for that.

The story toes the line on sexy. It's steamy and acknowledges that sex takes place but most of the scenes are closed door or hinted at. So people looking for super clean, this likely isn't for you. Nor is this for someone who wants spank bank material in their romance. I wasn’t in the mood for sex at the moment, so this worked. But I don’t like the moralizing that’s often in so-called “clean romances”... sometimes you don’t have to have explicit sex to have a good romance.

Back to the not so good. I wasn't the biggest fan of the ending. It was okay. Not bad, per se. Just not my cup of tea. I like to see more agency in my leads, and while Barclay had agency in his storyline, Kira did not.

Ask my editing clients and one of the things I tend to ding them on is characters, especially their female leads, having agency in their own stories. That they’re the ones driving the story arc and not the other characters -- particularly the male characters.

So while Kira’s story was resolved, she didn’t have a lot of agency in it. Which fed into Barclay tramping up and down all over her agency.

This book needs a whole heap of content warnings including: depression, suicidal ideation, frank discussion of STIs, frank discussion of HIV/AIDS, Medical truama, medical neglect (not by the heroses), sexual harassment, workplace sexual harassment, parental neglect/abandonment, mentions of past child neglect/abandonment, mentions of stillbirth/miscarriage, ableistic language in regards to mental illness, sexual assault, use of the g-slur in reference to clothing/appearance (This was not in reference to the Irish Travellers who do call themselves by the g-slur but in reference to clothing/appearance/lifestyle choices of two white characters.), use of food descriptors for POC skin (cappuchino instead of brown or Black), microaggressions in descriptions of natural hair (wild and unkempt). The last three are things that are easily correctable. But they are things that do exist and I hope the author educates herself as to why they are problems. (I provided links to some resources when I sent in my review so she can’t say that she wasn’t given sources. We’ll see where this goes.) In all, I liked and both disliked this book. I still love Kira. I loved Henry. Libby, Mark, and Millie are great as always. But because of the issues I've listed above I feel like I can only give this: Two Stars.

If this is your jam, you can get it here.

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I received an ARC of this book via NetGalley

#romance review #contemporary romance #medical romance #political romance #romantic comedy #this was a miss #I like the author's writing #but this didn't work #Susie Tate #Rose and Lark review books