#We are What is left Among the Ashes

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

“Are you gonna be a good girl?” || Young President!Coriolanus Snow x reader

Summary: Coryo's friends have always been and probably will always be condescending towards you. When you refuse to stay home when he invites them over for dinner, you become aware of the intricate control that Coriolanus has skillfully woven around you, highlighting a sense of submission in your actions.

Warnings: reader smoking, age gap (r is 18 and Coryo is 25), manipulative, controlling, toxic!coryo, power dynamic, condescending behaviour,

Wc: 740

A/n: crap summary but i kinda got inspired by Priscilla and I lowkey imagined cailee as Priscilla in this but u don’t have to. I LOVE THIS MOVIE SM 😭 also pretend Arachne is still alive.

"I want to visit my family later today, Coryo," you mention, casually flicking the ashes from your cigarette into the nearby ashtray. Coryo looks up from his newspaper, his gaze fixed on you. “What?”

"I want to see my family later today," you repeat, "I haven’t seen them in weeks." The sentiment is laced with a tinge of longing. With a cigarette delicately held between meticulously manicured nails, your painted lips articulate the words, the smoke swirling into the air.

A hush settles in the air until Coryo’s voice breaks the silence, his tone void of emotion. “You can’t. Not today,” he asserts, his attention returning to the newspaper. Your eyes fixate on him. “And why not?” You try not to raise your voice, but a hint of urgency slips through.

"Because, sweetheart, we have guests coming over for dinner." You roll your eyes. "And I want you here, yes?" he adds, pointing to you. “Who’s coming?” Coriolanus sighs deeply, dismissing the question with, “Does it matter?”

“Yes, it does matter. Who’s coming, Coryo?” Your tone grows more agitated. He casually shrugs, “Just a few of my friends, that’s all.” The harsh stubbing out of your cigarette emphasizes your displeasure.

"Your friends?" you question, annoyance evident in your tone. Sensing your irritation, he casually discards his newspaper to the side. “Yes, does that bother you?” he spat in response, his words carrying a tinge of defiance.

You let out an exasperated laugh, “You know how I dislike your friends, Coryo. They’re horrible to me!” You grip the armchair tightly, leaning towards him. You can practically feel the irritation radiating off you.

Coriolanus dismissively rolls his eyes. “Please. They’re not horrible to you. You’re being dramatic—” The room is charged with tension as your hand forcefully slams on the table. “Yes. They are. They belittle me, Coryo!” The weight of your words hangs in the air, your chest heaving from the emotional intensity of the outburst.

It's true. Whenever you're around Coriolanus' friends, it's hard not to notice the condescending vibe they throw your way, the snarky comments about anything and everything about you.

The memory of your wedding day remains vivid in your mind, etched with indelible images of raised eyebrows and skeptical glances from all of Snow's friends as you walked down the aisle. The collective gaze left you with a lingering sense of embarrassment. You were only 17, and he was 24.

You were well aware of the swarm of thoughts buzzing through their minds every time they saw you with Coriolanus. According to them, you were too young, too naive, too quiet, and perhaps even too unintelligent to hold the title of First Lady.

The unsolicited opinions seemed to echo a common sentiment: Coriolanus should have chosen someone closer to his age, someone who shared more similarities with him.

Conversations with his friends were always filled with subtly belittling comments that Coryo either didn't notice or chose to ignore.

Arachne stood out as the harshest among them all. Her comments, in particular, were cutting and had a way of driving you out of the room, often leaving you with tears streaming down your face.

In their eyes, you were just weak. A wife who sat there and looked pretty. But you were more than that, you knew that, hell, even Coriolanus knew that, but he never spoke up.

"They just like to tease you. Don't be so sensitive," he scoffs, the nonchalance in his tone amplifying your frustration. You gnaw at your lips as Coriolanus rises with a sigh, leisurely stretching his neck before heading to the nearby table to pour himself a glass of alcohol.

"I don't want to be here," you whisper loud enough for him to hear you. "I want to see my family, Coryo," your voice trembling with the urgency of your plea. "You can't deny me of seeing my own family," you exclaimed, the words escaping your lips with an urgency that surprised even you.

His response was swift, harsh. He took hold of your chin, his fingers digging into your flesh as he forced you to look at him. "You are to stay here, do you hear me?" he commanded, his voice cutting through the air.

The forcefulness of his grip left you momentarily breathless. Your attempt to pull away was futile as his gaze bore into you, a mix of anger and expectation in his eyes. Tears welled up, blurring your vision as a wave of helplessness washed over you.

As your gaze meets his with glassy, doe-like eyes, Coriolanus can't help but be overcome with a sense of remorse. His hold gently eases, his fingers transitioning from your chin to delicately trace the pad of his thumb along your cheekbone.

"Are you gonna be a good girl and stay, hm?" His voice was softer now. You swallow hard and you find yourself nodding, silently surrendering to the intricate web of control that Coriolanus deftly wove around you.

Coriolanus tenderly brushes away a stray tear that had dared to escape, his touch as soft as a fleeting whisper. Leaning in, he draws closer to your face, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. The warmth of the kiss lingers for a brief moment, a delicate embrace, before he gently withdraws. "Now, go get ready," he says, his back turned to you as he pours himself another glass as you wordlessly leave.

#coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #young president snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #tbosas imagine #tbosas x reader #coryo snow #president coriolanus snow #fanfiction #tom blyth #possesive!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow #tom blyth imagine #hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #priscilla movie #coriolanus snow smut #president snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader

[ars0nistpixie]

Hunger Games is a love letter. 

Hunger Games is a love letter to Prim. A love letter to the gentle, to the healers, to the kindly headstrong, to the wise. A love letter to the defenceless and precious, to those who have seen too much too soon — a love letter to those we yearn to save and, often, can’t.

Hunger Games is a love letter to Madge. A love letter to those who love quietly, to those whose silent actions say a lot more than words ever could. A love letter to the companions whose acceptance and support warm our hearts and touch our souls, to those who stay with us forever — sometimes, regrettably, only in memory.

Hunger Games is a love letter to Johanna. A love letter to the wounded, to those made harsh by loss. A love letter to those who’d rather be loathed than deemed an inconvenience, to those who don’t know how to let people in anymore — a love letter to those who don’t remember what it is to be loved.

Hunger Games is a love letter to Rue. A love letter to the sweet and generous, to the brutally sacrificed, to the victims of injustice. A love letter to those who could have been saved but weren’t, to those who deserved better, to the innocent — a love letter to the children who will be forever mourned. 

Hunger Games is a love letter to Finnick. A love letter to those whose pain was made to be spectacle, to the dehumanised and abused. A love letter to those who put up a wall and hide their pain, to the brave and broken, to the soulfully beautiful — to those who sometimes fall to pieces and can’t put them back together.

Hunger Games is a love letter to Haymitch. A love letter to those who never stopped hurting, to those who dismantle themselves to cope with what’s left, to those who’d rather forget. A love letter to those whose self-hatred struggles with all the good they desperately want to do, those who’d love to love, those who are afraid to fall asleep — those who are irreparably torn in the aftermath.

Hunger Games is a love letter to Katniss’ father, whose memory is the only survivor, and to Katniss’ mother, who is left to pick up the pieces.

Hunger Games is a love letter to Peeta, the dandelion in the spring. A love letter to rebirth and hope, to the growth of flowers among the ashes, to the promise of a better future. A love letter to love, the selfless, healing love, the one that breathes life back into starved lungs, the one that makes a home, the unconditional embrace that warms wintery hearts — a love letter to a sunset that calls for dawn.

Hunger Games is a love letter to Katniss, to the fire of a revolution that yearns for peace. A love letter to those who, surrounded by violence, choose compassion, a love letter for the inadequate and chosen, a love letter for those who are exhausted and forced to get up. A love letter for those who, after the fight, seek to rebuild, a love letter for those who are broken and selfless, a love letter for those who tried their hardest to save those they loved — a love letter to the survivors.

#the hunger games #thg #hunger games #a ballad of songbirds and snakes #everlark #katniss and peeta #primrose everdeen #madge undersee #haymitch abernathy #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #finnick odair #johanna mason #rue the hunger games

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 43

Part 1 Part 42

Will’s loitering around the school, Dustin, Will, and Lucas plastered to his sides like burrs as he waits for Jonathan to get out of school and pick him up. The hallways are almost empty – everyone else allowed to take buses, and ride bike, and walk home; Will left the odd one out.

Even his friends who are dawdling by his side as they walk the empty parking lot have bikes chained up at the front of the school. They’re only still here because Will’s not allowed to be left alone. By anyone. 

The air is crisp, biting into his cheeks, but it’s too crisp to be the other side. Snow is on the horizon, not ash. He can smell it.

Mike’s talking about El in a hushed voice, moaning about Hopper blocking all access like the protective Father he isn’t. Will wishes his problems felt as small as Mike’s are,, and promptly feels bad about the thought.

It’s just, winter is in the air, and the sky is getting darker earlier each day. In a few more weeks, Will’s not sure he’ll even be able to get home after school without the specter of the Demogorgon hunting him from the shadows between each tree.

He wishes he didn’t live so close to the woods.

He wishes he could live in Steve and Eddie’s pockets like they live in each other’s. He only feels covered when he’s looking at Steve Harrington’s broad back.

Jonathan’s car pulls into the empty parking lot, and Dustin, Lucas, and Mike run off with shouts of goodbye. Only Dustin looks back, waits for Will to shuffle into the passenger seat before waving and peddling quickly to catch up.

Jonathan’s heat is up high enough to hurt. Will sinks into it, puts his frozen hands up to the vents to dethaw. 

“How was school?” Jonathan asks, The Doors playing near silently from his crackly radio.

“It was okay,” Will says, thinking of Zombie Boy shouted out at him like a slur in the hallways. Thinking about how sometimes he’ll walk up to his friend’s and be greeted by abrupt, strained silences, like a few days in the Upside-Down has made him a freaks among the freaks.

Jonathan hums, but doesn’t press. WIll loves him for it. As they drive toward home, the long-familiar fishhook feelings hooks and yanks his stomach. In a moving car, it’s almost a queasy thing, like he always imagined being on a sailboat would feel. He’s being pulled in two directions and his organs are sloshing around with it.

“Can we go see Steve and Eddie?” Will asks quietly.

Jonathan’s hands clench hard, shitty steering wheel vinyl creaking. He sighs, like a dog when you won’t share a piece of your dinner no matter how hard it begs. He takes a u-turn without a word, heading toward Forest Hills, knowing just like Will does that if they’re not already there, that’s where Steve and Eddie will end up soon.

Will knows they’re not there yet before Jonathan parks in the vacant spot where Eddie’s van usually presides. He puts it in park, doesn’t take the key out of the ignition, turns the heater down just a hair.

“I just don’t get it,” Jonathan says, looking at the Munson’s closed front door, not looking Will’s way at all.

“Get what?” Will asks, even though he knows. 

Jonathan sighs that same sigh. “Just–” he runs a hand through his discheveled hair until it partially covers his eyes, “you spend a few days with them and now it’s like they’re all you think about.”

Will looks down at his lap, can’t meet Jonathan’s eyes even when he feels his brother turn to look at him. Left unsaid in the space between them is that Jonathan doesn’t get them, doesn’t get him anymore, when they’re all each other has had for years.

“You weren’t there,” Will says. He knows it’ll hurt even before Jonathan breaths in like he’s been shot.

The heater and radio static break up the silence. Will can still feel it. 

“Can you–” Jonathan srarts. Will sees, out of the corner of his eyes as Jonathan reaches out toward him before dropping it. “Can you try to explain?” Will looks down at his dirty sneakers, thinking. He doesn’t have the words. But hten Jonathan says, “please?” all quiet and desperate and Will turns.

He pulls his feet up onto the seat, arms wrapped around his knees,  turning his body to face Jonathan as Jonathan does the same. Jonathan’s knee bangs on the bottom of the steering wheel, but he gets it all the way up to mirror Will’s posture, both their shoulders hunched, both of their arms around their knees.

“I was really scared,” WIll says, for the first time admitting something that was obvious. “And then they saved me.”

Jonathan nods, meeting his eyes. “And that’s it?”

Will shakes his head, looks down at the stick shift separating them. “No,” he says, fidgeting his fingers anxiously. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Jonathan reaches across the car, covering Will’s knee with his big palm and squeezing. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He doesn’t understand, Will can tell.

“No,” he says, shaking his head, eyes prickling. The fishline is slackening now. He can feel it. They’re on their way. “This isn’t like that.”

“Like?”

“Like, a stupid teenager thing,” Will says. How does he say this isn’t about puberty, or growing up, or a fight with his friends, or even the isolation of the school halls where everyone treats him like he’s oil and everyone else is water. 

“Okay,” Jonathan says in that calm, quiet way that always calms WIll down. “What is it then?”

Will looks back down at the stick shift, Jonathan’s foot now propped up against it after he’d stretched it out. His sneakers are too small – Will can see his pinky toe pushing up against the side. 

“Like, there’s something in me,” Will says. “And it’s in them too.” Jonathan doesn’t say anything, but Will can feel his eyes on him. “I can feel them, right now.” He whispers it out, a secret in this car confessional of two.

“Feel them, how?”

“It’s, itchy? When they’re too far.” WIll says, struggling to find words he’s not sure exist. “And I can tell they’re turning into the trailer park right now.” He touches the hollow just below his ribs, looks up into Jonathan’s eyes. “Right here.”

Jonathan’s brows are furrowed, eyes intense, just as Eddie’s van comes peeling into view, parking haphazardly in front of Eddie’s trailer. Jonathan’s eyes go wide. He hadn’t gotten it until this moment. Will can see it hit him in the dilation of his pupils. “Like El?” he asks, quiet as Eddie tumbles out of the driver’s seat and rushes over to open the passenger side door for Steve like a goofy knight.

“I don’t know.”

Jonathan glances over just in time to watch a wan-faced Steve take Eddie’s hand to hoist himself out of the van. “Do they?”

Part 44

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b

#steddie upsidedown au #my fic #steddie fic

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Rough Winter | Yandere Polar-Bear Hybrid Pirate

There was something oddly eerie about the stillness of a biome meant to remain frozen. It was far too cold to hear the screech of even the most resilient birds; who wouldn’t migrate here if they could. Far too frigid for the reaching branches of any tree, with no soil beds for any determined sprout. 

No. 

No natural force would stay in the Arctic Wastelands. 

No one but Captain Poal.

Captain Poal and the crew he’d chained to his cursed vessel. 

“Land-Ho! We’re home, boys!”

The word felt like salt in the wound. You hadn’t been able to go to your home…your real home in what felt like ages. But what would be left? For a crew from a frigid biome, they had quite the fascination with fire. 

“Aw is the pup getting homesick?” 

Sen had a cruel and broad smile across his face as the ship sped forward to the floating fortress. The boat rocked with the jostling waves. You no longer needed to clutch the sides, easily maintaining your balance. It hurt to know this was no longer foreign to you.

“Senfried! Don’t be so rude. (Y/n)’s never been to this home before. This will be their first real welcome home.”

“Ooops~I forgot~”

Sen didn’t forget. He was just cruel like that. 

Despite his cruelness, he didn’t strike you as a kindred spirit to Poal. You wondered if he would have said the same if he had been there. Feeling the alcoholic buzz of the Summer festival, the sauntering joy of many living beings. Only for it all to dissipate in the suffocating haze of a burning inferno. And if it wasn’t enough that the sound of your home caving in on itself wasn’t enough then the helpless screams of all of those trapped inside would do it for you. 

The enflamed ashes skim your face as your eyes fight the smoke to burn the images of the late escapees into your mind's eye. Burning bodies both sprinting for water and falling out in a desperate call for death; it was a horrifying scene. 

Would he still be laughing then? 

Laughing as he watched the melting hands reach out to you one last time. 

Would he do that?

“(Y/n)? Are you alright?”

You let yourself return to the present, to Flynn placing a large hand on your back. The comforting gesture does the opposite, as you recall the same action being done that same night. You stepped away, ignoring those downcast expressions behind his glasses. Even Sen seemed to hesitate as you turned to woefully look at the rushing, raging waters.

Sen opened his mouth to speak, closing it as the Captain’s presence appeared with a thud. Booming footsteps commanded their attention and should have garnered yours. There wasn’t a need to look up when you already memorized the clinking seal-skinned boots. 

“Oi Oi is there an issue over here?”

Sen scrambled with a quick response. 

“Yes, Cap’n we’re all good here! Just excited to be home is all!”

His tone was light as usual, with no evidence of his previous pestering. Flynn on the other hand didn’t bother to let his hazel gaze point to you, before discretely pushing his spectacles up his nose. 

“Yes, we are all…ecstatic. ”

The Captain’s round and furry ears flicked in annoyance; silently communicating with his trusted first mate. Who nodded with the bow of his head. The Captain nodded upwards–a proper dismissal among friends.

“Well me and Senfield will prepare the rest of the crew. While our treasures may be compartmentalized they have yet to be moved.”

“Wait why do I have to come?”

“Senfield.”

“Don’t Senfield me! You always ack–! Hey”

Flynn dragged the hybrid by the stump of a tail before shifting to simply nudge him forward; effortlessly launching Sen ahead. Sen wasn’t a particularly big guy, given his species but not many could hold the line against a walrus hybrid. Especially not one as big as Flynn was.

Needless to say, your privacy was gifted by their absence.

Leaving you and the Captain alone on the deck of the ship. 

“What’s the problem, Snowball?”

You snarled at the nickname refusing to look up at him. He was probably smiling; casually flaunting the pearly razors so often stained with blood. 

“Don’t call me that!”

His fishy and sweltering breath fanned against your ear. When he had moved closer you’d never know. Speed and strength weren’t the traits he was lacking; that title belonged to his emotions. His sense of empathy and compassion was either nonexistent or skewed so much that it didn’t matter. 

“I’ll call you whatever I want.”

It wasn’t cold anymore. It was hot. Suffocating. 

His unclothed front was pressed into your back, his jacket-covered arms trapping your front. He was so insatiably warm. It felt like a fever had taken hold of you—an unnatural heat incurred by the chilling atmosphere.

“This is all your fault…I hate you Poal.”

The heat shook behind you. Vibrating with his stifled giggle. He clutched onto you tighter; muscles constricting you into his shaking embrace. His pointy nose dug into the top of your head, nuzzling into the woolen hat he gifted you before. 

“No, you don’t.” 

He let a steaming hand into your coat, shoving past the layers of cloth you’d put in place. You didn’t fight him, you couldn’t stop him as he reached for the skin above your heart. 

“You’re just mad that you lost.”

Retreating his hand from your protective layers he let you weakly cover up; before holding you by your cheeks. Turning your head to look up at the increasing size of the pirate’s fortress he squeezed at the resistance of your frown.

“Look at it. It’ll be one of your homes.”

“It will never be.”

“Don’t be coy. You’ll have a favorite eventually.”

“And you think it will be here?”

He turned you to him, pressing you into the side of the boat, clutching your face with a new ferocity. His head was already leveled above you coming closer to cast a shadow on his pale face framed by his unruly white locks as he looked down at you. In a fierce aquamarine glare, he doesn’t smile, looking as desperate as he is frustrated.

“I think it will be me.”

It wouldn’t help to struggle against his grip risking the pricking of his claws. So you simply returned his gaze knowing full well that backing down now would be your downfall. He backed his head away letting the light of the sun illuminate his face as he spread his mouth into a dastardly grin.

“You’re such a hurricane!”

He smashed his lips against yours. Quickly sucking on your pouting lips just barely nibbling before pulling away. He released you,  giggling to himself once more as he watched you recover. You rubbed your hand over your lip checking for any punctures glaring at him nonetheless. That seemed to make him smile wider, dashing away to knock on the door to the ship’s hold. 

“Buckle up Baby! We’re headed home to the fortress!”

Muffled shouts and hollers sounded from below. This would be your roughest Winter yet.

#yandere christmas #yandere hybrid #yandere polar bear #yandere polar bear hybrid #yandere pirate hybrid #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere pirate crew #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere ocs x reader #yandere ocs #yandere pirate oc #yandere pirate

[fastcardotmp3]

rest stop

for @steddiemicrofic November 2023 prompt: REST | words: 387 | rated: T | implied kas!eddie; on the run

The green hue of fluorescents. The weight of grimy coins. Another rest stop in another state.

Eddie needs the cash for gas if they're gonna get to the safe house offered by a well-hidden envelope, burned to ash with a Bic lighter just minutes ago and just seconds after he managed to memorize the address.

He needs to prioritize, because he doesn't have much time and even if he calls— Well, they're listening, aren't they? It's why it's a rule, the not calling, why it's been so many weeks since he got to hear a friendly voice.

The clank of coins down the slot is loud in his ears, but not nearly as loud as the choked down sob in his own throat when the line picks up and he hears—

“Hello?”

He doesn't have time to cry. He has sixty seconds max and even that is pushing it.

“Hey.”

“Shit. Shit, no, what the hell do you think you're doing?” Steve is immediately in crisis mode at the mere, tired croak of Eddie's voice. “Is this an emergency? We said only in case of—”

“The emergency is that I miss you,” Eddie snaps, as though the real emergency isn't that he's selfish.

He watches the second hand on his watch. 26. 27.

“You're…” A deep breath, one which Eddie has spent years listening to from a guest bedroom and then a shared apartment and now this.

It was only a matter of time before the Feds pounced on the anomalies left behind by the Upside Down, the not-quite-human among them.

Eddie laughs, sometimes, that they waited until he was happy first.

32.

“You're safe?” Steve breathes, barely a whisper.

“We're safe,” Eddie lets his gaze linger on the girl washing down the windshield of their car with the stolen plates. She has a fresh tattoo wrapped up tight on her wrist. “Going to the new spot.”

“I'll tell Nance you got her note,” Steve's swallow sounds thick. 45. “I— We're gonna figure this out.”

It's a promise he's made before. Eddie is still trying to figure out how to tell him he'll forgive him when he doesn't.

53.

“Be home soon,” he says in the interim.

57, the second hand ticks.

Steve is still breathing on the other end of the line when Eddie hangs up.

#dot fic #steddie #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicrofic november #steve harrington #eddie munson #the drabble urge came back and microfic was there to help mwah

[madwomansapologist]

Shan Yu obsessed with you would include

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Personal blog | More Shan Yu | AO3

synopsis: For Shan Yu, it was love at first sight. For you, he was the man that kidnapped you. Oh, young love.

warnings: female!reader. badass!reader. kidnapping. nudity. in this house we hate the misogynist version of Shan Yu in Mulan (2020).

• Villages on the border are not usually targeted by the Hun army, as they are mostly built and maintained by the effort of the population itself. They are part of China, but it would take weeks for the Emperor to be updated on the situation of these villages. There's no need to attack them, and it's not useful either. After all, everyone needs to rest. It is an agreement between the army and the city leaders: peace is maintained if they are well received and well fed.

• It was suppossed to be a quick stay. After a long battle, the army needed to eat and rest. And so needed the horses. Soon after, they would continue their journey. After enjoying the feast offered by an inn, Shan Yu decided to ride alone along one of the mountain trails. This battle showed that the Chinese army is well organized, despite being smaller. As tempting as counting victory is, deluding yourself can be a fatal mistake. Shan Yu needed to think, and he needed silence.

• Hours after leaving the inn, a noise caught his attention. A sneeze. And the sound of running water. Shan Yu searched for the source of the sound, comanded by his own curiosity. It was almost like his body was warning him: This is important. He jumped off the horse and followed his ears, finding a lagoon hidden by ash trees. It's water was dark because of the stone banks, filled with a few carps and low vegetation. Then you emerged.

• Shan Yu almost fall into the lagoon. He never thought he had weak legs, but they were shaking. He couldn't feel knees, but he did feel his heart. It was aching. Like something sharp hold onto it. It was such a hurting feeling, but he never want to not feel it. Because he knows exactly what this mean. Shan Yu just fell in love.

• He saw you whole. Reflecting the moon, water falling down your body, he saw every inch of your skin. Your curves, your beauty, your smile. Your scars, your freckles, your marks. Shan Yu saw your body, but also saw your soul. The way you moved into the water, having fun, even tho you were shivering. It was so, so cold. But you didn't mind. You wanted to swin, so you did it.

• You were brave. Certain about your desires. Resistent. And your laugh... That sound was deserving of a thousand praises. People should give their lifes for the chance of hearing you. Of seeing you. Of being near you. And it would be a pleasure. A small price for such a great gift.

• Then you sneezed. And again. And again.

• Shan Tu quickly notice your clothes stretched on a rock. It appeared to be made from a nice tissue, but he couldn't let you wear something like that. So he came out from among the trees.

• You got scared. Who wouldn't? Even if you didn't knew who he was, you probably heard about him, a man appearing out of nowhere is really frightful. You dived up to your chin, on a attempt of covering your body, and walked away from him. Even scared you were the most beautiful thing he ever saw.

• Shan Yu was glad the inn offered him a bath before the feast. His mustachioed was trimmed, his hair combed, his skin cleaned. You couldn't look away, did you notice his yellow eyes? Did you like it? Shan Yu hopes you does.

• Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he took his wolf fur coat and left it among your clothes.

"Do not approach!" You yelled at him, thinking he was undressing to join you. "I'm warning you: I can fight."

Shan Yu chuckled. If he wasn't sure before, now he knows that you were made to be his. You were deciding between running or fighting, but he turned away. "What the hell," you said to yourself.

Walking back to his horse, Shan Yu did his speciality: he planned.

• The stay was extended. Shan Yu ordered his best warriors to watch you. To discover who you were, where you live, what you do. To make sure you would always be safe. Within days, he already knew your routine, your family, your name. And as time went by, Shan Yu decided to act.

It was a quiet night. Snow started to fall, no more travelers for some good months. After spending the day helping your mother keep the house clean and teaching one of your younger friends how to cook a congee, all you wanted was to sleep. And so you did.

But you woke up with breaking glass noise. You jumped out of bed immediately. And when you noticed the silence, you thought you just had a realist nightmare. You lay backdown, snuggling under the sheets, and closed your eyes to sleep again... and someone pulled you by the feet.

You couldn't see who was hurting you, all candles were out, but you felt it's tight grip around your ankles. You felt on the floor, your neck started to burn, the person pulling while you screamed. You bet he didn't think you would react, 'cuz on the moment you had a chance you kicked the man so hard he fell back. Then you kicked his head, putting him to sleep.

You runned to your parents room to get them out of here, but it wasn't a solo job. Three big man guarded the corridor. Moonlit, you noticed that nothing was damaged. That wasn't just a robbery.

"Touch me," you smiled at then, sure they would see it. After tucking a lock behind your ear, you positioned yourself to fight. "And I will beat the shit out of you."

All you remember after was the sound of bones breaking, blood gushing from noses, screams of pain. They tried to get you, but you always knew how to protect yourself. "I've warned you."

You managed to open your parents' bedroom door, and found them gagged on the bed. As brave as you were, you knew you couldn't release them and defend you three. "I'll be back," you promised. Hearing the sound of people entering your house, you opened the bedroom window. "And with help."

And then you jumped.

Barefoot in the snow, you had only one goal: to reach the bell on the wall between the houses. It is only used in emergencies, its ring is almost an announcement of calamities. No one would ignore it.

You just didn't count that more than five men guarded the perimeter of your house. Now it was clear that the Hun army was attacking you, although you didn't understand why. There was only one thing left to do: run.

You managed to contain them, after all that was the land of your house. You knew where every hole, stone, obstacle was.

Climbing the ladder that connects the walls, there was so little left for you to reach the wire and show everyone what was happening. But your foot was pulled, and you landed hard on the floor.

Breathing was difficult. It burned. It was like someone muzzled your chest and asked you to take a deep breath. It hurt so much that you couldn't protect yourself as they lifted you off the ground, pushing you towards something.

When you started to get used to the pain, you tried to run. But someone grabbed your shoulder and kept you still. After a few seconds, you heard steps. The gate of your house was opened, and your blurry vision couldn't focus on the man marchingon your direction. Less than a minute felt like a decade.

"Who hurted her?" A deep, eery voice asked.

As he come closer, you reconized him. The man that handed you his coat on the most creepy way possible. Now, looking closer and without water on your eyelashes, you understood who he really was. And that scared the shit out of you.

A eagle landed on his broad arm. He was armed, but even if he wasn't it would still give you the creeps. He looked like a predator. A big cat ready to attack. He lived up to his fame. That makes you a prey? Shan Yu was looking at you, and you didn't know if he was the last thing you will ever see.

Whoever was holding you decided to let you go. Shan Yu got closer, but you didn't step back. You wanted to, but didn't. If he want something from you, than he better undestand that you will never submit.

"I'm not hurt." It was a lie, but it wasn't just thay. It was you challenging him. "What do you want from me?"

Shan Yu smiled. He wasn't that close to you, but he made you feel so small. It's impossible to look at Shan Yu without feeling weak. "Are you always that brave?"

"That's me being reasonable" you answered. "In order to be brave I would need to be scared. What do you want from me?"

"Your heart." He took a step back. "Care to join me?'

You did, but you also didn't have an option.

Shan Yu led you to his legion. Surrounded by silence, you saw when the four man stepped out of your house. You didn't know what to do or what to expect, but there was something more important then your future. "Did you kill my parents?"

"No." Shan Yu was succinct. "I ordered them to bring you to me, not to hurt you. They will be punished. I promise you."

"I'm not hurt", it was all you were able to say.

Shan Yu sighed. "You can fight, but you can't lie."

After walking for a few minutes, you saw the Hun army. And they were ready to travel again. Thousands of them ready to invade China.

Your parents are safe. If you run, you can go back to your village and warn them about what happened. You could've try, but you didn't.

What they would do? Fight a whole army because one family was attacked? You wouldn't start a war that you know you can't win. You can fight, but not like the Huns. They just didn't expect you to fight back, but they are bigger and stronger than you could ever be.

"You need to rest", Shan Yu woke you up from your thoughts. You noticed that those other men following you weren't there anymore. Your bravery faded away little by little. "Come here."

You could see now where he is walking you. Compared to the others, it was the biggest carriage. The prettiest. It was long, driven by ten horses, made for sleeping. Shan Yu was leading you to his carriage, and that made you want to vomit.

Shan Yu opened the door, and gestured for you to come in. You stepped back. "I won't be your whore."

He frozed. If you have paid attention, you would've noticed the pain in his eyes. But you didn't. "You won't. I would never do this."

"Don't lie to me!"

"I've told you the truth." Shan Yu licked his lips. He never felt so scared. He would... he would never do that. "I will only touch you if you want me to."

"You kidnapped me!" You shout at him. "You hurted me. You hurted my family. Why would I ever believe on what you said?"

Shan Yu moved foward to you. He bent over, looking at you from your height. "I will give you China as a dowry."

You stumbled back. "What did you said?"

"You will be my Empress." Shan Yu smiled at your response. "My heart is yours. I will wait, don't matter how long it takes, for your reciprocal. So please, rest."

You didn't knew how to react. His face, so close to yours, made you swallow hard. It makes no sense. Why would he do that? You ain't a noble or rich or anything like that. That must be a lie. But why would he bother lying?

You walked past him, completely unsure of what to do. You ignored his eyes, scared to see that he speaks the true. Now your surprise was greater than your fear. This can only be a very weird dream. You pinched yourself, but nothing happened.

Inside the carriage, you realized that everything was actually... beautiful. You'd think an army would have no room for beauty, but Shan Yu's gigantic room proved otherwise. Intricately finished wooden tables with maps and plans, sheets of warm, hard-to-sew fabrics, gold religious items. Everything was beautiful. And probably more expensive than your house and everything in it.

Shan Yu closed the door. It wasn't a quiet night anymore.

• You woke up to footsteps in the carriage. You don't remember falling asleep, but at some point you did. It was cold, you were tired, and it was such a comfortable bed. When you got up, you saw people arranging chests in the center of the room. A lady placed a tray on the table, the food on it looked delicious. They were all just smiles for you, a warm feeling almost didn't take over your body.

• Those trunks had your new clothes. Appropriate clothing for cold weather and long trips. It wasn't a dream. No, it really wasn't. Shan Yu is... in love with you? What a weird kind of love. He really chose to kidnap you rather to talk with you? If feels like a story from a fantasy book, not something actually happening on your life.

• But Shan Yu is honorable. Somehow. You saw him fighting: Shan Yu seens to be joking with others life. Sometimes he allows his enemies to have some kind of advantage, just so he can win in a more humiliating way. But he never touched you. Or disrespcted you. Or let anyone treat you badly. And he also care for his army, for his people. So, yeah, honorable. Somehow.

• Shan Yu slept in the same carriage, after all it was his carriage, but not in the same bed. It was strange, but he said he wouldn't leave you alone at such a vulnerable time. You laugh about it, saying that he wouldn't be able to protect you or anything like that if he was sleeping. That very same night, when you both slept together for the first time, you woke up because of the horses. Within a second, Shan Yu was awake, asking if something had happened. Light sleeper: you will be safe.

• You participated in discussions about strategy. And always sitting next to him. One of his trusted men explained the vocabulary you didn't know. Shan Yu insisted for you to be there. Whether it's battle strategy, discussions about money, meetings with the different troops, mapping the path: Shan Yu wanted you there, paying attention and learning.

Riding down the montain on the sorrel he let you choose, Shan Yu was particularly relaxed. "Who taught you how to fight?"

You were also feeling just fine. The weather was mild, the sun warmed you, and riding had finally become second nature. The night before they held a feast in celebration of the end, and victory, of a battle.

"I was an angressive child, and my grandpa always taught me everything he knew." You smiled, but it was a little bit sad. You miss him a lot. "But I don't really know how to fight. I just hit where it hurts, and then I run as fast as I can."

Shan Yu guffaw. "That strategy is... not enterily wrong." His words were positive, but Shan Yu didn't notice he shook his head. You did. "I can teach you."

"Do you have time for that?" Soon your honest question turned into a joke. "Because I can beat you ass anytime."

As time went on, you kind of forgot that you were angry with him. Shan Yu was surprisingly a good listener. And even his coldness could be funny. And he was honest. Never hurted you or forced you to do anything. You don't love him, but you understood your life beside him would be interesting.

You've learned about war, economics, you can tell what each officer in the army does, and you've learned a thing or two about Huns history. Much more interesting than cooking, cleaning and going out to do something that, deep down, was just a way to make yourself more attractive to a good husband. This was no longer a concern. You could be stubborn, annoying, angry, petty: but you don't have to behave to attract a man's gaze. You could just exist, and it was enough for him. It is... liberating. You miss your family and friends, you miss them so much it hurts, but it's not all bad.

"I will take that as a yes."

• The storm changed everything. It was impossible to set a camp down. Shan Yu was leading his army, as he always will, but not even a man strong as him can defeat nature. In a few days with the cold water giving him no time to rest or eat, everyone around Shan Yu could see that he was sick. But he didn't admit it. Saying that he was just fine, he continued to lead the troops.

• His determined nature didn't allow him to rest, but his body couldn't take anymore: he fell of the horse. Shan Yu was treated with the finest medicines, but he didn't woke up. Didn't even move a finger. You stood beside him the whole day, and when the moonlit touched your skin... You were shaking.

• How could he done that to you? Everytime you went out he made you go back to the carriage so you wouldn't get sick. How could he not care about himself the same way? How could he get so hurt without allowing anyone to help him? Shan Yu is a liar. He told you he would never hurt you, but look what he did to you! You can't breath, you can't think, you can't even look at him without feeling that your chest is about to explode. How dare him lie to you?

• Crying, you lay down next to him. You tucked your head onto the chest that moved slowly with shallow breathing, and hugged his broad waist. Your fingers drew disjointed shapes on the boiling skin, your lips murmured prayers to all the gods and ancestors who could hear you. You just wanted a sign that everything was going to be okay. And muttering prayers as you caressed his skin, you fell asleep.

• You woke up to a caress at the small of your back. Your mind took a while to understand what was happening, but as soon as you opened your eyes and saw him, everything ceased to matter. Shan Yu was awake. And he smiling.

"When did you woke up?" You tried to sit down, but his arm around your waist didn't let you. "You need to eat. I gonna call the maesters. How are you feeling? Why didn't you woke me up?!"

"Calm down", his weak voice almost broke your heart, but his tone showed you that Shan Yu was back. "Stay this way. Just a little longer."

"Do you know how scared I was?" You feel like you were about to cry, so you didn't look into his eyes. "Let me go. Let me help you."

"You've never touched me." Shan Yu caressed your cheek, tucking a strand behind your ear. It was so intimate, it made your stomach ache. But it wasn't a bad thing. "You're warm. And soft. And you smell like tears."

"I thought you..." You couldn't say the words. "You didn't react to anything. I thought you were about to die."

"I would have come back to you." His fingers slid to your chin. A delicate touch, too delicate for someone so rough, made you look into his eyes. "I would crawl out of my grave. Not even death can put us apart."

"I missed you." You admited. "I missed you so much. How terrible it is to love something death can touch."

"You love me?" Shan Yu didn't gave you time to answer. "Love me." It wasn't a demand. Shan Yu wasn't ordering. He was begging. "Please."

"I have your heart." You got closer to him. "And you have mine. Don't break it."

"I wouldn't dare."

Next part!

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

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#madwomansapologist #prisoner/bride au #disney villain x reader #disney x reader #disney villain #disney x you #disney villain x you #disney villain x y/n #shan yu x reader #shan yu #shan yu x you #disney x y/n #shan yu x y/n #shan yu mulan #mulan 1998

[incorrectbatfam]

Who would get snapped by Thanos?

(also on Ao3)

Of all places, he was buying fucking cigarettes when it happened.

Jason was digging through his wallet when the woman behind him suddenly screamed. He whirled around and—

Hang on, didn't she have a kid with her? He could've sworn there was a toddler whining about candy just now. But when he looked, his eyes were met with a pile of dust and the lady staring at her hand, face pale.

Behind her were a group of teenagers. The shortest one—couldn't have been more than 14—turned to the others and said, "Guys, something's wrong." But before anyone could react, his skin cracked and he crumbled to pieces, leaving his friends scrambling.

The cashier dialed the police. Someone demanded to know what was going on. Without his helmet or guns, it wasn't as though Jason could say he got this all taken care of. Cigarettes forgotten, he slipped away from the crowd and called Bruce.

No answer. So he tried again, and on the third time he left an expletive-filled voicemail before hopping on his bike.

He zipped past the changing signals and swerved around the three-car pileup forming as he tried Dick's number. But all he got was that godawful singsong voicemail that Dick recorded years back.

That was two down already.

No.

No, he wasn't gonna think like that. Those two knuckleheads were fine. Hell, with a family of detectives, they were probably cracking the case as Jason broke a red light.

He picked another number.

It clicked.

"Roy, are you—"

"Jason." Roy's ragged breathing almost made his words unintelligible. "It's Lian. She—she..."

"It's happening everywhere," Jason said. "I don't know who's behind this but I'm gonna keep you updated."

There was nothing on the other line. Not a breath or panicking keen. His heart dropped.

"Roy?"

After several attempts, he had no choice but to hang up.

He didn't even wait for his motorcycle to stop completely, dumping it next to the others.

"Guys?"

The Cave was far, far too quiet. Jason grabbed his domino and a batarang lying on a bench.

"Hello? Anyone?"

He stuck a comm in his ear. It crackled to life.

"Guys, we have a situation. Is anyone reading me right now?"

Silence.

He spotted a familiar wheelchair in front of the glowing Batcomputer and let out a sigh of relief.

"Oracle! I'm glad you're—"

But there was no red hair or keyboard clacks to go with it. A steaming coffee cup was tipped over, soaking a case file and dripping onto the floor.

Alfred had to be okay. He's Alfred.

Jason raced upstairs, almost missing the three piles on the couch with purple, yellow, and orange video game controllers buried among them. In the cat bed is another one. His lunch crawled up his throat, but he swallowed it down and moved to the next room.

"Alfred?" His boots echoed through the halls with each step. "Anyone here?"

He checked the kitchen, but it wasn't Alfred he found. Rather it was Damian, staring at his ash-covered fingertips just like the lady at the store.

"They were right here." Damian's voice trembled. "Me and Cain and Pennyworth, we were talking and... and..."

He stumbled forward. Jason caught him.

"I got you. I got you." He wrapped his arms around the kid.

"Akhi?"

Something about it made Jason's blood run cold.

"I don't feel so good."

"Don't say that. You're fine." He squeezed tighter.

"I—I don't want to go. Not again." Damian's fists—oh God, they're so tiny—clung to Jason's shirt.

But all the pleading in the world amounted to nothing as the atoms of his baby brother slipped through his fingers. And even though it felt like everything was bubbling to the surface, he couldn't scream or cry out. All he could do was kneel there, numb, wondering who would have the audacity.

After who-knows-how-long, he felt Ace nuzzle against his ribs.

"You're still here."

"Arf!"

"You're right." Jason swiped the tears from his face and stood up. "Fetch me my guns. There will be hell to pay."

#jason todd #red hood #damian wayne #robin #roy harper #arsenal #red hood and the outlaws #batfam #batfamily #batbros #batboys #batkids #batsiblings #batman family #dc comics #dc fanfic #marvel #crossover #alternate universe #fanfic #my writing #thanos #mcu #infinity war #tw angst #tw death #tw swearing #ficlet

[mmgwritings]

I'M GONNA TAKE MINE OF YOU WITH ME

Character: Kaz Brekker / Wife! Reader

Prompts: There is a word for children who lose their parents, but there is none for parents who lose a child.

Warnings: Canon divergence; Angst; Character death; Grief; Kaz suffering; i'm sorry :(

Never trust the Saints; they give and take away.

Initially, a curfew was imposed. Without prior warning, patrol officers closed all clubs, brothels and merchant mansions, causing a commotion among the population that was soon violently suppressed. Later, when the disease spread from the interior of Kesh to the suburbs of Ketterdam, the healers' homes became crowded, and before long even the healers needed the assistance of the Grisha in the merchants' hospital.

Thus, Ketterdam remembered how to act. They had faced an epidemic before and would face this one with the same practicality. The funeral bells echoed incessantly throughout the day, while the bay south of the city was used to transport the bodies, piled on fishing vessels confiscated by the Council of the Tides. The former party town, Ketterdam, has transformed into a highly efficient funeral operation.

Burials were strictly prohibited. Thus, when the boats failed to remove bodies from the city quickly enough, in less favored neighborhoods, residents were forced to dispose of their loved ones on improvised pyres in the middle of the street.

This was the first scene we saw upon arriving in Ketterdam through the northwest gate, when the carriage had to make an abrupt stop in front of a pile of twisted ashes, which at first glance appeared to be the remains of slaughtered animals. However, horror soon hit us when the coachman, in a state of shock, vomited and exclaimed: “They are people, Saints, they are people!”

From the windows of the houses along the street, I could briefly see thin faces peering through the cracks in the windows. They were, without a doubt, the relatives of those poor burned creatures. Their looks were blank, as if they had already resigned themselves to the idea that the remains of their loved ones would end up on the street. I hastily closed the windows to hide the cruelty, but it remained etched in my eyes even when I closed them.

The trip was quick and extremely stressful, from Lij to the capital it was just two days of march that lasted the longest a lifetime. The exhausted horses showed visible signs of fatigue when the coachman left us at the hospital doors. However, as quick as it was, it apparently wasn't enough. The little girl was remarkably pale, her lips were dyed purple and her eyes were trembling under the weight of nightmares caused by the fever. My dear girl, a gift bestowed by the saints, the reward for any act of benevolence I have done in this world.

My mother used to say that the saints' mercy was unfair to mortals, because, as divine beings, they no longer understood the pain of any sacrifice, they no longer understood what it was like to lose someone. They were above everything and everyone. But I was a stupid young woman, I ignored my poor mother's advice because I thought it was the condescending words of a woman with pagan customs.

“Mommy,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with exhaustion, her eyes barely opening.

"I'm here my love. It’s going to be okay,” I whispered as I took her small, feverish body into my arms. At the beginning of the year, I could barely hold her on my lap for long, she was growing fast and turning into a beautiful, healthy five year old. Now, feeling how light her body was in my arms, my heart squeezed with pain.

Despite it being the early hours of the morning, a small crowd was sitting on the steps. They were probably sick people, but not sick enough to get a bed inside the hospital. I was trying to carefully pass between them, when, at the door, Nina appeared.

She was dressed in the black clothes of the doctors, with the distinctive blue apron of the merchants' wing, stained with small drops of blood.

“Y/N, come this way, sweetheart. I’ve already prepared everything for her,” said Nina, her kind face and caring voice leading me down a corridor to the east of the main hall. She was different since the last time I saw her, during the holidays. She looked sterner than ever.

“Any news from him? Did Kaz send any letters? Do you think he will arrive today?” I asked as I followed Nina through a corridor packed with doctors, heartrenders, healers and all sorts of people. I must admit that, little by little, the composure I had managed to maintain during the last two days of the journey from Lij to Ketterdam was starting to crumble. Felt like I was on the edge of an abyss, spiraling into darkness.

Nina looked at me with sadness as she led me into a small, but well-lit room with a comfortable bed, where I rested my daughter. She was in a restless sleep and quietly muttering nonsense words, the fever must be getting worse.

“Kaz didn't send any letters, none of them. Y/N, they must be on the way,” Nina reassured me. “Now, I need you to stay calm for her, please. We will examine her immediately, but you also need to undergo tests. You could be as sick as she is.”

“No, you don’t need to. I'm not going to leave her alone here” I said, freeing myself from Nina's hands the moment when a tall, tired-looking man entered the room, he seemed to be middle-aged, even though he was visibly a Grisha.

Nina walked over to him and they started talking in whispers, probably discussing the situation. It was not uncommon for merchants and their families to seek privileges in cases of calamity, but being Kaz Brekker's family, these privileges often extended to any kind of perk. Obviously, by now, the entire hospital knows that the wife and daughter of Ketterdam's biggest criminal are looking for help.

I sat next to my daughter, holding her soft hand and massaging her temple with my fingertips. Just like she is my joy, she is Kaz’s world. The gravity, the humanity, the warmth that keeps him alive. She looks much more like him: her light eyes, her dark hair and even her pert nose. At times, they seemed to share the same thoughts, to the point where I felt like I was somehow invading their space. She was his world.

Kaz would be able to destroy cities to protect her from her enemies, but that would not be enough to protect her from death.

Death came. It invaded my life so abruptly that I didn't even have time to cry for mercy. One moment, my daughter was in a restless sleep, and the next, she was convulsing, with blood pouring from her eyes and nose... The harrowing sounds were the most terrifying, they seemed to echo endlessly in my mind; it was the sound of her choking as she tried to breathe through vomit.

When it was all over, as my daughter lay on the bed with her head at an awkward angle, a horrible sound filled the room, resembling a wounded animal. I couldn't take my eyes off her to find the source of that sound. Only then did I realize that I was the one issuing it.

Once, when I was a child and still enjoying my hunting adventures with my brothers, we witnessed a fox with its cub in a trap set by my father. The cub was trapped, one of its paws shattered between the iron teeth of the trap, it was still too small to understand human antics, and its mother, whether out of compassion or instinct, killed it before we could get closer.

In those minutes when I was afflicted with acute pain, I reflected on that fox mother facing the suffering of her cub. I thought about how I didn't have the same courage as her, about how I would rather rip my own legs off with my teeth and offer myself to the hunters in exchange for freeing my cub from his torment.

Later, when Nina released me from her embrace with a pale, tearful face, speaking words I could barely understand, I considered how naive both I and the hypothetical fox were being in placing our faith in the benevolence of a superior, divine being. Tearing out my legs, my heart, begging, crawling – would that make any difference? Probably not. Yet even so, I would be willing to sacrifice myself for centuries on end in exchange for my daughter's life.

When I got up from the ground, with shaky legs and still immersed in a painful lethargy, I walked over to my daughter. The heartrender had cleaned her face, but there were still bloodstains on the collar of her blue dress, the same one she had received as a birthday present from her father and which she loved because it made her feel like a fairy.

When I held her little face between my hands she was still warm, it seemed like at any moment she would wake up and smile and tell me it was just a trick. But it wasn't, I spent a long time holding her face waiting for this trick to end and it didn't happen.

When I placed a kiss on her forehead, my tears fell on her face. It was an eternal kiss, I didn't want it to end, I didn't want it to be the last. However, when I pulled away, Nina wrapped me in a comforting hug. Finally, she retreated to a corner of the room, leaving me alone to watch over my pain.

I held my daughter in my arms, I ran my fingers through her hair, her face, memorizing every little detail of her. Finally, when she was starting to feel cold and heavy, I moved closer to give her another kiss, and this time, it was Kaz's goodbye kiss.

It was outside the hospital that Kaz found me. Nina took me outside when a team of healers told us they needed the room. In Ketterdam, the city of death, they are very practical about sorting things out. I was sitting on one of the steps, trying to catch my breath and looking at nothing, when Kaz, Inej, Wylan and Jesper arrived in a grain truck.

I didn't understand what emptiness was, nor how distressing it could be. I had no idea that it could be deafening, that the blood would rush through my veins and that everything around me would feel cold to the touch. Emptiness was the absence of all emotions, and at the same time, it contained them all. And the pain of emptiness made it extraordinarily difficult to notice anything around me other than the image of Kaz.

He was disheveled, his black coat was dirty with dust, and his hair was messy, as if he had spent the last few hours pulling out the strands. His usually restrained blue eyes were showing all of his emotions. A shadow hovered over them, something I had never seen before: fear. And I didn't know how to act other than getting up, walking a few steps, and finally succumbing at Kaz's feet in the hope that the ground would swallow me.

My breathing is heavy and shallow, sobs tear from my throat. There were no more tears, it seems that I was no longer able to produce them, however, a rain began to fall on us, as if it could cry what I was unable to. Above me, Kaz was standing still. He was like a wall that refused to fall under a storm, under the weight of reality. He refuses to vocalize whatever he's thinking, I think he's also feeling empty. It's as if any trace of humanity has been drained from him.

Would he become Dirtyhands, being all practical while he waits for the poor creature I've become at his feet to pull herself together? Or would he become the fox cub caught in the trap, hoping I could rip his throat out when he, for the first time in his life, didn't have a plan to get around the situation?

“Y/N, darling,” whispered Inej, as if calling my name could tie me to the ropes of the earth again. Besides, what else could she say?

Is this the moment when I would hear the lamentations, the pity, that would follow me for the rest of my life when they found out about the daughter I lost?

“She's gone,” I said, lifting my head and looking at Kaz. “We were waiting for you... but she got worse, so I came to Ketterdam. I really thought she would get better, but she's gone, Kaz” my voice broke completely.

I think whatever strength had kept Kaz up until that moment was gone. He turned his back on us, walking toward the side of the building, his steps swaying as if he were drunk, until finally he collapsed. A scream tore through his chest, a scream of rage, of frustration and sadness. But above all pain.

There is a definition for children who lose their parents, but there is none for parents who lose their children.

What are we now? A mother without a child? What would I do now? Just go home and put all her things together in a box like party decorations?

I got up and walked over to Kaz, hugging him from behind. We lay huddled in the rain, me holding Kaz's body as he thrashed about in a horrible cry. I offered whatever comfort I had: I kissed his head, whispered empty words, held him close to me. If I wasn't a mom, then Kaz wasn't a dad.

He would never hold her in his arms again, he wouldn't smile when she played with his gloves, which were too big, and he wouldn't stand by her bed on sleepless nights, watching her sleep.

“Kaz, she loves you more than anything” I said. Loved, whispered my treacherous brain. Then, fighting the lump in my throat, I said, “They've already put her with the dead people.”

Kaz shuddered, the crying became silent. The vision no parent, least of all Kaz, wants to imagine. Like any other death in Ketterdem, whether of the poor or the rich, our daughter's would be treated with little ceremony. No mourning, no funeral.

She, who was always warm, was now alone in the cold of the Harbor.

On the days when Kaz couldn't bear any touch, she was the one who defied him by clasping her little hands around his neck. Or on the worst days, when he came from the Barrel with someone's blood on his sleeve, she covered him with kisses and smiles. Kaz loved her the moment he saw her, covered in blood, wet, crying... and warm. When she was a baby he treated her like porcelain, if he could he wouldn't even let me touch her.

My hands met Kaz's, he was clutching his chest as if he wanted to rip out his own heart. I held him, afraid that he would somehow disappear under the weight of his own grief. If he leaves too...

“On the trip, when she was awake, I told her that you love her. That you love her so, so much,” I whispered in his ear. Then, the worst. “I gave her your kiss goodbye”

How can we survive this?

“No, Y/N,” Kaz said in a pleading tone, “I’m sorry, please. I'm so sorry"

When we lack words, guilt appears. It's our fault? Were we really that horrible?

The Saints. They give and they take.

#mmgwbrekker #six of crows #grishaverse #kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #shadow and bone

[auspicioustidings]

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 2

Love in the Guise of Friendship

Summary: 6 months pass and you learn to deal with your grief with help from an unexpected source. Words: 3.2k TWs: allusions to suicidal thoughts

Parts: 1 2 3

13 days after the world ended

“Please take him.”

You were a terrible mother. You couldn’t even hold your own son. You hoped as Joseph cried and Kyle took him and tried to soothe him that someone would come and take the baby away from you. You didn’t deserve to have something so precious when every time you held him you wanted to throw up. A few times you had, putting him down quickly and diving for the toilet. Head leant on the toilet seat, sweaty hair sticking to it and looking at the little thing on the hard tiled floor whose eyes belonged to a spectre, you sometimes wished you would do the right thing and just die already so someone better could take him. 

Kyle had stayed in your flat since the world ended. Johnny’s mother had wanted to and it was a small mercy that she hadn’t pushed. The idea of her being there made you want to lay down and let the earth swallow you up. You hadn’t seen Price although the groceries that arrived every few days had his name next to the order. Nothing at all from Ghost. You wondered if he found you disgusting. Sometimes it felt like he could see right to the heart of you. Sometimes it felt like he had seen the ugliness when your baby had died, and then he had seen it when your husband had died, and now he knew that you were wretched and unfit for love. You half expected him to show up in the night to take Joseph away.

“Come on little man, can’t be giving your mum such a hard time. If this is what you’re like now you’ll drive her right mental when you start teething.”

Fuck. The sob that came out of you was a broken and pathetic thing. It was just that Johnny had said something similar when you had first taken Joseph home. As it did at least five times a day, the grief smothered you so entirely that Kyle had to steer you into the nest of blankets and pillows you had built yourself on the couch. He was staying in the bedroom with Joseph right now. You couldn’t go in there yet. You didn’t know when you would be able to. 

“It’s ok, we’ll try again tomorrow yeah?”

You managed a limp nod as you burrowed into the bedding that had stopped smelling like cosiness among a winter pine forest a week ago. You would try again tomorrow.

–

23 days after the world ended

“She can’t be on her own.”

Simon had hoped that you’d be at least a little better by now. You’d never be ok, he more than anyone understood that, but you would learn to live again. You hadn’t seen him since that horrible night. The 141 never officially attended the family funeral, they had taken a portion of the ashes and held their own memorial for their fallen brother. But Ghost had seen you, had been there in the shadows keeping watch.

He had near threatened to quit if Gaz wasn’t given leave to stay with you. He had asked him to, although he suspected he might have done it anyway. You needed someone and after seeing how you had paled speaking with Johnny’s family he had made arrangements. Mrs MacTavish hadn’t been happy to stay away, but he was blunt when he told her that despite her best intentions, being around Johnny’s family would break you right now. He was steadfast in his belief that there was still enough of you left to break.

“Garrick…”

“Don’t Garrick me Lieutenant. You… you’re better at this kind of thing than I am. Stop being a prat and get over here, she needs you right now.”

“We don’t even like each other.”

“You don’t have to. You understand each other, that’s enough.”

He knew that Gaz was right. If anyone understood this sort of all encompassing grief, it was going to be him. He had already pulled you back from it once before. But it was different this time. This time his own grief was choking him and if he added it to yours he was scared it would kill you both. 

It was selfishness that had kept him away this long. Gaz was grieving too and he had been left with the responsibility of keeping your head above the water in the sea you had made of your sorrow. He had stayed by your side even when his own support system was waiting for him in his London flat. He had met Gaz’s partner a few times, he knew they would be there to soothe him like he needed. But because Ghost was a fucking coward, instead his Seargent (the one he hadn’t let fucking die in his arms) was with you. Only now the cracks were starting to show and Gaz needed to be home before he splintered entirely under the weight of it all. 

“Ghost?”

“Ok. I’ll be round tomorrow.”

–

30 days after the world ended

“You have got to be kidding.”

There was no way that the big scary man in the balaclava, that you still hadn’t seen him without despite your best efforts, was this hopeless at cooking. 

“S’too fucking long! Or your pot isn’t big enough!”

Oh God he sounded so unlike himself right then. Gone was the gruff, smug bastard and in his place was, dare you say, someone embarrassed. And he damn well should be in honesty. What grown man couldn’t even make spaghetti? All the pasta noodles had a section of scorching from where they had been left laying against the edge of the pot. There was a startling sound in the air, one you had forgotten existed. His eyes were wide as it carried through the room. It took you a moment to parse the sound. It was coming from you. You were laughing. 

His wide eyed surprise quickly giving way to a glare over the fact that you would dare laugh at his expense only made you laugh harder, clutching at your stomach with one arm and wiping frantically at your watering eyes with the other. 

“Big scary skull man defeated by Italian food!” you wheezed, your entire body clinging to the feeling of giddy lightness at this moment. “Is that why you wear it? Hiding the mortification from being outdone by” you paused to read the packet and the ridiculousness of it only made you laugh hard enough to be snorting like a pig, “Fedelini number 10!”

Ghost nearly ripped off his balaclava right there and then to prove he was not in fact mortified which would have been a disaster considering his logical brain was certain his cheeks and ears were burning red, but little Joseph rescued him from the further humiliation when he gave a happy gurgle from his high chair that had you scooping him up. You were laughing and cooing at him as you showed him the burnt pasta, telling him about the big scary skull man who was hiding his face for fear of reprisal from every Italian on the planet.

It was the first time you had held him without those storm clouds in your eyes and that awful rigidity from all the tension swimming through you. He was struck terrified for a moment that he would fuck up and this fragile happiness would shatter, but when you turned to him, making fun of him through the baby, his mouth was moving before he could overthink it. 

“Your ma’s a brat Joe. She forgets that I saw her attempt at a birthday cake.”

“It was avant garde! And it was still delicious!” you said with a gasp of outrage that he would dare to bring up the great birthday cake disaster of 2021. 

“You know he only told you that to spare your feelings, right princess?”

You pressed Joseph to your chest with a hand to his ear, feigning blocking him from hearing such slander. 

“This is why the universe messed up your hearing J, to protect you from all these lies coming from casper over here.”

The pasta was thrown out and you ordered in (Italian of course). Now that you could hold Joseph without your gut roiling you found you didn’t want to stop, but you still paused at the bedroom door and passed him off to Ghost instead. He didn’t push it, not tonight, not after you had laughed and held Joe and not drowned at the mention of something Johnny had said. Soon though. He was getting you back into a proper bed soon.

–

2 months after the world ended

Price was staying out of it although taking great amusement in watching it happen (even if his heart felt like it was in a woodchipper watching the biggest two casualties of his war). Joseph in his arms was happy to tug at his beard and not too concerned about the fight happening. 

You were like a fucking feral cat is what Ghost thought as you kicked your legs and battered your fists against his back. He didn’t really think about it when he laid a spank on your ass causing an indignant squawk from you. Maybe if either of you were willing to see one another as anything but enemies it might have caused an entirely different reaction.

“You put me down you fucking animal!”

“Language princess, little ears listening.”

Oh he thought he was hilarious clearly since you both knew Price had turned off Joe’s hearing aid the minute this started kicking off. You thought otherwise. Stupid bonehead didn’t have a funny bone in his body. Prick.

“I’m not bloody sleeping there!”

“Yes you bloody are!”

He had coaxed you into the bedroom over the last few weeks, but despite his efforts you still wouldn’t sleep in the bed and he had completely run out of patience. Compassion had been fully overruled by annoyance. You were an absolute pain in his arse and it was driving him crazy that you would be so stubborn about this. 

Plus he was starting to get antsy about sleeping on the bedroom floor. Since you were on the couch he couldn’t take that, and even though the bed smelled faintly of Gaz which would have been fine, the first time he had laid down in it the bottom pillow still held a whisper of whiskey in front of a fireplace, frosted pine trees perfuming through a window. So he had slept on the floor and not told you. Then he had just sort of kept doing it. 

“Jesus fuck woman!” he hissed when your nails dragged up his back as he crossed the threshold to the bedroom. 

“Should’ve wore your fucking kevlar if you were intending on getting into a fight with me. I’m going to rip you apart casper.”

He laughed as he grabbed your hips and up ended you over his shoulder and onto the bed, an offt coming from you as you bounced. You hadn’t been on this bed since the world ended. The thought of it would floor you. It had taken a monumental effort to even be in the room. Ghost had only convinced you with the fact that Joe slept better with the crib in the bedroom and needed his mum to put him down for naps and sleeps.

Only now all the panic you usually felt in this room, all the horror of the idea of being in this bed, was crushed under the weight of your fury at this idiot’s smug eyes looking down at you. Not on your life would you let him win a fight. Just because he was a lumbering giant with bad taste in masks did not mean he could take you on. So instead of hyperventilating and crawling off the bed to curl up on the floor and cry, you lunged to throttle him. 

When the growling and yelling stopped a minute or so later Price peeked into the room to make sure you hadn’t actually killed one another to find both of you in the bed, your back to Simon’s chest with his legs pinning yours and his arms holding you lightly in a sleeper hold. Not enough to significantly cut off your oxygen, but enough to immobilise you and have you silently simmering with rage at being caught. 

There were red lines down Simon’s arms, claw marks. Your hair was a mess, mussed and wrecked from what must have been a savage wrestling match. Was that…? Price laughed as he bounced Joseph.

“Better hope she isn’t rabid Simon.”

“He started it” you grumbled, maybe a little chagrined now faced with the reality of Captain John Price seeing teeth marks on his soldier’s forearm. 

Joseph perked up and chubby little hands flailed as he reached toward you. Price sat down on the edge of the bed to hand the little bundle of trouble over into your arms, Ghost’s hold loosening as his legs released yours and his arms dropped, hands finding a comfortable position lightly resting on your hips.

Neither of you put any conscious thought into the position, you sat between his legs, almost leant back on his chest with the baby cooing happily in your arms as Ghost waggled his eyebrows over your shoulder. You were both content to just lay all your attention on the most perfect baby to have ever existed and his beautiful eyes. 

The woodchipper whirred violently.

–

4 months after the world ended

You didn’t know what was more startling about the fact that Ghost had just burst into the bathroom with Joseph in his arms, the fact that you were naked in the bath or the fact that you could see Simon Riley. 

He sort of lived with you now, neither of you willing to be the first to voice that you were doing a lot better these days and probably didn’t need someone living in to make sure you didn’t go off the deep end. You thought Kyle was going to say something about it last time he visited, but he seemed to think better of it and kept quiet. 

But in all that time you had never seen him without his mask. You had caught glimpses of a strong jawline when he ate, seen clear eyes when he stopped putting eye black on them a few weeks back. Strangely after wanting to trick him into letting you see him, you had ignored the chance of it a week ago. He had been leaning over the crib and you caught a glimpse of skin that told you he had his balaclava off. Only you didn’t walk in. You don’t know why you didn’t. Instead you quietly left the room again and stood by the wall outside, covering your mouth to smother an unexpected sob when you heard the soft sound of a lullaby being sung.

He was a wild and twisted sort of handsome (not that he hadn’t told you several times he was good looking, for such a large and intimidating man he was actually a bit of an arrogant, smug tosser once you got to know him). The scars didn’t really make you flinch, you were married to Johnny after all and while his face wasn’t too badly marked up outside of a few knicks and small lines he had plenty of gnarled scar tissue around his body. You had been married to him. His face hadn’t been too badly marked.

“Ok, hang on, let’s do it again for mum Joe.”

Simon looked almost crazed as he stuck his tongue out at your son, seemingly not bothered in the slightest that you were still very much completely naked in the bath. You would have screamed at him to get out, only as he started screwing up his nose and crossing his eyes J laughed and any concern about your state of dress or his rude interruption died in your throat. 

“Oh… oh my God! Fuck wait where’s my phone! Can you do it again J? Is Simon’s face funny?” you cooed, nearly sliding and cracking your head open as you rushed to your feet and lunged out of the tub to get your phone from the counter so you could make sure you had video evidence of this moment forever. 

Both an unmasked Simon and a dripping wet and naked you cooed and made silly faces and laughed along for the next 10 minutes before Joseph decided he was well and truly tuckered out from practising his new talent and conked out on Simon’s shoulder. 

Only without the excitement of baby’s first laugh did you both realise the situation and blink in shock at one another. Simon’s eyes flickered briefly over you, and absolutely ass that he was he bit his lip to stifle a laugh.

“Nice piercing.”

Your face blazed red. Simon Riley had no business knowing that you had a barbell through the hood of your clit.

“Cute scars.”

Simon found the tips of his ears warming. You had no business knowing that he had a variety of scars on his face.

As if the spell keeping you both frozen in place broke, you snatched a towel and turned to wrap yourself in it while he turned his back so you couldn’t see his face. Both stood in the bathroom, backs to one another, there was an awkward beat of hesitation with neither of you knowing how to diffuse this situation. 

“I’ll… put him down. I’ll put him down.”

“Yes. Yeah. I’ll just… get dressed.”

“Right.”

You were both very careful to not bring it up again, even when Simon never wore the balaclava around the house after that.

–

6 months after the world ended

It was love in the guise of friendship. Neither of you were stupid enough to acknowledge it. 

–

2 hours after the fuck up of the century

“Permission to speak freely Captain.”

“Granted.”

“I fucking told ye so. Simmons has always been a shitebag, and now he’s fucked us.”

“...I won’t make you stay.”

“Aye, but we both know if I pull out of this now the world gets dirty.”

The despair settled into Price’s bones. John MacTavish should be on his way to exfil right now, but instead was on the other end of a burner phone as Price sat in the helo that wouldn’t be taking his Sergeant home as planned. 

He hated this. He hated holding little Joseph MacTavish knowing that Soap was missing it. He hated looking at you and seeing the way your eyes sometimes glazed, mind drifting to your apparently dead husband. He hated looking at Simon and seeing a man slowly falling in love and drowning in guilt about it.

But he had to get dirty to keep the world clean. 

So they changed the plan. Simmons had well and truly fucked it and now they needed to be in it for the long haul. John MacTavish would stay a dead man. Vladimir Makarov would be given no reason to suspect that his double agent was a triple agent, which meant a comms blackout until Soap was certain beyond doubt that it was time to pull the trigger. Nobody but him, Price and Laswell would ever know.

There was one thing asked of Price and he swore to it. He would do anything in his power to make sure you and Joseph were happy and looked after. He didn’t dare comment when after a moment, Soap added Simon Riley to that small list.

#mhairiwrites #cod #fanfic #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader

[chloedrewitt]

𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙚 - 𝘿𝙖𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙏𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙮𝙚𝙣 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 [𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 3]

summary: One year has passed, and you have remained at King Viserys’ court, offering your talents as pyromancer and to strengthen relations between Volantis and King’s Landing. Daemon was sent to the Stepstones long ago, and has now returned with a crown atop his head. When he visits you at your workshop, intending to finish where you left off last time, he will soon realize that fire is not the only thing that’s going to burn.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Female Pyromancer!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, smut, praise, dom!Daemon, hair pulling, biting

a/n: thank you guys for all the likes, reblogs and comments! 🥰 They really make my day and I am glad so many of you are enjoying this story. But again, asexual author disclaimer😭I really tried, though. (How are we feeling about a part 4?)

Part 1, Part 2 

Request status: open [info]

Taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s​  @omgsuperstarg​​ @agentstarkid @faatxma @a-lil-bit-nuts @wasntpriscilla @glitterandgoldfinds  @judig92​ @le3h4 @evyiione @severewobblerlightdragon​ @miahxelizabeth​ @ren-ni​ @paprikabadger​ @isaxbella749​​

If you wish to be added to or removed from the character taglist, please comment underneath this post​.

Masterlist - Ko-fi

🔞 This story contains NSFW content. Reader discretion is advised. Minors DNI. 🔞

You had heard of Prince Daemon’s return before he even set foot in the castle. Caraxes had been spotted flying circles high above King’s Landing, before he lowered himself to the castle grounds. Unlike the others at court, who could not wait to enter the main hall either out of curiosity or whether to see if it was really the rogue prince, you spent the day in your workshop. 

Months ago, you had traveled back to Volantis on a ship so graciously offered to you by King Viserys, and explained what had happened to your elder sister, Vaessa. Being the skilled politician that she was, she suggested trying to build up an alliance with the Targaryens. The other two Triarchs had stared at her as if she’d gone mad, but had come to give it a try at least. 

In exchange for sending you and a handful of other mages back to King’s Landing, as well as offering the king some Valyrian steel, Volantis received dragon eggs. Years ago, it was the most powerful and prosperous of the Free Cities and your sister hoped that with dragons on her side, she would restore Volantis to its proper glory. 

You sighed as sparks flew around you, created by the impact of your hammer on hot steel. It was dark in the workshop, as it was located beneath the castle so that no natural light could enter it, and the fire behind you was the only source of light. It illuminated your ash-stained face when you turned around, sparks reflected in the black of your pupils.

After you had returned from Volantis, you were accepted as an official member of King Viserys’ court, so it would have been expected of you to be there upon the prince’s arrival, but you never really forgave him for leaving you like that at the barn, and leaving to fight in some war after not saying a single word to you. 

Back then, you had been in need of aid, food and shelter but now, you were an established Lady, even if your activities sparked more controversy among the Westerosi nobles than anything else. It would have been nicer had King Viserys not released Daemon from watching you, as he seemed to be the only other person at the castle who did not care much for the opinion of others.

You hit the steel again, the sound it created cutting through the silence of the workshop like a knife. You were neither wearing protective gear nor glasses to shield you from the heat, but the fire didn’t burn you anyway, even if you touched it. 

The heavy door opened all of the sudden, making you stop and raise your gaze towards the uninvited guest. Expecting a guard, you began talking about how you needed more firewood but were quickly silenced by the sight in front of you. 

“Is that how you greet a king,” Daemon said, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was wearing a white tunic, and you noticed his hair was short now. Much to your irritation, he was also smiling, self-assurance reeking from him like a foul stench. 

“No,” you replied, putting your hammer aside to pick up the still hot blade you were forging with your bare hand. It did not even redden your skin. “But I see no king before me.”

Daemon laughed, actually laughed, as he pushed himself away from the door to stand opposite from you, the stone desk you were working at being the only thing to separate you two. 

“My anger is not to be ridiculed,” you hissed, just in time for the blade to do the same as you dunk it into a bucket of water. After you pulled it out, you studied it for a bit, taking in the metal to see what you would have to continue working on to get the desired shape. You were trying to focus on your work, but Daemon never took his eyes off of you. 

“And for what do I deserve your anger, Lady (y/n)?” You opened your mouth to snap at him, but he cut you off. “It is really ‘Lady’ now, is it not? You have made quite the name for yourself in my absence.” 

“You speak as though your presence would have had any impact on it.”

The smile on his lips slowly faded and you saw his expression change to a more calculating one, eyes narrowing in thought. You placed the blade back on your working desk and reached out towards the flame burning in the fireplace behind you. A piece of it separated itself from the main fire and jumped towards your hand, where it kept burning. 

When you saw that Daemon had still not left, you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Is there anything I can help you with, my prince?”

“So now you care to use formalities,” he replied, walking around the desk until he stood right next to you, the difference in height between you more evident than before. 

You, however, did not flinch as you placed the blade in your hand, holding it over the fire you kept alive with sheer willpower, though it was almost innate to you now. Having been trained since birth, an exercise such as this was like tying your leather boots. 

“I care to finish the blade your brother commissioned.” You placed the glowing steel on the desk as the flame in your hand kept burning. Daemon dropped his gaze to it, apparently fascinated by how you could hold fire. It was painfully obvious to you how close he was, and it started to seriously mess with your head. 

“It is beautiful,” said the prince as he reached out, aiming to touch the flame. But before he could do so, you pulled your hand back and suffocated it by forming a fist. 

“Careful, my prince,” you said, mischief in your voice. “This is no ordinary fire. Your Targaryen blood will most likely not shield you from its burn.”

“And your Lenaerys blood will?” He raised his eyebrows, which momentarily made his eyes seem brighter in the newfound light. You only snorted, as if everything depended on blood and its purity. Magic did not work that way. 

You let a finger run over the glowing, hot blade. Though the impact let smoke rise from the steel, it did not burn your skin. “The fire doesn’t harm me because I am commanding it not to. Fire mages have no resistance towards heat, we have simply learned how to control it so it does not burn us.”

Daemon hummed, his eyes jumping to something behind you before recentering on your face. “And why is that fire there expanding, then?” 

“What?” You turned around with the blade still in your hand and, due to the quick movement, accidentally cut yourself on its sharp end. You hissed, giving him a venomous glare when you saw that he was simply trying to distract you. “Amusing,” you grumbled, placing the steel weapon onto the desk. 

The cut on your finger was not deep, but the sharp pain it created enough to bring you discomfort. Your hands and arms were still stained from the ashes you had been working with, making the risk for an infection bigger. 

“Don’t touch it,” Daemon said when you wanted to reach for a small box standing on a shelf behind you. “

You watched as he took the box and opened it, taking out a small bottle he quickly identified as alcohol and a bandage, which showed signs of having been used before, but had luckily been washed thoroughly. He extended a hand and you were briefly reminded of the way he had held yours in the dragon barn before he left, but tried to push the thoughts aside as you hesitantly laid your hand in his. 

He opened the small bottle and poured some of the liquor on your wound, making you clench your teeth in pain. You were embarrassed about the tears stinging your eyes, so you looked away until you felt him gently wrapping the bandage around your finger. He left it thin, since it was not deep or dangerous to you, and fixed it with a little bow that made you have to hide a laugh behind a feigned cough. 

“This is how you fix bandages,” he clarified, your attempt at hiding the laugh clearly unsuccessful. 

“I know, it is just… unexpected from you. People talk, you know. At court especially, and you seem to be their most desired subject of gossip. How ruthless you can be.” The only thing you managed to say were fragments of full sentences, but he didn’t seem to notice. 

Daemon snorted, a loose strand of white hair falling in his face. You had not mentioned it, but the new hairstyle suited him. 

“I imagine they talk just as much about you.” You followed his gaze to your trousers, which were only partially hidden behind your crimson coat. It had a sigil right above your heart; a sword and a flame. Since nobles in Volantis did not have sigils for their Houses, you had designed one after permanently taking up residence in Westeros. Even if it was more of an unofficial thing. 

“The short hair suits you,” he said, twirling a strand of your hair around his index finger. You didn’t know whether you felt offended or aroused by the bold gesture. 

A few weeks ago, you had cut your hair until it barely reached your jawline to make sure it wouldn’t get in the way of your training, which you continued on your own here at court. At first you had regretted that decision and missed the long hair that was usually expected of someone like you, but it proved to be a useful decision after all. 

“I could say the same about you,” you replied, your voice sounding more like a whisper. His eyes flickered between yours, and you saw the muscles in his jaw tense. He wanted to say something, but you could sense the conflict in him. 

“Why did you leave without saying a word?” You said instead, which earned you a deep sigh from the Targaryen prince. “It’s not like I’m entitled to hearing from you, I know that,” you added, sounding more indifferent than you intended to. “But given the condition you left me in, at least a ‘goodbye’ would have been appreciated.” 

You turned your head to the side to find your blade slowly cooling on its own, but Daemon quickly moved his hand to your chin, which he trapped between index finger and thumb to force you to look at him. As he parted his lips, his gaze briefly dropped to yours. 

“I am here now, aren’t I?” He whispered, and you had to use the crackling of the fire close by as an anchor to reality. Too big was the risk of submitting to a fantasy. You swallowed, which didn’t go unnoticed by Daemon. 

When you didn’t respond, he added, “Have you thought of me?”

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, which was answer enough. The triumphant, albeit faint, smile on his face made you want to roll your eyes, but his gaze was magnetic and it held you captive. 

“Tell me,” he traced your cheekbone with the back of his index finger and you turned your head halfway to allow him better access. You hadn’t noticed until now, but your hands had both gripped a fistful of your cloak. Reluctantly, you let go of the fabric. 

“Yes,” you replied, shocked about how breathless you were, but the finger on your cheek was sending waves of electricity through your body. 

“Good girl,” he whispered in your ear, shortly before placing a kiss just underneath it. It was so faint that you didn’t know whether you had imagined it, your eyes glued to the fire next to you. 

His lips ghosted over your neck as you watched the flames burn, a hand finding its way to the back of his head, where you buried it in his white hair. Only hardly did you resist the urge to pull him closer, your thighs almost aching with need. 

You knew this was all just a fantasy, created by attraction and desire, and nothing more. Yet the way his touches felt and the sound of his voice made you feel like he was the only man in the world who could ever satisfy you by look alone. The thought made you hold onto him out of fear that your legs might fail you. 

Feeling this, he let his hands wander down your arms and sides, until they rested on the back of your thighs. Just as his lips finally connected with the soft skin of your neck, he tightened his grip around your legs and lifted you up, so that you could sit on the desk. The blade you had been forging was long forgotten, as he pulled away slightly to look at you. The fire behind him made the outline of his hair seem like it was glowing. 

“Did you think of me when you touched yourself at night?” He looked at you with a predator’s gaze, his eyes seeming black with the lack of lighting. You bit your lip, angling one leg so that the heel of your foot rested on the desk. When you looked closer at Daemon, you saw that some of the ash stains had rubbed off on him. 

You took your sweet time to answer, and he certainly did not like that. Closing the distance between you, he touched your bottom lip with his thumb as he raised a knee to place it right between your thighs. You shivered, swallowing the moan that threatened to emerge. His knee exerted just enough pressure to leave you aching for more.

His lips ghosted over yours, barely brushing them as he tilted his head from one side to the other. “Say it, (y/n). I want to hear you say it.” 

You bit your bottom lip, thinking back to the very first night you had spent in Westeros, after Daemon had left you needing him. How you felt but a phantom of his touch between your legs, on your thigh, on your arm. 

“I traced the lines you had drawn on my skin almost every night, imagining the hand was yours, imagining you were here.”

“I am here now,” he rasped as he brushed your cloak off your body, letting it drop to the floor where the fabric pooled next to his feet. You responded by untying the knots of his tunic until it half-revealed his torso. His hand found its way into your hair, gently scratching your scalp a few times before he fisted his hand and forced your head back, revealing your neck to him fully. He pressed his lips against it, trapping the skin between his teeth gently at first, and then hard enough that you almost cried out. 

As if to make up for it, he licked the spot and then began sucking so that it would most definitely leave a mark on you. You had wrapped your arms around his neck by now, and freed his shoulders from the fabric that used to cover them. The sleeves of his tunic dropped to his elbows, but he quickly threw the tunic somewhere behind you, exposing his bare chest to you. 

His face was still buried in your neck, teeth now grazing your collarbone, so you took the opportunity to place your palms on his bare back. Almost immediately, you felt the skin underneath you warm up, not too much to cause any harm or burn through the bandage around your finger, but strong enough to make Daemon growl in approval. 

With his free hand, he began unbuttoning your trousers and helped you strip them off by raising you into the air a few centimeters. Your shirt and undergarments followed quickly until you were left completely exposed before him.

His hungry eyes trailed up and down your body before they met yours again. You could see the need in his eyes, and the bulge growing between his legs. Daemon placed his hand on your chest, pushed you down onto the desk and rid himself of his own trousers before climbing on top of you, pinning you against the table. But your eyes were glued to his lips, which you had not yet even tasted. 

Daemon must have thought the same, since he finally lowered his head and pressed his lips to yours. They were soft and demanding, not waiting long before he brushed his tongue against your lips, which made you part them just enough to grant him entrance. 

At the same time, he placed his hand between your thighs, the feeling of his fingers making you gasp against his lips, and you could feel his smirk as he began massaging. A thin layer of sweat coated your forehead now. 

“I’ve wanted to fuck you ever since I saw you on that beach,” he murmured, and you had to bite back a moan as he inserted a finger. “And look how ready you are for me now.” 

The fire behind him rose when he curled his finger inside you, soon to be followed by another. It was an involuntary reaction you had to the way he was electrifying every single cell in your body. You had never once lost control over your magic since the day you’d turned fourteen, and yet here you were, a perfectly skilled adult, letting a flame dance in accordance to your pleasure. 

He removed his fingers then, only to replace them with his cock, as he licked his slick-covered hand and let out a groan that made you think you had never heard anything more beautiful in the world. Your lips connected again while he began thrusting, his pace increasing the more time passed, you let out soft moans of approval.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, but it took you a few seconds to register what he had said as you felt a pressure building up in your lower abdomen. 

“I-” 

He cut you off with another kiss, his tongue meeting yours before he gently sucked on your bottom lip. The sounds that came from both of you were raw and almost animalistic in nature. You were sure that if anyone passed by your workshop, they would be flustered just by listening in. 

When the pressure finally released, his name left your lips and you felt like your body had been lit on fire. The flame behind Daemon stretched until it reached the stone ceiling, before swiftly shrinking again. He groaned deeply, and you felt his own release only moments after yours. You both panted, the sweat that covered your bodies making your skin shimmer in the dimly lit room.

A few strands of hair stuck to your forehead, and Daemon brushed them out of your face as he rose to his feet again, offering you a hand to help you sit up. You almost crashed into his chest, had he not taken hold of your chin and tilted your head upwards. 

You looked up at him, mouth agape as you still caught your breath. 

“I meant what I said, you know.”  

You furrowed your eyebrows for a moment, not sure what exactly he was referring to. Then he added with a hint of a warning undertone and a raspy voice, “You’re mine, (y/n). And mine only.”

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #matt smith #house of the dragon #hotd #got #game of thrones #smut #daemon targaryen smut

[vigarioamelia]

there are a lot of tragic characters in elden ring (pretty much everyone lol) but godwyn exudes a kind of Shakespearean tragedy that just makes me feel so bad for him

godwyn the... betrayed

do you guys remember that trend? jupiter was supposed to be a star but failed?

alexa, play the old doll audio

i'll be talking a lot about godwyn so uh big words trigger warning i guess

Godwyn the Golden, the first child of Godfrey and Queen Marika the Eternal and also the first Demigod known to ever perish.

He was the first descendant of the Golden Line and one of his traits is *literally* being friends with dragons.

Whenever he's mentioned, grief is involved. Both the grief of a Mother and the grief of the people.

He was part of the Golden Order, but we know for a fact he was no maniac for its fundamentals, given the genuine bond he had with Fortissax, for example.

I know we can't really Know this stuff but come on, Godwyn seemed like a certified Big Bro™. He gives the feeling of how pure a person should be. Royal blood – of the purest kind! From the lore we have of him, it appears that he really was The ideal prince.

I like to believe he was particularly fond of the Omen Twins and that, even though they grew up in completely opposite worlds from each other, he was always sort of There. Better than Marika, that's for sure. Just imagine big bro Godwyn taking his baby bros for a tour around the capital. They spend the entire day running around and Godwyn looks so peaceful that the twins can't help but feel that too, if only for a moment.

Not to mention the tender relationship he probably had with the cursed twins.

When Godwyn's spirit was slayed during the Night of the Black Knives, he received a fate worse than death itself: the curse of living in Death.

He who should be crowned golden as the Lord among them all was crowned in ruin as the Prince of Death.

Godwyn will not only never die, but he will never live again. His existence is a terror that punishes the roots of the Erdtree, a thing that not even Miquella was able to stop or help in any way.

This once sweet and kind and beautiful lord is now nothing but a creature spreading across the land.

When both Miquella and Fortissax failed to give him a proper death and rest, what then remained of his body was laid under the roots of the Erdtree. A bit fair, isn't it? First of the Demigod, ruined and buried under the Erdree, where he will slowly but certainly cause destruction and despair all across the land, bringing death to all it touches.

It kills me that the place where he's buried is so dark and lonely and scary. The Godwyn before the Rune of Death was assured to have dozens if not hundreds of statues and paintings and churches and whatever to honor him.

But Godwyn the Golden ceased to exist. There's no one left to adore or admire or cherish. The only thing left is Godwyn the Prince of Death.

He's now worshipped by the undead, Those Who Live in Death, as D calls them. Is there a more tragic end for a royal who was once beloved all across a golden capital?

The only way to change his fate is to make things even WORSE.

Restore the Elden Ring with the Rune of Death and he supposedly comes back again, but. Oh. My. Fucking. God. I would literally go fucking insane if I first opened my eyes to the world I cherished and grew up on completely destroyed by MYSELF without my damn consent.

If he became Prince of Death by his own choice? Fucking sexy. I would support him. SLAY (literally).

But this? My man was ROBBED.

Imagine being "reborn" (in death) and realizing that EVERYONE from your life is dead. The place where you ran around as a kid? Fucking demolished, DIRTY with ashes. ASHES OF DEAD PEOPLE.

AND YOU'RE THEIR MONARCH.

There's NOTHING to rule and most of all THERE'S NOTHING TO PROTECT.

Literally the worst thing that could happen to a dude.

look what the fuck they did to my baby holy shit there truly wasn't enough room for a blonde twink in the lands between was there

Ohh... Oh,  Lord Godwyn... Such cruelty, such humiliation... My poor, sweet lordling should have died a true death. As the first of the demigods to die. As a martyr to Destined Death. But why must it yet bring such disgrace? A scion of the golden bough, sentenced to live in Death...

i really only have two things left to say:

1. godwyn was too sexy to be in the game so miyazaki gave him the worst fate known to humanity (godhood?)

2. this happened to my buddy eric

#elden ring #elden ring dlc #elden ring shadow of the erdtree #shadow of the erdtree #elden ring godwyn #godwyn the prince of death #godwyn the golden #GODWYN PLEASE COME HOME #im really having godwyn feels if you cant tell #he just seemed so nice #no *pat pat* like yk #elden ring miquella #miquella the unalloyed #game theory #lichdragon fortissax #elden ring fortissax #godwyn please

[allthedoorsareopennow]

ALRIGHT. LET’S INVESTIGATE THE UDAD PHOTOS. MUCH INFORMATION BELOW. SO MUCH

ok top left. brian is the oracle of delphi, of course in greek mythology the most prominent oracle

bottom left. for some reason the goddess artemis’ name seems to have been misspelled as artimes? I have no idea why. artemis is the olympian that features in actea and lyssa.

bottom right. seems to suggest marius’ lecture will take place in the aristotle institute - aristotle is a famous greek philosopher (among other things, grouped loosely as a polymath)

top right. as you likely know, these are military dog tags, usually intended to allow for the identification of corpses. an enomotarch is the commander of an enotomy, a division of 25-36 soldiers, bound together by oath. this seems to be a term originating in Sparta.

middle right. tipple seems to be a term for alcohol, consistent with the bottle top the term appears on. the toy soldier seems to have made its own liquor brand while in the city. (perhaps DB stands for dionysus bacchus, the greek and roman names respectively for the god of alcohol?)

right. a coin is shown, on one side reading ‘to speed the/journey down’. this likely is about the belief that the ferryman (charon) who takes the dead souls across the river acheron and into the underworld must be paid. virgil’s aeneid claims that if the deceased cannot afford to pay the ferryman, they must wander the shores of the styx (another underworld river, in some stories providing the same function as the acheron) for one hundred years before they are allowed to cross into the underworld. thus having this coin to give the ferryman would literally speed the journey down into the underworld in greek mythology. also depicted on this side is the logo of the acheron. on the other side of the coin is featured a headshot of ashes, with the text ‘a penny’ above (the smallest british unit of currency). I cannot discern the text below.

background. the blueprint for the aegis, which in homer’s iliad is a device carried by athena pr zeus, interpreted as either an animal skin or a shield, sometimes featuring the head of a gorgon, that symbolises protection.

the text on the left appears to read as follows:

‘…[ti]tanium…n for the…ens district…[lig]htning rod

‘spikes - they look badass

‘Durable Ti core

‘Moderator’

Ti is the chemical symbol for titanium. also depicted is a uranium fission reaction. a moderator is something else that is needed in a fission reactor core, so this must be a design for a fission reactor. ‘enriched to 90%’ refers to the uranium - uranium-235 is the most fissile isotope, so the more U-235 you have, the more fission you can achieve. for context, reactors often use uranium enriched to 3.5-4.5% - 90% is overkill by a long way for energy generation purposes. my guess is that this reactor core is designed to provide huge amounts of energy to operate sone kind of lightning device, likely intended for zeus (the god of lightning). it is signed by athena and raphaella la cognizi.

BRING FORTH THE NEXT IMAGE!

another acheron coin is shown. I'm not really sure what’s happening in most of this one.

ANOTHER!

more acheron coins and a half-visible toy soldier’s tipple bottle cap. the focus of this picture is a torn and blood-splattered coaster for Calypso’s, the bar from which the suits kidnapped ulysses.

NEXT!

now this is more like it

a zeus coin is depicted, showing five credits - presumably the official currency of the city

there is a gambling chip bearing the name hermes, perhaps referencing his role as a trickster god

the guitar pick is stamped with the name apollo, the greek god of music and song.

there is a fragment of a newspaper cover - we will get more shots of this later.

the emblem of poseidon is shown to be a trident, a weapon poseidon is often depicted as wielding, representing his status as god of the sea.

wow I wonder what name is on that card it’s mostly blocked I wonder if the next will have the name..

BEHOLD!

so that’s presumably an ID card for a security guard, whose name we can now see is Anippe ?aiad. Anippe in greek mythology is the egyptian daughter of the river god nilus, and is thus a naiad, so the name on the card is Anippe Naiad. I can find little information about her, other than that heracles killed her son.

we also get a look at ulysses here, the the text ‘//ALL POINTS FUGITIVE ALERT//‘ above their mugshot.

NEXT!

the text on the ulysses info that seems to be on some kind of old tablet reads

…1) COUNT THEFT:

…[CYCLO]PS - POSEIDON PROPERTY

…OR CAPTURE: DR-25000

…E BOUNTY

…S:

SPONSORED BY POSEIDON INDUSTRIES

CLICK TO LEARN MORE

this seems to be putting a bounty of ‘DR-25000’ (presumably a currency?) on ulysses’ head for the theft of the eye of the cyclops.

more newspaper.. shall we take a closer look?

across four different images, here is the newspaper:

TRANSCRIPT BEGINS

ALL THE NEWS ALL THE TIME

LARGEST HOME CIRCULATION

LARGEST ADVERTISING VOLUME

DELPHI 2374

The City Oracle Telephone Number

THE CITY ORACLE

IN THREE PARTS - 46 1…

PART 1 - GENERAL NEWS…

ORACLE OFFICE

292 West Hector Stree[t]

VOL. LVIII KRONOU MORNING, GAMELION 5, 12390 DAILY, 5 DRACH[MA]

OEDIPUS IN INCEST MARRIAGE SCANDAL

SHOCKING NEW REVELATIONS OVER IDENTITY OF HERO DOCTOR'S WIFE AND MOTHER

MAN WHO CURED THE SPHINX TRIES TO PLEAD IGNORANCE - WILL SEEK TO FIND REFUGE OFF WORLD

(columns on right):

INSIDE

NARCISSUS DENIES PLASTIC SURGERY CLAIMS

HERMES TO UNVEIL NEW HI-SPEED MAGLINES

FORTY DEAD IN SUB-LEVEL 54D EXPLOSIONS: WHO IS “GUNPOWDER TIM?”

TWENTY YEARS FROM ILIUM: WILL THE SCARS EVER HEAL?

Oedipus Rex, the doctor hailed as a hero after successfully curing the disease ravaging the sublevel slums, has been revealed to have been married to his own mother for the last eight years, in what is being hailed as the social scandal of the decade.

Mr. Rex previously claimed to have grown up in one of the City's most troubled orphanages. However, a source within the Acheron has claimed that Teiresias, one of the network's most trusted interfaces, revealed his true origins yesterday.

“I didn’t know,” Oedipus told The Oracle, “I’d always believed my parents to be dead. I had no way of knowing they were even alive, let alone…”

Oedipus’ wife and mother, Jocasta Rex, has been unavailable for comment. She was last seen boarding a transport line to Outer Thebes, an area known for the number of suicides it attracts.

It is known she had been married once before to Laius, Mayor of one of the Thebian districts at the centre of the Sphinx epidemic. It was repoterd that he disappeared shortly before the announcement of the cure, under circumstances described by City PD as ‘suspicious’.

CONTINUED PG.5

HERACLES ACQUITTED ON MISTRIAL TECHNICALITY

The City High Court finally came to a ruling today in the case of Heracles, the notorious figure at the centre of the murder trial which has gripped the City for the last four weeks.

Heracles, who worked for the House of Zeus as head security for fifty years before resigning under unknown circumstances last Theozenios, was found not guilty of the brutal slaying and dismemberment of his wife and two children.

According to sources familiar with the case, he was found lying unconscious in his home, surrounded by the bodies of his family, holding in his hand what was at first thought to be the murder weapon. However, forensic evidence regarding the blade was judged to have been inadmissible, and his insistence he was defending his family from an attacker swayed the jury.

Heracles has been unable to identify the assailant against which he was struggling. This is not the first time Heracles has been involved in accusations of violence. Rumours persist that he may have been the infamous “Thunderbolt of Zeus” while working with the company, despite no connection ever being proven between the Olympian patriarch and the unknown hitman.

CONTINUED PG.9

TRANSCRIPT ENDS

Delphi and the oracle are referenced several times.

A drachma is a greek unit of currency, hence why I have guessed that as the unit of price for the newspaper.

Teiresias, the one referenced as revealing Oedipus’ parentage, is a blind prophet of Apollo from Thebes, known for clairvoyance and being transformed into a woman for several years. he is referenced as being one of the first brains volunteered into the acheron in the fiction, and holds and manages all the knowledge of the acheron.

Theoxenia seems to be a descriptor for greek mythology stories in which characters show benevolence and hospitality to strangers who turn out to be disguised deities capable of reward. These stories encourage people to treat anyone they meet as potential disguised divinity.

ONWARD!

another oracle of delphi ad, the corner of the newspaper, and part of hades’ file on oedipus..

TRANSCRIPT BEGINS (pencil markings in orange)

Name: Oedipus Rex not given surname

Occupation: Doctor (Retired) Disgraced

Age: 52 No records- abandoned at birth. Estimate Height: 5’10” Weight: 132l[b]

Hair: Chestnut Eyes: N/A self-blind[ed]

District: Thebes

Abandoned by wealthy but paranoid parents at birth. Olympians secret[ly] pulled strings, used him as poster [child] for failing orphanage scheme. Notab[le] for successfully researching the cause/[…] for the Sphinx - exceptional intel[ligence] shown. Worthy candidate for "Trial [by] Wits". Currently seeking to leave T[he] City after publicised patricide and maternal relations; will likely pla[…] ball given ample funding. EXPLOIT

END TRANSCRIPT

the tab at the side reads WITS. as well as oedipus’ fingerprints, there is a dirty handprint in the top right of the document. the newspaper appears to be stained with rings of tea or coffee.

at first I thought the photo of oedipus featured in hades’ document was this one, but it doesn’t quite match. it’s a good photo anyway.

NEXT

gunpowder tim’s dog tags from earlier are visible at the base of the photo again. A different part of Oedipus’ file is shown, showing a handprint and the start of a date on the photo of Oedipus, beginning 08/12. a map is shown too, with crosses through two locations and a circle around another. from what I can see the streets seem to mostly have fairly generic names.

sadly I have now reached image limit. when I have made the next post, I will link it here.

update I realised some of the stuff guessing cut off words and such that I did is pointless because the full documents for a bunch of them are in the goddamn cd book thing. and I kind of can’t be bothered to finish cause it feels like half the stuff I did was pointless. if you would be interested say so and maybe I will do more. but otherwise. nah

#udad #original post #the mechanisms #the mechs #doors researches

[madhatterbri]

Mine | K.M.

Summary: Your manipulative ex shows up at your job on Valentine's Day. Kol makes sure he shows the guy you are his.... permanently.

As expected with Kol, character death. 😂

Y/N stood behind the counter, checking over all the names for the first morning tour of the day. No one seemed to stick out among the row of names. Just a few tourists looking to get their history fill on the day of love. You went to your office to grab your water bottle when you heard a familiar voice.

"Good morning, ladies. Happy Valentine's Day. I have some beignets!" Your ex announced happily in the store. You stood frozen in shock that he would come to your job after all these months.

"Oh, wow. Did you bring those for us?" your co-worker asked happily. She stood from her desk and leaned against the counter. You walked over and watched your manipulative ex work his magic. He hadn't changed one bit.

"Of course I did. I just hated that my Y/N had to work today. I wanted to stop in to see her. Help yourself," he smiled and placed the box in front of you. Your mouth dropped open in shock. "I got three boxes for you all to enjoy,"

He made sure to stare into your eyes. Your coworkers sang their praises to him while getting a treat. Even some of the customers complimented him for his romantic gesture. "I am just a guy who loves Y/N,"

You walked to your office to separate yourself from him. You sat on your chair and buried your face in your hands. Kol wouldn't be happy to hear about this. You thought all this was done and over after Kol "talked" to him the last time. He followed you to your office.

"What are you doing here?" You asked. "We broke up months ago,"

"I am just here being a loving boyfriend," he answered with a sinister smile. Your stomach dropped. "Do you really want to make a scene?"

🧛‍♂️

Kol held your hand as the dead body of your ex lay before you. He previously texted you to meet him in the cemetery. You never expected to see this. His heart ripped out. A look of pure terror forever left on his face. You turned to see dried blood down on your boyfriend's chin and shirt.

"You killed the son of a powerful witch. You can't leave his body here for the witches to find. What's going to happen now?" You asked with tears in your eyes. As a human, you didn't have many options to protect yourself. He simply shrugged.

"They will know now to with what is mine, Y/N," he spoke possessively. "You are mine, always and forever,"

"But nothing. I will burn this whole city to ash to protect you. Do you understand me?"

#fanfiction #tvd fanfiction #tvd fandom #the originals fanfiction #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson fanfiction #kol mikaelson x you #kol mikaelson x y/n #kol mikaelson

[yanderestuff]

Could we maybe get you ocs with a childhood friend darling 👀

Yanderes with childhood friend darling.

Omg! This such a good idea thank you! I was really short of ideas.

You and AJ grew up together. You knew how much AJ loved playing guitar. You saw AJ date others and break up with others, but at the end of the day AJ always was your childhood friend. AJ is a bit of a man whore, dating women and men constantly only to break up with them the next day. You knew AJ changed from the sweet little blonde kid next door. You knew AJ wasn't the same kid who you brought soup to when she had a severe illness that would have killed them.

AJ would only start feeling the effects of the bond hard when he turned 18. AJ has always felt the bond, but it was there sense he was little. He thought it was normal. AJ gets really over protective, and a bit possessive having lost so much. "My dad left me behind, my mom left me behind, my brother left me behind, but you won't, right?"

You knew how much of a softy Kuro was. You were middle school sweet hearts as Kuro realized, 1 your his mate, and 2 he loved you. You would hear him complain about how Samira was messing with his work, and how he hated his sisters marriage to Princess Dina.

He clings to you when alone and acts like a koala. After a long day of drug dealing, Killing, and blackmailing. He comes how and see a candy he and AJ loved as kids and his heart just melts.

You and Samira grew up in what most would call, a shady neighborhood. You would often find her beating up a kid who looked at you funny or talking to Kuro and different ways to quickly load a gun. She uses sarcasm alot and doesn't like being home with her dad.

She is quicker to trust you and quicker to be soft with you. She's more open with a childhood friend darling and Samira loves that you already. Know her. She will give you more freedom than normal darling.

She grew up in a high class family, so you probably were also high class, or friends with Ash, one of her few friends. She was a very sheltered kid so she would probably not talk to you as much till middle school. When she finds out your her mate she is very protective and caring.

She would treat a childhood darling and a normal darling about the same. Very lovey dovey, clingy, and very obsessive.

Sam lived in a small cabin in the woods. There were very few cabins nearby. Most were older couples without kids or whose kids were already grown. When she finds you, someone the same age she gets excited and hangs out with you. She probably shows you around the forest, and some magic.

She would love a childhood friend darling. Someone who already knows about her magic and lives close by. You most definitely will have a clingy witch near you always.

Dina is a princess so your either a royal, or a servant. If you were a royal than you probably would get engaged to her early on in arranged marriage due to her asking her parents to do so. If your a servant than she'll make sure you can't leave and give you simple tasks that won't take to much of your time, so you can spend it with her.

She probably married you early on. She will give you the best everything, and unlike normally will take you to meetings or to do work, as you are queen. She will be spending almost all her time with you and her work.

Ashley was a very popular kid. She knew you stood out among her friends and spent as much time as she could with you. If you know a instrument she will love it. She dated someone before they broke up, because she knew it wasn't the right fit.

She will take you with her band everywhere. You and Zarah are also friends and hang out often. She is much more lenient with a childhood friend darling. She trusts you more as you've stuck with her this long why stop. She still is over protective though and yells at others when they're to close.

#yandere #yandere oc #my oc #yan #yandere x reader #fem yandere #my oc aj #my oc ava #my oc kuro #yandere male #male yandere #yandere princess #yan witch #my oc dina #my oc samantha

[waltwhitmansbeard]

been working on this for weeks but consider it a present for @ravendruid's birthday. extremely rated e, lol, as i create the slutty keyleth rep i wish to see in my fandom.

Keyleth doesn't get horny. It's not that she doesn't like sex, because she does. She likes sex with Vax, specifically, the only kind of sex she knows, because he makes it fun and because she likes seeing how happy and relaxed it makes him and because she swears he knows her body better than she does, the way he's able to pull sounds and sensations from her that she'd never have known she was capable of.

No, Keyleth likes sex. She just never...seeks it out. It's an out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. She's got a thousand things on her plate these days, so much going on and so many people counting on her, that if Vax weren't there to kiss slowly down her neck as she finishes her reading for the next day's meeting or run his hands along her waist while she gets changed, she probably would forget sex existed altogether.

Which is what makes this so strange. There was a terrible accident at a bakery in the wee hours of the morning, an oven malfunction that resulted in two-thirds of the building burning near to ash before the flames could be stamped out. Much of Zephrah has gathered to help, clearing out debris and helping the air genasi family that owns the bakery recover what they can from the wreckage. Keyleth and Vax were among the first on the scene, having been woken with the news by a Blade, and in the intervening hours, they've managed to organize what will become the rebuilding efforts.

Keyleth is meant to be discussing what needs to be physically handled versus what can be fixed via arcane means, but she's not listening to a word one of the few wizards who lives in town is saying. Instead, her attention is entirely consumed by Vax, who is helping the baker affix a large tarp over the portions of the building left standing to act as a makeshift wall. Vax's sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, revealing muscular forearms that strain to reach up to hold the tarp in place. His long hair has been haphazardly braided out of they way, and two spare nails bounce between his full lips as he and the baker discuss their strategy for tackling the tarp. At one point, Vax brings a hand down to wipe sweat off of his forehead, leaving a streak of ash and dust in its wake. He reaches back up to hold a nail in place for the baker to hammer in, and once they're done, he relaxes back down, grins at their success, and claps the baker on the back.

Keyleth wants to climb him like a tree.

She's taken so aback by the intensity of her own lust that the wizard has to say her name three times for her to drag her eyes away from the muscles Keyleth can see beneath the back of Vax's sweat-slick shirt. He's clearly annoyed, this wizard, but Keyleth's missed every word for minutes now. "Can I trust you with this?" she asks, desperately, she imagines. She doesn't wait for an answer, just turns around and weaves her way through the crowd of neighbors until she's at Vax's side.

"Hey!" He gives her his easy smile, the one that normally makes her feel warm but now makes her feel as though she herself will soon be ash and smoke. "Got this up, so at least we won't be damaging what's left as we clean up this mess. How are things going on the magic front?"

It is by the grace of the gods that Keyleth doesn't shove him up against the tarp he's so proud of and knock the remainder of this bakery to the ground. "I think...we need to head home. Just for a bit."

His brow furrows. "I think we can still help out here. At the very least we can help get the fallen beams out of the way."

"Mhm, yeah." The mid-morning sun illuminates the sheen over his face. She's going crazy. "I just...there is something at home. That can help."

"Oh. And...you need me to go with you."

"Mhm!" She doesn't know how to convey how fucking desperate she is for him to shut the fuck up and come with her now. "Please."

"Okay." He's clearly confused, but he turns to tell the baker that they'll be back in just a bit before sliding his hand into hers and allowing himself to be tugged in the direction of home. She doesn't blame him for his bewilderment; neither of them has any precedent for this, her sudden, uncontrollable, unshakable need for him. She doesn't even know how she's going to explain it to him—hopefully she won't have to. Hopefully he'll catch on quick.

He's so damn friendly, saying hello to everyone they pass, giving quick updates on the situation as she half-yanks him along. She knows she must seem absolutely feral right now, and, well, she feels it. Can he feel the thundering of her heart in his palm? Is her skin burning his, her nails digging into his hands? No, he is oblivious, grinning and cordial to each of their neighbors. Normally she thrills in how easily he's made a home of her people, but not today. Today she's hungry.

When they get to the little cottage set aside just for them, she fumbles with the key, missing the keyhole three times before Vax's long, practiced fingers curl over hers and pluck the key from her hand. "Okay." He unlocks the door and pushes it open. "You need to tell me what's going on, because you're—oh."

She shoves him inside, slams the door shut with her foot and then spins him around so his back's against it. His face blooms in surprise as she presses herself against him. "Driving me fucking crazy," she growls, pawing at the shirt hem tucked into his trousers like a cat trying to get a bird through a window. "Such a jerk, looking like this—" She bites down into the crook of his neck.

He hisses, his hands coming to clench at her waist. "Holy shit, Kiki." Finally, she's able to yank his shirt free, skitter her hands up his stomach, where he warm and hard and hers. "You...oh gods..." Good, his brain's just as fried as hers is. Serves him right. "This...it's different."

She kisses him, all teeth and spit. It's a far cry from the way he so tenderly kisses her, no reverence or care. She kisses to mark, to claim, to devour. One of his hands, broad and so very skilled, pulls her in closer by the small of her back, while the other grabs fully onto her ass. She growls into him; going fucking crazy.

Vax breaks away with a gasp. "Kiki." She pushes up on his shirt, which is now bunched up around his armpits. "Kiki." He takes her by the shoulders and pushes her a few inches away. "What the hell is going on?"

She doesn't know what she looks like, but by the bafflement on his face, she must look wild. Her skin is on fire, and there is a pounding up and down her torso that she has never felt outside of the bedroom before. Somewhere beneath the sizzling want, there is embarrassment, humiliation for losing control like this, but right now, she just can't bring herself to care.

"You..." She swallows, willing her blood to stop boiling for a second so she can formulate something resembling a cogent thought. "You just...with the sweat and the shirt and the arms, fuck—" She digs her nails into his bicep like she's going to tear it out from beneath his skin. "I'm losing my mind."

He smiles, then, the kind of mischievous smile he tries to hide from her when he doesn't want her to think he's laughing at her even though he definitely is. "Keyleth...are you horny?"

"Jerk." She shoves his shoulders again, so he bounces off of the door, and then, before he can decide to tease her anymore, she falls to her knees.

She doesn't do this often. She gets so self-conscious, more concerned about how he's reacting and how awkward her neck feels and how sometimes it really is difficult to breath instead of on just doing it. Vax never complains, never asks for reciprocation after he so gleefully eats her out, and so she knows she's out of practice. She can't stop the shaking in her fingers as she tugs at the laces of his trousers, where he is already straining against the leather.

"K-Keyleth." Good, now he sounds just as flustered as she feels. "Are...are you sure?"

She answers by tugging his loosened pants down to reveal his half-hard length, which, after one deep breath, she takes in her mouth as far as it will go. From above, she hears a sickening crack as, she assumes, his head slams back against the door. "Fuck," he groans, his hands coming to weave into her hair. They tug, and it's rough, far rougher than he normally is with her. "F-F-Fuck, Kiki."

She wants to swallow him whole. She wants to unhinge her jaw like a snake and consume him, claim him entirely for her own. He tastes salty, like skin, like sweat. As she swallows back her own saliva, the fingers in her hair tighten and a high keen rips from his chest. Keyleth can’t help the hot wave of satisfaction that ripples over her skin; she did that.

“Keyleth,” Vax pants, his breath coming fast and hard. She hollows out her cheeks. “Oh fuck—K-kiki, wait.”

She doesn’t take her mouth off of him, just looks up with the best approximation of a frown she can muster in this position. His face is a mess, mouth agape, eyes unfocused. “Gonna…not gonna make it,” he gasps out. “Want…you…”

Well. She’s not going to argue with that. Reluctantly, she pulls her head back, letting her tongue trail out from beneath the length of him, and his legs nearly buckle out from under him. The hand in her hair slowly uncoils, like Vax has to actively think about how to relax each of his fingers, and Keyleth stands. She wonders what she looks like, so flushed with wanting him, wonders if he can tell exactly what he’s doing to her.

His hands grab her face and pull it to his, the kiss of a starving man. Vax has a hundred ways of kissing her, tender in the mornings, excited after they’ve been apart, curious when he’s aroused and testing her waters. This is different. He kisses her like he’s trying to catch up, like she’s a wild beast he’s chasing through the woods.

Her hands find his waist again and she’s tugging, yanking him away from the door and deeper into the cottage. Vax stumbles, his pants at an awkward height around his thighs, but he’s dexterous, he’ll figure it out. After a few moments, the backs of her legs hit something solid, and Vax’s lips don’t need to leave hers for his arm to come out and sweep whatever had been on their little kitchen table onto the floor. Some vague part of her mind tries to analyze the resulting crash to figure out what exactly just got unceremoniously tossed to the ground, but she finds she just doesn’t care all that much. Let it break. She’s busy.

Vax’s fingers grip her waist hard, and she’s going up, slammed onto the table. Her legs wrap around him automatically as she scrambles have him closer, closer. His lips trail down to her neck and his fingers, long, nimble, so very good at what they do, fumble at her waistband. “Fuck,” she sighs, her head falling back so he can mouth at her throat.

“Fucking pants,” he growls. “Are they usually this difficult?”

“Losing your touch?” She pulls the tip of his ear into her mouth and sucks on it.

He tugs harder. “Keep making fun of me and you’ll lose my touch.” Then manages to yank her pants down and off in one fell swoop, making her yelp. The table is cold under her ass, but she finds it easy to ignore as two fingers slide into her as easily as they might lace through hers on a stroll through town. "Keyleth," he groans against her mouth. "You're soaked."

"Your fault," she gasps, heart jerking erratically in her throat as he works tight circles inside her. "Your fault your fault your fault—"

Annoying bastard as the nerve to look pleased, like he's proud to have reduced her to this. Because she is reduced, just hot skin and slick thighs and lips that need to be touching him at all times. He obliges her, one hand on the back of her head, crushing her mouth to his, while the other hand, arm pinned between their torsos, seamlessly slips a third finger inside. The sound she makes is animalistic, something she thought she'd only be capable of making while wild shaping. He's simply too good at this. He's not even looking, just an innate expert touch that makes the flame in her belly burn brighter. How does he know exactly where to brush those callused fingertips? How has she not exploded yet?

Her arms, draped around his neck to keep him as physically close as possible, squeeze down between them, to tug at where he's hard and leaking in front of her. He bites on her lip in encouragement, and his fingers—fuck she loves his fingers—slip out of the way just in time for her to kick her heel into his ass to shove his hips forward. He enters her all at once, rough, unforgiving, and her back bows with the force of it.

It's never felt like this before. Normally it's gentle, quiet, romantic, Vax being so careful to ensure that she's not in any discomfort, that she's having a good time. This is not that. Vax fucks into her hard and fast, the table vibrating beneath her as she clings onto him for dear life. She buries her face into the crook of his neck as stars explode behind her eyes. She feels so full, her every nerve sparking and crackling as she pulls him in deeper, deeper. This is it, whatever she was craving, whatever need he spawned in her, he's giving it to her now, and she can't get enough. Her breath staccatos as the muscles in her stomach tighten—she is so, so close.

He knows this, knows what makes her tick better than she does, so the hand that had been gripping her waist to keep her steady comes around to work precise, nimble circles into her clit. That's all it takes. Her body seizes, vision going white as the breath whooshes from her body. She's clenched around him, subsuming him entirely; she cannot begin to understand where she ends and he begins.

The force of it brings him with her, and when he spills inside, he gasps hot breath into her chest. Her ears ring, the sound of her own blood pumping louder than anything she's ever heard before, but as her muscles slowly begin to relax, she hears a sound, strange, high-pitched, soft—oh. That's her.

"Kiki." Vax leans heavily against her, and her jelly bones struggle to keep them both upright. "Kiki."

Her hand comes up to stroke his hair, to calm him, to congratulate him, honestly, she's not sure. She swallows this keening noise that is coming from somewhere inside her and pants, "Good...job. We did it."

Vax snorts a laugh into her shoulder, barely keeping himself up on the edge of the table. "That was...holy shit."

Now Keyleth feels it, that pride that earlier annoyed her when on his face. She did this, left him silly and speechless and sweating. Somewhere, on the farthest edges of her mind, that self-conscious embarrassment is threatening to creep back in, but frankly, she's too wrung-out to notice. "Sorry to...spring that on you. I was...affected."

Vax hauls himself up to take her face in his hands and plant the hardest, filthiest kiss on her mouth. "Do not ever apologize for that," he growls, and the sound make her still-quivering folds twitch. "That was...fucking transcendental."

"No fair," she pouts. "No big words."

"I'm very sorry." He runs his fingers, still slick from her, through her hair, and she's too tired to be grossed out. "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but...what brought this on?"

She shrugs, and her skin is getting hot again, the embarrassment beginning to win the war over post-coital stupidity. "You."

He grins at her, the dumb, happy grin that she cherishes like no other. "Well. Now you know how I feel, like, all the time."

She gapes at him. "You feel like that? All the time?"

"Pretty much! Not my fault my girlfriend is a sexy, all-powerful nature goddess!"

"Oh my god." She ducks her head against his chest. "I thought I was going to shatter into a thousand pieces."

"Are you telling me you didn't?"

She rolls her eyes and shoves him. "Alright, my horny meltdown is over, time to get back to work."

"Yes ma'am." He steps back so she can slide off of the table, and they both look at each other askance. "But uh...shower first?"

"Yeah, good idea."

#critical role #critical role fic #cr fic #my fic #vaxleth #vaxleth fic #vox machina #vox machina fic

[fiction-box]

To End Where You Started

GN!Reader x Dimitri

This is a response to a request for a GN!Reader who was childhood friends with Dimitri before switching sides once it came time for the war. This one took me much longer to write because I wanted to better establish the circumstances of the work. Hopefully, you love it all the more! If you like this, there is another I wrote for the same prompt with Felix on my page!

Requests are open. The story will continue under the cut.

You’ve always valued human life. 

So when you saw Dimitri in the Holy Mausoleum, his mind lost and his lance bloody, you weren't sure what to do next.

It seemed no one knew what to do next. Felix was standing in front of Annette, glaring daggers at the blond. Mercedes slowly shifted toward her friend as Sylvain and Ingrid exchanged worried yet knowing looks. Dedue stepped forward, though he had no words. Even the professor seemed to be at a loss.

Dimitri, however, just began laughing again and shouting nonsense.

“No one will rest until Edelgard and the rest of the Empire force are burning in hell.”

“Your Highness-”

“Did I stutter, Dedue? Or perhaps you are considering turning your back on me now?”

 “Snap out of it, Boar!” Felix growled. “We’re not going to-”

“Then leave! If you no longer see me as your leader, why not go join her?’

Silence.

You could only watch as Dimitri’s eyes scanned the faces of your allies, daring your friends to take a step in either direction. No one spoke, but there was a palpable tension in everyone’s body. In the way that Mercedes and Annette clung to each other, in the way that Felix kept his hand by his sword, Dedue kept silent and steady, and Professor Byleth did not intervene. In the way that Sylvain grit his teeth, Ashe pursed his lips, and Ingrid practically strangled the pole of her lance.

In the way that you stepped forward, quiet yet resolute.

“I won’t be treated like this.”

Dimitri scowled, “You’re a soldier, aren’t you? You signed up for this the moment you joined the Blue Lion house.”

“I signed up to fight in the hopes of protecting Faerghus and its people! I signed up to honor my family and keep the ones I love safe!” you shouted over him before bringing your voice back down. “There is no honor in this.”

“And you would not serve your future king? Where is your honor in running away?”

“I would not bow to those corrupted by their emotions! No one who would act in such a manner ought to represent Faerghus!”

“Then go to her! Run off and join the scum of the earth that march under that woman’s name!” he spat. “But mark my words, when we do meet again, I shall meet you with the fate of a traitor. There will be no mercy even should you beg for it. Do not expect remorse from any of us when your head, too, rolls upon the dirt.”

You did not allow your face to betray any emotion at all. You would show no sign of anything, despite the way his words cut through you. How could someone you practically exalted, someone you had become so close to over the past several months, turn around and talk to you like this.

Maybe your friends weren’t strong enough to stand up for themselves. Maybe they had too much to lose; people to protect and family to remain with. Ideals, relations, and possessions that could only be secure if they sided with Dimitri. A few had said as such, declaring their belief in Dimitri as their future king.

You loved them dearly, but there wasn’t a single one among them that you would allow yourself to be treated this way for. Especially not now, when none cared to stand up for you.

Finally, you clenched your teeth. If that was how he really felt, and if your friends were letting him speak for them, then that truly was the end of it.

“Maybe I will go. Edelgard would at least pretend to care whether I live or die, and the Black Eagles are actually bold enough to stand up for what they believe.”

Spinning on your heel, you left the Mausoleum alone. 

In truth, you had no intention of joining the empire. At least not at first. Once you arrived back home, you informed your parents of the prince’s delusion. They seemed to be proud of your decision, and as proof of their support, chose to become a neutral faction in the war. 

The amount of prestige and connections that came with that sacrifice…you were torn between being moved and remorseful. While it was true that your family had not lost too much power, as crest wielding houses tended not to do, there was still a great sacrifice made in keeping you safe from the Kingdom’s demands.

That was not the only change, however. It turns out that news travels fast when the family of a veritable noble house defects from their allies. People were stopping by left and right, bargaining troop stations, land usage, resource management, and all the other things that would keep your mother and father busy. You chose to focus on defending your land, though it did not consist of much work while both the Alliance and the Empire found it so valuable.

Needless to say, you were more than curious the day your mother called you into one of the drawing rooms to meet with one of her guests.

“Mother, what is this about? You know I prefer not to attend these sorts of things.”

“Oh, I know very well, darling. This one is a bit different, though. Someone has requested to confer with you directly, and I would have been in a bit of a tight spot to say no.”

“What do you mean?”

“It is no secret that we have been both opening up to and prospering from negotiations from several sides of this war. There have been enticing offers to nullify our neutrality and pledge allegiance here or there. You know this.”

“Oh,” you were beginning to catch on. “So then someone must have made an offer that you liked?”

“Just…promise me you’ll keep an open mind.”

“Of course.” 

With an odd tension about you, you braced yourself for whatever would be found in that room. Your mother was not usually one to be so cryptic. A quiet sigh left your lips as you turned around.

The doors opened in front of you.

“Ah, I see you made your way here without much trouble.”

…what?

“Lady Edelgard? What are you-...Shouldn’t you be heading the war effort somewhere?”

What was this, really?

Remembering yourself, you lowered yourself in greeting, “Forgive me, your Imperial Majesty.”

You rose, trying to process the image in front of you. The Emperor of Adrestia sat poised on the sofa with a cup of tea your mother had no doubt been the one to offer. At her side stood Hubert, dutiful as he was so often described.

Soundlessly, she set down her cup, “Everything I do is for the future. For this war to end. I took notice that you were not among your former classmates’ ranks and grew curious. Needless to say, I did not need to look far to find you.”

“It was not my intention to run and hide,” you stated, taking a seat on the couch across from Edelgard.

“I never meant to imply as such,” she began. “On the contrary, I believe you still have a place in this war. If you left for the reasons I believe you did, that is.”

The conversation that followed consisted of platitudes and ideals; the type of which you both seemed to agree upon. You found your own ideas of the values of talent and human life to be eerily similar. It was decidedly reassuring that she had come to you directly, so that you could see them reflected in the leader of the Empire firsthand.

In time, you would join the Empire’s ranks under a woman named Cornelia while your house remained neutral. It would not have been in the best interests for a house so distant from the Empire to declare fealty, after all.

~~~~~~~

Several years later, you would be uncertain of your decision.

After everything you had witnessed Edelgard do up to this point, you weren’t so sure she viewed your ideals in the same light. Crest beasts, experiments, secret treaties, and deals made in the dark of night…you couldn’t get behind it, but your family had already made its decision.

Even so…

I agreed to fight for the empire, you reminded yourself, not for this woman.

Right now, you were being assigned to defend the Kingdom’s capital in an effort led by Cornelia. Ironically, the sorceress seemed to be the epitome of everything you stood against, yet here you were as her ally.

How far you had come from home.

She had positioned you between a pair of horrifying machines; two technological terrors known as viskam.

How low you must have come from your initial meeting with the Emperor.

You watched as your previous house leader’s army dispersed. Some soldiers veered left, others went right, but Dimitri’s main force charged up the middle, directly at you and the mechs Cornelia had placed.

Watching diligently, you noted how the Kingdom soldiers would take on multiple of Cornelia’s fighters while Dimitri would sneak past.

Well, as sneaky as someone with a bright fur cape and a target on his back could be.

A thought came to mind with every step forward he took. It came slowly, not sudden in the slightest, but sure.

If I were to kill Dimitri, all of this would end.

It was true, you knew. You were unsure how you felt about it, though you deduced that part of that uncertainty came from your past friendship with the prince. But had he truly reverted from the monster you left in the Holy Mausoleum?

There was only one way to find out, you supposed. You would face your past friend head-on. If he turned out to be the same man you saw that day, you would not hesitate to kill him. Anything to end this war.

Just as he made his way to the staircase, you walked forward, blocking off the top.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Dimitri’s eyes went wide, but you didn’t buy it. He had a clear view of you positioned just below Cornelia since the moment he walked into her sight.

So what, then? Were you to believe his surprise came from the idea that you were actually trying to stop him? You’d be lying if you said that wasn’t the slightest bit insulting.

“It’s you…but why-”

You threw a dagger at him, which whiffed as he sidestepped, “That’s all I get? It’s you? After all those years, not to mention the amalgamation of everything you said and did once the Flame Emperor unmasked herself, you cannot even say my name?”

His eyes softened as though hurt, “I didn’t think I had the privilege, anymore.”

“Then fight me! You have always given yourself the privilege to take the lives of others,” another dagger, this one closer to hitting its mark before Dimitri barely moved out of the way, “Do not let mine be any different.”

“I’m sorry,” he approached you, climbing the stairs, “I understand why you left, but know now that I do not wish to hurt you. Just step aside so-”

“And then what? Let you kill Cornelia? Condemn thousands of others in some future conquest?”

What were you doing? This version of Dimitri was worlds apart from the boy you left in the Holy Mausoleum.

So why were you still fighting him?

A loud noise disrupted your thoughts. You turned to face it, noting that Dimitri paused, as well. Farther away, Cornelia let out a dark cackle.

“Wonderful job getting the poor princeling right where I need him. Your death will not be in vain.”

You did not allow yourself to fully process her words as a bright light shot out of the viskam that had made that awful noise, earlier. With the future king just paces away, you could guess where it was going to land.

But Dimitri had turned to face Cornelia.

It appeared you had a choice to make.

“Don’t resist,” you closed the distance between yourself and the Kingdom's rightful heir. He had grown since your last encounter; holding this grudge could only do more harm than good.

Maybe that meant you would not survive this, but in that moment, what was your life next to his?

So, in the second before he could react and before the viskam struck, you pushed Dimitri down the stairs.

And it was when the world went from bright white to pitch black that you knew your death would not be in vain.

~~~~

“A…ing…rk?”

“We…bre…ag?”

“I bel…sh…wake up in…!”

Everything ached, and you couldn’t move. It would probably hurt if you tried, anyway.

At least you could feel something, right? At least you were alive. Though if you had to go through life like this, then perhaps you were better off dead.

But then a cooling sensation began to make itself known throughout your body. It was strongest in your head, torso, and legs, though you could feel it spreading and connecting in your arms and neck.

Tentatively, you allowed your eyes to open.

“Oh, thank goodness! Mercie, we did it!” Annette beamed from her position at your head.

Felix scoffed, “About time.”

“How do you feel? Are you alright?”

“I can’t feel my legs,” you managed, surprised at the strength of your own voice, “and…I cannot move.”

Scanning the area with your eyes, you realized you hadn’t been moved, either. You were still lying on the floor by the stairs; exactly where you remember being struck down.

“Is Cornelia…?”

“Dead,” Felix confirmed.

“And I remember pushing his Highness down the stairs. It was the best I could do with my own strength…” you had known you weren’t strong enough to normally push him far enough out of the way nor to pull him far enough before he instinctively resisted, ”but he isn’t hurt too badly, is he?”

“Oh goodness, no! Annie told me she saw the whole thing. Apparently, Dimitri caught himself rather quickly.” Mercedes reassured you.

Annette frowned, “I’ve never had to spend this much time on an injury, and certainly not while working with others. I’m surprised it’s taking this long.”

“I’m surprised you’re alive.”

“Felix!”

“What? You and I both saw that thing,” he turned from Annette back to you. “If you had sustained any other injuries before getting hit by that thing, you’d have been dead on the spot.”

Annette and Felix continued their banter as you shut your eyes and listened. Finally, you began to feel your body coming back to life; stronger and back into your control.

“Okay, I think that should do it! How does that feel?”

Annette waited another moment for your response before calling your name in confusion.

“Oops,” Mercedes giggled, “I think the magic might have lulled them to sleep. We did go a little overboard, I suppose.”

“Is everything alright?”

The group turned, looking up at the new voice that joined them.

“Prince Dimitri! Yes, everything is fine. They should be all better upon awakening.”

“Ah, that’s good. I am sorry to have left you all here for so long. Sylvain, Ingrid, and myself were working on reconciling with the remaining soldiers.”

Felix raised a brow, “Then where are they?”

“Once the issue of alliances was out of the way, Ingrid told me they could handle the rest,” Dimitri directed his eyes down to you. “Sylvain…said it might be best if I came to check on them.”

The swordsman’s expression didn’t change, “Well that doesn’t make any sense. There’s already three of us-! Hey!”

Dimitri balked as he watched Annette get up and drag Felix with her. Mercedes followed close behind, smiling back at him. 

“Let us know if they need any more help!” 

“Y-Yes of course…” he stammered, confused.

“Of course what?”

Shocked to hear your voice, the Blue Lion’s leader dropped his gaze unto where you had been resting on the floor, “Ah! You’re awake!”

You made a small noise, blinking against the light of the sun as you began to sit up.

“Mercedes told me to fetch her if you were having any issues. Are you alright?”

Methodically, you tested each of your limbs, “Yes…Yes, I think so.”

“Good,” he sighed, and you swore you saw him relax the slightest bit.

The ensuing silence was uncomfortable, to say the least.

“Forgive me for this. I know you’ve just recovered, but I’d like to thank you for saving my life.”

“You're welcome,” you said, “but why are you apologizing for that?”

He maintained eye contact with you, “Because I would also like to ask you why you did that.”

At first, you didn’t really have a response. The more you thought about it though, the more clear everything felt in your head. There was really only one answer.

“I just did what I thought was right.”

“But I was terrible to you!” Dimitri didn’t hesitate, “I said horrible things to you, and I treated you like…”

“Like I was worthless?”

It was as though all the words left Dimitri's mouth. After another moment of silence, he finally averted his gaze, “I do not deserve your forgiveness.”

“No, you really don’t, do you?”

…no reaction. So he was telling the truth.

“But, if you were to apologize, I might forgive you.”

He looked to you slowly, a look of timid surprise written on the blond’s face, “Surely, it would take more than that…”

“It should not take more than that if you are genuine,” you painted your face with a small frown, in conflict with yourself, “You’re not the same person you were 5 years ago, Dimitri. I am not about to make a habit of forgiving people just because some time has passed, but I know that many more people can be helped if we clear the air right now.”

“Right,” he swallowed, extending his hand down to you. “In that case, know that I am truly sorry for the way I treated you, both within the Holy Mausoleum and the several days before. I also apologize for the effect it has had upon both you and your family, though it seems you have found a way to make the most of your situation.”

You laughed a bit at that, accepting his offer to help you to your feet, “I suppose you could say that.”

Now it was the prince’s turn to frown, “I am being serious. This will not happen again. I promise to respect and honor both you and all that you do for the Blue Lions.” He paused, suddenly unsure, “If…you do choose to come back, that is.”

Turning away to hide the small blush that appeared at his phrasing, you looked at the stairwell, “It would be thoughtless not to join, seeing how I almost died for you.”

At the feeling of his hands on your arms, you turned back to him, surprised.

“You must promise to never do that again. Do you understand me?”

“I…you know I could never promise that. You’re too important.”

“Swear it anyway,” he pleaded. 

How uncharacteristic, you wondered.

“Really, Dimitri-”

“I don’t care if it’s a lie,” he let go of you, taking a step back while never wavering his gaze, “Just…”

He seemed to have run out of words, and all the two of you could do was stare at each other. Eventually, you broke first with a sigh. You couldn’t bear to maintain eye contact knowing you could never rely on your words alone to determine your future. Regardless, you spoke.

“...I…promise…that will not happen again.”

A grimace appeared on Dimitri’s face out of the corner of your eye, but the two of you spoke no more after that. Wordlessly, you left to go find Mercedes and the others. Where Dimitri went in the moments following, you had no clue, but the conversation would stay in your mind throughout the rest of the war.

Only time would tell if your promise was kept.

#fire emblem #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fiction #fe x reader #fe3h x reader #fire emblem x reader #x reader #fe dimitri #fe3h dimitri #dimitri fe3h #dimitri fire emblem #dimitri x reader #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd