#also why are the castle beds surrounded by walls

[bleh1bleh2]

smh no room

#space wolf and boyfriend means no room on bed :/ #keith is just Awake #aka me realizing ive never drawn kosmo and trying to fix it with a birds eye view angle #kosmo is so fluffly like my dog so i got a good reference photo #also why are the castle beds surrounded by walls #im just wondering #klance #voltron #(also keith is wearing his normal shirt under the robe. hes only half in pjs) #my art

[amywritesthings]

silver underground. / chapter 17.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin)

Word Count: 5.3K

Summary: flashback seven - also known as the day you meet the special operations squad after the underground heist failure... and a familiar face

Warnings: death ideation, mourning and grief, mentions of death, depression, lots of hurt, lots of comfort, a treat at the end

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER 17 - FLASHBACK: SEVEN

note: this is the final chapter that is heavily influenced by the ova 'no regrets'. this is my interpretations of the material. watch/read that first, otherwise you will get spoiled on elements revolving around levi's backstory.

“So these are the barracks.”

Petra Ral is nice. 

A bright-eyed ginger with too much excitement on her hands and too high of an opinion of the world — every time she opens her mouth, you’re painstakingly reminded of Isabel.

With your sudden intrusion into the Scout Regiment, all you have been met with are cold shoulders and judgmental eyes. Erwin was right: they resent your lack of cadet training. Quite frankly, you’re certain they resent everything about you.

Yet Petra glows in a warmth so many of the other Scouts lack.

She shouldn’t be here, and she shouldn’t be trying so hard to make friends in a line of work dedicated to dying.

Because if the gangs of the Underground were a revolving door, then the Scout Regiment was a windmill caught in a storm of bodies.

Under direct order from Commander Erwin, Petra has been assigned to play as your guide in the interim between now and the next Special Operations expedition. She’s responsible for catching you up to speed on anything from proper ODM gear usage (as if you need any) to team formation strategy (as if you’ll memorize any).

Erwin is, above all else, thorough. Nothing is left to chance in his branch and rightfully so; one bad move and a multitude of deaths will be on his hands.

Over sixty percent of Scouts die.

That number is not lost on you.

(Eventually you’ll be part of that statistic. It’s just a matter of how fast.)

The interior of the castle headquarters within Wall Maria is expansive. Beautiful, with gold-trim corners and marble floors — you marvel at the way the sun makes the white floor so much brighter, nearly blinding your retinas every time you stare a little too long.

Truthfully, you haven’t stopped staring. Not since you left the darkness and walked up those fateful Underground passage stairwell with the commander.

Just as you dreamed, the surface is beautiful. Breath-taking. Mind-numbingly overwhelming. From the luscious greenery surrounding the castle grounds, to the lively birds chirping in the endless sky, to the palpable warmth against your skin — you find yourself getting lost at the sights and sounds each passing window brings.

Petra finds your curiosity endearing, at the very least.

Erwin must have already disclosed your oddity — a dweller of the Underground City — before assigning her the task of babysitting. 

She doesn’t seem to care — about where you’re from, about bypassing standard cadet training, about your unwillingness to speak. Not like the others.

You’re not sure why.

Maybe she sees what you’ve tried hiding: the sadness that follows like a ball and chain through every room of this castle; the emptiness of your eyes when they meet hers; the way you fidget incessantly with your necklace, never quite letting go for longer than a few minutes.

(It’s all you have. That's all that’s left of them.)

“This is my bed, actually, but yours will be easy to find!”

Petra smiles brightly in your direction, eyes crinkling at the corners when they shut.

She should keep them open. She can’t trust you like that.

“It’s at the very end of the hallway. It’s got two sets of bunk beds but, uh…”

The original inhabitants recently died.

She doesn’t want to say that part.

“The rest of the team should be making it back soon.”

Petra steps out of the hallway, waving for you to join her. You numbly obey.

“How many people are on this team?” you ask.

“Currently?” she asks, and you nod. “We’re an expedition squad of five — well, seven, if you count Section Commander Hange and Moblit, but they don’t always come with us. Otherwise we have a couple dozen Scouts stationed in other areas to cover ground.”

“How come?” When she doesn’t answer right away, you clear your throat and clarify. “How come those two don’t always come with you?”

“Oh, Hange and Moblit? You’ll meet them eventually,” Petra explains, guiding you back to the grounds. “Hange is a little, uh, on the intense side, but they mean well. They head scientific research for the Scouts, so their work can keep them behind. Commander Erwin left to fetch them a few hours ago, actually, but they should be back by now. Probably going over titan reports.”

Quietly you follow her down a staircase, listening with little interest. Petra continues explaining the most recent discoveries of the Scouts — empty handed, no surprise there — and how she’s excited to learn from your skills — like you’d ever try.

Over and over, the pad of your thumb brushes the pendant between your fingers.

You haven’t slept in days.

You’ve barely eaten a crumb.

Everything has been at lightning speed and slow motion all at once.

The large oak doors at the front of the building have been wide open to air out the interior all day. When the two of you reach the foot of the staircase, you see movement in the distance outside.

Clouds of dust and dirt kick up behind them, but they’re too small to be titans.

“What’s that?” you softly ask, and Petra turns her attention to you.

“Hmm? Oh! The horses,” she supplies, waving you once again to follow her to the mouth of the entrance. You step in time with her. “That’s everyone coming back.”

“Everyone?”

“Yeah.” Petra leans against the hinge of a castle door, crossing her arms over her chest. “Eld Jinn is our second-in-command on Special Ops. Then you’ve got me, Oluo — pretty sure you already met him, but I don’t think you looked at him when he said hi — Gunther is with them, too, and—”

“Petra.”

A warm, deep voice calls out to your companion from behind. 

Immediately Petra stands taller, chin raised. You belatedly turn your head with an air of disrespect but never quite face it.

Because, by now, you know that voice belongs to Commander Erwin Smith.

(You don’t care what this son of a bitch has to say.)

“Commander, sir!” she greets.

You keep your focus on the tiny cloud of smoke kicked up by the horses. The green cloaks billow out from their shoulders, stretching like wings behind them.

From this distance you can make out the hair colors of the first three in the formation — a blond, a brunette, and in the center, a smaller black-haired individual.

“Are the stables ready for the incoming horses?”

“Yes, sir,” Petra chirps. “I already took care of everything before showing James around.”

“Great work, Ral. James.”

Erwin calls your name, but you ignore it. Instead you keep staring at the nearing horses. You try to time the clicking of their hooves to nothing in particular.

Anything, to avoid talking to him.

“Lieutenant.”

At the title, you finally blink your attention towards the taller blonde. He takes a step forward, standing what would have been shoulder to shoulder if not for his height.

“Yes, Commander?” you murmur, tone dripping with disinterest.

“Ready to meet the rest of your team?” he asks without skipping a beat.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you reply, drawing a slow exhale. “Though I can’t imagine they’ll be excited to meet me, considering I’ve—”

“Opted out of the rigorous cadet training like endured to get here?” the man finishes for you. Your brows instinctually furrow. “Unlikely. Your skill will speak for you once you’re out in the field.”

His chin raises towards the nearing Scouts.

“And as it stands,” Erwin continues, “you are not the only soul on this squad to bypass tradition.”

His verbiage almost makes you respond freely.

(What the hell do you mean by that, Smith?)

The first horse to enter the castle perimeter whinnies, loud and piercing.

You turn.

Blinking back to the returning Scouts, you feel it start in the pit of your stomach:

Neutrality bubbles and churns into something nasty, like you might get sick at a second’s notice, the second your eyes lock with the center-positioned Scout.

Under a wind-blown, jet-black fringe stares two sunken, narrowed eyes. The frayed pieces of hair kiss the man’s high cheekbones, accentuating the narrow point leading to his chin. He’s pale, sickly, with a sharpened nose and tightly pressed lips.

From the look of the bags under his eyes, he hasn’t slept in weeks.

He nears with the reins tight in either fist. His neck is covered with a chiffon ivory cravat, neatly tied to perfection against his Scout Regiment uniform — gone are the billowing sleeves and auburn vests where a tan, cropped jacket takes their place.

The emblem on his breast is the Wings of Freedom.

There’s no way.

You blink twice, three times, as many as it’ll take to wipe away the mirage in front of you.

Because it can’t be real.

That can’t be—

“Levi.”

Commander Erwin speaks. The horse kicks up its front hooves from a knee-jerk pull of the rein and protests with a high-pitched whine. Levi Ackerman turns his head in the direction of his voice.

Abruptly his chin stops midway, never quite finding Erwin.

Not when his eyes, overtaken by a growing white, see you.

And your world — his world — suddenly stops.

Levi’s complexion pales. All he does is stare — at you, at nothing but you, frozen in this momentary lapse of time with you.

Levi is alive.

Wetness wells at your lower lash line, unable to stop.

You can’t speak. You can’t run. You can’t breathe. Your mouth is dry. You haven’t blinked.

One word floods your mind.

Alive.

Alive, alive, alive—

“Captain Levi,” Erwin repeats, this time adding a… title?

Titles don’t exist in the Scouts. As far as you knew, you were the only one carrying something beyond Section Commander and Commander.

You can taste his reluctance when Levi forces himself to blink over to his superior office. He hoists a leg over the saddle and hops down to full height, yet turns his back to the rest of the squad to tend to his midnight black horse. He doesn't pivot.

“Commander,” he gruffly greets. “What is this about?”

Your throat closes up at the mere sound of his baritone, unimpressed voice.

It really is him. Levi never went to the gallows.

(And Erwin knew? The commander knew this entire time and said nothing?)

“What’s the status of our perimeter?” Erwin asks simply, ignoring the smaller man’s question.

“Only one three-meter ugly bitch within range,” Levi replies against the saddle. “We handled it.”

“Good,” Erwin chimes. The other Scouts — one blonde and lanky, another older with brunette hair, the last with a buzzcut and a serious expression — step off of their horses and face the Commander. “You arrived just in time to meet the replacement of this squad.”

“We already have new titan fodder?” the one man quips, smirking as he runs a hand across his horse’s mane. “Guess we did lose a lot of people last time.”

“Oluo,” Petra warns, eyes narrowing. “That would be Lieutenant to you.”

“Lieu-what?” the man named Oluo repeats under his breath.

Levi’s hand twitches at the rein.

Only then do you realize your hands are trembling at your sides.

“Lieutenant?”

Levi spits it out as he finally turns his chin over his shoulder, glaring daggers. The word is nothing more than a bite. Acidic.

“First a Captain, now a Lieutenant?” a lanky man with a ponytail asks, slowly and carefully.

“As of now, yes. We have a Lieutenant in our ranks. The first of her kind,” Erwin confirms. “And you’re to treat her with the same respect as you’ve shown our Captain.”

“With all due respect, sir—” Although Levi’s words are respectful on paper, they are anything but against his lips. “—I was under the impression that my squad was to be handpicked and handpicked only going forward.”

Erwin hums. “You would be correct, Captain. Lieutenant James, however, will be a vital asset to your newly-acquired squad. Petra has been kind enough to help her get acquainted with headquarters.”

“Has she been through training?”

Wait.

Is Levi pretending not to know you?

You stay perfectly still, unable to watch anything but him. He continues to stare at Erwin with such forced neutrality that you can see a vein protruding just under the white cravat.

“No,” Erwin plays along, raising a heavy brow. “She’s already proficient in handling ODM gear and hand-to-hand combat."

"She is?" Gunther pipes up, his surprise bordering on admiration.

Erwin continues. "Strengthening our numbers at haste after a significant loss was our most efficient strategy, and I think it will serve us well. Did you miss the detailed briefing I left on your desk before your patrol, Captain Levi?”

The castle grounds fall silent.

Levi’s shoulders, pinched together, now fall.

“Must have missed it,” he replies, feigning an annoyed boredom that you’ve heard so many times before. “So long as she doesn’t slow me down. If you’ll excuse me, I have shit to do.”

Lamely you watch him near you, heart trapped in your throat. You want to run to him, hold him, scream and cry about everything — the heist, the gang, the fucking Scouts — but you do nothing when he passes right by.

Straight past Erwin and into the castle, where he disappears up a flight of stairs and out of view.

As if he never existed.

(His scent is still the same calming fresh linen with a dash of chamomile that your brain clings to, but no comfort comes.)

Did you hallucinate his—

“Lieutenant,” Erwin says, breaking you out of this fever dream. “I want you to introduce yourself to Captain Levi once he’s settled. I think it’ll be good for the two of you to meet.”

You can’t help it: when you lock eyes with the commander, you let him know exactly what you’re thinking — that you know he’s tricked you with the narrative of death, that you’re trapped between relief and grief, and you want nothing more than to cause him pain.

With the way Erwin’s expression smooths, it stands to reason this was intentional.

To see what you’d do — what Levi would do — in this moment.

Though whether or not he understands the type of reunion he’s played out, you aren’t sure.

Two days ago you wanted to die, to simply disappear at the idea of losing Levi, and now? He’s in the flesh wearing a Survey Corps uniform, manning his own squad, and…

You feel something wet slick against your palm and look down:

Red.

You’ve pressed your fingernails so hard into your hand that it's drawn blood.

“Permission to leave, Commander?” you ask, teeth grit against every syllable. “I have to get settled in myself.”

“Permission granted,” Erwin replies with authority.

You waste not a minute more to bolt into the castle.

Petra calls after you to wait for her, but the ringing in your ears, the panic attack budding in your veins, drowns her niceties out.

Levi is alive.

Levi is alive and a captain in the Survey Corps.

You have to find him.

.

.

.

.

.

You search for hours.

In the supply basement, in the sparring chamber, in the kitchens —

Levi is nowhere to be found.

Did you imagine him today?

The conversation with Erwin, the arrival of the Scouts… most of it feels real, but you doubt your own sanity when you cannot find your best friend.

Several doors are locked, but when you lean your ear against the wooden slab, no noise emits.

Empty.

Eventually Petra finds you stalking down a hallway and convinces you to come with her to the mess hall. Supper with the rest of the Scouts could mean he’s there, so you agree.

He isn’t.

The man they call Oluo is as pompous as he’d been outside. The others — Gunther, the buzzcut one, and Eld, the lanky blonde that asserts himself as a second-in-command — are less invasive and more so curious about how you’ve managed to get here.

All you do is ignore them and stare at the stew growing cold on your spoon.

You want to ask about Captain Levi, but you’re too afraid to speak his name — as if breathing his existence into their presence may snap the only red string tying you to what was once a dream.

When Gunther opens up a bottle of wine, you quietly excuse yourself to bed.

No one objects.

Rushing up the stairwell, you head towards the bedroom Petra assigned to you.

It takes every ounce of strength not to scream at the top of your lungs like a madwoman in the middle of the hallway from the growing stress attaching itself to your brain.

You feel crazy.

Are you crazy?

Are you just sleep deprived enough to —

Something latches onto your arm and pulls you roughly to the right. You fumble into something solid, diving headfirst until your back collides with a cooled stone wall.

A warm palm presses to your mouth to keep you from speaking.

Yet the protest would’ve died the second you saw that mop of black hair anywhere.

Levi Ackerman stands before you, pinning a hand against the wall parallel to your head while the other keeps a rough hold on your mouth. His head is bowed, the dark fringe covering half of his face, with lips parted. 

The cloak is gone. The cravat is slightly out of place.

Then his chin lifts to meet your wide eyes in the dark.

Within an instant your pain, your anguish, your hatred, melts. For what feels like forever you both stare at each other in this comforting darkness, waiting for something to come next.

So he speaks, barely above a whisper and sharp like a knife’s edge:

“How?”

You tremble under his touch, eyes welling with the tears you didn’t shed earlier. The bags under Levi’s eyes twitch, and gently, slowly, he removes his hand from your mouth.

“I promised,” you whisper back, and his eyes widen to match yours.

Abruptly his hand drops from the wall to grab yours and harshly tugs you towards a door right across the hall. It’s a vacant office, pitch-black without candles or torches.

“In here,” he demands, pulling you with him.

He swings you away from him to press the door closed, cautious not to make noise. It slowly clicks into place, and he locks the two of you away from the outside world.

Just the two of you.

You can’t help yourself: you rush across the room towards to be near him, to hold him, to feel —

His hands, lightning fast, grapple your wrists and keep you from ever entering his orbit. Your feet spin from his pull, positioning you between him and the door.

You jerk to a halt, deterred by the way his eyes gradually narrow to mere slits.

(Did you do something wrong?)

“Don’t,” he orders under his breath.

“Le—”

“Answer my question first,” he tells you like you’re the enemy. Everything in your stomach drops through the floor. The necklace under your uniform button-down burns. “How?”

A beat passes as you contain your emotions. “...how what?”

“How did you get here?”

You run your tongue against the seam of your lips, deciding what you should start with. A million questions run through your mind.

Did Erwin capture you the same way he captured me? Where is Isabel? Is Furlan safe? Did you willingly join the Scouts?

Did you make a deal with the devil, too?

“Commander Erwin,” you tell him.

His expression flickers with an indiscernible emotion. "Erwin?”

“I had no choice,” you continue. “I was ambushed by the Scouts two days ago. It was either handing myself over to the Military Police or joining the Survey Corps under him.”

The grip on your wrists tighten in a pinch. “Ambushed in what way? Did they hurt you?”

“No.” You shake your head, but he shifts his weight. “I mean, a little, but it—”

“Who?” he interrupts in a murmur. “Who hurt you?”

You search his eyes for the right answer to give, uncertain if he’ll burst from the room to blow your cover at the truth.

“Some asshole named Miche, but I’m fine.” His nostrils flare, eyes darting to the door with deadly precision, but you jerk your wrists in his hands to bring his attention back to you. “Hey. I mean it, I’m fine. Besides, he’s none of my concern. Not when Erwin’s here.”

Reluctantly, Levi returns his attention to you. He hesitates with ebbing anger. “...what the hell does that mean?”

“I said yes to the Survey Corps to take Erwin out,” you tell Levi, which causes him to sharply lift his chin with apprehension. “I didn’t give a shit what happened to me. They made it sound like… like you weren’t alive anymore. They never told me you joined, too.” You swallow to coat your throat. “Did they do anything to you?”

The abrupt blink to stare at the door behind you once again is your answer: yes.

“What about everyone else?” he cryptically asks, ignoring your question.

You shake your head, deflating. “Gone. We managed to survive for almost two months. When the MP pressure got out of hand, someone turned and ratted me out. But most of them made it to safe spaces undetected, I promise.”

He doesn’t let go of your wrists, but he lessens the intensity of his grip. When you lean in closer to whisper, he leans back — determined to keep this distance intact, crushing your heart.

He watches you like an object to solve, an obstacle to overcome.

Whatever love and adoration you were met with two months ago has vanished.

“We can kill them,” you say, earning his attention once more. “All of them. I don’t care.”

Levi remains silent, immobile. Your arms go limp in the hold he keeps.

“Whatever they did to you? Whatever they did to Isa and Furlan—”

“Stop.”

“—I’ll burn every last Scout to the ground—”

“James.” He nearly barks your name to get your attention. Levi hangs his head, dropping his chin to his chest. “Just… stop. Please.”

A mere whisper of a plea.

The soft defeat in his voice is terrifying. It isn't like the Levi you remember at all. Nonetheless, you listen. You stop.

Silence envelops the room.

So this is what it meant for the two of you to come to the surface.

You managed to escape the life you desperately wanted to leave behind, but at what cost?

Even now, you both hide in the dark.

(Was living in the sun everything you had ever hoped for?)

“...what happened during the heist, Levi?”

You hate how your voice cracks between the syllables of his name. He continues to bow his head, though the sound of his rushed breath betrays his composure.

“Where’s Isabel and Furlan? Where—”

“They’re gone.”

Everything feels freezing and boiling all at the same time.

His defeated tone echoes through your mind. You wait for him to lift his head, to tell you that they’ve traveled or escaped.

He doesn’t.

You know.

You know exactly what Levi’s saying, but denial hits you like a ton of bricks.

Isabel’s cheeky, bright smile. Furlan’s all-too-cocky smirk. The sight of them in front of the blazing sun flashes through your mind until they evaporate into the light. 

Death is an old friend. She’s sat at your table in Roxy’s more times than you can say. Except this feeling, this dread, this sorrow cuts deep with an iron-hot knife and slices down your torso with little remorse.

Levi refuses to look you in the eye. You can almost feel it against your forearm: the tremble of his own hand as he holds onto you for dear life.

“...when?” you ask, but you barely hear your own voice.

A pause passes.

Levi lets go of your wrists, trailing his fingers down your forearms.

“Two weeks ago.”

Tears cling to your eyes but never fall. “How?”

“Titans,” he says, words dripping with guilt. “We thought we could handle them.”

“And you saw…?”

He swallows, coating his throat. “Yeah, I saw.”

That’s all he needs to say.

Woozy in your own stance, you fall back against the door and wait — for the sob, the wail, that’s right at the base of your throat, yet you make no noise.

You relent.

Slowly you feel your legs give out, from your calves to your knees, until you’re sat on the floor. Instinctively you reach for your necklace, your last line of stability, and hold the pendant between your thumb and index finger.

Blinking hard, you squeeze your eyes together in the hopes that the world will become clearer when you open them.

It’s still dark.

You can barely make out anything besides the silhouette of Levi Ackerman.

“So this is the surface,” you whisper to yourself. “This is what we always wanted.”

Leather creaks above you until that very silhouette drops to its knees. You feel it before you see it — the reach for his fingers to find yours. They’re not as strong in conviction as they once were, as if mending from being broken.

Then he speaks, and you almost miss his words completely.

“Don’t do it.”

When you lift your chin, the tears clouding your vision finally fall and warm your cheeks. Levi stares back at you, struggling between two worlds: the one he’s always known, and the one he’s had to make with you.

Just as you endured the last two months.

“Do what?” you ask despite yourself.

“Go after him,” Levi clarifies under his breath. “Any of them.”

Your brows furrow. “But they let Isabel and Furlan die.”

“I let Isabel and Furlan die,” he argues, as if he wishes he were dead right then and there. A bone-chilling confession, a woeful repentance at your altar, as if you can grant him forgiveness he cannot find within himself. When you open your mouth to ask, he continues. “Two weeks ago they put us on a mission. I went off on my own thinking I could kill Erwin myself. I thought I could handle it. I thought if I could sneak up on him, then I could get the documents we needed to escape — then I could go back to the Underground and get you out of there, too. Assassinating the commander was my only chance to save us. Sounds like a load of fairytale bullshit out loud.”

He doesn’t sound like himself.

What was once sure and earnest comes out fractured and uncertain. Like one false move, one gentle touch, and you’ll disappear like stardust in the night.

“But once I realized titans were flanking us from every side, it was no use,” he continues, forcing his voice to stay steady. “Titans got the upper hand and massacred everyone in sight. By the time I came back, you couldn’t tell where one body started and the other ended.”

“Levi—”

“So I’m not watching you die, too.”

His black hair shakes in the moonlight. Sorrow seeps into every syllable.

“I couldn’t save Isabel. I couldn’t save Furlan.” You can see just how much his jaw clenches, threatening to break his teeth in half. “I hoped they wouldn’t find you, but Erwin’s not fucking stupid. He needed a fighter."

We need a fighter. A softer, youthful version of Levi's voice from yesterday whispers in the still air.

Both times it was said to save you.

This time, however, it feels less like salvation and more like a certified death sentence.

"And this selfishness has already bit me in the ass, I know, but I can't—" He chokes on his words, frantic to hold onto his wits. He fails. His next words hitch on a crack in his voice. "If you die, I won’t—”

Propelled by grief, you scramble from the floorboards and rise to your knees, encircling your arms around his body to pull him against you.

His entire body goes rigid, impossibly tight. Too afraid to fight back. Too afraid to let go. You embrace his fear, absorb it, consume it, desperate to show him he's no longer alone.

That you're here to the bitter end, whatever that may look like for the two of you; a blaze of glory or a soft exhale into sleep.

Cradling the back of his head with the palm of your hand, your cheek presses to his cheek.

Warmth.

A sign of life.

I'm here. I'm alive.

He smells just as you remember.

He feels just as you remember.

“I won’t,” you vow against his ear. “I won’t go after them. I'll leave Erwin alone. I won’t die on you.”

Your words deflate his entire being.

Finally, finally, his arms wrap around you and crush your torso against his. In this dark, locked room, he can bury his nose into your skin and breathe — and it’s the slowest, shakiest breath you’ve ever heard.

“Promise,” he chokes. "Promise me."

You nod, face contorting in pain from the hurt in your heart. “I promise you, Levi. I swear it.”

He doesn’t reply.

For what feels like hours you both sit in silence, mourning — remembering — all that you’ve lost to get here. On the floor, in the dark, he holds you close while no one else can see. You embrace him with all your might.

(Until the bitter end — you can promise you'll live, that you'll be by his side, right until the last possible moment.)

Eventually he speaks quietly against your cheek. His words are languid again, smooth like hot tea.

“I saw your pack in my old room.”

Your heart flutters as you pull your head from his, staring him in the eye. Your vision has adjusted by now, focusing solely on his pale face.

“My what?”

“Pack,” he repeats. “They stuck you in our old room — Furlan and Isabel used to be in there, too.”

The bunk beds. A mixture of sadness and relief swirls in your gut.

"And where are you?"

"Erwin moved me into my own room. Said a captain should get their own space," his eyes flicker to yours. "It's just across from you."

You sit up straighter. "So you're... near me?"

Levi nods. “As if I’d be letting you out of my damn sight anyway. I spent the entire day trying to come up with a fucking excuse."

"For what, the logistics of me sneaking into your room when no one's watching?" you tease, but the humor is exhausted on your tongue.

"No one's ever caught you before," he replies with a wit that's entirely Levi. It almost makes you smile.

He runs a hand along your waistline, then raises his palm to lightly press the pad of his thumb against your lower lip.

“Erwin’s aware of our business connection, but I don’t think he knows…”

He trails off, seemingly memorized by the way your lip moves under the guidance, the pull, of his thumb.

A feeling stirs in your belly, one that has been dormant for weeks.

“...but you don’t think he knows beyond that,” you finish softly, bringing him back to reality. His gray eyes meet yours, half-lidded and exhausted. He nods once. “So we keep our past a secret.”

“Just us,” he agrees.

“For as long as we can,” you finish.

His thumb drops from your lip to your chin. Your gaze drops from his eyes to his lips.

Waiting.

"They opened the wine in the mess hall," you add in a murmur.

"Means those shitheads plan to pull an all-nighter," he murmurs back. "They have a thing for commiserating."

"So we have time." A beat passes. "And I'm just across the hall."

"My room's desolate," Levi warns.

"I don't give a fuck," you reply, refusing to waste another second.

Your hand seeks the nape of his neck.

His palms cradle the sides of your face.

And after what feels like an eternity, your lips crash.

.

author's note: WE GOT A REUNION AYE-YOOOOOO. So happy that these two very sad idiots found each other again. Sorry for the pain. We only have about 3 more chapters of flashbacks to go, and then we will be returning to the present.

Thank you so much for you patience and wonderful comments and reblogs and eeeeverything. Seriously. I am so very grateful for your support. A reminder that I am going to switch to a bi-weekly Friday update - I will see you for Chapter 18!

tag list: @lazylizzy3 @notgoodforlife @sad-darksoul @dailydoseof-love @maliakealoha @nube55 @kateastrophies @blinkingsuns @gomigami @voidszoro @tanyeonn @chishiyasan @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @nomi98 @urfavcelestialangel @milkersonmac @blossomedfloweroflove @carries-blenders-and-stuff @hurtcomfortwhore @ahxiaoshi @littlerequiem

#levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot fanfic #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x f!reader #levi x you #levi x reader #aot fic #snk fic #snk fanfic #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfic #attack on titan #levi ackerman #shingeki no kyojin fic #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #shingeki no kyoujin #wip series #amywritesthings #fic: silver underground #silver underground

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Philza's PoV of the fic where he goes to Cellbit for Help after an Ender Kidnapping. I was going to add another scene where they got some medicine in him, but... It felt good to end it in the same place, and it's already a few hundred words longer. So just know that Mike will drop around a dose or two of meds in like 20 minutes (Mike, not Pac, because Pac is both making more and would get distracted by mistake) and have a couple of days worth ready in a few hours. It will help. Though, Philza is probably staying on Cellbit's sofa until someone braves carrying him to a bed, and he's staying at Cellbit's for a good while. Cellbit struggles with more people in his house but would also rather keep Philza where he can check on him, after everything. And, well, it's going to take him a /while/ to recover, and he's not going to be willing to warp for longer still.

AO3 here

TW: sickness, dissociation, major trauma, major injuries, panic attacks, brain fuckery, all that

Philza is cold. His soul is cold, and his body is cold, and the air of the winter night is freezing all around him. He doesn’t… He doesn’t quite remember how he got here - his feet hurt, and he’s freezing, and he remembers…

A falling birdcage.

A broken door.

A voice screaming in fury as he ran and ran and ran and-

And he should keep running.

He cannot hear the voice any more, but here is… Different. The sky is dark but not black - not black, and with eyes now tainted he can see the deep blue surrounding the stars for what it is, and not what it was. Those stars, like pinpricks, and soft clouds…

The moon is bright.

He can be seen.

With the sudden realisation, he ducks into the cover of a tree. A tree which he… He knows these trees are familiar, but his mind is made of weeping obsidian and his body is trembling enough as it is.

He cannot afford to sob, he knows he cannot afford to sob, even as the trees leer and the shadows lean down and something is coming someone is coming he needs to run run run hide never stop running and get away away away!!!

But he can’t, he knows he can’t - with every further step he feels himself grow weaker, darkness not from the peaceful overworld night clawing into his eyes.

The trees are red, the trees are red, and…

And he catches a though, a thought that sounds like safety.

On broken feet he runs, the trail of blood hidden by the rotting leaves on the floor. A hunter could easily pick it up, but the /thing/ that chases Philza cares not for it’s prey. Hidden tracks or not, HE always, always comes.

And there, above the treeline - a pointed red tower-roof, pointing at the moon. The walls are black, it’s sisters reach up with it, and for the first time in a long time Philza feels…

He feels anything other than anger, pain or despair.

He runs, as best he can, stumbling and tripping and scraping his hands and his knees each time abused feet give way. He can feel how they bleed, how the wounds tear with every step, but he can’t call for help - he has no way to call anyone, to warn anyone, or even to get away.

The tower is not home, and he doesn’t remember why, but Philza knows that the tower means safety.

And so, desperate, frozen, scared, he scrambles on.

---

The tower leads to a building, and the building is entered by a door. The door is on a bridge, though, and Philza… He has to climb the side.

HIs feet slip on the blood they leave, the blackstone work too smooth. He feels himself scrape the skin from his toes, but what is a little more pain, a little more blood? His mind is clouded and scared and all he can think of is HIM finding him, and the potential safety of the castle.

By the time he makes it onto the bridge, Philza can barely stand. It’s easy to ignore the pain, when pain is all he knows for sure, but it’s hard hard hard to keep his limbs in place. Breathing is hard and blood pools around him and Philza-

Philza doesn’t remember many things right now, but he knows he made a promise, and he knows he refuses to die.

On his hands and knees he drags himself to the door; with everything left in him he pulls himself up, leaning his weight against the wall. His hands barely respond as he reaches up, pulling the cord to let the master of his place know of his presence.

How Philza knows that’s what to do, he is not sure. Perhaps it is simply ingrained?

Either way he doesn’t think he can do anything else - can move anything else. There’s a noise and Philza glances over his shoulder, terror bubbling in his throat but having nowhere to go. It’s not HIM, though, it’s not HIM. It was from inside the castle, inside and Philza…

A man opens the door.

Philza knows him, but with void-touched eyes it’s hard to understand.

He doesn’t have a name, but he has a face.

He remembers… Bloodshed, and fury, a murder with a knife, an obsessive hunter of flesh.

He remembers… Puzzles and late nights and photographs and kindness and trust-faith-hope.

He looks at this man and he knows - this is a man who could kill me, but he is not going to; this is a man who wants the best for the islanders (who?), and that is also me; this is a man who will do anything to protect people, even when it tears him apart again.

“Philza?” the trustworthy murderer asks, when he gathers himself. “We missed you; where’ve you been?”

And Philza… Philza cannot answer.

So he gathers his strength, and raises his head, and meets the man’s eyes. Slowly, slowly, he shakes his head, trying to let him know that will never work.

The act of moving his head upsets his already precarious balance. Philza stumbles. His feet send a burst of agony. He sways to the other side, and fails to catch himself again.

He hears a soft word - cursing - but an arm reaches out, and takes his arm.

Touch.

Fear.

The last time he was touched, the last time Philza was touched…

But it is concern that touches him, not hate.

Philza all but throws himself along the touch, knowing he cannot possibly stay under his own weight much longer.

He is caught, and held up, and it’s hard to breathe and harder to think and pain agonising pain shoots through his legs, but… But this place is a place that means safety, and it is going to be okay.

“Do you have a warpstone?” he is asked. “We should probably get you to the infirmary.”

Warpstone?

Philza thinks of purple, and being dissolved, and being thrown through the void in a little hop-skip-jump and that is where HE is and he does not want to go back - not for this, not ever, not ever again.

He tears out of the touch, does his best to find his feet. He’ll manage, he can manage, just don’t make him, don’t make him - /please!/

The wall touches Philza’s back; there is nowhere to run, and the tension remains in him.

“Okay,” the man breathes out. “Okay. My drawing room then. I have the first aid kit Mike made for Richas somewhere.”

Drawing room is… Inside the castle, and inside means no being thrown to the void. The man offers Philza a hand, and Philza takes it, stumbling his way against him again.

There’s no way to save his feet, not from the walking once again. So he zones out the pain, permitting it to get lost in the haze. Here isn’t safe, not from HIM, but it is… Philza looks on these walls, and know he has never come here often, but he knows they belong to someone he trusts.

With his mind like this… All he can pray for us that the man before him - in cotton pyjamas and still with a wicked knife on his belt - is as trustworthy as his scatteredness believes him to be. Philza… he’s pretty sure he knows how Void-Sickness works, he’s pretty sure it makes you forget, makes you see things, but he doesn’t think it changes your opinions.

Please, please, let it not change his opinions. Please let this man and this castle be as trustworthy as his heart believes them to be.

It does seem that way, at least for now; Philza can barely see anymore as the man takes his arm, and pulls it over his shoulders. Philza does his best to walk, but his legs are like burning ice. He remembers pain, he remembers his feet being cut open, large slices to prevent him running, a slice across each ankle to try sever his tendons.

It failed.

Philza is a lot of things, and he cannot remember most of them, but he is very sure that he is very good at running.

Or was, not any more. His feet drag both on stone then on carpet, skin catching and tearing and hurting as it does. He wants to scream, instead tries to whimper, and finds is voice barely makes a noise at all.

He slips his face into the man helping him’s neck and begs himself to remember, to remember, just to remember…

By the time he is sat down on a long sofa, Philza still does not remember. There is no regard for the filth and the blood he smears across the black fabric, and little for the way he collapses into the soft. Time skips a few beats, and then his hands are wrapped around a glass of water.

Philza stares at it, thinks of thread in his mouth, and the impossibility of what he is being asked to do.

He did not realise how much his hands were hurting, until the cruel-kind man bent them into another shape.

There’s words that Philza does not understand, and then the man is gone, and alone… Alone it is so much harder to keep out the ache. There’s nobody before him, the room is unfamiliar, he can’t see behind him-

With as much care as tortured limbs can manage, Philza puts the glass down.

He’s panicking - he’s safe now, it’s going to be okay. 

He’s not safe. Even if he were sane he’d know he’s not safe; HE is looking for him, HE will find him, HE-

Philza pulls his hands away from the glass, can feel the shaking pick up, can feel his breath catch as he does. The trustworthy murderer is gone, has left him alone, and Philza is so, so very scared.

His eyes glance about as he shifts and he turns, peering through distorted eyes at every corner he can. Shadows seem to grow, to stretch and morph - familiar, thin, deadly hands reaching out, reaching for him, seeking to steal him, to take him back, to bind him once again in pain and steel, a wild bird left to languish in a cage as a prized possession until it languishes away.

And then you stuff its corpse.

Philza’s eyes catch on the bookshelf in the corner. It’s near a hole in the wall - bad - but it’s high, and it’s hidden, and from there he can see everything.

He doesn’t think of anything except thin hands and purple laughter and the agony of pain as he abandons the soft-and-warm for the high-and-safe.

His feet slip as he scrambles up the shelves, barely noticing even as he twists his ankle in his panic. There’s no thoughts, his empty except for the desperation to get up higher and higher and as high as he can. Behind him his wings shudder, desperately trying to lift him but too exhausted to manage. Foot after foot he pulls himself up, until he too is in the dark.

But this dark is not cold like the hands.

This dark is warm and safe, even if it burns his cold, cold skin.

He peers out of the shadows, watching and watching. The shadows still oozes and twist and reach in a way shadows shouldn’t. Despite the trail of blood they fail to reach them and Philza… he is not sure if they are real or not.

Not until a figure steps in. Philza’s brain panics as the man walks through a shadow. There is no ill effect, but the fear of someone loves walking into the shadowy claws-

“Philza?”

And it’s not the man’s voice Philza hears, not in his panic. The voice echoes and looms and teases, something ancient and powerful and /terrifying/. He looks and looks and looks and where is an escape?!

There is something else said but Philza does not see it; he only has eyes for the hole in the wall, the hole through which somehow no more cold comes. He ignores the words to throw himself from the bookshelf - towards the hole. His wings slow his fall, but he cannot fly - why can’t he fly?! What did HE do?! - so he /throws/ himself towards the hole.

The voice is behind him, now, but he cannot look. Please, dear Rose, please-

The hole is not a hole.

Philza slams into something hard but invisible. In his panic, in his pain, in his sickness he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand anything as a hand touches his shoulder.

Philza tries to scream and only chokes, even that muffled and quiet with his voice box strained and his lips sealed shut.

The hand on his shoulder is tugging him away.

Philza gives up, and he goes.

Of course he cannot rn, of course he cannot run… HE would never let him run, not for anything other than a game of cat and mouse. 

And HE is too powerful for mistakes.

Even as he’s walked back to the sofa, Philza keeps glancing to the hole - to the alluring promise of freedom, and one he will never get to see again.

His eggs, his chicks, his children - he’s never going to see them again.

But the voice that asks “better?” is too gentle when it speaks, too gentle to be HIM. Too exhausted, too - HE would never let HIMself sound so weak.

And so… Philza is brave even as he trembles, and looks up, and traces from brown eyes to a tissue in the man’s hand.

Philza… Is not quite sure what to do with it.

He stares for long seconds before he feels warmth drip from his nose to his lip and…

Oh…

He takes the tissue, and holds it beneath his nose. The smile the man gives him as he kneels is pained, relieved, true.

Philza tries to smile back, only to taste blood on his teeth.

The man is as gentle as the cushions are soft as he takes one of Philza’s feet, but there is no way to not hurt him. It hurts, but Philza can see the bad being taken from his feet and tossed aside and so…

It was going to hurt anyway. No matter what happens here, Philza hurts.

Might as well let a friend take it away.

The two remain in silence as Philza’s exhausted friend takes away the bad. His eyes remain fixed on Philza’s foot, and Philza’s on a strip of white hair.

He wants to touch it.

He is too tired, now, with the peace of someone his heart trusts, to even move his fingers to try.

Vulnerable and weak he slumps in the cushions, cradled by black velvet. He’s still so cold, but he can feel warmth from the nearby fire, and even with the spikes of pain it’s easy to let himself melt away.

It should be scary, how easy it is to fade away despite the pain.

It isn’t, though. It’s just…

He shouldn’t be here, letting himself drift, letting someone take care of him - he needs to run and run and run and never stop, less HE catches him and destroys him.

Destroys everyone and everything he loves.

But he is.

And then, all of a sudden, wet and cold and stinging.

Philza startles, and yelps - or something close to it, and looks down.

His foot is… In a bucket?

And Cellbit (oh, so that’s the man’s name, where did he find that?) looks… apologetic?

Philza slumps back into the cushions, doing his best to indicate that the man should continue on. He tries very hard to pay a little more attention now, not wanting the surprise again.

It is hard, though; ever he pays attention to nothing, or he pays attention to warping shadows and clawing void and the dark film over his vision, all things that are not really things at all.

And then the other foot goes into the water, and Philza thinks that is it, except that Cellbit does not stop there. Instead he moves to other wounds, cleaning and stitching and bandaging, frowning at the purple smeared across Philza’s skin.

Frowning more as he rests a hand on his chest, and Philza struggles to move it with his breaths.

But that’s fine - Philza’s dizzy, but he’s sick, so it’s fine. He just allows Cellbit to work until -

Until something tears in his hand, and the sudden jolt of pain has Philza /scream/.

The sound barely works, but he can taste the blood-blood-blood where his lips strained too hard against the thread. He wants to - needs to - spit it out, but he can’t- he can’t! All he can do is swallow, swallow and shudder and pray the pain goes away.

It’s then that Cellbit freezes, and looks to him with terrified eyes.

“Philza?” Cellbit asks - whispers. “Philza, can you open your mouth for me?”

And Philza wants to cry as he shakes his head.

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

That’s not… How does he answer…?

Philza focuses on Cellbit’s face, tries to drain himself of terror, and holds up a single finger.

Option one.

And Cellbit nods, he nods and he waits, and he breathes more than he asks “can I touch your lips?”

Philza… Does not know how he wants that question answered.

He does not know a lot of things.

But he waits, and he watches, and does not flinch as a warm hand presses to frozen lips, slowly parting them.

“I…” And Philza barely remembers Cellbit beyond knowing he is a man with a lot of love, and a lot of anger, and who kills more easily than he saves no matter how desperately he wants to do the second. But… But he does know that Cellbit does not /hesitate/.

The hands pull away, as though Philza’s frozen face burnt him, “I don’t think I can help without hurting you.”

That’s the worry?

Philza gestures with his hands, focused on Cellbit’s eyes where the darkness of The End cannot reach; ‘am I not already in pain?’ he tries to ask, tries to communicate, tries to beg.

Cellbit is scared, he is terrified, and Philza… Philza should go, if he is causing that sort of reaction in his friends.

“I’m going to get you some pyjamas,” Cellbit says. “Will you be alright?”

Cellbit is fleeing.

Philza… he got lost in the comfort, has stayed too long. He is bandaged now, yes? He should keep on running, should flee this place until HE comes for Cellbit too.

He cannot let HIM have Cellbit. Not one of his friends, and not any of them.

Cellbit goes, and Philza…

His feet still hurt, but Philza knows how to run in even the worst of circumstances. He waits for the door to close and stumbles to his feet. Every movement is like agony, like treacle, but he has to go, has to leave, has to run - no matter what happens, he cannot let HIM touch his trusted friend.

This place is a place of safety, but not for him.

The pain pulls him back into a haze, stumbling his way through the black castle. He’s not sure… Not sure where to go.

The bridge is there.

He does not think he can climb down, but… The fall from the break to the water will not kill him, right?

And even if it does, is that not better than HIM finding him again?

The shadows goad him onwards, twisting deep purple at their seams. Philza ignores them, using the lip at the edge of the bridge to guide his steps.

He is almost, almost there when a hand grabs his arm and Philza-

Philza has been grabbed before; he twists and he fights and uses every last morsel left in his body to scream. HE will not take him, HE will not have him, HE will not put him back in the cage!!!

He screams and he snarls and he forces his jaw to open to do so. He doesn’t care for the blood in his mouth, how it bubbles between the threads and drips onto his lips. He doesn’t care how his wounds strain, how everything hurts and stabs and stings - if HE takes him it will not matter, if HE has him it is the end anyway and he would rather DIE that let HIM have him again!!!

So he fights, and he scream, and he uses every bit of adrenaline as he tries to save himself! He will not fall here, he will not go back, you cannot make him go back!

“Stop that! You’re making it worse!”

And just like that all of Philza’s energy vanishes, leaving him a statue in the night on a ruined bridge.

That… That is not the voice of HIM, but the voice of a friend

“Just…” there’s a sob in his friends voice and Philza wants - needs - to comfort it. “Come back inside? Please?”

But if Philza does that…

He wants to cup Cellbit’s cheeks, to tell him, to explain, but his hands are mostly bandage and his lips are sealed and his throat is dry.

So he shakes his head.

“Philza.”

Philza does not want to be the cause of the pain spreading across Cellbit’s face, of the shadows creeping in. But a friend in pain is a living friend, and if Philza stays he’ll be a dead one, and Philza-

“Why are you running?”

Philza stops for a second, not having even realised he had started running again.

But he does… Owe Cellbit an explanation.

But how…

He doesn’t have time, but still he gestures to his eyes - where he knows the Taint must have taken root, if only for all the times HE complimented them of late. He gestures to the shadows, creeping closer and leering, and-

And this is too long, he looks, to check, and he can see nothing but darkness behind him. The oily film is too thick to see into that darkness.

“You’re being chased?”

Exactly! Philza nods, once and again, driving home the point. He gestures to the darkness, tries to show Cellbit the danger, before he turns and stumbles further on.

A couple of steps - not enough to find a fast pace, not injured as he is - but then…

There is a rose, in the darkness, a small rose bush at the side of the road.

Has it always been there, or did Rose…?

Cellbit is cautious as he approaches the bush, but he still picks a flower and hands it to Philza. Philza stares at it, not sure… Not sure…

“Missa mentioned they’re… protection charms for you?”

Missa…?

Missa!

His eyes snap to Cellbit - begging, begging, begging. Is Missa safe? Is Missa okay? Chayanne and Tallulah? Their eggs were asleep when HE invaded the sanctuary, but Missa wasn’t, Missa had been right there and oh fuck if HE took Missa as well-

“He’s safe!” Cellbit scrambles to promise. “Foolish is hosting a sleepover for the eggs tonight - he took Chayanne and Tallulah.”

Safe?

His family are safe?

HE did not touch his people? Only him.

“He showed me the rose garden, though the flowers are dead,” Philza is not surprised by Cellbit’s words, though he winds the rose between his fingers. “And the… hole? Portal? Void-patch?”

What does Cellbit…

Oh.

HE must have ripped out part of this world, too…

Philza… is not sure what it counts as. He wriggles his hand, and decides Void is the closest - like before he raises fingers to indicate the option.

“It was very small, very precise. Clearly whatever took you only wants you - it hasn’t taken anyone else, either; even if you stay in my house, it’s unlikely it will take me.”

Philza…

HE would take Missa first, surely? Not Cellbit?

And he did not take Missa.

And in his fingers is a rose…

“So, please, come back inside?”

Philza looks back to the rose, and wonders what it means - if it means anything at all.

And then he looks up, and Cellbit is offering him a hand.

And Philza is tired, and he is weak, and the pain is a constant throb against his skull even as his mind drifts from place to place and sees things which only might or might not be there.

And so he breaks.

He takes the hand, and tucks himself close to Cellbit’s side, and prays he has not just damned them both.

---

Soon enough they are inside. Philza is back on the black velvet sofa, and Cellbit is once more knelt before him. This time he does not only wash his feet, but dries and bandages them too. Philza clings to the rose then, and also when he is helped to stand.

Staying there is agonising, now that he has given in. It’s all he can do to cling to a chance and not cry as Cellbit helps him out of one set of clothes, and a long, black, silk nightshirt. It comes down to Philza’s knees, or close enough, and hangs awkwardly on his shoulders.

By the time he is allowed to sit, Philza’s lungs are desperate and his vision narrowed to a pinprick.

He all but collapses into the sofa, curling around the flower and remembering how to breathe.

Cellbit gives him a moment, just checking on his other wounds. Philza finds his breath - it is so much harder, without his mouth - and tries to relax himself once again.

“They’re probably asleep,” Cellbit starts, once Philza is relaxed. “But do you want me to text Missa? So he can bring Chayanne and Tallulah in the morning?”

Philza wants his family.

Philza wants his family to be /safe/.

He… cannot answer that.

“I can put some wards down,” Cellbit offers. “And ask them to come with Roier? He’ll look after them.”

Wards will do nothing, not even Rose’s sanctuary could.

But… there’s a rose in his fingers, and he wants his family. He needs…

Hesitant, he nods - he isn’t sure, but Cellbit…

He can trust Cellbit. He knows he loves his family, and that he can trust Cellbit, and he’s not quite sure who Roier is but if Cellbit says he will protect them then Philza chooses to believe that he can.

Philza cannot work out if Cellbit types quickly or slowly. He is handed the communicator to check the message, but does not really care - his own is long gone, and he has one chance, one hope of…

His fingers are ruined, but he still has to warn Missa. Make sure… Make sure he knows.

‘Did HE hurt you?’ Philza types. ‘Be safe - HE still wants me.’

It takes minutes to type it; Philza wants to say more, but his hands barely function and there’s one more thing he needs to say.

Not to Missa, but to Cellbit.

He isn’t sure… There’s so many things, and his hands are failing, so…

He chooses the most important one, the thing he’s watched Cellbit /hesitate/ over.

‘Cut it’.

Philza refuses to think on how long it takes to type, or how much it hurts, or the blood now once again seeping into the bandages over his finger pads.

“Cut what?” Cellbit asks.

There is no way he doesn’t know - Philza does his best to ignore the shadows and to glare instead.

“I don’t… Think I can do this.”

And Philza does not care if Cellbit does not /think/ he can, because Philza /knows/ that Cellbit can. Philza grabs the hand with the knife that has killed so many people, and tries to pull it from his grasp.

If Cellbit will not help him, then he will take the knife and carve the stitches out himself!

“Fine!” Cellbit looks terrified as he yells. “God, I’ll try. But just enough to drink something, okay? I don’t trust myself.”

‘I trust you’ Philza wants to shout, wants to scream to the heavens. The rivers run red with blood Cellbit has spilt and yet Philza knows his friend, and he trusts him - he trusts him so much.

He wants to scream it, to declare it, to be able to speak!

But… But Cellbit looks so pale, so pale the shadows cannot touch his face, and Philza…

He cannot do that to him.

So he will accept enough to drink, and he will prove to Cellbit that everything will be okay.

Cellbit pulls out a smaller knife, and bends down to a level. He slips it between Philza’s lips. It hurts where the blade presses into the threads, bending them and forcing his gum along too. They do break, though - the threads break with the knife, and it’s not his whole mouth, but Philza can at least pull air through it again.

And then Cellbit pulls away, not looking reassured but terrified. Philza has no idea why - a tissue is pressed to his lip, probably for where some skin tore against a thread.

“Hold this, just let me get you a straw.”

Philza does as he is told, keeping the tissue in place as his eyes trail after Cellbit.

Where did he go?

Why did he leave so fast?

…

He’s gone for a long time.

Philza drifts, and he closes his eyes, and when he opens them again another rose lays across his lap.

Rose?

Is she… trying to ask forgiveness? To say he’s safe? To comfort him?

He is not sure, but he picks it up anyway. He takes the two roses and starts trying to twist them together. It is awkward at the best of times, and worse with injured hands, but… He’s getting there.

It’s good enough that they will not separate even if he puts them down when Cellbit returns and  - oh - warm soup! That will be what took so long! Soup, and warm, and with the possibility of eating - even just drinking - right there, Philza’s body slams back into his mind. Everything hurts, his stomach is twisted, his lips are cracked and bleeding and his eyes are so so dry.

And he is cold, but the soup is steaming, and he /needs/!

But it is the water that is given first. Philza behaves, and drinks it, and as he drinks it finds his body demanding more and more and faster and faster until the glass is gone. Still it screams for more, desperate, desperate, dehydrated and starving-

Cellbit offers him the tray - juice or soup.

Both are liquid.

Soup is warm.

He tries to grab the soup.

But Cellbit puts the tray down, then picks it up himself - he tests it before putting a straw in the soup, and sitting down on the sofa beside Philza. Carefully and between them he drinks what he can - his body isn’t sure if it wants to throw up or demand he eat more, and the point where nausea starts to win he refuses to keep going.

He wants more, he wants more, he craves it and is desperate for the sustenance and the warmth.

But his stomach hurts already, and he knows he cannot afford to loose anything else.

Cellbit puts it back on the try and stands.

“Sleep here,” he says. “I’ll go grab some blankets.”

This time when he leaves, Philza does not run. Instead he flops into soft velvet, letting it cradle abused skin. The darkness wins, but it wins somewhere safe, and with a rose in Philza’s hand. He stirs a little when he is moved - a pillow for his head, five or six blankets wrapped around freezing skin - but only enough to recognise Cellbit, and to know that he is for a moment safe.

---

Philza is woken by loud swearing. Swearing is, however, something that HE neither does nor permits, and so it’s a comfort, really. He curls back towards sleep, finally almost warm and the pain intense but at least consistent so long as he does not move. It’s bright now, the shadows smaller, and he does not want to exist. He just… wants to drift a while longer, to not have to surface to a world which hurts and he is a threat to those he loves.

But he cannot doze forever, or even very long at all. He watches a man kiss Cellbit, and the two finally notice him.

“Morning,” Cellbit says.

“Hey Philza,” the other man greets. “Cellbo says you got something stuck in your mouth?”

Philza’s aware enough to recognise a sex joke - he finds his hand, and protects the rose, and flips the man off. Cellbit might like him, but he woke Philza up, and woke him up to kissing.

“Is it okay if Roier takes the stitches out?” Cellbit asks - gentle, soft, worried.

The man is Roier, Cellbit is being gentle, and something is not right in the world.

Philza /looks/ at him. Why the gentle? Cellbit is not gentle, he is hard corners and sharp edges, splintered and torn and so, so loved.

But Philza still nods, as he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to know who Roier is, and Cellbit would mercilessly slaughter anyone who hurt him. Cellbit trusts this Roier, and Philza trusts Cellbit, so… He will give Roier a chance.

Roier uses tiny embroidery scissors, not a knife, to cut away at the threads inside Philza’s mouth. As each one is cut through Philza’s face feels a little more free. He talks as he works, full of gossip and names that Philza isn’t sure he knows how to remember right now, but his heart knows are important to him all the same.

The hands by his face, though… He doesn’t like that.

He affixes his eyes on the hole-that-is-not-a-hole, and reminds himself to breathe.

The threads are cut, but still there. Cellbit helps Philza with a glass of water, before stage two begins.

It hurts a lot more, pulling out the threads. In places they have almost fused with his lips, scabs having grown into them, and skin cells following. No matter how careful he is there is no way for Roier to remove it without agony - between each they apply antiseptic and wait for the wound to stop bleeding, but it only makes it take so, so much longer. At some point Cellbit leaves, leaves Philza alone with this not-a-stranger named Roier, and that’s when Philza starts to cry.

Roier slips into silence as he finishes, and once he is done he helps Philza drink.

“Do you remember who I am?” Roier asks, quietly, when the glass is drained.

Philza… He hesitates, before shaking his head.

Roier looks in pain, “I’m Cellbit’s husband - Roier. You were the photographer at our wedding.”

He was?

There’s a cloud in Philza’s mind, one he cannot escape. He knows the memories are still there, just… In a cage.

Sunlight and real air will burn it away with time - there’s potions that can help, too. It’ll just take time, but it’s upsetting, it’s frustrating - if he was not already crying, Philza thinks he would begin all over again.

“Mind if I have a look at your other injuries?” Roier asks, trying to keep up a smile. “Not that I don’t trust Cellbit, but it was three in the morning and the bandages need changed.”

Philza… opens his mouth, and finds his lips… They don’t move like he accepts.

Roier waits for him, almost frozen still.

“... Cellbit trusts you?” Philza asks, quiet, every word painful in its own right.

It also pulls open some of the stitch-wounds - he’s handed a few pads of gauze. One he sicks in his mouth, pushing the bleeding spots against it.

Roier’s head tilts to the side, but he nods, “pretty sure! He certainly loves me.”

Philza nods.

He uncurls his feet, offering them to Roier.

As Roier works he talks; Philza does not listen, but he lets himself drift into the words. A little less panicked and a little more awake, it is harder to ignore the pain in the daylight. He flinches and yelps and tries to curl up, but each time they pause he permits Roier to continue.

Cellbit trusts him, so Philza chooses to too.

Once he is done, Roier throws the old bandages into the fire, then comes and sits on the other end of the sofa. His sword is out - ready to grab if needs be, but he seems relaxed.

“How are you doing?” asks Roier, as though it isn’t obvious.

Philza gestures to himself; is that not obvious.

“I mean…” Roier gestures at his head.

Philza shrugs, and pulls the gauze from his mouth, and tries to work out what to say.

“It’s hard to remember,” Philza says, voice weak, and cracking. “It’s there, it’s just… bits of memory shut down, in the End. I don’t… HE is in the shadows. He is everywhere and I don’t- HE wants me back. I don’t want to go back.”

“Nobody will take you anywhere you don’t want to go,” Roier replies. “Cellbit let you in; you’re safe here.”

Philza does not know how to explain it, so he doesn’t. Roier might be a friend, or he might not be, but speaking makes his mouth bleed and he doesn’t even know where to start. He looks like he wants to ask more, and to press - he opens his mouth to, but then backs away.

Roier closes it, and opens it again. “It was the older eggs birthday yesterday,” he says instead of whatever question he wanted. “Leo wanted a sleepover party, so we had one. Chayanne was making food, and Radio Egg were supposed to show off but then Dapper stole Richas’ flute and…”

Philza half-listens to the story, half checks on the room. He doesn’t quite remember all of the children’s appearances, but he does know that those names belong to the eggs. One story ends and another begins and Philza… is pretty sure that he is forgetting something.

Still with the blankets its warm enough, but never comfortable - Philza lets Roier talk, and looks around.

Around about Roier talking about the latest updates on Tubbo and Bad’s prank war, Cellbit comes back.

He has food but, more importantly, he isn’t alone.

Philza has no idea who to watch - his children or his husband, and which child? And Fit is there too, but Fit is less important, next to his husband and his eggs.

Chayanne and Tallulah move faster and together, so Philza watches them. Between blinks he sees corruption leaking from their cracks; every time he closes and reopens his eyes, it is gone. They run over and stand by him, staring up at him.

“Hello,” he manages to say, and he offers each a hand.

Tallulah grabs one, Chayanne latches onto the other.

And Missa, Missa - he comes and sits between Philza and Roier. Philza places his head on his husband’s shoulder, stealing some of his strength too.

In return, he receives an arm behind him, in a subtle attempt at a hug.

Fit and Cellbit sit on stools across from them. Fit has a rose tucked into a pocket - when he looks, Missa and both of the eggs are wearing one, too.

Nobody speaks for long moments, Philza soaking in his family and letting them chase away the shadows a little more.

“Was it him.”

It’s Fit who breaks the silence, with a question that is not a question.

Philza does not want to leave Missa’s shoulder, does not want to face the world.

But he must.

So he picks up his head a little, and he nods.

“Well, fuck,” and isn’t that true. “I’m gonna guess you need stuff for void sickness? Anything else I should ask Pac e Mike for?”

And of course Fit would ask them, but also… Philza drops a little in relief, because his lungs are struggling from more than just panic, and the pain, and while he can see well enough he knows it is corrupted.

Not to mention the… Things, in the corners.

In the shadows.

“Antibiotics for preventing infection in wounds dirty for too long?” and, yes, Roier’s suggestion there is probably sensible. Philza would not be sure, but there was a lot of mud in his feet, and he knows the thread in his mouth was not clean. “And painkillers.”

… His mind is already compromised. Philza knows he needs them, knows he needs them badly, but… But he doesn’t want…

Chayanne pulls away and for a moment Philza panics, only to see his beloved son pulling dish after dish out, handing them to Missa or Philza, or scattering them over the floor. There is too much food - far too much - just smelling it feels slightly sickening, for all Philza’s heart softens as his boy trying to look after him.

It’s Missa who makes the decision, picking up a watery looking bowl.

And Philza… trusts neither his hands nor his mouth right now, so he fumbles for a straw. Between himself and Missa they manage not to spill it, Chayanne and Tallulah eating now they have seen their injured father start, and Missa only taking something once Philza is done.

Missa’s breakfast is a sandwich, and he eats it with Philza curled into his hip.

They’re safe, Philza’s family is safe, and with bright light the shadows stay further away. Philza finds Cellbit’s eyes, tests his lips - mouths a thank you.

For the help, for the food, for his family.

And Philza… He would rather ignore it, he would rather avoid it, but everyone in this room is involved now - they should at least get to know what they’re dealing with.

For all he cannot stomach the thought of HIM, and for all he keeps drifting away again.

“I…” he starts, then tries again. “You want to know?”

“Yes,” Cellbit answers, and Philza’s details are blurry but he never expected anything else to come from those lips.

Philza looks up to Missa, and then to Fit - they both know the basics, know something of it, he looks in their eyes and gives them permission to explain.

Each nods in understanding.

Philza burrows deeper into both his blankets and Missa’s sides, and pretends and pretends the world is not happening.

“Fit,” Missa says, hand moving to cover Philza’s own side. “Can you? I am not sure all of how to say it in English.”

Philza does not see Fit nod, not with his eyes mostly closed.

He can imagine it, though, with the sigh of also not wanting to do this.

“What do you know of the Ender King?” Fit asks.

And Philza’s mind /screams/, it screams and it screams and it’s hard to tell what is real and not. The darkness in his vision shifts, and Missa’s hand squeezes tightly his hip - try and ground, try and ground.

Philza picks up the end of Fit’s words, and he- He remembers what is being spoken of, of the time Pac came to a vision too.

“It was Rose,” he says, quiet, clinging with his voice to reality.

He hears signs from his children, but he’s too- his eyes are not just resting now, but screwed tight against the invasion. He clings to the roses and to Missa, and breathes through his mouth as both panic and damaged lungs steal his breath.

The hand on his hip moves to rubbing his back, concerned.

Missa is speaking, and Philza does not listen but he does cling. He clings to how Missa sounds sad, and to-

To Rose.

They speak of Rose.

She’s safe. If he speaks of her, maybe she will banish the dark.

He will not interrupt Missa, though, not like he would Fit - he waits for Missa to trail off before he finds his words again.

“She’s my,” and he coughs, because air is hard and his throat hurts and it has been so long since he even tried to speak, and so long he has been screaming with the noise trapped inside. “Spawn goddess. Where I come from.”

Fit agrees, but then starts talking and-

And Philza cannot hear about HIM. So he shuts off his ears and thinks very loudly of anything else - names he can remember, places he’s seen, everything he loves about Chayanne, Tallulah, Wilbur, Missa. Every trivia, every factoid, anything - anything - not to hear that name again.

“And then he found you,” Cellbit’s voice cuts in a way that neither Fit nor Missa’s did, demanding attention.

Philza… could not remember if he wanted to.

“My memory is,” he gestures to himself, trying not to admit to everything. “I don’t remember, but…”

Tallulah places down a sign and it reads ‘are you really back?’

Philza softens. Chayanne looks nervous, too - having let go of them, he reaches for his children again.

They come close this time, and he rests a rose-entwinned hand on each of their heads.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

Because he did.

“Does he have weaknesses?” Roier asks, moving the conversation on. “Everything has weaknesses!”

Philza wishes that were true, wishes he did not have to face this - because he has never told that to Missa or to Fit, and so he /has/ to answer.

His answer is a laugh, and he can hear the mania in it just as it catches in his lungs - not enough, not enough - and he chokes on nothing instead.

Regaining is breath takes too much, too much - by the time he does he is exhausted, his body trembling even as Missa takes on his entire weight.

“The Ender King is fucking dead, mate,” he says, because what else can he say?” “Water burnt him, but now he has no body… He’s weaker, he can’t steal entire cities anymore, but he lost his weaknesses too.”

And maybe that’s all the more terrifying.

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp philza #qsmp cellbit #fit missa roier chayanne and tallulah have smaller parts #hurt/comfort #angst #owie hours #important details to me - after his torture philza refuses to even think the ender king's name #i'm sure he's fiiiiiine #roier was fishing but realised the void-sickness is fucking his memory too much to actually anything but more trauma out of this

[plump-lips-imagine]

Super Mario Bros. Isekai!Reader (Bowser x Reader) (1/3)

You died. That’s how you got into this mess. You don’t know how and when but y’know you died.

And it looks like you were about to die again at the rate you were FALLING OUT OF THE SKY!

Princess Peach, looking at the night sky: Is that star…Screaming?

Reader: ÆAAAAAHHHHHHHH-!!! *Lands hard at the center of toad town*

The last thing you remember was being surrounded by toads and a woman wearing a Crown. Everything goes black.

You wake up in a very fancy room. The bed is very comfortable considering how far you well in the middle of the sky. You look around, the walls and pillars are creamy white and pink, with images of weird-looking mushrooms around and a blond Princess.

you see a toad with a nurse hat on.........Wait. This is all familiar....

You're..........YOU'RE IN THE MARIO UNIVERSE!

you gasp and sit up, groaning in pain from your muscles being sore and scratches on your body. The Pink toad gasps and calls for someone. Peach? You're in Peach's castle!

She walks in with a look of worry in her eyes. You gulp. This is all weird. You have been a big Nintendo fan for years, especially when it came to Mario. It seems like a very detailed lucid dream. But you knew from the pains in your body that you were awake. It made you flustered a bit. What's happening.

She's......really pretty. Her regal pink drees to the shine of her blond hair were surreal in real life. Would it be too weird to ask for her autograph?

She started to ask you questions in a gentle voice, as if not to startle you by how nervous you were acting. She asked you questions about if you were okay or feeling well, and if you knew why you were in the sky.

You answered 'Yes sorta' to your injuries. But 'Why were you in the sky?"........You had no idea. You tell her that you don't remember much. You weren't even from here. This land is unknown to you (kinda). Matter of fact, you tell her you might be from a different universe (it's not like it's far-fetched from the Mario Universe).

She looks surprised by your answer, but you knew she didn't think you were lying. She believed you. The question is, what now?

.........She then speaks up and asks if you had any place to go. You said no. She then asks if you would be interested in staying inside the castle until you find your home.

Peach couldn't just leave you to fend for yourself. It didn't feel right when you were in such a different place. This shocked you by how generous and kind she was being but of course, you said yes. This is a dream come true!

That's the short story about how you came into the Mushroom Kingdom, and how you became Peach's Lady-in-waiting.

What can you say, you worked really hard to stay at the place where you were able to help out a bit in the castle. You even became friends with Peach (goals).

The toads were so kind to you, and they were so cute, and everything was just so beautiful.

You also got to Meet Mario and Luigi along the way. They are even better in real life! You had to fight the urge to ask for an autograph.

All was going well.... until

You were having one of the many tea parties that you and Peach loved doing together when a loud ruckus was happening outside the castle.

Checking outside, you see a huge skyship. Oh No.

That was Bowser's alright. This is happening all too soon. You grabbed Peach's hand and make a run for a possible escape when he tries to kidnap her.

You instinctively grab a random power-up just incase something went wrong for Mario to take. You didn't have time to see what you grabbed.

Maybe sneaking in the backdoor can buy some time before he-

You are quickly interrupted by bumping into a large figure in your way while you were lost in thought. You had to look up to see his face. The Koopa King himself, Bowser.

"BWAHAHA! Trying to leave so soon, Princess? It's rude to leave a guest waiting. Nice Try!" He taunted as the princess took a step back behind you.

You're not really thinking. But you couldn't just let peach get taken. It'll be a minute before Mario and Luigi get here.

'This is a bad idea.' You thought to yourself as you stood your ground, although shaking a bit in fear. "Leave her alone! S-She's tired of all this kidnapping! Please Leave!" You urge the Monster.

He only looks at you with a mix of anger, confusion, and disgust.

"Who is this pipsqueak!? OUT OF MY WAY IF YOU KNOWS WHAT"S GOOD FOR YOU!!" He growled.

You Gulped. This is a REALLY bad idea. But your body moved on it's own as you suddenly jumped up and skull bash your head to his surprisingly strong that it shocked both of you as he went back a bit.

Peach looked in shocked as you did this. this was a sight to behold. No one was brave enough to fight him besides the Mario Bros.

You don't know why you did that but it hurts. Really bad. He held his head in pain. He then growled and roared loudly. His piercing red eyes glaring down at you. "HOW DARE YOU!!" You didn't have time to think as you were sent to the wall with a powerful punch to the face. You hit the wall with a thud and felt a bit of blood in your mouth. And felt something moving in it and spat it out. A tooth. You took out your tooth.

Although vision blurry, you saw move closer to Princess Peach. She called out your name in worry and fear. You had to do something, but it hurt to move.

You then remembered the item you took with you. You pulled it out. A feather.

You lookin front of you. You couldn't wait for Mario to show up. You never tried a Power-u but first thing for everything!

As Bowser Stepped closer to Peach, he was suddenly stopped by a foot coming towards his torso!

It was you, in a cape, with a bruised cheek and bloody head.

You still think this is a bad idea, but whatever.

"You don't know when to quit do you? PEACH IS MINE!"

That's how your battle started. As someone who has never fought before, at least with a Giant Koopa, You were still at a disadvantage. You got hit, scratched and stomped on. But you were resilient. And didn't stop coming back up

Which is why you won. Peach was able to buy you some time with her heart power and weaken him. Just Enough for you to do the famous tail swing out of the castle., sending him flying.

...... You then collapsed out of exhaustion and from being beaten.

Peach gasp and hurries to your side. "Oh My Goodness! Are you alright?!"

With a blank stare, you smile dumbly at her, your new gap teeth showing . "You're safe, thank goodness……When did you get 3 heads?"

Peach smiled and giggles at you, worry still in her eyes. "My hero…let's Get you healed up, ahall we?"

"Okey dokey."

Meanwhile, Somewhere else

A loud Thundorus roar echo across Dark Lands, shaling the castle that settled there.

"Calm Down, your Angrieness!" Kamek tries to pacify the King.

"THIS BLOWS!!" He stomps and stomps in a Tantrum fit. Bandages on his chest, tail, and his forehead where covered up. "

"Not only do I have to deal with thosel lousy brothers, BUT NOW A RANDOM BROAD!?" He stomps the ground some more!, shaking the ground!

"IT'S NOT FAIR!"

He's so mad. The next time he goes to that Castle, he's going to pummel you. He doesnt need anyone else interfeing with his evil plans! Count your days, pipsqueak! You mess with the wrong King!

#bowser #bowser x reader #x reader #princess peach #mario #mario bros #super mario movie #bowser x y/n

[darknight3904]

Reaching Out

Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Asgard 2011 

   "We need to go get Thor," Hogun said 

   "It is treason." Sif pointed out 

   "We will need Astri as well. I'm sure Thor will wonder if she does not come." Volstagg said 

   "And how do you propose we get her? She lives practically under Loki's thumb. I'd bet he has guards watching her 24/7, reporting to him if she even so much as breaks a nail." Fandral pointed out, "I love Astri as much as all of you but she has always been closest with Loki. Getting her to go against his orders will be impossible." 

   "Astri is her own woman. She can do as she pleases, Loki does not hold her back." Sif defended, knowing her friend had defied the trickster many times in the past. 

   "We should not speak so loudly of treason. Heimdall might be listening." Fandral said 

The doors opened to a guard entering. 

   "Heimdall demands your presence." The guard says "He also commands you to leave Astri here." 

Sif followed the Warriors Three towards the Bifrost. They passed the library as they exited the castle. Oh how easy it would be to call to her friend who was most likely buried in a book on magic or histories of the surrounding realms. She cast one more look at the doors to the library before continuing, Astri would be fine, everyone in the castle knew Loki was enamored with her. Well, everyone except Astri and Loki who had been dancing around each other for hundreds of years. 

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Astri closed the book on mind linking with a heavy sigh. She was learning all sorts of new methods she hadn't been able to try since her and Loki's fight. She had reached out and tried to see what he was doing with his day but there was nothing. Sure, she could feel his presence and that he was alive but he never let her in to see exactly what he was doing or where he was. 

Odin's room was quiet when Astri entered. Frigga was asleep by his side, her head resting on the golden frame of the bed. Her queen's dedication to her husband was admirable, Astri hoped to one day have someone to devote herself to the way Frigga did Odin.  She sat down on the other side of Odin's bed frame. He looked rather peaceful as he lay there as still as a corpse. She was never close to Odin, he had preferred to spend more time with Thor and Loki, mainly Thor, when they were children. Still, there were moments when he had acted as her father figure and not just as her king. Astri smiled as she remembered the time he had chased her first boyfriend off after he had disrespected Astri's combat skills. 

   "Are you ever going to wake again? Loki sits on your throne and I fear he might just plunge us all into war." Astri softly said, her back turned to the sleeping Allfather. 

The large fire on the wall behind them crackled as Astri observed the ornate door that the Allfather had. Golden flowers and vines adorned its metalwork. She would hear Frigga shifting behind her, breaking the peacefulness of the room. 

   "Astri." Frigga said, her voice laced with worry, "Get up. Get Loki, bring him here now." 

Astri turned to Frigga, she was confused as to why they needed Loki who was on her last nerve. Frigga opened her mouth to explain but the crackle of the fire was replaced with the hiss of ice forming and taking over the beautiful door Astri had admired. Said doors nearly went flying from the frame when two huge Frost Giants stalked into the room. One of them Astri recognized from their impromptu trip to Jotunheim with Thor. 

Frigga made the first move as she cut at one of the Frost Giant's legs with a sword. His large hand swooped at her before she could make her next move and she went flying across the room. 

   "A child guards the King of Asgard." the one Astri was sure was Laufey, Loki's birth father said. 

Laufey pointed at her and his soldier came charging at her, ice sword drawn. He was quick but Astri was quicker. She let a sharp burst of power shoot from her hands, and the Frost Giant went flying into the large fire behind him. Screams of horror filled the room as he tried to get up, the fire hissed as his cool temperature began to put it out. 

   "I don't think so," Astri said, directing her magic so the fire would roar once more. 

The frost giant screamed in pain as he burned to death, Astri's magic fueling the flames and keeping him from getting up. 

   "Know that your death came at the hands of Laufey." 

Shit. She forgot all about Laufey. She quickly turned to see him ready to kill the Allfather. A sharp blast stopped her from making her move to burn Laufey to death like his friend. 

    "And your death came at the son of Odin." 

Loki! Astri had never been so glad to see him and his giant helmet-clad self. 

   "You saved him!" Frigga exclaimed, rushing to hug her son 

   " I swear to you Mother, they will pay for this." Loki promised before looking at Astri, " Are you alright?" 

Astri nodded glancing back at the charred body of the Frsot Giant she had killed. Loki's eyes widened at the sight, looking back and forth between the girl he hadn't factored into his plans and the freshly dead body. Astri could sense a comment coming from his mouth but the doors burst open again and Astri immediately turned, ready to burn another giant for daring to harm her family. Instead, she was met with a newly restored Thor, hammer and all. 

   "Thor!" She smiled as Frigga ran to her eldest, embracing him 

Astri hugged him as well as he entered the room fully. He seemed distracted as he glared at Loki, not focused on reunions at all. 

   "Have you told them? How you sent the destroyer to kill our friends, to kill me?" Thor asked 

Astri looked at Loki whose face seemed to paint the perfect picture of guilt. It couldn't be. Loki wouldn't. He had never been close with Sif and the warriors and Thor was a whole different story but he wouldn't try to kill them right? Her Loki was good, he had just saved Odin from certain doom for crying out loud. 

   "I must have been following Father's last command," Loki said, his spear raised, ready to defend against Thor. 

Astri looked at Frigga who was distraught, looking between her two sons who were ready to tear each other apart. 

   "You're a talented liar, brother." Thor mocked 

   "It's good to have you home. Now I must destroy Jotunheim." Loki said 

Before anyone could blink, Loki had Gungnir let out a strong blast. sending Thor through the walls and out of the castle. Astri gasped and ran to the hole Thor had left in Odin's room. Loki was moving quickly to the doors and she ran to block him. 

   "Tell me he's lying." She commanded, "Tell me that Thor's words of you trying to kill him was all some sick joke you dreamed up." 

Loki's answer was only silence as he stared at her. Astri felt her eyes well with tears as she punched at his chest. 

   "How could you?" She cried angrily as Loki caught her hands in his.

   "I have my reasons. I'll let you know all of them when I reach my goals, I promise." Loki said letting her go.

"And what of the Frost Giants today and on Thor's coronation? Did you have a hand in that?" She asked wiping at her eyes.

"How else would they have gotten into Asgard? Heimdall certainly didn't let them in." He said before stepping around her and walking away

Astri couldn't believe what he had just admitted. She knew Loki was one for tricks and mischief but attempting cold-blooded murder? She never dreamed he'd do all of this just for the throne. She raced after him as he moved quickly down the hall. 

   "You're a traitor!" She shouted "A monster!" 

Loki froze when the words left her mouth and Astri couldn't tell if she regretted it. All she knew was that she couldn't let him destroy Jotunheim over a conflict he had organized all by himself. Her moral compass outweighed her guilt as her magic flew at Loki. It hit him in his back and he fell to the ground, hard. Astri walked to him as he pulled himself up. 

��  "What are you doing?" He seethed, angry that she had knocked him down 

   "Saving innocent lives." She said, ready to let another blast free at any moment 

   "So am I. They would have rebelled eventually! Do you want to see Asgardian children frozen where they stand? Dead because of a war I can prevent?" Loki asked 

   "You don't know that!" Astri argued 

   "You're just like everyone else. You don't see the bigger picture. Don't you get it? I'm not doing this for a throne. Why do you think I saved Odin?" Loki questioned 

   "You do a lot of things that don't make sense to me. " Astri said, ready to knock him down again 

   "They will, soon," Loki said sincerely 

Astri hadn't expected Loki's fist to come at her as fast as it did but by the time she had registered it, it was too late. A loud crunch of her bones was all she heard before everything went dark. 

Months later, Asgard 2011

Astri had spent the past months bored. The castle she had grown up in sometimes felt like a prison rather than a home. Her face had healed up perfectly after Loki had knocked her out. The break in her nose had been clean, calculated almost and the healers that helped her said there'd be no issues with it in the future. Now, she spent her days reading, training with Sif, and talking with Thor who felt Loki's absence just as much as she did. 

   "So this mortal of yours, she's what Midgard calls a scientist?" Astri asked in between bites of food. 

She and Thor had begun eating dinner together each night, something she used to do with Loki. 

   "Yes. She's quite brilliant. Heimdall says she's searching for me." Thor replied 

Astri sadly smiled. Ever since Thor had destroyed the Bifrost, traveling had been completely cut and the only way to see into other worlds was through Heimdall. Sure, Loki had his secret passages but had never bothered to share them with anyone. 

   "And what of that fellow you've been meeting with, in the markets?" Thor asked 

Astri blushed at his words. She had thought she was being more secretive about that.

   "It's nothing. I think I just need to talk to someone that isn't you, Sif, or Frigga." She waved him off 

   "Well, you ought to tell him that. Those flowers he sent to your chambers the other day are telling a different tale." Thor laughed 

   "When the hell did you become so observant?" Astri groaned and covered her face with her hands. 

   "I've always been like this...I'm just that good." Thor explained 

   "How is it you go to Midgard and come back more humble yet somehow weirder?" Astri asked 

   "What do you mean I've always been like this." He shrugged

Gods Thor was going to actually drive Astri insane one day. 

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Astri had bid Thor goodnight after they finished eating. She was feeling tired after all her training with Sif today. Her friend never pulled her punches and thanks to that Astri was sure she'd have bruised on her skin for the next century. Beyond her physical exertion, Astri had a routine each night. It would start with a warm bath, followed by letting Drifa help her oil her hair while they talked about their lives. Drifa did most of the speaking since she had met a wonderful woman recently and were seeing each other. Astri supplied the doom and gloom to the conversation by often bringing up how tired she was of the calm that had followed Loki's demise. Following all of that, Astri would sit on top of her bed and search for him. For Loki. 

   "Tonight, I'll find you." She whispered to herself and closed her eyes. 

She always tried to remain hopeful but there was nothing but darkness as usual. Whatever was left of Loki, if he was even alive was unreachable to her. 

   "Please. Just a glimpse." She pleaded to her empty room 

A sharp pain fluttered across her face, followed by a flash of unbearable heat. Murmured voices joined the fray as Astri tried to focus on what she was feeling and hearing. Was this Loki? Or had she accidentally ended up in someone else's mind? Darkness was all she could see but whoever was speaking, their voice grew clearer the more she focused. Pained gasps followed another hot flash of something that felt as though her mind was melting. 

   "Do it again. He can handle it." 

And so we have reached the end of the first Thor movie. If you take a quick look at the summary for this story you will see that I have added warnings for this story. I do suggest going to the masterlist of this story to read them. I have decided to change that and it will include both smut (hehe everyone's fave ) and suicidal/self-harm scenes. Material like this will be marked and have individual warnings when it pops up. 

Taglist (to join comment below)

@buttercupcookies-blog

@666-gothic-bat-666

@cyberwears

#loki #loki laufeyson #marvel #loki series #loki x reader #mcu #fanfic #tom hiddleston #chris hemsworth #thor #thor ragnarok #thor odinson #romance #loki x oc #loki x f!reader #loki odinson #frost giant loki #loki season 2 #thor the dark world #thor ragnorok #the avengers

[theyareweird]

Kianna in Wonderland – Part 4

Card Castle

Kianna stood up from the table. She politely thanked everyone for the tea party before leaving. The Cheshire Cat had quietly vanished from the scene. With the royal couple and Kianna being escorted by the card soldiers, they left the Door Mouse, March Hare and Mad Hatter back at the Hatter's cottage. As the group made their way through the woods, Kianna noticed another Alice's corpse rotting on the ground. This one wasn't decayed down to the bone like the previous body. Instead, this girl appeared fresh with maggots mutilating its crevices. The oder in the air was fowl, causing Kianna to clasp a hand over her nose and mouth. Luckily, she was at least ten feet away from the body and wouldn't be at risk for contracting diseases.

Eventually, the twisted trees of the woods came out of view. A large castle now stood in the distance. Card Castle was a traditional castle, but it was built of cards. The idea was honestly impossible, but the building was there nonetheless and it looked magnificent.

"Welcome to Card Castle". Kaname said.

Upon entering the foyer, Kianna was surprised to see the castle's interior somehow managed to appear as though it was constructed of sturdy walls. Golden chandeliers hung high to light up the space. Black, red and gold furniture were everywhere.

Suddenly, Seiren, Ruka and Zero dispersed. Kianna was now alone with the King and Queen. "We'll give you a tour, Alice". Yuki beamed. From the foyer, the Queen led Kianna into the next room. "Past the entrance hall is the grand dinning room. We have lunch and dinner here. Breakfast is served in our rooms". She happily explained.

The long, rectangular room contained a grand buffet table with many padded chairs lining its perimeter. Beyond that, the left wall was taken up by several  windows, which met the ceiling. The red velvet curtains were drawn to reveal the courtyard outside. There, white rose bushes and various stone fountains decorated the landscape.

"The courtyard can be accessed in another hall. We also have a red rose garden and a hedge maze at the back of the castle". Yuki smiled.

"Your castle is lovely". Kianna commented. She then looked around the environment and asked, "Where is the Cheshire Cat"?

"He probably left to take a nap somewhere. He lives in the castle with us as our cousin. Don't worry, you can visit him later". Kaname reassured.

None of the previous Alices had ever been curious as to the Cheshire Cat's whereabouts. Perhaps this Alice might even be a bit concerned about him. Either way, this level of emotion towards Senri told Kaname she must be the Alice they've been waiting for. With this in mind, it was time for a celebration.

"Tonight, in your honor, we'll be hosting a ball". Kaname announced.

"I'll dress you up, Alice"! Yuki exclaimed.

Kianna froze in place. She was stunned to say the least. Kianna had no idea why the King and Queen were going through this much effort to make her feel welcome, but it was making her flustered.

"I'll leave to allow you both to prepare for the party". Kaname said, kissing Yuki's hand. The king the parted ways and retreated to his own bed chambers.

Meanwhile, Yuki took Kianna to her own bed chambers. The room had been prepared years in advance for the arrival of Senri's future mate, but had never been in use until today. Unfortunately, Kianna didn't have time to take in her current surroundings. She had to dress up for the ball and Yuki was eager to help her prepare.

The dress Yuki laid out of Kianna was certainly extravagant, but not too luxurious. The right side contained a puff sleeve while the left shoulder was held up by straps. A black and white diamond pattern adorned the waist and flared out into a side ruffle layer. Finally, the skirt flared out at the waist, consisting of white and pale blue layers of subtle large flower pattern fabric. Yuki handed Kianna a pair of Marry Jane shoes with vertical black and white striped stockings.

While Kianna sat on the bed, pulling up her stockings, she turned to Yuki, who was holding a pair of Marry Jane shoes for her. "If I could ask, why does everybody call me Alice"? She asked.

Yuki smiled and said "That’s your name".

Kianna frowned at this. 'Alice' wasn't her birth name, nor was it a name she preferred to be addressed by. Regardless, she needed to focus on survival at this point.

Yuki then gawked at Kianna's facial expression. The queen could tell she wasn't happy. "Do you not like your name"?

Kianna's amber eyes widened. If she was going to potentially escape this place with her life, she needed to be on good terms with everyone around her as to not cause suspension or anger anyone to the point they decide to take her life. "Uh, no, I don't hate it". Kianna said, shaking her head. "I'm just surprised everyone knows it".

"Of course we all know it". Zero stated. The knight of spades stood at the entrance to Kianna's bedroom. "We've waited for your arrival for a long time". He mumbled.

"Zero". Yuki smiled.

"Kaname told me to fetch you. It's time for you to return to your bed chambers and get ready". Zero said in a flat tone.

"I see. I'm coming". Yuki said, trotting up to the siver-haired knight. The Queen immediately left Kianna and the knight alone. Before Zero left, he turned to the side and said "One more thing... The King says he's glad you passed the first test".

Kianna was confused. She didn't know what he meant by that. Regardless, the knight walked away before she could question him. Once Kianna was dressed, she left her room to attend the ball, but she had no idea where she was going. At this point, the short girl was nervous. Kianna had never been to a ball before and she didn't want to cause any trouble. Sadly, it was clear she had been transported to a wacky world where it's inhabitants were insane... and immortality corrupt. If the petite girl wasn't careful, she could end up dead. These people had no qualms of killing an innocent person for no reason.

Suddenly, a floatting grin appeared before Kianna. "Where are you going"? The mouth asked.

Kianna recognized the voice. It was the Cheshire Cat. "I'm trying to find my way to the ballroom". Kianna replied.

Senri's full body then appeared in front of Kianna. The cat was currently dressed in a white and pale blue suit with black pants. A black and white diamond tie was tucked under his vest. It was obvious his clothes matched Kianna's attire. "You could go this way". Senri said, pointing to his left. "You could go that way". He continued, pointing to his right. "Or perhaps, you'd prefer to travel up in that direction". Senri said, pointing in the direction of the staircase.

"I don't care how I get to the ballroom". Kianna blurted. "Can you please just tell me how to find my way"? She politely asked.

"Of course, none of them lead you down the right path..." Senri added.

Kianna blinked in response. "Oh". She sighed. Finding her way around the castle was going to be harder than she thought.

"–To me". Senri purred. His tail flicked mischievously. Senri then slid up to Kianna's side and slyly licked his arm with hers.

Surprised: @nunezs-stuff

#kianna komori #senri shiki #vampire knight #alice in wonderland #fan fiction #anime

[femalefemur]

The Illusion of Freedom: Part Three

part one | part two | epilogue

warnings: kidnapping, cannibalism, dead dove do not eat, please let me know if I missed anything!

word count: 2.7k

A/N: There is actual cannibalism in this part. I have also tried to make reader as gender neutral as possible with no real defining features, so I hope they do actually come across as gender neutral.

After that you’d find yourself in John’s study more often than not. The others joined you after only a day of being apart, complaining to John that they had missed you and pushed their way into his study.

The days that you were in the study you’d talk to John in the moments where he’d lean back in his chair, eyes shifting away from whatever was in front of him as he took a moment of respite. He’d always answer your questions with a small smile playing on his lips, eyes trailing over you in hunger, he hid it well but you could see the glimmer of it behind his gaze. It always made your stomach turn in unease despite your best efforts to quell those feelings. The men had never tried to do anything inappropriate, sure Soap was overly eager and boisterous but his hands had never wandered where they shouldn’t. Still, the twinge of unease remained as you interacted with them despite growing closer, despite sleeping on top of each other, despite the laughter and the food shared. Despite it all there was always a hunger in the depths of their eyes, the only thing you hadn’t realised was that the hunger was not of a sexual nature but rather actual hunger, the need to consume you and fill their stomachs with your flesh. Perhaps though you knew deep down what it truly was when they stared for a moment too long, perhaps that is why the unease didn’t disappear no matter how close you became, perhaps that is why nothing came as a surprise.

Your days were happy though, you had friends of sorts, food in your belly, a soft bed to sleep in and clothing so luxurious it felt like a crime to wear them. You were also free to do what you liked despite the three large men who followed your every step, you were allowed to explore every nook and cranny of the castle and its grounds. You were even free to explore the vast forest that surrounded the castle, and try as you might to find a way out of it or to memorise landmarks, it always proved useless as if the forest was ever shifting, the landmarks that were in a certain place once were never seen again. After a month off trying to find a way through the forest you had given up and opted to spend time within the castle grounds instead. You’d explored every inch of the castle, your fingers running over the cool stone as you walked, eyes widening the first time you had done so as it had felt as though the castle itself was alive and breathing. The feeling no longer phased you though and instead brought you a sort of comfort, especially when you were alone at night, curling against the wall beside your bed to feel the castle, to feel less alone and forget about what was to come as you’d drift off into sleep. 

Soap had seen you once with unshed tears in your eyes in the dead of night as you’d left your chambers to wander out into the garden. His hands had gently cupped your face as he’d asked you what was wrong, concern etched into his face. You had told him how alone you felt at night, how helpless you felt in all this and how you missed your life, your home and your family. How you missed the laughter of your siblings as you all joked around while doing farm work, how you missed the warmth and love of your parents as they hugged you before you went to bed. You’d sniffled as you’d talked and stared up at him, lip wobbling before finally giving in and letting the tears fall. He had gently shushed you, telling you that you were loved by each one of them and that you’d never be alone again as he had lapped at your tears and his saliva had coated your face. True to his word, after that night you had never slept alone again. Instead Soap or Gaz, or more often than not both, would slip into bed with you and wrap you in their arms as you slept.

The rest of the months had passed much the same, you had grown closer to everyone in the ten months you had been captive in the castle. They had become a sort of family to you, people you had started to care about despite everything. That was until another month had passed and Samhuinn was growing ever closer. The castle was a flurry of preparations, most of which you had no part in. You had however been permitted to help decorate, changing all the table clothes to a beautiful white and gold, bringing in fresh flowers daily to adorn the tables and your chambers. You had also been tasked with placing candles in every possible nook and cranny of the castle. The snow colour of the candles a stark contrast to the dark grey stone of the castle as they lined the floors of the hallways and the small alcoves that were scattered along the walls. The candles were lit each night and became seemingly more magical each time you saw them, the beauty of the warm orange flames flickering and wax dripping onto the floors never ceasing to take your breath away.

The closer Samhuinn got the more the air crackled with a buzzing energy. The more the men stared at you as well, their hunger became more and more thinly veiled. The more they would invade your space and touch you, their large fingers caressing your soft flesh for a fleeting moment before they remembered themselves and pulled away. The more you would wake to Soap with his face buried in your neck, breathing deeply of your scent as you both slept. These occurrences only increased the more the days passed and by the week before Samhuinn the men were practically plastered to you. Soap more than the others as he hounded you like a dog, herding you everywhere like you were a lamb who needed guidance to follow even the simplest of paths. 

All of this had culminated to tonight, Samhuinn had finally arrived and the men were ravenous. Both Gaz and Soap had fussed over you the whole day, laying out even fancier clothes for you as they pressed themselves to your sides. They’d been with you since the moment you woke, their hands gently kneading your flesh and their noses pressed to your skin until you slipped out of their grasp and made your way to the bathroom. They had followed you in there too, to your surprise, cooing over you and drawing you a bath despite it being the morning. They had waved off your complaints as they poured divine smelling oils into the water and urged you into the bath. At breakfast they had piled your plate high with fresh pastries and fruits. They had poured you watered down honey wine despite your protest that it was too early for you to drink by assuring you that it was watered down enough that you wouldn’t get drunk, giving you pleased smiles as you drank the sweet wine. 

The same occurrence had happened at lunch. Ghost had insisted on a picnic despite the cold weather as he carried you out to the usual spot under the oak tree, carefully setting you down on the plush blanket before wrapping you in warm furs. John had also joined the four of you for the picnic, smiling at you as you expressed your surprise at him joining you, telling you that it was Samhuinn and he wanted to make the day as special as it could be. His words had made the unease within you grow more as you smiled back and nodded. You had graciously accepted the plate he pushed into your hands that was piled high with different varieties of cheese and cured meats, a few thick slices of bread stacked on the side. After you had finally finished the food on your plate Soap had insisted on feeding you the candied figs that sat untouched. He had gently shushed your protests as he pushed a fig into your mouth, feeding you until you told him if you ate anymore you would be sick and making you lick his fingers clean. 

You had fallen asleep soon after that, the bit too much food in your stomach making you sluggish and the warmth of the furs and bodies around you lulling you into a nap. When you awoke you were inside by the fire and the sun was dipping below the horizon. Ghost was pressed to your back as he held you in his arms, his back against the chaise lounge in an almost upright position while Gaz and Soap pressed into either side of him and you, their arms thrown over your body. Your shifting had caused them to wake, sleepy smiles on their face as they pressed closer to you and nosed at your neck and hair. Asking you if you had slept well as their fingers delved under your clothing and rested on your stomach. You had nodded and gently manoeuvred their hands away before standing, saying you had slept fine and making your way to your room with the three men trailing behind you. 

You had watched as they chatted excitedly, pawing through your closet to find something they deemed acceptable before their hands turned to you and started to strip you. They’d ignored your objections that you could dress yourself, baring your body to them for a moment before they were dressing you again, hands pressing into your flesh as they worked. They’d cooed and praised how your body looked as they grabbed every bit of exposed skin before you were finally clothed again. At dinner they had kept your cup overflowing and your plate full. The delicious, warm soups, meats and vegetables settling in your stomach and making you feel content, like you were being warmed from the inside out. There was also a large selection of desserts, everything from cakes to ice cream and the men insisted you try every single one even if it was only a single bite. You had left dinner stuffed so full of food that it had felt hard to walk. Your stomach had protested slightly and your breathing had become slightly heavy before you managed to lean against a window and stick your head out of it, sure that you would be sick, only for nothing to come. The fresh air had helped your nausea though and you were able to make the rest of the walk to your chambers without incident. 

You had been pushed into the bathroom the moment you entered your room. A bath had been drawn and the smell of expensive oils permeated the air as multiple hands worked to strip you naked before Ghost was lifting you and placing you in the bath with a kiss to your forehead. You were thankfully left to relax alone for the duration of your bath, the only moment you had had to yourself all day you had thought as you sank a little lower into the bath and sighed happily. The hot water had relaxed you properly as you stared at the flickering candles around the tub. The peace however was short lived as Gaz was waiting in your room as you exited the bathroom, an almost sheer tunic in his hands. He had smiled at you as he slipped the tunic on you, its hem reaching your ankles, leaving you with enough room to walk without tripping on it. He had instructed you to sit and wait before leaving your room, smiling at you as the hunger in his eyes slipped out for a split second.

That brought you to now, walking down the hallway as you stared at the candles, watching wax pool onto the floors as you walked. There was complete silence in the castle for once, the only sound that could be heard was the echoing of footsteps as you walked with Soap and Ghost to the room at the end of the hallway. You took a deep breath as you stopped outside the door and looked up at Ghost who smiled down at you before pushing the doors open and ushering you inside. You glanced around the room, taking it all in as you walked closer to John and Gaz, your eyes falling onto the slab of stone in the middle of the room, an altar you realise. 

“You look especially lovely tonight little lamb” John’s voice carried softly through the room as he stepped closer to you. 

“Thank you” your voice came out in a hushed tone, the reality of everything settling in as Gaz placed a hand on your lower back and guided you to the altar.

You were slipped out of the tunic before being positioned to lay down on the altar, the stone surprisingly warm against your skin. The men stood around you, their normal clothing replaced with white robes covered in intricate gold embroidery that glinted in the candle light. You stared up at them, watching their every move with dread and curiosity, your ears buzzing as they chanted in a language you didn’t understand. As the chanting stopped the candle flames stopped flickering and burned bright and true, the air filled with a static charge and their hands grasped each other. Completing the circle around you, each man placed a tender kiss on your lips.

“Now let us eat,” John said, his voice clear and ringing in your ears.

You didn’t feel the first cut, perhaps it was the adrenaline pumping through your veins, the tension of everything making you unfeeling for a small moment. You felt the second though, felt it as it cut through the layers of skin, fat and sinew, right down to the bone before cutting down and around, taking a chunk right out of your thigh. You watched the blood pour down onto the stone altar as you heard their teeth tearing at the lump of your flesh that they held in their hands. Throats swallowing and mouths bloody as they reached into the gaping hole in your thigh and tore, a scream ripped through your throat at that but they didn’t seem to mind as they ate. Your blood dripped onto their clothes as they ate and flowed down onto the floor from the altar as you lay there. Hours passed as they tore and ate, sometimes kisses were reverently pressed to your skin before you were bitten and a chunk of your flesh was ripped from you. You’d gazed down once to see what had happened to your body, out of morbid curiosity you supposed, only to be met with a truly horrific sight. There were large pits in your legs and thighs, open gaping wounds that had blood flowing from them like streams, the beautiful, red fluid glistening in the candle light. The white of your bone was a stark contrast to the pieces of flesh and sinew that hung from the wounds like threads, threads of your fate that had been weaved by the Moirai themselves. 

You had passed out soon after that as they kept consuming your body, each bite of their ravenous maws bringing you closer and closer to your end. By the time they had finished the altar and floor were covered in your blood, sticky and red, a beautiful contrast to your pristine white bones which now lay on the altar in the place where you had once laid whole. Your bones had been picked clean, not a single piece of meat left on them, and laid out carefully with your innards carefully placed within them in the exact places they would be if you were still alive. 

They left the room once everything was in its place with their hands, mouths and clothes coated in your blood, the red seeping into the fabric so deeply it would never come out. There were bits of your flesh still between their teeth and the taste of you lingered on their tongues as they cleaned themselves, the sacrifice was complete.

#cannibalism #tw cannibalism #reader fic #task force 141 #taskforce 141 #cod #x reader #141 x reader #reader insert #reader insert fic #cod x reader #captain price #captain john price #gaz #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #soap #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish

[the-al-chemist]

The Lights That Never Go Out

Chapter 10: Morning

A/N: It’s a new dawn, a new day, a new year, and the start of something that might just be wonderful.

Warnings: mentions of nudity and vague sexual references

1st January, 1999

It was the morning sun shining on Charlie’s face that first caused him to stir in his sleep, but it was the sounds of the city outside that roused him. Muggle cars were revving their engines and beeping their horns, there were raised voices in the street, and feathered wings fluttered as a pair of pigeons flew over the skylight. Having spent his whole life surrounded by rolling fields or rugged mountains or gently washing waves, waking up to this urban dawn chorus was a new experience for him.

Of course, there was another thing that Charlie wasn’t used to waking up to. He turned his face to look at the face resting on the pillow beside him. Artemis was still sound asleep, oblivious to — or, perhaps accustomed to — the noises outside, her hair messy, eyebrows slightly furrowed, and jaw clenched. Even in sleep she looked so fierce that Charlie didn’t dare risk waking her, not even to push back the lock of dark hair that had fallen down in front of her nose.

As slowly and as quietly as he could, he raised himself into a seated position. Without either of them even deciding it would be so, Charlie had ended up sleeping on the side of the bed that was pushed up against the wall, meaning that he was now effectively trapped. For want of anything better he could do, he looked around at the room, at Artemis’ room, and the items that it held: the photos on top of the chest of drawers, the books on the shelves, a stuffed toy Kneazle perching on top of a miniature wooden castle in the corner of the room, a pair of old hiking boots beside the door. Some of the objects he recognised, some of them he didn’t; they were relics of the life Artemis had led before he knew her. Charlie could barely remember a time before he knew her, but there once had been such a time, and here was the evidence.

The wall next to where he lay was decorated with a large map of the world, into which someone — presumably Artemis — had stuck a number of coloured pins. They were all over the world, in Europe, Africa, both Americas, even as far as Australasia. Charlie’s eyes widened. He had never realised that Artemis was quite so well-travelled. Unless, of course, these were not only places that she had been, but also the places she wished to visit.

The mattress shifted beside Charlie, pulling his attention away from the map. He looked to his other side, and saw that Artemis was now awake, her hazel eyes open and fixed on him, gold-flecked in the sunlight.

“Good morning,” he said to her. Her lips twitched.

“Morning.”

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, looking at each other in near-silence. Without thinking about what he was doing, or how little sense it made for him to do it, Charlie pulled the bedsheets further up towards his navel. Artemis made a small noise halfway between a cough and a giggle, and he cleared his throat.

“When did you go to New Zealand?” he asked.

Artemis frowned. “I haven’t been to New Zealand.”

“Oh, I thought… So, you want to go to New Zealand?”

“Why?” Artemis’ eyebrows knitted even more tightly together. “Are you inviting me to go to New Zealand?”

“No. Well, not necessarily.” Charlie nodded his head at the map. “I just thought that might be why there was a pin there.”

He was more confused than ever, but Artemis finally stopped frowning. She shuffled so that she was also seated, her gaze on the map rather than Charlie.

“They’re not places I’ve been to,” she said. “They’re places other people have been to.” She took a breath. “My aunt and uncle got it for me the first time they went away after my brother went missing. I think they knew that I was worried that when people went away that they might not… Anyway, this way, I could always see where they were. And then, when anyone else I knew went somewhere, I’d put a pin on the map for them, too. I dunno why. Just a stupid habit, I guess.”

Artemis might not have known why she had started doing that, but Charlie had a fairly good idea. It had nothing to do with habits, and nor was it stupid, not given the number of people Artemis had known to not return. He looked at the pins, the placement of which now made perfect sense. One in Egypt, for Bill. In Brazil, for Alanza. France for Penny, and Japan for Tulip. His eyes lingered on one pin that had been stuck into the middle of the Carpathian Mountains in Romania.

“Is that one meant to be me?”

When Artemis nodded, Charlie reached up and pulled his pin out of the map.

“Hey!” Artemis’ eyes narrowed. “What did you do that for?”

“Because” — Charlie shrugged — “I’m here.”

He had thought that his answer would placate Artemis, but her face fell slightly, her lips tightening to a thin line.

“For now,” she said. Her voice was so quiet that it was barely audible over the noise from outside.

The pin was still in Charlie’s hand. He rolled the metal spike of it between his fingertips. He took a deep breath.

“Yeah. For now.”

They hadn’t spoken about what was going to happen once Charlie returned to Romania. He hadn’t even thought about what might happen once he returned, he had been too busy being happy about what was going on right now. It was ironic, really: when Magda had first suggested that he take a sabbatical, he hadn’t wanted to do it. She had needed to force him into what she thought would do him some good. It was only now that he believed it might have done just that, but now, he didn’t even want to think about leaving again.

“I don’t have to leave,” he said. “I could stay here. Get a job in the Ministry.”

“You’d hate that.”

There was no point in denying it. He would hate it. Still, he shrugged.

“I know, but I could do it. If you wanted me to, I would.”

Artemis shook her head. “I don’t want you to.”

Charlie didn’t ask her why not. He didn’t need to. He understood Artemis just as well as she understood him. Perhaps if she didn’t understand him so well, she would have wanted him to stay with her, to stay for her.

“Put the pin back, Charlie.”

She spoke firmly, but warmly, her voice not wavering. Charlie did as she asked him, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he placed the pin back into the map. Once he was done, he turned back to Artemis, who looked far less resolute than she had when he still had hold of the pin. He stroked her cheek with his thumb and kissed the top of her head.

“So, what happens next?” she asked him. Charlie didn’t know how to answer her.

“What do you want to happen?”

“I dunno, I just… I kind of want things to carry on as they are right now.” Artemis’ eyes drifted from Charlie’s hand, still resting against her face, to his lips, to the bedsheet that had fallen down to his hips again. Charlie couldn’t help but smile.

“I am definitely alright with that.”

“But after that…”

Artemis’ voice tailed off, and she looked the map. Charlie shook his head.

“I’ll come back. I always come back,” he said. “And you can come and visit me. And we can write. Same as before.”

“I missed you before.”

“Yeah. You too.” Charlie gave Artemis a half-hearted smile. “It’s a shame there are no maps for this, really.” When Artemis didn’t laugh, he sighed. “We’ll find a way to make it work somehow, eventually. And if we don’t… Well, at least we’ll have tried. And you’ll still be my best friend.”

“Really?”

“If I was going to get rid of you, I’d have done it before now.”

Artemis pulled a face at him, but at least she laughed this time.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Without warning, she pressed her lips to his. When she pulled away, she was almost smiling. “We’ll figure it out. We’ve got time.” She smiled. “One day at a time.”

“One day at a time,” Charlie repeated.

Their lips found one another’s again, but this time neither of them pulled away. Instead, their kisses deepened, and they each pulled the other closer, and closer, and closer. The morning sun shone down on their bodies as they once more became entangled beneath the skylight, bathing them in its warm, golden glow.

They might have crossed into a new territory, mapless, with no path to follow, but it didn’t matter. They were the other’s home, and the other’s adventure, and it didn’t matter where they were headed or what might happen next. They would figure it out. They would find their way. One day at a time. Together.

#artemis hexley #charlie weasley #harry potter fanfiction #hphm fic #hpff #charlie weasley x oc #the lights that never go out

[lemariee]

Chapter 18

Gerda paled as she nervously trailed behind Rayne with a thousand thoughts circling through her head. She had the urge to run down to her room but that was not an option. Borra certainly had no reason of having her in his chambers.

Her eyes scanned the new section of the castle they were in, noticing the gold walls and silver columns that connected to large arched windows. This floor seemed a lot more spacious. Her pulse grew loud in her ears as they walked into a large hallway that was decorated with gold and white marble walls. At the end of it she noticed a large door which only meant it was his room.

"I-I don't understand...why am I needed here?" Gerda asked with her voice trembling as she walked behind Rayne.

"Do you not recall him ordering you to accompany him or are you dim in the head? Perhaps he has other 'tasks' in mind for you." Rayne harshly said with a hint of disgust in her tone.

Gerda felt sick as she took in the double meaning behind Rayne's words. There was no indication he wanted to use her in such a way. Borra had made it clear that he would never think of her in that manner despite the tempting aroma her body gave off. Her steps faltered when they stopped in front of the door. She glanced at Rayne who was currently glaring at her with accusing, wary eyes.

"Borra is the leader of my people, if I find out you're seducing him with hidden motives I will personally kill you myself." Rayne threatened her with her eyes glowing.

"I would rather die than allow that creature to put his hands on me. I can completely assure you he has no intentions of sharing his bed with me." Gerda sternly said feeling sickened by Raynes accusation.

"You're assurance is not needed. It's obvious how dull you are compared to the beauty and power of Maleficent. Borra had his share of many whores so if he ever takes you in then know that's all you'll ever be to him. Maleficent is the only woman he has a future with and she has far more to offer him than some weak human scum." Rayne mockingly shared, causing anger to boil inside Gerda.

Gerda fiercely glared at her with balled up fists but the rage diminished once the door opened on its own after Rayne stood in front of it. She then pulled Gerda inside with a tight grip, nearly dragging her. Gerda flinched when the door closed behind them leaving her in a mess of nerves. She was taken aback by the large, intriguing room that felt alluring to her. The floors were made of smooth stone with a square pattern. She noticed the walls were also stone but decorated with smooth patterns that captured her attention with their beauty.

She carefully took several steps forward studying the columns that surrounded large, arched windows allowing a view of the vast range of forest and mountains. Her eyes noticed several steps leading into a massive pool of warm soapy water that was located in the center of the room.

Off to the corner of his room was a massive bed with red silky sheets and pillows neatly set on it. She was rather puzzled seeing a bed instead of some nest made of vines and leaves. It was said his kind typically slept in trees like wild birds.

Borra certainly slept like royalty despite him being a creature that came from nothing barely surviving off a hidden edge of the world. The room was simple with its breathtaking beauty and sensational interior. It held an ancient earthly beauty to it that was fitting to Borra's taste. Her eyes were drawn to the various plants that appeared to be latched onto every corner of the room giving it a tropical feel.

A gust of cool wind brought her attention to the most captivating feature of his chambers. At the very end of the room was a open space leading to a balcony with two curtains held off on each side by a gold serpentine tieback. Her breathing faltered when she noticed the outline of Borra standing at the large balustrade with his back facing her. His wings appeared relaxed behind him while his eerie, dark horns created a terrifying image. Her hands clenched together almost attempting to calm her panicky body. She was actually in 'his' chambers and it felt strange to her, almost forbidden.

"Leave us." Borra said with a strong, smooth voice that brought unease to Gerda.

Rayne threw Gerda a warning glare before turning and exiting the room. Gerda kept her eyes on the now closed door with the fear of facing Borra. She was currently weak, and not emotionally stable to handle his cruel tactics that he might have in store for her. Her body slowly turned back around with her eyes fixated on the floor once she heard the sound of him walking towards her. Gerda's hands trembled as they clenched together in front of her lower abdomen. The sound of her frantic heartbeat was all she heard when she felt his presence lingering in front of her.

"So much fear...for what?" Borra's silky low voice said, drawing Gerda's attention.

Gerda nervously glanced up at him with suspicion lurking in her blue eyes. She shouldn't be here, even back at her old kingdom it was deeply frowned upon for young women to be alone in a man's chambers. The whole concept was forbidden if they wanted to keep their name untarnished. Even though Borra was not human, it didn't change the fact that he was a male.

"B-Back in Ulstead...it was considered highly inappropriate for women to be alone in a man's chambers." Gerda sheepishly said with her voice quivering.

Borra studied her with blank eyes adding more fuel to the anxious emotions stirring around in Gerda. She felt stuck in place by his stare and that disturbed her to no end. This was a situation she wasn't prepared for.

"We're not in Ulstead so the rules there do not apply here." Borra smoothly said, causing Gerda's eyes to widen in fear.

"Why am I here? I do not understand why you requested my presence here of all places." Gerda timidly asked, taking a step away from him.

Borra's eyes flickered down to the hem of her dress when he noticed her feet cautiously stepping back. He then glanced back up at her face with amusement in his eyes. She felt as if he was purposely toying with her emotions as some sick form of entertainment.

"I did not request you here to inflict harm upon you if that's what you're insinuating. I would like you to undo my gear. Think of this as an exchange of trust between one another." Borra responded, motioning to the straps that connected to the harness and leather shoulder pauldrons on him.

Gerda froze feeling her body grow numb and brittle by his unexpected request. For a second she couldn't breath nor move. Thoughts did not flow in her brain while she failed to process why he would want her to do such a thing. He was putting far too much trust in her when all she had to do was pull out the thorn between her breasts and stab him in the heart.

The fact that she was alone with him and his strange request left her mind wondering if he just might have certain motives in mind for her. Or perhaps he knew about the secret weapon she carried. He could be testing her as a means of having more reason to kill her.

"I am not a woman of loose morals so if you have those 'type' of intentions with me then–" Gerda attempted to say but was then cut off by Borra's mocking laughter.

"Don't even bother finishing that statement, I certainly do 'not' want your body if that's what troubles you. I don't share my bed with human whores and never will. Enough with your idiotic assumptions." Borra said with a disgusted look on his face.

Her feet moved on their own accord as she forced her body to obey his baffling command and almost instantly did his scent overpower her. Gerda felt her breathing speed up when she felt the warmth from his body radiating onto her cold skin. She shakenly raised her hands and felt the buzz of tingles on her fingers as they came into contact with his bare chest.

She suddenly became aware of how much skin he always had exposed. Just as she was about to reach for the strap that hugged over his shoulder; a golden, tiny bell shaped object piqued her interest as it glinted in the light. The strange object was firmly attached to the strap as if it held a special meaning.

Her mind was muddled with many thoughts as she undid the first strap that hugged his chest. He was solid to the touch and almost feverish with his body heat warming up her cold, tender hands. She could not control the red blush that took its dominant place on her usual pale cheeks. Gerda was never one to pay attention to a man's physique nor has she ever put any thought into it.

She couldn't stop her eyes from gliding over the strange, hard texture of his pale skin that appeared cracked in some places. He was decorated with various scars that faded into his skin, giving him the appearance of fresh cracked marble. It all indicated that he had been through many battles and was perhaps a skilled fighter. She wondered how something could be so beautifully flawed yet unique in its own nature.

It felt abnormal to be this close to his body without him being aggressive or lashing out at her. This was the first time Gerda had ever been in such proximity to his kind unless she was killing them. Yet here one was, tamed and calm right before her like a leashed animal.

She couldn't bring herself to kill him, not at the moment. Her mind was far too distracted with studying him like some kind of painting that had a hidden puzzle to decipher within it. She always been one who studied their kind like the wild beasts they were.

Her hands moved to undo the second strap that was near his rib, allowing her to get a closer look at his toned abs which in turn made her stomach unnaturally flutter. She instinctively wanted to trace them. Out of curiosity she wondered how the texture would feel. Of course she would never do it unless she wanted to risk broken fingers or loosing a hand. She reminded herself that he was equivalent to a untamed animal.

Instead her fingers continued their task, trying to avoid brushing his skin again. However, the mere thought of it drew out various emotions that she was unfamiliar with. It was as if her body was deeply drawn to his and that alone terrified her.

She couldn't understand what this strange pull was but it lingered down to her core. It was a longing, primal need that only grew with the more time she spent near him. Gerda then backed away breaking the invisible rope that lured her body to his. She was sickened by it and wanted to wash her hands as if she had committed a mortal sin. It only made her despise him even more for simply existing in the same space as her. He was disgusting and vile. An abomination to nature itself.

Her eyes flickered up to his once she was a good three feet away. Borra stared at her for several seconds with dark amber eyes before pulling at the straps, allowing his leather pauldrons to fall onto the floor. Gerda nervously shifted her eyes off to the side feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment and shyness. He seemed too bare for her and she found herself growing uncomfortable. Borra appeared to have caught on to her nervous behavior and stared at her with mild curiosity.

"Have you not seen a bare man before?" Borra asked as if he presumed Gerda had, earning a bashful expression from her.

"I...No, I have not." Gerda muttered feeling her blush intensify as his eyes studied her with a hint of interest.

"So you have never been with a man?" Borra smoothly asked after a moment of silence with a dark glint in his eyes.

Gerda had never felt so exposed in her life, especially in front of a creature who should not be able to draw out such emotions in her. She was a virgin and had not thought much about it till now. Her body had never been touched or explored by a man nor did she ever crave for such distracting affections.

"I only focused on my duties to my kingdom so I had no time for such useless desires." Gerda softly said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Borra's eyes greedily overlooked Gerda's body before glancing back up to her face causing Gerda to shift in an apprehensive manner. She felt a sprinkle of fear growing within her wondering what was going through his mind. He said he would never touch her in a suggestive manner.

"You mean the duties that involved the downfall and slaughtering of my people? Quite the dedicated little worker you were to give up such pleasures in life." Borra bluntly said with his animalistic eyes on her.

"I have my reasons for doing what I did to your people just like you have your reasons for hating humans." Gerda admitted trying to keep painful memories of her past from resurfacing.

"I have a long list of reasons as to why I despise your kind but surely you wouldn't understand. The atrocities and genocide committed upon my people go back long before you were born. You all should be wiped out." Borra hissed at her.

"So that's it then? Hold all humans accountable for the crimes committed by a few? I understand the hatred you feel with me but many have never shed fey blood. You're completely invalidating the innocent human blood that was shed by your kind." Gerda said with her eyes trailing off to the side of him as the memories of a screaming young boy flashed in her mind.

Borra silently studied her for a moment with his now deep golden gaze roaming over her face. She felt vulnerable whenever he looked at her like that. The topic was now heading towards territory in her mind that she had preferred buried away from the world. He then walked up to her till his body was a foot away. Gerda swallowed her mixed emotions as she nervously stared up at him trying to ignore the bareness of his torso.

"You're all the same to me...deceiving, selfish, greedy, and 'weak'. Humans destroy everything they touch, not caring who gets caught in the middle of their thirst for power. You don't know what it's like to lose everything and everyone you love to heartless creatures and slowly see the growing extinction of your people. Don't speak to me about innocence." Borra angrily whispered to Gerda with his eyes boring into hers.

Gerda briefly observed the emotion of pain in his eyes that made her feel obligated to speak a bit of her truth. He was displaying emotions that she didn't think was possible of him. She came to realize that she was part of the reason he held so much hate towards humans. She was part of the problem.

"I-I killed many of your people...I did it for a kingdom who all this time held such little regard for me. I'm the one you should blame. Don't hold resentment towards those of my people who had nothing to due with the slaughter of yours. Let your hate end with me." Gerda softly said with pleading eyes.

Borra's expression faltered at her words almost as if he wasn't expecting them. He stared down at her with hesitance and lingering remnants of his previous pain. She realized that he was showing a vulnerable part of himself to her. She took a deep breath before continuing on with her words.

"And you're wrong about me not knowing what it's like to lose everything...I know 'exactly' what it's like." Gerda said taking in his shift of mixed emotions that now flowed around in his eyes.

Borra appeared taken aback by Gerda's unexpected admission to him. His eyes gazed down at her almost as if he was trying to make sense of what she was telling him. They then slowly shifted down to the bare, exposed skin of her shoulders and neck before glancing back up to her face. He suddenly blinked away and took a quick glance towards his straps and pauldrons that laid on the floor behind him.

"Take those to Rayne and have her escort you back to your room, I'm expecting company. You are dismissed for today." Borra roughly said with a hungry glint in his hard eyes as he stared at her.

Gerda immediately followed his commands and rushed over to grab the straps and cuffs from the ground. Without a single look at him she turned and swiftly walked out his chambers feeling relieved. She was met by Rayne who keenly studied Gerda with prying eyes that made her feel guilty for something she had not done which only irritated her.

"I did not lay with him if that's what you're concerned about. We merely exchanged words before he dismissed me to my room." Gerda explained with a clipped tone.

"I know. You would've been drenched with his scent if you had, which brings up the question of why he would request your presence with no intentions of laying with you. Borra only calls women to his chambers for lustful purposes. What could he possibly want with 'you'?" Rayne asked in a condescending voice as she looked Gerda over with criticizing eyes.

"I don't know, perhaps to keep him company while he waits for his lady 'friend' to arrive. Either way he does not see me in that sense so that alone should ease your worries. Now please take me to my room." Gerda said growing more irritated by Rayne with each passing second.

"I still don't trust you so despite what you say I will be keeping my eye on you. Now hand me those." Rayne said with cautious eyes before walking up to Gerda and snatching Borra's belongings from her.

She then motioned for Gerda to follow her without a single word or glance. They both traveled in silence down the hall and onto the magical tube that then took them down to the first floor. Gerda found herself thinking over the fact that Borra had trusted her within his own personal chambers. She pondered over why he would do such a thing. None of it made sense and it made her wonder why she didn't kill him when she had the chance.

"Celtra should be waiting inside for you. Clean yourself up and prepare for dinner." Rayne sternly said before turning to walk away.

Gerda rolled her eyes at her rude behavior before pushing against the door to her room. She wondered why it didn't magically open for her like it did for everyone else. She shrugged the thought away and entered her room with the need to lie down. However, that was put aside when she noticed a calculating Celtra sitting on the armchair by her fireplace. Gerda closed the door behind her and proceeded to sit on her bed sighing once the soft material came in contact with her hands.

"So how was your first day with Borra?" Celtra asked with interest as if she was some adolescent.

"Exhausting, vexing, and gloomy. Just as I expected it to be with him." Gerda truthfully answered as she recalled the betrayal she felt at the tavern.

"Now you know I'm going to need more details then that. There had to be something of interest that happened." Celtra insisted as she pressed Gerda for more information.

"He requested my presence in his chambers...I found it very odd of him." Gerda said feeling her cheeks warm up at the memory of being near him.

"That surely is very odd of him, what was the reason he requested you for?" Celtra asked with curiosity and a hint of excitement.

Gerda furrowed her brows when she realized she didn't have the slightest clue as to why he requested her. They spoke a few words after she removed his gear but that was it. He claimed that the purpose was an exchange of trust but she found herself puzzled by it.

Surely to her, it was a test of trust because she had the perfect opportunity to kill him but didn't. However, there was no way he would know about the secret weapon she had hidden within her bodice. It was impossible for him to know otherwise he would have her thrown in a dungeon.

"I'm not quite sure...he claimed it to be an exchange of trust and asked me to remove his gear." Gerda silently said, pondering over the strange colloquy between her and Borra.

"What a curious request for him to ask of you. He typically does that himself so I agree with you on it being quite odd. I suppose it was to be an exchange of trust but I'm sure there are other means he could've went by for that purpose." Celtra thought out loud, only adding onto Gerda's interpretation of Borra's request.

"I hope this doesn't become repetitive of him, I don't feel comfortable with the idea of me lingering around in his chambers. I'd prefer my name remain untainted especially with him having a reputation for seducing women." Gerda confessed feeling concerned with the thought of rumors going around about her and Borra.

"As you had admitted before, he has a strong hate for you so perhaps that could protect your name from being ruined by such rumors." Celtra said in deep thought.

Gerda's fingers traced a pattern on her bed as she recalled what Borra had admitted to her back at the tavern. She felt a bit on the edge when he confirmed being able to detect her strange alluring scent that seemed to attract other fey.

"There was something else that happened." Gerda hesitantly said instantly gaining Celtra's attention.

She paused trying to find the words to explain her predicament but struggled. Celtra appeared to grow impatient as she eagerly starred at Gerda with mild excitement. Gerda sighed and continued on with what she had to say.

"I had asked him about why his kind appeared drawn to my scent. He explained how it was due to my body releasing a fertile aroma that fey women typically carry as exceptional mates." Gerda said feeling the previous disgust return before swallowing it down to continue her story.

"I then asked if he too was detecting this scent on me and...the answer was yes." Gerda finished noticing the sudden interest and curiosity grow in Celtra's eyes.

"That would explain his strange possessive behavior towards you at times. It's within our nature to seek the most suitable mates who carry the highest chance at producing strong, powerful offspring. Though it makes no sense as to how you're carrying this scent since you are clearly human." Celtra said with her brows furrowed in confusion.

"That's why I feel it's important to get to the bottom of this. He seems to not care about my predicament but I refuse to ignore it. There has to be some kind of explanation as to why this is happening to me." Gerda desperately voiced.

"Us fey and humans have been at war for a long time over land and resources. This rare phenomenon happening to you might be the key for our kind to ensure its survival." Celtra explained trying to make sense of Gerda's predicament.

"What you're suggesting is absolutely impossible and even then I am repulsed by the thought of it. Fey and humans are not meant to blend bloodlines, it's all maddening to even put thought into. I refuse to believe this nonsense." Gerda said with panic and disgust rising within her.

The sound of her door opening interrupted Gerda and Celtra's conversation. Both their heads turned to look at Rayne as she stood at the entrance with her head held high. Gerda resisted the urge to scorn her for not knocking.

#borra #dark romance #disney #fanfic #gerda #maleficent #maleficent 2 #maleficent: mistress of evil #dark fae #disney fanfiction #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #enemies to soulmates #fae #fandom #fantasy #fey #m:moe #mature #romance #writing #fanfiction

[shadowthrone-ammanas]

'Life' as a Ghost Drabbles: Dumb Idea

Summary: Due to time travel shenanigans, Snatcher finds himself in a strangely familiar position- Kid Lukas: “Are you the monster under my bed? I just want someone to talk to.”

~

Hat Kid had stressed quite stringently the dangers of changing the past so maybe this was a bad idea. But ever since their trip to the past thanks to Mu and Moonjumper, Snatcher hadn’t quite been able to get it out of his mind. He wasn’t going to touch or talk to anyone though, in fact he was going to stay invisible the whole time because he just wanted to see the forest and the town prior to the Big Freeze.

To avoid temptation he’d even done his best to land in a time period before he’d been born. How accurate he’d come to that was hard to say but upon floating invisibly into town and checking a news stand he found mention of Queen Marsi, Vanessa's mother if he recalled correctly, being in charge so he was probably in good shape. He was free to explore a little.

The town was… well, the town. Once he’d thought it nothing special and by modern standards it certainly wasn’t but now it felt weird to float through. Like it was a fictional place instead of a real one. All the people wondering through – far less than most modern towns housed – felt fake too, like actors walking through a movie set.

Perhaps coming here had been a mistakes for more reasons than he’d originally thought. And yet, he kept going, deftly avoiding folk, hiding in the shadows. He just needed to get this out of his system. He’d go the castle, poke around a bit and then…

That house across the street… he knew it and the houses surrounding it. His childhood home. Wow, he hadn’t thought about it in so long he wouldn’t have been able to describe it or say with any accuracy where it had been located if someone had asked him to. But that was it for sure.

He quickly looked both ways, ensuring no horse drawn carriages would be coming through, before crossing over. A quick poke around here and then to the castle would surely be fine.

Inside, the living room was uncomfortably familiar. Worse than that though was the even more uncomfortably familiar humming coming from the kitchen. This was a dumb idea! What the peck was he thinking? He should leave. … He didn’t though.

Instead, to get away from the humming, he phased through the nearest interior wall. Landing him in… his old room. Seems he’d been a bit off in his attempt to land in a time before he’d been born because this was his room. A younger version of himself sat in the middle of the bed, playing with a couple stuffed animals.

“Hello?” Kid Lukas said, looking up. His eyes slid over but didn’t quite catch on where Snatcher hung frozen in the air invisible. “Someone there?”

Seems Snatcher had always had a connection to the supernatural. Not that being able to sense the presence of a ghost was particularly uncommon especially with how powerful he was. A very good reason to leave immediately though. But… he didn’t.

The temptation to warn this kid about Vanessa was stronger than he’d thought it’d be. So much pain and suffering could’ve been avoided if he’d just kept his ambition in check and hadn’t decided to start courting her in hopes of being king one day. Technically he’d gotten what he’d wanted of course but… the cost, not just to himself but to the kingdom as a whole, was a lot to say the least. And it could all be avoided with just a little bit of advice given to a child.

“Are you the monster under my bed? I wanted someone to talk to which is why I summoned you. It took you a while to show up but that’s okay. I get lost sometimes too.”

Right, yeah, now that he thought about it, Snatcher did have vague memories of trying to summon a monster to live under his bed. Hadn’t he also at some point been convinced he’d succeeded? If that was the case then maybe playing along a bit and giving just a little bit of advice to try to mitigate how bad the whole Vanessa thing was wouldn’t cause too many disastrous consequences?

No, no, no. He shouldn’t risk it. Unless… no. Being here where he was so tempted was stupid but he wasn’t a complete idiot. He fled, floating up through the ceiling to avoid any more unpleasant surprises. Instead of all this, he would just float around in the forest for a bit before heading back to his own time. … Maybe he would explore the castle a little bit too as he’d originally been planning.

#my writing #ahit #a hat in time #ghost kid #ghost kid drabbles #snatcher

[ladycatofwinterfell]

How about modern au nedcat magically goes back in time to canon universe and they meet canon nedcat. There’s a lot of confusion and shit goes down. I imagine the Neds will fight a lot because modern ned thinks that canon Ned is too stuck up and canon Ned thinks that modern Ned is a weirdo. Also they sometimes mix up who’s partner is who and then confusing sexy times ensue.

Absolutely loved the suggestion! This drabble will only be the beginning of their weird adventure together, further shenanigans will come in the future. Enjoy!

Catelyn’s head was pounding before she even opened her eyes, a dull ache behind her eyes. Had she managed to come down with something? Because it certainly felt that way. It had to be sinusitis. She hadn’t had alcohol the previous day, it had just been a common Wednesday, and she had felt just fine so there was no other reason for her headache.

No alarm was ringing, she realised as she became more awake, she must have woken up from the headache. She had to get a painkiller, she couldn’t live with that for longer then necessary.

So she opened her eyes, blinked herself awake, and found that she wasn’t in her room.

It took a moment for her to remember how one breathed as she let her gaze wander around in the room. It seemed like a room that didn’t belong in her time. Stone walls, dusty wooden floors, a large fireplace that was also made of stone. The bed she was in was canopied, the bedposts were intricately carved and instead of blankets there were furs. Her phone wasn’t on the bedside table, instead there was a heavy leather bound book and a candle. Sun came into the room from high windows on one wall. There were two doors, both made of heavy wood. Where did they lead?

At first she was so struck by wonder that no questions appeared in her mind, she just looked around at everything in the room. Then inevitably she came to her senses and began asking herself how the fuck she had ended up there. And where the hell she was.

When she sat up her hand almost on reflex began reaching out to her side, finding Ned’s shoulder and shaking if. He was next to her, he was there. She wasn’t alone, that was always something.

“Ned! Wake up!”

“I hear no alarm, what’s the matter?” he muttered.

“I don’t know, open your eyes and see for yourself.”

Clearly annoyed by her he rolled to his back and did as she said.

“What the fuck?”

He sat up, as well, looking around the room with wide eyes and his mouth slightly open. They sat in silence for a long while as he just looked around.

“Where are we?” he then asked, looking at her.

“If only I could have told you” Catelyn responded.

She got out of the bed and found that the seemingly only thing that was right then and there was that she was still wearing what she had worn when she fall asleep. A pair of pyjama shorts and one of Ned’s t-shirts. Ned was only in his underwear, always too warm to wear anything to bed.

Slowly she walked over to the window to see if maybe she could find something outside that might give them a clue. She was left even more confused. Below them was a large courtyard and there were lots of people doing different things, all dressed in what she would have called medieval fashion. She saw a man practicing sword fighting with several young boys, someone led two horses, boxes and chests were carried towards another building with large wooden doors. High walls surrounded it, and there had to be even more buildings on other sides of the one they were in.

“A castle. We’re in a castle” she said.

“A castle?” Ned asked.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the scene below her, only heard as Ned came up behind her.

“What sort of place is this? Why is everyone dressed like that?” he continued.

So many questions and not a single answer. Her headache was gone, but she couldn’t claim to be feeling well. Was she hallucinating? It was too vivid to be a dream, she was awake, but still something was very wrong.

“What should we do?” she sighed.

Could they leave the room? Who were all those people? Could someone help them get home, could someone tell them where they were? Did someone know what had happened to them? Could someone explain?

Before Ned gave an answer to her question one of the doors flung open. Both of them spun around, Catelyn almost thought her heart had stopped beating for a moment from the surprise.

In came a man and a woman, almost wrapped around one another in what could only be described as a passionate kiss. The woman backed the man up against the door, making it close. Both were dressed in the same fashion as the people they had seen outside, though their clothes were fancier. The woman’s dress was blue instead of a dull grey or brown and seemed to be made of a finer material. The man’s clothes were hard to see as the woman was in the way. She had the same red hair as Catelyn had, though very intricately braided back. Catelyn wondered if she had done those braids herself.

She couldn’t say a word, could only stand there and stare at the couple. Ned, on the other hand, regained his composure despite his almost naked state and cleared his throat.

“Excuse us.”

The woman whipped around and let out a yelp as she saw them. As did Catelyn, because she discovered that not only did the woman have her hair. She also had her exact face. It was like looking into a mirror.

“Holy fuck” Catelyn whispered.

She didn’t know what else to say, no words were large enough to express what she was feeling as she looked upon an exact copy of herself. Hopefully someone would take her to the hospital, she was hallucinating.

The woman grabbed the man’s arm and took a step backwards as if she wanted to be shielded from them. When she did so Catelyn looked at him. Somehow she was just as surprised when she saw Ned staring back at her. His hair was longer and had more grey in it. The same went for his beard, though it was still neatly trimmed. Half of his hair was tied back and he had small braids with silvery beads. Though there was no doubt about that he was the same as Ned.

“What sorcery is this?” the woman asked. “Who are you?”

Her expression went from surprise to something more guarded.

“We can’t answer the first question, we don’t know why we’re here or why we look the same as you” Catelyn said, glad that she had found her voice. “But I’m Catelyn Tully Stark and this is Eddard, my husband.”

“You want us to believe that you know nothing of how you ended up in Lady Catelyn’s chambers when you carry our appearances and our names?” the man almost growled. “Are you a witch?”

The cold reservation in the woman wasn’t mirrored in him, he was angry.

“You have to believe us, we just woke up here” Ned tried. “We don‘t want to be here, we want to go home and we won’t hurt you.”

They had nothing to hurt them with, they were in what they had worn to bed and had nothing else.

“Call for the guards” the woman said in a low voice.

“No!” Catelyn exclaimed, holding up her hands. “Please don’t hurt us, he’s telling the truth. We don’t know anything, we just want to get home to our kids.”

She really didn’t want to be arrested, the situation sucked enough as it was.

“Your what?” the man asked.

“Our kids. Our children. Please.”

The woman seemed to soften just a little at the mention of the kids. She didn’t leave her spot, stayed almost hidden behind the man, but there was less suspicion in her eyes.

“Do you have children?” she said.

“Five of them” Ned told her. “Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon.”

“Those names are the names of our children” the man said coolly. “Why should we believe what you say? What speaks against you being evil sorcerers who have taken our names and faces?”

Absolutely fucking nothing and that was an issue. What could they say? They were telling the truth, they had no idea about anything. But that also meant that they had very little to say in their defence.

“Nothing, I guess, but we promise not to cause trouble. All we want is to get home.”

“Where is your home?”

“We are from Winterfell.”

“You are in Winterfell.”

They were in a place called Winterfell, but it was wrong. That wasn’t there home, she wasn’t even sure if they were in the right world anymore. The time couldn’t be the same, could it? They hadn’t known what kids meant.

“I’m sorry, this isn’t our Winterfell” Catelyn said. “We don’t live in a castle.”

“I do not know what we should do with you, and we might be making a horrible mistake, but you can stay here until you can find your way to your home” the woman said. “Though gods be good, this is strange. I am not sure I am sane.”

“Though you shall not be allowed to leave this chamber” the man added. “While you insist you will do us no harm we cannot trust you.”

Catelyn wanted to ask how they were supposed to get home if they were locked up in a room, but she bit down on her tongue and nodded. She wasn’t stupid, she did realise that maybe just keeping her mouth shut was best. She had no power whatsoever and the other her and the other Ned had nothing to gain from being kind to them. They could just kill them, apparently they had guards to call upon.

“We understand how strange this is and we ensure you of that we are just as confused by this as you are, if not more so.”

“Are you in need of clothing?” the woman asked, looking them up and down.

There was a disdain in her voice that Catelyn was irritated by, but once more she just kept silent about that.

“We are” Catelyn said.

“Then we shall provide you with it.”

It was insane, everything about it was absolutely insane. Though at least she would get clothes.

#can’t wait to write more of this it was fun #the dynamics between them and another version of themselves was fun to think about #and there are so many scenarios to play around with #catelyn stark #catelyn tully #ned stark #ned x cat #my drabble #modern au/canon fic

[s-creations]

The Forgotten - Chapter 2 'In Which Discussions Are Had & Plans Are (Sort Of) Made'

The BeanBean Kingdom has lived peacefully for centuries, due to the wild ocean and towering mountains that surround them. No one being able to get in or out. Which makes it strange when a stranger enters the kingdom, but not in an expected way.

Close to death and with little memories about his previous life, Peasley has to uncover where this 'L' came from. As well as who would want to hurt this confused human.

Fandom: Super Mario & Related Fandoms Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Relationships: Luigi & Mario (Nintendo), Luigi/Prince Peasley Warnings/Additional Tags: Luigi don't remember who he is, AU to Super Star Saga, There will be mentions of torture, PTSD, Bowser's gonna be intense in this, At least far more than in comparison to the games, Mario's a worried older brother, It's a dangerous game of cat and mouse

The announcement of a possible intruder did cause a ripple of fear to travel through the kingdom. Just as predicted. However, the citizens also responded with determination. Wanting to do what was possible to keep themselves safe. Numerous volunteers stepped forward to act as watchmen. Anything to bring awareness of any possible dangers to their home. 

None aware of the unexpected guest to the secluded kingdom.

Said guest had yet to wake. Even with Dr. Pinto giving positive daily updates, the human hadn’t stirred once. To Peasley, who had stopped by every morning as part of his duties, he couldn’t see much improvement. Granted he wasn’t the castle's physician. But the human was just as pale and frail as when he was first discovered. 

The first noticeable change came about a week later, when the human’s cheeks started carrying a red hue to them. Peasley, upon arriving for that morning’s check in, quickly placed his books and paperwork aside on the small bedside table. Reaching out without a second thought and cupping the cheeks carefully. Shocked to feel warmth emitting from them. 

“Dr. Pinto!” Peasley frantically called out. Eyes quickly scanning to see if he could find any other issues. Not looking away from the sleeping form as he hears footsteps draw closer. 

“Your highness, what’s wrong?”

“The cheeks, they’re red, why are they red? And burning! I-Is he sick now too? What’s happening?” 

“Prince Peasley, I need you to please calm yourself…and release my patient’s face.” Peasley was not pleased with how flustered he felt being caught cradling a stranger’s face. Stepping away slightly as Dr. Pinto positioned himself on the other side of the medical bed. “Rosie cheeks and warmth is a good thing. It informs us that our patient here has regained enough of his own blood. This will help in his recovery.”

“So…this is a good thing.” “Absolutely. He’s still in a heavy recovery period. But this tells me that he’s over a big hurdle. It may still be a while longer before he wakes again, however.”

Peasley tapped the metal bar on the bed, eyes still on the sleeping form. “You mentioned blood. What is that?”

“It’s the human equivalent of our sap, what keeps him alive.”

“And that’s why his cheeks are red?”

“Yes, because his blood is red. Seeing flushed cheeks is a sign of good health…or the human is cold and attempting to regulate body heat. But I assure you, this means he’s recovering well.”

The prince falters slightly. Getting a sudden flash of memory, when he first found the human under the mudslide. “There..was red. Under his nose and from the corner of his mouth.”

“That would have been blood.”

The answer seemed to cause Peasley’s stomach to churn. Arms moved to wrap around his midsection, as if it would offer some self-comfort. “How…could anyone be so cruel to another living being?”

“Sire…this is not meant to be a negative mark against your life. But there are evil, truly evil people out there. I’m sorry to say that this is a very negative first experience to the world outside of our walls.”

“It’s…It can’t be helped. A situation no one in this room has any control over. I’m content in knowing he is in our care.” Peasley commented calmly. Reaching out once more to gently brush the human’s hair to the side. “I will say though that I’m discontent with waiting. I wish I was able to help more than just…check in.”

“You could read to him,” Pinto laughed softly at Peasley’s raised brow, “I’m not sure why it works. But patients in comas or heavy states of unconsciousness have reported hearing people talking to them while they sleep. Saying that hearing voices helped them wake up. Sort of like leading them out of a fog.”

“All I have are farmland reports and housing requests.”

“I think our human friend here would prefer something a little different than legal documents. Try fiction, entertainment if you will.”

“Very well, I’ll start tomorrow. It might put me a bit more at ease until he wakes up. …Dr. Pinto?”

“Yes, your highness?”

“How did you know he was human?”

“As a doctor, I have to be ready to help any patient that’s presented to me. I don’t know a lot about them, as not much has been written in either the medical or social aspects of these beings. Humans are very rare for this world.”

“How are they here then?”

“I’m unsure… I’ve heard that one of the kingdoms is actually ruled by a human.”

Peasley perked up at this. “Which kingdom?”

Pinto gave himself a few moments to think before answering, “I…believe it’s the Mushroom Kingdom.”

“I may be drawing a wrong conclusion,” Peasley bit his lip, “But could this kingdom know of our patient?”

That gave the doctor another pause. “...It could be possible. If anything we can’t rule it out. The problem will be how we can get a message out to them. The old walkways out of the mountains have been blocked for centuries.”

“Our patient got in somehow.”

“I certainly don’t want to go the way he did.”

“Ah…fair.”

“But bring this up with the Queen,” Pinto continued, “She may know of another way to get the message out. In any event, it’s a place to start.”

“I’ll go talk with her now about it. Thank you Dr. Pinto. I’ll be back later with a book in hand.” Grabbing his papers from the small table, Peasley left. 

When the topic of the Mushroom Kingdom, namely with the idea of sending a message, Queen Bean was in favor. “I’m not sure why I didn’t think of this before.”

“Do you know the ruler there?” Peasley asked. 

“No, nor do I know the previous rulers. But I was aware of the humans ruling over a kingdom from my own parents. Millennia ago, we apparently had a relationship with the Mushroom Kingdom, trading purposes mainly. Before the paths out of our kingdom were blocked.”

“Why…were they blocked?” 

Queen Bean looked over to her curious son. “I wish I could give you an acceptable answer. But the most I was ever told was that it was for our kingdom’s protection.”

“From what?”

“I wish I knew.”

_____________________________

…Was…he dead?

No…pretty sure death meant nothing…

And he was thinking…

That must count for something…

So…if he wasn’t dead…

Where was he?

Maybe he was just asleep… How long had he been asleep?

Because he felt so heavy, absolutely weak. But why?

What had happened?

Was he-

Wait.

Who was he?

Why couldn’t he remember anything?

‘...turn from your battle, that’s all I ask. 

I’ll do what I can. I’ll do everything that I can do to return to you.’

Who…was that?

Their voice was unfamiliar. Which really meant nothing as he remembered very little to begin with. 

But what were they saying? It was strange, as if they were talking to themselves. Just carrying their own conversation. Were they…reading? Why were they reading? Were they reading to him?

Even after the cart disappeared over the horizon, Mellisa hoped that it would return. To bring her beloved back to her. But the hours passed and the house remained as empty as before. 

This was so confusing.

He really wished he could figure out what was going on.

But everything still felt so heavy.

He attempted to let out a groan of frustration. All that came out however was a small squeak of a sound. His throat felt absolutely raw with something blocking his mouth. The nearby reading suddenly stopped, now hearing someone shuffling. He couldn’t help but wince when something warm and soft was pressed against his cheek. Unable to tilt towards the soft touch. It felt so foreign for some reason. 

“Dr. Pinto, he’s waking up!” The reading voice called out desperately. 

He released a small whine as he took a deep breath in. Slowly opening his eyes to find the world an absolute blurred mess. Shifting his attention to a moving figure leaning over him. Skin a vivid green, warm brown eyes furrowed in worry, golden shoulder length hair, dressed in brilliant white garments. It was this person’s hand that was resting on his cheek. 

Who…Who were they?

They disappeared before he could dwell on that. Now more people entered his vision. All saying something quickly towards each other, he wasn’t able to keep up. His mind eventually offered that they were probably doctors or something similar. The one who was giving the majority of the orders (this being Dr. Pinto possibly?) gave a few more notes before turning to him. 

“Hey, can you hear me?” The doctor asked calmly. He could only reply back with another small moan. But that was enough to answer the other. “Good, good. I need you to take deep breaths through your nose. We’ll be removing something from your mouth…”

He attempted to comply, wincing as something large was extracted from his mouth. Quickly gulping down air when his chin was released. 

“Calm down, slow deep breaths for me, you’re doing great. Keep giving me those slow breaths. We’re going to sit you up a bit further.”

He closed his eyes as the world shifted around him. Only opening them when the bed settled once more. He was surprised at how large the room was. An elongated hallway style that held enough room that both sides held two rows of medical beds. Each having a small side table and curtained partitions. All other beds were empty. 

Tucked into the corner, near where he was currently resting, was a large room. Numerous windows outlined the area, acting more like walls than windows, all blocked off with thick curtains. Unable for outside viewers to see what was inside. He could only assume it was an office space for the medical team.

He was pulled away from his musings when a glass of water was gently pressed to his lips. Greedily sucking down the cool liquid, soothing his rough and swollen throat. The glass was pulled away sooner than he wanted. Until he realized that he needed to breathe again. 

“You’re okay. We’re not going to deprive you. But you need to pace yourself.”

He took a few deep breaths, calming himself before choking out. “W-Where…am I?”

Dr. Pinto seemed surprised to hear the other talk, but quickly responded with, “The BeanBean Kingdom’s castle, specifically the infirmary wing. Does the name sound familiar to you?”

He frowned, thinking as well as his foggy mind would allow. “No…it doesn’t… I’m sorry…”

“You’re fine. No worries. Do you think you could tell me your name?”

Tingling on the edge of his consciousness, he felt the beginning build up of panic. “N-No…”

There was a flash of concern over Dr. Pinto’s face that was quickly buried back down. Pulling his calm smile back and replying with, “Okay, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay. Can you tell me anything about yourself?”

He swallowed weakly, eyes traveling over the white walls as he racked his brain. Was there anything he could remember? It was all just a blur. A dim, muted blur. That was bad, right? How could it not be? Is it even possible to just not remember a single thing about his own life? “I…I can’t- I don’t…remember…”

Peasley, who had stood aside when the medical team arrived, frowned hearing how heartbroken the humans sounded. Attempting to figure out how he could help in this situation. But what could he possibly do? 

The answer arrived when his eyes landed on a familiar green cap resting on the small bedside table. One that had been washed and carefully tended to since the human arrived. The prince picked said garment up and stepped around Dr. Pinto. Giving what he hoped was a gentle smile as blue eyes turned to him. 

“This is yours, right?”

The human’s eyes widened slightly upon seeing said cap. “That’s mine… Yeah, that’s mine…”

“There’s an ‘L’ embroidered on it. Does your name start with ‘L’?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah… Yes, I think so…”

“Can we call you that for now?”

“...I-I’d like that, yes…”

Peasley smiled softly, placing the cap under L’s less injured hand. “Well, L, I do wish our first meeting was under better circumstances. But I welcome you to the BeanBean Kingdom. I am Prince Peasley.”

L gave a wobbly smile in return. “T-Thank you…”

There was a moment of silence as L’s attention went back to the green cap. Thumb slowly running over the letter. When another flash of something entered his mind. 

“Mario.”

Peasley inched closer at this. “Who’s Mario?”

“I don’t know… But I need to find him…”

_____________________________

“L, the name our guest has been asked to be called, is recovering well. While his intake of food and drink is minimal and very slow, I'm happy to know that he’s able to keep things down,” Dr. Pinto sighed before looking up to Queen Bean, “But now we have another issue. L remembers very little. What we are aware of is that the green cap does belong to him, his name starts with ‘L’, and he’s looking for someone named Mario.”

“Another human?” the queen asked. 

“I can only assume. I’m not aware of this person however.”

“Neither am I… What are our next steps?”

“I will continue to work towards L’s full mental and physical recovery. A new concern now is understanding what prompted the memory loss.” 

“Do you have a theory about what caused it?” Peasley asked. 

The doctor shifted. “As stated before, due to the placement and clearly purposeful intentions behind the wounds, L was tortured. I’m theorizing that the memory loss was a sort of safety measure. A way to keep himself feeling somewhat safe. The items he has clung to are those he determined that are most important.” 

“Do you think his memories will come back?”

“That is a dangerous question. Ideally, yes, getting his memories back could happen and would be beneficial. But recalling what’s befallen him, this may cause further damage. As well as his own mind will cause stress if we or anyone forces him to try and remember. It will be best if we ease him into pulling his memories back.”

Peasley frowned, tapping his finger on the handle of his sword before looking towards his mother. “Have you decided if it would be possible to send a letter to the Mushroom Kingdom?”

Queen Bean gave a short sigh but nodded. “It’s currently our best move to figure out a solution. However, it will take time to plan a way safely out of our kingdom. If it even is possible. As well as deciding what we even write about.” 

“What do you mean?”

“We’re in the middle of a great unknown,” Lady Lima answered, “We still don’t know what caused the injuries on L. While expecting the worst is not the best way to approach this,we can’t exclude the possibility someone from the Mushroom Kingdom was the cause of this. It’s a hope we can inform the people who need to know without tipping off what’s truly going on. To keep this L and ourselves safe.”

“But we can’t sit on this for to long,” Peasley quickly argued back, “Twiddling our thumbs will help with nothing!”

“Neither will rushing in,” Queen Bean reached over to place a hand on her son’s shoulder. The prince relaxed slightly by the touch. “This is nothing that we can just snap our fingers and solve. We are breaking walls that have been left untouched to kingdoms we have not interacted with for so long. Worrying about an unknown but dangerous threat. To us, this human L, and our kingdom overall. We need to be cautious.”

“...I understand.” 

“No one is happy about this situation, Prince Peasley. No one wanted to feel unsafe in their own home. But it’s how we respond that will help us in finding a solution.”

“Then what shall I do?”

“Your priority is L. He’s lost, confused, and is still in a battle for his life. Provide him some form of stability. Become a person he knows he can rely on. Do you understand?”

“...Yes mother.”

#luigi #prince peasley #luigi x peasley #s-creations #fanfiction #chapter story

[driedmealworms]

Beauty and the beast Diavolo x MC

I’m sorry if this is bad I haven’t wrote fanfiction in like 2 years and this is my first Tumblr post

I also posted this on Wattpad

You immediately knew this man was not human... his presence was big but also terrifying, his teeth Sharp, his eyes Gold, his hair like Flame, you felt your gut sink and it felt like your tongue was swollen making it impossible to mutter a single word as you looked up at him.

"Welcome to the Devildom!"

He said with a toothy grin.

You felt lightheaded and before you knew it everything was dark...

You jolted awake feeling sick, you could barely remember what happened before you fainted... you carefully observe your surroundings. The charcoal walls framed with gold.

the dark cherry wood furniture. You laid on a king sized bed decorated with white and red pillows a burgundy duvet covering the lower half of your body.

You jump at the sound of three knocks on the heavy wood door. "May I come in?" You hear a muffled silk voice.

A handful of seconds pass before the door gently cracks... "Mc... Are you up?" There was a teal haired man with a slender build, he wore a green button up, covered by an apron.

"Are you feeling well? I brought you some breakfast if you are hungry." The man smiles, pulling a cart into the room.

You stare in awe as he starts setting up the breakfast tray. "I figured you may want to eat alone since you were pretty frightened earlier" he laughs

"But you are not prisoner to this room."

"Why am I here?" You say with a weak voice,

He starts pouring a cup of tea before handing it to you.

"First drink this, the air here is deferent from what you are used to.

Humans tend to take awhile to get adjusted but this should speed up the process."

"And to answer your question...

The young master is trying to mend the bridge between the three worlds, you have been chosen to help with his project.

I am afraid that's all the information I can say, if you want more details you'll have to ask his majesty yourself."

He smiles as he puts his stuff back on the cart.

"If you need any assistance whatsoever you can just call for one of the servants we have all been ordered to make you as comfortable as possible!"

He gives you one last smile before making his way out of the room with his cart.

You look down into your cup, the small remnants of tea leaves floating in the light brown liquid, warmth radiating from the cup as you bring it up to your lips

You immediately feel the dryness of your throat go away as you take your first sip.

The tray before you resembled a feast , a variety of deferent fruits you have never seen before along with fresh baked bread, eggs, and something similar to bacon.

You cautiously take your first bite of the eggs, before you know it all that's left of the meal is a few crumbs.

You uncover your body,

sitting up and carrying the tray towards the door.

You poke your head out of the door looking down a lavish hallway, there were shadowy figures with horns sweeping and polishing away.

"Oh. Want me to take those from you madam?" A shadowing figure stops it's work and asks.

"Uhm yeah..." you say handing the tray over to the demon, it turns around and starts walking down the hall "wait! Is it ok if I follow you?" The demon stops looking back at you it's eyes glowing yellow.

"Ofcourse Madam mc,"

                                    X

"And this picture is of the young masters fathers, fathers, father."

The demon explained, you stared into the portrait not knowing how you got into a tour of the castle in the first place.

"Uhm Little D no. 2, Mc, what are you doing... and why are you carrying around that tray?" You looked over at a familiar face

"Oh B-barbatos... we'll you see Mc practically begged me for a tour and I couldn't stand watching them in that state... tearing up and all that so i just had to give them a tour...." Beads of sweat started forming on the shadowy demons forehead.

"Hm is this true Mc?" Barbatos looks at you with his finger resting on his chin.

"Uhm..." you see Little D no. 2s panicked expression in your peripheral.

"Mhm it's true..."

You respond

"Oh... for a second I thought Little D no. 2 just dragged you into a tour to get out of doing his work, it wouldn't be the first time he's done it after all." Barbatos glares at the Little D.

"Speaking of work I really should finish it!

Mind taking these to the kitchen for me? Thanks!" The little D shoves the tray in Barbatos hands before disappearing down the hallway.

"What am I gonna do with him" He sighs,

"Well we can finish this tour later but for now let's take these to the kitchen and get you dressed." Even though he was smiling you could see the slightly visible vein in his forehead.

"Why do I need to get dressed?" You ask making him stop in his tracks.

"My apologies I got distracted and forgot to mention it to you,

The prince has requested you show up to dinner tonight." The butler continues his path.

"Why?" You ask mentally slapping yourself for asking such a stupid question.

"Well to discuss the project Ofcourse..." the butler never moving his gaze from the path.

#shall we date diavolo #obey me #diavolo x reader #willmostlikelyhavesmut #femalereader #femreaderbecauseicouldntfindanygenderneutraltermsforroyals

[letsgofoletsgo]

Cinderella Snapped

This fic takes place in @arickaandherfictionalothers‘s Reverse!Descendants au, specifically my version that includes Azalea. This was inspired by the structure of her song fics, so I wanted to try one of my own. I hope I did it justice!

Also, I made a version without the song if you want to read that

💚🍎🖤🍎💚🍎🖤🍎💚🍎🖤🍎💚

Upon cresting the stairs, Aricka peered around the corner cautiously. A dark, decrepit hallway expanded before her, the wallpaper peeling and floorboards splitting. A musty scent lingered in the air, as many of the windows had been boarded up in a crude fashion. The only light that entered was through small cracks that were scattered along the walls and ceiling. 

Aricka stepped into the hall, wincing as the floor creaked under her feet. Aricka treaded carefully along the hall, unable to shake the uneasy feeling welling in her stomach. Her eyes darted around, scanning her surroundings for any sign of danger. The silence was almost deafening, her own heart and stuttering breaths ringing in her ears. Eventually, she approached the door at the end of the hall. Stopping in front of it, she paused before she entered. Debating with herself at this final passage, only her own speculation aiding her at what awaited her on the other side. Taking a breath and gathering her courage, Aricka placed her hand on the knob, opening the door. 

She was greeted with a somewhat small room, a table with three banged up chairs on her left, and what appeared to be the remains of a counter and some cabinets on her right. On the far side of the room was a dingy coffee table, above it an open window. Next to it was a couch, threadbare and stained; with Azalea lounging on it. 

“‘Bout time you got here.” Xe said.

“Azalea, what is this place?” Aricka asked. 

Xe took a drag of the cigarette in xyr hand, the sunlight illuminating the smoke. “It’s my own little corner of town. Place’s been run down for years, so I figured it was a perfect spot.” 

“But… Mal lets you live in the castle, why would you want to come here?” 

“Sometimes a guy just wants to smoke a cig in peace.” Xe shrugged. “Look, I know it's a bit different than the luxury rooms and king sized beds you bunch are used to, but having a hidey hole can be beneficial in more ways than you think.” 

“Okay…” she stepped closer to xem, taking in the room. “So then, why did you ask me to come here?” 

“As you might’ve guessed, I don’t bring people up here too often.” Azalea flicked xyr cigarette into the ashtray sitting on the coffee table. “But, I figured this would be a good place to talk.” 

“Talk?” Aricka turned to xem. “I thought you were going to teach me more about how to be a villain?” 

“Oh, I still intend to teach you. But you’re already familiar with what I have in mind.” Xe rose from the couch, slowly approaching her. 

She raised a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The thing is Aricka, you’ve done well in our time together. You don’t learn the ways of these streets overnight, but you’ve picked it up fast enough. However, you still have one flaw.” 

Xe was a few feet away from her, emerald eyes glaring daggers. 

“You still hold back. You’ve yet to truly break free” 

“What? But, I’ve done everything you’ve told me- you said yourself that I’ve been doing well!” 

“And you have been. But you ever stop and wonder why I’m doing this for you? Why Mal brought you all to the Kingdom of Malice?” 

Aricka couldn’t bring herself to answer, almost dreading what Azalea was to say. 

“Because the world that your parents made isn’t the happily ever after they had you think it was.” 

“It’s not- What are you talking about?” 

“Your gaggle may not realize it, but we’re doing you all a favor. We’re helping you see the potential that your parents locked away in a golden prison.”

“But your parents were the villains, they were the ones to take over!” 

“And your parents force you to be their prim, proper puppets.” Azalea almost snarled the last word. “They dress you up in what they want you to wear, and marry you off to whoever would benefit them.” 

Aricka froze. What xe described, this fake fantasy that everyone was happy after the fairy tale, but was just propping up a ruse to save face, 

That was her life back home.

“How… How could you know what life was like for us?” 

“Because it's the same story every time. The guy gets the girl, all the problems fade away, and they ride off into the sunset together.” Xe began pacing around the room, hands gesturing to his description. “Sounds nice for the ending of a storybook, but if you want anything outside of this ‘perfect’ little status quo they invented, it's out of the question.” 

“The isle may have been stifling, but it was safe. We had no other choice.” 

"Maybe so. But has it ever occurred to you that the ones keeping you safe weren't so perfect themselves? Have you ever truly taken a look in that mirror you praise, to see the ruse your parents puppet you with? They don’t consider anything beyond their fairytale happy endings that they’ve been blinded by, because to them, that’s all there is. To them, that’s all your life ever will be.” 

“But… Why would you care what happens to us? Why go through all this trouble just for the AKs?” 

Azalea turned to her. “Because we’re not like our parents.”

Confusion returned to Aricka’s face. “But- you still have the barrier up around the isle.” 

“I can’t control what Mal does; but I can control what I do. I can control what I wear, who I love, what I do. I can control my life, Aricka, and so can everyone else. That’s what we claimed for ourselves, that’s what this kingdom stands for. Our lives aren’t defined by a storybook, and yours shouldn’t be either.”

Aricka’s mind was racing, everything Azalea said made sense, but how could it be true?

“It’s just… My life used to seem so perfect when I was younger… We were the heroes of the story, we were supposed to be the ones with the happy ending!” 

Azalea chuckled. “Oh princess, you still don’t get it, do you?” 

With a snap of xyr fingers, xyr emerald necklace began to glow, and the room suddenly faded to black. Aricka looked around frantically, trying to find Azalea who had disappeared without a trace. 

“Once upon a time there was a princess

Waiting for a boy to give back her shoe

Suck it in, suck it in, be a wife in a blue dress

The prettiest piece of property the land ever knew”

Turning around, a glowing green figure stood behind her. It looked like a young prince, initially smiling warmly at her- until she found herself yanked around by him, a green collar appearing around her neck as he tugged her along. 

“She waited and she waited for the guy to show

But she didn't know that after midnight

He was busy in her stepsister's bed

So Cinderelly said, ‘Plot twist’"

The prince and collar disappeared, a trail of magic twisting in their wake. Aricka then saw him reappearing in front of Azalea, the two nearly leaning in for a kiss until xe whisked him away.

“I don't need no prince to save me

I'm a goddamn CEO

Don't call me "Baby", equal pay me

Snow White said you tried to kiss her

So I'll just buy a new glass slipper and,”

Throwing an outstretched arm into the air, Azalea conjured a storm of magic around the two of them. Green-tinted fires of xyr fury encircled them, receding briefly to show Snow White in a similar luminous fashion to the prince from earlier, then to Azalea holding a fake slipper.  

“Burn your castle down

And kids, that's how Cinderella snapped”

The fire returned, now engulfing the scorched remains of a castle. Azalea stood by Aricka as they witnessed the blaze, before snapping xyr fingers and quelling the fire. 

“When the smoke cleared, every girl in the whole land

Woke the fuck up and started making demands”

Azalea reappeared from the smokescreen, smirking at Aricka as xe raised a finger, channeling magic around xem. 

“Rapunzel shaved their head so there was nothin' to climb on

Jasmine made out with Mulan

Sleeping Beauty sued the dude who kissed her while she was asleep

And Ariel was confident without any feet

Tiana went and got a biomedical degree”

As xe walked, xyr magic depicted the princesses xe described. 

“And Beauty realized that she was the Beast”

Now staring at Aricka, xyr eyes seemed sharp and foreboding, almost in an otherworldly manner.

“I don't need no prince to save me

I'm a goddamn CEO

Don't call me "Baby", equal pay me

Snow White said you tried to kiss her

So I'll just buy a new glass slipper and

Burn your castle down

And kids, that's how Cinderella snapped”

Similar to before, Azalea lit a blaze around them, the flames echoing the rage in xyr voice- before it faded to black once again.

He said, "Cindy, sweetie, don't be so emotional

You're always so emotional

It's fine to be controllable"

The prince from earlier reappeared, talking down to Aricka with a condescending smile, before he revealed himself to be Azalea in disguise. 

“If I'm emotional, that'd be the reason for you to address me

While you're on your knees in the scary event

That I get too emotional during your trial

So watch how you're speaking”

Xe then began walking towards her, staring her down like a predator circling in its prey.

“'Cause while you were sleeping around every weekend

And using your power to pray on the weakest”

Just a few feet from her, xe showed various scenes of higher ups abusing their power, taking the wealth for themselves and leaving those poorer to a cruel fate. 

“I studied your own legislation all season

And last I checked, cheating is treason”

Almost as if planned, Azalea looked to Aricka and smirked; it seemed the message had finally gone through. 

“I don't need no prince to save me

I'm a royal CEO

Don't call me "Baby", equal pay me”

Now Aricka was the one singing her dismay, Azalea’s green flames following her in her wake. 

“Snow White said you tried to kiss her

So I'll just buy a new glass slipper and”

Surrounded by xyr fires, Azalea had a wild grin as xe followed Aricka in their shared fiery destruction. 

“Burn your castle down

And kids, that's how Cinderella snapped”

Regaining herself, Aricka found herself in a brief dance with Azalea, ending with xem dipping her as xe stared triumphantly back. 

Returning to the abandoned room and breaking away from xyr grip, Aricka stared blankly, trying to process the whirlwind of thoughts in her head. Azalea watched her. 

“Now do you get it? This is why we brought you here, to free you from their grip. In this town, we can be whoever we want to be, and it starts by stepping out of the image our parents forced us into. It starts with us."

She bites her lip, hard enough to bleed. “I still have a sister back on the isle. Alexandra. She needs us. Chad and I. Otherwise she’s doomed. I can’t let my mother-!” 

Aricka seemed in disbelief of the words coming from her own mouth, heart sinking upon the realization.

“Azalea, I can’t let Alexa be trapped in that stuffy life.”

Xyr lips curved into the hint of a smirk. “Exactly.”

“But I can’t- I can’t be evil. I can’t kill someone. I can’t make- I can’t purposely hurt someone.” She sputtered. “That’s not who I am.”

"Then don't be. We're trying to break you out of a death grip that's been around your neck your whole life, not force you into another one."

This seemed to puzzle Aricka. “Isn’t that what villains do? Hurt people, take what they want without caring about anyone else?”

“Well, not all of us. Like I said earlier, we’re not like our parents. Yes, our kingdom has a scary name and we’re not as strict about… Much of anything, but we’re not truly evil. We just value self autonomy in a way that makes people like your parents mad. Makes ‘em feel threatened, realizing we've wormed our way out of their grip.” Xe looked out the window. “Admittedly, the shoddy infrastructure is a byproduct of Maleficent’s rule.” 

She pondered xyr words, looking back at xem with wide eyes. “You… You really are trying to help us.” 

“That’s the idea. But we can’t help you if you don’t accept it.” 

She stood in silence for a few moments. “... I want to talk to Mal. I want her to know I chose being a VK over being some perfect prissy princess.”

A pleased smile spread across Azalea’s face, eyes slightly narrowed. "That's all I needed to hear. I'll let her know to expect you."

Xe returned to the couch, plunking down as xe retrieved another cigarette.

“So, what am I supposed to do now?” 

"You, my dear, can do whatever you like. Go, stay, it's up to you. But remember, in the Kingdom of Malice, one's fate is up to the individual, not anyone else."

Azalea lit the cigarette in xyr hand, studying the sunset as he put it to xyr lips. Aricka just stood for a moment, contemplating what she had learned. Turning to leave, the new perspective of her childhood was unfurling in her mind, memories replaying as she pieced together the reality of it all. 

Perhaps those in the Kingdom of Malice weren’t so malicious after all. 

Perhaps those on the Isle of The Fallen, the ones who were framed as the benevolent heroes, weren’t as picture perfect as they made themselves out to be.

#emerald bloom #Spotify #Malice au

[kuichihimei]

Chapter 2: The White & Red Queen

When King White opened his eyes, he was met with a bright, orange light. He was back inside the castle, the seer was nowhere to be found.

Suddenly a small figure ran past him.

It was his daughter Snow! But why was she in a hurry?

He decides to follow her & tries to catch up, the little girl eventually reaches the doors of the infirmary...

King White reluctantly enters through the room, the familiar scent of herbal medicines & clean linen filled the air. Snow was nowhere to be found.

His eyes immediately noticed two figures occupying one of the beds.

One of them was of his wife, Queen White. The queen laid on the bed with a serene, almost emotionless expression on her face.

The other figure was that of himself, who was standing on the foot of the bed, eyes on the floor with a solemn expression, like he was deep in thought.

“I can't believe she's dead now.”

The king who was near the bed muttered.

“W-what?”

He froze, what did he just say?

“She's dead. Her heart stopped beating almost an hour ago...” King White approaches the bed.

He looks over to see that his wife had peacefully passed on... The love of his life & the mother of his dear Snow is know dead.

He was... quite disturbed & relieved to say the least...

Disturbed since he knows that she'll be dead soon & relieved since she'll no longer suffer from her sickness.

Queen White was always bedridden ever since she got sick. She always suffered from high fevers that made her aggressively convulse dark bile & she always felt tired, her once rosy complexion had gone sallow over time as her disease worsened. As much as Queen White's disease pained her, he & Snow also suffered to see her in such a condition.

They tried everything to heal her, from trying the latest medicines doctors could come up with, from consulting a witch doctor to find ancient remedies that could cure her but to no avail.

“Please leave, I need some time alone for a moment.” The King White who was on the foot of the bed spoke, almost like he was demanding for the other version of himself to leave after knowing that their wife's dead.

“W-what?”

“I said get out.”

“ Now wait a minute, hold on—”

“I SAID GET OUT!” The figure on the bed yelled.

“Ok, ok I'll go now. I'm going.”

King White started backing away from the bedside where he stood. Without breaking eye contact from the alternate version of himself, he walked backwards towards the infirmary room's doors, but when he opened the door, the hallway had disappeared, he was only met with pitch black, darkness.

Suddenly, the King White on the foot of the bed appeared in front of him & pushed him into the void, he started falling at an accelerated rate.

‘Is this how I'll die?’

King White thought as he closed his eyes bracing for his death on impact

W̴̨̰̣͖̆ḥ̶̤̲̏̽́̃̾̂͐ơ̵̱'̵̲͕͓̬͈̅̅̊̐ͅs̴̞̈́̒̐̿̚͝ ̴̛̯͓̗̦̪̠͂̆̀͝g̸̠͚͕̝̱̣͙̿̀͑́͆̈͝o̵̬̫̣̼̯̗̿̾̊̈͜i̷̲̗̜̒͑̀̑͘n̷̪̯͎̪̼̤̳̏g̵͚͍͒͑̃̇̈́́ ̷̭̥̭̥͙̀̃t̷̨̛̥͍̼̹̿̔͌̒͆̃o̷̦̩͉̪̳͋̃̀ ̵̢̼̻̙͓̏̓̓̏͘t̴͈̜̥̗̎̑́̏̓͆͜͠ą̵̧͖̼̞̗̗̓́̒̋̋͋̚ḳ̴̢̨̢̛̳͌̿̄́̕ẽ̴̫̰̲̮̇͆̍͒͋͘ ̶̪̻͔̟̣̈́c̴̤͙̩̜͔̭̺͆̏͊̈́͒͗a̷̧̜͚̥̪͋̒r̸̢͔͈͔̭̈͌̅̀̊e̴̛̲̘̯̒͒͊͂ ̵̤̦̑̄̊͝o̴̧͈͘f̸̨͕̭̥̗͓̃́̽ ̴̢̬̹̤̣̊̈́͊̆́͑̚S̶̛̪̺̯̟̮̦ṇ̴̢̪̞͉̑͝ő̸͓̞̗̔̈́͝w̴̧̤̯̹̟͛̿́̈́́͌́͜ ̸͖̮̪̰̖͐͛́ṅ̵̹̟̯̞͗̓͛͗͝ͅo̵̡̦͍̔̈́̉̈́̚w̷̡̺̖͑̎̇̄̉͆͝?̵̝̼̠̋͂͆¿̸̦͓͈͕̤̘̙̀?̷̹͙̻̼̻̈́̓¿̷̡̻̹̍

“Papa?”

“Papa? Are you alright?”

All of the sudden, he was in the throne room surrounded by people, Snow White worriedly stood in front of him. Since when did she get so tall?

“What's going on?”

“It's my birthday party?”

“What?” King White looks down.

Since when was he holding a birthday cake?

King White took notice of how many candles were on the cake.

‘18 Candles...’

This must be Snow's 18th Birthday.

‘Ok, this is getting weird.’ King White thought, as he scanned the room & his now fully grown daughter.

Suddenly, he could hear someone running towards them.

“Your majesty—” A guard frantically enters the room.

“Your majesty! We found a witch near the castle!”

“A what⁈”

“We saw her lurking around the castle walls, she was planning to do something horrible!”

“What was she planning to do?”

“She was going to try ma—”

All of the sudden, the gates are opened wide. King White accidentally drops the cake that he was holding & readied himself to face the said witch.

Two guards walked into the room to reveal... a beautiful woman? Is this the witch the guard was talking about? She couldn't possibly be a witch right?

The woman had red hair, that was held back by a bun & had sharp features, her grey eyes captivated everyone in the room. She was wearing a below the knee, long sleeved, black dress & was wearing bright red shoes.

King White began to approach her as he was in awe with her beauty, but as he got closer, his vision began to darken & he starts to become dizzy, but he still tries to approach the woman.

When he got to her, he passed out.

Everything was pitch black again... He was back in the void...

B̸̢͈͎͚̞͍̫̹̟͉̮̲̳̣̬͆͂͛͆͂̿̑̒̃͊̀͌̎̚͘͜e̷͓̮͖̝̺͖̥͓̼̮̊̽̄̎͜w̴̛̗̹͈̞̮̬̠̟̠̠͐͒͆͂̀̾ͅą̸̠̞̟̪̜͓̞̣̘̻́̎͌̇̀̃͑̋̕̚͝ͅr̷̨̨̦͈̝̳̠̂̊̄̇̌ȩ̶͓͓̯̮̱̫͕̟͎̟͂̐́͒̊̈́̂̐͒̈͌̚͠ ̷̰͍̮͊̅́̋̾̉͊̈̀̊̉̓̚̕͝o̴̡̡̡̢͈̩͖̤͇̲̬̝̹̐͂̽͜͜f̶̝͚̆̃̄͊̌͊̕ ̴̧̛̟̣͍̭̺͇̮̺͕̻̹̟̾̒̅̈́̿͑͊̀̇̃̚͠ţ̴̧̱̗̩̭̮͎̪̬̞̮̺̤̟̙͇͖̏̈̏̀͛̅̾͘͜ͅh̶̡̡̛͔͖̱͉̫̥̲͉͍̞͍͚̩̼̳̞̩̯̽̽͆̄͐͒̈́̿̓̏͂̈́̎͐͋̀̽͗̚e̵̛̘̱͙̯͈̠̗͍̯̬͎̰̺̭̳̯̊̂͋̈́̎͋͌̾͌̕͜͝ͅ ̶̝͈̙͈̜̮́͛́̎̚̕͜͝w̴̨̨̭̙̻̤̮̲̹͓̻͈͓̻͍̌͌̌͜͜ǫ̶̡̜̝̰̖̭͓̹͙̯̘̒̋̂̃͑̑̊̈́̂̒̔́͐̋͑͗͘͠͝ͅm̵̢̰̫̣͇̲͉̠̻̽̅̾̿̋̈͘̕͝͝a̵̳͚̺̮̮͍̮̩͓̹̫̩̙̜̞͛̈͂̄͛̃̈́̄͛̀̈̃̉̒̕͜͠n̸̢̛̜͓̬͙̙̓́̽͂̀̑̏́̅͑̋̾̑̈̐̊͆̅͝ ̵̢̲̯̜͇͖̩͇̬̯̣͖͉̆̓̀̈́͛͑̇͗̚͝w̶̨̙̠͋̽͠h̷̠̺̳͕̤̲͓̼̘̭͐͂͝o̸̧̢͉̯͇̩͍͈͔͚͖̗̗͌͋͋̀̉͒̌͒̔͋̅͑̕͜͝͝ ̷̢̨̡̛̫͍̰̜̭̭͙̰̽͑̓̿̌̔͂̌̊̑̚͘̚̕͠͠͝w̷̡̨̧͕̱̱̹͇͇̯̮̯̰̪͓̥̘̰̥̄͂̒̂̏͋͒ȩ̷̢̡̢̧̹̰̻̻̞̲̠͕̲̮̝͚̐ā̶̤͌́̀̇̓͛̌̌̑͘͘͝͠ȓ̷̡̧̛̼̬͉̺̝̗͖͔̱̻͖̉̿̈́̉͌̂́̎͜͝ͅş̴͎͖͔̹̅ ̴̨̘̯̫̬͈̠̻̱̳̦̓̌͊͊̐͂̀̾̂̀̀̓̓͊͆̚͘͜͜͠ţ̶̡̩̲͓̻͈̜͉̝̬͈͇͓̗̋͌̿h̷̨̢̨̲̠̖͈͍̭̬̺͕̩̦͓̫͊͜e̶̟̝̦̟͍̋̀̐̑̎͋̌̽̓́̓̕̚͜͜͠ ̷̡͉̤̯̘̼̣̹̪̭̝͕͙̪͔̎̅̇͌̈͗̽͝r̸̹͔̰̩͓̓͌͒̏͋̆͒̾̇͆̓̐́͘͜ȩ̷̢̺̣̩͍̞̥͇̪̣̤̖̝̤̫͕̗͒̏̀͝ď̸̢̡̢̻̲͍̰͈͉̳̩̲̬̜̆̉̽̉̚͜͝ ̶̨̧̨͙͙̬̹̺̭̞͚̮̥̀̊͋̌̿̾̄̀̑̑̔̎̽͛͑̀̕̚̚͝s̶̛̱̗̥̺̞̹̜̺̯͊̾̾̿͆̉͐̉͛̏̀͛ḩ̷͖͕̠̞̰͈̙͙̲̟͓͚̫͍̭̠̲͍̱̎̈ǫ̴̘̰̰̹͎̭̒͐͐͌̿̂͐͒̅̀̄̂͋͊̅̈́́͘͜ȇ̸̡̧̛̟͇̙̱̦̖̘͍̟̬̖̘̮̝̖̻̖̈̀́͑̎͐̌̿́́̓͒́́͘̕͘͜s̷̡̥̤̘̖̝̠̦͐̋́͋͂̒͘

#red shoes and the 7 dwarfs #rsat7d #rsat7d x oc #oc x canon #rsat7d imagine

[justviwriting]

‘A Last Peace’

Fandom: Harry Potter Characters: Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks Pairing: Remus/Tonks Rating: G Words: 3.897 Summary: After Dumbledore's death, Remus finds himself unsure of the future, and is wondering whether he should let the one person he knew he should stay away from back into his life. A/N: Thought about creating a fanfiction blog for a while (as an attempt to write more again lmao) and decided to open it with the first ship I had ever written a fanfiction about. It's been a while since I've published anything Harry Potter related but I hope you like it.

[you can also read it on AO3]

For a few seconds, as Remus woke up, he felt weirdly at peace. A peace he had not felt in quite a long time. However, that feeling of tranquillity vanished the very moment he noticed his surroundings and remembered all that had taken place just a few hours before. The raid of Hogwarts, the following fight, the shattering news of Dumbledore’s death and the uncertainty of what would come next for each and every one of them. It all came back to him in such a rush that even though he was still lying down, he suddenly felt dizzy and disorientated. The calm feeling had left him completely, and he even wondered why, for a second, he had felt so at peace. Perhaps it had been caused by the familiar place he had found himself in. The smell of old, damp walls and rusting metal mixed with the humidity of the earth and grass outside was unique to Hogwarts, and unique to him feeling at home. At least it used to be. Now that darker memories had started to overshadow the good times he had spent in this castle, he was not sure whether the love he shared for this place would survive.

Someone had started snoring. Remus continued to lay on his back staring at the dark ceiling, not looking at the people deep asleep, lying around him in the folding beds they had brought into the classroom for the night. Of course, they had all agreed to stay the night. Molly and Arthur due to concern of their son’s health, the others for protection, and Remus, in particular, because he simply did not have a place to stay right now. He had spent the last years living with a pack of werewolves, giving up the cheap and mouldy flat he had rented in London. When he wasn’t on his mission, he had either stayed with someone from the Order or slept at Grimmauld Place. The latter was not an option anymore, as its Secret Keeper was now gone and one of the people who could access it had betrayed them all. Remus didn’t want his thoughts to linger on Snape or what he had done, because it filled him with a rage he had not felt in quite some time. Instead, he focused the thoughts on his living situation, which was not a pleasant thought either, but at least kept his mind occupied.

He didn’t like staying too long at his friends’ place, even though he knew Molly and Arthur would more than welcome him. However, he also barely had any money right now. He couldn’t even rent a room for a night or two, so he would have to stay with them or someone else for a while if he didn’t want to spend his next nights on the street.

He knew he should not feel like a liability to people he called friends, but he simply could not help it. He had never felt like that when he had stayed at Grimmauld Place, even after Sirius’ death, or back during the first war, when he had stayed with Sirius for several months. Despite everything that had happened between Sirius and himself, he had never felt guilty about staying with him. Perhaps it was not been despite but because of their history. Their closeness and honesty had allowed them to detach themselves from any form of guilt, and had no lies remain between them. And right now, Remus might be missing his presence even more than he had ever done before.

Sirius would have caught onto Snape’s betrayal immediately, would have supported Harry in his beliefs, he was certain of that. But would Remus have believed him then? Or would he still have been blinded by his faith in Dumbledore’s trust, guided by his own guilt he had felt in relation to Snape? He knew the answer and he hated himself for it. But with Sirius here, he would have someone to talk to, honestly and without judgement. Yet this was not an option anymore, so he continued lying in his bed, staring at the dark ceiling.

He should try finding some sleep again. It was still dark, and they were approaching midsummer, so he couldn’t have slept for long or dawn would already be upon them. Perhaps, if he really couldn’t sleep, he could walk the castle for a bit, lost in his own thoughts like he usually was.

Of course, there was one person he could talk to. One person he could open up with. Yet he won’t. Because he didn’t know whether he could draw the line between friendship and a different love, and because he didn’t know whether she would even want to see him. Instinctively, he turned to his side and looked across the room where her bed stood. The windows were facing away from the moonlight, so the room was barely lit, and he had to sit up to see clearly whether his eyes were lying to him or not. They weren’t. The bed was empty. Either Tonks had a similar idea and had started to walk around the castle, or she had decided to leave before dawn. If it was the latter, he couldn’t help the rush of guilt running through his body, as he knew it would probably be because of him.

Remus sighed. He continued staring at the empty bed, contemplating whether he should get up or not. The castle was huge but if she was still here, there would be a chance he might run into her, and he didn’t know whether he wanted to talk to her or not.

Their relationship had been strained ever since last summer. It had started well before that already though, one lonely night, where she had professed her feelings for him, and he had to reject her, not because he didn’t want to be with her, but because he felt it was the right thing to do. Pushing her away made his heart feel like it was torn into a thousand different pieces, but he knew staying with her – while it might bring happiness for a while – would hurt much more. He couldn’t give her what she deserved, and he was sure that, even though she was denying it right now, eventually she would realise this as well, and if he stayed with her, eventually her love would turn into hate. Perhaps it already did, but at least now he didn’t have to witness it, because he wasn’t at her side.

Still, they had to continue to work together for the Order and even though he could tell that she knew his rejection wasn’t caused by his lack of feelings for her, they had remained civil and kind to one another, in a way that almost hurt. Tonks had clearly valued the work they did as well as their friendship higher than her own feelings. It was something he admired and something he was grateful for. Then the battle at the Ministry of Magic had happened, shortly followed by his mission among the werewolves. In between those two events, he had spent several nights at the hospital by her bed and after she had recovered, had regularly visited her at her flat, spending hours talking and consoling each other. Until the wall he had built up between the feelings they shared for one another and the friendship they had wanted to maintain had suddenly come down. And Remus had known that those times together could not continue. Thankfully, his mission had come at a perfect time, as he now did not have to actively avoid her. He had hoped that perhaps some time apart could have mended their friendship, but every time he was back, she wasn’t there. She had declined any invitation and had left the few Order meetings they had shared before he could have sought out a conversation with her. Only the short glances she had sometimes thrown his way had told Remus that she did in fact still acknowledge his existence.

He couldn’t blame her for putting a distance between them. After all, that was what he had done, and at the worst time as well. He knew that she had needed him. He knew the anxiety and sadness that had overcome her every waking moment, because she had felt save enough to share those feelings with him, and he had felt save enough to share his own hurt with her. And she had been there for him, every moment he had needed her, even though he had broken her heart, and when she would have needed him, he had simply left. So it was no wonder that she didn’t want to see him. He couldn’t blame her, but he could blame himself. He had toyed with the idea of just visiting her by himself, but the coward side of him had won every time. Even when he had known that she was spending Christmas by herself, he couldn’t bring himself to go to her, or at least leave a present for her at her doorstep.

Another sigh left his lips. Perhaps now was the time to seek a conversation. So he slowly and quietly got up and left the room. There was no certainty he would walk into her either way but if he would, perhaps there was a reason for it.

However, he didn’t even have time to think about what he might tell her should he run into her, because Tonks was sitting right there, in the hallway, inside the huge window frame, staring outside. The moonlight illuminating the place and her face made it easy for him to recognise her immediately, though she didn’t yet notice him. She seemed deep into thoughts, some strands of the brown hair falling loosely into her face. He had never gotten used to seeing her with her natural hair colour, which was so inconspicuous, unlike her usual personality, the one he had known and grown to love.

The few times they had met since he had left for his mission, he couldn’t help but notice the change in her character and appearance. Molly had let him know about it every time without him ever asking about her, but seeing her for himself was quite different. She was silent most of the time, even numb. It almost seemed like she didn’t notice the change either, more like she had just given up on feeling anything. Her eyes seemed lost in some thought and held back from showing any form of strong emotion. And every time he saw her, she had gotten thinner and paler, until she almost looked sick.

He had tried very hard not to blame himself, but the feeling of guilt took over him again the minute her saw her now. He knew she needed him. She needed a friend, but he couldn’t be that friend anymore, even though right now he wanted nothing more than to simply take her into his arms, just holding her for a second, feeling the warm touch of her body again, both for his sake and hers. But he couldn’t let himself do that, and he didn’t know whether she would still want him to, either. Not as a friend, at least.

Just a year ago he would’ve still believed that her feelings might not be as serious as she had tried to tell him. Because it was difficult for him to accept that people could have any genuine affection for him, and he had only allowed himself to accept the honesty of a few. Now, however, he knew her feelings were genuine, and if this situation wouldn’t cast such a dark shadow over both of them, he could perhaps have even allowed himself to selfishly enjoy the thought of her love, though he could never allow it to grow. But he could not find any joy in seeing her like that, and he almost wished that she did hate him. Because feeling love for a person that didn’t replicate it was a lot less painful than having to push someone away that would be more than willing to hold you at night.

Remus stood there, lost in his thoughts, with the handle of the open door still in his hand. He could go back inside. She hadn’t seen him yet. Instead, he closed the door, and the noise made her turn around.

He could have almost sworn that he saw a slight smile on her lips as she recognised him, but she was facing away from the moonlight now and he couldn’t tell whether this was just his mind showing him what he desired rather than the truth. As he walked closer to her, there was no smile as she said, “Can’t sleep either?”

Remus shook his head and stopped a few feet away from her. “Thought I might as well just walk around a bit.”

“I had the same thought,” she replied. “But then I stopped at the sight of this and ended up here.” She gestured outside as she turned back to the window. Remus followed her gaze and looked in rapture at the light of the moon illuminating the familiar grounds of Hogwarts. It was a beautiful sight, and the silhouette of Tonks’ body, framed by the light shining through the window, made him wish someone would paint a picture of this moment.

They remained silent for a few minutes before Tonks turned back around and asked, “Do you already know where you’re going to stay now?”

He was a bit surprised by the question, though he probably shouldn’t be. Tonks had always been compassionate and thoughtful of other people’s situations. Still, her thinking about his current living situation, despite everything else that had just happened, took him by surprise. For a short moment he wondered how often he actually was on her mind, even after almost a year of barely talking to one another. 

“Probably with Molly and Arthur for a while,” he told her then. He leant back against the wall opposite of her, looking down, thinking about whether he should share the thoughts he had earlier with her or not. He didn’t want to get too close to her again, though the thought of sharing his fears and worries with her was quite tempting.

“You know, you could stay at my place,” she said then. He looked back up. “I’ll probably stay in Hogsmeade at least until the school year is done. And maybe it’s time for someone to water my plants.”

He smiled at her attempt of a joke. Perhaps it wasn’t the worst idea either. Like she said, she wouldn’t be there.

“Sure, why not,” he told her then. Maybe it could help ease the tension between them, if only a little.

This time, he was certain that he didn’t imagine the smile on her face. Then, she looked down for a moment, almost as if unsure of what she was going to say next. When she looked back up, she said, still with uncertainty in her voice, “You could also stay longer, if you want. The couch is rather comfortable … and we’d probably rarely be home at the same time anyway.”

While he appreciated the thought, Remus wasn’t sure whether he liked the idea. Staying with her could lead to new complications, and not help ease the tension as he had hoped.

“I’m sure I’ll find something,” he replied, avoiding her eyes for a moment.

As he looked back up, Tonks gave him a doubtful look, then said, “There’ll probably be even stricter laws against werewolves the closer we get to an open war. I have enough room for two people.”

She was right, of course. Finding a place to stay would be difficult, and getting his hands on money even harder. “Pretty sure the Ministry won’t like their aurors to rent rooms to werewolves either”, he countered. It wasn’t the strongest argument, as he knew Tonks wouldn’t openly talk about it, and the Ministry wasn’t yet planning to do trace their employees, as far as he was aware. However, even though Tonks looked like she wanted to retort something, she just ended up biting her lower lip, saying, “You’re probably right. You can do want you want, of course,” she added. “Just want you to know that you can stay as long as you like.”

He nodded at that. He was grateful for her concern and her understanding of the situation he had found himself in, again. Many people he had gotten close to had had trouble understanding his struggles and worries, but Tonks had never been one of them. Instead of unwanted advice, she had listened. Which was what made him slightly angry at her stubbornness and lack of understanding regarding their relationship. The words she had shouted at him just a couple hours ago in the hospital wing still rang in his ears. She had said she didn’t care. And he believed her. But he did care.

Apparently, her thoughts had taken a similar path. She was turning completely towards him now, and said in a soft voice, “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that, especially not in front of everyone. I was just … I was just tired and…” She sighed, not finishing the sentence.

“I understand,” Remus assured her and even gave her a small smile. “We all felt like that. Still do. You don’t have to apologise.”

Tonks nodded and looked back down. Remus starred at her for a second before saying, “If anyone should apologise, it’s me.” That made her look back up at him, surprise on her face. “You needed someone by your side and I just left you like that. I’m sorry.”

Tonks shook her head. “It’s not your responsibility to take care of me,” she told him.

“Maybe not,” he said, “but I should’ve been a friend to you, like you always were to me, not just leave you all on your own without any warning or proper goodbye.” She gave him a sad smile. “And I wanted to try and be that friend,” he continued, slowly, as she didn’t reply anything. “I still would,” he added, hesitatingly.

Tonks starred at him for a while, and every second that passed made him more unsure of what she would say. He couldn’t blame her if she didn’t want a friendship anymore, but the last year had shown him that not having her in his life was not something he wanted to happen. Definitely not right now. She was the only person left to him with whom he felt like he didn’t have to hide anything from, with whom he could share every thought that crossed his mind, every worry and fear that weighted heavy on his chest.

Eventually she said, “You know, even though I didn’t want to hear it back then, I now agree with what you said last year. That a distance between us would be better than staying close.”

Remus’ heart sank. He remembered those words, and he remembered regretting them shortly afterward, as he sat alone in a small hut, contemplating on whether there was a possibility to write Tonks a letter and thinking about what to tell her when he saw her again. Yet they had never had a proper conversation since that moment he had walked out on her. Until now. Obviously, she had had more than enough time to think about his words, just as he had.

She sighed. “But … even though you might be right, I …” She paused, trying to find the right words, her fingers fumbling with the edges of her cloak. She clearly seemed as unsure about a friendship as Remus was. She took another breath, then said, “With Dumbledore gone, and everything that might happen …” Her voice broke slightly at the mention of Dumbledore’s name. “The point is, I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I do know that I don’t want to spend that time arguing with you or avoiding you. I simply care too much about you,” she added, looking up at him.

He tried to give her a smile, but he couldn’t complete it. Everything she had said spoke to him. It spoke to his own feelings and why he wanted to be close to her again. They didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, a month from now, a year from now. For all they knew, everyone they knew and loved would be dead, including them.

This time, he didn’t stop the urge to take her into a hug. He stopped leaning against the wall and started walking towards her, with the intention to finally, for the first time in a year, put his arms around her. However, as he walked in her direction, their eyes locked, and for a moment his head went blank, with only the image of her face existing inside of it. Instead of taking her into a hug, he put his hands on either side of her face and pulled her into a kiss. The familiar warmth of her lips didn’t allow his mind to question his sudden action, and soon Tonks had put her hands behind his head, pulling him closer. He opened his lips slightly and deepened the kiss, letting his hands leave her face and wander over her body, wrapping his arms around her to have her as close as he could, not minding if this moment lasted forever.

It was Tonks who broke the kiss. He still had his arms around her, but the sudden parting was still slightly disorientating, and he looked at her puzzled. Her eyes were still staring at his lips, almost longingly, but he could see concern on her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, and slightly breathless.

She brought herself to look up at him and said, “I don’t … I don’t want you to … to make a rash decision based on emotionality or loneliness, just to regret it later.” Her voice sounded almost scared. “I can’t lose you again.”

She looked away and her hands left the back of his neck, though they came to a rest on his shoulders, almost as if she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to pull away completely.

Remus couldn’t argue with what she had said, and his heart felt heavy at the sight of her open distress at the possibility of him leaving her again. His decision to kiss her had not been well thought out, he hadn’t really made a decision at all. Yet his mind went back to all they had lost tonight, and all the dark days that lay ahead of them, and holding her close like this, he knew he wanted nothing more than for it to stay this way, sharing those dark days together, in hope to make them a bit brighter.

“I won’t leave again,” he told her then, which urged her to look back up at him. “Because I also care too much about you to spend this time without you.”

She studied his face for a while, as if unsure whether he was genuine, then gave him a smile as her hands wandered back to the nape of his neck, pulling him into another kiss that he gladly welcomed, another second of peacefulness to lift the heavy night.

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