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edenesth · 4 months

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The Way to His Heart [4]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 3 | Fic Masterlist | Part 5

"Mistress, please allow me to help you back to your quarters." Eunsook pleaded, once again attempting to gently pull you up from the floor. But you shook your head weakly, keeping your forehead stubbornly glued to the ground.

Jongho sighed, stepping in to help, "Miss Jang, it's the general's orders. We've been tasked with taking you back to your room. If you don't cooperate, we might be in trouble."

To the relief of both employees, that seemed to work. They quickly moved to assist your limp and defeated form, with your tear-stained face and the bruise forming on your forehead breaking their hearts. Without wasting another minute, they moved you onto the assistant's back before rushing back to The Cold Palace.

You were already unconscious when they gently laid you on your bed, the toll of your crying apparent. Eunsook sighed, pulling the blankets over your petite frame and tucking you in. She then moved to dab your wet cheeks lightly with the sleeve of her uniform.

Observing you, Jongho frowned, "She feels so light; that doesn't seem normal. It's as if she barely weighs anything. Just what in the world was her life like in the Jang estate?"

The head maid gestured for him to keep quiet, putting a finger to her lips and shaking her head in warning. She didn't want to risk waking you up or, worse, letting you hear them talk about you as if you weren't there right in front of them.

Outside your room, the two took a moment to process the events of the day. It became apparent to them that you were just as much a pawn in your father's game as their master. It was also clear that your sudden presence was set to shake the very foundation of everything they had ever known in the general's estate.

"Let's just... take a break for the night and see what happens tomorrow." Eunsook mumbled, massaging her temples to alleviate the approaching headache.

Jongho agreed, "At least we've learned that our master isn't completely heartless." They exchanged knowing smiles before retiring to their respective quarters for the night.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the estate, Seonghwa stayed awake until he was sure that his assistant and head maid had carried out their assigned task. Laying in his bed, he forced himself to sleep, but the haunting image of you sobbing and kneeling on the ground plagued his thoughts incessantly.

He tells himself that perhaps he should have begun eating a bit first during dinner; that would've allowed you to have more energy during the extended hours of kneeling. Your reaction to the food lingers in his thoughts. In retrospect, he acknowledges that instructing the servants to discard all the food while you were hungry might have been a bit much; he realises that now.

Tomorrow, I'll allow her breakfast.

Tossing and turning throughout the night, the general found no reprieve until the early hours of the day. Even when he did manage to drift off to sleep, his dreams were filled with recurring scenes of the heart-wrenching dinner. His guilt and remorse persisted even in his unconscious state.

As the morning arrived, the voice of the head maid echoed from the entrance of your room, waking you from your sleep, "Good morning, mistress! May we please enter? We will be fixing you a bath and helping you get dressed for the day."

"N-no! I don't need help getting ready!"

You gasped, a sense of panic seizing you as you tried to move towards the mirror to inspect your reflection. The prospect of them assisting you with bathing and dressing meant they would inevitably see the bruises and scars littered across your body. The risk of being ousted on your second day loomed over you, and that was something you couldn't allow.

Your legs betrayed you and gave out, succumbing to weakness due to prolonged hunger. You crawled the remaining distance to the worn-out mirror in your room, suppressing a sob as you covered your mouth upon seeing your bare, unadorned self. The tears from the previous night had washed away your makeup, unveiling the stark reality of your appearance.

"Mistress, please. We've brought a new set of clothes for you, along with the freshest rose petals for your bath. It will be relaxing and enjoyable, we assure you!"

The kindness in Eunsook's voice intensified your emotional turmoil. As you stared at your hideous reflection, you realised you didn't deserve such luxury. You weren't the beautiful and elegant first daughter promised to Seonghwa; you felt like a fraud. How naive could you have been to believe you stood a chance of becoming the wife of the renowned General Park?

You weren't good enough; you'll never be.

"No, I don't want anything! J-just leave me alone, please..." You cried, pulling your knees into your chest and hugging them close. Despite the continuous persuasion from the elderly woman, you ignored her and remained curled up in the corner.

"Mistress... please," Eunsook gave up with a sigh, shaking her head at the servants behind her, "Take it away for now." They obeyed and dispersed with the clothes and bath supplies they had prepared. She knew there was nothing she could do if you refused to grant her permission to enter.

As the footsteps of the departing servants faded away, you released a sigh of relief. Your gaze remained fixed on the marks on your skin, cruel reminders of the abuse inflicted by your father, scars that seemed destined never to fade. So long as you have these on your body, you will never know what happiness is.

A bitter, humourless chuckle escaped your lips as you contemplated the fading hope for happiness. The general's response to your heartfelt words served as undeniable proof that, no matter how sincere your efforts, he would never accept you. The burden of the Jang surname seemed to ensure that you would never be given a fair chance, regardless of how hard you try.

While you wallowed in self-pity, Seonghwa was on the opposite side of the estate, reluctantly getting dressed for the day. His sleep had been far from restful, leaving him in a sour mood.

"So... how is she doing?" He asked in a detached tone, staring out of his window to avoid meeting his assistant's eyes.

Jongho arched an eyebrow at the question, suppressing a knowing smile as he observed his master's attempt to maintain a nonchalant demeanour, "Are you referring to Miss Jang, sir?"

The general clicked his tongue in irritation, "Who else would I be asking about?"

His aide nodded, "Right, how silly of me. Well, it seemed like she was sleeping quite well when we returned her to her quarters. I haven't checked on her since then, but Eunsook has organised a group of servants to assist her with a bath and preparations for the day."

Seonghwa hummed in approval, doing his best to mask any sense of satisfaction, "Very well. She better be punctual for breakfast then, we shall see how she plans to prove her innocence."

Despite his insistence on you being suspicious, Jongho could discern that there was no malice in his master's words. Perhaps there was hope that things could work out between the two of you after all. It seemed like the general was already letting his guard down, even if only slightly; the assistant could see it.

Or not.

"Where the hell is she?"

Seonghwa frowned, growing impatient as he had been waiting for some time, and you were nowhere to be seen in the dining hall.

Breakfast had already been served, and he even had the servants prepare slightly more than usual, anticipating your need for extra food since you hadn't eaten dinner the previous night.

Just as he asked the question, Jongho pointed at the head maid rushing towards the dining hall, strangely without you in sight, "There, Eunsook's coming."

The elderly woman bowed upon reaching the dining hall, catching her breath before addressing the general, "Good morning, master."

He waved off the greeting, "What's going on? Where's Miss Jang? Were you not getting her ready?"

She appeared to hesitate in her response, stammering, "W-well, I was trying to, but—"

"But what?" Seonghwa pressed, annoyance evident in his tone. Sensing her master's foul mood, Eunsook knew she had no choice but to tell the truth.

Jongho nodded encouragingly at his colleague, not wanting her to get in trouble. The head maid lowered her head in defeat, "I arranged for her bath and everything first thing in the morning, and we've been stuck outside her quarters for nearly an hour. Master, she refuses to let us in. It seems she doesn't wish to be bathed or changed."

The general and his assistant found themselves baffled by the revelation. Your new husband struggled to comprehend why anyone would be foolish enough to refuse a pleasant bath and a fresh change of clothes. But he was becoming less surprised after witnessing your odd behaviour the day before. By now, he had accepted the fact that you were far from normal.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he pressed a hand against his head, "Just... if she doesn't want to be bathed that badly, leave it. Just tell her to come out and eat," He muttered, recalling your longing gaze fixed on the dishes during dinner, "Go, get her now."

"Yes, master." Eunsook bowed before heading back to you. She hoped that this time, you would finally show yourself. Her concern grew as she remembered hearing the anguish in your voice when you asked to be left alone just earlier.

To be sure, she checked with the nearby servants if you had called for anyone or even emerged from your room while she was away, only to sigh in disappointment when they shook their heads.

She raised her hand to knock gently, "Mistress, I've come to inform you that breakfast is ready. The master is waiting for you. He wants you to know it's alright if you prefer not to be bathed or changed, but please, come and eat."

Instead of providing comfort, that only heightened your anxiety. Was the general summoning you to further interrogate you? It seemed likely. If he were to see you in this state, he might resort to beating you to death in an instant. Surely, being wedded to someone like you would be an insult to the great General Park.

As appealing as the idea of breakfast was, you feared you might not get to eat, similar to the previous night. Especially not with your current appearance. You winced, feeling the ache in your stomach from going without food for so long.

Perhaps this is how you'll meet your end.

"Mistress, wouldn't you like to have some breakfast?" Eunsook made another attempt, her concern deepening as she noticed your silhouette huddled in pain in a corner.

You shook your head, holding onto your stomach, "No... I-I don't want anything! Just... just go away, please..."

Seonghwa's impatience reached new heights as he waited, and it only intensified when he saw the head maid returning once again, without you by her side. He narrowed his eyes, feeling stupid for trying to be considerate towards you this morning. Here you were, revealing your true colours by being an ungrateful brat already.

His anger finally erupted when the elderly woman bowed deeply with a regretful grimace, "I'm sorry, master. Miss Jang refuses to leave her room."

The general slammed his fists against the table, scaring both Jongho and Eunsook as he pushed himself off his seat, seething, "That's it. If it's my attention she wants, then she's about to get it."

In a panic, the two employees chased after their furious master, making pitiful attempts to calm him down, "Master, please, perhaps she is still emotionally recovering from what happened last night!" But no amount of words could extinguish the fire in Seonghwa's eyes as he stormed towards The Cold Palace.

Truth be told, the assistant and head maid had never seen the general so worked up over any of his fiancées before. In fact, he barely paid them any attention, and they would all flee the estate in less than a day. Had it been any other woman, he probably wouldn't have cared if she came to breakfast or not; he probably wouldn't even bat an eyelash if she died in her room.

But he was oddly affected by your absence.

"Get out of my goddamned way!" He roared, pushing through the servants working around the garden paths that led to your quarters. They scrambled to their knees, bowing their heads low to avoid angering him further.

Jongho and Eunsook shot apologetic looks as they hurried past the poor servants who were just trying to do their jobs. But they had no time to worry about their colleagues when they saw Seonghwa closing in on your room. They scurried over to hold him back, trying to prevent him from scaring you any more than he already had.

"Master, please—"

Before they could intervene, the general forcefully slammed the flimsy doors of your room open, causing one of them to break off its hinges. Your cowering form was immediately revealed, but your new husband was too furious to show any sympathy.

"Are you angry because I didn't give you the wedding night you desired? If you want it that badly, I'll give it to you right now." Without allowing you to respond, he yanked your arms away from your body and tore the outer layer of your hanbok open, exposing your innerwear and shoulders completely.

"N-no, please!"

In just a split second, all of his fury vanished.

The sight of the numerous marks covering your skin, along with the newly revealed ones on your face, left Seonghwa frozen in place. He couldn't move as he observed the bruises and scars scattered all over you, and these were only the ones visible. He dreaded to think about what might be hidden beneath the rest of your body.

What the actual f—

Having tortured more than enough prisoners as part of his job, he was able to distinguish between old and fresh wounds. Judging from all the ones on you, he was repulsed to realise that you had a bit of everything – your injuries ranged from years to a few months old. This meant that you had been enduring abuse for a really long time.

A series of horrified gasps escaped Jongho and Eunsook as soon as they entered the room and witnessed the condition of your skin. You let out a heart-wrenching sob, making a feeble attempt to cover yourself again, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." You whimpered, despite being violated.

It's over. My life... is over.

Feeling lightheaded from all the crying and prolonged starvation, your vision darkened, your eyes gradually fluttered shut, and you slumped forward. The general acted swiftly, catching you and, for once, displaying gentleness as he nestled your head into the crook of his neck, holding your fragile form close.

"Hand me the blanket." He instructed. The head maid hurried over with the fabric, witnessing her master wrapping you in it.

Rising with you in his arms, he moved toward his private quarters with a newfound determination, "Jongho, go summon Physician Jung." The assistant bowed and hastily departed to fulfil his orders.

Entering his room, he laid you on his bed and carefully covered you with the sheets. Examining you more closely now, he became aware of your true frailty. Carrying you earlier, he noticed how remarkably light you were, like a feather. He clenched his fists in rage as he took in the horrendous marks that marred your skin. The new bruise forming on your forehead from the night before only made him feel worse.

Letting out a sigh, he tenderly wiped away the tears staining your cheeks, "What in the world happened to you? Who did this to you? Who dare lay their hands on you, hm?" He whispered, his heart tightening with more guilt than the previous night.

Eunsook stood in the corner, witnessing the scene unfold before her eyes with mixed emotions. While she was pleased to finally see her master display genuine care and affection towards you, it saddened her to realise the extent of the hardships you had to go through to evoke this response from him.

At the same time, her heart ached even more at the sight of the visible evidence of what you had been trying to conceal from everyone. It now made sense why you resisted a bath; you must have been terrified of anyone seeing the marks on your body. The thought of the horrors you endured in the Jang estate sent a shudder down her spine.

"Sir, Physician Jung has arrived," Jongho announced at the entrance, awaiting permission to enter. Seonghwa nodded tersely, "Let him in." The general rose from his seat to greet the physician, a familiar face who had become somewhat of a family doctor.

"Good afternoon, General Park. Are you feeling unwell—" The physician's words halted as soon as his eyes landed on the frail figure lying on the bed.

"It's not me this time, Yunho. It's... my wife."

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"Jongho," The general called out softly, his eyes staying fixed on your unconscious form. Despite the softness in his tone, he was anything but calm on the inside. His aide stepped forward, "Sir?"

Finally shifting his gaze from you, he turned to his assistant, dead serious, "I'm going to need you to dig deeper this time. Hire a private investigator if necessary. Find someone willing to infiltrate the minister's estate and get someone to talk. Pay them as much as they need. Just find out what the hell happened while she was in there."

Deep down, he had a gut feeling about who might be responsible for all this, but he needed to know what exactly was done to you and why. He needed confirmation, and most importantly, evidence.

"General Park, I eagerly anticipate our forthcoming union. I assure you, my eldest is a gem; you'll come to adore her."

Recalling the smugness in Minister Jang's tone as he uttered those words, everything began to click. The puzzle pieces were coming together. The narrative of you being an accomplice for whatever your father had planned against him was finally being discarded; it was clear to him now that you were as much a victim as he was, except you'd had it much worse.

"Leave it to me, sir. I'll do everything to find out what happened to Miss Jang." The assistant said with determination, bowing.

Before he could leave, Seonghwa added, "Mistress. It's mistress to you all now. From today onwards, she's the official wife of General Park. I don't want to hear anyone calling her by that ridiculous surname ever again, understand?"

Jongho and Eunsook couldn't hide their smiles as they bowed rather enthusiastically, "Yes, master!"

Umm, surprise? HAHA I know I said I was sick, and I still am, but I'm feeling slightly better and gosh, not even the cold can keep me away from working on this! All your kind replies and messages got me so hyped, I had to finish this asap🤭

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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#edenesth #the way to his heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 7 months

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Pretty like the wind

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a/n Part five! here we meet again. Thank you for everyone who is reading this mess! 🤍✨

warning: lots of past trauma, Illyrian camp kind of trauma, anxiety, kids because some of you said it was a warning, same old things.

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Azriel's eyes were burning. It truly felt as if someone had dumped a bag of sand into his head and given it a little shake. But he didn't regret it. He wouldn't have done it any other way. As heartbreaking as the situation was, he didn't want to be anywhere doing anything else. That had frightened him when the late hours of the night first struck, and Azriel was the only one awake. It had clawed at his soul, urging him to flee like he was used to. Before it all got too real. All got too personal. Before Azriel started... to feel.

He was the one who had gone down to look for Zofie. You were barely standing on your own two feet. Swaying and cold as the snowflakes that Azriel had dreamed of the previous night. No, he told himself as he walked down the corridor; no one was dying here today. He wouldn't let it. He would bargain with fate if he had to. But would he? Yes, he was protective of his family. But he had known Cassian and Rhys for almost all of his life. Loving their mates came in the package. It was an honor to protect them. Loving Elain... Azriel realized that the thought of her, the thought of whatever had been happening or more of what Azriel hoped had been happening, hadn't crossed his mind as much lately. Was he forgetting Elain already? Was it never as serious as he had claimed?

Azriel found Zofie sitting on one of the stone steps in the communal. There were several females next to her, talking to her. But the girl sat firm as stone herself, arms folded over her chest, rosy cheeks damp with the tears she had wept. Only now did Azriel realize that he had never asked if the two kids were related. Siblings? Same family tree? Or were they just brought here and fallen in love with each other by destiny?

Her eyes found him almost immediately. Azriel could tell that she was fighting the urge to do what she always did when he was around—hide. But the flame that blazed within her kept her put. She was no bigger than Azriel's forearm, yet she stared him down as if she would find a way to escape him if she had to. Azriel folded his wings behind him, once again trying to appear smaller and once again realizing that there was not much he could do about it.

"You must eat, and sitting here won't change anything", one of the females stated, but Zofie had her gaze glued on Azriel. Urging him silently to sort this out. One stubborn girl, he thought to himself before he stepped closer, grabbing everyone's attention. "If you don't mind, I'll take it from here", he cringed slightly at how stern his voice sounded. Who in their right mind would leave a child with someone like him? He sure wouldn't do it himself. "You know him?", the female turned to Zofie. The girl contemplated her answer for a moment. "Axel's friend", she muttered. The room fell silent, and Azriel was about to fall into a long explanation when the female handed him a brown teddy bear, "She hasn't eaten lunch, and it's way past dinner time too. Find a way to feed her, please". Great, Azriel thought to himself, how he found himself in these situations over the past few weeks he was unsure of, but... The mortified eyes of them both sinking into the river flashed in front of Azriel. Those same eyes were looking at him now.

Azriel turned the teddy in his arms and asked, "Does he have a name?" if only his enemies saw him now. He would not be able to frighten a single soul. "Earless", the voice was so quiet that Azriel was grateful for his strong sense of hearing. "He only has one ear", the girl continued, pointing at the bear. "Quite straightforward", Azriel muttered, "Ear for short?", the girl nodded.

Azriel watched her for a moment before he crouched down to her level. "Okay, listen", he muttered under his breath, only to be met by Zofie's palm in front of him. "No, you listen", her voice was weary, and the way she shushed him had Azriel raising his brows. But it was when she spoke that his heart finally shattered that day, "Will you hurt Axel?"—the question that sounded so innocent on her lips, left such a bitter taste in Azriel's mouth. "No, of course, no. I don't want to hurt anyone", Azriel had opted to say but got interrupted by the girl once more, "And Y/N?". The spymaster's heart gave a louder thump at the sound of your name. As if urging itself into life. "Zofie, I ain't going to hurt anyone", Azriel's voice was strong yet gentle. "You promise?", her eyes had sparkled with hope. And, Mother, had Azriel forgotten just how powerful hope could be. He reached out his scared palm toward her, "On everything", Azriel muttered. Zofie held a firm gaze. To be this weary and strong-willed at such a young age. She was a baby. Everyone around her was meant to protect her. And yet here she was... But all of Azriel's thoughts died down as her tiny hand wrapped around his finger.

Now Azriel wondered if he hadn't overstepped with a promise like that. Was he once again trying to dig an easier path for himself? He had known what the girl wanted; it wasn't hard to guess. Someone who listened. Who heard her. Who was willing to fight for the little family she had found. Family that she was willing to protect. The weight of letting everyone down loomed over Azriel. Hanging there heavily. Pressing down on his chest. Drumming against his ribcage.

But all it took was the feeling of your hand moving over his chest. The weight of Axel's head on his lap. The feeling of a tiny frame pressed to his other side for it all to die down. Three slumbering frames. Grounding him without any clue. Breaking apart the stormy clouds. Something primal rumbled inside Azriel. Protesting against his fear. He had to keep these three heartbeats safe. He was willing to go the extra mile. He found himself thinking that if he was to find the people responsible... Find the camp. Oh, he would unleash his darkest demons upon them. Anyone who dared to inflict any harm

"Breathe", a delicate voice pulled at Azriel's consciousness. Guiding him. Guiding him back into his body. He blinked a couple of times. His gaze darted down to find your tired eyes looking up at him. "You're trembling", you muttered. Back in the day, Azriel would have taken a statement like that as an insult, but now he glanced at his hands. And he did find them shaky. But not for long. Not after you moved to lace your fingers with his.

"Did you have any nightmares?", Azriel had wanted to ask you how you'd known something like that. But then he remembered last night. Remembered the fear. Remembered... But it all drowned out at the thought of you. As if you rested his thoughts to bed. He shook his head. "Did you manage to sleep?", you asked, and Azriel jerked his head once more. "Azriel...", you breathed out, and oh, how much strength it took for him to not ask you to say it again. Because he had never cared much for his name. It didn't matter to him. People could call him however they pleased. But there was just something about the way you said it. The way it lingered. No bitterness. No...

"Hey, you're with me?", your soft palm guiding his face towards you. How many broken souls were in this room? How many hearts need healing? All of them, truthfully. And something about that realization made Azriel grow anxious. These kids, you—he could see you all healing the pieces that weren't even broken by you. Azriel took a shaky breath. His hand held onto your hip firmly. The shadows that sprung out of his control made him jump slightly. "Y/N", and Azriel knew that tiny voice, the weight from his side disappearing. "It's okay, grab a pillow for Axel's head, munchkin", you urge the girl softly, trying not to let the worry show. But the girl sat there, her eyes on Azriel. "It's just panic, Zo; we get those too, remember?", you reassure her, reaching for Azriel's hands and wrapping them around your middle.

You had a feeling he suffered from them. Had to. His head was too full of sorrow, worries, and guilt. And yet what he failed to see was that he was the only one holding his head under the water. "Come back", you whispered, trying to meet Azriel's eyes. Yet he was so deep in his mind. You could tell from the way his eyes had grown dull and ashy. So you did what you do best, pressing your palm to his chest, and your hand warmed. The glowing seeped through his skin. Sprouting. You reached for his face once more, slowly guiding his head onto his shoulder, catching it just in time as his body finally sagged. Pulling him under just like the very first time you two met.

"You can't leave them unpunished", you said through gritted teeth. Padme had asked for you to come to her office. And the conversation that had stretched out was making your blood boil, and your blood rarely boiled. "Y/N, they are kids", the high priestess said calmly. You huffed out a frustrated laugh, "Who needs to learn the weight of their actions." This whole conversation was making you see red. Yes, you were more protective of the two. Yes, you had made them your priority. But what you were asking wasn't something that couldn't be carried out.

"They are on the sanctuary duty list", Padme said almost in a dismissive manner. "P, you know...", you stepped closer to her table. You had seen her as a mother figure. Since the day you were brought here, she had been stern and rough around the edges, but she was fair. She was always fair. "Let's turn the question around", she said, lowering her pen, her eyes blazing at you, "Why are they still huddled around you like lost puppies? You know the rules". You bite the inside of your cheek. Fists clenched beside your sides.

If she saw it, she chose to ignore it, jabbing even harder, "You've been my most loyal worker, and you took a tumble with...", you shook your head. "Don't", you plead silently. Yet she doesn't seem to care about your wounds tonight, "The shadowsinger", "Don't do this,", you stated softly, your eyes already burning. You didn't need to lift your head to know that she had that tight smile on her face. "The days of all of this are counted; you do know that?" And you knew. You knew this wasn't for forever.

This place wasn't for forever. These people weren't. Azriel wasn't. You reached deeper into yourself, holding the broken pieces together and letting the wounds blend out. "I serve the sanctuary. My intentions haven't wavered", you said, letting your words seep through your gritted teeth. You feel the flicker of the flames within your body dying. You looked at the woman in front of you. Looked until the pain turned into nothing more than numbness.

"I'm going to start having issues with your hands. It's the second time", Azriel's voice found you in the hallway. You bit your lip as you turned to him before your face turned neutral. "How are you feeling? Are you able to breathe? Did you have another bad dream?", but Azriel quickly cupped your face, making the sound of your voice die down. "I'm fine; stop worrying", he muttered, his eyes locked on you. The tightness in your chest from that conversation with Padme eased. "If you can boss me around, so can I", You jabbed your fingers at his chest, moving away from him slightly.

"They are playing together. Axel was sitting up when I slipped outside", you gazed, darting back to him. How did he know that your mind just wandered back to the kids? How did he always seem to know? You nodded slowly. "We stretched our wings", Azriel muttered, your eyes pooled with worry and Azriel caught onto that quickly. "I was careful, and for the record, I have wings too. So...", Azriel said but you just shook your head. "It's good that you did. He just...", you let out a sigh, "Axel had never done that with anyone besides me".

Azriel couldn't help but frown, "He doesn't stretch his...", "His father was the one who broke the bones when Axel was trying to protect his siblings", the words just slipped past your lips. Azriel stiffened, his hands falling to his sides. "I found him all mangled up in the cellar when we were in one of the camps. His birth wasn't even marked in the books", Azriel had a feeling where this was heading. He had a feeling that twisted his guts. "Bastard didn't note it so he could do whatever he wanted", the spymaster finished, and from the sadness in your eyes, he knew that his words struck truth.

"Besides the pain, it causes Axel when he moves the wings", you continued, "He's just terrified... He said that every time he tried to fly back in the camp, his father...", "Don't even call that man Axel's father; he doesn't deserve that title. No male who puts their hands on a child...", Azriel snarled through gritted teeth. He turned away from you once he realized that his anger was boiling over the edge of his composure. Azriel took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. An ache ran deep within your chest. You had a feeling that this pain of his ran deep for a reason.

You second-guessed your next move. The way his shoulders stiffened, you could guess that the male was in fight mode. Yet you stepped closer, carrying yourself between the arches of Azriel's wings and carefully wrapping your arms around his torso from the back. Azriel took a deep breath before his palms wrapped around your smaller ones.

"I want to teach him how to fly and how to heal these scares", his voice was barely audible—the quietest you've ever heard him. "You know he'll love it. You bring sides of him that he holds close to his chest", you breathed against his back. "He's a good kid", Azriel stated, "He reminds me a lot of myself when I was his age". You can hear the ache in his words. Yet they don't surprise you. You could see it from the way Azriel looked at Axel. There were things only they understood. The pain that they both endured and that now linked them in ways no one else could comprehend. As if they were meant to find one another. As if Azriel was always destined to end up here.

"It looks better", your hand was softly inspecting the boning of Axel's wing. "It doesn't even hurt", he stated, his legs bouncing as he moved on the bed. "Can you spread them out?", you said gently. That's how the past couple of days have been. You only felt your anxiety subside when you saw Axel moving his wings. The anxiety that was way too deeply rooted within you. He tried to. You could tell, but the leather didn't even twitch. You bit the inside of your cheek.

Azriel pulled away from the wall he was leaning against, "Can you feel my fingers here", he asked, pressing the finger beneath the wing and leaning to the side to watch Axel's face. The boy nodded, and Azriel followed suit. "These are the main muscles in your back that support your wings", the spymaster explained, "Can you try to flex them?". And that's how it had been. That's how he had been. No matter what Axel did, he was always there. And no matter what Azriel said, it always made the inner flame in Axel burn brighter. It scared you. It scared you even more now because the conversation with Padem had been playing in your head without stopping. This is not forever. The time for this was counted. And you would get through it. You'll suck up the pain, but what about the kids? What about Axel? He looked at Azriel as if the male carried the whole world around in his palm. And Zofie? Who had been convicted that Earless had to go with Azriel if he was having panic attacks?

A fluster caught your eye, and a gasp slipped through your lips. Axel was holding onto Azriel's hand with both of his. The male had a firm grip on the boy's back, but the most important thing was that Axel was moving his wings. Slowly and not at all in a seamless manner, but he was moving them. "Good job", Azriel said, right as an excited shriek slipped from Axel. "Let them rest now, boy. Don't strain yourself", Azriel ruffled his hair. "Did you see it?", Axel's gaze was darting between you two, and you couldn't help but laugh. "I did, Ax", you leaned closer to him, kissing his cheek and making him squirm in your arms. You frowned slightly. "Are you suddenly too big for my love?", you asked him with a gasp. Axel whipped at his cheek, "Azriel is here. He's a soldier", the boy whispered, "Soldiers don't do that". You couldn't help but let out a laugh at that. Catching Azriel with a smirk on his face as he stood there, "I let you in on a secret", the spymaster said, and Axel nodded eagerly, "If a lady as beautiful and kind as Y/N were to smother a soldier, he wouldn't run", and he says it without breaking eye contact with you. All you could do was blink at him. Watch that smile of his blooming.

You were grateful for the cold wind that danced in your hair as you stood on the upper balcony. There was always something soothing about the wind. The way it sang as it flowed through the land. You knew that you should feel at ease. Everything was fine. Axel was napping, and Zofie agreed to go to her dance lessons. You had smoothed things over with Padme. But something felt off. Something was missing. Like an itch that you knew about but just couldn't seem to scratch. You wrapped your arms around yourself. Somewhere deep inside, you knew what was missing, but you didn't allow yourself to chase that thought. The fact that someone was able to shake your inner walls so easily and so quickly...

You felt his presence as if you had summoned him. As if he had a way of slipping through your mental shields. "You're going to catch a cold", you felt a cloak being draped around your shoulders, followed by a firm hold on your shoulders, and Azriel's wings warping you up, shielding you from the wind. "Be careful; the mother hen within you is showing", you teased him softly. It all felt so odd. The looks. The stolen touches. The way he was there. Always there as if he had indeed turned into your shadow.

You dared to glance up at him. Regretting that choice instantly because of the golden eyes that looked down at you.

"I got told off for tying the too-too wrong", Azriel stated, making you let out a laugh. You would trust Zofie to boss him around. "My tying technique is terrible, but she said I wasn't a lost cause", Azriel said as he shook his head. "One of them has to keep you humbled", you smirked at him. Azriel quickly pulled his wings up, making the wind crash into you. You shrieked before falling into fits of laughter, hair all over your face as you stared at the male in front of you.

Azriel was brisk to brush your hair out of your face as if it was second nature. As if he had been doing that for decades. As if he knew you for decades. Your eyes met, and for what felt like a thousand times, you let yourself get lost in him. Letting him look at you with the same crackling longing. The same way he had run his eyes over your body last night.

And you were convinced that you weren't thinking clearly. This wasn't you. Because you were not ready to admit this, but you muttered, "Kiss me...". You scanned as the muscles in his jaw tightened. The way his nostrils flared. You were convinced that you looked like a desperate girl because of the way you were nearly reaching on your tippy toes to meet his lips. Hand pressed against the toned muscles of his chest. But Azriel doesn't lean in. Doesn't come any closer. He just watches you. Thumb caressing the side of your cheek.

"Azriel", you muttered. Suddenly you become painfully aware of the fact that you must have read this all wrong. Must have moved too fast. He was here because of another woman. He was here because he loved someone he couldn't have, and here you were offering yourself as some easy piece of lamb. Azriel shook his head as if he had read your thoughts. Both of his palms reached up to hold your face, and your hands instantly reached to wrap around his wrists. "If I kiss you...", he breathed out after a long while. And from the sound of how raspy his words were, you knew it was taking a whole lot of effort for him to say anything now, "If I kiss you, I'll never be able to walk away", a breath hitched in your throat as you staggered to pull away. Feeling the splintering pain of your broken heart, cracking all over. But his hold doesn't ease; doesn't let you move away, as he states, "Rhys wants me back".

#azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #azriel spymaster x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar imagine #azriel acotar x reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar imagine

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aethon-recs · 4 months

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23 Tomarrymort Recs for 2023 (One-Shot Edition)

Happy birthday to Tom! 🤍 Here's a round-up of some of the most interesting one-shots that I came across in 2023. I tried to include a broad range of tropes and themes and ratings, but I haven't read everything published on AO3 in the past year, so feel free to suggest any others in the comment section or in my ask box!

Criteria for this list: one- (or two-) shot, complete, published in 2023. Can be read in 1 sitting. The 2nd part of this list (23 longfics updated in 2023) coming soon. Happy reading!

23 Tomarrymort Recs for 2023 — One-Shots

A Deathly Visit by @purplewitch156 (E, 7k, complete)

There once was a wizard who feared Death more than anything.

a dream is a wish by @funkyatheart (E, 5k, complete)

Harry is no stranger to wet dreams. Nightmares too, of course. They mingle, and blend together in all the wrong and most alluring ways.

A Total Absence of Light by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 8k, complete)

My name is Tom Riddle, and I am the Boy Who Lived. Something happened to turn Harry Potter into the Dark Lord, and I will do whatever it takes to learn his secrets. I don’t care that he killed my parents. I don't care that he stole my childhood. All I want is to earn the right to call myself his apprentice.

and you'll forget who i have been by @apodius (M, 3k, complete)

Tom hugs you, and for a second you relax. And then you feel a sting on your bicep through your shirt, and the world goes fuzzy.

Anniversary by @vdoshu (E, 4k, complete)

There’s a feather-light touch to Harry’s scar, one that lingers before trailing around the side of his face, coming to rest over his lower lip and tugging it slightly. Harry steels himself, then opens his eyes. “Hello, husband,” he says, facing Voldemort’s hungry gaze. “Happy anniversary.”

Apotheosis by @duplicitywrites (M, 7k, complete)

Growing up side by side with Harry Potter, beloved prophecy child, Draco learned two very important things: One, Voldemort was a god, terrifyingly monstrous and more powerful than any wizard on the planet. And two, Harry Potter was his.

Banish Me to the Garden of Eden by @contrarywiseizybel (M, 7k, complete)

Harry Potter had expected the green of the killing curse, not the red of a stunning spell. He couldn't have guessed that Voldemort would discover the truth first, and chose to trap his wayward horcrux. And in his new cage there is a very simple rule: behave and be rewarded, act out and be punished. He had been asked to die, never told to live.

Cicatrize by @noumena-writes (T, 5k, complete)

When hit with Voldemort's killing curse, Harry awakens in King's Cross. Only thing is, Dumbledore is not the one waiting for him there.

Frigid by @mrviran (E, 3k, complete)

In which one of Voldemort's Horcruxes is broken, and needs to be fixed.

Game On by penn_and_paige (T, 13k, complete)

Tom Riddle didn't pay attention to Harry Evans — that is, of course, until Evans tried to kill him.

haunt me, then by i_am_a_tree (M, 5k, complete)

"Death," Potter says, an inexplicable expression on his face that Voldemort instinctively does not like, “is quicker and easier than falling asleep." Voldemort does not deign that statement with a reply.

Honeyguide by @cannibalinc (E, 7k, complete)

“I need an Alpha," Tom states. "Someone older. Someone already established within the Ministry with strong connections. Someone kind, a bit stupid, and rich. A Pureblood, ideally. Someone who will soften my image.”

I'm Starving, Darling (Let me put my lips to something) by @winterdeath81 (E, 1k, complete)

Harry thought for a long time he didn't like kissing until he finds that he doesn't mind doing it with Voldemort.

Insatiate by @vdoshu (E, 2k, complete)

Voldemort stole both Harry and the Philosopher’s Stone, and doomed Harry to live a half-life. That was ten years ago.

it's kind of tripping me up babe, i've got it bad for you by @limonium-anemos (E, 3k, complete)

This could've been prevented if they were paying attention, Voldemort thinks. In which they get isekai'd into a cursed erotica book.

liquid luck by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger (E, 12k, complete)

Harry is a mermaid who happens upon sea monster Voldemort, who has nefarious plans for her.

Love, Murder, Horcrux by @moontearpensfic (E, 8k, complete)

Tom makes Harry his Horcrux on the night of their wedding anniversary.

Ouroboros by @loneamaryllis (E, 5k, complete)

Red eyes followed Harrie wherever she was, in his class, in the Great Hall, walking down the corridors, out on the grounds. She could feel the weight of his gaze upon her, like scales sliding across her skin, cold, smooth, and prickling every defensive instinct she had.

Research and Development by @cannibalinc (E, 6k, complete)

Primary Objective: Establish with certainty that Subject IS or IS NOT a living Horcrux. Captured audio sample from Subject: You can’t keep me in here forever, Voldemort! Why don’t you come in here and face me, you COWARD! I’m not scared of you! Dumbledore will find me and—

Right in Front of My Salad? by IceLynx (T, 2k, complete)

In which Draco Malfoy is dead in the kitchen, Harry is regretting moving in with his boyfriend, and Tom has never been more in love.

Plains of oblivion by @milkandmoon-ao3 (E, 3k, complete)

Trapped in the past with no way home, a disillusioned Harry executes a plan to make an ally of the rising Dark Lord and reshape history.

That's Money, Honey by @dividawrites & @duplicitywrites (E, 10k, complete)

Tom is a dear friend to many beautiful older women who love to treat him like their beloved son by spoiling him with presents. It is the perfect gateway to the perfect lifestyle—one full of frequent spa days, free holidays abroad, and all of the latest fashions. When Auror Harry Potter claims to be investigating Tom's 'inappropriate' relationships, Tom decides the best course of action is to instigate some 'inappropriate' behaviour of his own.

The Boy With the Green Ribbon by @meles-merrivale (T, 6k, complete)

In another world, what Sirius Black finds when he sprints into Godric’s Hollow that Halloween night is bad enough. In this world, it’s so much worse. It’s James—his best friend, his soulmate, the rest of him—dead in the doorway, and vibrant, warm Lily cold on the carpet, and there, standing in his crib seeing things no infant should see, is little baby Harry. And next to him, lying on the crib mattress, is the baby’s screaming head.

Would You Still Love Me? by @chiocchi (M, comic/artwork, WIP)

"Harry, would you still love me if I was a snake?" Harry knows how this question works. No matter how deranged and unreasonable it is, he has to say yes. A notion he may come to regret once Tom's questions start to get darker and oddly specific.

#tomarry #harrymort #tomarrymort #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #hp fic recs #one-shot recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #harrymort recs #2023 reads #2023 recs

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sissyisawitch · 3 months

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It'll Be Okay

Relationship: Sebastian Sallow x You

Summary: After the macabre events that occurred in the Feldcroft Catacomb, Sebastian is devastated. All he can think about is running away and pushing you away from him… but you don't plan to give up on him so easily.

Word Count: ~2.7k

Author's Note: This story is based on the song "It'll Be Okay" by Shawn Mendes. I hope you'll enjoy reading it!💙

Warnings: Major spoilers for the "In the Shadow of the Relic" quest + Angst

“I won’t let her suffer! Avada Kedavra!”

A flash of green light struck Solomon Sallow’s body, before it fell limp on the ground. Sebastian had done it. He had killed his uncle.

Oh, the future we dreamed of is fading to black…

He dropped his wand which clattered on the ground.

And just like that, you and Sebastian's future plans vanished, completely ruined. They used to seem so simple... you were supposed to cure Anne with the relic, make her return to Hogwarts, and then be happy all together with your little quartet of friends.

But as fate would have it, that was never going to happen.

A high-pitched, distraught voice brought you out of your thoughts, “Depulso!”

Anne had appeared in the Catacomb and apparently witnessed the whole tragic scene that had just unfolded, whereupon she herself attacked her twin brother, propelling him with all her might against one of the stone walls to stop him.

Driven by her fiery anger, she used what little strength she had left to cast a couple more spells to defeat the remaining Inferi and reduce Salazar Slytherin's Spellbook to ashes.

“NO!” Sebastian howled. He could do nothing but watch his sister destroy the book that was supposed to contain all the solutions to save her life.

“You’ve made your choice.” She said simply, before disapparating with the inert corpse of their uncle.

“Oh, Anne… What have you done?”

Oh, there's nothing more painful. Nothing more painful…

You were paralysed, unable to move even a finger after witnessing such a heartbreaking scene where a family was completely shattered, with no means or hope of ever repairing their ties. Poor Sebastian was left entirely alone, tears in his eyes, his face contorted by his crushing grief and regret. Merlin, you hated that sight with all your heart.

“I-I must get out of here.” He mumbled as he stood up and quickly looked at his surroundings, as if he were completely disorientated.

“Seb, wait!” You tried to hold him back, but Sebastian would not listen.

Instead, he fled. He ran like mad towards the exit of the Catacomb, desperate for fresh air.

“SEBASTIAN!” You shouted at the top of your lungs as you sped after him, hoping that it would be enough for him to hear you despite his head start.

It was only when you had made your way up the labyrinth of tunnels, once you were back in the Feldcroft countryside and away from the heavy atmosphere of the dusty Catacomb, that you managed to catch up with Sebastian.

Now that he was close at hand, you reached out to grab his arm, “Sebastian, stop!”

“STAY AWAY FROM ME!” He roared, sending your hand flying with more force than he would have used if he were in his normal state of mind.

You flinched out of reflex, but you were in no case scared of the boy. You never had been, and you knew you never would be. You understood that he was simply on edge and needed reassurance, so you kept your soft tone, “Seb–”

“STOP SAYING MY NAME!” He continued to shout in anger, but the way he was now gripping his hair and pulling at the roots showed that annoyance was being added to the palette of overwhelming emotions he was feeling at the moment. “For fuck’s sake I should’ve known better than to become friends with you in the first place.”

This. This last sentence. Maybe he could not scare you, but you too often forgot that he was still capable of hurting you, even if he did not mean any of it and it was his amalgam of panic and agitation that got the better of his words.

You tried your best to remain unfazed, “So what? You'd rather our paths had never crossed?”

“Yes!” He exclaimed without thinking twice.

I start to imagine a world where we don't collide…

For a moment, you lost yourself in your own thoughts. You imagined a parallel universe where you had never defeated Sebastian in Defence Against the Dark Arts, where he had never accompanied you to Hogsmeade on your first day at Hogwarts, and therefore a universe where you two had never become friends or exchanged a single word.

It also meant a world where you never fought trolls, goblins, and poachers together, where you never spent long nights in the Undercroft doing nothing but talking, where he never held you in his arms and comforted you whenever you were not at your best, resulting in your feelings for Sebastian blossoming into something much stronger and more genuine than friendship.

“Well, I don’t.” You finally answer.

“Well, you should.” He imitated your intonation with irritating impertinence.

You paid no attention to it, knowing better than to take any of his irrational actions into account, “Why?”

“BECAUSE I FUCKING RUINED YOUR LIFE!”

The screaming was back. Taking you by surprise once again. However this time, you were unable to react. The rawness and vulnerability of his words had hit you right in the heart, knocking the wind out of you.

“I have to go.” He muttered after your lack of reaction. He turned his back on you before setting off again, this time clearly determined to leave.

This was the moment that snapped you out of your stunned confusion, “Oh no, don’t you dare run away from me, Sallow!”

Your feet reacted even faster than your brain. You rushed towards him, but knew you would not have enough strength to hold him back, so you did the only best thing you could think of... You lunged at him and tackled him to the ground. Your body crashed into his with full force, causing his back to slam against the hard, cold, snow-covered ground.

“LET ME GO!” He fought back, kicking in all directions to try and push you off him.

“NEVER!” You pinned him down with all your strength. You were pressed on top of him while holding his hands on either side of his head, and keeping his thighs flat with your own legs. “Because you didn’t ruin my life, Sebastian.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now? I spent months teaching you dark magic. I just killed my uncle in front of you. You're a witness to a murder because of me! You could be sent to Azkaban BECAUSE OF ME! What more do you need to hate me? Tell me, because I'll do it right away if it means you'll stay away from me and be out of danger!”

And it's making me sick, but we'll heal and the sun will rise…

Sebastian's words made your blood run cold. Not because they made you reflect on everything he had put you through, but rather because you wondered how you were going to make him understand that you were not blaming him for anything, that the idea had never even crossed your mind.

“We can get past this. We can make things better together.” You said softly, unable to muster a better response.

He only scoffed bitterly.

“Sebastian, I don’t want to hate you, I want to be here for you!”

Judging that he seemed slightly calmer, you allowed yourself to release one of his hands to cup his cheek instead. With your thumb, you caressed his tanned skin, tracing the freckles splattered across his cheekbones. You did your best to convey your honesty and all your love for him through your delicate touch.

“No.” He replied firmly, leaving no room for negotiation, and then took advantage of your lowered guard to push you away again, this time with his hand which was now free. “Now leave me alone!”

If you tell me you're leaving, I'll make it easy…

You gave up being gentle and tackled him firmly to the floor again. You just needed him to listen to you for a few more minutes, “Okay. I won’t force you to stay if you don’t want to… But you need someone, Sebastian. Please, let me help you.”

“I don’t want your help!” He spat with a fury that was rarely seen in him. You had only seen it once... when he called you ignorant.

“Maybe you don’t want it, but you need it.” Now that everything had been said, you got out of his way to let him go if he so wished.

It'll be okay…

Sebastian sat up again, but stayed there, against all your expectations. You knew that all he needed was one last little push before he surrendered, so you insisted, “Don’t shut me out. Let me be here for you.”

“I–” His voice broke, giving way before he could even begin his sentence. His bottom lip quivered. “I didn’t mean to kill him. He attacked us… attacked you. I had to use the Killing Curse. You know I did!”

“I know. You did your best to protect me.” You reassured him by taking his hands in yours and giving them a little squeeze.

“I never meant for all of this to happen. I just wanted to help Anne.” It was not long before tears started to stream down his cheeks. “I want this hell to be over. Please make it stop.”

“I wish I could… but–” Now it was your voice's turn to fail you.

“I just want my little sister back.”

“I know you do… I know.” You swallowed hard to fight the tears that started to blur your vision. You could not allow yourself to cry. You had to stay strong for him. You had to be the pillar on which he could rest, because right now, he needed your help. If he saw you crying, it would only make things worse. This was not about you.

So you cuddled him against your chest, firstly to comfort him, and secondly so that he would not see the look of total dismay on your face.

“Ominis hates me too, and I can’t even blame him, because I hate myself too.” He was now full on breaking down, his head buried against your chest, and his tears streaming down your uniform jumper.

“I’ll love you enough for the two of us, then… until you learn to love yourself again, and even after.”

“I want the pain to stop. It’s been there for too long. I can’t stand it anymore.” The more time passed, the more erratic his breathing became.

“I know, baby. You’ve been so strong.” You kept spouting all the soothing words you could think of, in the hope that they would work on him.

“Please, make it stop. Please.”

“I’d take it all for you if I could. But I can’t, and I’m so sorry. I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel better.” You slowly ran your fingers through his silky brown locks, over and over again. Then you felt yourself losing your grip on your emotions, and soon your tears were flowing alongside Sebastian's.

Sebastian Sallow – the boy who was never afraid of anything and always had a trick up his sleeve – was on his knees in front of you, crying his eyes out, rendering him nothing more than the very image of misery and helplessness.

It was agonising to see the boy you loved in such a state, and not be able to do anything to make him feel better. How were you supposed to remain impassive in the face of that?

“Please fix everything. Fix me.”

“I can’t…”

And if we can't stop the bleeding… We don't have to fix it, we don't have to stay…

Sebastian's sobs continued unabated, “I’m scared to stay with you. I know I’ll end up doing something stupid and lose you too. Because that’s what I do… I do everything in my power to make the people I care about leave.”

This time, it was all too much. You could not let him belittle himself so cruelly. You grabbed his face between your hands and forced him to look straight into your eyes, not caring if they were red and swollen from all the crying, “Don’t say that. I know you made mistakes, but you’re one of the most brilliant wizards before anything else. You’re the only one who was great enough to steal my heart.”

“You’re everything I have left… I can’t lose you. Not you.” He clutched your shirt in his fists, as if he was afraid you would suddenly vanish before his eyes.

“Baby–”

Everything you were going to say died on the tip of your tongue... because Sebastian smashed his lips against yours.

You did not know exactly how it happened. You did not realise it right away because it occurred in less than a split second. And yet it was well and truly real.

There was nothing tender or romantic about that kiss. No, it was just rough, brutal and messy, reflecting all the despair they contained deep inside. It was a kiss full of passion, but not the kind that made you feel light and gave you butterflies in your stomach. Not at all, it was a toxic passion that burnt the wings off these butterflies and everything around them.

Sebastian was clutching you by the shoulders as if you were his lifeline, the only thing keeping him from tipping completely over into the darkness. And you, you kissed him back fervently, fighting the little voice in your head that was whispering to you that what you were doing was wrong, that you never should have discovered how salty his tears tasted as you kissed him for the first time.

You had to call a spade a spade, you should not be taking advantage of his vulnerability to get what you had always dreamt of... but you could not help yourself. Sebastian was hypnotic, and you could not bring yourself to pull away from him.

It was he who retreated first, and you instantly hated how his big chocolate eyes were filled with nothing but sheer panic, “I feel like I’m going to die without you… What if I die without you?”

Your heart pounded so hard to the point where it felt like you had a lump in your throat. You let out an overwhelmed and broken sob, “You’ll never find out because I’ll never leave you. You hear me? Never. I’m here for better or for worse.”

I will love you either way…

Sebastian let himself fall against your chest, and you welcomed him into your arms without the slightest hint of reluctance. You let him rest there, let him cry, tremble against you, while you caressed his untameable hair and whispered sweet nothings in his ear, doing your best to stop your own tears from flowing. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, but it felt like an eternity. You were probably freezing and soaking wet from sitting in the snow for so long, but thankfully you were unable to feel it thanks to the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Shh… It'll be okay…”

It might be so sweet… It might be so bitter…

In the months you had known Sebastian, you had imagined an infinity of different scenarios of the two of you kissing for the first time. None of those fit with the reality of Sebastian breaking down in your arms after committing murder. The situation had nothing in common with what you had wished for the two of you. You had finally got what you wanted, but you hated it. You just wanted to scream. Fate was even more cruel than you believed.

"Make the pain go away, please." Sebastian begged desperately, echoing your own inner thoughts.

"I'll do everything I can. I’ll do everything to give you the future you wanted." You cried uncontrollably.

Oh, if the future we've dreamed of is fading to black…

Minutes, hours passed, and your tears eventually dried. You spoke again, very quietly, as if afraid to frighten the peace that was slowly beginning to return, “We’ll get through this together, alright?”

“…I’m a monster.” He declared with resignation. He too had run out of tears to cry.

“You’re not.” You replied with just as much conviction.

“What if I get even worse? What if I end up hurting you?” He asked quietly.

“I will love you either way.”

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow angst #hogwarts legacy fanfic #fanfic

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heavenlyraindrops · 7 days

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♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Ten ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Ten Warnings: profanity Click on the first tag to see all the other chapters

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Ten]

You pressed the stone on your bracelet feverishly in a string of long and short beeps, hoping Lucifer would receive it.

They know. Me and you. They know.

The stone lit up, indicating he had heard you. You pulled your sleeve down over the accessory, and smiled brightly at Avery, one of the exorcists, who was approaching you down the street. She smiled back, but it was shadowed with the disappearance and probable death of her friend who hadn’t come back from the extermination a week ago.

You’d met in the street and she had stopped you to talk- something that happened to you quite frequently whenever you went out. But now you were itching to get away, now that Adam knew- anyone could have known.

“Well well well. Look who it is.”

You turned your head to see Adam and Lute. Avery perked up.

“Adam, Lute! How was the meeting?”

Adam yawned animatedly. “Boring. Lucifer’s-“ his eyes shifted towards you “-brat showed up. Has some stupid hotel for redemption or something.” His snickers turned into a flurry of raucous laughter, and even Lute next to him looked smug, yet contemptful.

“Er, what?”

Both their eyes turned to you in unison.

“What meeting?”

“We had a meeting in the Heaven Embassy. Charlie Morningstar was there,” she explained slowly, as if you were stupid, and also because Adam had just stared at you for a good six seconds without any response. “She wanted to redeem sinners,” Lute spat.“Stupid idea.”

Your mind swirled at Charlie’s name, and you bit back your objection- if angels could fall, why couldn’t sinners rise?- but you decided it was best to not disagree with Adam for the time being.

“Agreed,” you said rigidly. Adam nodded, as if he was pleased with what he heard, then turned to Lute.

“C’mon danger tits,” he said. “Let’s get outta here.”

You watched them disappear down the street.

“Well he’s quite a character,” Avery piped up. You turned to her. You had forgotten she was there, you realized, taking in a deep breath and sighing it out.

“Right. Well. There’s not much one can do.”

Avery laughed. “He’s the first man. Do you ever think it got to his head?” She fell silent, flushing. “Don’t tell anyone I said that, though.”

You gave her a wan smile. “Don’t worry. I can keep a secret.”

♱♱♱

Your hand gripped the edge of the sink, before your eyes met your own haggard reflection in the glass in front of you. You winced at your eyebags, which boasted your lack of sleep proudly, and your dull complexion.

One month left. You still hadn’t decided.

You debated between going to the living room and tidying up a bit, or going back to your bedroom and falling asleep for what could hopefully be at least a year. You could wake up and realize this was all just a dream. The past seven years, since the day you had met Lucifer, had been just a dream. You slunk back into your bedroom, shutting the door and climbing into bed. Something drifted out of the sheets and landed soundlessly on the floor, and you bent down to pick it up.

A single red feather. From his wing.

Something swelled in your throat, tears threatening to spill out from your eyes. You sniffled, then bent over, shoulders racked with silent sobs. You ran a hand through your hair, fingers tangling with the strands and tugging it involuntarily.

A couple of quick, polite knocks on the front door snapped you out of your state. You sniffled again, wiping your eyes hastily. They sounded nothing like Adam or Lute, who usually knocked as if the door was unbreakable, or simply barged in. You picked your way across the messy living room and opened the door.

“Sera,” you said, trying to make your voice sound bright and welcoming but it just rasped out instead. Sera’s smile began to fade once she saw you, her eyes looking up and down, taking you in, in all your exhausted glory.

“[name],” she said, and her voice betrayed no emotion. You tilted your head to the side.

Fuck. She knows.

“Yes?” You said dryly, trying to hide the fact that your heart was going a million kilometers per second.

Sera cleared her throat, straightening up. “I’ll cut straight to the point.” You stiffened, waiting for the blow. “Heaven has visitors. From Hell, arriving this week, to plead their case in court- that redemption may be possible for sinners.”

You nodded slowly, the dread melting away as you relaxed.

“We need a place for them to stay, only for a little while, and seeing that you are- supposed to-“ she frowned as your stare darkened, “-be one of the most powerful souls here, due to your purity-“

“You want me to take them in while they’re here,” you said flatly. She nodded and smiled, continuing, trying to convince you, confident she would.

“It’s safer to put them with you than some random hotel, and your house is quite big, you’ve got plenty of guest rooms, and you’re quite- supposed to be-“ she waved her hands around, as if she was trying to bat your sharpening glare away from her, “-proper, collected… neat and tidy…” Her gaze drifted behind you into your living room and she winced.

You twisted your head round to look over your shoulder, then snapped your eyes back to her. “I’ll get myself presentable for them,” you said gruffly. Sera smiled again, and you wondered if she actually believed you. Clearing your throat, you forced a smile, even though it came out as a grimace.

“So. Who exactly are these lovely… wayward souls?”

Sera’s expression hardened. “Charlie Morningstar, the Princess of Hell,” she said stiffly, and then relaxed. “And some other… sinner who she’s going to bring along with her.”

The word ‘Morningstar’ knocked the breath right out of you.

“Oh,” you managed to utter. Sera smiled tightly. You cleared your throat.

“Well.” You squared your shoulders. “I look forward to meeting her. Sera nodded shortly.

“I’m sure you do.” Her voice dropped as she leaned forward suddenly, and you took a step back. “[name], are you sure you’re alright?” You forced a smile.

“I’m just fine, Sera.”

♱♱♱

A/N: Hey guys! Rain here. Multiple things I’d like for it to be known:

-Exams are coming up, and I have a fuck ton of stuff to study. It’s meant to be one of the most important exams in my course so… it’s a pretty big deal.

-Meaning, this might be the last chapter I’ll be able to get out for a while. Either that, or updates will be slower. Luckily, once exams end I have three months of freedom and will be able to update as much as possible!

-until then, I am going to write oneshots now and then, and am also opening my requests! More details are on the pinned post on my blog. (Pls send me a request it makes me feel cool… :’) no like please PLEASE SEND REQUESTS I literally have nothing to write otherwise)

-all I’m saying is, I just won’t be able to write as much cause I’ll be super busy. Don’t worry haha I am NOT going on Hiatus. The taglist is still open.

Taglist: @boredlime, @ica1, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter, @lucky-flowey,@kitty-kei, @thornwolfy235, @w31rd3rg1rl, @marxo5, @lvstyangel, @brainz00, @lukerycyja-reblogs, @dickmastersworld,@everlastprime259-blog, @rain-doll401-blog, @bakugounuggets, @ren-ren23, @mjhehe09, @angelicwillows, @rayyrayysanchez, @luleck, @dellugh-shposts, @rebecca-hvnstn, @l0v3lyx, @ravenswritingroom, @rattyrattyratty, @lovayle, @relatedsoda, @cimadreamer, @valckenaux, @lauruoriii, @deardaffy, @randompersonnotoneaeth, @bloody-delusion-expert, @vampirefilmlover, @lillianastuff, @tsukiko26

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artful-aries · 1 year

Text

Genshin Headcanons: Sleeping With You (SFW) Childe, Kaveh, Xiao

Finally got around to writing something about my boy Kaveh. He lives in my brain rent free~

Childe:

He’s a bit clingy at night, always has to have an arm around you tight or he can’t sleep

It stems from his desire to protect you; his line of work isn’t a bed of roses, and it makes him a lot of enemies. He likes the physical reminder that you’re safe in his arms even when he’s unconscious

Childe snores, but it’s not very loud. It would be more akin to very heavy breathing than it would actual snores

If you’re a restless sleeper you don’t have to worry; once he’s out he is OUT. He’s likely not going to stir again unless you actively go out of your way to wake him up

Despite being entangled with you almost the entire night, Childe doesn’t radiate much body heat, so it’s not too uncomfortable to sleep with him in that regard

With his snores occasionally comes with a bit of drooling, so be prepared to not be in the splash zone before you fall asleep

In the morning when he starts to wake up, he pulls you even closer to his chest, almost as if he’s scared you’ll leave if he doesn’t

He would never admit this to you, but your presence in bed has rid him of his nightmares, a fact he is extremely grateful to you for

Kaveh:

Another cuddle bug, but not as extreme as Childe. He would just have an arm wrapped loosely around your waist or lay his head in your shoulder

Kaveh is mostly quiet as he sleeps, sometimes his breathing gets a little heavier if he’s completely wiped out, but overall it’s quiet

Sometimes when he dreams he sleep talks, but it’s mostly unintelligible murmuring. Once in a while, you can tell he’s arguing with Alhaitham in his sleep by the furrow of his brow and the word “arrogant” being muttered several times

He has a comfortable amount of body heat, it’s not too cool but not uncomfortably hot either

The biggest struggle with sharing a bed is miraculously getting his hair all in your mouth at some point in the night

If you complain to him, he will start wearing his hair in a ponytail to bed, but it inevitably falls out in the middle of the night

Kaveh will get a little whiny in the morning if he wakes up to find that you have migrated away from him. He almost takes it personally, wondering if he did something wrong to earn your lack of physical affection during the night

You’d have to remind him that you can’t control what your body does when unconscious, and that you definitely do still love his clingy self

Xiao:

He’s honestly one of the worst people to sleep with if you’re a light sleeper. Nothing is worse than rolling over and finding him just staring at you, unblinking in the dead of night

You can’t blame him though, what else is he supposed to do as you sleep? As an Adeptus, he doesn’t need sleep like mortals do. It’s something he only does if he gets very injured

Xiao does understand that mortals need sleep regularly at least, so he does his absolute best not to wake you

He almost tries too hard, becoming rigid like stone in an attempt to minimize his movements

You’d have to teach him how to relax in bed with you, but he still never fully gets the hang of it

Xiao gets better though, he will wrap an arm around your waist or let you sleep on his chest if you asked for it

Sometimes to help you, he will close his eyes and pretend to sleep so that you aren’t put off by him watching you sleep

When you do finally fall into a deeper sleep, he takes the time to admire you, perhaps even gently stroking your hair as he does. He finds it easier to be soft with you when you aren’t awake

While he does take some joy in watching you in a peaceful state, Xiao is extremely grateful for when you wake up. Laying down for eight hours with nothing to do can get a little awkward for him at times, and he misses your company, though he would never say that

#genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin x reader #reader insert #genshin imagine #xiao #xiao x reader #kaveh #kaveh x reader #Childe #childe x reader #Tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagine

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dreemurr-skelememer · 3 months

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I'm gonna be anonymous when I say this because I have seen this done by many people... I strongly dislike the "Error and Nightmare gang are the good guys and trying to make the universe stable while The star sanses are the idiots who will not see reason" .. Like... I .. really? I'm not sure if the reason why I don't like it is because I have seen it so many times or what but it annoys me dearly. The members of the star sanses are reasonable and they are just often made as one sided ignorant people- I mean okay Lets go on the different pov, on the bad sanse side: You see them risk their lives every day getting themselves hurt over and over again all to defend different worlds for the sake of bringing what they believe to be peace and you label them as the fools who just want all the glory- really??? people who get hurt over and over again just do it for that stupid reasons??? I mean come on! Seeing as generally it is shown that the bad sanses want peace as well why not be trying to reach an agreement??? you fight over and over again and you couldn't even be bothered to try and reach their heads to finally listen to what you are saying like what "in a way" dream has done with nightmare countless times but they cant do the same? Just have them fight knowing that the other side are in the wrong and you choose to do nothing but break them?? Like is this your pride or something?? Why are they labelled as good guys yet they allow the other side to fight to their deaths with a good motive in mind but they only lack the full picture?? How am i suppose to "root for you" if this is what you do????? We get inside information of how peaceful they are and how they care for each other deeply, but if you care so much for each other why would you allow the other side to keep fighting your loved ones when they are missing the big picture, you know the big picture yet you say... NOTHING. NADA. ZILCH!! you cannot tell me that they don't listen to you when you barely speak up about the true issue or find a way to show them- you maybe say it once or twice in the whole story and then any other time you go straight to fighting or just avoid them.. COWARDS!! ALL OF THEM!! And in these stories the star sanses always state their reasons for their interference yet you cannot tell them why you are doing this?? All that comes out your mouth are insults and sneers, who would want to believe you when that is all the comes out of your MOUTHS... Excuse me... Just pissed sorry for the long rant.. Oh my gosh AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON DREAM AND NIGHTMARE, DUDE YOU GOT THE BALLS TO BLAME YOUR KID BROTHER FOR BEING A KID AND NOT RECOGNISING YOUR TRAUMA EVEN NOW AS YOU ARE MUCH MORE MATURE AND HAVE THE ABILITY TO REALIZE WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU BOTH AS CHILDREN????? Is he the one holding onto the past or is it you??? Night is always depicted as the dadmare, boss, the caring lover, the brother yet he doesn't even have the decency to face the fact he abandoned his brother in stone for 500 years or so, when he comes out you automatically hate him for something he had no idea or control of and choose to ignore his pleads, when your brother wants to reach you, you break him over and over again not wanting him in your life ever again when as i said before he was your "KID BROTHER" and you want to tell me your the good one for just wanting to cut him off with no answers or anything? You gotta be pulling my leg bro... and it would be a different story if the dreamtale background is different but no! it isnt! nothing is said to make it seem dream was an abuser of sorts, they were both hurt and yet you blame dream for all of it you have a whole ass support system yet that is your mindset??? I cant.... I really cant Uh sorry again for this long ass rant though =w=

anon our souls are holding hands resonating as one

my two cents on this (that isn't something i said. a million times before already) is that it's usually because people refuse to see the star sanses in the same light they do the bad sanses the people who actively dislike the star sanses and what they do usually do so because they can't relate to them, from what i've noticed

the bad sanses are easier to root for because of the fact that they are made of struggle and the dirty, gritty parts of morality and life so to say it's easier to think of good things in the middle of so much bad, because it's in our nature as people to look for hope or root for the good, no matter how little it is having the ability to look for goodness and love in so much evil is a form of love in of itself everybody struggles and life sucks and sometimes the world is evil and sometimes we do bad things, but that's the thing, the fact that we as people find something good in the middle of it all (like finding familial love bloom in the bad sanses, as an example) is very inspiring. at least to me!!! that's how i see it!!!! that's how i like to think people see it as well because that's how i see and enjoy them together so i can totally see why people find more relatability and love for the bad sanses. i really do get it and i agree!! like a lot!!!!! i love them too

but that exact reason is also why it really sucks that people just don't see the star sanses in the same light?

i wanna reemphasize my point in relatability: it's difficult for most people to relate to the star sanses because inherently they are the heroes, the protagonists, the main characters, because nobody are any of those things i feel like people often put them on a pedestal because of their central tropes and characteristics. they have it all already, they don't need more praise, right?

i think the biggest problem people have with the star sanses, like your whole ramble very clearly shows, is that they don't humanize them i feel like a lot of people assume that just because they are good and choose to be good and are praised for being good, they are unreachable people don't think they struggle. that it sucks being that.

it's often why i like writing the star sanses with so much struggle and so much mental illness lol, because being good is fucking HARD and they're as imperfect as everybody else. dream is anxious, ink is brash, blue is a workaholic, stuff like that

there's a lot to say but it's just....the bad sanses and the star sanses are two sides of the same coin. the bad sanses is finding good in the middle of, basically, evil and misdeed the star sanses is finding struggle in the middle of trying to do good

people often portray both of them black and white morals and it's why it gets frustrating and flat and badly written.

idk, just like how i find inspiration in the bad sanses of finding hope and love in the middle of darkness, i really admire the implications of the star sanses when you actually decide to humanize them. because if you make the star sanses struggle throughout their praise, glory, and righteousness, it's...really admirable that they still choose to do good.

like you said, the star sanses risk their lives often and fight, offering treaties and agreements, just to make things right that's so??? admirable????? like for the amount of times the bad sanses fucking fight them, i genuinely would've just given up completely, but they just....don't??? and that's so admirable and sweet? it makes them so deserving of their titles as guardians.

idk!!! this is a massive ramble too, i don't even know where i was going with it but like, yeah, i think i wanted to talk mostly about why people preferred the bad sanses over the star sanses and how it makes me sad i get you anon. with my whole body and my whole soul. i understand what you mean and i see you

#Anonymous #idk like. if these fuckers were real and protecting my multiverse id spare some sympathy for them #i would hate for people to call them stupid for not trying or not being the best bc theyre literally the only ones keeping me alive #< (hypothetical situation btw. thought id say that again in case it wasnt clear)#ive already talked enough about how i dont like people making the star sanses evil (unless its written well)#and pretend that everything the bad sanses do is good and that theyre sweet wittol babie beans #like what if i like them evil. they would kick my ass and that's what i prefer tbh #anyway yeah............different flavor ramble from me today i guess. im just sad the star sanses arent humanized ever

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idkfitememate · 2 months

Text

Got bored couldn’t sleep so here are my jumbled up thoughts from 1 AM, sorry if it’s misspelled or not GN (plus idk who the character you’re speaking too is as I write this note) I’m not in an aware state of mind rn LMAOOOO-

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-”

Over and over you repeated those words to a still Tanjiro as you clutched at his pants, kneeing on the pebble-ridden ground.

Behind you and in front of him was a desolated village, corpses strung about in different ways.

Blood soaked into your skin and caked your hair. The iron stench followed you as your fingers forced the crimson liquid onto this clothes, taunting him with your sin.

That same sin that left your mouth a bloody mess.

He could recall a time, a much happier time, when he would call to you on summer days and you’d both sit in your worn and hand-me-down clothes and shoes, holes stitched closed and teeth missing, in the middle of flower fields. One making a flower crown for the other as you both stared into the bright blue sky speckled with fluffy white clouds.

How you’d knock your heads together, you always complaining about how hard his was - like stone you’d say - when you both laid in the tall grass.

How your hand would encompass his as you dragged him through the streets of the small town down the mountain from where he lived.

Where he lived…

Turning away from your still sobbing form, he took a glance at the mountain in the distance.

His mountain.

… Once upon a time, that had been your nickname for him.

“My Mountain.”

It was meant to show how he was the one thing keeping you grounded, something to look and gaze upon in awe and wonder. A force of nature not to be trifled with and a pillar of hope amongst men.

… His sword felt heavy in his hand. A part of him itching to get it over with. He’d raise his arm up high to the gods and slash it down with honor. To feel the blood on his skin.

Your blood.

Another part desperately wanted… no. Needed to understand why. Why you choose to become this, this is… if you choose.

A scene of thick snow in a barren forest played through his mind. That same stench that floated around you filled his nose with the sharp coolness that winter often brought. A heavy weight on his back as tears blurred his vision, causing him to misstep and fall, tumbling down a small… it was larger than a hill but smaller than a cliff, he reasoned.

That horrid growling that haunted his dreams. It had gotten better as months passed, but that first growl he heard had been etched into him, into his very soul. Stitched into his being as a driving force to ensure he never heard it again.

That she’d never make that noise again.

Your wails broke him out of his trance, cold gaze meeting your puffy eyelids as you sobbed louder, his eyes locking onto your sharpened teeth, still stained with blood, something small stuck to your canines.

Hair and flesh.

His stomach twisted but he forced the feeling down. With how wide your mouth was opened, he could see down your maw and into your throat. He watched as it flexed and moved, gyrated almost, as you forced those retched screams and cries from your throat, begging for some kind of mercy.

He was sickened, as he had every right to be. You were no longer human. You had committed a terrible sin, his mind reminded. Unlike the one he was trying to save, you gave into those urges, those horrid, vile and canabalistic desires.

Though, could they be called canabalistic anymore?

You weren’t human.

Your sharpened nails tore through the fabric of his pants, gracing his skin with red lines that slowly began to bleed. Your eyes, when they opened, had oddly shaped pupils and shining colors, entrancing almost. Your skin was unnaturally colored, with bulging veins running across the surface. Your hair was a shade no humans could ever reach, shining and plentiful and in seemingly good health, unlike when you were… alive.

He remembers when you both had met for the first time.

He was younger and his father was in much better shape, taking both coal and wood down the mountain with his son not far behind.

Your mother owned a small stand that sold small hand-made trinkets and otherwise made from wood.

He was hugged to his father’s leg as your mother bought wood directly from him to carve, her fingers marred and covered with bandages. He then saw you.

Your face was sunken and your eyes just a bit too big for your head. Or perhaps it was the fact that your head was just practically the skull, no fat or anything of the sort. It was the same for your body.

Small and thin, your clothes hung baggy off your body, almost looking two sizes too big for you. Your hair was thin and ragged, looking like a doll with its hair pulled out in chunks.

Despite this, you smiled at the other with far too many missing teeth, waving with your also bandaged hands.

He waved back.

Looking at you now as snot and tears dibbled pathetically down your face and into your mouth, that of which then drooled lazily onto the earth, he could still see some of the old you, the one he knew, in there.

They way the breeze shook you gently as though it would take your fragile body with it - no matter how light - or the way he had saw you hungrily shoving fistfuls of the meat down your mouth as though it might be stolen from you, how you shivered and jittered when you saw him in excitement before slowly beginning to shake and cry uncontrollably.

A small part of him felt bad, with how you crawled towards him on hands and knees, practically begging him to forgive you. How you prostrated yourself before him as though that would change anything, pleading with him to ‘help you’ and to ‘save you’.

His mind screamed that you were beyond saving.

That you were nothing like his sister.

He hadn’t even noticed his own crying until he felt sharpened claws on his cheek, though they weren’t yours as they were still buried to the hilt in his leg.

Instead, his gaze locked onto pink serpent like eyes, veins noticeable as the pupils dilated and contracted with visible worry. Long black hair with orange ends blocked you from his line of sight as the one he was doing this - all of this - stood before him.

His sister.

She turned to look at you, that same mixture of disgust yet pity rushing over her, he could smell it.

The siblings stood and stared down at your form as you continued to wail and cry. His sibling at his side gently grasped the blade in his shaking hand as she helped him raise it skyward, her palm gripping the back of his.

But just before they could release the blade-

“Wait!! Please!!”

A females voice called out from the carnage.

And out from your tiny hut at the end of the village crawled your mother.

She looked better than she had in the past, her skin having a much healthier glow than it had last time they had saw her, and she was much more steady on the old crutch the boy had seen her using as he left town to help his sister at the very start of their journey.

She hobbled over to your crying form, ‘shushing’ you and bending down, the crutch falling with a ‘thud’. She grabbed your head and rested it on her chest, running a hand through your hair as you continued to cry and beg for forgiveness. Tongue and throat bleeding from how worn they had become from your screams and hollers.

“I’m here… mothers here… you were doing so good… I know you didn’t mean too…” Her words settled over the scene like freshly fallen snow.

Her clothes and skin were untainted by your sin, a stark contrast to you, the boy, the girl - who had all but been drenched in blood by this point - and the bodies of those around you.

He couldn’t bear to look into their faces as he knew he’d recognize far too many of them.

Far to many lives snatched away.

He wondered how your mother, bless her heart and soul, could even look at you in this time. She obviously knew that you were the cause of this carnage and chaos, so how could she?-

“After you left,” she began, her words slicing through his train of thought, “the people turned on us. I could no longer offer my goods and services as we had no one to chop wood.”

You shook and shivered in her grasp, heaving heavily, greedily taking in massive gulps of air as though you deserved it despite the lives you took.

“It got to a point where we were forced to survive off the scraps and otherwise. Our home was taken from us and we were left in the alleys, begging to whomever would listen.”

Your voice was gone so you whimpered into her chest, listening deeply to her beating heart, something you would never allow to stop as long as it was in your power.

“Then one night, under the shadow of the moon, a man wondered into our quaint little alley. His eyes were as red as a plum, his hair as black as ink. His suit was western, black, white, and embroidered with gold.”

The boy watched as his sister’s eyes grew wide for a moment before lowering into a glare. He could hear your growl slightly from your face pressed into your mother’s neck.

“He attacked in a moment, speaking something of ‘not much, but it’ll do.’ He went for me first, I assumed it was because of my naturally weak state, so I resigned to my fate with little resistance, hoping he would spare my child in good faith. But instead, they jumped on his back, throwing hands on his eyes and head butting him, much like you would’ve, they said.”

She sighed, then moved your head to her thighs, you nuzzling into them with a whine.

“He pushed them into a wall, then jabbing a finger into their forehead. He glanced coldly at me, telling me I’d make a ‘Good first meal’. That was the day we learned of… Demons”

Her voice shuddered as she continued to run fingers through your hair.

“Though, when they awoke, they did not attack me, they stared. We learned the next morning of their vulnerability to the sun, I quickly hid them away. Forced them down from their sudden hungers when they showed, forcing them to sleep instead.”

The boy glanced to his sister. That was something you had in common, it would seem.

Sleep to hide the hunger pains.

“They were doing great, up until a few hours ago. Someone had taken things… too far. He stole my crutch, demanding I wed him despite my decrepit form, claiming he had eyes on me before my late husband. And when I said no, he slammed me to a wall, saying I had no say in the matter and he was to wed me anyway. That I should’ve felt happy that someone even glanced my way anymore, that I was ungrateful for not jumping on the opportunity, especially with a child living in poverty with me. I, of course, still said I objected, and then he… he slapped me. Something inside them snapped I tried to hold them back but… I suppose they were just tired with how they all dared treat us. Either as monsters tormenting us, or by-standers doing nothing.”

All eyes melted into your form as you snored lightly, chest finally rising and lowering at a normal pace. Tears still ran down your face, however.

“Truly, they are sorry. Don’t you understand?”

Her hand went to the boys sister.

“You hold onto one just as closely as I. Do we not share a similar sorrow?”

‘We do.’ They boy though, wanting nothing more than to steal his sister away from this world, to stow her away from this worlds gaze till the end of time.

And yet, he had a duty to the people, and you had broken that cardinal sin.

So with his still raised hand, connected to his sister, he whispered an apology to both you and your mother, before swinging it down before her eyes.

Your head rolled peacefully off to the side, a smile and ‘thank you’ on your lips as you faded away, the dust of your form clawing into the air.

In your place, your mother wailed.

Two pairs of arms wrapped around her, grief filling the town as all three began to wept for innocents lost and time never to return now that it had been lost. As they huddled like a family, kneeling on the dirt pathway, as your mother’s kimono became drenched in your sin, the blood of others.

As the sun began to rise and they all moved into a still standing home, taking off their shoes as they entered. As they laid down onto the futon together on the tatami, cuddled into each other’s warmth.

Sobs dying down and becoming echos of the past as three heartbeats became one, breaths slowing to near halts as they reluctantly relaxed and gave into the gentle hands of sleep.

Then, Tanjiro woke up.

Surrounded by a softly snoring Nezuko and curled up Zenitsu who grumbled with the foot of a starfish-posed Inosuke in his face to his right.

On his left?

You and your mother, her skin, nails, and eyes matching yours as you both cuddled to his side to share warmth. His eyes met hers as she smiled.

“Thank you… for saving us from that awful fate Tanjiro…”

Her lips curled into a smile as you muttered something in your sleep, her arm reaching over you to push you into her body. Her arm continued to stretch, petting the redheads head.

“Your kindness truly is a gift of the gods…”

She yawned, licking her lips, before letting her head rest on the pillow given to her and you to share.

“Thank you…”

Tanjiro smiled at the people around him.

At his family.

Feeling safe and protected, he let himself drift off, feelings of comfort and contentment rushing through him like the roaring waves of the ocean or a flame burning bright within.

Yes… This was home.

And he’d do anything to protect it.

Alright that’s enough writing okay byyyyeeeeee I’m gonna go to sleep nowwwww Good niigghgttttttt

It’s like 2:30 am rn LMAOOOOOOO

I’m delirious :3

#kny #kny x reader #tanjiro kamado #nezuko kamado #x reader #x gn reader #x gn y/n #gn reader #demon reader #Ik I said it’s like 1-2:30 an rn but I just ate like five chocolates #I’m ruining my body but it’s kinda fun/funny so im alright wit it #hehe

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the-avengers-ate-my-tongue · 1 year

Text

Don't Blame Me (Smut)

Summary: if there's one thing that makes Hannibal Lecter lose control, is rudeness.

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x reader, past Alana Bloom x reader (mentioned)

Warnings: Smut!

English is not my first language, if you see any mistake, let me know! It came out a little different than the ask cause I just don't see Hannibal losing his shit like that hahahahah I hope you like it anyway, anon!

Word Count: 2277

It's common knowledge that one must never miss a Lecter soiree.

Always one of the most expected events of the year, I was lucky and even grateful to be invited. I've known Hannibal since the years on Hopkins, he'd always been Alana's interesting acquaintance, one I never thought I'd catch the attention of.

Turns out we have more interests in common than I originally thought. He's a skilled artist, so am I. We both enjoy opera, and love to play instruments, mine being mostly flute and oboe. I could still hear the angelic sound of the harpsichord being played half an hour earlier. Impressive how his fingers glided through the keys, how effortlessly he recorded complex tunes to entertain his guests.

"I missed the days that sparkle in your eyes were directed to me" Alana's jest ringed in my ears, making me jump a little. She chuckled. "Look at you all jumpy. Relax, Y/n. He didn't catch you staring."

"Shut up, Lana" I shoved her playfully, sipping the red wine. "Do not get me started on Will Graham and those puppy eyes. He's staring right now, you know. You should give the poor man a chance."

"Okay, I got it. I won't meddle in your affairs anymore."

"There is no affair." I wish there was, I thought to myself, taking another sip of the wine while I eyed Hannibal from afar, talking to an older woman dressed like a peacock. "I…"

"I noticed your glass is nearly empty, so I fetched you another one" a familiar voice came from behind me, and the glass was abruptly removed from my hand and replaced with a fuller one. I contained my desire to roll my eyes once I saw who the intruder was.

"Frederick. Were you also invited or just crashed the party to feast on good things for once?" I teased, narrowing my eyes while looking at the director of the general administrator for Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

"My dear Y/n, I wouldn't dream of it. Of course I was invited. Moreover, I would avoid all this meat if I were you. You never know the provenance, if you know what I mean." He lowered his voice, coming closer and almost whispering in my ear. I could not help to actually roll my eyes this time, turning to face him. "I am, after all, restrained to low protein meat, that is."

"You still believe that silly theory that Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper? Please, Chilton. I never deemed you to be clever, but this is plain stupidity." I allowed the alcohol to make me more straightforward, chuckling on my words.

"Sticks and stones, little Y/n. Sticks and stones." Chilton teased, stepping away and going to bother someone else with his presence.

"For god's sake, the man is a burden" I whispered to Alana, who cracked at the comment.

"He has always been like this, you know that. I don't fathom why you always allow him to get under your skin."

"I've known Frederick for longer than you, Lana. Believe me, if you give that man a hand, he will most certainly grab your arm, shoulder and everything else you have to offer. Now, if you excuse me, I shall mingle a little bit more before the dinner actually begins. His interaction gave me a sour taste on my tongue."

I clicked my glass to Alana's, walking around the room and chatting to some people. Uninteresting conversations filled my ears and fake smiles made my lips start to tire out, but as soon as Hannibal's chocolate eyes were on me, I felt my entire demeanour change.

An idea occurred to me as I walked straight to the balcony, hoping he would join me. The night breeze engulfed me and I realized how trapped I was feeling inside that house, with those judgy stares and meaningless conversations. My wine glass remained untouched as I placed it on the strong wood porch, contemplating the cloudless sky.

"Tired of the good old socialization already?" I grunted when I realized that was not the voice I longed to hear, turning back to face Frederick.

"Careful, Chilton. One might say you are stalking me. As far as I remember, that's still a crime." I crossed my arms to show how much I unappreciated his presence, stepping away until my back was against the balcony.

"Come now, what have I done to deserve so much animosity? We used to be colleagues, friends if I dare to be so bold."

"An old dog with difficulty dropping the dry bone he was once given. Are you really that starved, Frederick? That's pitiful." I was aware of how indelicate I was getting, but he was starting to bother me immensely. "If there's one thing you are not, it's bold. Arrogant and extremely annoying, yes. Can't stand to hear a loud no? That checks, too. One must always let go of the past if we wish to evolve. God knows I have."

He dismissed everything I said with a slight wave of his hand, getting closer. I could smell the faint scent of whiskey, imagining that, after the loss of some of his organs, he probably would get drunk much easier. He tried to reach me with his free hand, but awkwardly dropped my glass, causing it to crash a few meters down.

We were alone and a little far from the other guests. The balcony's door was closed shut. I felt my hands start to tremble a bit, and realized I had to get out of there before things could get out of hand.

"Seriously, Frederick?" I snarled, rolling my eyes. "Playtime is over. Let me through, I'm getting out of here."

"Y/n, I…" he held my wrist with considerable strength, making me gasp. I tried to pull away but he was strong, and before I could snap and finally throw the punch he deserved, a low, deep voice echoed.

"I believe you heard the lady clearly, Dr. Chilton." There was a different gleam in Hannibal's eyes, and I wasn't the only one to notice. Frederick turned paler, letting go of my wrist with haste. "I think you should go. You've had too much wine, I see."

He hesitated, but agreed with a nod, leaving the balcony without looking back. Hannibal stared at him through his shoulder darkly and I released the breath I was holding, my knees would have given out if Hannibal had not held me discreetly, supporting my weight with an arm around my waist.

"Are you okay, Y/n?" He inquired, one hand lifting my face so I could look at him. I was so embarrassed. "Do you need a place to rest?"

"Not at all, Hannibal. Do not worry about me, it was just a fright and the wine. I cannot steal the host of his guests."

"Nonsense. Come, I will take you to the guest bedroom. We can enter through the kitchen, so no one will see your state. Please" he pointed to the other door, showing that there was no space to argue, and I just surrendered, allowing him to guide me through the vast kitchen filled with employees working to the elegant guest bedroom, shutting the door behind us.

I sat on the comfortable mattress, appreciating the shades of cream and white, and the beautiful vintage-like furniture that seemed to complement the place perfectly. I realized then that Hannibal had fallen silent, and I stared at him with worry. He had turned his back to me, leaning on the dresser, breathing a little heavier.

"Hannibal?" I called, getting up and walking towards him, reaching out with my hand on his shoulder. His face was impassive, but he had that same look in his eyes again, something ancient and darker that wides his pupils and pierces his lips tightly. I allow myself to reach deeper, caressing his strong arm and feeling the muscles tense under his suit. "What is it?"

"He dared to touch you like that" he pointed in a cold tone. "Like you are someone else's property."

My eyes softened as I felt some butterflies in my stomach, and I took the liberty to grab his chin, kissing his cheek tenderly in appreciation.

"Forget about Frederick, he is immature and arrogant. I will call him tomorrow to address this matter."

He still had that predatorial look in his eyes that gave me shivers, though not the way it should. Something in being that much protected by him made me feel dear and precious like an exotic pearl.

He would not give in, and I felt bold enough to once more kiss his handsome face, this time on his jawline, near his left ear. That caught his attention, and he towered over me, cradling my face with his enormous hands, making my eyes tremble with the feeling of electricity that flowed through my veins. With no hesitation, his lips crashed against mine, and I moaned into his mouth, the hunger for him making my loins combust.

"I have wanted this for so long…" I murmured against his neck, his fancy perfume invading my nostrils. He smelled so good.

"As did I, Y/n. You have been in my thoughts a great deal lately" he confessed, making me blush. Impostor syndrome trying to kick in, I avoid the self-degrading thoughts as I delight in his open mouthed kisses in my skin, gasping in pleasure when he lightly bites my shoulder, enjoying it more than I ever thought I would.

"Your guests…" I tried to be reasonable, a dirty smile playing on my lips.

"The dinner will take a little while longer, I'm afraid" he whispered in my ear, nibbling on the lobe with a mischievous deep chuckle. He lifted my dress to my waist, since we didn't really have that much time to spare, and I got rid of my panties, almost tripping on them with my heels and the rush.

His hand went to my core, testing how wet I was, and he smiled with how soaked I felt. A loud moan echoed through the room and he removed his hand at once, lifting one finger at me as he would chastise a child. I frowned with frustration, lifting my chin to face him.

"We are not supposed to be too loud, Y/n. You do not want the guests to hear us, do you? Imagine the scandal" that made me laugh with pure bliss, nodding in agreement. "Are you going to be a good girl?"

Oh, fuck. Is this really happening?

"Yes. Yes, I will" I agreed in haste, and he effortlessly lifted me up, sitting me on the dresser and starting to unzip his pants. I tried to control my breathing and anticipation, pleasuring myself with the vision of his hard cock, precum glistening at the tip. He massaged it with his hand for a few seconds before he towered over me, holding my hips in place while he entered me so painfully slowly I nearly sobbed.

To avoid the loud moans, I bit my left fist, suppressing the sounds as my insides clenched to accommodate him. A joyful smile illustrated his lips, his hair falling over his eyes due to the sweat, and he looked like a Greek statue. I could not avoid the mesmerized stare, melting in admiration, as he leaned to cover my lips with his own one more time, his tongue exploring my mouth like he was famished. Still slowly, he started to move his hips, almost both torturing and indulging me at the same time. I entangled my legs around him, pulling him closer to the point one could swear we were one. He moaned my name, followed by an almost savage growl that sent vibrations through my entire body and, for a while, I regretted how little time we had. He seemed to sense that, rushing his movements until the dresser started to hit the wall and, for a moment, I was certain everyone outside could hear us.

So much for discretion, I thought, grabbing his broad shoulders while he inserted himself deeper and deeper inside of me. His thumb began to stimulate my clit and, sensing I would begin to cry out at any moment, Hannibal silenced me with his lips, allowing me to moan against his mouth as I felt the tension start to build up in my lower abdomen.

I felt him pull out his cock, replacing it with his skilled fingers, finishing on my thighs. I followed him right after, covering my mouth until my moans were unsteady breaths.

I hadn't even realized Hannibal had left until he came back from the suite with a hot towel, starting to clean me up. I thanked him with a sweet kiss, doing my best to fix his clothes and hair. We both knew it wouldn't do any good, but he enjoyed my caresses and how I took care of him as well. He took one of my hands — the one Chilton grabbed like a brute earlier — and kissed my wrist, right where small purple bruises began to form.

"We should go back. Who is going to serve dinner? We're being unforgivably selfish" I taunted, chuckling lightly.

"Perhaps you should be my dinner, then" he jested, and I openly laughed, shoving him playfully.

"Later. If you'll have me, that is." I lifted my eyebrows with expectation, staring at his brown irises.

"It would be my pleasure, Y/n" with a last kiss, he went to the bathroom suite to fix his appearance, leaving me with a silly smile and a warm feeling in my chest.

#hannibal x reader #hannibal #hannibal x you #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter x you #nbc hannibal #hannibal imagine #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter fanfiction #will graham #mads mikkelsen #hannibal headcanon #hannibal fanfic #hannibal lecter headcanon #Alana Bloom #Frederick Chilton

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quibbler-quirks · 1 year

Text

Perfect Imperfections - Ominis x fem!Reader

Summary: Ominis asks MC to the Yule Ball. Or at least that was his plan.

Word count: 1.5k

Tags/warnings: she/her pronouns, a little bit of angst, assumed Triwizard Champion MC

A/N: Thank you for all of the love for my first post! I am truly not a writer, but Ominis has been bringing me lots of comfort. Just a little scenario I thought of~ I hope you enjoy!

-------

It was a terrible misunderstanding really.

Upon the end of her fifth year, MC had thought she had seen all the wizarding world had to offer. Magical prowess beyond her wildest dreams, a goblet of flames spitting out perfectly unburnt paper, and friends that seemed to transcend consequence. That is why strolling into the Transfiguration Courtyard as silent snowflakes fell from the sky, she could not understand why the pale hands of a certain Ominis Gaunt were in the hands of a particularly bubbly Anne Sallow.

It was not as if Ominis and MC were officially courting, but MC had thought after what had happened in their fifth year, they truly had a chance to become friends in their sixth and seemingly more in their seventh.

In her unoccupied hand, Anne held a beautiful bouquet of white roses and snowdrops, sprinkled with opulent green ferns and frosted holly berries. The perfect bouquet to ask someone to the Yule Ball with and with sudden clarity, it all made sense. Ominis had invited Anne to the Ball and not herself. Of course, nothing could triumph a childhood love, especially not after going through extreme measures to find a cure for Anne. MC knew Ominis had cared deeply for Anne throughout their search, but she felt embarrassed by her own ignorance realizing his care was out of love for the Sallow twin.

With the sight of the bouquet blurring, MC continued hastily through the courtyard into the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower, hoping no one could see the tears that welled in her eyes.

-------

“Bombarda!” a barrel explodes into splinters.

“Confringo!” a suit of armour topples to the ground.

How could she have been so blind? So selfish? While her feelings for the Gaunt boy had blossomed, it did not mean his feelings had done the same. Frustrated between being happy for her friends and heartbroken, MC lashed out spell after spell, aiming at particularly nowhere. The Undercroft was alight with flashes of colours as if someone had set off fireworks. She should be happy for them. Both were such kind souls and had helped each other through thick and thin, but thoughts of how well they matched did not comfort her. Besides, she had bigger things to worry about.

Continuing to bellow out spells, MC did not notice Sebastian had been watching her for some time, unsure of how to stop her.

Suddenly, the gates of the Undercroft were once again creaking open, but MC’s shouts deafened her senses.

“MC?” called out Ominis.

“She’s been at it for centuries,” Sebastian remarks. “I can’t seem to get her to calm down.”

“What did you do?”

“Why do you always assume it was me?”

“Because it is always you, Sebastian,” Ominis grunts, “if it was not you, then what happened?”

“That… is a fair point,” Sebastian admits in defeat. “I’m not sure, I just know she has been like this since I got here. Practicing for the next challenge maybe? You can give it a go, but I’m going to find somewhere else to read. Good luck.”

The room felt a lot emptier since Ominis had last been there. Hearing Sebastian’s footsteps fade up the stairs, Ominis could also hear just how sharply the spells echoed off of the Undercroft’s stone walls. As if none of the crates and barrels he knew to be placed there existed at all.

“I’m sorry love,” he whispers, directing his wand to the voice of MC. “Arresto momentum.”

Time suddenly stops for MC and her mouth fails to produce another coherent word.

“Reparo!”

The shattered state of the Undercroft begins to repair itself as Ominis carefully strolls over to MC, bringing down her arms and tucking her body into his chest. He could feel her wet tears seep through his wool jumper. Just how much had she been crying?

“What did you do?” the voice of Anne Sallow shrieks.

“Again, why does everyone always assume it was me!” Sebastian retaliates as the twins reappear at the base of the Undercroft.

Slightly embarrassed his childhood friends might have seen him holding their mutual friend quite intimately, Ominis jumps away, a blush rising to his ears.

Seeing the tears falling down her best friend’s face, Anne rushes over to MC, bouquet forgotten on the floor, ready to embrace her. “What did my oaf of a brother do this time?”

Suddenly processing the other people present in the Undercroft, MC wipes her tears and tries to compose herself. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you come in! Don’t worry, Sebastian didn’t do anything… this time… that I know of...”

“Hey-” Sebastian starts.

“Never mind him then. My brother said you were crying as he was coming out of the Undercroft. Is everything okay, MC?”

“Yes, no worries! I’m sorry for worrying you! I was just, erm, worried about the upcoming challenge? Lots to practice I’m afraid”

“That’s bullocks,” Sebastian scoffs, “the Second Task isn’t for another two months! You’ll be fine.”

“Well, something must be on your mind,” Anne says, voice laced with concern.

“Maybe it’s just the Triwizard Tournament in general! There’s so much going on! Seriously, Anne, I’m fitter than a Fwooper! I just came from Professor Weasley’s office and I suppose the pressure really got to me,” MC forces a smile, eyes dropping to the fallen bouquet that lay near Ominis’ feet. “Besides, we have the holidays and the Ball to look forward to! We still have to go shopping for your dress, Anne! Even if our dear friend can’t see how stunning you will look, I think it will still be nice to dress up,” she continues to ramble on, gaze unmoving from the bouquet.

Slowly putting together the puzzle pieces, Anne gasps and steps back from MC in shock. Looking at the fallen bouquet, the Gaunt boy’s red ears, then her friend’s tear-stained face, she realizes MC must have seen her and Ominis in the courtyard on her way to the Undercroft. It really was a terrible misunderstanding.

“You, Gaunt, have some fixing to do,” pointing at the poor boy despite his lack of sight. She huffs over, picking up and shoving the bouquet into his arms.

“What did I do?” he pleads, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah! Why do you always assume it’s us?” Sebastian cries out again.

“Boys…” Anne mutters, dragging her brother back up the stairs past the gate. “I think you have something important to address.”

And with a final grit of her teeth, the Sallow twins disappear back into the tower, leaving a baffled MC and an even more confused Ominis.

Feeling the leaves of the once pristine bouquet tickle his chin, Ominis searches his mind for any reason Anne would ruin the surprise he had prepared.

“That really is a lovely bouquet. Anne is very lucky,” MC breaks the silence.

Oh… Oh! Cursing under his breath, Ominis finally understands what Anne had meant. Oh, this was not going according to plan at all.

Eyes opened wide and stammering over his words, Ominis speaks, “No! No, you are mistaken! These aren’t for Anne! Why would I give such a thing to Anne? A bouquet? That’s ridiculous. Not that bouquets are ridiculous or that I wouldn’t give anything to Anne..” Taking a deep breath, he finishes, “This was meant for you.”

Slightly shocked, MC starts, “But I saw you and Anne in the courtyard and I thought–”

“These were meant for you! I mean, these are for you, love.”

“I don’t think I’m quite following.”

Ominis approaches her carefully, reaching out for her hands and gently placing the bouquet in them. “I am asking you if I could have the honour of accompanying you to the Yule Ball.”

MC’s jaw drops in shock. Too stunned to say anything.

“That is if you are not already going with someone. I know it is rather late of me to ask, but I had this whole thing planned where I was going to–”

Then suddenly his words are cut off by the feeling of lips pressed against his. It is short and it is sweet. It is clumsy but evidently full of love. Everything a first kiss could ever be.

Breaking the contact, MC steps back, clutching the bouquet in her arms. “Wow, what a mess and a fool I am… I didn’t think you were going to ask. I would love that very much, Ominis.”

Smiling and reaching out to place his hands on top of MC’s, Ominis chuckles, “What a mess indeed. I apologize for all of the trouble I have caused. Anne actually was the one helping me pick out the flowers for you. I wanted them to be even a fraction as beautiful as you are, little dove.”

“They are perfect.”

“Not as perfect as you.”

-------

Bonus:

“OH! I UNDERSTAND NOW!” Sebastian shouts. “That sly dog! Took him long enough.”

“Boys…” Anne grumbles again, but holds back a smile as she watches Ominis and MC hand in hand walking across the courtyard where just moments before everything went astray.

#ominis x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis imagine #hogwarts legacy #ominis x you #hogwarts legacy ominis

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sublimecatgalaxy · 1 year

Text

Him and I

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Wife!Reader

Summary: Daryl and his wife get separated at the fall of the prison but both manage to escape with another member of their crowd. After the reader and Glenn find Abraham and their group, almost after accepting they'll never find the rest of their families, they stumble in to Terminus. Will they be reunited or will the current state of the world impede them once more?

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drugs, violence, swearing, mentions of loss, feeling of anxiety/dread.

A/n: This fic is directly based on a request (that tumblr ate) by @bringinsexybackk69! I'm so sorry it took so long for me to get back to this, it's honestly just been so hard for me to write things that aren't blurbs and with the lack of TWD content, it's been dry over here. Thank you for your patience, I adore you! This is not entirely canon since my memory is faulty and I can't currently watch TWD so I'm going off of vibes and vague memory.

When we got to the prison, we thought it was going to be the end all, the place we could stay for as long as we chose to live, where we would raise children, form new bonds and relationships, just overall be safe and enjoy life.

But we thought the same thing about the farm and we all know what happened to that dream.

When the prison fell, I assumed that I would never see any of my family again, my closest friends, my husband. I woke up, alone, on the floor of the prison after Daryl shoved me in a cell and told me to stay put. It took nearly an hour for me to fight my way through walkers to get out into the air and that's when I saw the tanks and Hershel.

My heart broke.

When I found Glenn, I had a little bit of hope that we'd find people the longer we looked around the prison but the longer we looked, the less we found and the more dangerous it got. We were trapped and we couldn't wait around for people to show up. So we left.

"Glenn, where would Maggie go? If something happened, where would she go?" I ask Glenn frantically as we walk side by side, gun by gun, down the rural gravel path, my feet kicking frustratedly at stones with every step we take.

"I don't know, Y/n. We never thought we'd ever be away from each other ever again." Glenn is more frustrated than I am, jaw tense and fists clenched at his side. Without us, I'm convinced he wouldn't last, he's so emotional and gets so easily frustrated whereas I am the opposite.

Cool as a cucumber.

Just like Daryl taught me.

Daryl and I met at the farm.

I stumbled, quite literally, upon them with my arm bit and my whole body sore from carrying my own weight at least a mile or two. I'd say that our first impressions were kind and that we fell in love at first sight but it wasn't and we didn't. He, with the assistance of Hershel, chopped my arm off to prevent the infection from spreading and inevitably saved my life.

We were all shocked to see that it worked.

Daryl would take care of me, bring me things from the forest like little flowers that he claimed to remind him so much of me even though he'd joke that I'm nothing like a flower. He'd bring me food while I was resting in bed, he'd offer to take me on walks- overall, he was an angel and it was hard not to fall in love with him.

He'd tell you that he fell in love with me when I nearly fell in the well three weeks after my amputation.

Don't ask.

We were inseparable from then on in. He was my right hand man (pun so much intended) and he taught me everything I needed to know. I learned how to hunt with one hand, cook, skin animals, fend for myself because he always wanted me to feel and be capable if anything were to ever happen to him.

He's the most selfless, kind hearted, protective man I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.

When the farm was overtaken by walkers and we had to run, it was the first thing to really test mine and Daryl's relationship but also to test my lack of two arms. It was difficult for me to keep up and it was even more frustrating for Daryl to take care of me while saving the asses of everyone else.

"Are you good?" Daryl asks me, spinning around on his bike to look back at me with a worried expression, brows tugged firmly together in fear. He checks me out once, doing a once over to make sure I'm a-okay and when I nod, he loosens up a bit.

"I'm okay. Just a little spooked." I'm trembling like a leaf against him and he finally steps off his bike and moves to wrap his arms around me without another word.

He holds me tightly to his chest, cradling my head as softly as he can as tears flow freely from my eyes, my arm aching in a phantom pain from all the stress of wishing I was more capable, wishing Daryl didn't need to take care of and comfort me all the time.

"I got you, okay? I'm here."

When we found the rest of the group and found the prison, it was like we were drawn to it. We had to clear it out, we had to make it our own, make it safe. We had a baby on the way, Lori was nearly due and with the loss of a few of our people, we needed to regroup and have a place where we could just be.

But it fell, it went to hell, like everywhere else had since the world fell.

When we Glenn and I escaped, it wasn't exactly a match made in Heaven. We weren't the most compatible to work together, always bickering and fighting over the stupidest shit and ruining plans, just like siblings.

But after days and days of walking and arguing, we found Abraham and it was as if everything just got better. It was no longer the two of us and, after all those years of not seeing him, it was strangely nice to be reunited with him on the road.

"Abe?" The ginger's head snaps around at my voice, turning away from his two friends with wide eyes, gaze locking on mine as I grin ridiculously, my feet carrying me towards him without another word.

"Well holy shit, where did you come from?" He chuckles heartily and I feel tears springing behind the lids of my eyes. "I missed you, kid."

Abraham and I were stationed together in the Middle East for too long, learning the ins and outs of each other and becoming true best friends. When we went home, we kept in touch but when the world fell, we became a background thought in each other's minds.

So the fact that we found each other, a state away from where we grew up, it's still remarkable to this day.

Glenn and I felt better once we were with a group of people, especially since we were genuinely going to kill each other had we been stuck, just the two of us, for any longer. It was nice to meet Rosita and get to know her interesting relationship with my old friend, their oddly sexual relationship keeping the rest of us up in the middle of the night.

It made me miss Daryl, meeting all these new people- I had no one to judge people with. Glenn was no fun and always played devil's advocate and Abraham was who I wanted to judge. Daryl would've gladly sat with me and made me laugh while pointing out Rosita and Abraham's obnoxious issues with PDA or making fun of Eugene's mannerisms and nerves around Rosita.

It was alienating, how much I missed him.

My other half.

"Glenn, I don't know why you think Maggie would go to some random, probably overran 'survivalist' camp. But I think we have a better bet just wandering around looking for them." Abraham looks at me with a funny look, reaching out to shove at my shoulder as an attempt to get me to lay off Glenn but I just shake my head. I lean over Glenn's shoulder, looking at the ominous note that 'Maggie' left him and I can see the hope written on Glenn's face.

"I just have a feeling, you have to go with me on this." Glenn spins around on his heels, holding the note up in his hands with a stern, hopeful smile. "She left me a damn note, Y/n." I look back at Abraham, Rosita and Eugene and they all give me a simple shrug which forces a complaint sigh out of me.

"What you say goes."

Terminus obviously was not what we thought it was, tossed into train cars like animals and expected to turn over our weapons. Abraham called bullshit first, not daring to turn in his weapon before asking a few more questions but it was those few more questions that got us thrown into our makeshift jail in the first place.

I had accepted at that point that I would never see him ever again, that Daryl and I would never be reunited and never spend the rest of our lives together like we so desperately wanted to.

But when he stumbled into the train car two days later to my surprise, eyes falling on me and arms immediately tossing around me, it was shocking. I didn’t even think that he was real, the way his arms felt around me, after days of not having him near me- it was an out of body experience.

“Are you really here?” I ask, tucking my face in the crook of his neck, gripping onto the back of his shirt as if he’ll vanish from my grasp if I let him go even the slightest bit. He clings to me the same, hoisting me up into the air as I spot Abraham watching us with a proud smile on his lips that makes my stomach flutter with happy butterflies.

“I’m really here.” He whispers, rubbing my back soothingly as he sets me back down onto the floor, looking down at me with kind, protective eyes. “Fuck, I missed you.” His hands reach up, cupping my cheeks in his hands, ignoring the looks that everyone else in the car is giving us. “Where have you been?” He asks, finally taking a look around at the people around us with a relieved breath.

“With Glenn.” I huff, seeing Glenn, who has his arm around a relieved Maggie, sends me the finger from across the trai car.

“I’m so sorry.” Daryl mutters with a laugh, wrapping his arms around me again, tugging me to his chest with the plan of never letting me go.

“Never leave me alone again.”

"What're you thinkin' about?" Daryl’s voice snaps me out of my memories, my head turning to look at him as he sets a hand on my shoulder, a soft smile on his lips. "I can see the smoke comin' out of your ears." He teases with a wink, sitting down beside me on the log that I’ve plopped on and I lean into him, letting him wrap an arm around my shoulders.

"Thinking about when the prison fell. When we were apart."

"Why the hell're you thinking about that?" He asks, brows furrowing and a look of worry passes across his expression as he tugs me back into him, clinging to me once more just like the day that he found me. "Worst days of my life."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

@officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @witxhy-lexx @minjix @luvroseee @tee-swizzle @savageneversaw @admiringlove @hysteriahall @piceous21 @starlightandfairies @igotmajordaddyissues @drewstarkey-wife1 @manyfandomsfanvergent @revesephemeres

#daryl x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead fic

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dailyadventureprompts · 1 year

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I was wondering if you could do something of a Monsters Reimagined for Luthic. It always struck me as odd that even though she is a deity of childbirth and fertility and motherhood she is evil simply because she is an ORC deity.

Monsters Reimagined: Luthic, Cavemother

There are no easy births: it always a matter of blood and broken bones and shit and curses and pain in the desperate hope of getting through it alive and maybe bringing something good into the world in the process. It would stand to reason then that the god who claimed birth as her domain would have to be strong, hopeful yes, but tough as old boot lather and not afraid to get her hands dirty.

Luthic is that god, who lends her strength to those who bear life as the process threatens to rip them apart, who councils with midwives, grannies, bonesetters, and village witches who keep the hardwon knowledge of the fever-herb and staunching poultice.

It is said that before she took her current form Luthic was a god of the dark and secret places of the earth, who first encountered mortals when they sheltered in her caves from the bickering of other gods and their aims during the primordial dawn age. The mortals were new, not yet knowing the design of thier own bodies, and when it came time for the first generation to give birth to the second, someone had to step up and help them through it. Like any mother Luthic encouraged them through their explorations, as playing with sticks led to spears and tools, and painting on stone walls led to art and language. When they were ready, she brought them blinking into the light, and then retired to a well deserved state of distant reverance as her adopted children took their place in the world above.

Adventure Hooks:

Like the great bear that is her crest, the cavemother likes to keep to herself much of the time, unless some idiot stirs up enough of a ruckous to wake her from her hibernation. This time it's some upjumped priest king that's convinced that if he can just impregnate the right woman he can sire a word redeaming chosen one. The only problem is that he's not giving the "right woman" much of a choice in the matter, and has decided to invade the party's homeland to search for and capture her. Luthic isn't going to stand for it, and appears to the party in the form of a local medicine woman to set them on the right path and patch their wounds along the way. Once they've earned her trust, she'll put an ancient bone knife in their hands sharp enough to cut through an army of zealots and imply that they should use it to feed the priest king his own cock. Something about a lession in not sticking it in where it's not welcome.

The caves marked off as sacred to Luthic are wellsprings of primordial power, resounding not only with the wisdom of previous generations but the energy of creation itself. Its said that if you pilgramage into their dark depths one might emerge remade, free of illness or debilitation, or reborn into a body more fitting of who they truely are.

Seeking the holiest of holy places to consummate his marriage to his longtime rival and off again on-again flame, an orcish champion has sought out a long-abandoned mountain temple dedicated to the Cavemother. His dreams of altartop honeymooning has been shattered however as he's discovered that the temple and surrounding highlands are overrun by the brood of Shub-Nuggrath and her cultists. Having perhaps bitten off more than he can chew, he requests the party's aid in ousting the "goatfuckers" from the region.

Titles: Cavemother, She of the Bitter Roots, Bellycarver,

Signs: Unnatural darkness, Rumbling in the mouths of caves, clawmarks in stone, particularly angry bears.

Symbols: The Orcish rune for cave entrance, The Cavebear, or the Jawbone of one.

Despite not being one of the more widely published deities Luthic has been one of my most requested gods to rework, and after I published my take on Gruumsh my inbox I got even more. Normally I won't go into the racial sub-pantheons more often than not because of how conceptually thin most of the entries are, but the asker (and a few others) rightfully noticed the oddness of having Luthic be marked out as an evil goddess despite her domains being centered around fertility, birth, healing, and the earth... all classic mother goddess stuff we could imagine any good aligned druid talking about.

It took me a little while to understand that Luthic's evil was strictly rooted in the idea that she was helping more orcs be born, orcs being a primary enemy of all good people and thus contextualizing a wholly unselfish and natural action as something counter to the forces of good. Remember kids, dig too deep into d&d and you WILL find genocide apologia waiting somewhere under the surface. The same goes for her healing aspect, which is repeatedly brought up as being crude and inferior to the medicine of other races (Her priestesses carry dirt to rub into the wounds of those they care for, because even though it's healing it needs to be gross and inferior because they're orcs and orcs are a standin for anyone the writers subconsciously think are gross and inferior).

That said, removing the one conceit that Luthic is evil ( and all the misogyny baked into her original writeups) we're actually left with a very interesting addition to our pantheon: A goddess who presides over the unpleasant and frequently gruesome process of pregnancy and birth, a fact of life for the historical-ish settings that most d&d campaigns but one that is seldom touched upon. I can easily imagine Luthic's acolytes being the ones to hand out herbs that deal with unwanted pregnancy or to be called for in the difficult case of a breach birth. Luthic likewise being the god who presides over caves because most of the more well-known deities that deal with the underground are specifically mining related, and there's a delicious tension there between between places below the earth that exist to be exploited, and others that exist as sacred, liminal spaces that we merely visit.

Art

#deity #orc #divinity: fertility #divinity: earth #divinity: healing #witch #cave #cultists #warfare #seeking healing #temple

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josephquinnswhore · 1 year

Text

At Her Mercy

Pairing: Simon “ghost” Riley x Fem! Reader

Summary: you’re needed to help guide the task force 141 group, when you meet ghost, it would tear open your wounds.

Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warning: mentions of murder, childhood abuse, physical violence, ghosting, heartless reader, typical cod violence, child death, bit of physicality between ghost and reader. Ptsd. No happy ending.

Note: I have a lot of requests and I’m sorry I just have so much Simon brain rot I need to get this out of my system. Sorry this is angsty. May be open for p2 idk lol.

You try not to linger around the grave too long after having sat here for 23 minutes, the longer you sat the longer it usually was harder for you to walk away. You couldn’t afford that attachment today; you had a plane to catch. Time didn’t stop for you, the world didn’t stop spinning and you knew you’d have to trudge through the metaphorical mud you often got stuck in again once you’d left; leaving was always the hardest part.

The clock on your wrist didn’t slow for you, the hands tick with each passing second you spent knelt into the unkempt overgrown grass at the cemetery. The headstone was old, in desperate need of a pressure wash to restore it’s original state. The arch shaped stone seemed to stand strong in the structure itself, your fingers had swiped the cobwebs off the top and base of the stone, clearing any critters that tried to make this memorial their home.

You knew you shouldn’t have purchased a whole bouquet of flowers, the bunch of red and orange flowers sat at the base where you’d carefully placed them upon your arrival, a mix of his favourite colours. You’d even purchased him a small gift, a hot wheels car, a red mustang with white stripes across the bonnet. He had always loved cars, playing with them and working on them; he mentioned a dozen times he’d wanted to be a mechanic, now along side him in his coffin; lie his dreams. A life unfulfilled and cut short at no fault of his own. It had been 10 years and 7 days; December 18th was the day your semi-normal but functioning life was stripped away; the day he was taken from you.

“Sorry I couldn’t come see you last week kid, I know I always make sure but things got-complicated. Hope you’ll forgive me.”

Things were definitely complicated. You were contacted by General Shepherd, you knew of him; being he was in charge of several units across the United States Military, including your section. He had a lot of contacts and if you worked for him; there was nothing about you he didn’t know. He directly had asked you to come and command the task force 141 team, alongside a man named Captain John Price.

“John Price is a good man and a damn good Captain.” Shephard stated, hanging off his last word on the laptop he’d called you on, his face could barely look at the camera.

“But?” You question impatiently.

“We fear he may’ve gone soft on the men here. We could use your..” he trails off, looking for the right word to use. “Resourcefulness and ruthlessness.”

“Do you think I’m ruthless, General?” You deadpan. His face pixilated as the wifi on your end fails to keep up.

“I’ve heard many a stories about you, Captain. Plane leaves in two days. John Price will meet you upon your arrival.”

“Copy that. I’ll be in touch General.” You shut your laptop screen, the call automatically ending as it meets the keypad.

You check your watch once more, the action becoming more frequent as the minutes passed, knowing you were cutting it close to missing the plan which left in half an hour to your new workplace.

“Sorry kid I better get going. I miss you everyday, still keep you near to my heart.” Your fingers trace the small ‘m’ letter necklace, the simple silver letter was attached to a small-link chain. Something that spent more time by your bedside table than around your neck these days-something you were ashamed to admit. The small trinket was one of the few items you owned of his, you tried to keep his memory alive as your brain often forgot what he looked like, the sound of his voice and laugh. The day you received this gift was one you’d remember until you died. You pull your mask up to cover the bottom half of your face, reaching underneath your eyes, closing yourself off and your vulnerability.

Christmas Day was always hectic in the household; spending time with your husbands family, his brother and wife, your nephew who was practically your own son.

“Hey, hey! I give up, put me down!” The boy giggled through his fit of laughter, short brown hair brushing the floor as you held him upside down.

“Gotta say the word otherwise you don’t tap out!” You manage through your own burst of laughter, his parents watching on with their own smiles, your husband watches you with a fondness and hope for your own children someday.

“Mercy! Mercy!” The boy squeals, finally. You set him down on the carpet gently, once he stands his cheeks are red and freckles are visible now more than normal.

He walks to the heavily decorated Christmas tree, bends down and precisely plucks a small, messily wrapped gift and hands it to you with a shy smile. The yellow Christmas lights shine in his blue eyes as he watches you expectantly, waiting for you to accept the gift. The first thing you notice is the outrageous amount of tape that secured the wrapping paper, the second was his messy hand writing that had scribbled your name, with a love heart next to his, you tear off the note and secure it in your pant pocket, too valuable not to keep.

“Do you think you can help me open it? I might need your big muscles to help unravel all this tape. Whaddya say?” He grins, nodding, helping you claw at the tape he had fervently taped last night after his parents had finally lent him some money he’d been begging for weeks.

Once the paper is gone, it’s exposed. The small white cardboard top that covered a black velvet box; the brand of a well known jeweller splayed in a cursive font on the box in silver. “This is so sweet!” You hum, completely delighted before you get the chance to even open the gift.

“Just wait till you open it! I think it’s neat.” He boasts proudly. You open the box, a small silver letter ‘m’ shines back at you, casting your reflection in the cursive letter. Before you can question him, he’s already starting to explain.

“It’s for Mercy, it’s something that reminds me of you when you’re not here. We always have so much fun playing together and I hope you like it.”

The tears in your eyes are fluent, your mouth is wet as you fill to the metaphorical brim of the cup with emotion, about to overflow. “Like it? Are you kidding, I love it. I promise we’ll come see you more often okay?”

“Yeah, that would be so neat!”

The memory replays as you’re sitting in the taxi to the Military airport, a junction that’s privately owned and used by few occupants that require urgent travel. The plane is being boarded with flight crew when you arrive; the army plane was one of many you’ve seen before; the dark grey would be a blip in the perfectly blue sky, like the little boy on your mind; his absence was your loss; your dark grey blip.

“Captain, please, let us take care of your luggage. Board the plane swiftly as we are on time and due to depart in 10 minutes.” You offload your giant luggage bag to a low ranking worker, his uniform clear indication he was what the higher ups call a shitkicker, or rookie. They were generally to stupid-or immature to be anything more than a servant, someone to fetch and do basic physical training until they were filtered out; booted or into the military as a low ranking soldier.

“Thanks kid.” You offer the younger man, kindness wouldn’t hurt with the rookies, you’ve been there and were there for two years-they were a necessity in the industry, without them there would be no new soldiers, no people to do the dirty work, like cleaning the toilets and washing the bedsheets.

The inside of the plane was nothing fancy, while it’s seats were mildly stiff and there was a lingering smell of cigarette smoke you didn’t complain, it was better than being seated where the low ranking soldiers were strapped, in the back of the aircraft with the luggage and whatever cargo they were shipping to the next location.

“Anything to drink, madam?” You look up to meet the eyes of a tired stuartess.

“Got any whiskey?” She nods politely and you pull the plastic tray down that’s attached to the seat in front.

“How would you like that made madam?” She’s pouring from a glass bottle, by the look of the honey coloured liquid, it was expensive.

“On the rocks, prepare me a second. Better make it a double.” You grab the drink, throwing it back and swallowing it in one go, the bitterness burned going down your throat, followed by tones of malt and honey.

You hand the glass back to the middle aged woman, she prepares you a double as you ask and you set the cup in front of you.

“If you need our assistance please don’t hesitate to ask, enjoy your flight.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Your voice is rough, the whiskey was harsh on your throat, despite the sweet after taste, it was harsher than you were used to, the ice adding a coolness that made your teeth sensitive with every sip of the liquid.

You pull out a small baggie from your top right pocket of your dark uniform, two small white rounded pills sit at the bottom of the small ziplock plastic bag. You fish out the pills, your fingers a decent size too big for it to be an effortless task. Getting disgruntled and sick of waiting another minute, you tip the baggie upward and crane your neck back into the seat, the two pills falling from the bag onto your tongue. The powdery residue on your tongue is bitter and unpleasant, you don’t take another second to pick up your glass and swallow the pills.

After a few years of using the sleeping pills, you’ve gained a small tolerance, it takes close to 15 before your eyelids start fluttering, the loudness of the aircraft starts to drown out, all the emotion from the gravesite seems to fade away as you fall out of consciousness, you would enjoy the peace as it came; no nightmares, no pain, just blissful ignorance.

You wake just as the plane lands on the runway, the loud screeching of the rubber tyres hitting the tar at great speed. To speed up the process of waking up, you gulp down the last of your whiskey, the beverage barely relieving the dry mouth the pills had caused you on a daily basis. You clear your throat and lick your lips, looking around at the view outside of the moving scenery as the plane circles around to its final stop, where two military grade unimogs full of soldiers await your arrival.

You adjust your black mask, the material clings tight to your chin as it drapes down your neck. A man approaches you as you walk down the giant ramp of the aircraft, the noise ceasing as the engines come to a halt, the blades rotating slowly as they realise their journey has ended. The man stands a few inches taller than you, his brown mutton chops frame his face, blue eyes piercing you with a friendly look that makes you uneasy, the crows feet around his eyes are a knowing sign of his stress. You don’t even want to get started on that stupid hat.

“John Price, Captain John Price. Nice to finally meet your acquaintance.” You shake his extended hand firmly. Believing all you need to know in a person is all in the handshake; take Price for example, he’s firm, friendly, a business man, his hand doesn’t linger for longer than it needs to.

“You can call me Mercy. Glad to finally meet you Captain Price. Shepherd hasn’t informed me much of your men, I hope they’re up to standard.” You begin to walk to the truck, Price has his men load your luggage into the back.

“I firmly believe they are, Captain.” He holds the door open for you to sit in the backseat, an unusually kind gesture for someone you just met.

“Guess we’ll see about that.” You deadpan bluntly. You had seen your fair share of failures in your time, leaders who weren’t harsh enough on their men, who didn’t correct their mistakes or claimed to be a family unit. You hated that dynamic, you weren’t here to build a family or make friends. You were placed here to help the men of this task force with their dedicated mission and get the fuck back to your own unit, you had your own men that relied on you.

“Hope you don’t mind the introductions will be made off base this evening.” You raise an eyebrow, turning to the man beside you.

“Is that so? Where exactly will this off base location be? Is the area secure, will you have men patrolling the area?” These are all necessary questions and this man had looked at you as if you had two heads, which answered your questions for you.

“We can have it arranged Ma’am.” You hum in distaste.

“It would want to be arranged, I don’t leave base unless I know myself and my men are safe. I’m sure you understand Captain.” You already showed no fondness to the man who was supposed to be leading a task force, how incompetent were the men he were in charge of if the Captain himself didn’t pre-organise this off base meeting.

The base was small, a dozen buildings, one awfully large one in which you would assume was medical. One in which you would hope is medical. The trucks come to a stop, you’re grateful for your mask that filters the dust in which stops you from inhaling the swirling storm of dust as you open the door. Your boots leave an indented footprint on the beige dust, the grass growing in patches and the buildings invaded with overgrown weeds that haven’t been touched in what you’d assume were years.

“If you’ll follow me ma’am, I’ll show you around base.” You pull out the small notepad and pen, scribbling down how someone needs to hire a damn maintenance man to clean the weeds and mow the grass.

You come to the largest building which is attached to the other smaller ones in a large D shape. As you walk in, the room is outdated and the stench makes your nose scrunch in disgust under your mask.

“Captain what the fuck is that obnoxious smell?” Price turns to you, slowing his pace to match your own as you look into the windows of the old, outdated rooms, trying to figure out where the smell is coming from.

“This is the mess hall, we used to have people cook for us but they were all fired when the government stopped extra curricula funding.” You frown, speeding your pace through the dirty halls of the building.

“Why hasn’t it been cleaned, or demolished?” You finally exit that part of the building. Price doesn’t have an answer for you. You write some notes in your notepad about the foul stench and lack of use for that building, writing demolish with question marks and drawing a big circle around it.

“This is where we sleep, we have a dozen men on base at the moment, myself and 3 others are the task force 141 team you’ll be working closely with, your room is this one right here.”

You come to a stop, room 5F. He hands you the key, putting a spare in his pocket. Your luggage is sitting outside the door already.

“Keeping the spare key for any particular reason?”

“For emergencies only, we’ve had an incident where someone had a heart attack and locked themselves in. He passed away before we could get to him. Just a precaution, that’s all.”

The room is stuffy when he opens the door, the single bed is topped with a 4 inch mattress and one old flimsy blanket and a flat pillow, you’re grateful you brought your own bedding.

“If you need anything give me a buzz, I’ll text you the address of the bar tonight.” He gestures to a small piece of paper on the wall, sticky taped on all four sides. Written Prices name and mobile number.

“Right. Thanks.” You drag your luggage in from outside the door, the wheels are loud on the floor as it squeaks. You begin to unpack your things, deciding to put up the image of your nephew on the bedside table, having cropped out your ex-husband from the image to show the two of you, an image from your last birthday you spent with him.

“I want a corner piece please, please!” The boy pleas, his love for the crispy par burnt edges of your birthday cake were his favourite. You slice him up a large piece, swiping your finger in the delicious yellow frosting that topped his oversized piece. You lean into him and wipe it on his face, earning a groan of protest from him as he retreats from you.

“I’m trying to eat it, not wear it!” You laugh, cutting your family each a slice of the cake your brother-in-laws wife had made. The sunflowers were handcrafted with such delicacy you were saddened to cut into them-let alone eat them.

“Alright, alright, I guess I can leave you unbothered. But just for the moment.” You push his arm with your own gently in a playful manner.

To your surprise, he pulls out a sunflower from beside the seat he sits on, you set the cake down and grasp the flourishing flower, inspecting the beauty and vibrancy of the perfectly bright yellow petals, it had been picked perfectly. Tears pricked your eyes as you held the flower.

“God kid, you know how to make me cry dontcha?” He grins, his mouth full of chocolate mud cake, “good tears, right?” You smiled at your nephew and he smiled back, “right.” Unbeknownst to you in that moment-your brother in law had snapped an image.

A picture you held dear to your heart, and now bedside. You manage to pull yourself away from the image-a painful memory in which all of him had become, yet you had to preserve as there was no one left that would do so. You refused to let his memory die.

You pull your mask down as you near the sink, a crusty mirror hangs above it, barely clear enough for you to see yourself as much more than a blur. You reapply the black paint to your face as some unwelcome tears had fallen and dropped down your cheeks, ruining the pigment of the paint. You brush your teeth, turning the tap on to see a musty brown coloured water before it turns clear, note to self, don’t drink the water unless it’s bottled.

You apply some deodorant before pulling your mask back upward, your hot breath is once again trapped in the confines of the mask as you close yourself off. Your phone vibrates on the bed and you check it’s a text from Price confirming the location of the ‘meeting’. More like a typical military piss up, these men will find any excuse to drink.

Price: “Bar at 112 West Highland Road. Neon green sign out front, be blind to miss it.”

You: “Got it. Be there soon.”

The bar was quieter than you expected, sure it had a few typical rowdy drinks, but nothing like any of the chaos you’d experienced in America. It doesn’t take long for you to spot Price, your eyes scanning every face in the room as if you’ve got facial recognition in your brain, just in case you need to remember. Price stands from his seat, 3 other men sit with him, one is significantly larger than the rest, he’s wearing a black hoodie and jeans, the rest you don’t see as he’s turned towards the bar.

You stand tall as you approach them, people moving out of your way as you barge into their shoulders roughly.

“Glad you could join us tonight. This is the rest of the team, Gaz, Soap and Ghost.” He points to his men and you shake the hand of Gaz first, “nice meeting you Gaz.” He’s got a bright smile that you find hard not to reciprocate.

“I’m John McTavish but you can call me Soap, ma’am.” You raise an eyebrow, two johns? Seriously? You shake his hand, “I’ll keep that in mind, Soap.”

The last man you approach is large, he’s tall and a black baklava with a skull print covers his face. His hoodie is pulled up and a black substance covers his eyes, his blonde lashes untouched as they poke through, his blue eyes are piercing as they stare through you. “Ghost eh, interesting. I like the look.” He looks you up and down before nodding. “Appreciated Captain.” He sets his drink down on the bar and you take a seat in between him and Soap, there feels something familiar about his accent, those beaming blue eyes and blonde eyelashes, but you chalk it up to him being British. “Call me Mercy.”

“How’d ya come up that callsign?” Soap inquires. You exhale deeply, this was going to be a long night.

“Before I answer any damn questions, I need a drink.” The bartender took your order, within the minute you had the drink sitting in front of you, pleading for you to drink it so it could take your pain away for you, deal with the guilt and memories you found to traumatic to continue to think about.

You take a sip and smack your lips. “It was an inside thing between my nephew and I, the name kinda just stuck.”

You finished off your drink and slid it back to the bartender who gave you a refill as you asked. “You got family back home then?” Gaz questions.

Thank god for the refill. “Negative. All deceased.” The men went quiet and you sip on the liquid, it warms you from the inside out, taking away the guilt and stripping you down to where you had no emotion on the topic. They murmur apologies and you feel ghosts gaze on you, his eyes felt dark and sinister, like he was distant from his physical body, he didn’t really feel there.

“You ever marry?” You grit your teeth, your jaw is clenching so hard you can almost feel your teeth grinding. The mention of your husband boils your blood, but also breaks your heart into a million shards.

“Still married, technically. Piece of shit ghosted me when things got hard, haven’t seen him since. First thing I’ll do if I ever see that sorry bastard is serve him the divorce papers I’ve been carrying for half a decade. Cant change my last name without the divorce being finalised.”

You throw your neck back as you finish off your second glass of whiskey. Your bladder feeling full from the beverage, your mind hazy and spinning already, the talk of your husband is making your head ache. You pull of your ID and card, throwing it onto the bench for the bartender, “excuse me a moment while I use the restroom, prepare another drink for when I get back would you?”

The bartender watches you hesitantly and mutters, “sure.”

The bartender tossed your cards back to the bench in front of you, attempting to sit them where you left them, seemingly throwing it too far as your ID rolls off the bar onto the floor beside your stool legs. Soap mutters, “fuckin idiot.” As he picks up your card, setting it back upright in front of your drink, noticing the last name, he does a double take. He thinks his eyes are deceiving him when he sees your last name- Riley. This surely is just a coincidence, right?

“Eh Lt, you seen this lass’ last name, might be a relation to you.” Ghost turns to soap, irritated by his shenanigans, but glances towards the card anyway and can’t take his eyes away from it. He sees you- her. His wife. It’s her face and her name, how did you get this? His wife hated the military, war and fighting, she would never join it, let alone become a Captain of her own army.

He felt his blood boiling, the alcohol in his blood seemed to fuel the fire swirling in his stomach. How wife was killed that night along with the rest of his family- it made him sick to his stomach having to think you could try and come into this talk force and betray him.

“You alright Simon?” Prices voice is unheard, the noise of the bar and the photo of his wife’s face brings back too many painful memories for him to focus on the reality. Memories that plagued his nightmares- of you and him.

“What do you think Si?” She twirls in the blue sundress for him as her hair falls over her shoulders, he can only smile at the sight of her, her beauty was immeasurable to him-incomparable. He had never felt this way before about anyone. In that moment, he remembers how perfect he thinks she would’ve looked swollen with his child.

His hands snaked their away around her waist, pulling her into his body. “You know I think you look fuckin’ perfect baby, always perfect.” She rolls her eyes at his compliment.

“This is a serious matter you know! It’s a wedding, people will be taking pictures that last many lifetimes, you look so handsome and I have to match it.” He remembers cradling her face, forcing her to look him in his eyes, “you look better than I ever could, baby.”

She smiled but shook her head, “no one could ever be more handsome than my husband.” She rubbed her hands up and down his white long sleeve button up shirt, smoothing out the collar which barely had a wrinkle in it post ironing.

“What’d I ever do to deserve you hm?” His voice was a quiet whisper, she’d worked through previous hardships, his struggles and scars she had kissed better and even attempted to stitch up when he’d come home because he blatantly refused to let anyone else touch his body. She had been there through the worst of it, helped him through his family troubles, stayed after he applied for the military and stayed up during the nights he had nightmares, his ptsd was severe for months on end when he first signed up.

“You deserve me Si, more than anything you deserve me.”

“Ghost?” Soaps hand was on his shoulder, shaking him out of his hazy memories of his old wife.

“Need a minute outside.”

As he pushes through the large crowd, he finds you already outside, smoking a cigarette that blows large clouds through the cool night air. You pull down the bottom of your mask, not wanting to be exposed to the larger man. He towers over you, something about his size and silence is both terrifying and has you feeling safe.

“Don’t like people seein’ your face?” You’re surprised when he asks, having not said much to you this evening.

“No one but myself has in a long time.” He leans up against the brick wall, standing too close for your liking beside you.

“You ever get sick of it?” You turn to him, squashing your cigarette underneath your boot, the red light fizzling out on the damp cement.

“Sick of what exactly?” You turn to him, an arm on your hip.

“Bein’ a snake, pretendin’ to be someone you’re not.” This makes you frown, your impatience coming in at an all time high, blood pressure rising as this man insults you.

“If you’ve got something to say, Ghost, I suggest you spit it out.” You snap accusingly, pointing at his chest as you stand tall, keeping eye contact and not intimidated by what he’s doing. You take a step closer and he comes off of the brick wall, standing a foot in front of you.

“You’re the enemy, have to be smarter than to use an ID of someone who is dead!” He snarls, his voice is booming as he swings at you, his fist connects with your stomach and it sends you sliding backwards on the wet cement. You exhale, steadying your breathing after the hit. You lunge towards him, ducking at the last second to avoid is hands trying to grab you, you kick as his knees and one falters, nearly bringing him to the ground, you had quickly figured out his weakness.

He levels himself on his leg, watching you with a look so furious in his eyes you want nothing more than to erase the look from your mind, if you had to accomplish that with violence-so be it.

He pulls out his knife from his boot, you scowl as he does so, “fucking coward, fight like a man!” You yell at him, he ignores you and charges like a raging bull, heavy footsteps slow in comparison to your nimble movements which allows you to narrowly avoid the knife he aimed to plunge into your ribs.

You pulled out your own knife, “wanna fucking okay dirty hm? Come on then you fucking prick! I’m not scared of you, I eat shitheads like you for fucking dinner.” You’re eyeing each other off, circling like predator and prey, although no one knows who is which yet. The rain makes it difficult to see, the drops falling onto your mask make it more difficult to breath through. Through the scuffle part of your hair had fallen out of its plait, the strand of hair irritating and blinding you as it sits in front of your eyes.

“Fuck it.” You growl lowly, tearing off your mask as you cut it with your knife, all while avoiding a blow from Ghosts forward attack, you pull your hair backwards and tuck it behind your ear.

The man freezes in place, his movements stop entirely, the knife falling from his hands, clattering onto the wet sidewalk. As he sees her-you, his wife. Your face is more matured, it’s grown into its features and you have a sternness he doesn’t recognise, eyes as cold as stone as you watch him fall apart before you. He notices a giant scar along your nose that has never been seen before.

“It can’t be, you’re dead, you died-“ he trails off, eyes wide as he watches you like a Hawk.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You growl, confused and still pent up from the fight.

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t mutter a single word, he barely finds the strength to lift his hands to the bottom of his baklava and pulls it off his face, revealing himself for the first time in over a decade. He felt himself crumbling, so vulnerable and exposed to the world, his world-you. His wife and the woman he loved so much-loves.

You stutter for a moment before your face hardens again, you storm forward and shove him, your fists hit his chest so many times you can’t count, he doesn’t react, he just stands like a punching bag for you to let out your Pent up anger. You pull away from him, the thought of touching him and him touching you, made you nauseous.

“You piece of shit! You left me! For better or worse my fucking ass!” You pace the sidewalk, kicking the trash can as a decades worth of emotions come crashing down on you. “You weren’t even there for the funeral Simon! Have you even visited them? Since they’ve died, have you? I see Joseph whenever I get the chance.”

Tears are falling down your face at the thought of him, your nephew Joseph.

“Don’t talk about him.” Simon growls, obviously still a soft spot for him. You roll your eyes, “I thought you were fucking dead with them! When I ran through that house and didn’t find you I thought they’d taken you to fucking get back at me! I chased every piece of intel for years on end trying to find you.” He steps towards you, his big chest heaving. The street lamp above you shines above him, his face looking more scarred and handsome as ever.

“I killed every damn one of those motherfuckers and you were still nowhere to be found. I dedicated the past decade of my life trying to find you and you’re in the fucking military, alive and fine.”

You slap him across the face at his accusation.

“If you think this is me fine Simon Riley, you’re stupidly fucking mistaken. Now get the fuck out of my face! I’m your Captain, you’re dismissed! Get the fuck out of my sight.”

You storm away from him, sheathing your knife into your leg harness. Once you were far away enough and sure he couldn’t see you, you slipped on your mask and sobbed, uncontrollably against the wall of a building in the street, forgetting about the bar, the team and the ID you’d left behind. Screw all that, in the morning you were going home. The rain poured on you, your uniform heavy on your skin as it sticks.

You mindlessly walk until you reach base, not realising how far you’d walked until you ended up standing out the front of your room door with the key in hand ready to unlock the door. You exhale and close the door, removing your mask and grabbing a fist full of wipes to clean the smudged black face paint that had dropped down your neck from the rain and probably your tears. Fuck Simon, you couldn’t stay here, not when he was a constant reminder of the pain, your past was too much to have to relive everyday. The death, blood, the screams, the way he abandoned you.

You sit on the chair beside your desk, grabbing the photograph of you and Joseph before your emotionally exhausted body begins to slump over the desk, eyes fluttering shut before you can remember to take your pills.

You’re preparing Joseph’s things for a bath, his clothes laid down on his bed, his green towel and toothbrush on the bed. You’re about to call him up when you hear the front door bust open.

“Kill every last one of them, I want no survivors. Riley has to pay.” It’s a foreign voice you don’t recognise, the fear of something happening to your family and realising this is the end as they fire the first gunshot. The screams of your brother in law shake the foundation of the house as gunfire rings through the walls, his wife begging through her sobs for these men to stop, “we’ll do anything, please!”

Her pleas are ignored and she too is gunned down, silence fills the house, you sneakily hide in the bedroom closet in Joseph’s room, the door thankfully making no noise as you close the door shut, the old hinges working a charm for the first time ever. You can barely see anything through the tiny cracks of the closet door, the moonlight coming through the window is the only thing you see.

You hear footsteps running down the hall to your direction and you try to even your ragged breathing, you hear more footsteps running up the stairs, the thundering noise beats in your ears. You hear him crying, sobbing as he calls for help, for you to help him. You’re frozen, trembling in place as the kid stands there alone with a gun pointed to him in his own bedroom.

“He’s just a kid, can’t we leave him?” One man says, the other sneers at him, “boss said all of them, especially the kid.”

“No please!” Joseph begs before he’s gunned down, his blood splatters into the closet cracks and onto your face, you flinch and your eyes are wide as your nephew is ruthlessly murdered in front of you. You were too much of a coward to help him, you are compliant in his death.

The man walks closer to the closet, hand rattling on the closet door knob like he’s going to open it, then the sound of police sirens can be heard coming down the street, they’re coming fast and the red and blue lights are seen through the window, illuminating the room and the dead body but feet away from you.

“Hurry up and let’s get out of here. I ain’t goin to prison!” The hand releases the doorknob and trips over Joseph’s body, running downstairs as they escape the consequences.

Your body is trembling, stuck in a back and forth rock of trying to self sooth but to no avail. Your brain replays the scene over and over, him begging for your help and being shot by a couple thugs in a targeted attack.

“M sorry joey.” Is your mantra, you’re repeating it over and over, what starts as a soft whisper becomes a chant that attracts the police.

“Hey, we got a survivor over here!” The officer calls to his colleagues, trying to pry you from the closet. “What’s your name?” His voice is drowned out by your ears ringing, your dissociated state accompanied by the incoherence nonsense that leaves your lips, “mercy.” You mumble, mercy. That’s what you wanted, hoping the muttered word would stop the pain, stop the cruelty and stop the joke.

But it didn’t. Of course it didn’t.

Your eyes shoot open as you’re gasping for air, the scream that leaves your lips is one of genuine terror, your arms are thrashing and shoving the weight you feel on your arm as someone’s hand.

“It’s me, it’s just me.” You recognise his voice, Simon. Your heart is thumping and you sit up from your spot on the chair, pacing the small area in the room that Simon didn’t occupy.

“You have em too?” Your neck snaps around to Simon, glaring at him through your tears and wet face. “Of course I have them, I hear their screams and see Joseph killed in my head over and over on reply, as if it happened yesterday.”

Simon stumbles backward, shocked by your confession. “You- you saw him..” you rubbed your hands over your eyes. “Yes.” Confirming what Simon would never want to hear from you. You watched your nephew die.

“I don’t want you or need you in here Simon, I need you to leave.” He shuffles on his feet, his eyes torn between you and the photograph of you and his nephew on the table you’d just been cradling.

“If you ever want to talk-“ you cut him off with a scoff, irritated by his presence.

“I don’t. Now get out, I’m fine. I’m not here to make amends with you and sure as hell not trying to be your wife again, Simon. You were a shit husband, now please, get out.” You sigh, sitting on your bed, completely exhausted.

Simons heart shatters at your words, every wall he’s built comes crumbling down at his feet, he’s now left truly alone. The hope of you had kept him going- now what does he have? He simply nods, wanting to respect your needs, when he reaches the door you call his name, he’s hopeful when he turns around to see you barely a foot away when you hand him an envelope.

“Sign the divorce papers Simon. Please.”

It feels like his heart has been stomped on the for third time tonight, you were trying to sever the last connection he had to you, his last name. The only proof he had that you were ever his, that his family existed at all; he holds the papers tight in his hand and walks out of your room, leaving you to take out your pills and swallow them dry, having a sleep that’s uninterrupted by those plaguing nightmares, those pills, your poison, you were at her mercy and Simon was at yours.

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