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witch-hazels-musings · 3 years

Note

Angst in coming. Diluc Zhongli and your pick being haunted by the SO they couldnt save.

Lingering Regret

Warning -> Only Angst (there isn’t a happy ending here, the reader is dead, all interactions are memories*, mentions of Kaeya (D), illness non-specific (Zh))

( i made myself cry )

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Dainsleif, Diluc, Zhongli

The ghosts of the past cling to our shadows and seep into our memories when we least expect them to. For some they can move on, they can be healed by the passing of time, but for others, it becomes a festering wound that will never seal.

Dainsleif

He was no stranger to regret, absolutely everything in his life was a torturous experience. From the day he became the Bough Keeper to the night he failed them all, it was a memory burned in his mind for all eternity and as if he bore the weight of all of Teyvats karma he wove it into the fabric of his being

There was nothing he thought could break him more, could lower himself further into the sinking sandpit that was his life - that was until the day he met you

Just how many years ago was it now. With the curse of immortality like a chain to a world he was obligated to avenge, it was growing harder and harder to remember you - but there were moments when he could see and those were the ones he longed to hold onto

“Dainsleif, are you ready?” Your voice called down to him, his eyes flooded by the bright light that surrounded you as you patiently waited for him to climb the dark stairs. You followed him everywhere, much to his disagreement, but he had grown warm to your company. “The day won’t wait for us, you know.”

The light was so bright, why was it hiding your face? Wait -- let me see your face, I can’t remember. Don’t … don’t leave.

He blamed himself for your death - there was no one else who could have stopped it but him and, on the day you left this world to a place he had no way of reaching, was the day he stopped caring

There were rumors of a man who took little to no payment for almost any job - 300 mora and he’d handle your issue. They called him “The soulless vessel” for he was void of any and all emotions

How could he hold onto something that he didn’t understand anymore, how was he capable of experiencing a sensation that had no more purpose - he was nothing but a shell without you

“Psst, Daini. Hey sleepy, wake up.” The sound of your laughter, let me hear it again.

“Silly, we can’t sleep forever, wake up.” The touch of your hands, oh I remember them now … were they always this small.

“I guess we can rest a bit longer, you know I won’t mind.” Your lips, how could I have forgotten their warmth; I’ll let you remind me.

“Dainsleif, I love you.”

The birds pulled him from his dream, their chirping calls to each other a playful and carefree tune. He felt the warmth of the sun on his face, how it cast its glow across his lips but as the memory of his dream began to fade away he covered his eyes with his hand to hide the tears that disappeared into his hair.

“Forgive me …”

Diluc

Lingering ghosts loved to slip into the darkness that was Diluc Ragnvindr - when they fit so perfectly there, why wouldn’t they make him their home

He had countless people close to him perish and each one was a direct result of his actions - his father, a slash of a blade, his brother, a clash of opposing elements, his values, a single dismiss of a hand, his friends, the darkness of the abyss and the hands of the Fatui -- there was nothing he let get close anymore because it was only a matter of time before he brought it crumbling to the pit of his existence

How could he have been so naive - what was hope but a debilitating disease and yet you purged all of that from his mind every time you entered his space, every time you pushed your way past the walls he so expertly crafted -- you were the last thing he clung to, the last light he vowed to protect

“You know, you don’t have to worry about me all the time, I’m more capable than you think.” You crossed your arms and gave him a cocky smirk, the bag of supplies resting at your feet as they waited for you to pick them back up again. It was only because of his hesitancy that they were there in the first place.

“I have seen your capabilities many times, yes.”

“So, what, you don’t trust me.”

“That is far from the truth.” He looked at you for a moment before sighing in defeat. His hand reached for the bag and lifted it to your hands. “Do be careful, is all that I ask.”

“You know I will.” With a bright smile, you took the pack and slung it over your shoulder. In your excitement, you turned toward the door before pausing as if you forgot something and when you hurled yourself back to him only to place a kiss on his lips, he felt the heat from his pounding heart rise into his cheeks. “See you soon, handsome.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

The distant and closed-off winery owner turned into a being of rage the day of your death. No matter how hard those closest to him tried to quell the wildfire that was his fury, they could only stand back and deal with the aftermath - The flame of Diluc’s devastation was so great that it left a permanent scar in Mondstadt and to this day the earth has yet to heal

It was on him to protect you and he couldn’t, he wasn’t even there to try and he wasn’t sure what was worse - but one was for sure, the anguish he felt knowing you called out for him but he never came to save you ate him up inside. He wasn’t Diluc Ragnvindr anymore, he was no-one

“Diluc! Come back!” Kaeya shouted but he couldn’t hear over the sound of the violent crashing and eerie nothingness in front of him.

“Kaeya, don’t!” Another voice joined the noise but Diluc didn’t turn around. In front of him was the only answer to his shattered and empty heart.

“Diluc please, they wouldn’t want this!” Kaeya reached for Diluc’s arm but the pressure and wind from the opening were so great it felt like a thousand anchors were strapped to his body. “Diluc!”

Suddenly, there was silence. No noise, no sound but the world continued to whip around like a violent storm. Kaeya’s fingers touched the fabric of his brother's coat and, as Diluc turned his head to look back, tears were streaming down his face. It was strange to see Diluc’s lips moving as if he were saying something but there was nothing, an unbearable amount of nothing.

Riddled with fear, Kaeya extended his hand toward the rip in space and as soon as he felt the pulse of his vision escape his fingers, his others curled around Diluc’s jacket and flung him backward. In the settling explosion, the sound of the world slipped back in and as those who cared deeply for the man who no longer knew his name drew closer, the first thing they saw was his hunched-over body guarded by blue and the sound of his painful cries.

Zhongli

To know suffering, to know loss was nothing new to the Geo Archon. For six thousand years he watched those close to him rise in greatness and fall in agony - for some they were thrust into death by a number of means and for others, well, his hands have never been clean

Still, even if he had known what it was like to lose someone he loved, it was never easy and while he always knew the day would come when you left this world to walk a path he’d never know, it wasn’t something he expected so soon

There were endless memories he couldn’t wait to make with you - the engraving your life into the notches of his soul, to be reminded of your face by simply turning around, to recall your wit with banter of his own, to be inspired by you every single day he stepped out the door -- why didn’t you stay

“Welcome home, Zhongli.” You were already preparing the table with the teacups by the time he entered your home. It was elegant incarnate to watch you move around the room, to place everything so perfectly and properly that he wondered if you hadn’t been a spirit in another life.

“I am home.” He reached for your waist and pulled you close, his smile setting yours off, and as the kettle began to sound he first greeted you with a heartwarming kiss.

There are many things he can circumvent - his capabilities are endless but he found that no matter how strong a person is, there is one thing strength cannot beat

To watch you slowly suffer was a torturous thing. Every day you grew weaker and weaker, your skin changed but the kindness of your smile outweighed it all until the day finally came ...

A ceremony to send someone off is a beautiful thing, a celebration of their life while they kept it their own, a remembrance and blessing to hold strong every impact they made - but to Zhongli that day was laced with bitterness

He made the arduous steps up the hillside. His legs carried him on even when nothing else of him felt the desire to do so. When he finally reached the peak, he prepared everything so skillfully as if he’d practiced this a thousand times, and it's possible he did for there was no end to his life even if he wished for it.

“My dear, the flowers are blooming splendidly.” He set the burning incense by the weathered tombstone. It had faded and eroded over the years, but as he brushed the engraving with his fingers, he could still make out its marks.

The chimes in the tree rang out as he poured a glass of tea before setting it against the small offering before you. “Ah, I can only hope you are able to see them from beyond the veil.” As he gazed out over the vast field, the sun illuminated the thousands of flowers that surrounded your grave, and, as he took a sip of his tea, he sighed contentedly before continuing, “Never worry, I shall cultivate more until you do. I know how fond you were of flowers.”

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imaslutforremusandsirius · 3 years

Text

For their pleasure part 2

I had no business reading wattpad and ao3 when i was like 11 yrs old

xinasvoice on ao3 is my guilty pleasure check her out!!!!!!

Part one

Warning: 18+

---

It had been days without any of your Doms touching you and James was seconds away from breaking the rules. You, of course, being the responsible one told him to calm down, trying to distract him whenever he raged about the punishment. You went as far as cuffing him to yourself at night to make sure that he wouldn‘t masturbate, because Remus would find out.

Sirius and Remus were rubbing it in your face, making out in front of you any chance they had, making you watch when they sucked each other off. James and you had been begging on your knees to at least touch them, but even that request was denied immediately.

„We need Sirius on our side“ James mused. „He‘s a switch, he knows how we feel. No chance in swaying Moony.“

That was true, Remus was the epitome of Dom, ruthless when it came to punishments. He would go out of his way to make the both of you suffer. Sadistic ass.

„I figured as much“ you said, absentmindedly playing with your necklace „but how?“

James smirked at you and bit his lip. „They never said that we couldn‘t touch each other. They only said not to cum.“

You perked up at that in momentary disbelief that James had found a loophole. Remus never made a mistake like that, he knew too damn well that James, being a marauder, would try to wiggle his way out of a punishment without breaking the rules. Unbelievable, you had found a way!

„So you‘re saying-“

„That we should catch Pads alone and make him wanna join us. He‘s our Dom too you know, he gets to bend the rules.“

You squealed at the idea and threw yourself at your fellow sub, both of you laughing with relief. You pressed kisses all over his face, smashing your lips on his.

„I fucking love you Potter.“

James hugged you back in excitement and gave you an arrogant grin. „You better, baby.“

---

Everything was set. Remus had a study date today, which meant that he‘d be gone the entire afternoon. James somehow managed to bribe Peter out of the dorm as well. Honestly you were too scared to ask how, so you just accepted it and Sirius should be back any second from his last class of the day.

You had chosen Sirius‘ favorite underwear set, simply black, but very revealing and lacey. James had dimmed the natural light in the room, putting up candles that made you both glow, shadows flickering gently against the walls.

Sirius might be dominant towards you both, but he really was easier to sway then Remus. He had told you often times that seeing you and James together is, in his words, unbelievably hot and makes me want to fuck you both so bad.

And by the looks of it he wasn‘t the only one who lost his composure around you. You let your eyes wander over James‘ naked body appreciatively, watching the way his muscles rippled under the smooth tan skin. He caught you staring and held his hand out, waving you over to him. Now it was his turn to admire your curves, hands twitching as if he was fighting himself to not ravish you on the floor, fuck the rules. Sometimes you wondered how he could be a sub.

„Come here“ James muttered lowly, pulling you to straddle his lap. „You look amazing. Your body is amazing.“

You kissed him back equally as deep, trying to pull away, but his lips kept pulling you back, much like a magnet.

„We should wait“ you moaned between kisses, changing your mind when his hands stroked down your body do grab your ass.

„I can‘t“ James groaned, burying his face in your neck to breathe you in. „I can‘t stay away from you any longer. I might go insane.“

He sucked at your skin as he talked breathlessly, your hips grinding against his cock on their own. Fuck, it‘s been so long. The way your were holding each other, not a single part of your skin untouched, made it pretty clear how desperate you were.

„My, my..“

Your turned around surprised that you hadn‘t heared Sirius come in. James looked up over your shoulder, hands digging into your skin to keep you seated.

„Sirius“ James grinned, „welcome.“

Sirius caught his bottom lip between his teeth, leaning against the door with one shoulder, head cocked to the side. The sight made him ache for his beautiful partners, he wanted to get lost in their touch. This has been hard on him as well, even if he had Remus to please him. But this was a four way relationship for a reason, which meant that he just needs the three of you equally. Sirius simply had too much love and desire in him to be chained to one partner in this lifetime.

He pushed himself off the wall and made his way over to James‘ bed. His pace was slow, a predatory glint in his grey eyes.

„You knew that I‘d be back by now...“ he stated, voice hoarse. His hands came up to stroke through your hair gently making you lean into his touch. God, it‘s been so long that even this felt like a rush of electricity.

Sirius’ dazed expression darkened as he observed the look of bliss on both of your faces. His hands tightened and he tugged hard, exposing your throats to him.

„What the fuck is this then?“ He asked sweetly, his eyes blazing with desire and rage. „Thought you could secretly get off?“

He tugged harshly when he saw James smirk and the boy cursed, eyes tearing slightly. „No. You said that we weren‘t allowed to cum, you never said that there should be no touching..“

There was a fleeting look of realization on his face, before he snarled angrily and let go of your hair to grasp at the side of James‘ face.

„God, James you have no idea just how much I want to make you bleed right now. Why can‘t you be good?“

His tone was full of rage, voice trembling a little and you dug your nails into James‘ shoulder to warn him from responding anything that would make your Dom lose his temper. But this was James, of fucking course he would.

„But Sirius“ he grinned, eyes focused on Sirius‘ mouth, „I am good.“

Sirius huffed, not able to deny the thruth.

„If any of you cum“ he growls out menacingly „I won‘t stop punishing until I break your skin. Understood?“ His hand yanked at James‘ hair again, the other squeezing around your neck.

„Yes, Sir.“ you gasped out when you noticed that James was too busy moaning at the pain. Fucking masochist.

Sirius gave you one last glare before he let go, seating himself on the opposite bed to watch. He waved his hands impatiently with an unbothered expression on his face, but secretly bursting with excitement to watch his subs play.

„What are you waiting for? Play.“ He lit himself a cigarette, leaning back against the headboard with his legs splayed wide open.

You didn’t have time to process the words before James flipped you over on your back, lips instantly on yours. He was uncoordinated, so desperate that his hands couldn’t stop shaking with lust as they trembled on your body. He was kissing you so deeply, as if he tried to consume your soul through your mouth, whining when his cock bumped into your inner thighs with every grind of your hips.

„Fuck baby, careful“ James whimpered, sinking his teeth into your jaw. „Or I‘ll cum before we start.“

God, James was so needy it made you melt. His callous hands were all over your legs, stopping to play with the hem of your underwear. He pulled back a centimeter only, grinning at you.

„Ready to start?“ You smiled back and nodded, watching him get back up on his knees and help you down the bed.

Your hands played with the edges of your bra, pulling at your garter belts. You made your way over to your stunned Dom, swaying your hips with every step to flaunt your body.

Sirius had long forgotten about the burning cigarette in his hand, head tilting up as you knelt before him on the bed between his open legs. You said nothing as you took his wrist and guided the cigarette to your lips, staring down at him. His lips parted as he watched your lips wrap around the drug, hollowing your cheeks obscenely. Fuck, Sirius felt like dying.

He cleared his throat and licked his lips. „You should share baby“ he rasped, Adams apple bobbing as he gulped.

You smirked and leaned in, pressing your lips to his and he opened his mouth, breathing in the smoke. The contact made him jerk out of his haze and he threw the cigarette to the side, kissing you hard. His lips were all over your face, returning to your mouth every few seconds.

„Fuck, I‘ve missed your taste“ he moaned, licking your lips. He let you pull away reluctantly, head banging against the headboard as he tried to control himself.

„James“ you called, eyes still on Sirius‘, „Join me..“

You heard his heavy footsteps approach the bed and Sirius’ eyes flickered behind you, biting his lip when he saw that James was completely naked. James wrapped his strong arms around your waist, pulling your back flush against his warm chest. Your head fell back in satisfaction, goosebumps forming on your skin when James’ hands trailed down your breasts to your lower stomach.

„So soft“ James whispered, kissing the side of your neck, „Smell so good..“

Sirius‘ breathing got harder when you moaned and he glared at James, daring him to tease him further.

„Take off her lingerie“ Sirius commanded, not able to suppress the slight needy tone in his voice.

„Yes, Sir“ James chuckled, sitting back on his ass to pull you between his legs. You bend your legs and let James pull your panties off, the underwear sticking on your wet cunt. Sirius breathing got even harder, hands flexing and his eyes focused on your pussy when you spread it with your fingers.

„James“ you whined, lips twitching into a smile when Sirius‘ eyes narrowed, „Please, touch me. Want it so bad..“

James hands replaced your hands, middle finger rubbing your clit and you jerked, leaning further into his chest.

„Yes, so good“ you moan, staring into Sirius‘ dilated pupils.

James pushed a finger inside, taking off your bra to play with your nipples. He rested his chin on your head, the both of you holding eye contact with your Dom. Sirius was so overwhelmed with what he saw that his eyes flickered between yours every second, not knowing who he wanted to settle on.

„May I fuck her, Sirius?“ James asked sweetly.

Sirius glared at him sharply, raising a brow. His voice was strict when he responded, not a trace of weakness in it although his hand trembled when he palmed his cock through his pants.

„What makes you think you deserve that?“

Well fuck. James‘ face fell, he didn‘t expect that answer. Sirius wasn‘t as easy as he thought.

„Let me deserve it then“ James begged, „Please, I‘d do anything!“

Sirius stretched his hand out, beckoning him close.

„Let me look at you, boy.“

You protested a little when James pulled his fingers out, nipping at your ear in warning. He muttered a silent, „Behave“ in your ear and crawled his way over to his Dom.

„James, baby“ Sirius stroked James‘ cheek, „I want you to suck my cock.“

James closed his eyes and let out a loud whine, hands pulling down Sirius‘ pants eagerly. Sirius’ caught his hands, thumb brushing over James’ bottom lip, smirking softly when he saw the look of submission on his usually bratty face.

„Do not breathe a single word of this to Daddy, you hear me?“

The demand was meant for you, you being the one who addressed Remus as Daddy, but James didn‘t mind referring to him in that way.

James nodded, tongue peaking out to suck the finger in his mouth, teeth nipping a little.

„Never, Sir.“

You let out a breathy, „Yes, Sir“ and crawled tonwards them as well, leaning your head against Sirius‘ inner thigh to watch closely. God, really wanted to be James right now.

Sirius crossed his arms behind his head, relaxing when James‘ wet lips wrapped around him. James began slow, eyes closing in enjoyment the moment his taste buds registered the taste of Sirius‘ precum, his muscle memory instantly activated. His pink lips stayed wrapped around the head, his tongue licking the underside of Sirius‘ hard cock.

You whined softly, leaving kisses along his inner thighs and blinked up at him. Sirius paid you no mind, turning your head towards James again to make you watch. James, that fucker, still somehow managed to look smug with Sirius‘ cock stuffing his mouth. You could feel the amusement drip off him in waves.

Not able to contain yourself you let your hands trail over your Doms leg towards his cock, feeling along the vein. Sirius hissed at the gentle caress, hands tangling in your hair to pull your face closer to his. You groaned at the pain, gripping him tighter and his eyes fell shut for a moment, before he opened them again.

„You wanna touch my cock so bad? Hm? Is that why you‘re acting like a greedy whore?“

You wrapped your hand around his balls, squeezing them in your soft palms. Leaning in you brushed your lips against his, gazing deeply into his nearly black eyes. Sirius couldn’t concentrate like this, feeling James sucking his cock and having you so close made him dizzy with desire.

„Let us take care of you“ you purred softly, feeling your hand get wet with James‘ spit as he started to suck harder, clearly done with waiting. „Don‘t deny yourself what you want...“

Now that seemed to pull him out of his state and he pushed you down by your shoulders, forcing James‘ head down so far that his nose was smushed against the skin of his abdomen. He pushed your head down farther and you licked at his balls, sucking them messily. Sirius was writhing now, head thrown back and his mouth wide open, moans echoing in the soft glow of the room.

„Ah fuck yes there James-“

He trusted up into James mouth, voice breaking as he moaned the boys name, nearly sobbing with pleasure. He was finally giving in, spreading his legs to give you both space.

You tangled your hand in James‘ hair and pulled him off, glaring at him.

„I want him too.“

James glared back at you, not willing to share Sirius, but you beat him to it, wrapping your lips over the tip. Sirius whined, a high pitched, needy and absolutely filthy sound. James kissed the shaft, licking, spitting, jerking him off.

Your lips met as you sucked him, kissing with the tip of his cock between your open mouths and Sirius whimpered under you, seconds away from begging his subs, when James took him into his hot mouth and you went down on his balls. Sirius' head tilted back, face wide with an expression of sheer ecstasy. He came loudly, shouting out your names, spilling out onto your overlapping mouths.

„Fuck yes yes yes“ Sirius was wild with the force of his orgasm, not letting you back up until ever last drop of his cum was down your throats. Suddenly he pulled you up by your necks, heaving with effort.

„Show me.“

You opened your mouths and Sirius‘ face was so full of pleasure your thought that he was about to cum again. Groaning, he pressed your lips together and watched you kiss deeply, licking his cum from each others mouths.

„I will let you fuck“ he rasped „because you truly earned it. However, you will come when I say it. Yes?“

You and James immediately leaned forward to kiss him, making him chuckle at your eagerness. No wonder why he was the favorite Dom. Sirius sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening, begging the universe to never let Remus know of this. There is a reason for Sirius being a switch.

Sirius wasn‘t done with requesting and sat up against the headboard, pulling you to straddle his hips.

„You‘ll fuck her on my lap, James. I want to watch her come...“

James didn‘t really care and instead busied himself with fingering you, preparing your for his cock. You moaned loudly, wrapping your arms around Sirius‘ strong shoulders, doing your best not to cum on the spot. You couldn‘t stop yourself from shaking when James‘ thick fingers fucked your sweet spot with every push of his hand, your clit rubbing across Sirius‘ pubic bone.

„Already shaking, love?“ James mocked you, pushing in deeper to watch you crumble. „I haven‘t even started yet.“

Sirius raised his brow, daring him to go further. „If I recall correctly James, you were begging me mere minutes ago to suck my cock.“

James‘ eyes narrowed but he shut up, taking his anger out on you. He ripped his fingers out and instantly replaced them with his cock, making you scream at the stimulation. He didn‘t let you get used to him, not caring if you were hurting when he was feeling so fucking good.

Sirius kissed you, talking against your lips. „Don‘t scream, you wanted to be fucked. Here you go, baby.“

You were clawing all over Sirius‘ flesh, pushing back against James, your pleasure escaping you in sharp cries. James was feral, chasing his high, addicted to the feeling of your wet heat wrapped around his pulsing cock. His hands crushed your hips, his hand came up to push you down on Sirius‘ chest. Angling his hips he pounded in you and oh, he was hitting every spot inside of you with so much precision that you started to cry.

„Please“ you wailed „Please please let me cum!“

Sirius took your face in his hands, wiping away the tears as he stared at you, breathing hard as he watched James fuck you into pieces. He couldn‘t deny you this, not when you had that expression on your face and he caved, nodding curtly.

You came immediately, biting his wrist to keep in your screams and James‘ pace faltered. He keened and spilled himself inside of your cunt, pressing his face closer to Sirius. Sirius kissed him fiercely, wrapping his arms tightly around the both of you to keep you close to his strong chest.

„Well done, pups“ Sirius said softly, kissing your sweaty temples. „So good, so beautiful. Both of you, so special.“

James and you basked in his soft words, cuddling close, for once not arguing.

Sirius tapped your chins up, giving you a stern look, but his tone was somewhat humorous.

„Daddy can‘t know.“

---

There will be a part 3 (last part)

#sirius x james x you #sirius black smut #james potter smut #marauders era x reader #marauders smut #hp marauders

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mochegato · 3 years

Text

Even the Losers

Chapter 7

Chapter 1 Chapter 6

Marinette rubbed her head as though the action might actually have an effect on her throbbing headache. It hadn’t any time she’d tried it in the last hour, but it gave her brain the illusion that she was doing something to help other than just waiting for the painkillers to kick in. The action also gave her something to focus on other than the pounding hangover from not getting nearly drunk enough last night. Because somehow despite the massive amounts she, Jason, and Roy had drunk last night, all of her problems still existed. Utter bullshit, that. And now she still had to deal with all her problems and felt like crap on top of it. Double bullshit.

She adjusted her sunglasses again, fighting the urge to squint because squinting hurt. Although honestly, she wasn’t sure which hurt more, the florescent lights, the sunlight beaming through the hotel windows, or squinting. She was sure there was some way to settle the glasses on her face to block out all light, she just hadn’t been able to figure it out. She now realized why people significantly smarter than her wore those godawful, ugly glasses that wrap around their head and cut out all sun.

She took a deep breath and braced herself for the full blast of a suspiciously sunny Gotham morning. Gotham has like three sunny days a year and one of them is today? What the Hell did she do to Tikki to deserve the last few days? She wandered out of the hotel still contemplating revenge. How does one get revenge against a god anyway? How many ways can she destroy cookies?

She didn’t get more than a few steps before she sensed someone in front of her. She weaved slightly to the left but quickly realized there was someone there too. She weaved to the right and finally looked up when she realized there was someone there. There were people all around her, taking pictures of her, shoving phones in her face as they yelled questions at her.

She stumbled back a few steps and blinked at the group of reporters that had apparently been camping out in front of the hotel for her. She quickly plastered on one of Adrien’s patented PR smiles and nodded to them. She tried to push through them, expecting them to move out of her way, as they did in Paris for Adrien. But reporters in Gotham clearly did not show the same respect that Parisian reporters did because none of them moved out of her way.

Her smile strained slightly as she looked to the one in front of her. “Excuse me, please,” she requested in the most sickeningly sweet voice she could manage.

The reporter sent back an excited smile. “Ms. Dupain Cheng, would you care to comment on your relationship with your family? Perhaps explain why Gotham hadn’t had the pleasure of your presence before?”

Marinette looked the reporter up and down. She looked at the group surrounding her, noting how they had closed the circle to the point of touching her. She’d been to raves with more personal space. She moved to push through a small gap between reporters, but stopped when they quickly closed the gap. Marinette gritted her teeth and widened her smile. “There’s a reason we’ve chosen not to speak about this and that reason was NOT to discuss it in an exclusive with you at this exact moment. Now if you will excuse me, I would very, very much like to get some coffee. I’m sure you can understand the difficulty of starting a day without it.”

She gave them a conspiratorial smile, hoping if they felt like they were in on the joke they would let her through. Instead, her response emboldened the reporters, who started shouting out her name and more questions.

“Will you attend more Wayne functions now?”

Marinette didn’t even know which reporter shouted the question to address them if she wanted. She huffed and decided to give up on pleasantries. She was hung over. She was hungry. She wanted coffee. “Why would people change a relationship that doesn’t involve you because you know about it?” she grunted as she tried to push through the cracks between people.

The reporters closed ranks tighter around her, making it impossible for her to break through without injuring someone, which she was sure was the plan of at least a few of them. Whether it was to get a more salacious story or to sue Bruce Wayne, she wasn’t sure. Probably both. She looked back to the hotel lobby hoping the concierge would see her predicament and help her, but he was determinedly ignoring the scene in front of the hotel.

She set her jaw and prepared herself to create a scene channeling her best imitation of an irate Chloe Bourgeoisie. She’d deal with the fallout later. Right now, she needed to get out of this situation before someone actually did push a little too hard and tiny gods decided to curse the city. She opened her mouth to yell but instead heard someone else’s voice boom through the crowd.

“I think my sister told you to leave her the fuck alone.”

Marinette looked around to try to find the source of the voice but couldn’t see past the wall of reporters. She didn’t have to wait long for him to push his way through the crowd like a wrecking ball, not worrying about injuring anyone as he shoved his way through. Jason stopped in front of her with a smirk. “She just says it in a much more polite way than I do.” He held up a bag and a tray of coffee. “I come bearing gifts so you don’t have to deal with this shit out there somewhere.”

Marinette shot him a grateful smile and turned back toward the hotel. “That sounds brilliant. Thank you.”

Jason winked at her. “I got you.”

They didn’t stop or even look at each other until the elevator doors closed behind them. Marinette leaned against the wall and finally took a full breath. She looked over to Jason with another grateful smile. “Thank you. I wasn’t expecting that and I…” She looked down for a moment to collect her thoughts. “I wasn’t prepared. I’ll do better next time.”

Jason’s eyes softened. The press was a lot for all of them to get used to. None of them had taken naturally to it, especially Gotham’s press. They at least had the advantage of starting young and knowing what to expect, not to mention since they were kids, the press didn’t have a lot of chances to get to them. Marinette had just been thrown out there without a life preserver. Bruce didn’t even send any guards. “Don’t worry about it. I thought you could use the save.”

Marinette laughed and narrowed her eyes at him. “That was a socially acceptable version of a kidnapping. I had no way of getting out of that without exposing that there is no relationship.”

“Should have just exposed it then,” he shrugged, not remotely nonplussed by her comment. “I just thought you could use some sustenance after last night.” He held up the bag for her as they exited the elevator and made their way to her room. “I know you must be used to fancy French food so I got a variety of food from the best bakery in town. And I didn’t know how you take your coffee or if you prefer tea so I got both and lots of sugar and creamer.”

Marinette giggled as she opened her door. “You’re not wrong. My parents owned a patisserie. I grew up on the best baked goods in France.”

Jason blinked a few times at her before setting the drinks and food on the coffee table. “That’s it, next family reunion is at your place.”

“Not so sure that’s going to be a thing,” she said quietly. She reached for one of the croissants and ripped off a small piece, popping it in her mouth. “Not really sure I count as family. That’s kind of been made clear.”

“Yeah well, we didn’t know and we’d like to get to know you, if you’re okay with it,” he said biting off a chunk of cheese Danish. “Look, I’m not looking for family dinners and brunches and shit, I just… want to make sure you’re okay.” He looked up at her earnestly for a moment before his eyes turned mischievous. “Although if you grew up in a bakery, I might want all that at your parents’ place.”

“At least you’re asking. That’s something anyway,” she grumbled as she took another small bite.

“Speaking of family, where is model boy?”

Marinette puckered her lips in disapproval as she watched the crumbs fall from Jason’s mouth as he spoke. She looked away before she snapped at him. “He and Max went apartment hunting.”

“Without you?” Jason asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Neither of them were suffering from a raging hangover that took double the normal dosage of painkillers just to take the edge off of,” she said pointedly.

“Coffee,” Jason grunted, motioning toward the coffee. “Lots of coffee and food and water.” He pushed the bag toward her. “Not the bird bites you’ve been taking.”

She studied the croissant in front of her with a furrowed brow as though it had some kind of answers for her. She nearly dropped it when she heard a knock on the door. She looked through the peephole and gasped, flinching back from the door. Jason immediately jumped up and ran over to her. “What is it? Another reporter?”

“No,” Marinette rasped out, her eyes never leaving the door. “Worse.” Her heart started racing and her breathing became labored. She wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t ready to speak with him. What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to speak with him? She didn’t even know how she felt yet. She hadn’t sorted through this all yet. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes. She wasn’t ready. This was happening too fast.

She flinched visibly when he knocked again. He’d had time to prepare. He’d had time to think this through. He knew how he felt about this. He’d had time to plan and prepare. She had none of that and here he was on her doorstep. He knew about her and she knew nothing about him. He was ready and she wasn’t given that chance.

She was just expected to deal with it. She was just expected to handle it. She was just expected to accept it. He’d created this entire situation and she was left to pick up the pieces and move on. And now he was here. He was on her figurative doorstep in person and now she had to deal with it, on his timetable, according to his preference, because yet again it all had to be done on his terms. Her preferences didn’t matter. Her feelings didn’t matter. Her opinion didn’t matter.

“Want me to kick their ass out?” Jason offered already reaching for the handle.

Marinette shook her head and let out a calming breath. He thinks he can come in after twenty years gone and act like everything is fine and expect her to play nice, he has another thing coming. He wanted a detached relationship? She could do that. She’d seen it enough growing up with Adrien and Chloe’s parents. She knew how to play the game.

She shook her hands to get the tension out before finally reaching out to open the door. “Mr. Wayne. This is an unexpected pl… experience,” she stuttered. She mentally grimaced. She was showing weakness. She needed to be strong. She plastered on a clearly fake smile. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being weak. She wouldn’t cry for him. She hadn’t cried because of him in the twenty years he’d been absent, she wouldn’t do it now.

Bruce took a breath. “Marinette…” He froze for a second. He hadn’t thought hard enough about this. He knew what he wanted to say, what he wanted to tell her, but he hadn’t thought about how to tell her, how to lead into it. “I was hoping to speak with you,” he rushed out, wincing internally at the sound of it.

“Well, that’s a first,” she scoffed before she could stop herself. She slapped her hand over her mouth and mentally berated herself. What was she doing? She was supposed to be calm not cruel. She was losing this game!

Jason grinned and propped his arms behind his head as he kicked out his legs, the very picture of relaxed. “I like her. I’m keeping her.”

Marinette shot him an appreciative smile but Bruce did a double take, frowning at the sight. His mind raced as to what it meant that Jason was there. Was it good? It was good, wasn’t it? She was getting close to one of her brothers already. But that brother was Jason, and despite the fact that he loved Jason, he was well aware their relationship was still contentious at best. Not exactly the best brother for her to get close to. And he was already encouraging her hostility against him. Not that he didn’t deserve it, he knew he did, it was just that any of the other brothers would help mitigate that hostility. Jason would fan it. “Jason, what are you doing here?”

“Brought baked goods and coffee,” he answered casually, a smirk making its way onto his face. “You?”

Bruce let out a heavy sigh through his nose and smoothed out his face. Getting annoyed now would do nothing for his goal. If Marinette was connecting to Jason, getting frustrated with him would just push her further away. “As I mentioned, I was hoping I could speak with Marinette about the… situation. I wanted…”

“‘The situation’,” Jason mocked shaking his head at Bruce. God was he always this bad with his kids? He thought it was just him. “Way to sound sincere, B.”

Bruce’s lips pursed until they were no longer visible. He didn’t need Jason sabotaging him right now. He was doing a good enough job of it on his own. “I’d like to speak with Marinette on our own, please. Why don’t you go home?”

Marinette’s eyes went wide and her chest clenched. She didn't want Jason to leave. She wasn't ready for Jason to leave. Once Jason left it was just her and him. Just thinking about it suddenly she couldn't breathe. Suddenly the air felt too thin and too heavy at the same time. No. She needed somebody else here.

Jason shot a look over to Marinette, letting his eyes pass over Marinette like he hadn’t been noting her body language. He let his eyes wander for a second before returning to Bruce with a tilt to his head. “No. I’m witnessing this, unless Pixie tells me to go home.”

Marinette could have kissed him… on the cheek. Because he was her br… it was complicated. But she was beyond grateful he had spoken up for her. She let out the breath she’d been holding and raised an eyebrow at him. “Pixie?”

“Small, violent,” Jason grinned at her.

Marinette laughed and playfully narrowed her eyes at him. “Fine, whatever, Goliath.”

Jason leaned back again. “Oh, no, that one’s already taken. By a dragon bat, no less.”

Marinette’s face scrunched in confusion. She tried to search through her Americanisms for what a dragon bat could be. It had to be a species of bat right? Maybe? But then again it was American English so for all she knew it could be a flower. “A what?”

“Jason!” Bruce admonished. He was really not looking forward to trying to explain what a dragon bat was or how Damian came to be in possession of one.

Jason rose up enough to grab one of the croissants and shove half of it into his mouth before he spoke. “I’ll introduce you sometime, or Damian will have to actually… which he won’t. I’ll show you a picture, you seem like the kind of person who likes terrifying animals as long as they’re fuzzy.”

“I… fair,” Marinette conceded easily.

“If I can bring us back to the topic at hand,” Bruce interjected loudly, cutting off any more discussion of dragon bats.

“Family bonding, right?” Jason cut him off with a pointed look. “Isn’t that what we were doing?”

Bruce glared at Jason for a few seconds, which did nothing to wipe the smug smirk off his face. Giving up on Jason, Bruce focused on Marinette. “At the gala you mentioned you didn’t plan on being in town much longer, leaving today actually. I was hoping I could convince you to stay a bit longer.”

Marinette examined him with a dour curiosity. She cocked her head to the side. “And why might that be? You don’t need me here to make an announcement that we prefer to keep our relationship private, hence they didn’t know about me.”

Bruce let out a deep sigh. That was fair. It was a fair response. Sabine had warned him she would be suspicious of him. “This isn’t for the public,” he assured her.

“Isn’t it?” She blinked a few times at him, her face blank. “Are you sure? It feels like it is.” She turned to Jason. “Doesn’t it feel like it is to you?”

“It does indeed,” Jason nodded in agreement, keeping eye contact with Bruce as he did.

“Jason…” he started threateningly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you relying on me to make fixing your fuck up easier for you? Wrong kid. You’re looking for Dick or Tim… actually I wouldn’t rely on Tim for help explaining why being an absentee father isn’t actually that bad.”

“Jason, I think it’s time for you to go home,” Bruce growled.

Marinette straightened up and moved between him and Jason. She wasn’t going to let him bully Jason for standing up for her. “I don’t think so. So far he’s the only member of my family I like.”

“Ooh, you should totally give Cass and Steph and Duke a chance too,” Jason offered with a faked enthusiasm as though the confrontation with Bruce didn’t just happen. He kept his eyes on Marinette but relished the increasingly frustrated scowl on Bruce’s face as they ignored him.

Marinette nodded. “I’ll consider it.”

“Oh and Alfred… and I guess Tim too. He’s a prick but he’s alright I guess,” Jason continued.

Marinette blinked at him. It was like a never ending list of people. An ongoing list of people he had taken in after walking away from her. A long list of people he’d cared about and for without having to be pressured into it by the press. A mile long list of people he wasn’t pretending to care about. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“We have a lot,” Jason corrected her. They were in this together and he’d remind her of that as many times as she needed. “Alfred isn’t a sibling though. He’s like a grandfather.”

Marinette paused at that. She hadn’t considered that. Another grandfather figure. Another grandfather that didn’t want anything to do with her. Sure now Grand-père Roland loved her but for the first fifteen years, he’d known about her and didn’t care. Maybe it was her. It had to be her right? Two grandparents, that isn’t coincidence. That’s a pattern and the only commonality was her. She pursed her lips together to focus on something other than the tears welling up behind her eyes. “Sounds like the kind of person who definitely would have known about me.”

Jason’s eyes widened. “I… don’t know the answer to that,” he answered slowly.

Marinette nodded, slowly going numb. “So, what I’m getting from this so far is I have a another grandfather-type figure that knew about me and didn’t feel any kind of interest in me and a ton of people that my father decided were worthy of his love and affection when I wasn’t. So it isn’t that my father didn’t want to be a father, just that he didn’t want to be my father.”

“That isn’t…” Jason started. This was going down the wrong path. He was trying to show her he had her back, not remind her about the pain. But instead, now Marinette was getting hurt, remembering the pain. She’d lost her sass and impertinence and now was moving toward hurt. And she was blaming Alfred. Alfred was one of the only good things about being a Wayne!

��Jason! I think it’s time for you to go home. Now!” Bruce roared.

Marinette contemplated Bruce coldly, numbness consuming her fears and insecurities and morphing into cold, analytic contemplation. He was blaming Jason. Her frustration wasn’t because of Jason or anything he said. Her pain wasn’t because of Jason, it was because of him, because of his decisions. And instead of taking responsibility for it, he was blaming Jason.

Jason blinked a few times, no longer certain of his role in this interaction. He looked back and forth between Marinette and Bruce, noting Marinette’s hardening features. She was getting ready for a fight. He could see it developing, but he wasn’t at all sure Bruce did. He held up his hands in surrender and sat back down calmly. “I promised I wouldn’t leave unless Pixie asked me to. I intend to keep my promise to her,” he said calmly.

Bruce glared at him again and faced back to Marinette, a fake smile plastered on. “As I was saying. I’d like a chance to get to know you, if you would let me.”

“And how many members of the press did you want to be there when you do?” she inquired sharply.

Bruce sighed and rubbed his forehead. “That’s not fair.”

Marinette’s mouth dropped and she shook her head at him incredulously. “Wow. Way to pull the rich, white guy entitlement card. ‘I know everything about this situation has been unbelievably unfair to you, but now I’m being inconvenienced in the mildest way possible and I don’t like it,’” she mocked. She rocked back on her heels and narrowed her eyes at him. “Rest assured M. Wayne, I do not intend to speak out against you. Your reputation will not be harmed by me. Tell the press whatever you want. I won’t contradict you. You can relax.”

“Marinette…” he started, unsure of where to go. Everything she had said was so far from the truth, he didn’t know where to start. Her view of the situation was so skewed, he didn’t know how to put it back on kilter. His shoulders sagged in defeat. “This has nothing to do with the press. I had put plans in motion to get in contact with you before any of this started. Mr. Fox will confirm that for you if you don’t trust me. You seem like quite an impressive young lady and I would like to get to know you better, if you’ll give me the chance.”

His tone was contrite and quiet, but Marinette wasn’t done being upset yet. She wasn’t ready to move on and let go of the anger. “And if I wasn’t, you would continue to ignore me? If I was a problem child, if I had social issues, if I couldn’t find a job, you’d continue to treat me like I never existed? I’ve finally done enough to gain your attention. Oh thank you so much for letting me know.”

“That isn’t what I said,” Bruce rushed to assure her. “I meant to compliment you not say you had to earn my attention.”

Marinette pursed her lips and looked over to Jason. He was looking back at her with sympathetic, concerned eyes. She let out a long sigh and looked away from them both. “Look, I meant what I told the press earlier. I had no intention of you seeing me at the gala. I had no intention of anyone finding out about me. I didn’t even know there was anything to find out when I made the plan to come here. And I have no expectation of anything about our relationship changing.”

Bruce perked up slightly, but focused on keeping his body language the same, so she wouldn’t see the difference. That was an opening; expectation instead of intention. It wasn’t that she intended not to change it, it’s that she didn’t expect it. “I do,” he assured her, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice, keeping it calm and even. “I would like to change our relationship. I would like the chance to explain and try to start to make it up to you. If you would like to try.

“If you’re open to it, I can extend your reservation until you are ready to move on, or if you would prefer, you are more than welcome to stay at the manor. I would love to have you stay with us but I understand that may be overwhelming. Or, WE has have some flats available, with multiple bedrooms. You and your friends could stay there for a while. Your friend is going to need a place to stay while he looks for an apartment, right?

“I’ll leave the choice to you. Whether we pursue a relationship, if you stay, where you stay; they’re all your choice. Here,” he handed her a paper with several numbers hand written on it. “These are my numbers; office, home office, cell phone, manor. You can use any of them to contact me.”

Marinette took the paper impassively. She squeezed her other hand in an effort to keep the tremble from being too obvious. “Thank you, M. Wayne. I will consider your words.”

Bruce nodded, letting the very formal use of his name wash away. This was still progress. This was still movement in the right direction, even if it wasn’t as much as he would want. He knew it could take a long time. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fix this today. “Thank you, Marinette. That’s all I can ask for. And I’m sorry for ambushing you here. I tried to call and text you all yesterday to set up a time to talk in person so you could prepare but it seems like your phone was off.”

He let out a small breath seeing her eyes widen at his admission. That had to be a good sign. Maybe he actually said the right thing for once. He nodded to her and left her to think, hoping Jason would urge her to call. He seemed to want a relationship with her as well. Hopefully, he would realize this was the best way to get that.

Jason sighed and looked up at her as soon as the door closed behind Bruce. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not. It’s… it’s a lot. I think I want to be alone,” Marinette said absently staring at the numbers in her hand.

Jason nodded. “It is. I understand. If you want to talk, at all, about anything. About where to drink in town, best burger, anything, give me a call.” He gently took the paper Bruce had handed her out of hand, letting her decide if she gave it to him or not. When she let go, he put his number on it as well. “I only have one number, but now you have it.”

Marinette nodded at him. “Thank you, Jason.”

Jason hesitated briefly. “For what it’s worth, if you decide to stay you should take him up on the flat. The hotel is stupid expensive and WE offers the flat to visiting collaborators all the time, so it’s not like it’s all that special… if you want to avoid being treated special.”

Marinette nodded at his words, barely taking them in as her mind tried to fight the numbing process. Jason watched her tentatively. “You look like a hugger,” he said uncertainly. “Did you… do you want a, um, a hug?”

Marinette looked over at him and blinked a few times, not sure how to take his words, partly because he seemed unsure of them himself, but partly because things were having a harder time permeating her brain right now. Jason took her curious look as doubt. “Oh come on. It’s fine. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. Trust me. I tell Dick to fuck off enough when he tries to hug me. I have no problem saying no to hugs I don’t want. I’m offering because I mean it.”

Marinette blinked a few more times but finally nodded vacantly. Jason pulled her into a warm, comforting hug. After a few moments he pulled away. “It will all be okay. No matter what you decide, it will all be okay. And no matter what you decide, I’m here. Nobody’s replacing you as my sister. So get ready for some completely inappropriate Christmas presents this year.”

Marinette smiled absently at his joke, her eyes never meeting his. “Thanks, Jason.” She leaned against the door after she closed it behind him and slid down it, staring blankly at nothing. The room felt colder than it was before, but she couldn’t manage to care enough to get up and get a blanket. She thought there might have been ambient noise going on around her but none of it registered. Nothing registered. Not the numbing sensation that was rapidly overtaking her body from her fingers and toes up to her head until she stopped feeling anything. Not even the point she was staring at. She didn’t know how long she stared at the nothingness before black overtook her vision and she passed out.

Chapter 8

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saintshigaraki · 3 years

Text

ONE DAY WE’LL REVEAL THE TRUTH (THAT ONE WILL DIE BEFORE HE GETS THERE)

title: youth by daughter

pairing: dabi x f!reader

words: 1.7k

excerpt: But what is rage, you’d ask him, if not one of the many faces of grief?

a/n: dabi my beloved (derogatory). this fic is my love letter to parentheses.

tags: angst, toxic relationships, explicit s*xual content, light choking, dabi is a bastard but he is a needy bastard

in case you’d rather read it on ao3!

MDNI

He’s just outside the door. He hasn’t made a sound, but you know he’s there. You can feel it; in your blood, in your bones, in your marrow.

(You’ve always been able to feel him, monstrous and cruel beneath your skin. An itch. An awful taunting itch. You’ve wanted him out since he first stuck his claws in you and buried himself deep, but he’s near impossible to shake. He won’t leave until he’s hollowed you out, until your flesh is no longer your own, until all that’s left of you is him. Until all that’s there, is what he believes there should be.

He’s a self-important bastard like that.)

When he finally decides to open the door, he does so with a slam. It would’ve made you jump if you hadn’t been so focused on the skyline. Tracing the buildings, looking for stars you know you won’t be able to see. They get swallowed up, this deep in the city. Drowned out by light.

(When you were a child, you didn’t quite understand how stars could vanish in the night. Weren’t they the brightest things in the universe? Burning and brilliant, even light years away?

You understand it better now. How mankind has this nasty habit of ruining, of polluting, of blotting out things of wonder and then desperately trying to remake it in our own image.

It’s never as beautiful as what was, but it’s far too late for us to admit defeat now.)

He’s mad, burning up with fury. You can feel the heat of it, cutting straight through the heavy chill of the night air. It’s stifling, your balcony so small that he’s practically breathing down your neck with how close he is. Accompanying his presence, always, is the faint smell of burnt flesh he can never quite mask, no matter the amount of cheap aftershave he tries to drown himself in.

He’d texted you, and you’d ignored him. For a week, you’ve ignored him and if there’s one thing Dabi hates, it’s when he gets ignored.

He’s the one that ignores you, it should never be the other way around.

You know that, of course. You know all his little unwritten rules.

(Don’t ignore him is at the top of the list. Except, of course, during those nights when he thinks you’re asleep and he clings to you like a child, his tears burning where they touch your skin. Even his grief, you can’t help but think, is scorching.

On those nights, you’ve found it’s best to stay quiet. He wields his grief like rage and you’d rather not be caught in the crossfire.)

He’s waiting for you to talk, to stumble over your words, make some sort of vague attempt at an apology. It’s what you would usually do after you’ve broken one of his rules.

But you say nothing, content to sit in the too-heavy silence. You’re tired. Of him. Of whatever it is you two have been doing. It’s the same stupid story, the same vicious cycle. A snake cursed to eat its own tail.

He’s using you. He has been for a long while now. If you’re being perfectly honest with yourself, he most likely has been since the beginning. And God, it’s exhausting work, being used.

Although, really, you’re not all that much better than he is. In the beginning, you were with him purely because he fascinated you. All his grief laid bare, and so vulnerable. So obvious and painful. Undeniable in its brutality.

(Rage, he’d say, it’s righteous rage, not grief.

But what is rage, you’d ask him, if not one of the many faces of grief?)

It didn’t take long for you to realize he’s chasing something. And it took you even less time to realize that whatever he’s after, is probably going to kill him one day.

(You wonder if he knows he’s chasing his own death. You wonder if he’d care at all.

He reminds you of Eve, eating the forbidden fruit. You think she’d take a bite of the apple, again and again and again if ever given the choice, even knowing the consequences. Even with intimate knowledge of the suffering to come. How could she not? How could any of us hold our fate in the palm of our hands and choose not to sink our teeth into it?)

He’s growing impatient beside you, burning up with it. If he touched you, you’re sure he’d melt your flesh straight to the hollow bone.

But you don’t break. Just once, you want him to fall apart first. Just once, you want him desperate.

(He’s always been so good at making you desperate, with a hand around your neck, just tight enough to leave you gasping for air, your back to his chest and his staples drawing blood, as he pounds into you so hard all you could do is dig your nails into his arm.

His lips are right by your ear, you’re mine, he says. You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine.

And God, with his cock hitting all the right spots in your cunt you’d believe it. You’d believe anything he’d said to you as long he just kept going.

Say it, he hisses, say you’re mine.

You don’t answer him right away, mostly because you can’t, not with the way he’s fucking you. You can’t catch your breath enough to form a sound, you can’t get your bearings enough to collect a single thought that isn’t Dabi Dabi Dabi.

Annoyed at your lack of answer, he brings a searing thumb down to your overstimulated clit. You keen, arching, desperately trying to get away from the sensation that at this point is more pain than pleasure.

Say it, he says again, there’s a strange sort of edge to it. Looking back you think it might’ve been desperation. Say it.

When he presses down just a little harder, you finally crack.

Yours, you gasp. I’m yours. Yours. Yours. Yours.

He laughs, so deep in his chest that you feel it in your own.

It echoes in your head for weeks afterward.)

“What,” he grounds out, low and furious, “the fuck.”

It’s not a question.

You turn towards him, at last. Though you can hardly see him, surrounded by shadows. There are glints of his piercings in the polluted light, a gleaming flash as he runs his tongue along with his teeth. But it’s his eyes that you lock on. Bright and a brilliant blue. Glowing and monstrous in the dark.

(You’re reminded, once again, of the stars. Burning and burning and burning.)

With no preamble, you say, “I think I love you.”

The air around you quiets. Like the city itself is holding it’s breath.

It’s not a sweet confession under the moonlight. In the week since you came to the realization, it’s already started to fester, to rot straight through your bones.

It’s a curse more than anything. You love a man whose chasing his own death. You love a ghost. Or, you suppose, a ghost in the making.

Before you can say anything else (though really, what else is there to say) he cuts in sharply, meanly, “No, you don’t.”

You can’t help but tilt your head at that. You don’t really know what to say. You don’t know if you’re supposed to say anything. His lips are pulled back, teeth bared, he’s gleaming and sharp, pulled so taught with tension you wonder how he’s even breathing. He reminds you, vividly, of a cornered animal. A scared one. Though he’s trying to mask it with annoyance, with a type of anger that toes the line of fury.

He’s always doing that. Masking his fear with rage. Masking his grief with rage. Hiding any part of himself that might be perceived as weak, as soft, as vulnerable, under the guise of rage.

You can’t imagine that it’s anything less than exhausting.

Though you have to admit, you didn’t expect this response. You didn’t expect fear. You thought he’d be unbearably smug about it. Proud of himself for finally sinking his teeth into your heart. Ready to chew you up and spit you back out. You were ready for him to move on.

You didn’t expect him to deny it.

(He could be right, though you doubt he is.

You wonder what it means to love, you wonder how you’re supposed to love. You wonder if you can only love someone if you’ve seen the cruelest parts of them first.

You suppose if that’s the case, then he might be right.

You’ve never actually been able to force yourself to look up what exactly he’s wanted for. What exactly it is he’s done.

Mostly because you’re afraid that even if you knew every last gory detail, it wouldn’t be enough to make you walk away. And how would you be able to look at yourself in the mirror, after that? Knowing exactly who you let share your bed? who cried scorching hot tears into your shoulder?

Ignorance is bliss, they say. In your case, it could very well be your only hope for salvation.

But, you don’t really think there’s a set way a person is supposed to love. It’s what makes it so terrifying. It’s an unknown. And it’s so hard to not fear the unknown.)

“Dabi-” you start.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he spits out. Eyes flashing, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

You want to laugh at the absurdity of it all, of him trying to tell you what you do and do not feel, but you think he’d turn you to ashes for the slight. His pride has always been so easily shaken.

“Dabi-” you try again.

But he’s two steps ahead of you. He always is.

He’s already turned around, hiding his face from view, opening the door. And you don’t stop him. You don’t see why you should.

You can’t shake him from the path he’s on. You don’t think anyone can, really.

Grief is all he has, it’s all he’s let himself have. It’s fundamental to him now. It’s all he is. And you’re sure he believes whatever he’s chasing is going to fill the hollow void it’s made of him.

It won’t. You’re sure of that, at least, because even if he does succeed, what will he be left with then?

You don’t say any of that to him, because you’re not his fucking therapist. And because you’re not so sure he wouldn’t kill you for it.

It’s anticlimactic, watching him disappear into your darkened apartment.

But all you can think about when you hear the click of the front door closing behind him is how honest his fear was, almost childlike. Remnants of a poor, grief-stricken boy.

What a monster it’s made of him.

a/n part two:

thinking about adrianne kalfopoulou’s ‘grief will keep you reaching back / for what is not there.’

i could not tell you why this took me over two weeks to write. i had a lot of fun with it though. dabi my beloved. go to therapy please. also i know dabi can’t cry but....let me have this.

#bnha x reader #dabi x reader #bnha smut #dabi smut #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #dabi imagine #bnha x you #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #bnha x y/n #bnha imagine #vicwrites #vicwritesbnha #vic.thirsts

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katsukikiss · 3 years

Text

I FUCKIN HATE YOU

CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP // MINORS DNI // EREN X F!READER

Warnings: NSFW 18+, fingering, unprotected sex, alcohol use, noncon touching(ish), hate fucking?, creampie m, idk what else

AN: This is a collab for @bordemm bunny’s rager! It had to fit the theme/vibe of a song and mine was ‘IFHY’ by Tyler the Creator! Give it a listen when you’re about halfway through!

Big thanks to @morelikebaku-no for beta reading this for me!

WC: 5.2K

Masterlist

How did you two get to this point? Why did you hate each other? He would always shove you into walls when you got too close to him and you’d slap him across the arm in retaliation. He would mock how eager you were to please and achieve on missions, and you’d scoff at his selfishness. You threw insults and jabs back and forth whenever you two were near, which wasn’t too often anymore. Although, you weren’t the one who started this all. He used to be so nice, asking you if you needed help, giving you his food, riding your horses side by side. You were both so fond of one another, a bond you had shared since childhood. You thought you might’ve even loved him, but something snapped in Eren one day. You couldn’t understand why he changed so much after that day.

Eren remembered the day perfectly. You both got ready that morning before you set off for what would be a horrible evening. Your squad had a relatively easy mission to complete, but something felt off to you. Eren rested a hand on your shoulder, reassuring you that everything would be okay, and that he’d protect you. He always stuck close to you on these missions, fearing that he’d lose you like he lost everyone else.

You set off on horseback together. You were a skilled cadet, well seasoned in using your ODM gear. Eren hated when you’d get cocky and push yourself too far, but thats why he stuck so close, but not this time. Levi sent you and Jean forward in a group of two, despite Erens pleas to be paired up with you. You shot him a reassuring smile before you and Jean pushed forward and to the right. Eren had to stay in the center with Levi and Armin, his eyes trailing off to watch you descend further away from him.

You and Jean easily took out five abnormals, you killing three and him taking out the other two. You were in a state of euphoria, zipping through the trees. Jean admired your strength and confidence, but they all still saw you as someone that needed protecting, and it royally pissed you off. You slung off to the left, Jean quickly losing sight of you.

“Y/N! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING?!” he howled out to you. He swiftly maneuvered around to try and follow you. Then he heard you scream.

Your blood curdling screams echoed through the forest. ‘T-Thats y/n’ Eren thought to himself.

“EREN WAIT!” Armin loudly pleaded, but Eren was gone, slashing his way through the trees to where your voice came from. Rage was radiating through his body, how could Jean have lost you, let you get hurt. He swore he was going to beat him half to death for letting something happen to you. He moved at an inhuman speed, frantically looking around for where you might be. Then he saw a 15 meter titan, with a tight grasp on you and your neck. Blood was dripping from your nose and lips, you lacked the ability to scream anymore.

Without thinking, Eren transformed. It was dangerous for him to go into his titan form, with you so close and vulnerable, but his body acted on its own will. He lunged at the titan, his mouth clamping hard onto the arm in which you were trapped in. The arm came tumbling to the ground, with you hurdling down with it. Eren was too blinded by rage that he failed to realize you were about to splatter on the ground. He continued to thrash at the titan that once held you. You looked down and your eyes filled with fear. Why wasn't he going to catch you? Suddenly you heard quick sipping noises and you were caught by Jean. He glanced down at you nervously, his breath heaving. He perched up onto a large branch and sat you down against the trunk of the tree.

“Oh my god y/n are you okay?!” he asked in a panicky breath, cupping your face in his calloused hands. You shook as you looked over his shoulder to see Eren still on a rampage, but now he was running towards you two. You lifted a quivering finger to point to him, your throat bruised and unable to form words, and Jean quickly turned his head. A large hand was coming down at you two. Jean scooped you up and slung the two of you away as the branch snapped. Eren let out a shrieking scream that sent shivers down both of your spines. Jean never let up his tight grasp on you as he navigated his way through the forest, trying to get as far away as possible. Eren hadn’t lost control in so long, and now he was trying to kill you.

You got back to the rest of the squad, and Jean explained what had happened. Armin, Mikasa and Levi all went back into the forest to find Eren. He was in a clearing, sticking out of the nape of his now disintegrating titan form, sobbing uncontrollably. They approached him with caution. He hysterically screamed at them, “I'M A MONSTER, I ALMOST KILLED HER!”

You had spent three months in the infirmary, healing from the broken arm and bruised windpipe you had suffered. Everyone came to visit you regularly, except Eren. He never came by to see you, and shuddered when Armin finally recommended that he should.

“I dont want to fucking see her” he muttered under his breath. Armin stopped speaking, not wanting to push his friend over the edge again. You were finally strong enough to go back to your own room, eat in the dining halls, and train. Much to your dismay, Levi wasn’t going to put you back on missions for awhile.

Your first day back in the dining hall, everyone beamed a smile at you.

“Hey y/n! Why dont you come sit over here?” Jean shouted to you. You smiled and looked away, opting for your usual table instead. You made your way to Armin, Mikasa and Eren with your tray. You plopped your tray down and scooted your way over to Eren. His head was low until you sat down. He looked up at you with anger in his eyes.

He was never angry at you, but at himself. He feared being anywhere near you. You almost died at his hands and he could never forgive himself for that. You were so sweet, never once holding a grudge for what happened that day. He hated how forgiving you were, it made it all so much harder. He made a promise to himself that he needed to stay away from you, make you hate him if it meant you’d be safe.

“Long time no see Eren!” you exclaimed. Mikasa and Armin both looked at Eren anxiously. He slammed his fist on the table, standing up and walking away.

“What's his problem?” you asked the other two who were looking at you with doe eyed expressions.

“Not sure, but I think it's best if you keep your distance for a little okay y/n?” Armin said in an apologetic tone. He could see the pain and worry twist its way into your face. ‘What did I do wrong?’ you asked yourself. Tears flooded down your face as you ran out of the dining hall back into your room. You told yourself this wouldn’t last long and things would be back to normal but you were so wrong.

Six months later and now you and Eren thoroughly hated one another. You couldn’t take his insults and cold shoulder anymore so you threw it back at him, making the divide between you two grow larger with every passing day. You let your feelings from before the mission drift away and all you were left with was resentment and anger. You never understood why he turned so cold but you didn’t care to figure it out anymore, he never wanted to be around you and that was it. But little did you know, someone else had really convinced him to stay away from you. He wanted to try and talk to you one day but Mikasa coerced him out of it, telling him that it would make things worse and that he would only end up hurting you again. He believed her and vowed to stay away from you.

It was a crisp Saturday evening. The regiment was going to be drinking and celebrating a successful mission outside together later that night, even Levi and Erwin would be attending. You made your way over to Sasha’s room to talk and get ready. It was nice to finally have a day to let loose and have fun. You and Sasha decided to take some sheers to old shirts and create sexy twist tops; neither of you had attire for a night out like this. You took an old black t-shirt of Erens that he had given to you one night, looking at it you felt a pang in your heart, before you shook it away and began to cut. You twisted it in the middle, giving your breasts little fabric hammocks to rest in. You pulled the straps up and over your shoulder. You shoved yourself into some high waisted jeans before heading out with Sasha.

It was a lively sight. People hugging and laughing, ignoring the horrible world they lived in for a while. Connie waved you and Sasha over to him and Jean who were seated around a high table. You jumped up onto a stool between the two boys and across from your friend. Jean had a pitcher of beer on the table and four glasses for you all. You finished three pitchers all together in the matter of 30 minutes, talking and cracking jokes the whole time.

You looked around and spotted Armin red faced, blabbering off to Commander Erwin, whose face was also flushed red from the alcohol he had consumed. It was a pleasant surprise that made you smile, seeing the two blonde men letting loose for a bit. Then you saw Eren and Mikasa, sitting at a table together getting belligerently drunk. You were never jealous of her, he always told you she was like a sister to him, but then you shook your head. ‘What? Why would I even be jealous anyway…’ you looked away from the pair, cursing at yourself for even feeling that way. ‘He hates you, you hate him’ you reminded yourself.

Your attention was snapped back when Connie placed four shots onto the table. You were no stranger to drinking, you actually really enjoyed it; maybe too much. You all nodded, tapping your shots down on the table, bringing them up, clanging them all together, then slamming them back onto the table before throwing the clear alcohol back into your mouths. Sasha groaned at the foul taste, begging Connie to go get some food with her to wash it out of her mouth. They headed off towards a table of food, leaving you and Jean alone. You looked back over at Eren, but he and Mikasa were both gone. Your mind started racing, but you kept your calm on the outside. You were pretty drunk at this point, vision a bit distorted, but your words still came out presentable. Jean laughed, he watched you sway in your seat before gripping tightly onto the table almost falling.

“You alright pretty girl?” Jean asked in a flirty voice. He was always super kind to you, especially after the accident, but he also learned not to baby you anymore after that. Sure, he was mad you ran off on your own, but he understood why you did that in the moment, you felt like you needed to prove something. You didn’t mind him taking a coy tone with you tonight.

“Oh yeahh don't worry about me” you said, dragging your words a bit in a teasing voice. You winked at him and he blushed. You were typically sarcastic when Jean flirted with you but not now. He was cute, maybe not ideal but you can’t be that picky when you weren’t dealt a great hand in the Scouts. He slid his hand across the table and grabbed onto yours gently. You looked up at him with a wide eyed, innocent look on your face. You looked to the side to see if Eren came back around, but to your frustration he was still nowhere to be found. You looked back at Jean.

“You know, I’ve always thought you were so beautiful y/n” he confesses, his grip on your hand tightening. You probably would have blushed under normal circumstances, but your drunken state left you smirking at him with an insatiable gleam in your eyes.

“So why don’t we…” your voice trailing off, you nodded your head to the side, signaling to Jean that you wanted to ditch the party and be alone. His entire face flushed red and his pupils dilated. He was so eager to finally have you to himself. He stood up briskly as did you. He held onto your hand, walking forward without saying a word to you. You started to feel a bit intimidated by the tall handsome man as he led you away from the crowd and into the dark of the night. But someone was watching you two, never stopped watching.

He pushed you up against the stables and began ravenously kissing at your neck and squeezing at your breast. Being touched deprived and drunk made you moan at his every touch.

“You look fucking incredible in this shirt” he huffed out. His lips came back to yours, shoving his tongue into your mouth. He started to move his hand lower and lower. You started to get nervous, you didn’t want to go this far, you weren’t ready to. You grabbed at his arm and whimpered out, “I-I don’t wanna do that right now, okay?” Jean kept moving his hands down. You weren’t sure if maybe he didn’t hear you or was too drunk or was just flat out ignoring you. Then his hand was forcefully pulled out of your pants as he fell backwards into the ground.

“Get the fuck off of her and get out of here. Now” Eren demanded in a fierce tone. He was standing above Jean, looking down at him. Any haziness you had in your head was washed away when you saw the scene unfold in front of you. Jean scrambled to get to his feet before looking Eren right in the eye.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he challenged. Eren was seething with anger. They both burned holes into each other's eyes. You didn’t want to see anyone get hurt because of you, so you spoke up.

“Jean, it's okay, I'm okay, I’ll catch up with you later okay?” you tried to reassure him. He looked at you confused then back at Eren with a grimace before turning away from the two of you.

“Alright whatever” he groaned, disappointed. You looked at the man in front of you for a second, before you lazily lunged at him with a fist. You were so angry and emotional when you saw him leave. Your coordination still wasn’t functioning at its best, he easily dodged and grabbed your wrist.

“What the fuck were you doing back here? Was he trying to..?” he manically questioned before letting go of his grasp on your arm. You were surprised to see how riled up he was over seeing you with Jean. You decided to push your luck.

“Why do you care Eren? And yeah, we were going to fuck until you came and ruined it” you spat at him.

“I heard you y/n, and I saw him ignore you. Don't play tough when I know you aren’t” he hissed back at you.

“What is wrong with you? Why were you watching us, you freak? Weren’t you off fucking Mikasa?” you sneered at him. You were embarrassed that he caught you lying, but even more embarrassed that he watched Jean touch all over you.

“You should be grateful I was here, who knows what we would’ve done” he answered, ignoring your comment about Mikasa. It gave him pleasure knowing you still cared a bit, that maybe you were even jealous.

“Grateful? I have no reason to be thanking you, I can handle myself just fine now leave me alone” you said, shoving your way past him. He grabbed your arm and yanked you back.

“What the fuck Eren. Get off of me…don’t you have another girl to harass?” you scoffed at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he stated in a shadowy tone.

“Don’t play dumb, you and Mikasa left together”

“We didn’t..but why do you care hm?” he asked, slightly smirking. He was lying, but he didn’t want you to know that just yet.

“I don’t give a shit, fuck whoever you want but don’t ruin my sex life too”

“I actually never left the party”

“Yes you did”

“Maybe you didn’t see me, but I was there, watching you,” he confessed.

“Eren what the fuck” you said, afflicted by what he had just said. Over the last year he spent everyday avoiding you, your gaze, your touch, and when you were around he was nothing short of evil to you. But here he was, hands on your wrists, having the longest conversation you two had ever had since the mission. You felt your emotions being pulled in every direction. ‘He still cares. He hates you. He’s an asshole. Does he miss you?’ You couldn’t figure out what to think, but one thing you knew was that you couldn’t forgive him for the way he had treated you.

“I don’t know why you were watching over me, or why you’re even talking to me right now, but I want to leave. I don’t want anything to do with you” you stammered. It wasn’t entirely true. You missed him so much, but that was the old him. You don’t even know who you’re looking at anymore.

“Y/n, I know that isn’t true” he said, inching closer to you. You could smell alcohol on his breath and the scent made you dizzy. You backed up, trying to pull your hands from his grip but it was of no use. Your back was up against the wood of the stables.

“I've missed you so much, you have no idea” he remarked, with a hint of sadness in his voice. You looked up at Eren, finally locking eyes with him. You hadn’t looked him in the eyes in so long. Despite everything, his eyes were the same as you remembered. They looked at you sympathetically, with love and tenderness, the way he used to. However, your fleeting moment of empathy turned quickly back into anger

“How could you?! How could you just cut me out of your life, treat me like a fucking stranger? And you have the audacity to pull this little stunt! ” you screamed at him, hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

“I-Im sorry, I-“ he was cut off by your hand sharply smacking him across the face. He stumbled back and away from you.

“Get the fuck away from me. You don’t get to just walk back into my life, no, fuck that and fuck you” you refuted. Your reply hit him harder than the slap. He couldn’t let you go, never again. The brief compassion he had was gone. He was done trying to be gentle, you had awakened something that had lied dormant for months. He spent so long trying to stay away from you, his thoughts tormenting him, but you were different now. He was going to go easy on you, slowly open up to you to see if you could accept him into your life again, but it seemed he couldn’t take that approach anymore. He slammed you back into the side of the stable, trapping your arms behind your back and gripped your jaw with one large hand.

“I did that all for you. You don’t know how hard it was for me to be mean to you, to stay away from you. But here you are, and I'm not going to hold back anymore” he revealed with a low predatory voice, sending an aching chill to your core. He slipped his free hand under your little makeshift shirt and ferociously clutched at your breast. He aggressively pressed his lips against yours, his heart fluttering as he finally felt your soft pretty lips against his own. A low whine vibrated in your throat. You wanted to be stronger, to push him away from you but your resolve crumbled.

“I don’t want to see you around Jean or any other guy here, do you understand me?” Eren murmured, his throat rasping with the low tone he took.

‘Excuse me, what did he just say?’ You couldn’t just take orders from him, not after all he put you through. You snapped out of the trance he had you under. You looked at him with scalding eyes and spit onto his face. It was risky, but you weren’t thinking straight. Again, you were conflicted between screaming at him or accepting him, hating him or loving him. He looked down at the dirt and slowly dragged his hand across his face, wiping your saliva from his cheek. He creeped his head back up, his vile look tormenting you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are Eren? Trying to tell me what to do with my body? Fuck off” you hissed back at him. You tried to move away from him but his hand was encasing your fragile throat.

“I know you miss me baby, I know you want to let me back in, but you have too much pride, you were always too stubborn. Let me show you what you’re missing” he muttered. You wanted him to be wrong but he was so right. You desperately wanted to forgive him and bring everything back to the way it used to be. His free hand unzipped your tight jeans and tugged them down to the ground. His thick digits started to rub against your folds through your pink lace panties. His other hand moved from your neck to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back. He bit and sucked at the tender flesh of your neck, leaving little territorial marks all over you. Your lips parted to let out soft mewls. The last few months suddenly flashed before you, bringing anger back to the forefront of your mind.

“I h-hate you!” you screamed. Despite enjoying the way he was making you feel, you still had so much to let out.

“Don’t say that” he growled. His hands were under the fabric of your panties now, two fingers pumping in and out of you. His thumb reached around to swirl erotic circles on your sensitive nub.

“I mean it” you softly moaned out.

“No babygirl, you don’t. You can’t lie to me” He cooed into your ear. His fingers pace inside you abruptly quickened causing you to let out a pleasurable cry. Something about this new Eren was making your mind go crazy, he had an intense hunger for you and a depraved way of fulfilling it.

“Come back to me y/n, let's start over” he groaned into your ear, and you had a feeling he wasn’t suggesting that, but rather demanding. He tried to reach for your hand.

He desperately wanted you to touch him. You held your arms behind your back the entire time, by choice. You didn’t want to make him feel good, you didn’t want to feel his body, his face, his hair, or you knew you’d completely come undone.

“N-no Eren” you stammered. You were pushing his buttons, seeing how far you could go, how much he could take. He was starting to get angrier, revealing his deep sinful nature. He flicked his two fingers up, hitting your spongy spot every time they prodded back into you. His talented digits made your chest rise and fall quickly, letting short strained breaths and cries out.

“Wrong answer. You don’t get a choice. You will be mine” he demanded. Just as these words left his mouth your walls began to involuntarily clench around his fingers, your juices releasing all over them. You scraped your nails into the wood behind you, desperately trying to offer yourself some comfort. His possessive words should be scaring you, making you uncomfortable, but they only make you long for him more. Something about his controlling nature was truly intoxicating.

“I knew it, you do miss me, don’t you babygirl? I knew I should’ve done this earlier” he insinuated, a shameless smile creeping up on his face. He pulled his fingers out of your sobbing hole and brought them up to his mouth. He lolled his tongue out and slowly dragged his fingers down, savoring your sweet taste. You watched him in the lewd act, but thought about his words for a moment. ‘I knew I should’ve done this earlier’ you want to ask him what he meant but before you could speak his mouth was on yours, lips meeting once again. He gave you a wet kiss before pulling away to look at you. He pet your face and swept your wet strands of hair off your sweating forehead. Even all hot and messy, you still looked so adorable to him.

“Please baby, I can’t take it anymore. Put your arms around me” he begged. You gave the slightest nod of disapproval, pissing him off again.

“When I try to ask nicely you refuse. What is it with you?” he scowled at you. He yanked your arms from behind your back, making you yelp. He put them on his shoulders and pressed his body flush to yours. You stopped trying to fight his advances, wrapping one hand behind his neck and the other snaked through his hair.

His clothed bulge was firmly pressed against your exposed cunt. You began to buck your hips forward into him, forcing a low moan to escape his lips. He placed his hands on your thighs and hoisted them up and around his waist. You continued to kiss and explore each other's mouths with your tongues. You twirled yours around his, as if they were always meant to dance with one another.

He picked up your pants and carried you a few over to a shed. He kicked the door open, removed a hand from your ass to pull a light on. You looked and saw an old steel table with miscellaneous tools and blueprints all over it. Eren used a hand to shove everything to the side and sat you down. He stood between your legs, your neck angled painfully high to kiss the man towering above you. His hands moved down to his crotch as he meticulously unbuttoned his slacks. His throbbing member sprung from his boxers as he lowered them down his legs. Your mind was racing as you thought about what was actually happening. He pressed his cock against your needy hot cunt, sweeping through your puffy lips with it. All inhibition left your body from the touch. You pulled him close to you, the heat radiating between your legs.

“Fuck me Eren, please” you begged him. Your words made his blood hot.

“About time” he groaned. He aligned his cock with your tight entrance. He firmly grabbed your ass cheeks as he slowly advanced himself into your sobbing cunt. Your walls clung onto his swollen tip. He bucked his hips before completing bottoming out inside of you, gently grazing your cervix. His thrusts turned into brutal ramming, the entire table shaking with ever hard pound into you. Your lower stomach was bulging with every assault, your head hanging back from the feeling.

“Do you still hate me now?” he spat at you. His eyes transfixed on your bouncing tits. You couldn’t think straight, the pleasure of his cock hitting you in all the right places scrambled your brain.

“N-No no Eren fu-uck just fuck me, faster please!” you squealed out. He was already savagely slamming into you, but he answered your calls and quickened his pace. He grabbed you by the neck, forcing your head forward to look into his eyes.

“Tell me, tell me you’re mine” he whined into your ear. His eyes looked primal, as if he would devour you if you didn’t answer him correctly. You could tell he was close, his thrusts were getting sloppier and all he could do was let out husky breaths and little moans.

“Ah fuck I’m all yours Eren!” you cried out.

“ONLY mine”

“Y-yess ONLY yours”

Your legs wrapped around him as your orgasm shocked your entire body. You gripped his dark locks and looked up to see Eren’s eyes looking at yours, admiring the way your face contorted with pleasure. His knees buckled as his cock twitched inside you, releasing his warm thick cum all over your walls. He slowly dragged himself out of you, huffing heavy breaths out. Your legs fell down to dangle off the side of the table again. You rested your head onto his chest and he wrapped his arms around you, placing his head on top of yours. You both laid there, chests heaving in unison. You abruptly pulled away, startling him, and you looked up.

“Why d-did you leave me Eren?” you asked, tears welling up in your solemn eyes. He looked to the side, saddened by the question, and trying to find the right words.

“Because, I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought you’d be better off away from me after the mission and I-“

“Why would I be better off that way? You hurt me even more by doing that…”

“I nearly killed you y/n! I almost lost you, and everyone made me feel like I would be a danger to you” he whispered. Anguish and hurt flooded his voice when he spoke to you. The once domineering man was crumbling as he gave his confession to you.

“Why did you wait so long? Why now?” you said, pulling aggressively on his shirt. You recalled him saying he wanted ‘to do this sooner’ but never got to ask about it. He rubbed the back of his neck before looking down at you.

“I…well…Mikasa told me to stay away from you too…and I did leave the party before with her..but only for a little and that’s when I realized her intentions…but I came right back to find you and talk to you after that” he said, searching your face for a hint of how you were feeling. Your expression was blank, eyes were now dried and void of emotion. You jumped off the table and started putting your pants on. Eren started to grow worried as you neared the door.

“Y/n? Where do you think you’re going?”

“To find Mikasa”

#bunnys rager #eren x you #eren smut #attack on titan eren #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #jean kirschstein #eren jaeger

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brian-bloody-may · 3 years

Note

hi, love!! may i please request something with bri? enemies to lovers would be spectacular, but anything fluffy on your mind will do!! thank you so much 🥺🥺🥺

Hi! You’re my first ask :D I absolutely adore the enemies to lovers trope, though I’ve never actually written a fic using it! It's a little different however than the usual trope so keep that in mind. I accidentally ended up writing more than 4,000 words for this one (I was aiming at making it less than 2000 words jfsljgalk) and I think maybe some parts are stupid or don’t make sense, but I think it’s cute at least and it’s fluff and angst so what more can you ask for? Enjoy! Thanks for the prompt!!! I think I’ll call this “A Hard Day’s Night” lol

Slight tw for cursing

You didn’t mean for it to be this way, it just sort of….happened. You liked to think you didn’t have any enemies, I mean, you didn’t talk a lot, you didn’t have a lot of friends and you kept a low profile. You minded your own business, plain and simple. So how you ended up despising your neighbor across the hall from you was truly a shock to yourself.

It’s not like you didn’t have a reason though. Looking back, perhaps you had overreacted but....no, you had a perfectly valid reason. You sigh, you didn’t want to think about it anymore. You shut your eyes and laid back in your bed, and still you couldn’t stop replaying the day’s events over and over in your head.

It was, perhaps, one of the worst days you had had in the past few months. School was piling up, you were behind on no less than 3 assignments, you had an approaching test and you most certainly weren’t prepared. You had bills to pay, groceries to buy unless you wanted to starve. And now, the cherry on top, your mother had called to tell you that your father had been in a bad car accident, and that he was in the hospital with multiple broken bones. The pressure was piling and piling and piling.

So, after the worst week you’ve had in a very long time, all you wanted to do was go back to your shitty apartment and cry. Fate, apparently, had other plans. You entered your building and began walking up the steps. Truthfully, you hadn’t fully noticed the loud voices coming from somewhere farther up in the building, but as you got closer to your floor you realized it was coming from the hallway in front of your room. As you stepped into the hall, you noticed 4 men, 3 of them laughing and joking around, while the other man locked the door behind them preparing to go who knows where. You recognized him as your next door neighbor whom you had never actually spoken to.

The sight of them had only caught you off guard for a second before realizing that, actually, you couldn’t care less who they were or what they were doing, as you only wanted to be in bed. As you walked towards them, all 4 noticed you, you kept your head low. You noticed out of the side of your eye that a blonde one had elbowed another one of the men, before walking towards you slightly with a confident and arrogant attitude that had already begun to piss you off. Then he spoke.

“Hello, gorgeous.” he said.

You heard one of them groan in annoyance, and another, which you realized after was your neighbor, chastise him.

“Roger, please.” he said

“What? I was only being nice”

Through all of this, you kept your head down and you didn’t stop to give him the satisfaction. You would have to walk past them to get to your apartment, so you kept going. Then you heard your neighbor speak once again.

“Oh, hey, I think I left something inside, let me get it.” and he quickly unlocked the door and went in, leaving the other 3 in the hallway. Right before you were about to pass them, the blonde, Roger, once again made a move, moving right in front of your path and leaning against the wall on his elbow in a stupid attempt of looking appealing. His other 2 friends, one with black hair and one with brown hair, both rolled their eyes.

“I’m Roger,” he said with a sly smile, sticking out his hand for you to shake.

“Piss off,” you replied.

The two other men, though they seemed annoyed with his antics, didn’t think to move out of the way to let you through the cramped hallway, so you opted for pushing yourself through forcefully, slightly knocking Roger off his balance.

“Hey!” he yelled, offended. As you went past he put his hand on your shoulder, and in one quick moment of rage, you snapped and turned around.

“Listen to me, asshole. If you ever fucking touch me ever again, you will be so sorry. I’ve dealt with men who love to harass women, I’ve seen it all, and you’re just as bad as them. You do not have the right. So next time you even think about laying a hand on me or any other woman you’ve ever bothered, take a moment to think about what a piece of shit you are.”

In the moment you hadn’t noticed it, but your neighbor had found whatever he had been looking for and was now back outside in the hallway, locking up his apartment again as you went off on his friend. As you finished, you saw the look of shock on all 4 of the men’s faces. Whatever they had been expecting, it wasn’t that. Roger put his arms up in defense.

“Woah, I’m sorry.” he said half apologetically.

You turned on your heels and walked away, not suffering one more second of interaction. You heard your neighbor behind you saying something to them. It registered for a moment that he sounded angry.

You were already looking for your keys in your bag as you approached your door after what seemed like a 5 minute ordeal. In reality, the events from the moment you got to the top of the steps to the moment you reached your door couldn’t have been longer than a minute, but doesn’t anger always make you perceive things differently? You were already fiddling with your keys and were about to unlock your door when you noticed that your neighbor had run up next to you before you got into your room.

“Look, I am so, so sorry for my friend’s behavior. Roger can be....a pain” he said as he rubbed his neck awkwardly.

You merely looked at him, anger still blurring your head.

“Um, if there’s anything I can do, you know, to make up for it, please let me kn-”

And before he could finish, you were walking into your apartment and slamming the door shut in his face. You had no room for niceties, no room for forgiveness at the moment. You turned around and slammed the keys on the kitchen counter. You thought that he might try to knock, or to say something on the other side of the door, but you heard nothing more and forgot about it. Your only mission was to cry like you had never cried before, so you walked to your bedroom, shut the door, and fell face first onto your bed. And then came the tears.

For the next few hours you had gone through a sad and vicious cycle. Cry, wipe your tears away, compose yourself, pick up the book next to your bed to try to move your mind away from your problems, remember your problems, and cry some more. Honestly, it was therapeutic. At some point you knew you wouldn’t be able to bottle your feelings up anymore, and maybe, you thought, this would be a turning point of sorts. Maybe you would be able to get your shit together after the climax of the day. Well, you thought that, and then you began to cry some more.

And so there you sat, crying rather loudly in your apartment, wallowing in self pity. So much so that you almost didn’t hear the knock at your door.

At first you wondered what would happen if you just didn’t answer the door. Whoever was on the other side of it surely couldn’t have been more important than what you had going on at the moment. But, in a quick moment of judgement, you decided to make yourself get up and answer it. You walked to the door, wiping tears and mascara trails alike off of your face, trying to maintain any dignity you had left.

You didn’t bother looking through the peephole before opening the door. There stood your neighbor in front of you. It occurred to you that perhaps you didn’t have a right to be angry at him; after all, it was his friend who had set you off, not him. He had only been in the firing range. But either way, at that moment his was not the face you wanted to see. A new spark of rage began boiling in you, but he began talking before you got the chance to act on it.

“Hello, I-” he began before pausing, taking a look at your face and tilting his head. He undoubtedly noticed your tear stained face, you realized. “Uh, sorry, are you alright, love?” he asked gently.

Perhaps, if you and he had been friends, this question would have sparked a different response in you, but after the day you had had, you didn’t quite feel like unloading all of your angst on to a stranger. Instinctively, you wiped your face with the back of your hand, trying to further wipe away your stained face.

“Yes,” you said swiftly and angrily, “what are you doing here?”

“Uh, well, I just wanted to apologize again for my friend, you see. I just,” he paused and looked down, before looking back up to you again. “I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

You wanted to be mad. You wanted to be furious at him. He, a complete stranger to you, had no right to check on you. He had no right to ask if you were alright, to invade your privacy. Briefly, however, it crossed your mind that maybe you were being rash and ridiculous. You stood there for a moment, deciding on some sort of response to his question. Then, it hit you like a pound of bricks, and, oh god, you were crying again. In front of your neighbor who you’ve talked to a collective 2 minutes total.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t put this all on you, I’m sorry,” you said, tossing the rest of your dignity out of the window. You rested your head in your hands and tried to stop the flow of tears.

“No, it’s alright, it’s ok love, I-” he stopped, not knowing exactly what to say. He hesitantly put his hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him, dodging your eyes away every few seconds in a sad attempt of escaping eye contact.

“Listen, and it’s alright if you don’t want to or if it would make you uncomfortable, but uh, well. Would you like to come over to my apartment? I totally get it if that’s not alright, I know we don’t exactly know each other like that, but...you seem like you could use a friend right now.”

You looked around restlessly, your tears slowly coming to a stop as you wiped underneath your eyes once more and exhaling out. You thought about his offer, thought about how on another day, under different circumstances, you might have declined it. But he was right, you could use a friend.

“Okay.” you said. “Let me grab my keys.”

“Al..alright” he replied. He seemed as if he expected you to say no.

You turned back around, grabbed your keyring off the counter, and followed him out of the apartment and towards his own. He let you go in first, and you took a quick look around. It was nice; a little messy perhaps, but it was charming. The walls were littered with various posters and illustrations. One of the posters, you noticed, had 4 people on it whom you recognized. You looked closer and realized it was your neighbor and the 3 others you had met earlier today. Well, ‘met’ was an over exaggeration. Underneath the photos, written in extravagant text, wrote “Queen.” It was a band poster.

You felt him walk up beside you after closing the door.

“Are you guys a band?” you asked, beginning to finally settle down but still sniffling occasionally.

“Uh, yeah we are, actually.” he said, once again rubbing the back of his neck as he had done earlier. You looked at the poster again, seemingly lost in thought, before he pulled you out of it.

“Right, well. I don’t suppose I’ve officially introduced myself. I’m Brian” he said, extending his palm.

“I’m y/n” you replied. And for the first time that day, you smiled, even though it was only slight.

“Hello, y/n” he repeated, faintly echoing your smile. You realized that you didn’t exactly know how to progress the conversation. You had just cried in front of your neighbor, and now you were in his apartment. Needless to say that this was a new situation for you, and it seemed it was for Brian too. There was a short moment of silence over the room before you spoke up, breaking it awkwardly.

“I’m really sorry about everything,” you began before getting cut off.

“No, if anyone should apologize it needs to be me,” he started apologetically. “I’m so sorry about my friend earlier, Roger is a real pain in the ass and doesn’t know how to talk to people appropriately, as you can tell. I should have stopped him, I didn’t realize what he was going to try, I should have known though. I could have handled that better.”

This took you aback. You hadn’t anticipated such a sincere apology and now you were beginning to feel guilty.

“Really, I shouldn’t have lashed out at you that way earlier, I shut the door in your face, that was rude, i-” you paused to take a breath and ran your hand through your hair in the process. “It’s just been a really long day. So much has been happening lately and it’s become overwhelming. I usually don’t get so angry and impulsive, I just-”

“No, it’s alright, I understand completely. I’m the same way sometimes. It’s easy to let your problems, I don’t know, spiral sometimes. Snowball effect, until they’re so big they’re tough to handle. I get it.”

You weren’t used to someone being so kind to you. It almost made you start crying again, this time out of relief instead of frustration. You tried to hold back, but tears pricked the back of your eyes anyways. One escaped and you quickly wiped it away.

“I’m sorry if I’m overstepping.” he said, noticing it.

“No, no, you’re ok. I’m just not used to...this.” you quickly reassured, vaguely gesturing your hand in the air. You weren’t exactly sure what ‘this’ was.

“Would you like to sit down? Can I get you something to drink? A glass of water?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” And with that he turned away into the kitchen, leaving you in the small living room to sit down on his couch.

Looking around some more, you noticed a few things. On the walls, among his own band poster and others, you noticed a few illustrations and images. You realized that they were of constellations, planets, stars; anything related to space, it seemed, he had pasted on his walls. You then noticed a telescope in the corner of the room next to the window. It was silly, you pondered for a second, because right outside of his window was the wall of another building next to it. Surely he wasn’t able to see many stars through it, you thought, but your attention was once again drawn away by the sight of another thing. Near the telescope was a shiny red guitar propped up on a stand. He was a guitarist, then.

Brian walked back into the room a moment later with a glass of water in his hand. He gave it to you and you took it gratefully before taking a small sip. Perhaps you hadn’t realized how dehydrated you had actually been. He took a seat on one of the chairs next to the sofa, as to not overstep his boundaries and sit too close.

There was another moment of painfully awkward silence. You were beginning to wonder if this was a mistake. You had no business being here, did you? You thought that maybe you’d say something like, ‘well, perhaps I should be going’ or maybe even ‘sorry for wasting your time, i shouldn’t be here’ but you realized that it would only be combated by Brian’s reassurance, so it wasn’t worth the effort. Instead, you settled on something else.

“So,” you began. “I’m sure you’re probably wondering why I’ve been crying all afternoon and have been on the brink of tears since you invited me to your apartment.” You tried to work in some type of humor to deflect or lighten the mood but Brian didn’t laugh, he only stared empathetically in your direction, listening to you intently, not interrupting. His kindness was so astounding it scared you just a little, but you decided that you wouldn’t stop, and so you began to unload everything you had been carrying that day, that week, that month. It all came unraveling like a tightly coiled ball of yarn. You told him about school, about how you were in debt and were struggling to stay afloat, how your dad had been in an accident and now on top of everything else you were worried sick about him.

“I think the...situation..in the hallway earlier was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. I’m sorry you had to be there for that. All the stress was just too much to handle, and as soon as I got to my apartment I just...shattered.” you finished, with one last sigh. As you recalled everything, you were afraid that it was becoming far too overwhelming far too fast. You felt it heavy on your chest, you felt your voice become hoarse, your eyes become glassy, your lungs taking shallow breaths. All of the sudden you weren’t in Brian’s apartment anymore, you were inside your own head and nothing around you made sense.

And like that, for the thousandth time that day, you burst into tears. You couldn’t say you were surprised. You placed your head in your hands and tried to even your breathing but it wasn’t working. And then, out of nowhere, you felt the couch dip beside you, and you felt 2 arms wrap around your shoulders.

“It’s alright love, you’re ok, I’ve got you, no need to worry.” He said in a soothing voice, and you believed him. You didn’t think about the way that you had only known him for a little while and he had already seen you cry twice. You didn’t think about how one might find it strange that you had only just met and he was hugging you and helping you calm down from another fit of tears. You only thought about how at that moment, for the first time in a long while, you felt safe and cared for and no longer alone.

This time you didn’t try to stop crying, you just let it happen, and Brian didn’t seem opposed. He let you cry in his arms, occasionally running his hand over your hair and reminding you to breathe in and out. After what you guessed was 6 or 7 minutes, your tears slowed, but Brian still held you. You were grateful. You finally took a long, shuttery breath and began to find some semblance of composure.

“Thank you,” you said simply.

“It’s no problem, darling. None at all.” he replied, slowly untangling his arms from around you, and you almost missed the contact once they were gone.

In the moments after you both stayed silent. Brian let you process, and you took a few more sips from your water glass. Your attention was drawn back to the guitar in the corner.

“You play guitar?” you asked to draw the conversation away from sadness and stress and everything else that had just passed over you in a wave of emotion.

“Yes, I do. I built that guitar with my father. I’ve been using it ever since,” he said.

You thought that maybe you shouldn’t bother him, you had already put him through enough, he didn’t owe you any favors. But, you had to ask, didn’t you?

“Would you mind...playing something for me?”

“Yeah...anything you’d like” he said and stood up from beside you to grab it. You thought that maybe when he sat down he’d sit back in the armchair next to the couch, but instead he resumed his position next to you, only sitting a little farther away to make room for the guitar. He looked down in concentration before beginning to pluck a tune that was simplistic but beautiful. Then he began to sing, and you were entranced.

“Yesterday my life was in ruin. Now today I know what I'm doing. Gotta feeling I should be doing all right” he sang peacefully

“Doing all right. Where will I be this time tomorrow, jump in joy or sinking in sorrow anyway I should be doing all right. Doing all right”

You wanted him to sing forever. You would be perfectly content if, for the rest of eternity, you sat on his couch while he lulled you with a gentle melody. With each lyric, you fell deeper into the trance. Your eyes traced the features of his face. He was facing forward on the couch, his profile in full view and illuminated by the lamp a few feet behind him, making everything about him feel angelic and ethereal. It didn’t occur to you how intensely you had been staring at him while he sang. It was only when he stopped that you noticed he seemed a little nervous under your watch.

“It’s just one of our songs, my band’s I mean, It’s nothing much really,” he said, looking away awkwardly.

“It was perfect,” you assured. “You’re incredibly talented”

“Thank you,” he smiled, seeming genuinely appreciative of the comment.

For a moment you thought that the awkward silence had returned, but actually, you realized, there wasn’t anything awkward about it. You both sat still for a moment, and it felt as if you two had been friends for years, like you were more than strangers who happened to live in the same hallway. You didn’t feel strange or uncomfortable. The sadness you had felt only an hour, hell, only a minute or so before this moment had seemed all consuming, but now you could hardly remember why a lingering tear still ghosted your cheek. Your anxiety and stress was a distant memory now as you looked a few feet in front of you into his eyes.

He was looking back at you.

You noticed faintly how his eyes flicked down to your lips for a swift moment. You noticed, faintly, how yours did the same. For a second, you almost thought that the air had changed, that the energy had shifted in some way, you didn’t pay it much mind.

“y/n?” Brian said gently, lowering his voice nearly to a whisper. You realized he had inched slightly closer to you. You hadn’t realized just how close you had been sitting to each other before then. You skipped a beat before responding.

“Yes?” you asked.

He seemed unsure of himself, unsure of what he really wanted to say, and if he really wanted to say it.

“Can I…” he trailed off, not bothering to finish the question before leaning in ever so slightly to seal the gap between both of you with a kiss. A gentle one, one that perhaps matched the way he had been towards you that evening; soft, understanding, careful. Sweet.

It couldn’t have lasted more than 6, 7 seconds. You didn’t want it to end, but you certainly wouldn’t dare miss the expression playing on his face once you had parted. He smiled like you hadn’t seen him smile yet. He seemed happy, which was a beam of light upon the darkness in which the interaction you’d had together had started. He was considerably taller than you were, but he rested his forehead against yours gently, and he laughed.

“Was that terribly inappropriate?” he asked, looking down between the two of you.

You considered for a second what you wanted to say. You laughed back.

“It would only be appropriate, I think, if we didn’t do it again” You saw him smile again as he moved his head away slightly to look at you.

“Well, I suppose we have no other choice.”

He moved his hand up to your face, cupping your jaw, and again you closed the gap.

#brian may x reader #brian may #queen #fanfic #gwilym lee #gwilym x reader #bohemian rhapsody #roger taylor #john deacon #freddie mercury #asks #prompt #angst #fluff #early queen #roger is a little shit lmao #i luv him though uwu #brian may x you

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finitevoid · 3 years

Text

fairytales for children with no souls, an addendum: a requiem for genevieve grimhilde. read the rest here.

grimhilde pets evie’s black hair and whispers to her. whispers to evie about auradon, about princes and kings and golden bejeweled crowns and velvet-silk-cashmere gloves that reach your elbows. and grimhilde dresses evie in soiled clothes hastily cleaned in a bathtub full of old bleach because its the best they have, and she pets her black hair and cooes when evie pulls on her best pair of cotton gloves.

evie’s favorite person in the whole world is her sister genevieve. genevieve has dyed-blue hair and brown eyes that glitter in the gray light of the island of the lost and evie wants to be just like her someday. to be as graceful, as cool and calm and collected as genevieve. she calls her sister “jenny” and her sister calls her “eve” and they whisper the nicknames like a well-kept secret.

grimhilde pets evie’s dyed blue hair and tells her things. “men don’t like to feel intimidated,” she tells her. “you must keep your intelligence close to your chest, where they cannot see it.” she brushes evie’s hair well into the night and helps her dye it blue with berries and chemicals wasted from auradon. “a man must think you are easily swayed. that you are soft, malleable. able to be molded.” and grimhilde’s eyes glint silver in the light as she whispers, “you must never let him know that he is the one being molded by you.”

men hold all the power, she is told. she must allow men to think they have power over her, when in reality, they do not. she must marry a prince and turn him into a puppet-on-a-string. she will whisper ideas into his ear with such ease he thinks they were his own. she will be the one to order trade, to begin wars, to control the populace, all by pulling a silly man’s face close to her’s and effortlessly swaying him to her ideas. all the power with none of the glory. she must marry a prince, a powerful prince. so that when he is crowned ruler, the true king, controlling the kingdom from the shadows? is evie.

jenny never talks about princes or kings or riches and power. jenny always talks to evie about fairytales. she reads storybooks to her and points at the drawings waterlogged pages. but evie never cares about the drawings, no. she listens to jenny describe the perfect world of auradon, with its rich colors and thriving wildlife. she seems to spin the image of fields and fields of flowers in the air, uses her voice to create the picture of the richest of red apples, held to perfect lips and ineffably poisoned.

jenny has never met snow white, but evie can tell that she wants to. “she’s our sister, in a sense,” she explains. “she’s a queen now... living with her prince charming in auradon.”

“have you ever been to auradon?” evie asks, because she is still young and naive and thinks that such a thing is possible.

jenny’s laugh is like bells, but her eyes are drooping with sadness. “no, eve.” she continues to smile, despite the tenseness in her shoulders. jenny smiles through it all. whenever grimhilde rages at them, screams at her own reflection, jenny would hold evie close and hum a lullaby in her ears, smiling.

she smiles at the boy next door, who had sullen brown eyes and curly salt-and-pepper hair when he comes to their tower with blood spilt all over himself. his name is diego, and jenny would smile as she tended to his wounds. would smile as she cupped his face when traitorous tears fell, and that was always when evie left to go spend time in the garden, granting them privacy.

jenny tried so hard to keep up their garden. “we’re witches,” she told evie, once, a hand-woven basket hung over her arm as she stood over the meager flower bed. “it’s customary we keep a garden.”

it was mostly weeds, but jenny would stay out in the garden until late at night, pressing her hands together in fruitless prayer and desperately trying to call upon magic she didn’t have to make flowers grow. “we are supposed to be connected to nature,” jenny whispered, once. fell on her knees beside the flower bed, wiping tears as they fell down her cheeks. “we are supposed to be one with life.”

evie did not say that their mother was hardly “one with life” when she poisoned snow white with an apple. maybe we are cursed, evie thinks. cursed by nature to never grow another flower, for our mother’s sins. she forsook life, and so it forsakes her in return.

but her theory is dashed when, one day, a single flower peeks through the sea of weeds. it is white, and fragile, its veined petals swaying in the hot, garbage-smelling breeze. “you are like this flower,” jenny told her. holding her close, her voice was hoarse with something like terror, her chapped lips pressed to evie’s temple. “beauty among garbage.”

“if that is the analogy,” evie replied, conerned by her sister’s distress. “then you are more like this flower than I.”

and jenny began to weep, sobs shaking her shoulders as she cried. evie tried to wipe her sister’s tears, but they continued to fall, cascading down her face and plonking onto the white flower’s petals.

the tears watered the flower, and after that day, it grew another bud.

“who is the fairest of them all?” grimhilde asks, and it is a question she has asked a million times before, but there is something different, now. something metal in her voice, something cold in her eyes. genevieve has graduated highschool and evie has only just started it, and they stand at attention in the dining room like soldiers, their hands held behind their backs.

“you.” genevieve says, and there is a cruelty in the way she says it, rage hanging around her shoulders, a cold undercurrent in her tone. “it will always be you.”

grimhilde takes a step toward genevieve, and grips her chin in her fingers. “remember your place, girl.” she says, all haughty pride and cool rage. “i put you into this world, and don’t you ever forget that.”

“you are the fairest.” genevieve says. “i don’t want to be the fairest.” her voice breaks on the word ‘want’.

“yes,” grimhilde murmurs. “i will be.”

evie doesn’t remember what she did that night. but she woke up to the iron smell of blood. clouds and smog covered the sky outside her window.

jenny was covered in the iron-steel-tang of hot-red-maroon blood of her own throat. her own gore covered her nightgown and the bedsheets, staining them so thoroughly it would never wash out. her throat was- was cut, torn, shredded, destroyed. her throat was a gaping open wound, still oozing gore. a dagger sat next to her sister’s face, glinting in the candlelight. her eyes stared dully at the ceiling, unseeing. her face was purely and utterly blank.

diego de vil helps bury her, next to her flower bed.

evie does not weep. she is not wracked with sobs. she is not consumed with despair like the pretty perfect doll princesses of the storybooks.

she is filled with a white hot, all-consuming, vicious rage. she shakes with the force of it. it burns beneath her skin, lighting up her core like magma, like lava, like fire, slow-moving and murderous. the rage is agony, burning, powerful agony. it fills her from the inside, fills her up, up, up, until she cannot contain its burning, and it pours out of her from every angle like vomit. but instead of snarling and shouting, she smiles. she forces her muscles to tense into that of a disarming smile, never letting it fall, never letting it falter.

evie takes the dagger used to murder her sister and sets onto the town. she asks around, finds out who grimhilde paid to do the deed, and she finds him. in a backwater house somewhere in downtown, and she sinks his own dagger into his throat as he sleeps. he awakes with a gurgle, stares up at her in horror, and then dies in his own bed. covered in his own gore, his sheets stained so red it would never wash out.

flowers bloom over jenny’s grave, and evie spits on them. how dare they only bloom after jenny died covered in her own gore. how dare they ignore her prayers, her cries, her tears, only to appear over her corpse. how dare they take suffering so violent and disgusting and turn it into something beautiful. jenny deserved for the world to be bathed in the same suffering she felt in her last moments. parasites, the damn things are, evie thinks. feeding on her corpse for nutrients. sucking up what little is left of genevieve grimhilde.

there was no peace, no beauty. only agony. hot, burning suffering. evie would make the world feel her sister’s agony one person at a time if she had to. she would make herself feel the agony of her sister’s suffering. she would suffer, in her honor. in her memory.

(it was the least evie deserved.)

evie smears snow white’s storybook in red. she covers it in the red stain until evie can taste the iron and she sinks the dagger into the pages again, and again, and again. she slashes and rips and tears until nothing is left but puply, bloodstained scraps of paper. she dumps the mangled storybook over the flowers, and prays to any god that deigns to listen that it kills them.

it does not. the flowers flourish, the only garden on the isle. they grow high above the gore, absorb the paper and iron-steel-tang-hot-red-maroon blood into their veins and grow higher, and higher. they tower over evie’s reach, dancing in the breeze and reaching toward the sky. reaching for escape, in auradon. evie spits on them.

“who is the fairest of them all?” grimhilde asks, gray sunlight filtering in through the windows.

evie forces her face muscles to tense into that of a smile, hands clutched dutifully in front of her. “you, mother.” she tugs the smile a little wider, a little happier. “always you.”

grimhilde fixes evie with an appraising expression, until her wrinkled, aging face curls into a cruel smile. her face, stained permanently from bleach being smeared on it, stretches and tugs into a wicked smirk. “you hate me, darling.” grimhilde chuckles. “and you should. your smile is perfect.”

she pets evie’s dyed-blue hair as she passes, dress swishing around her ankles, her other arm flourishing. “nobody will be any the wiser, if you use that smile. you make a perfect grimhilde, indeed.” she whispers.

#death //#emotional abuse //#blood //#violence //#in general this one is. fucking heavy.#my writing*#fairytales for children with no souls #descendants #ive always thought about how like. grimhilde tried to kill a child of hers before she had evie. and what that must be like to live with #truthfully jenny has existed in this au for a bit over a year now but i thought it was finally time to write something for her #shes essentially an oc azsxdcfvg but ive just. become so attached to her #but yah her impact on this aus evie is. immense.#this one does not have a hopeful ending like the other ones. obviously evie grows and changes and learns to love herself and the world #but that is a long time coming

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nyctolovian · 3 years

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Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Religious Discussion, Forgiveness, Guilt, Religious Guilt, Fallen Angels, Fallen Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), (sort of?), Self-Hatred, Self-Esteem Issues, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Post-Canon, Post not-pocalypse, Canon Compliant, Coping, Warning: somewhat critical of god

Summary: When Aziraphale and Crowley's wings turn the same grey, Aziraphale does not take it well and begins to fear that he might be Falling with a capital F. Crowley finds his angel in a crushing spiral into immense self-blame and guilt, desperately seeking God's forgiveness.

"Heya, angel!” Crowley announced as he swung the door to the bookshop open. “I’ve got some really important stuff to discuss. Urgently. So could you maybe, um, close shop early today?”

Aziraphale, who was shelving some books, twirled round to face Crowley, already lighting up with glee at the sound of his voice. “Well, of course!” he said, placing the books down on the stool beside himself. He’d always liked having an excuse for closing early so it was lovely to have his favourite one walking right through the doors on a Monday afternoon. “What exactly would you like to discuss?”

With a snap of Crowley’s fingers, the door was miraculously locked and the open/close card was flipped. “Here’s not good,” he replied, extra fidgety today as he eased his weight on one leg and then the other. “Upstairs maybe?”

The smile on Aziraphale’s face slowly slipped as he was ushered up the stairs to his living quarters. “Oh dear… Is something the matter?”

Crowley audibly winced. “Upstairs first, alright?”

Aziraphale let out a noise of confusion but allowed himself to be guided upstairs. Crowley pushed him to sit on the bed that miraculously appeared just a couple weeks after the Almost-pocalypse. He set his fists atop his knees and looked up at Crowley, who removed his sunglasses.

“I need you to take out your wings,” he said.

“Pardon?”

Of course, Crowley caught the tension in the angel’s voice and said calmly, “Your wings. I’d like to check something.”

Aziraphale nodded. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly, he drew his wings out into their dimensional plane. He felt his back grow heavy with a comfortable weight and his wings, slightly stiff from disuse, stretched the aches out of itself.

When he opened his eyes again, Crowley was looking at his wings. His eyebrows raised as he muttered, “Yup. I figured.”

Aziraphale frowned as he curled his wings forward. His jaw fell when instead of the pure white wings he was used to, mottled grey wings came into view. “Wh-What is this?” he cried. Then, his mind did a twist and he looked at Crowley anxiously. “What about yours?” he said, standing up and holding Crowley’s arms.

“Calm down,” he said, gently pulling Aziraphale’s hands away. Then, he took his own wings out as well, and they were no longer pitch black either, and were instead the same mottled grey as Aziraphale’s. “A bit of a shame, honestly. I’ve always liked black,” Crowley joked. “We’re really on our own side, aren’t we?” Like a gentleman asking for a dance, he held a hand out towards Aziraphale.

Aziraphale, however, flinched away. “I’ve clearly done something wrong.”

Crowley frowned. “What could you have possibly done wrong, angel?”

“I-I don’t know,” Aziraphale admitted as he paced around the bedroom. “But I must have done something that warranted this change.”

“I changed too, didn’t I?” Crowley said, stretching his own grey wing out. “We have the same wings.”

“Yes, but it’s different, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, frustration building. “If my wings are turning grey, then it must mean I’m…” A shiver ran down his spine as he looked up at Crowley with imploring blue eyes. “Could it be… that I am Falling?”

“What?!”

Aziraphale wrung his hands and his gaze fell to the wooden flooring. “That’s the only reasonable explanation, isn’t it? This is… a sign that I’m Falling. F-For going against one of God’s plans, perhaps.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, rolling his eyes. “And I’m getting back in heaven’s favour. I’m being forgiven. Lovely.” He sighed. "Listen, you're not Falling. I know what that's like and this isn't it. God's a lot crueler than this."

"M-maybe She's giving me a second chance."

Crowley pulled a face of doubt. "Are we really talking about the same God?" He sighed. "Besides, even if you really are falling—which you aren't—it ain't that bad honestly. I quite like being a demon sometimes. For one, black wings are much cooler than white ones."

"But I don't want to fall! I like being an angel!" Aziraphale exclaimed. He took a deep breath as he clenched and unclenched his hands. “I… I need to do something. Seek forgiveness. Make up for my mistake. My wings are only turning grey so I’m clearly being given a chance to redeem myself, right?”

Worry set into Crowley’s features firmly now. “Since when do we care about what heaven thinks anyway? They tried to murder you with hellfire!”

“That was just Gabriel and those angels,” Aziraphale argued. “I just… I want to do right by the Lord.”

“You saw how She didn’t care about Earth, didn’t you? Whole bloody apocalypse just for the stupid war.”

“It probably was within God’s ineffable plan for the apocalypse to be stopped.”

Crowley threw his hands up. “God,” he said, “didn’t stop anything. We did!” He sighed, trying to reign in the rage that he knew was trickling into his voice. He lowered his voice into something gentle again as he reached for Aziraphale. “Angel–”

“Don’t!” Aziraphale said, snatching his hand back. “Don’t call me that!” His anger instantaneously melted, however, upon seeing hurt flashing across Crowley’s golden eyes. “I need some time by myself,” he said. “Can you give me that?”

Crowley’s eyes wobbled with hesitation. Finally, he said, “Sure, angel.”

***

Crowley gave Aziraphale a full day before popping by again to check on him. The first worrying sign had been how the shop was closed, despite it being only barely noon. As much as Aziraphale liked closing early, he usually stayed open till at least 2pm just so he could say that the shop had been open.

Crowley had also noticed that the books Aziraphale had left on the stool were still sitting there, untouched. He cursed under his breath and dashed up the stairs to the living quarters. He was somewhat relieved to see the angel at his worktable. Too busy muttering to himself, he hadn’t noticed Crowley enter at all.

Cautiously, Crowley walked to his side. Atop the table were copious amounts of notes and several different volumes of the Bible. Concerned, Crowley placed a hand on his shoulder, and Aziraphale jerked back.

“Ah,” he exhaled. He flusteredly smiled at Crowley as he adjusted his reading glasses. “You’ve come just in time, my dear. It seems that I need your opinion on this matter.” He picked up a notebook from under a pile of papers, flipped to a bookmarked page and continued, “Do you think it’s that time I used that miracle to reserve that last remaining pancake two days ago? It was really quite a frivolous miracle, and perhaps that was the last straw.”

“Wait,” Crowley said, his hand returning to Aziraphale’s shoulder, this time firm. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Why my wings turned grey of course!”

Crowley gestured to the mess of a table. “And what does all this have anything to do with it?”

“I’m trying to figure out what exactly I did wrong that upset God and turned my wings grey.” Aziraphale sighed and dug up another notebook, which he opened to a dog-eared page. “I was also thinking perhaps… Well, maybe the punishment was only just issued yesterday and it wasn’t actually for something recent. I’m also thinking maybe it was about that time in 1367 when I poured–”

“1367?!” Crowley exclaimed. He grabbed one of the papers off the table and read it. “578 AD?! Wh-” He looked at Aziraphale, brimming with concern. “Why are you going so far back?”

“Because I’ve been doing so much wrong!” Aziraphale cried, twisting the ring on his pinky. “They… My indiscretions. They began since God knows when. I’ve been doing so much wrong since… since the beginning of time, I believe. I don’t even know if giving away that flaming sword had actually been the right thing.” His hands were shaking with torment. "I'm such a terrible angel."

The demon's heart damn near broke in two at the sight of his angel in this state. He looked at the mess of paper and books in disbelief. He shook his head. "This is just too much, angel," he pleaded. "You shouldn't be made to list down every single thing you did in the past six thousand years and made to… to analyse it all."

"I didn't want to entertain the possibility but…" Aziraphale's voice was soft, distraught, vulnerable, like a child asking their parents to check under the bed for monsters. "But… what if it's everything, Crowley? How could I seek forgiveness from God if it's just… everything?" He squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't know how I…"

Crowley leaned in closer. There was a vice around his chest, clamping down and hurting him. Why must his angel suffer like this? What has he ever done to deserve this pain? This crushing guilt? “They’re mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes, all sorts of them. We just do better next time, right?”

"But I shouldn't be making mistakes! I'm an angel. I'm meant to do good." Aziraphale pushed Crowley away and picked up his pen and notebook again. "I need to find out what it was that I've done wrong. Otherwise, it'd be terribly insincere to apologise without even knowing what I'm apologising for, isn't it?"

Crowley ripped the pen and notebook out of Aziraphale's hand. "If the Almighty wants an apology, She'd better get down here and explain what She's so bloody upset about!"

Aziraphale slammed the table. "She shouldn't have to! I'm an angel. I ought to know."

"No! It's just unfair. God and Her ineffable plans, moving in mysterious ways and playing ridiculous card games we don't know the rules to in the dark.” He walked in a tight circle, running a hand through his hair, before turning to face Aziraphale again. “How could we be expected to know? Even now, I still don't even know why I got tossed down into a pool of hot boiling sulfur because She never bothered to explain anything! Six thousand years and still no explanation whatsoever!"

Aziraphale flinched, and Crowley felt a pang of guilt.

Lowering his voice, he said, “Look, God hasn’t explained anything then, and She isn’t starting anytime soon. Okay?”

Plucking his reading glasses from his face and closing his eyes to massage his nose bridge, Aziraphale said, “I want to do right by Her. Why is that so hard?”

Crowley sagged. It hurt him terribly to see his angel so distraught, so frantic, so helpless.

“Perhaps…” Aziraphale breathed. “Perhaps, I’m not worthy of it.”

A beat.

"I forgive you," the demon whispered.

Aziraphale's eyes flew open and he stared at Crowley, eyebrows tightly knitted. "You forgive me?" he bit out. At the silence, his brow furrowed further with fury. "You can't do that. Take that back."

"I forgive you," he repeated.

"What are you forgiving me for?" Aziraphale yelled.

"All the wrongs you did. Everything. I forgive you."

"You can’t!" he insisted.

“Why not?”

Aziraphale glared in silence.

"You're not made to carry six thousand years worth of self-blame and guilt. You're a good angel, even if God doesn't recognise that."

"But I want to do right by Her," Aziraphale said, tears welling up in his eyes. "I just… I want Her to forgive me. If I knew what exactly I did wrong, maybe…" His breath hitched, words stuck upon his throat.

Crowley knelt down and held his angel's face. He was trembling so hard Crowley feared that if he let go, he'd simply shatter and crumble apart.

"I just want to do the right thing," Aziraphale said. "It used to be so straightforward. If it was as God intended, what I was doing couldn’t possibly be wrong. But now…" He looked up at the ceiling, as though willing the wetness of his eyes to disappear, but a tear had already spilled out and rolled down his cheek, damping Crowley's fingers. Then, a couple more followed, like beads of a snapped bracelet. He relented and sagged in his seat. “I don’t know.”

Crowley used his thumb to wipe the tears away but they continued to fall uncontrollably and he couldn't catch them all.

Aziraphale's voice was thick with tears when he spoke and his bottom lip wobbled with grief. "I don't know what's the right thing anymore. I don't know if I've ever done anything right," he said, placing his hands over Crowley’s and pulling them away from his face. “I feel like I've done everything wrong but I don't know who to seek forgiveness from.”

Crowley turned his hands slowly to grasp Aziraphale’s. “You haven’t done everything wrong, I promise. Maybe some things. But we all mess up sometimes. We don't have it all figured out most of the time and that's okay," he said. "We're trying our best to correct what we can, and that's enough."

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, clinging to his words like a lifeline. Gently, Crowley squeezed his hands.

"Forgive yourself, angel. You don’t need to carry this six-thousand-year weight. And I can't bear to see you hating and hurting yourself like this, please."

When Aziraphale leaned forward, Crowley let go and allowed him to fall slowly into his arms. Aziraphale pressed his face to Crowley's shoulder, just as silent sobs began to shake his being. He pulled their hands close to his chest and squeezed. Crowley squeezed back.

Pressing closer still, Aziraphale muttered into Crowley's shirt, "I’m never going to get anything else from upstairs anymore, am I? We only have what we give ourselves now. We’ll have to figure things out by ourselves."

Crowley hummed.

“We really are on our own, aren't we? Just the two of us.”

"Yeah. Us two, on the same side. Grey wings on both our backs. Could be fun.”

That got a short laugh from Aziraphale, and tension trickled out of him. "If you say so, my dear."

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable partners #good omens fic #fanfic #aziracrow #my writing

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tothemeadow · 3 years

Text

Serendipity [Chapter 1]

When the kingdom of Ainamoryp falls, a motley crew of unlikely allies must come together to save the country.

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, mentions of blood

words: 3.8k

(a/n): All characters range from 19-20. Reader insert, reverse harem.

Dinton Keep, Ainamoryp, May 3rd, 492, 00:43

“The king! The king is dead!”

As soon as the declaration is shouted, there’s a growl of pain, then the unceremonious thump as a body hits the ground.

All around, flames lick at the stone walls, set the sky ablaze. The inky hue of the night is abruptly ruined by a brilliant orange, the smell of burning wood and bodies drifting along with the night’s breeze. The clamoring of swords crashing against each other rings throughout the air, seemingly traveling for miles. Horrified screams and blood-thirsty growls make for a gruesome, twisted melody, one that imprints itself on the brain and promises itself its unholy stay.

Heavy pants, cloudy eyes, a desire for murder.

This is what keeps Prince Shouto pressing forward.

Flanked by two guards, the three scramble through the narrow halls – the hidden passageways hidden behind the castle walls. A mere torch is their only source of light, a pitiful flame compared to the hellstorm raging through the city’s streets. Their movements are rushed, silent; there’s no time to be discussing the finer details of the invasion when the only thing playing on their minds it escaping. Gods be damned if more royal blood be spilt on the stone, seeping through and leaving a burgundy scar.

Despite the silence cloaking them, Shouto grits his teeth, the urge to turn back and fight ever present and growing. That’s his kingdom who’s suffering, hundreds of innocent people dying, suffering. And for what? Power? Wealth? If it were up to him, he’d go back and slaughter those intruding the lands, planting their flags and proclaiming their victory.

This isn’t how things were supposed to go.

“Please, my prince, we must keep moving,” the guard in front throws over his shoulder, as if sensing Shouto’s inner turmoil. “We have to get you away immediately.”

Funny how this works, how simple guards think they can control their prince, a member of the royal family. He could easily rip them a new one, put them in their place and insist they stand their ground, but he knows they’re right. There are too many enemies, even by Shouto’s standards. Even if he stayed around and fought, there isn’t a doubt in his mind that he would be slain right there on the spot.

Up ahead, a rickety wooden door comes into view, a heavy bolt holding it shut. The metal creaks as the frontmost guard slides it loose and opens the door. Heavy smoke hangs in the air, slowly spreading towards the surrounding woods and farmlands. Shouto’s heart clenches at the sight, at the putrid odor of death, the sounds of petrified screams. Closing his eyes, he tries to calm his rapidly beating heart, the anger boiling in his blood twinging the outlines of his vision red.

He’s a complete and utter fool for abandoning those who need him most.

Still, he allows the guards to lead him to an awaiting horse, a brilliant beast the color of ivory. Swinging up and onto the saddle with graceful ease, his cloak flutters behind him.

“Go! Now!” the guard with the torch bellows, eyes latching onto a group of enemy soldiers scaling a wall. “Get out of here!”

“You’ll be killed, dammit!” Shouto proclaims, his anger finally boiling over. “I refuse to have anybody else shed their blood!”

“You’re the prince, your highness,” the guard shoots back, both he and the other one drawing their swords. “There’s a watchpoint south of here, hidden away in the woods. Get there, seek for help. The soldiers there will lead you to safety.”

“Bastards, the lot of them,” Shouto hisses, “I can stay and fight.”

“No! You must go!” Before Shouto is given a chance to say anything in return, the guard strikes the horses rear. Letting out a shrill whinny, the horse rears up, landing back down heavily and taking off at a breakneck speed.

Cursing under his breath, Shouto watches over his shoulder as the two guards confront the enemy soldiers. They soon disappear from sight, leaving only the smoldering haze and raging fires encompassing the silhouette of Shouto’s childhood home. As the castle and surrounding city grow smaller and smaller with each impounding trollop of the horse, he can’t tear his eyes away, even long after it disappears from the horizon.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Levalon, Ainamoryp, May 3rd, 492, 10:14

Easy does it now, easy does it… Don’t get too close… And… Gotcha!

Snatching his hand away, Zenitsu quickly stashes the pigskin coin purse underneath his cloak. Heh, suckers, the lot of them. Most of them couldn’t tell the difference between their right hand and a horse’s ass, much less when someone steals their coinage. Briskly turning on his heel, he walks away, whistling casually.

It’s so easy.

On the market streets of the town, a large sea of people roam from stall to stall, buying smoked meats, freshly baked breads, the farmers’ latest pickings. It’s a jolly scene, the constant chatter of patrons and high-pitched yelps of young boys trying to direct potential customers to their father’s stalls. Zenitsu grew up on these streets, raised right alongside other peasant boys with no home or family to call their own. Perhaps it’s a sad story, one meant for lonely nights and listening ears, but it’s Zenitsu’s lineage. It’s what made him into what he is today, a thief with deft fingers and a pair of legs that could challenge a horse in a race.

An easy smile comes to his face. He’s long since grown used to the smell of piss and sweat clinging to the cobbled street, the hollow-eyed children staring long after the people carrying baskets and sacks of food. Everything is so horribly imperfect, but this is home. Hell, although he’s making his living in a dishonest way, it’s enough to keep a roof over his head and food in his tummy. And maybe, if he saves up enough coin, roll around in a bed of hay with a large breasted whore.

Sidestepping the crowd, he makes way towards the local tavern (Ye Olde Wife, can you believe that?), breakfast and busty barmaids on the mind. If possible, the patrons inside the tavern are nearly as loud as the ones outside. Kicking the door shut, Zenitsu heads for his usual spot at the bar, sliding onto the wobbly stool and shucking his hood down. Ale and body odor permeate his nose, the smell foul yet welcoming. Nothing is more greeting than sweaty men and alcohol.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” the owner’s crackly voice says. A stout old man with wild hair and a bushy mustache, he’s about as rough as they come, but to Zenitsu, he’s probably the closest thing to family that he’s ever had.

“Oh, come on, Gramps,” Zenitsu says, tapping the bar top with his fingertips. “You love seeing me, eh? I bring you plenty of service-“

“You flirt with the girls in here more than you order anything,” Gramps spits. Even so, he starts to step away, already heading to the kitchen to fetch Zenitsu something to eat. “Ungrateful bastard – it’s a wonder you’re not a father yet.”

“Yet!” Zenitsu calls after him. “Don’t jinx me, Gramps!” Easing back, he turns around, resting his elbows on top of the bar. Now that he’s closer to the kitchens, the smell of succulent meat turning on a spit makes his mouth water and his stomach growl. Gods, he is hungry. While he could easily steal something from the stalls lining the market street, he normally comes to Gramps’ tavern for a proper meal. And yeah, maybe he ogles the barmaids while he’s at it, but it’s merely a dinner and a show for him.

“Oh, shit,” some random man sitting at a nearby table says. “You mean you haven’t heard about the capital?” Along with him sits another man – they’re most likely miners, if their builds and dirty fingernails say anything. Knocking back his cup, the other merely shakes his head. “Them bastards from the north – Nialliv – they stormed it. Took Dinton Keep as their own.”

Now, it’s usually polite to not listen in on others’ conversations, but this is Zenitsu here. For as long as he can remember, his sense of hearing is astronomically better than the average human’s, and it’s actually quite a useful tool when it comes to his particular jobs. But this… The capital city being taken over? How come he hasn’t heard anything before?

“You’re telling me that Dinton Keep isn’t ours? Watch the shite spilling from your mouth,” the other man grumbles.

“Aye, it’s true. Took in the wee hours of this morning, I tell you. Apparently, the king is dead.”

At that, Zenitsu stiffens. The king? Dead?

“Fuck,” the companion curses. “And they haven’t said anything yet?”

The first one shakes his meaty head. “Only a few know, I guess. The messengers probably all got their throats slit. Gods bless their souls. It’d be a miracle if we’re all not dead by the end of the month.”

“How many are dead?”

“Hundreds, I take it. Mostly guards and members of the royal court, probably. No point in killing civilians if you don’t want to clean up the mess.”

“And the prince?”

“Disappeared. Haven’t heard if they found his body or not.”

“Oi,” Gramps barks, slamming a plate down on the bar before Zenitsu.

With a jolt, Zenitsu yelps. Whipping back around, he flashes Gramps with wide eyes. “Gramps,” he whisper-yells, “is it true?”

Cocking a bushy brow, Gramps leans forward, arms crossed over his chest. “Is what true?”

“That the king is dead,” Zenitsu says, slowly. He can hardly believe the words are coming out of his own mouth.

Pointing a thick finger at him, Gramps flashes him a warning look. “It’s not your damn business spreading the news around. People are gonna be in a panic when it goes public.”

Zenitsu pales. “No way…”

“I had a carrier pigeon come in this morning,” Gramps continues, voice tight. “Unless they kick them bastards out of Dinton Keep, Ainamoryp can kiss its ass goodbye.”

Glancing down at the steaming meat and eggs in front of him, Zenitsu’s body immediately says that his appetite is gone.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Roman Sea, off the coast of Ainamoryp, May 3rd, 492, 12:39

“Captain! Land clear up ahead!”

“Well, what the fuck you waiting for? This ship isn’t going to dock itself!” you screech.

The sky above is a limitless blue, not a hint of a cloud in the sky. The sun itself seems in a good mood, as does the waters. Your ship heads towards your homeland gracefully, the waves slapping against the sides in a hello, welcome back. As much as you love sailing and exploring new lands, home forever beckons for you, calls you back with welcoming arms. There’s nothing as relieving as setting foot on familiar land.

Although you’re young, you’re powerful. Already a captain of your own crew, the proud owner of The Pearl Lady, you’re meant to go places and the gods are surely smiling down at you. Granted, the overexposure of sun and salt water may have left your skin permanently freckled and mind scrambled, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re a force to be trifled with, and all be damned if they dare challenge you.

Hands settled on the wooden railing, you watch as the rest of your crew scrambles to prepare for docking, lowering the sails and readying the anchor. The coast of Ainanomyrp glimmers under the afternoon sun, truly a sight to behold, but something feels… off. Normally, other boats come to and from the mouth of inland, the capital city of Endeavor being a major port. However, there’s not another boat on the water, not even the small dingeys for fishing.

Your ship glides in smoothly, coming to a gradual stop by an open dock. Your crew pushes the anchor overboard, the salty water giving a final splash as your boat jolts to a stop. Hell, even the docks are unnaturally silent, not even a single ship hand or merchant in sight. All other vessels are docked, their decks bare of any people. Your crew shifts uneasily, clearly noticing the strange lack of other human beings.

“Uh, Captain?” the quartermaster asks you, hand instinctively landing on the butt of his pistol as he glances around, “Should we lift anchor and sail to another port?”

“Like hell we are,” you grunt, narrowing your eyes. Something’s coming. You can feel it.

Stepping away from the railing, you saunter down to the main deck, heading to the side where your crew set the bridge down. The clunk of wood striking wood echoes into the air; instead of it being a relieving sound – a sign that you’re truly home – it’s ominous. It’s only a matter of time before disaster hits.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” you tell your crew, “Something isn’t right.”

“Halt!” an unknown voice calls. Straining your neck forward, you catch sight of a small patrol of guards in dark gray armor clamber down the cobblestone steps leading from the streets to docks. While it’s somewhat of a relief to see actual human beings, you’re immediately on edge, body stiffening. Those are not the given uniforms of Ainamorypan soldiers.

“Fuck,” you grumble, biting the inside of your cheek.

Metal clanking against wooden boards fills the tense atmosphere as the patrol comes up to your ship. The group stands ramrod-straight, faces stoic, eyes sharp. The leader steps forward, neck craning as he looks up at you. “Who goes there?” he barks.

Clicking your tongue, you lean over the side of the ship, elbows resting on the weathered wood. “A bunch of merchants returning home. Everybody’s got to make a living somehow, eh? Now, if you’d kindly fuck off, I’d like to step on some actual dirt for once.”

The guard sneers, expression turning ugly as he flashes yellow teeth. “All incoming and outgoing ships are to be registered. And, as far as I’m concerned, your shitty dingey isn’t on the list.” With a metallic snap of his fingers, one of his followers hands him a clipboard and a hunk of charcoal. “Ship name, captain’s name, date of arrival and planned dismissal.”

At that, you bark out an incredulous laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me? When was this instilled?”

“Just this morning, actually,” the guard snips. “Since I’m feeling merciful, I’ll let you off with a warning just this once. Follow these orders or we’ll have no other option than to imprison you.”

Prison? Seriously? Just who did this dickhead think he’s talking to?

Scoffing, you draw yourself to a full stand, placing your hands on your hips. You could easily pull out your pistol and try to shoot one of the damned guards, but lead balls aren’t going to do much against a full suit of armor. “And I’m pretty sure I told you to fuck off.”

The same guard who gave the leader the clipboard and charcoal steps close and leans in, whispering something into the leader’s ear. The leader spares you a single glance, his eyebrow cocking in interest. With a wave of his hand, the rest of the patrol storm the ship, drawing their blades. Your crew readies their own blades and brandishes their pistols, murmuring unsure words.

“Captain (l/n) of The Pearl Lady,” the lead guard says, scribbling it onto his parchment. “Such a pleasure to meet a wanted criminal.”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Dinton Keep’s dungeons, Ainamoryp, 492, May 3rd, 13:00

“Oi, oi! Keep your grubby hands off of me!” you bark, shoving yourself against the guards holding you by the biceps.

“Shut your damn trap, you filthy pirate,” the guard on your right seethes, his putrid breath clogging your nostrils. “Thinking you can just waltz right into Endeavor? What are you, an idiot?”

“Far as I was concerned, Endeavor used to be leagues more friendly than this horse shit.”

“I told you to shut up,” the guard barks. Lifting a hand, he cracks up alongside the back of your skull, leaving a thrumming ache. The other guard merely stays silent as he shoves you into the other’s arms, fishing a set of keys from his side and opening the door to a cell. “Fucking rot for all I care,” the guard spits, pushing you into the dingy space.

You sputter as you crash onto the jagged rock, your palms scraping against the surface. You hiss in pain as the guards slam the gate shut and lock it. The one who mocked you takes off with a bark of laughter as the other simply follows behind. “Bloody bastards,” you grunt as they disappear from sight. “I oughta wring their necks and hang them from the bow.”

“Are you alright?” a new voice speaks.

With a screech, you fling yourself to the side, your hip screaming in pain as a sharp rock digs into the flesh. You instinctively reach for your sword, only to be left blubbering curse after curse after remembering that the guards confiscated all of your weapons. Perched on the windowsill sits a boy no older than you, head topped with messy green curls and a face adorned with a sea of freckles.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” the stranger proclaims, waving his hands frantically before him. Hopping down from the wall, he holds his hands in front of him, much like he’s encountering a vicious wild beast. Which isn’t totally wrong, but still.

“Bullshit you didn’t! I’ll kick your ass, mate!” Scrambling onto your feet, your press your back against the cold stone wall, bloody hand clutching your bruised hip.

“I swear it! It’s just… Well…. Look, your hands are bleeding,” the stranger says, turning his hands so his palms are facing upwards. “Let me treat them.”

Your face curls into a snarl. “And why would I do that?”

“I’m a healer,” he continues, stepping forward and snatching your wrist. You yelp at the sudden contact and try to rip your hand away, but his grip is strong. Now that he’s up close and personal, you can’t deny the fact that he’s tall and muscular, the sleeves of his tunic rolled up and exposing the veins and scars riddling his forearms.

Holding your wrist with one hand, the other hovers above your scraped, bloody palm. A golden light emits from his hand, casting a warm glow over your own. Ah, so this guy is a magic wielder. While it isn’t uncommon for people to practice magic, you yourself have never taken an interest in it. Magic can be a finnicky force to deal with, and one who cannot rein in its power may be subjected to a world full of hurt.

With a sigh, you keep your emotions under control and allow this stranger to continue his treatment. For one, this guy is healing you for free, and secondly, he appears as though he can easily throw you through the stone wall with little effort.

“There,” he says once he’s finished, gingerly retracting his hands and flashing you a tiny smile. “It’s all better now, see?”

Staring down at your hands, you flex them into fists, noticing how whatever tension that was in them had disappeared along with the scrapes. Magic can truly be a wonderous thing, but in the wrong hands… Well, things don’t turn out as pretty.

“I don’t get it,” you say, sidestepping the stranger and planting yourself on the pile of dirty hay strewn about the floor, “why is a healer in a dungeon, of all places?”

At your question, the stranger visibly perks up. He follows your movements, getting onto the floor and sitting across from you. “I guess a proper introduction is needed, huh?” he says, scratching his cheek in embarrassment. “My name is Izuku. Izuku Midoriya. It’s a pleasure!”

“I didn’t ask for your name,” you snap. “I asked you why you’re here, not who you are.”

At that, Izuku huffs and physically deflates. “You remind me a lot of Kacchan…”

“By the gods, do you know how to answer a simple question? You know what, don’t even answer that-“

“The king is dead,” Izuku says, cutting you off. His large eyes don’t hold their friendly glow anymore, but rather one of determination and anger. “He was killed last night.”

You blink rapidly at him, your mind throwing itself in for a loop. Wait, wait, the king is dead? How is that even possible? The king isn’t a weakling, and you’ve heard stories of him being a powerful fire sorcerer. But now that you think about it, it would explain the change in guards, the lack of people filling the once busy docks and streets…

You inhale sharply. “How?” you ask, voice small.

“Forces from Nialliv intruded the country last night and took Dinton Keep by force. People were…” Izuku stops, wets his lips. “People are gone,” he finally forces out. “The king is dead, the prince is nowhere to be seen, and all of Ainamoryp is going to lose hope.” Wringing his hands, his gaze drops. “I was here when the intrusion happened. I was fighting off enemy soldiers with all my might, but I couldn’t save the city. People are dead because I didn’t work hard enough.”

“And then you were captured,” you say. “But why not killed?”

“They found out I was a healer – well, I specialize in herbology, but the point still stands. They had men and women on their side who needed medical attention, and I was simply another pair of hands to them,” Izuku answers dryly. “They threw me in here once everybody was treated.”

“Then why’d you help them? They’re the enemy, you fool. You wanna know what I would’ve done? Slit every single last one of their throats.” Shaking your head, you lean back against the wall and laugh, but there’s no humor to it. “When you have the opportunity to fuck your opponent over, you take it.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Izuku snaps, clenching his fists in his lap. “I can’t stand seeing others hurt. I’m a healer, for gods’ sakes. Not everyone is some filthy, selfish pirate like you.”

Snapping your attention back to him, you send him a steely glare.

“Wait, wait,” Izuku hastily says, reaching up and smacking himself on the forehead, “I didn’t mean that-“

“You said what you said,” you interject. “And you know what? You’re right. I’m so fucking filthy and selfish that I’m the captain of The Pearl Lady. I bathe in blood and gold, you pathetic little twat. And I like it. So, do us both a favor, shut your damn trap, and leave me the hell alone.”

Izuku audibly gulps, his hands falling limp in his lap. You almost want to laugh at him; whenever somebody hears of your infamous title, their reactions are all the same. Despite the stigma towards pirates, you’re still pretty damn powerful, and your crew voted you as captain for a reason. Turning away from Izuku, you settle onto your side, willing for either sleep to take over or for Izuku to magically disappear.

Your quartermaster was right – you should’ve lifted anchor and docked somewhere else.

Anywhere else.

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #mha #bnha #ny hero academia #boku no hero academia #kny x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny bnha crossover #serendipity fic

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dhufeainnewedd · 3 years

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people will always try to turn you into a story if you let them.

the girl arrived in town at age ten __ mute for unknown reasons, small cowboy hat on her head, a lizard in her hand, and no desire to look civilized. / she wasn't talking, so they talked for her / they say she came to be in a field, unearthed & dirty, with no mother to look up to and no father to watch over her / they say wind & soil made her into a girl, like clay has made so many dolls in the past / from pandora, formed by the gods, to pygmalion's lover, more solid than ivory. / it does not matter that the girl grew up breathing & laughing, crooked smiles & scratched knees / THE STORY GROWS AS SHE DOES & SHE LETS IT. the reason why is so simple : if not for the myth, she would have to talk about mama / the way she cried while holding her newborn baby (cursed, cursed, cursed, cuRSED, CURSED) the litany so similar to ancient mourners ; tearing at hair & clothing, striking her breasts, a chanted dirge which tasted too much like despair. / ishtar would have to talk about her father / a blurry picture of a retreating silhouette, how absence has always felt like a failure at being something wanted.

she doesn't remember much but she remembers children / 𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 & 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 / they were three, which was a good number, a safe number : baby was born with two hands & two siblings, so each set of fingers could hold on to one of them, and them to each other. a circle of love / she remembers that. the love. / she thinks she shouldn't. she thinks she might have turned them into stories too ; remembrance is a trick she learned late, and even herself, she cannot draw without encountering difficulties / she always imagines herself as the girl in the field — the girl walking towards home because her mother always forced her to make a choice, which was no choice at all : mama drove her to the end of the field in the black pick-up truck and told her, if ya wanna be difficult, if ya wanna run away, then fuckin' go — we don't want ya. but if home's where yer headed, ya can find th'way on yer own. / so ishtar had to choose home, a curse in reverse. bless the home that has birthed you ! a ghost walking back to its haunting ; she did, she chose home like one chooses whatever is the opposite of death, and she thinks that might be why she doesn't want one anymore — walking towards home would be penance, would be punishment, would be her very own stations of the cross. / she is tired of walking toward places that dare to call themselves home and are stranger to her than the field & the river.

esther wasn't beautiful. esther was terrible. / she liked eating oranges. sticky hands shoved in ishtar's hair as part of a game only she knew the rules of / they weren't old enough for her to know but sometimes she thinks esther's cruelty was inherited ; from mother to daughter. although her violence was a sweet one, diguised as attention : she would torment her sister all day long & then spend some quiet hours with her, listening to a bad dream elisa had had the night before / 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚝𝚊𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚖 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚎 ? / she remembers esther helping her with her hair later that day. her small childish fingers in warm water & bubbles, making sure the faint citrus scent would be washed away.

simon was neither terrible nor beautiful, he was there / sometimes, ishtar wonders if that made him the worst persecutor or the best ally / 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴𝚂 𝙸𝚃 𝙸𝚂 𝙳𝙸𝙵𝙵𝙸𝙲𝚄𝙻𝚃 𝚃𝙾 𝙰𝙲𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙻𝙴𝙳𝙶𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙺𝙸𝙳𝚂 𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙸𝙽 𝙰 𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝚄𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈 𝙼𝙰𝙼𝙰'𝚂 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃. / he watched, a silent witness in the back of the room. when he was there to breathe in his part of oxygen, mama lacked the excess necessary to scream at ishtar / so maybe he was a small mercy maybe he was a saint maybe- / she remembers mama shoving her daughter's head underwater to salvage her from sins she had yet to commit outside of the maternal mind, she remembers spitting out water for help, she remembers desperate hands reaching for help (hers) & empty hands unnmoving (his) / a brother, standing a few steps away, silently watching / okay, so maybe he didn't care, maybe he prefered his little sister to be the receptacle of mama's insanity, maybe- / no one warned ishtar that she would get abandoned, but simon somehow heard of it, because when the girl opened her bag at the orphanage, a small book with blank pages and an address fell from it (when you're ready to come home, he wrote) / she kept it / she keeps it / she wants to burn it and never manages to throw it into the fire

years have passed / the story doesn't end / the white pages await.

she meets them later / it is september & summer is slowly being washed away ; ishtar's grief is almost as potent as her rage for the town she left behind / she thinks 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐄 and wants to yell, she thinks 𝐉𝐉 and wants to cry, she thinks about 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 and almost goes back to her car. but she doesn't think about 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄, too afraid to summon another ghost / she doesn't know why she takes the notebook with her, and why she follows simon's writing, because home has never been that place / but maybe she likes the pain, maybe she needs it, maybe she needs to be another ghost instead of the one carrying them, maybe she needs to see mama and remember how awful that was, how grateful she is for malborne. that way she can't be mad at him for being dead ... because at some point he made sure she'd stay alive when her own mother didn't / maybe she just wants a reason for the ache / at home she finds simon and esther and a grave / mama's ghost, the narcissistic echo of her voice filling that house with memories ishtar thought she had gotten rid of.

esther is beautiful & terrible / when she sees ishtar, she calls her 𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐄 and pretends that the girl who wore that name didn't drown years ago / she asks her for a story & gets angry when she is served one ; she doesn't know yet that truth in ishtar's mouth is half-chewed pieces of an orange & clean fingers. / esther tells hers, and by that i mean she lies / ishtar might choose the ominous & the unclear, but esther cares too much, esther wants her truth the same way she wants her past : perfectly sugarcoated. she lies her way into greatness and pretends no one can see the grime under her fingernails. / even the accent, she got rid of. she is a collage of every personality trait she thinks could give her importance, and that might be the only reason why ishtar thinks they would like each other, if they gave it a chance : both reflections of ideals they'll never reach. / but if esther can lie, she is no fantasy ; ishtar is the best at what she does, her sister is not. she is too conceited, too enamoured with what she has, what she is — she can't play her part because she cares too much about her authenticity. the fire in her is untamed, it is wild, it is a spark above a withered field. (it always, always ignites) / ishtar is no fire ; girl underwater, changing like the current. authenticity doesn't matter when you've washed your self away / it is so easy to see her through the cracks, to see esther in the way she pins her hair & the way she laughs, in the way lazy syllables soon get drawled when she is having fun. / 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚝𝚊𝚛'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 & 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜, 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑.

and if esther's the windows then simon must be the walls, because he is there, right there , holding everything together, giving coherence to the mess of them / and if esther likes to talk & ishtar pretends she likes to talk while listening, then simon is their exact opposite : he keeps his mouth shut until he needs words / maybe that too is inherited : dad's forced silence due to absence / when ishtar arrives, simon recognizes her immediately, and that might be both an admission of guilt & one of love (in this family, the line is so thin you wouldn't be able to hang yourself with it) maybe that's why dad left : 𝚃𝙾𝙾 𝙼𝚄𝙲𝙷 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙼𝙴 & 𝚃𝙾𝙾 𝙼𝚄𝙲𝙷 𝚃𝙾 𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙷, and still nothing in this house to end the suffering — just ghosts haunting the farm, haunting the fields. / maybe he ran away from home the way sinners run away from church, convinced god's not watching if you turn your back on him. maybe he thought he wouldn't leave with his past, or with his hands. maybe he thought he'd just leave — and that is ishtar's inheritance, legs that do not know when to quit, the profound certitude that the house you left will not follow you forever.

anyway, the point is : simon didn't talk a lot and when he did, ishtar thought it'd mean something, thought it'd be like gemstones found on exile (something worth holding on to for later. for when you'll need them. for when you'll have to see the world again, tired feet & crazed eyes) but his words didn't mean anything. empty, broken shells / even his gestures are void, the way he pressed a palm on the center of her back like he did when they were kids, asking her : where have you been ?, like the touch would soothe the ache of the question / he hurts her in innocent ways. he hurts her with quiet questions, with long looks, with a hug and a forehead kiss and a, are you hungry ? do you want to see mama ? / she comes home and it isn't home, has never been, but the notebook gets filled with moments she clings to, moments she had longed for. she is seven again, shoved underwater, divinity washing over her, breathless & aching & desperate for the safety of home.

ishtar wants to leave and she tells them that / tells them she had wanted to make sure the river was real, said she had wanted to see the church and the field, said she had wanted to see the farm and the house / she doesn't say she had wanted to see them as well, but the way she takes the time to announce her departure feels heavier than any confession / on her way out, esther throws a look at simon and simon shrugs and somehow that hurts ishtar even more — the way they've created language out of habit. the first sign of a community working as one : symbols being given meaning that only you, part of a whole, can understand. ishtar stands outside of the home they made, looking through the window. / esther says, you know, and simon continues without missing a beat, we were thinking about going away for a while. wanna take us with you ? it'll be fun, and that's esther's voice, and maybe it's a lie, maybe it's a warning, maybe ishtar should've known better. but she's tired of being alone & so alone she's always tired, so she says yeah sure get yer stuff / and they leave, and leave, and leave.

it lasts almost five months of traveling around. ishtar's exile, a religious experience. when the youngest has an idea, simon smiles & esther tells her she'll never be able to pull through. you've always been too scared — and that too is another lie, ishtar knows it's a lie, but she hates being denied autonomy, agency or control, so she has to prove her sister wrong / she does. she does every time. it's a bottle in her hand, too many shots, a weird looking pill, a piercing and a tattoo, a boy's hand, another boy's thigh, a girl's mouth, a long list of victims and no crime scenes apart from her body & her mind / she used to like it. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙾𝚂. the unpredictable violence. even bloody teeth felt good when you were the one asking for a punch. / but it doesn't feel like a choice when someone else is whispering the idea in your ear / and simon looks and simon smiles and simon only asks if she's okay and if she's having fun and ishtar says yes because she is because she wants to be because admitting defeat would mean having to go and she has nowehere else to run to.

but if esther is the demon on her shoulder, ishtar's doing her part too : each challenge is extended to her sister, a tandem of violence, the childish rampage of kids who don't know the difference between actual torture & play-pretend. they wreak havoc around them, and the more esther asks of her, the more ishtar puts her through as sweet revenge. baby grew teeth while she was away from the horror house & it shows ; bite marks all over her sister's hands as a parting gift. / and if simon keeps watching it's because ishtar makes him, because ishtar wants him to see the worst. when she dares esther into another terrible decision he has no choice but to witness, and if he grew a spine in ishtar's absence it doesn't even matter, because the game has only one rule and it's the rule of ones : one dare, one day & only you, nobody can help you. / so he watches, is forced to watch. he asks them to stop but each warning falls into deaf ears : esther wants to win and ishtar doesn't care enough to let her. / and sometimes he plays too, sometimes she forces him into acting fast, life or death situations, and he's there with his two good hands, trying to figure out where she wants from him / he thought he could avoid it, of course he did, 𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝙸𝚂𝙷𝚃𝙰𝚁 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙰 𝙼𝙴𝙻𝙾𝙳𝚈 : 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴. / 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝚄𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙻 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙵𝙴𝙴𝚃 𝙱𝙻𝙴𝙴𝙳.

it's a game and ishtar learned it years ago : you can't win if you think you stand a chance. (simon wants a life where watching doesn't mean violence / esther wants a life where she isn't a synonym for their mother) / ishtar gave up, is giving up on this past, the pages are burning and illuminated by the soft glow of the bonfire, she smiles. / they were no circle of love. they were �� the triangle of it, a pyramid of abuse with someone on top, always someone on top, and the cutting edges have left marks so deep in ishtar's skin she knows her way to the top, she'd climb it with her eyes closed, she has played this game a thousand times before meeting them — they stood no chance.

[ and maybe family is just that. the worst in you. violence inflicted upon strangers, linked back to the home of your childhood. something to burn to the ground. a haunted house you have to abandon in order to be part of the living again. ]

don't look in the notebook, don't read the words, they're lying to you. they're another prophecy you'll feel forced to fulfill : no one in that place wants you back. it's the house who wrote the words, the house with the memories of you asking for more. the greedy house. the haunted house. it needs its ghost, its sweet sacrifice.

(she leaves again) (leaves the notebook with esther & simon) (on the last page, a response to his request to come home : —turns out you can't go back to a place that never existed but i'm ready to build one now) no address to guide them there ; if it is where they are headed, they will find a way.

#eye contact /#child abuse /#drowning /#parental death /#a lot of lowkey triggering content so be careful #HEADCANONS between my sleeping & dreaming .#but for anyone who has to deal with modern ishtar... theres a bunch of useful info in there #if you're brave enough to read.... all of that #its a study on her relationship w her siblings #and on her past prior to her ending up in the orphanage

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njeancastro316 · 3 years

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Mend the bridges... Part 1

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I’m back!🤪 Yes this is the continuation of Narcissistic Cannibal. This will be divided in 2 parts. Because it would be tooooo long 🤦🏻‍♀️. The next part will be better . I promise 🙏 also I will make my masterlist so help me God. I know it’s difficult keeping up with me and my snippets. I love comments and feedback. I change things to benefit my story telling peeps so dont get mad if something doesn’t correlate with the series.Anything is possible when magic is involved remember that too.

Bold: Thoughts , spells , memories

Kudos to the gifs creators... my god I love ya guys . Very visual author here 😜

Characters: Elijah😍 , female reader, Klaus, a bit of Hayley and Freya.

Warnings: None

English is not my first language. I cannot stress this enough. I apologize for any grammar mistakes. I always have fun writing even though I’m nowhere near there yet. It never dampens my spirits . I hope you enjoy .😘🤗🙌🏻

@hellotvshowtrash @maldita-world @moon-child-writer @ronniemikaelson @raemikaelson @auroracalisto @eternityunicorn @elejahfanfic @xxwritemeastoryxx @soul-revoir @thequalitylady @nikmikaelsonswife @multifandom-girlie @mikaelson-emma @petrova-banz @alwaysfangirlingish @dumble-daddy @moon-ascendant

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Niklaus sat on his study having a drink , pondering on the days events . Rebekah had been returned to them and was save and sound , Elijah was still in his room where he left him and Titan had imprinted on his daughter making him Hope’s new protector ,leaving Y/N somewhat defenseless .

“Love wait” he called Y/N on her wait out . “Yes brother” her nose was red from crying . “You are always welcome to stay in the compound if you want to be closer to Titan” he smiled. “That sounds wonderful Niklaus and thank you for the offer but I’m afraid I must decline. I know I’m not welcome at least by one of the members of this family and I do not wish to sever our ties further. Titan is where he needs to be”she paused “at your daughter’s side protecting her from harm just as fate intended”. Klaus nodded solemnly . “I just...didn’t think it hurt this much , he’s been with me for centuries I mean Elijah and I saved him and We ...she stopped herself the sound of his name brought her pain. Her features changed taking a serious tone “he will be cloaked for any stranger who enter this home only family will be able to see him , if he perceives a threat towards Hope he will kill on sight ... just take good care of him Niklaus please promise me”. “I give you my word love” he closed the space between them and pressed his forehead against hers. “If you have a need for me , I will be here” he watched as she left .

Taking a sip of his drink he lifted his eyes to the door where Elijah stood.

“Niklaus I”... the elder sibling started only to be interrupted “What the hell was that Elijah”?! Klaus roared breaking the glass on his hand. “You are lucky that it was Y/N. If it would have been me I would’ve beheaded you and put your head on a pike. How could you treat her so poorly to even have the audacity to suggest that I have laid with her Klaus growled. I’ve never looked at that woman with any eyes other than a sister. “Brother I... “ No” Klaus cut him off . “Tell me the truth ? Are you jealous of the bond I have with her ? Because yes we have a bond but not the one you think , we are bound by our fathers and their mistreatment”. The elder original didn’t seem to understand. “Do you know why she lost it , why her power was unleashed? . Because you reminded her of her father” .

Elijah eyes widen in confusion.

“Her father displayed her to his friends . I do not know if it was the first time or one of many . But what I stumbled upon that day was appalling to say the least.He fondled her and called her names while she fought him. He pinned her like you did while he told her she was a savage, a whore just like her mother and when I spoke her eyes pleaded at me to save her that’s when I saw her loose control . I saw with my own eyes how she killed 7 men with no effort. You know first hand how her father treated her. How could you Elijah ? In a thousand years I’ve never seen you treat a woman that way especially Y/N”Elijah looked at his hands then back at his brother silent he had no defense what he had done was unforgivable. “That’s why we are bonded because she reminded me of Mikael. She is a strong witch and one of our best allies . Now I don’t know how you’ll do it but you will make amends with her”.

“Niklaus I cannot” Elijah body shook with rage.

“And Why bloody hell not Elijah ?! Give me one good reason” the hybrid shouted.

“I dont know !!” Elijah screamed his wooden colored eyes turned black . “All I know is every time she’s before me , every time I hear her voice I feel this rage , this ... this... hate that I cannot control . I want her blood , I don’t understand where it comes from brother . I can’t explained it but it’s there as tangible as that glass you just broke .I don’t even recall my time with her, even those fleeting memories I have of her ,I cannot seem to hold on to. Klaus was in deep thought this was not normal if memory served him right Y/N was one of the most important women on Elijah’s life. “Why did you ended it with her” ? The hybrid asked . “I”.... Elijah went to respond but found himself with no answer. “I don’t know, I dont think I ever did ”. “You realized that this is not normal , that someone has been in your head brother” Niklaus said watching his brother tensed .

“But that’s impossible we cannot be compelled” Elijah stated the fact . “True but you can be spelled brother” came from a female voice .

“Ahhh Freya nice of you to join us , it seems I was right our brother suffers from a magical affliction can you help him”.

Freya nodded. “Come with me”. They walked to her room . “Elijah I need your blood”she handed him a dagger which he took and made a nice clean cut on his hand, his blood pouring on a metal basin. “Ummm do you have anything of hers brother” she looked at Elijah. “I do not”. “Lucky for you I do” Niklaus smiled giving Freya a few strands of Y/N hair . “You have to thank your niece for that she was playing with Y/N and seemed enthralled with her hair”. Freya sat down and started chanting “Revela incantare veritas ... Revela incantare veritas ... Revela incantare veritas”! Freya’s body shook strained by the power passing through her body that soon her eyes started to bleed .Klaus and Elijah paced back and forth . “Stop Freya!”Elijah started to worry . “Revela incantare veritas ... Revela incantare veritas ... Revela incantare veritas” Freya screamed and stopped. “Sister”? Klaus called. “Brother”she panted while looking at Elijah “you have been cursed . I’ve never seen this magic before this is old magic older than Dahlia, Esther this is ancient magic, it is ... it has to be”. “Curse ,I don’t understand who did this to me?” “I don’t know but it’s not only you Y/N suffers the same curse . All I know is that whom ever it was Elijah they didn’t want the two of you together. They wanted you to hate each other and for what I gathered they succeeded”.

“Is there anything that can be done?”Klaus spoke . “They cannot tolerate themselves in the same room with out being at each other’s throats , especially Elijah he is mostly affected and he triggers Y/N”. “Well”... the witch paused deep in thought. “I can use your bracelet with a calming spell to diminish the curse effect so that when you are near her you won’t have the urge to rip her head off , maybe it’ll help with your memories as well”. “That will be most useful”. “I’ll get right on it”. “Thank you sister” Elijah came close to his elder sister and kissed her forehead “Please rest, promise me” . “I will as soon as I’m done”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Niklaus... a word. You said that Hope was playing with Y/N so I can asume that she’s been here in the compound”. Elijah met with Klaus his bracelet newly spelled.

“This is temporary brother but it will help you”Freya said while placing the piece of jewelry on his wrist. “I don’t know her well but she’s noble brother like you . I can sense it. If this war is to be won we need people like her”. “I agree” he spoke softly “Thank you sister” Elijah left to meet with Klaus.

“Yes Elijah she was here and she met Hope and before you put my decision to contest let me tell you . You are wrong she’d never hurt Hope. I dare say that fell in love with her as soon as she saw her , it was a sweet sight to behold”.

Klaus smiled remembering Y/N s face when she saw Hope. “She’s beautiful ...brother oh my god” Y/N put her hands on her mouth in awe. “You want to hold her?” Hayley asked. “Yes please!”she answered her excitement getting the best of her. Hayley carefully placed Hope in Y/Ns arms and Y/N melted. “You’re adorable little niece. I have wished for you for centuries” she whispered. “You will bring all of us together my love. Nik she’s perfect” she kissed Hope’s forehead. While the baby girl played with a lock of Y/N’s hair. “Now little niece , I have someone who wants to meet you. Revela” she spoke while going down on her knees. “Oh my God!!”Hayley shouted. “Calm down luv” . “What do you mean calm down thats a panther , a big ass panther”. “It’s s ok Hayley , Titan is my companion he’s friendly”. Hayley looked at Klaus and he nodded. Titan carefully walked towards Y/N and Hope. “Isn’t she beautiful Titan”? Yellow slit eyes inspected the child before him and purred in agreement. Hope little hands reached for Titans whiskers and pulled blue eyes set on yellow and Titan bowed down to the infant making Y/N gasp. “What is it love?” “Niklaus he ... he... inprinted on Hope” . “What?!” Hayley asked shocked. “He has ... it’s done”. Y/N bowed her head to her companion and walked towards Klaus and Hayley and handed Hope to them. “Are you certain?” she went on her knees to her long time friend and he only purred and licked her face. “So be it ... nothing will reverse it , protect her and this family with your life if need be . I’ll miss you my friend” . Y/n’s heart sank at the sudden overwhelming feeling of sadness that took hold. She had to leave. “My Titan ... always and forever” she bowed and rubbed her body against the big cat.

“So you see brother .Today she’s been stripped of everything she’s held dear . She will need you , someone she” .... Klaus struggled to find the right word ... “appreciates”not daring to say love.

“Niklaus I don’t think that’s wise, she killed me ”

“Oh it is wise Elijah because you deserved it Any way while we have gained a very ancient and powerful ally , a protector for Hope ,Y/N has lost her companion surrendering him with out question. Titan will never leave my daughter and he ...

“He will never return to Y/N yes I understand ” Elijah finished for Nik feeling a tinge of sorrow.

“She tried not to show it but it broke her , I know what that animal means to her and how much she adores him” .

“We rescued him from certain death , he symbolizes what we promised to each other of course she adores... ” Elijah stopped himself looking at his bracelet Freya’s spell was suppressing the curse and he started to remember things. Niklaus nodded “Go to her brother and mend the bridges” leaving Elijah alone to contemplate how in the hell he was going to make peace with Y/N.

#elijah mikaelson #daniel gillies #daniel gillies has ruined me #the originals #; mine #alternative universe #njeanlongsnippets

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fanficsfromyesteryear · 4 years

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LOVE CAUSES STOMACH PAIN (SO DOES CHEAP BEER)

A STRANGER THINGS ONE SHOT

— PAIRING: Billy Hargrove x Reader — WORD COUNT: 1,196 holy crap — WARNINGS: Cursing, alcohol consumption — REQUESTED BY: @lenas-wild-imagination

Hi idk if your taking requests rn but could you write something with Billy x reader where they are best friends and they are falling for each other but are to scared to admit it. But in the end they finally get together? Angst with a little bit of fluff. I was really inspired by the song “feel 2 much” ~ blackbear

— A/N: Ok, so I had never heard of this song before, but hopefully I gave the ✨vibe✨ justice!! Anyway, this was super fun to write. Thanks for the request! I hope you like it :)

It’s hard enough falling for your best friend, but when your best friend is one of the most popular and attractive guys in school—the one that all the girls fawn over every time he so much as breathes in their direction—it’s like your own personal hell. You hadn’t meant to fall in love with Billy Hargrove, but that was the funny thing about love—you didn’t always have a choice.

Parties were the worst. The two of you often showed up together, but more times than not, he’d hook up with some stupid girl and you’d have to find another ride home. The next day, you’d ask him how it went and pretend to be interested when really, all you wanted to do was find out where she and him stood and whether or not he actually liked her or if he’d just been drunk off his ass. Was this a shitty thing for a best friend to do? Yes, but that hadn’t stopped you so far.

Lately, you’d noticed that Billy was acting weird, specifically toward you. He was being quieter than usual, and God knows that boy rarely closed his mouth. Sometimes, he went so far as to completely avoid you altogether. You felt as though he was hiding something, but what it was, you had no idea, and you knew better than to try and force it out of him—he was stubborn at the best of times. Needless to say, there was a sort of tension slowly building a wall between the two of you now, and you couldn’t shake the nagging fear that that tension was going to get in the way of you having a good time at the party tonight.

Your suspicions were only confirmed when you and Billy spent the entire car ride in silence. As soon as you got in and saw that scowl on his face, you knew it’d be useless to try and make conversation—he would’ve just ignored you or turned the music up so loud it drowned you out. Instead, you sat with your arms crossed and stared out the window, your body angled away from Billy. The hopeful side of you thought, Well, at least he remembered to pick me up, but at this rate, you would’ve rather walked.

When Billy pulled the keys out of the ignition, you practically jumped out of the car. As you hurried into the house, you thought you heard Billy mutter something under his breath as he followed you up the sidewalk, but whatever it was, it was lost beneath the sound of the booming speakers and chatter coming from inside.

Like always, the two of you went to your separate corners. Just as you knew it would, the thought of your suffering friendship with Billy weighed down on you, and you found yourself drinking more than you usually did. Maybe it was because of all the worrying you were doing, or maybe it was due to all the cheap beer in your system—probably a combination of both—but after a while, something had you feeling sick to your stomach. You threw the rest of your drink into the trash can and set off to find Billy.

It came as no surprise when you spotted him in a dark corner making out with a girl you didn’t recognize. “Billy,” you called, “can you take me home? I don’t feel good.”

Billy made no move to acknowledge you standing there, so you reached out and gave his arm a little tug. “I’m getting really tired of you ignoring me,” you complained.

As Billy turned to look at you, the anger on his face was unmissable, but when he saw your eyes brimming with tears, his expression softened to mere annoyance. “Can’t you get a ride from somebody else?” he demanded.

You shook your head in response. It was getting late, and all of your other friends had already gone home.

Billy rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Y/N,” he said, stepping away from the girl he’d been kissing before you’d shamelessly interrupted. He fished his car keys out of the pocket of his leather jacket and roughly snatched up your wrist, leading you away and out of the house.

You stumbled after Billy, struggling to keep up with him as the two of you crossed the lawn littered with plastic cups and various articles of clothing that had been abandoned and forgotten by their owners.

As Billy’s car came into sight, he released you from his grasp. “You wanna know why I’ve been ignoring you?” he growled, walking around to open the driver’s side door.

“Yeah, actually, I do.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you had a chance to even think about stopping them. In reality, you firmly believed in the existence of ‘blissful ignorance’ and that it was best applied to times such as this, when your best friend was quite possibly moments away from telling you that he no longer wanted to be your best friend.

Billy waited for you to be seated beside him in the car before he said anything else. “I don’t wanna feel anything.”

You squinted at him. “Billy, what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not an emotional guy, alright?” Billy kept his eyes trained directly in front of him, refusing to meet your gaze.

You thought about pointing out that anger was, in fact, an emotion—one that he displayed frequently—but you decided to let it slide. Billy looked like he was going through something, and you didn’t want to interrupt.

“I like girls like that,” Billy said, motioning back to the house in reference to who he’d been with when you found him, “because they’re fun, but they don’t mean a thing. I could make out with them all day and still feel nothing. It’s just easier that way.” He stopped, and you could tell that he was trying to choose his words carefully. “I don’t know what it is, Y/N, but when I look at you, there’s something there, and it scares the shit out of me. I thought if I avoided you, it’d go away.”

You studied him for a moment. “Did it?”

As Billy had given his little speech, you’d watched as his initial rage diminished to what was now nothing more than vague irritation which manifested itself as a childish pout which you saw when he finally turned to face you. “No,” he mumbled in defeat.

Although Billy would never admit it, being away from you was worse than when the two of you were together. Even though you were out of sight, you still lingered in his mind. He would find himself lying awake at night, wrestling with his thoughts and feelings—something he never did before you came along, and now that he knew what it was like, he wasn’t exactly looking to make a habit of it.

“Good,” you said.

Billy looked at you, startled. “What?”

“You heard me,” you said. You leaned closer, as if to kiss Billy, but you stopped short, your lips just barely brushing against his. You smiled playfully. “Now take me home before I throw up in your car.”

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove one shot #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things one shot

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lilylilym · 3 years

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On Eren’s choices and Ymir’s curse

Ah, yes, I am back from Attack on Titan hell and I have thoughts. Major spoilers, do not read until you finished the manga.

This essay will be about Eren’s “choices” or the lack thereof when it comes to attacking/defining/reshaping/destroying humanity and how much of this could be read as Ymir’s curses.

First, let’s talk about what undergirds his course of action:

the injustice of historical trauma being justified for modern time apartheid:

Eren traveled long and far to realize how much the Eldian outside of Paradis was being discriminated against and held as noncitizens in multiple lands and nations, so much that they have to renounce their “belonging” to their identity and claim their personhood only “accidental” Eldian and not “truly” one like those from the Paradis island (as seen in

I take that the non-Paradis Eldian resemble the Jewish diaspora in the ways they are persecuted and subjects of ethnic cleansing, and a recent example would be Muslim people, in how they were put into camps all over the world, forced to live in ghettos, hated for the fear of their religion and their gods.

The hatred for Eldians supposedly started because Eldian leaders become power hungry and warmongers who colonized, massacred, and dominated Marleyans for 1,700 years. This is a debt that Eren, unlike Zeke, was NOT ready to pay, given that he is also only an Ymir subject in name like the vast majority of the Eldian population and was not in anyway responsible for the greeds of old, powerful royals. Unlike descendants of King Frizt, whose genealogy comes from passed down memories of literally cannibalism and war crimes for generations that destabilize all the inheritors in fear, shame, and disgust that they would not dare to do anything but die with the memory, Eren is a regular boy with so much indignation, feels so unjust for his loved ones and people who had to bear the cross they didn’t yield. As such, he refuses to see the current treatment of Eldians as just, and this marks the goal (not the solution) of his plan: to not let Paradis Eldians suffer any longer. So he does what he thinks he needs to do in order to advance that goal, all the while NOT KNOWING the outcome, only WISH for it.

Now this is not a metaphor for why Nazis or white settler colonialism and slave owners in North America shouldn’t pay reparations for what their government has done, because their descendants still uphold power over their historically subordinated subjects and perpetuate a system that does so. AND, the main character squads or people we think as ”good guys” here do defy the monarchy and old power toward new future for Eldians, so their refusal to align with old Eldians is nothing sort of revolutionary.

Now let’s talk about Ymir’s will and her curse.

Ymir’s will and the timeloop aka self-fulfilling prophecy and Watchmenian godly time:

If you watch HBO Watchmen (2019) you will know what I mean by godly time. Dr. Manhattan in the show experience all times and all dimensions AT ONCE, so thing happens simultaneously for him in all the worlds he occupies, and he is in every world talking to everyone. Also, he is a god, so he doesn’t follow human emotions, reasons, values, things are just actions set in motions toward outcomes. Nothing matters, because Gods as beings are not a set of ideologies, but circumstances that are willed by people. And humans are trully uncontrollable, ungovernable, down to the last one of them and their human interests.

What does it mean to say that Eren bears the will of god and Ymir?

So Eren went ahead and woke up the Wall Titans to have them rumble the earth. Did he do that because he wants to kill people? He doesn’t will it, but accepts that as a side effect. Did he want to scare other nations? He knows that if he sets this in motion, uncontrollable things would happen, disregards of what he wants or plans. It’s not like he can just reroute the Titans then park them back up in the wall, because there’s no going back, even if time is looping, the future is always in the process of being written. Inevitable, he said, was the course of action that he took and yet he goes through with it because he doesn’t believe in the inevitability of human bowing down to fate. Zeke’s plan was to make all Ymir subject sterile just so they couldn’t reproduce-and Eren thought of Historia and her bloodline that had already defied their fate (of becoming host for the founding Titan thus ends the family affair of eating their family members), and he thought of his parents, and all the comrades whose bloodline ends with them in their quest to freedom. Zeke’s self-imposed role of god of nothing does not interests Eren. He wanted more. And he saw the difficulty of achieving freedom in the last couple years he had when the deep rooted racism against Eldians by the Marleyans were also equipped by state militarism and the overall brainwashing machine in all aspects of life that literally turned children into loyal warriors who want to die violent death and adults who pushed their children there so they can live a sorry ass life. He saw the problem in all, and had no solutions, no moral judgements, only power to rupture this world anew.

At one point, it is the godly power of Ymir that affects Eren, her will that determines what Eren can do based on the memories he could see through her, and she CHOSE destruction. A lot of folks I saw was bewildered by the biggest revealing that Ymir was just an enslaved girl with her tongue cut off and think all was caused by her blind loyalty to her abuser. They also read the Ymir’s curse (die after 13 years) as nonexistent because she’s not a goddess who struck a deal with the earth devil but the first human to be blessed by the gift of life, to regenerate and to change life forms. This is where my reading, I think, will differ from a lot of people.

I dont think Ymir loves the king. I think Ymir’s curse exists. I think she cursed the Eldian king with the thing she knows will destroy all the future generations to come: a monstrous power, a literal man-eating power that will only be used for destruction that so long as anyone has it they become the enemy of humanity. Ymir did not know peace in her entire life, not a single person was nice to her even the slaves, every single one sought out to live a sorry ass life and sacrificed children to avoid violence unleashed onto them. You see that times and times again, from the original story of Ymir being singled out by grown men and women as releasing the pigs, to the men hunting her for sport, to the king using her bodies to the last bone, committing unforgivable violence forcing his daughters to consume her raw flesh, and they grew up to become adults who would make their children eat their raw flesh to generate power. You see that in the story of Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, who became orphaned child soldiers and adults who have seen death around them keep pushing them to be solutions for an ancient crisis even they know nothing about. You see that in the Marleyan Eldians who wish their kids would become warriors so they can become some model minorities and leaving the interment camps. Over, and over again, the cycle of violence is willed and carried out by people, no matter the shapes and forms. Of course, this is a nihilistic view that does not take into account critical perspectives that could work out, realistically, what types of oppressions and injustice that each group deals with (i imagine in real life there would be groups of critical Marleyans who resists their government and other types of social movements in order to end apartheid against the Eldian diaspora, and that Marleyan as a military state does have to rule their subjects with democratic laws and whatnot, but vengeance cannot be a guiding principle for modern society), but to engage in the right and wrong discourse is to literally disregard the entire theme of Attack on Titan.

So for 2000 years Ymir, in the form of an unloved child, consumed by greed and apathy, set into motion that the fate of the Eldian tribe will grow so big, so expansive, so powerful that their enemies will rise somewhere along history. And they will never know peace. Not until she meets another person who rages on her behalf, who understands the pain shes going through, to come and beg her to let go. When Eren comes to tell her she is free, it is not from the bondage of a ruler, a master, but from her bind to what he had done unto her, thats when she can rest. Let me make it clear, Ymir is not a slave to Frizt and the royal family, she is a slave to more than 2000 years of unforgivable injustice and silent scream, when all the people who have been trampled on bear the bloodline that was forcibly taken from her only ask her to help them, and not a single person speaks the truth on her behalf. She rages, and rages, and rages, and the humans created out of her legacy against her will, suffer. And she, the good child that wants freedom for the pigs, at one point believes that for her rage and curse she can no longer be loved. Not until she sees another girl coming to kill the monster who had carried out her will, with love. Eren can be loved, privately, quietly, for all the monstrosity he had unleashed onto humanity. And so can Ymir, be free, be loved, be at peace after all of eternity. She can leave this realm.

I wish Ymir’s perspective could have been shown more through the manga, but I don’t think it is not there. It is also a meta thing for AoT to let readers come up with their own reading of “freedom” and “justice” and ways to repair ancient hate. The events in the book, in a large scale, are not justifications for the actions taken, but rather a set of events that are connected, willed, and carried out against thousands of other possibilities, to the point of inevitable. Choices are always taken with or without true understanding of the context that would define such choices as right or wrong. And if you dig a little deeper, all the contexts that have the power to define decisions as right or wrong end up being created out of ambivalent decisions, as well. So much that the only thing you learn out of this story is this simple truth: attack on titan is the attack on humanity.

#Aot #attack on titan #Snk ending #snk analysis #ymir #eren #snk 139 #ymirs curse

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heyyyharry · 4 years

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Chapter 1: The Queen

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which Y/N is betrothed and her kingdom is in chaos.

Word count: 7.6k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N)

A/N:

I know my characters can be frustrating sometimes because every single one of them is flawed and makes stupid mistakes. I want them to feel real, and real people are always frustrating. So please, for me, keep the comments fun and lighthearted, because the main purpose of fiction is to entertain and I really don’t want you guys to argue over my writing. Let’s not be mean to each other and my characters - because they’re basically my children and it pains me when someone’s mean to them 😂

I’m looking forward to seeing your theories and questions about the plot ✌🏼

Also, the series will be updated WEEKLY instead of biweekly, so the next chapter comes out next week on Wednesday (July 22, 2020).

Prologue: What Happened To Harry?

The night was wet and dark. Heavy snow was lashing against the windows of the carriage as the moaning of the wind muffled the shouting of men and neighing of horses. Kennedy Rowley hugged her little girl, who was wrapped in a soft fur blanket, to her chest. This was their first time travelling to the North, and Kennedy had worried that her child wouldn’t be able to bear the cold. To her surprise, the little one had been an angel for most of the trip. She would eat and sleep and listen to her mother’s story even while the snowstorm was raging on outside. It was the same story all over again, and yet the baby never got bored.

“Once upon a time,” Kennedy began, rocking her baby gently in her arms. On her left, her husband had dozed off, snoring softly with his head leaned to the side.

Once upon a time, there were one hundred kingdoms living in harmony. The largest, strongest and richest kingdom in the North was ruled by an old king. The King had four sons: Lokesh, Kashvi, Reagan, and Aalam.

While The King and Queen were kind and admired by their people, the princes were spoiled, arrogant, and greedy. All four had grown up to become strong and great fighters, but the one with the most potential was Lokesh, the eldest. And the King was very proud of his heir.

The year Lokesh turned eighteen, the Queen died of a terrible illness, and not so long after that, grief killed the King. Lokesh became King in the North. At first, he was happy; his father’s crown was everything Lokesh had wanted since he’d been fourteen. But now that he’d got it, he wanted more. And so the new king came up with a plan to become the almighty ruler of all one hundred kingdoms. With the help of his four brothers, his army started invading the neighbouring kingdoms. Villages were burned. Innocent people were killed. Dynasties crumbled. And soon, all ninety-nine kingdoms had surrendered to Isolde.

The war was over, or at least that was what Lokesh had thought. As clever as he was, he hadn’t expected that the same greed which had driven him to start the war had turned his three brothers against him. A civil war broke out with four sides fighting each other for a year. Thousands of lives had been taken, yet no one won and no one surrendered. When the year had passed, the brothers agreed to call it a truce and divide the land into the North, the South, the West, and the East. Each brother would rule the largest kingdom in their region. Lokesh in the North - Isolde, Kashvi in the South - Theros, Reagan in the West - Attwell, and Aalam in the East - Rouxvania.

Twenty-four small kingdoms in the North now became the low courts which, despite having their own rulers, took orders from the high court of Isolde. Same for the twenty-four small kingdoms in the South, the West, and the East.

Legend has it that there was a time when the weather would change constantly in a year, but because the brothers had angered the Gods, it's always sunny in Theros, flowers always bloom in Attwell, and the leaves are always red in Rouxvania. As for Isolde, the land ruled by the tyrant Lokesh, the people must suffer from an endless cold.

By the time Kennedy had finished her story, the carriage slowed down and came to a stop. Her husband stirred awake as they heard a knock on the window. The door was opened, and a guard announced that they had arrived.

Kenny carefully wrapped her sleeping baby in the blanket as she stepped out of the carriage and took in the white scenery surrounding them. The sky was pearl-grey even though the sun had risen and the wind had stopped whirling around empty branches. The baby whimpered as a snowflake landed gently on the tip of her nose. Meanwhile, her mother kept spinning around with her mouth open wide; this was not only her first time seeing the North castle, but also her first time seeing snow. When she and Harry had been little, they’d always talked about travelling North just to spend a whole day playing snow fight and building snowmen.

This was not what she’d meant. She didn’t want her first time seeing snow to be without him.

“Your Majesty,” Stefan Russo said and nudged his wife, who started and immediately turned around. Kennedy curtsied when she saw the King of Attwell marching toward them with two guards in black armours following right behind, the silver hilts of their swords shining in the crystal clear sunlight. The King was also dressed in black. He was even more handsome than the rumours. His hair was short and wavy and as black as a starless night sky, and she could envision a raging snowstorm just from looking into his mysterious grey eyes. He was powerful and regal, but at the same time, just a young man of twenty years old.

“So you’re Stefan and Kennedy,” he said, his voice raspier than she’d expected. “Guests of the Queen are also guests of mine. You don’t have to bow to me.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Kennedy and Stefan both said.

“You can call me Kenny. Everyone does,” Kenny added. Only her mother and late husband had called her Kennedy. She shivered at the thought of them; she didn’t want to think about them now.

“How is...Her Majesty, Your Grace?” Stefan ventured, his palms trembling; he wasn’t used to talking to a sovereign.

The King’s expression remained unreadable. He didn’t look at them when he said, “She’s with Harry at the moment.”

Stefan and Kenny gaped at each other, then at the King as if they’d just heard something extremely outrageous.

“Harry?” Kenny blurted. “We were told that he–”

“A lot has happened since we sent our men to deliver the news to you,” Lance Devany cut her off. “But we still need you here, as you might be able to help us.”

Help them? How could two peasants help the King and the Queen?

Neither Kenny nor Stefan got a chance to question when Lance told the servants waiting by the carriage to take their luggage to their chamber. To the couple, he said, “Come. I’ll try to explain as we walk.”

“W-Where are we going, Your Majesty?” Kenny asked.

Seeing the horrified looks on their pale faces, Lance sighed and spun on his heels. “To the dungeon.”

Chapter 1: THE QUEEN

Ten months ago

Y/N woke up screaming. Outside, the sky was still dark. The snow was falling down lazily, and the only sound she could hear was the whistling of the wind through bare branches and her laboured breathing. She was alone in bed, dressed in her sweat-soaked nightgown. Her hands weren’t bloody, and Egon wasn’t on top of her with his rotten fingers wrapped around her throat.

The door swung open, and the warm glow of firelight from the corridor washed over the colourless carpet as a figure dashed into her chamber, sword drawn with a sharp whoosh.

Harry’s horrified eyes locked with her own. “Is everything all right?”

She nodded, her shoulders slumped. “Just a nightmare.”

Harry heaved a sigh as he put away his sword and looked around the bed-chamber to make sure it was really empty.

“Were you outside the whole time?” she asked when he turned away.

He looked hesitant, glanced at the bright corridor and then shook his head as if to say, ‘Fuck it’. He closed the door, allowing darkness to engulf them once again as he strode toward the bed and sat down in front of her. Beaming, he brushed her damp hair out of her forehead and planted a kiss on it. “Go back to sleep, Peach.”

“Harry—“

“I know, I know,” he said tiredly. “I was worried. That’s all.”

“You’re not my guard. You could just ask someone else to keep watch.”

Harry tilted his head, his mouth quirked a little. “I don’t trust the other guards. What if you decide to sleep naked?”

She smiled, hating herself for feeling relieved that it'd been him who'd guarded outside her door. It was riskier now that Lance was returning tomorrow; still, it wasn’t tomorrow yet.

“Can you stay with me until sunrise?” she asked, taking his hand and kissing his palm.

He considered her for a moment, but she already knew he wasn’t going to say no. Eventually, he nodded his head. “Scoot over.”

She giggled and made room for him under the covers. Harry slid in beside her, lying on his back with an arm behind his head, the other wrapped around her shoulders, tugging her in. She rested her head on his chest and snuggled close, feeling much safer now that he was here to keep bad dreams away.

Closing her eyes and counting his heartbeats, Y/N gradually fell back to sleep.

The next time she woke up was to Jo shouting at Harry to get out of the room. Harry launched himself out of the bed and combed his fingers frantically through his messy curls as Jo continued scolding at him. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Y/N realised that the sun was already hanging above the tallest trees outside her windows. Harry had overslept.

“No one has come in, right? Just you?” she calmly asked Jo, who stopped shouting to answer, “Yes, just me. What were you thinking, Y/N?!”

“Hey, you’re talking to the Queen, woman,” Harry said.

Jo smacked him hard on the arm, causing him to yelp and bounce back. “You slept in her bed,” Jo snapped. “You don’t get to speak morals here. Now get out!”

“Stop it. Both of you,” Y/N yawned as she swung her legs to the side of the bed and stretched her arms tiredly. Harry somehow managed to duck around Jo and pecked Y/N on the cheek before he sprang to the door, shouting, “Love you!”

Jo gasped and placed her hands on her hips, eyes widened at Y/N. Y/N only shrugged, unable to stop the smile blooming on her face. She stood up and leaned against a bedpost as Jo came to shut the door.

“Relax. We’ve been doing this for two months already.”

Jo rolled her eyes and repeated the same thing she always said, “You have to be more careful.” Then, she paused and wetted her lip. “Lance is returning today.”

“I know,” Y/N sighed, crossing her arms. “I get chills just from hearing his name.”

It was meant to be a joke, but Jo didn’t laugh.

“You’re going to marry Lance. Are you going to keep Harry around forever?”

Y/N shrugged. “Our people don’t care who’s in my bed every night or who’s in Lance’s, as long as I’m married to a king and he to a queen.”

“But does Harry care?”

Jo’s question froze her to the spot. She swallowed and lifted her shoulders. “He was the reason I agreed to marry Lance.”

“He did that for the sake of our kingdom, you know that. No man is happy that their woman is married to someone else, even just for an alliance between two kingdoms.”

Y/N looked at her friend funny. “I thought you hated Harry.”

“I hate both Harry and Lance,” Jo scoffed and stepped forward to cup Y/N’s face. “I’m worried for you. If this goes wrong, you’ll get hurt the most. I don’t want you to lose more than you've already lost.” When Y/N didn’t reply, Jo pressed her lips into a tight smile. “Now, let’s get you dressed to welcome your obnoxious future husband.”

“I'm hoooome! Where’s my beautiful bride?”

Y/N exhaled as all eyes in the room pinned on her. She was standing at one end of the table, her palms fanned out on the map of Isolde. They were in the middle of an important meeting, and the last thing she wanted was to be interrupted, especially when the interruption was called Lance Devanny. She could hear his voice all the way from the courtyard as soon as his retinue had arrived. For someone whose whole life was a huge question mark, Lance Devanny really did love the attention.

She cast a silent glance at Harry, who was standing beside the chief minister. He instantly knew what it meant and excused himself to leave the room so he could stop Lance before he got here. Before Harry could even reach the door, however, it swung open and Lance strutted in with that mischievous crooked grin on his stupidly handsome face.

“Are we having a celebration without me?” he asked, looking at Harry and then Y/N, who rolled her eyes and murmured, “It’s always a celebration without you.”

She saw Harry scowling at the King, who brushed right past him, straight toward her and swept her into his arms. She didn’t have a chance to react when he pressed his lips firmly against hers. Her eyes shot open, and she could see Harry’s jaw twitch as he turned away.

It felt weird, kissing Lance. He’d never kissed her on the mouth. Their charade had only included fake smiles and hand kisses and the most scandalous thing she’d done had been allowing him to put his hand on her back for the whole night, and even then, they’d had a loud fight afterwards.

How dare he kiss her right here in front of all her court?

Still, she couldn’t help but notice that he smelt like flowers. She’d expected him to smell like sweat and horses. After all, it’d been a long journey travelling on the road from Attwell to Isolde. But he smelt like flowers, and his lips were warm even though he’d just arrived in the cold. Strange. Well, at least now she knew Lance Devanny had a heart that was pumping blood to keep his body warm like a normal human being.

He drew back, her eyes locked with his for a second before he looked over his shoulder at Harry. Y/N didn’t know what it meant. Was that supposed to be an apology for kissing her in front of him? Or was it to flaunt that Lance could kiss her in front of Harry? Whatever the King’s reason was, Y/N would kill him after this.

“Is my baby dove happy to see me?” he asked and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

She almost snorted. It was a joke between the two of them. He’d told her that he should call her lovely names like a man in love would call his consort, and she had hated all the options he’d proposed, like ‘my love’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘darling’, because those were for Harry to call her. So Lance had said, “How about ‘baby dove’?“

“Why a dove?” she’d questioned.

“Would you prefer ‘baby chicken’? Either is fine with me.”

It had been funny the first time he’d said it, and their guests at the time had looked so confused and uncomfortable (they probably weren’t used to a couple of monarchs who were actually fond of each other). But now that Harry was glowering at Lance and possibly her for looking more delighted than she should, ‘baby dove’ wasn’t so funny anymore.

All the courtiers in the room were watching them; Lance was putting up too good of a show for them to miss, and so she must play along. She cleared her throat and faked a smile as she pinched his cheek. “I’m so happy you’re here safe with us.”

Lance’s eyes popped open as she pinched as hard as she could, knowing he couldn’t cry out in pain otherwise they would know. When she released him, his cheek was so red she had to lean in and pretend to kiss it, only to whisper to him, “Do not kiss me again or I’ll make sure that’ll leave a bruise.”

She pulled back, smiling, and Lance rubbed the spot on his cheek as a corner of his mouth turned up; there was a fascinated look on his face.

Harry broke the silence, his tone flat and dry, “We’re in the middle of a meeting, Your Majesty.”

Y/N truly admired him for having kept his calm the entire time. If she’d seen someone kiss Harry, she would have jumped on the person like an angry bear.

“What about?” Lance asked. His joker character had been replaced by a stern expression – his mouth formed a straight line and his forehead puckered slightly. She wasn’t sure which version of him was the real Lance. Probably neither.

The chief minister spoke, gesturing to the red circles drawn on the map. “There have been some uprisings in the villages at the northern border.”

“The low courts were in on this?” Lance asked.

“No, not the low courts,” Y/N said. “Their people. I don’t know who started it but villages were burned and innocent people were killed.”

“When did it start?”

“After the Queen’s coronation,” Harry said. “You were in Attwell.”

Lance grimaced as he rested his right hand on his sword-hilt. She’d noticed that he did that a lot, as if touching his sword would bring him a sense of comfort, to which she could definitely relate. “So...two months ago, and no one bothered to write to me?” he asked, sounding a little betrayed.

Lance had left Isolde right after her coronation to return to Attwell. The people there were more open-minded than those in Isolde; they had actually welcomed Lance home with open arms, whereas her people had started burning villages and killing each other the second she’d been crowned. Sometimes, she wondered if it had anything to do with her sex. If she were a man, would they treat her like a hero instead of a sinner?

“This is my kingdom,” Y/N said, her voice rougher than she’d wanted it to be, and everyone started eyeing Lance. Maybe they didn’t expect their Queen to talk to her betrothed with such ferocity.

Despite her breaking character, Lance remained calm. “Your kingdom is my concern, too,” he said. “Just like how mine is yours. If your people are protesting against you, they’re protesting against us.”

Y/N stared at the red circles on the map and only dipped her chin in response.

The chief minister drew a breath. “A week ago, Commander Joaquin led our cavalry to put out the protests, and...he was killed on the way home.”

“Fuck,” Lance muttered, not caring who had heard him.

“Harry is our new commander,” said Y/N as she scratched the tip of her nose with her index finger, not looking at anyone. “He was the only one who stayed and fought to save Joaquin.”

“I’m sorry I failed,” Harry mumbled.

“It’s all right, son,” said the Lord Chancellor. “You did your best.”

Lance cast Harry a look. “Good job. I was wondering why you were here.”

Harry responded with a dry smile. “Funny. I was wondering the same thing about you”

Everyone was puzzled, but Y/N paid attention to neither of them. “Tomorrow we’re heading out to the border to bring supplies for the people in those burned villages. Winter is coming and they would not survive alone in the cold now that their homes are gone.”

It was the first time Y/N had seen Lance and Harry share the same look of concern. If they weren’t in a serious situation, she would probably tease them for it.

“What do you mean ‘we’?” asked Lance, tentatively. “It’s just a way of saying, right?”

Harry’s brows furrowed. “You’re not actually going, are you?”

“I am.” Y/N narrowed her eyes at both of them. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing. My commander died for me.”

“Which is why you shouldn’t be out there,” Lance cut her off. Was it genuine concern that she saw in his eyes, or was it just her desperation to find some sign that he was capable of having human feelings? “I’m going with them,” he asserted. “You stay home.”

She stepped toward him. He was a head taller yet she showed no sign of weakness. “Do not give me orders in my own court. You stay home.”

He pursed his lips, pretending to think for a second. “No, I don’t think so, baby dove.”

“I agree with the King, Your Grace,” said one of her advisors. She and Lance both turned to the man. “It’s too dangerous. We must keep you safe at all costs.”

Y/N shook her head. “If I showed fear to my own people, then it would prove that they were right about me. If I want their trust, I must trust them first.”

“You’re talking about the people who took innocent lives and burned down villages because they hate you,” Harry said; his voice was calm and steady yet fearful somehow.

She hated it when he sided with Lance.

“I’ll carry a sword and wear armour,” she told him. “And I can fight better than many of our men. Whatever it takes, I’m going.” Looks were exchanged, yet no one dared to object. “Meeting adjourned.” With that, she swept out of the room.

The door fell shut behind Y/N and the room erupted with whispers. Harry exchanged worried looks with Lance; he hadn’t thought there would be a day when he agreed with this bastard, and yet, the life in court kept surprising him.

While the chief minister was giving orders to the guards about protecting the Queen on the journey tomorrow morning, Harry slipped out of the room in silence. There were footsteps following him into the corridor. He kept on walking, but Lance was quick to catch up with him.

“Can you convince her to stay here tomorrow?” Lance asked.

Harry appreciated how passionate this man was about keeping Y/N alive. Still, it was irritating that he'd sounded sincere. Sometimes Harry actually believed this wasn’t at all an act to Lance and that he truly cared about Y/N. Would Harry prefer him not caring about Y/N?

“I can try but she won’t listen,” Harry said coldly.

Lance heaved a breath. “That woman is enjoying her power way too much.”

“And that frightens you?” Harry asked, this time, unable to suppress a smirk.

“Since she's going to be my wife, yes.”

Lance's answer pulled him to a stall. He spun and finally faced the King, who appeared too confident for Harry’s comfort.

“You do know your wedding to her would be fake, right?”

“I do.” Lance shrugged. “But do you?”

Harry pretended like he hadn’t heard the question. “I’ll find her and try to talk her out of it,” he lowered his voice. “But don’t ever kiss my girl like that again.”

Lance stood there with his shoulders squared and hands behind his back. Harry could feel Lance’s eyes on him as he walked away.

After having wandered all around the courtyard, he found Y/N at last and fell into steps beside her. She acknowledged him with a sideways stare and nothing more as she continued walking.

“You’re mad at me,” he said, breathless. She didn’t answer, her expression ice cold. “Hey, I’m sorry for what I said back then, I shouldn’t–”

“You shouldn’t have said anything at all,” she cut him off and whipped around, stabbing a finger at his chest. “You were supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m on the side that wants to keep you alive, Peach.”

“No, you’re on the side that underestimates me,” she snapped, crossing her arms and stretching to her full height. “Do you think Lance cares about me at all?”

Honestly? Yes, Harry thought, even though he shook his head in answer to her question.

“That’s right.” She nodded slowly. “That bastard doesn’t want me to go because he thinks I cannot defend myself. The only reason people are protesting is because they don’t want a queen to rule them. They don’t trust me to protect them if I can’t even protect myself. If only I can just show them–”

“Do you think the uprisings will stop once you’re married to Lance?”

She paused and blinked. “Are you saying that my people suspect that we’re faking it?”

“Probably.” He shrugged. “It’s been two months and you’re still not married.”

“There are so many other things to take care of,” she sighed and combed her fingers through the black waves of her hair. Sunlight filtered through the glass window on their right, making the gems on her crown sparkle like stars. He hated how they would be in the middle of a conversation and he would notice something pretty about her and get distracted. He snapped back to reality as she was saying, “...it’s a tradition that the royal wedding must be in the first month of Winter.” When he didn’t respond, she stepped closer and whispered as if she was afraid someone might be eavesdropping, “Are you...fine with this?”

He blinked. “With what?”

“Me marrying Lance,” she said, studying him with her eyes. “I just realised that I’ve never asked you how you felt about this.”

“I was the one who made you accept his proposal,” he said, working up a grin, which failed to distract her.

“You’re dodging the question.”

He pushed his hair back. “Well, as your most humble servant, I’m happy that you’re marrying Lance to secure the alliance between Isolde and Attwell. As your...lover in the dark, however,” she rolled her eyes and turned away to hide a smirk, “I want to smash his teeth in.”

Y/N covered her mouth as she let out an unladylike snort. “He’s got a pretty punchable face, hasn’t he?”

A grin stretched Harry’s lips. “I’m glad you agree.”

Y/N reached out and touched the hilt of Harry’s sword with her index finger, and he suddenly felt the urge to grab her hand and lace their fingers together. Still, his hands remained at his back.

“And the kiss…” she trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

“It’s all right,” he said despite himself. “Even the chief minister seemed convinced so…”

“Mmmm,” was her response before she withdrew her hand and her arm dropped back to her side.

Harry knew it wasn’t a good idea to turn the ship around after he’d just driven through a storm, but the longer he gazed at her, the more his heart ached as he couldn’t stop imagining her lying among the corpses on an open field. She hadn’t been there when they’d been ambushed. He’d watched people die all around him. Tomorrow wouldn’t be a fun excursion, and he didn’t want her to put her life at risk just to prove a point.

“Please consider not going tomorrow.” She threw her arms in the air as soon as he’d said it and yet he continued anyway, “You don’t know what it’s like. I was there when they killed Commander Joaquin. I couldn’t save him and I don’t want to lose you the same way.”

When their eyes met again, her smile had vanished, and now she looked furious. “And I was there when we thought we were losing the war against Calanthe’s family. My father was fighting side by side with his men on the battlefield while my mother and I were hiding underground with all the women in court. Why is it that my father had to be on his horse with a weapon in hand, and I have to stay home and wait for all my men to die before I do?”

Harry was tongue-tied at that. He felt like whatever he’d say next would only upset her more, even though it seemed quite impossible now. She worked her jaw, her gaze sharp and intense as she said, “Don’t ever give me orders in front of my court again. Not you, not Lance, not even my second-in-command is allowed. When I’m there, my decision is final.”

Her dress slapped the air with a whoosh as she stormed off, and Harry decided not to follow.

A feast was held to celebrate Lance’s visit, or return. Isolde would be his second home once he and Y/N had been married. Y/N felt bad that he would have to travel back and forth while she had not once visited Attwell, then the guilt shrank as soon as she remembered he’d been the one to propose this fake marriage.

There’d been so many times when she’d meant to ask him the same question she’d been asking herself – How long was he planning to do this?

Would he actually sacrifice his youth and a chance to marry someone he actually loved for the sake of his kingdom and do it so willingly? As annoying as he could be, she (like most people) was curious to find out who the real Lance was. But every time the question about this ‘foolproof plan’, as he’d called it, was about to roll off her tongue, Y/N would notice something that made her think Lance cared about nothing but himself. Sure, he cared about Attwell, but it was his kingdom. So it was also for his own benefits, wasn’t it?

Now they were sitting at the high table, watching a dance performance which wasn’t really that great. Y/N supposed it was more entertaining for the men to watch pretty ladies wearing masks and tight corsets (that made their bosoms look bigger and rounder) dancing in circles. Her eyes searched for Harry at one of the courtier tables and sighed in relief to see that he wasn’t watching the performance but laughing with one of her advisors. Well, at least one of us is having fun tonight, she thought.

“Hey, I’ve just discovered something.”

Y/N sighed, turned her eyes heavenward as Lance leaned in closer.

“That you’re extremely annoying?” she whispered back. “If so, then congratulations.”

“Adorable.” She wasn’t looking, but she could hear his obnoxious smirk. “No. I’ve just discovered the reason you wanted to go to the border with us.”

“With you?” She scoffed. “Darling, you’ll be going with us. We’re not yet married and you’re still a guest in my home.”

He didn’t argue with her this time. “To prove to your people that you’re unafraid isn’t the only reason, is it?” he pressed on. “You want to protect him.”

Y/N stiffened in her seat, still, she managed to keep a straight face as she picked up her goblet and took a sip. The wine stung her throat, and she grimaced slightly.

Lance didn’t care if she was ignoring him on purpose; he casually went on, “You weren’t there when he almost lost his life saving Joaquin, so you want to be there this time to make sure he won’t die a hero and a fool. Unfortunately, you cannot tell him that, because he'd have another reason to believe that you shouldn't go. So you'd rather let him believe that it's all because of your pride and that you're doing it for you, not him. Am I correct?"

Yes, she wanted to say, but that's not the whole reason.

Y/N couldn’t tell Lance that, ever since the day Harry had returned with her commander’s blood on his clothes and a wounded leg as a reminder for what had happened, she’d been having nightmares about losing him. They’d be in the middle of a battle, stumbling over muddy corpses, and she would witness someone drive a shiny blade through Harry’s chest. She’d run toward him but she could never reach him in time.

She hadn’t told anyone about those dreams, because after all, they were just dreams. But she’d had many dreams where she’d killed her brother and bled out beside him. Now her brother was dead, and the invisible wound deep inside of her never stopped bleeding.

She couldn’t tell Lance any of that, and so she sneered at him. “So you figured it out? What do you want as a reward? A ribbon?”

Lance tilted his head. His cheeks were a bit red and his eyes weary from the long trip and lack of sleep. At this moment, he looked more human than he’d ever been, far from this mortal God everyone kept portraying him as.

Y/N didn’t realise she was staring until his mouth curled to its favoured side. “Hey, I’m supposed to be the snarky one here. You’re stealing my show.”

He reached for his goblet but she seized it and pulled it toward her. “I think you’re drunk and talking nonsense.”

He let out a chuckle, resting his chin on his knuckles. The way his eyes bored into her made her uncomfortable. “You told me you’d protect him,” he said. “You said that when I recruited him for the army.”

“So?”

“Remember what I said to you?”

She averted her eyes, looking back at the dancing girls. The music was too loud and the people were too drunk; no one cared enough to eavesdrop their conversation. She licked her lip and finally answered, “That you’d protect me.”

“That’s right,” Lance said. “For you, I’ll keep him alive tomorrow so you don’t have to go.”

“Thank you,” she replied flatly, glaring sideways at him. “But I don’t trust you. I couldn't even trust you to saddle my horse without stealing the reins.”

Her comment made him toss his head back and laugh. “Your man is the con artist here. Not me.”

“You’re a pirate.”

“Captain.” He smoothed his hair back.

“Big difference.”

“And I was. Not anymore.”

“You still didn’t tell me about it. I know nothing of your past so I cannot trust you. How am I to know you won’t be the first person to put an arrow through his heart the second we’re under attack?”

Lance’s face grew grim as he exhaled. “No matter what you believe, my lady,” his voice lowered, “we’re very alike.”

“We’re nothing alike,” Y/N snorted. “Your people love you.”

“Do you think they’ll mourn for me when I die?”

“They’ll have to. You’re their King.”

Lance shook his head slightly. The fun Lance was gone, and instead, she saw the solemn face from the meeting today.

“Mourning for someone because you have to and doing it because you care, are two very different things,” he said. “Your family is as dead as mine, but you’ve got Jo and Harry. Even though they don’t understand what you’re going through, at least they’ll be by your side to pull you up every time you fall. I’ve been on my own since I was born. My mother died before she even knew me, and my father never wanted me.”

He stopped at that, and from his troubled expression, she realised he hadn’t meant to reveal so much about himself. It wasn’t a lot. He hadn’t told her his birthplace or his favourite food or anything private, and yet it was probably more than he’d ever revealed to a stranger. Was she a stranger? Did she care? They weren’t here to make friends; they were simply sitting together because of their mutual enemy.

“I wonder what you were like as a boy,” she said, changing the subject.

His playful smirk reappeared. “What are your theories?”

Her mouth twisted as she regarded him. “I imagine a younger version of you, but with the same bothersome attitude.”

“Ahhh, that is quite true. I was born holding a dagger. My first word was ‘murder’ and I joined the army as soon as I learned to walk.”

To both his and her surprise, Y/N burst out laughing. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her maids at the threshold whispering to each other, hinting at her and Lance. It might be strange to them that she and the King of Attwell didn’t seem like they wanted to murder each other. No, not each other. Like she wanted to murder him.

She gave him a nudge. “I expect you to go straight to your chamber after this. No fooling around with my maids.”

The King raised an eyebrow, seemingly amused. “What’s that? Is my baby dove jealous?”

She did a disgusted face. “I’d only stopped hating you for one second and you just had to ruin it. No, I don’t want them to think they’ve got a chance to become your mistress and my equal. That’s another rule for this marriage of ours. No mistresses. It’ll get too complicated.”

Most of the kings in history had taken mistresses. Y/N’s father and uncle had been the only ones she knew who’d had only one woman for the rest of his life.

Lance narrowed his eyes as he said, “Not fair if you get to fool around with Harry.”

“Harry and I are in love.”

“So when I fall in love with someone, I’m allowed to make her my mistress?”

“You’re allowed to see her behind my back. I won't have mistresses in my court.”

Lance stuck out his bottom lip. “I never thought one day I’d get to hear my betrothed say, ‘You’re allowed to see another woman behind my back.’”

“Aww,” Y/N said with feigned pity. “Did baby Lance really think he’d get to marry for love?”

Lance laughed drily and said nothing as he retrieved his goblet from her side of the table. She watched him finish the wine with one go and wave at a servant boy to pour him some more. Maybe she was just drunk, or maybe he seemed a bit wounded by her harmless joke.

Harry was just about to call for a servant when a lady’s skirt swept right past and obscured his view. Fluttering a fan in her hand, Jo smiled down at him, and he rolled his eyes and said, “I don’t want to dance with you.”

She shoved him aside and flopped down onto the seat beside him. “I wasn’t going to ask,” she said, her smile gone. “I don’t even want to touch you.”

He folded his arms on the table and arched an eyebrow at her. “It’s not my fault that I was born with male parts.”

She looked him up and down in a condescending manner. “Were you? Sometimes I really can’t tell.”

Harry rolled his eyes and turned his eyes back to the high table where Y/N and Lance were chatting. It was odd that they actually seemed to get along tonight. Harry knew the laughing was real because he could tell when his Peach faked it. He knew her too well, which was more a curse than a gift sometimes.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Jo asked. She was also glaring at the King and Queen.

“Hopefully not me,” he murmured.

She snapped her head to him. “What did you do?”

“I said something during the meeting and she got upset.”

“She’s the Queen, moron. You don’t get to speak to her like you sleep in her bed.”

“I do sleep in her bed–Ouch!”

Jo didn’t look at all guilty for hitting him with her fan. “You know what I meant. You don’t get to contradict her. That job belongs to her advisors. People already underestimate her abilities as a ruler, she can't have just anyone tell her what to do. ”

Harry already knew that, but when they were discussing the matter of her life and death, he could not just standby and regret it afterwards. Instead of admitting it to Jo, he sighed and changed the subject, “What are your thoughts on him?”

“You mean...do I trust him?” She shifted her gaze from Lance back to Harry, her forehead puckered. “The answer is no for both of you. Men, in general.”

“I’m serious,” he scoffed. “I think he’s got feelings for her. You should have seen his reaction to Y/N saying she’s going to the border tomorrow.”

“She’s going to the border tomorrow?!”

“Exactly.” Harry pointed a finger at Jo’s face. “That.”

“Well, she can’t go! She’ll get killed!”

“I’ve tried to convince her but...you know her.”

“Maybe she’ll listen to me,” Jo said.

“You cannot tell her, Jo. I don’t think I’m even allowed to talk about it to you.”

“Right, right.” Jo breathed out in frustration. To his surprise, she touched his arm, gently. “Promise me if something bad happens you'll protect her.”

“Of course,” Harry said. What he meant was, ‘I’ll try.’ Commander Joaquin had died in his arms, and he’d also tried to save the poor man. He’d have to try twice harder if they were ambushed again. This time, unlike the last, they knew what to expect.

“Lance will come with us, too,” he said, trying to sound hopeful. “He’ll also protect her.”

“I thought you didn’t trust him.”

“I don’t. In general.” Harry lifted his shoulders. “But I trust him to protect her.”

Jo’s jaw tightened as she rubbed the back of her neck and traced her fingertip around the rim of her goblet. “Come to think about it,” she began, “they’ve got a lot in common. He was always the black sheep of his family, never thought he’d fit in, was a rebel who travelled from place to place, murdered his own brother, and now at twenty years old, he’s ruling a kingdom on his own and his family’s dead. Sometimes I fear there are things about her that he can understand better than we’ll ever be able to.”

Through the dancing crowd, Harry caught Y/N’s eyes and returned a beam as she waved at him subtly. He forced himself not to think about what Jo had just said, but the last sentence kept lingering in his mind.

When the bell in the courtyard chimed twelve times at midnight, Y/N was sitting on the carpet in front of the fireplace, back against her bed. She was wearing a nightgown, her hair falling loose down to her back. She should have gone to sleep early so she could wake up before dawn, but instead, she sat there and watched the hypnotising flame licking at the wood. The door of her chamber creaked open at last, and a dark figure slipped inside. His footsteps were light, but she knew who he was the second she heard it.

She didn’t look until he’d sat down beside her, crossing his legs and leaning back against the foot of her bed. In the warm orange glow, his cheeks looked redder than she assumed they actually were. She could smell the wine wafting from his clothes, and he seemed to have noticed the tiredness in her eyes, because he stroked her cheekbone with his knuckles and asked, “Are you feeling well? Should I get a physician?”

“No, I’m fine.” She took his hand and held it with both of hers. “I just...I just want to talk to you,” she said. “And apologise for the way I reacted this morning.”

“You don’t have to apologise for anything.” Harry beamed at her. “I should apologise for crossing the lines. Sometimes I forgot that you’re a queen and I should love you like I should love a queen.”

“How do you love a queen?” she asked, teasingly.

He shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve never loved a queen before.”

“I can tell.” Her eyebrows wiggled and he snorted as she scooted closer and laid her head on his shoulder.

They were quiet for a long moment, and the only thing that told her he hadn’t fallen asleep was his tight grip on her fingers. “This reminds me of that night in the cave,” she said nonchalantly. “It was easier then, wasn’t it?”

“Peach,” he said with a light chuckle. “We nearly got lost, died in a snowstorm and froze to death.”

She felt her smile growing. “Still easier than this. It’s always easier when there’s just the two of us.”

There was a pause, and when he spoke, she could sense that his smile was gone. “You’re right. But as long as we’ve still got those memories, we can revisit them when things get rough.” Then he kissed the top of her head. “Now get some rest. We’re leaving early in the morning.”

She pulled back to look at him. “You’re not staying?”

“I can’t risk it. I might oversleep again,” he said with a hand at the back of her head. When he saw her frowning, his brows pinched together. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She could already feel her lip quivering as she clutched his fingers a bit too tight. “What if this is a terrible idea, Harry? What if I’m not...meant to be Queen?”

“Hey.” He cupped her face with both hands. “You are meant to be Queen. You’ve gone through a lot to be here. You deserve this.” As though he could read her thoughts of self-doubt, he schooled his face and went on, “I’ll tell you who you are in case you’ve forgotten. Your name is Y/N. First daughter of King Willem. The rightful heir to the throne. The rightful ruler of the high court of Isolde. The saviour in the prophecy. And most importantly, you’re my Peach, the love of my life. And whatever’s going to happen tomorrow, we’re going to be together and we’ll fight together just like we’ve done before. Whatever happens, I believe in you, all right?”

She mustered a smile and nodded once, reaching up to place her hands over his. He pulled her in for a passionate kiss and when he let go, she craved for more. She wanted to beg him to stay as he got to his feet and the nightmares crept back into her head like shadows waiting for the lights to go out so they could turn on you.

“I love you,” she blurted, sounding hopeless for a reason she could not explain.

Harry stopped at the door, turned around, and smiled. “I love you, too.”

Then he slipped through the gap and disappeared into the firelit corridor.

(end of chapter 1)

#harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfics #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #tctm series #princess!y/n #queen!y/n

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mcrninqstar · 3 years

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𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑡: 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑠

SUMMARY: Love is patient, love is kind…but love is also strong. Cupid gathers Lucifer, Levi, Zatanna, and Rachel together on Valentine’s Day to finally put an end to an awful curse placed upon Lucifer and Levi by God himself. TRIGGERS: Angst, Pain WRITTEN WITH: @ofcupidslove, @zztophat, @trigonsgem, @ofleviathcns, @mazikeenofmurders

CUPID, ZATANNA, LUCIFER: Cupid was nervous. She had all the ingredients and the back up that she needed, but this was the biggest expansion of her power and magic that she'd performed in well, ever. So many people were counting on her to get this right, and she didn't want to let them down. Belphegor had stopped by earlier to give her a pep talk and it really helped boost her confidence. They always believed in her when she didn't believe in herself. They had a lot of things planned for Cupid's birthday so she was excited to get the show on the road. Only, her confidence started waning a little bit as the preparation work for the spell dragged on for longer than she thought it would. Cupid glanced at her watch and then back at the bowl of ingredients she was mixing together.

"Hey," Zatanna nudged Cupid gently as she placed another bowl beside her. "We'll get you out of here as soon as we can," she promised the angel. It was Valentine's Day and Cupid's birthday. The magician was just as eager as the angel to push the spell forward. She and Michael had plans tonight. Their last date night had been crashed by his siblings. She was hoping this date night wouldn't be spoiled too.

Both Bells and Michael stopped by Cupid's greenhouse earlier in the day to provide some support and a few extra ingredients. After talking with Dean, Zee knew that Belphegor was planning a date night for themselves and Cupid. Planning was a rare thing for Bells and Zee knew Cupid didn't want to miss the date. She would do what she could to push the spell through, but the prep work that was required was extensive. Michael had brought in a few god artifacts that they had to dismantle and siphon power from. Even with Michael and Lucifer's help, siphoning all that power had taken more time than expected. They were finally reaching the end of the prep work and would be able to start the ritual soon.

"Are we ready?" Lucifer asked. He'd been a bit of a helicopter since the whole thing started. He wasn't sure what to do with himself or how he could help, but he wanted to help. He'd sent Maze back out to Los Angeles to keep an eye on Chloe during the ritual. He wasn't sure what kind of affect this would have on Chloe. More than anything, he wanted to give the Detective her free will back. If she chose not to come back to him, he would understand. And if she did come back to him, at least he would know the choice was hers and there was no god meddling to it. "Is there anything else you need?"

"I think..." Cupid glanced at the notes she'd written down for herself. "I think we're good. I, uh, I need you all to gather in that sigil over there." She pointed to the center of the greenhouse where a large sigil was drawn, in the middle of the sigil stood an alter. "Once you're in there, I'll need you three to drink this," she held up a flask full of potion that Zatanna helped her mix earlier. Lucifer took the offered flask and made his way over to the sigil in the middle of the room. After taking a swig of the potion (which was disgusting) he passed it off to his brother. "Bombs away, Levi."

LEVI: levi was ready for this whole thing to be fixed, being stuck in limbo like this had taken a toll on him and he could only imagine what it had been like for rachel. in an attempt to not cause her any extra pain he'd kept his distance, although he'd forgotten about the gifts and flowers he'd set up to be delivered to her... that had been an awkward conversation... but at least it was going to be coming to an end soon. since levi had been told that cupid was going to do her spell he'd been moving between being excited to finally have his angel back and worried that he'd really lose her this time. when he arrived at the greenhouse he'd kept to the fringes, speaking to lucifer occasionally and avoiding zatanna's glares. he didn't know if rachel wanted to speak to him but anytime their eyes met he'd give her a smile, letting her have the choice in speaking to him or not. hearing that it was ready he followed lucifer to the sigil and took the flask from him, taking a drink of it before grimacing at the flavour "angel- i mean, here rachel." he smiled awkwardly before offering her the potion

RACHEL: Rachel was beyond ready for this to be fix, she couldn't count how many times she'd almost let her rage get the best of her lately, talking to Zatanna helped but part of her knew that things would never be fixed unless this curse was gone. She felt it each away at her every single day something seemed to remind her of Levi which was almost too easy these days. It was like she was always fighting with herself when it came to being around Levi seeing how he wore his pain on his face she could see how much he wanted this curse broken yet at the same time she noticed his worry of losing her forever because that was always a possibility something Zatanna and her talked about in great lengths. She gave Zee a softly smile as she moved towards the sigil following Cupid's request she always hated this day especially given how lovely everyone always acted around this day made her sick. She could felt Lucifer's pain and Levi's nervousness when she got closer to them smiling softly at her once boyfriend. "I don't mind you calling me angel, snake charmer" She replied softly taking the potions downing the rest of it without issue before turning her attention towards Cupid.

CUPID, ZATANNA, LUCIFER: Cupid took a deep breath to steady herself as everyone made their way over to the sigils and drank the nasty, icky potion she spent three hours working on. She had to get this right. If she was able to break this spell, then that meant there was hope for breaking Belphegor's curse too. It meant that there was hope that they could undo what God did. "Can you draw this mark on everyone's palm?" Cupid asked Zatanna as she tapped on the piece of paper to show her the drawing. The magician nodded and obliged, taking care to draw the symbol on each individual's palm before making her way over to the alter in the middle of the sigil.

Cupid entered the sigil moments later and a shift in power happened. It was like a vacuum sucked the air in around them. They could all see Cupid's halo now, its shine almost blinding. "Sorry," Cupid apologized to them all as she tried to steady herself. The flow of power was nauseating. "The markings on your palm sort of act as a power share." Two fallen archangels, a half demon, a magician, and a whole bunch of God artifacts they'd siphoned power from. If this wasn't enough magic to break through a God curse, Cupid didn't know what would be. Her current form couldn't handle much more power. She made her way to the alter, holding onto it to steady herself.

"I don't know what the cosmic consequences of this spell will be," she admitted. "I don't know if it will hurt or not." The literature wasn't very clear on that. "But there is one thing you three need to know. If I break this spell, God will know. He'll feel it, just as you feel it." These curses were as much a part of God as anything else. "There's a risk he could come back..." she glanced up at Lucifer, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Then that's a risk we'll have to take," Lucifer replied. What was one more fight for free will anyway? Maybe this time when God showed up, Lucifer and Michael would be on the same side for once. Or maybe Lucifer was just being hopeful. He didn't care either way. He wanted his freedom back; he wanted those around him to have the right to choose to be around him. What was love, power, and devotion if not a choice of free will? "Go on, dove," he encouraged Cupid. "Give the old man a good old fuck you for us. He deserves it after everything he's done. What do you need us to do?"

Cupid let out a sigh of relief as Lucifer agreed to the consequences. She didn't want to be the one to make that choice. She didn't want to be the one to potentially call God here. But the devil gave her permission and she was going for it. "One fuck you, coming right up," she nodded. "If you could all please link hands...let's get this started."

LEVI: he smiled softly at rachel at least she doesn't seem to completely hate me he thought to himself "well, who am i to deny you what you want angel." levi winked at her before turning to face cupid "i agree with goose, let him come." his tone was steely and if anyone read his thoughts they'd get a peek at how furious levi was with his father, not only for what he'd done to him and rachel, but for what he'd done to bells... levi had plenty of things to work through with god. part of him was still worried about what this would do to rachel, levi didn't want her to go through any more pain but he knew she wanted to be in charge of her own choices and feelings so he'd do what he could to ease any pain she had to go through. "make him suffer." he held his hand out to lucifer before reaching over to rachel with his other hand "whatever it takes... right angel?"

RACHEL: She gave Levi a soft smile that didn't reach her eyes, she struggled to be happy lately, before turning to cupid taking a deep breath to calm her rage at the mere mention of the name. "I'd make you all orphans in a matter of seconds, so best crack on with this." She replied a heat behind her voice she hardly ever used before watching the other. She could keep her cool, her years of meditation had helped her growing up and she wasn't about to mess anything up or though it off the spell. She sighed turning back to Lucifer and Levi taking both of their hands feeling butterflies swim around her stomach wishing this would finish quickly without too much pain but she could take anything thrown at her, she won't be controlled anymore by anyone. "Whatever it takes." she nodded her head at Levi taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.

CUPID, ZATANNA, LUCIFER: "I dunno about making him suffer," Cupid chuckled. "I'm strong, but not that strong." Even Rachel's threat of making them orphans was overstated. "But I can certainly knock him down a peg or two." As the three affected individuals connected hands another wave of energy swept through the building. Cupid nodded to Zatanna and anointed the magician's hands and then her own with a sort of herbal mixture. The two linked hands at the center of the alter.

The angel took a deep breath and the pair began to recite a spell in unison. "Amor animi ex amore et ex animo, et animarum illorum iam semet explicare." The wind around them picked up as Cupid and Zatanna chanted love from love and mind from mind, let their souls now unwind. The alter below their hands began to glow as if something divine was forming beneath them. Cupid smiled to herself, momentarily surprised that the spell was working. "Venite et partem animae, ut sit amor sui." The angel chanced a glance over at the party of three. She could see the outline of a red string forming around each of them. Levi and Rachel's met somewhere in the middle and Lucifer's continued onward for what seemed like forever, connecting him all the way to Chloe back in Los Angeles.

Cupid continued the chant and the glow from the alter crawled up her arm until her whole body was now glowing too. The wind was picking up speed, knocking the plans in the greenhouse all around like a mini tornado, but the effects of this tornado weren't felt inside the protective circle. As long as everyone stayed inside the circle, they would be unharmed. The same could not be said for her plants. Even the forever flowers were suffering. Cupid herself felt like she was being battered around as she continued the spell. Her energy was waning as she poured everything she had into this. "Ne liberi amore sit, non est in vincula! she finished, gasping as she let go of Zatanna's hands.

The glow around Cupid quickly receded back into the alter. As her eyes adjusted, she smiled. Sitting there on the alter was a pair of golden scissors that hadn't been there before. "Holy shit..." she grinned.

"Is that a holy shit it worked? Or holy shit we're in trouble?" Lucifer asked, as he glanced over his shoulder at Cupid. Based on the level of destruction outside the protective circle, he hoped it was the former and not the latter. Even with all the divine power given to them, he could see Cupid and Zatanna were in rough shape. They wouldn't be able to do this again.

"It worked," Cupid smiled as she leaned over the alter and took a shaky breath. Zatanna came over to steady her, but the magician was just as shaky. They'd both expanded so much energy into the spell, but Cupid knew the work wasn't done. "I'm okay," she assured Zatanna. The angel of love grabbed the Golden Scissors off the alter and made her way over to the trio. "The strings here..." she indicated. "They're called Red Strings of Fate. In order to free you, I have to cut them. I dunno what it's gonna feel like, but odds are its going to be unpleasant. So...that being said, who wants to go first?"

LEVI: when cupid and zatanna began the spell levi kept glancing over at rachel. he trusted the pair to be able to manage the spell, he'd gone on more than one expedition to fetch powerful objects at zatanna's behest so he knew that cupid had enough power to channel... so he couldn't help but worry about rachel not that he would ever not worry. when cupid finished the spell levi looked down, seeing the string between himself and rachel before looking back to cupid as she held the scissors "not that i don't trust you dear, cause i do, but i really hope those three sisters don't show up... they're a little upset with me after a party in athens." he chuckled before looking to rachel "well angel, shall we bite the bullet or let the silly goose go first."

RACHEL: Looked at the at everyone this ritual so far had gone well, she trusted Cupid to know what she was doing and even so the curse affect her realm if anyone could break it, she knew it was her. Part of her was shocked to see the red line come between her and Levi, she'd read many stories that talked about the red line of fate that linked people together and it always sounded so romantic but right now it was something that could be forcing her to love Levi something she hatred with a passion. "I'm not surprised your brilliant both of you" She looked at Zatanna and Cupid nodding her head before turning back towards Levi as Cupid came over towards them with the scissors shaking her head at Levi's silliness "I don't mind going first I'm sure everyone in this room wants this over as soon as possible." She took a breath squeezing Levi's hand for a moment before using her powers to send him a telepathic message. No matter what, hanging out with you has been a highlight these last couple months. You are worth everything in my eyes Levitation, try not to hate me on the other side of this. She mused staring at him giving his hand yet another squeeze. "Any advice about what will happen when these get cut?" She asked Cupid softly

CUPID, ZATANNA, LUCIFER: "Ah, your reputation proceeds you, Levi. Whatcha do? Sleep with them and then not call?" Cupid teased as she held the scissors. She felt a brief surge of power wave through her that she really couldn't control. The scissors in her hands shifted form and became a pair of daggers, then a saw, then a sword, before going back to their scissor form. Shit. She swallowed hard. Gotta stay stable. Deep breaths. Don't fuck this up.

"Cupid..." Lucifer called to her gently. They had visible threads but Cupid was hanging on by a string of her own. If she pushed too far...well, let's just say Lucifer would rather be damned for the rest of his life than deal with the aftermath of a dead Cupid.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she assured him. She stood tall and as self-assured as she could. Lucifer nodded, and pressed a button on the ear piece he had with him. It connected him to Maze who was in LA with Chloe. He was relieved that it was still functioning despite all the power radiating in the air. He figured it was due to the safety sigils they'd drawn around themselves and the alter. "Alright, Mazikeen. The red strings should be visible now. We're on the final step. Keep me posted," he requested.

"The lore wasn't specific about what's going to happen when I cut this string," Cupid explained apologetically to Rachel. "Whatever you do, stay in the protective wardings until I lift them," she instructed. She wished she could give Rachel more guidance on what was about to happen especially since she was the victim here. Forced to love Levi, what a tragedy. Cupid was still pissed at Levi for how long he kept this from Rachel. He'd come to Cupid for confirmation after Aamon's banishment and yet still at the Masquerade six months later, it seemed like Rachel was none the wiser about forced affection toward him. He hadn't told her until he'd come back from hell...almost 7 months since his suspicions of the curse first arose.

She took a deep breath and held Levi and Rachel's string. She felt the power radiating off of that string. Cupid nodded to Zatanna who was back at the alter now. The magician read off a line of text from Cupid's notes. The red color in the strings slowly started fading to pink. It all seemed to be draining into Cupid. Once the string was a stark white, Cupid brought the Gold Scissors forward with a shaky hand, she took a deep breath in, and on the exhale, she cut Levi and Rachel's string, releasing them from their bond to each other.

Cupid felt weak and nauseous and had to act fast. She looked over at Lucifer who'd been momentarily distracted by the pair's reaction to the cutting of the string, but then he turned to meet Cupid's gaze. It was now or never. He nodded quickly to Cupid. The angel grasped Lucifer and Chloe's string and watched the red color fade rapidly. Once it was a pristine white, Cupid brought the scissors down once more and cut Lucifer's string, freeing the devil from his binds.

RACHEL: She took a deep breath, she could feel her apprehension at finally ending this curse it didn't matter what happened so long as she was in control again. Rae hated feeling this way she couldn't even know her own mind linked to Levi like this, why couldn't anything in her life be simply. She kept her eyes on Cupid very thankful they'd been able to find a way to break the curse but even she could see the amount of power this was taking from Zatanna and Cupid combined. "I understand Cupid its okay, I can bare whatever happened so long as this works" he replied honestly giving the other a soft smile before taking yet another breath when she felt a tug as the other pulled on their string. Everything started to heat up as the the string turned from red to white but she could handle it, whatever was happening it simply was just a reaction to what was going on during the ritual.

When she felt the string cut she couldn't stop the scream of pain the fell from her lips as she doubled over gripping Lucifer's and Levi's hands tighter then normal. Her blood felt like it was one fire, almost as if a fever had taken over her body as punishment for daring to end the tie that God himself put there when she was born. She could feel spasms of pain shaking her cord as she tried hard to stay within the protect circle and not to hurt the others in there with her. She looked up at Lucifer sure there was worry written all over his face "its receding...she'l be okay...." She spoke taking deep breaths staying bent over on her knees just for a moment to catch her breath.

LEVI: as cupid worked her magic levi had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. being away from rachel like this had made him realise that it wasn't just her affected by the curse. levi had been shrugging off his duties and responsibilities because since meeting her his angel had been the only important thing to him... he'd been acting more and more like his father and levi hated that with every fibre of his being. he'd stopped talking to his family as much and had been putting off telling her about the curse, levi hated everything about how this had changed him and he'd started to become the one thing he didn't want to be.

when rachel's grip tightened on his hand he looked down at her, worry all over his features. he dropped lucifer's hand and knelt beside her, helping support her as the magic worked it's way through her. "i got you angel." he whispered to her. if he could, levi would take as much of the pain from her as he could but he'd promised her that he wouldn't do that so he just held her through it. he himself could feel the spell working through his mind, feeling ties he didn't even know were there burn away and the fog lifting from his consciousness. "i'm so sorry you have to go through this. i never meant for any of this to happen." he knew after this he had to go back to hell and let rachel be herself, as much as he wanted to stay he couldn't.

MAZIKEEN: This was a tense night for all of them, but Maze was glad to not be in the same room where they were trying to break the curse. She was just following Chloe from a distance, keeping out of Chloe's sight, but making sure Chloe stayed in hers. It was mostly boring stuff, but it was still important. She perked up a little when the bluetooth device in her ear beeped. She pressed a button, and it connected her back to Lucifer. "I see it," she told him. For now, it looked like Chloe didn't notice the red string attached to her, which was good. Chloe was focused on picking out groceries. She had no idea what was coming for her as Cupid cut the string connecting Lucifer and Chloe.

Chloe dropped what she was holding and screamed in pain. Maze rushed to her side. Chloe had fallen to the ground, and Maze was kneeling down with her, holding her hand. "Hey, I've got you," she said reassuringly.

"Maze?" Chloe asked. "What the hell are-" She clutched her own body with her other free hand as she remembered the pain she was in.

"Lucifer's working on breaking the curse you're under. It'll be okay soon." The pain was a lot for her, which had been obvious just by what Maze had heard from Rachel, but Chloe didn't have the fortune of being part demon. She was all human, and humans were so fragile. The pain became unbearable for her, and even after it stopped, she passed out. Maze checked her pulse, and she seemed fine. Maze guessed that she'd passed out more from fear than from pain. She'd be fine with a little sleep. Maze picked her up and slung her over her shoulder before talking into the bluetooth again. "Chloe's okay. She's just taking a little nap now. I'll take her back to where she's staying and watch over her over the night to make sure she's still okay. How are things on your end, Lucifer? Are you okay?" She didn't like the idea of him going through the same thing, but he was an archangel. He was probably fine.

CUPID, ZATANNA, LUCIFER: Zatanna and Cupid flinched in unison when Rachel screamed, but Lucifer didn't have time to react before Cupid was already cutting his string. He felt a burning in his core as if ties were rapidly stripped away. It didn't hurt necessarily, but it didn't feel good either. He felt naked. Not in your usual Tuesday orgy kind of way, but in a vulnerable kind of way.

He flinched when he heard Chloe's screams of agony on the other end of the line. He couldn't be there with her to check in on her and comfort her as Levi was doing for Rachel now, but he trusted Maze. Then the screaming stopped and his heart dropped to his stomach. He let out a sigh of relief when Maze replied that Chloe was okay. She must've just passed out from the pain. Lucifer himself was surprised Rachel was still standing, but she was part demon so that gave her some advantage. "We're okay..." he replied hesitantly to Maze. He looked around at Rachel and Levi for confirmation. They both seemed okay, but Lucifer didn't know if there would be after shocks.

Zatanna knelt down beside Rachel who looked pale and gaunt but was otherwise still breathing. Zee muttered a quick healing spell before nodding to Cupid to finish off the spell. Cupid returned to the alter and took a deep breath. She felt absolutely electrified and not in a good way. The curse was broken but a lot of the residual energy from it still hung within Cupid and she needed to dump it all somewhere. This meant she had to create a cursed object. She picked up one of the large, stuffed teddy bears that were commonly sold during this season and placed him on the alter. "Sorry, Teddy Roosevelt. This hurts me as much as it hurts you." Cupid placed her hands on the alter on each side of the bear. Cupid began to glow once more, this time a light pink. The pink glow drained out of her and into the teddy bear. Once the light completely disappeared, Cupid lost consciousness and dropped to the floor beside the alter.

Lucifer ran over to Cupid to check on her. She was still breathing, but she was weak. The final part of the spell had taken everything out of her. Lucifer glanced at the teddy bear and then back at Zatanna. "Don't touch the bear," she ordered. She walked over to the alter and put on a pair of enchanted gloves. They would keep her safe while handling the bear. Gingerly, she picked it up and placed it inside one of her top hats. She would be able to take it to Michael and have him destroy the remaining energy. "Is she okay?" Zee asked Lucifer as she glanced at Cupid.

"Physically, yes? Emotionally...she's about to miss her date." Lucifer used whatever strength he could muster (which wasn't much at this point, he was beyond exhausted) to pick Cupid up off the ground. "If you lift the protection wardings, I can get her back to Belphegor's place."

Zatanna nodded. "Alright, kids. Brace yourselves." Zatanna took a deep breath and held out her hand. Her eyes began to glow a soft blue as the sigils on the ground burned away. It felt like a bubble had burst around them the moment the wardings were lifted. The entire greenhouse was cluttered and in disarray as if a storm had blown through it while they were doing the spell. Zatanna staggered backward, but grabbed onto Lucifer's shoulder for support. She herself felt very weak now that the wardings were lifted.

"Not to be the bear of bad news, Ms. Zatara, but I think you're about to miss your date too. Levi..." Lucifer looked over his shoulder at his brother. "Can you get Ms. Zatara and Ms. Roth home or would you like me to call one of my demons?"

RACHEL: Rachel heard Chloe scream almost in time with her voice she wasn't sure why she was still standing if anything she blamed her demon half, this took so much out of her she felt tired and weak. She barely register Levi or Zatanna coming down to her. She all but clung to Levi not trusting her legs or body to support her weight after what she'd been through. She watched the rest of things through a haze of tiredness laying her head on Levi's chest "its better this way" She whispered back feeling her head clean through the love haze that used to be there, it was a good thing this pain, it would help her in the long run.

Her eyes snapped open when she felt and heard the sigils began to burn away freeing them at long last, everything seemed different now but she could see how tired everyone in the room was moving to grab Zatanna's hand pulling her close to Levi and herself. "I'm sorry You both missed your dates for us, I really do appreciate everything you've both done." She replied honestly turning an eye to Levi "I'd prefer if you took us...if you aren't too busy Levi....I don't wish to show my weakness to unknown demons.." She asked before shooting a wincing look at Lucifer "No Offense intend"

LEVI: he nodded "just hold on to that angel. it'll pass." levi kept rubbing soothing circles on her back as she worked through it. he looked over his shoulder at his brother meeting his eyes and giving him a nod that he was alright... well as alright as he could be given the circumstances. i'm going home after this... rachel needs to be herself without me around. levi thought to lucifer, not wanting to break the news to rachel with everyone around.

"i have nothing but time for you angel, i'd be happy to get you and ms. zatara home." he smiled softly at her before standing up and holding out his hand to help her up as well as offering one to zatanna "if she doesn't mind that is." levi joked and turned back to lucifer "i'll make sure they get home safe and sound. tell bells i'm sorry for stealing cupid away from their date."

CUPID, ZATANNA, LUCIFER: Lucifer nodded at Levi's message. He understood where his brother was coming from. He hoped for Levi's sake he didn't stay in hell for too long. It was easy to stay down there and try to ignore the impact of all of this. While the curse made Lucifer weary of all of his connections potentially being coercive, it had a different impact on Levi. It made him hyper focused on his relationship to the point where he forgot everyone else. Going to hell wouldn't fix the isolation he'd caused himself. It would just make things worse. When the dust settled, Lucifer would go down to hell and try to talk him out of it.

Zatanna was disappointed she'd miss her date, but she didn't have energy for much else. Despite her exhaustion, she could see the resolute look on Levi's face. He wasn't coming back. That in and of itself was going to hurt Rachel in the coming days. "You can drop me off first," she told Levi as she took his hand. "You and Rachel probably need to talk." If he really was leaving, she wasn't going to let him just ghost Rachel. He needed to tell her he was going and Zatanna knew he needed to do that with some sense of privacy.

"Safe travels," Lucifer nodded to the three of them. He watched as Levi teleported himself, Rachel, and Zatanna out of the greenhouse. Lucifer stood with Cupid in his arms for a moment as he looked around the mess they'd created. "I'm sorry, Cups," he replied as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. He knew she couldn't hear him but he really was sorry. Not just about the condition of her greenhouse or her missed date, but about everything that had happened since she found about about Belphegor's void. The trauma was fresh for everyone in those days and the change in Cupid was gradual. He'd watched her innocence and softness disappear slowly as a result of Belphegor's curse. "We'll fix it," he promised. And with that, he teleported out of the greenhouse and took her back to Belphegor's apartment. / END

#╰☆☆ now tell me what is it you truly desire? | replies ☆☆╮#cupid: discords #zatanna: discords #rachel: discords #levi: discords #maze: discords #mazik #╰☆☆ it's you. it's always been you | mazikeen ☆☆╮

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