#[ and if the illusion of being were to crumble you would shatter and be lost because theres nothing to fall back on

[blaire-apricity]

Hi! I just read your story Grief, on how the LnDs guys would react to us disappearing from their lives. It was so good, I was just wondering if you’d be willing to make a second part to it. Like how the boys would react to finding us, or something?

Found

ʟᴀᴅs ʙᴏʏs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ synopsis┆ : How does the LADS boys react if they found you?

ᯓ❅ ┆ tags┆ : prompt, soft, fluff, comfort & possible OOC

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𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫

You were more than just his Queen—you were his beacon, his anchor in a world that had nearly torn him apart. The moment he saw you again, the overwhelming relief nearly brought him to his knees. He had lost you once, a wound he carried with him every day, and he couldn’t bear the thought of facing that agony again. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, seeped into him after searching for you for so long. All of his strength seemed to drain away, but not before he pulled you close, wrapping you in a fierce embrace, his knees hitting the ground as you struggled to hold up the weight of your bodies. He pressed his face into your hair, breathing you in, your scent embedding itself in his memory. He held you like you were the only thing tethering him to this world, refusing to let go, afraid that if he did, you would vanish again.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

You had never seen Zayne like this before, his icy, composed demeanor crumbling right before your eyes. His lips trembled; his brows furrowed in uncharacteristic vulnerability when he finally saw you. You barely had the chance to explain before he pulled you into his arms, holding you with a desperation you had never felt from him. His chest heaved against yours, each breath heavy and ragged as if he were on the verge of breaking down. The walls he had carefully built to shield himself from the world, from his pain, had melted away. His apology was barely a whisper, raw and aching, full of guilt for not being there, for failing to protect you. He had carried the weight of your disappearance alone, hiding his grief behind a mask of stoicism, but now that you were back, he didn’t need to pretend anymore. With you, he could let his guard down, the burden finally lifted.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

At first, he thought he was hallucinating—he had been haunted by your memory for so long that seeing you now felt like another cruel trick. Your disappearance had shattered him, leaving his heart fractured, half of it missing wherever you had gone. But when you softly whispered his name, that familiar voice pulling him out of the darkness, he didn’t care about anything else. He collapsed against you, his arms locking around your waist, pressing his face into your chest as if trying to merge with you, to make sure you were real. Even if this was just another illusion, he wouldn’t care—he would gladly live in this dream if it meant keeping you close. When you wrapped your arms around him in return, his whole body seemed to melt. You could feel the wetness soaking into your shirt, and though he made no sound, you knew he was crying. You were his lifeline, the only thing that had kept him going, and now that you were back, he wasn’t sure if he could ever let go.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬

The fire of rage that had consumed Sylus, that made him lash out at everything and everyone around him, flickered and died the moment he saw you. You were the calm to his storm, the one force that could soothe the fury burning inside him. The rage that could’ve razed the world to ashes was extinguished in an instant. He didn’t care if his subordinates saw him like this—his vulnerability exposed for all to witness. All that mattered was you, here, in his arms again. His embrace was fierce, almost desperate, like he was afraid that if he let go, the storm would rage once more. Now that you were back, there was no way he’d let you out of his sight again. His protectiveness might even turn into possessiveness, and he wouldn’t mind one bit, as long as it meant keeping you safe from harm. You were the only thing grounding him, the only thing that mattered, and he would fight the entire world to protect you.

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╰｡ Author's Note: Preliminaries has finished last week, I'm quite free this week so I decided ahead and made another one of the requested fictions. Technically you don't need to read Grief to have a grasp in this one but nevertheless, thank you for requesting it! I hope you enjoy it as well~

[bau-drabbles]

I would love to see anything with Reid! Maybe a breakup? 😊💗

thank you, hope you enjoy babe 🤍

only 1

"Enough Spencer! Is this what we've become? Screaming at each other to get the final word in?" You leaned back against the counter tops, blood roaring over your ears as your heartbeat tries to get back to its normal pace. It feels as though you ran a million miles, the pain coursing through your veins like wildfire. Stopping the tears felt so difficult, they were held by a barricade that was slowly cracking with every passing moment as he stood opposite to you.

A montage made of the sweetest poison plays in your mind, all those moments you had felt so utterly in love and happy feel so distant and daze like. It felt like it had all been an illusion, a facade while the cracks had festered beneath. There would be no more mending or fixing, now.

This was it.

"Oh Y/N..." He sniffled quietly, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. His hands ached to hold you but he knew you needed space for the moment, all he could do was to watch your sweet face crumble in pain and it bought immeasurable pain to him. How could things go so wrong?

You're silent as you wipe the tears away with your fingers, trying to compose yourself to the best of your ability. But every second here feels like a stab to your heart, the person you loved more than anything in the world wasn't what you made him out to be.

"Is this what we've become?" Your voice was caught in your throat, arms wrapped tightly around you trying to keep yourself strong.

You would not break in front of him here but god knows how you would crumble and shatter in the privacy of your home. How you would sob and cry uncontrollably until you couldn't breathe, how piece by piece of you would fall until the person before you in the mirror was unrecognisable. And it scared you how much you had lost yourself in this love, in him.

He treads carefully to you, his eyes shining with his tears. Holding your hand as though it is the most precious thing, his thumb strokes your knuckles tenderly. It's the only thing be can think of, having done it before so many times mindlessly but holding your hand felt like a privilege. But he was on a time limit, for after tonight the thought of you being with him was nothing more than a memory. A sweet one he would play countlessly for days to come.

Your hand is on his cheek, eyes watering as his followed suit. Your finger gently brushes against his stubbled cheeks, trying to memorise every beautiful feature you'd come to love. You could see his reluctance to let you go, his eyes swimming with hesitance. But you remind yourself that time you would not melt back in his embrace and carry on false front anymore. This time you would have done what needed to be done before.

"You know I love you but you make me so..... sad" It hurts to even finish the sentence, he was always your safe place. Anytime you were in distress, he would be there helping you through it. Never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined him being the cause for your misery.

Yet still it doesn't stop how you melt into him for a moment. Your hands were a feather touch on his body, smoothing his tie down. It reminded him of fond memories and he allowed himself to play into the fantasy, even if it meant being flooded with heartbreak once it ended.

His lips gently brush against your forehead, a tear dropping from his eyes onto his cheeks. It's a small gesture but he hopes you can sense how much he loves you, how the flames of his love will forever burn for you. He holds your hand against his cheek, both of you gazing at one another with love but acceptance that there probably could never be a relationship between the two of you again.

Maybe in a few years you would be able to look back on this rather fondly that you loved a certain Dr Reid who couldn't be yours. But here, in this moment as his cheek fell against your palm, you knew deep down in your heart it would pain like a thousands suns once you left today.

i can't be your only 1

[ardenssolis]

@soverina said (inbox):

from the moment he’d come into sight, an unbearable weight lifted from wearied body; and mind, liberated of anxiety’s unmercifully prison. the second she was able to confirm for herself that ozymandias was in fact alive, composure begun to crack and crumble like a brick wall. for the sake of everyone, the queen maintained remarkable strength and grace in light of news that their king and his men had found themselves confronted by opposing forces during their travels. days of not knowing what outcome may have found them — whether husband was hurt or even still breathing — had easily become one of the most torturous experiences of her life. sleep never came; instead, laying awake at night, hoping and praying that personal attendant might come running through bedroom doors, sharing news of his well-being ( anything to ease worries that grew with each passing day ). finally clearing the large space that separated them both, she sprints forward, pushing and squeezing past a group of any worried servants, family members, and acquaintances that crowded him. all were joyful and, some, quite emotional, but none more so than the velenosian woman, who lets guard down in a moment of vulnerable relief. arms immediately throw themselves around husband, face burying into sinewy torso. she cares not for the scene she makes or lack of poise; she simply holds tighter — releasing the breath she’d felt like she’d been holding in since hearing of the attack. soon, tears trickle down rosy cheeks, slender shoulders trembling until whimpering seeps past plush lips, “ …you’re okay… ” sniffled statement was not a reflection of how capable the woman thought her king was, but instead influenced by a natural fear of loss that came with caring so deeply for someone. “ …you’re really… you’re okay… ” hands migrate from back, now curling against his chest; and finally, she breaks. for the first time, she’ll cry in front of him, perhaps even shattering any illusions that she was brave enough to get past something like this — but was not. not for this. the thought that she might’ve lost him was terrifying and lonely. incredibly lonely. “ …oh god, i was so scared…!! i didn’t know what to do….!! ” she wept ( it wouldn’t stop ), “ …i swear, if y-you had kept me waiting another day longer i was going to go find you myself…!! i was ready to rain hell on those who tried to hurt you…!! ”

     IT WAS NOT ABNORMAL to have to deal with occasional issues near the border due to skirmishes or bandits deeming it a safe location to settle themselves down. Most of these issues were minor and could be cleared up with hardly so much as a wave of the hand and a few guards. However, Ozymandias hadn’t expected to be attacked so brazenly on a well-known and well guarded trail by bandits of all things. Never would they ever do something so utterly foolish when the ramifications for failure outweighed the benefits. Whether it was desperation or something more that made them target a king of all things, in the end, they had all fled with tails between their legs – no doubt going into hiding now that their plans had all fallen apart. He’d hunt them down, of course. Already he had his elite tracking where they had gone and would eventually have them brought in for interrogation… For now, however, that would have to be a thought for another day. Ozymandias’ injuries were superficial at best, but the healers refused to release him from their watchful gazes until they were all one hundred percent sure that all was well.

     Shifting a bit upon the bed, he touched his bandaged arm for a moment, the ache dull due to the medicine in his veins to kill what pain and discomfort he might have suffered from. After a few exchanged words with the young woman who had been tending to him, she eventually deemed it fine for him to have a couple visitors as long as they didn’t crowd. The very moment that it was announced, he already knew who the first person to barge through those doors would be. So, upon seeing that familiar face, his lips curled into a small smile as he gestured for her to step closer. Instantly arms wrapped around him, a soft groan escaping his lips, although he did hope that it wasn’t heard. ❝Yes, I am fine,❞ he replied to Peach’s soft whisper. Lifting his arm, he gently wrapped it about her to hold her form closer, the scents of flowers drifting over him and nearly making the Sun King close his eyes just so he could be further lulled by both Peach’s warmth and her scent.

     ❝Forgive me for making you worry.❞ He held her tighter, his cheek rubbing against the top of her head as a means of further soothing away the anxiety that he knew had stabbed at her heart for days on end. ❝I should have had that road looked over again.❞ No…that wasn’t quite it. It had been scouted as were any paths that a king such as himself might tread. The whole thing was oddly suspicious, but he would talk to his Vizier about it all later and then meet with his officials. There was much to discuss going forward. After all, he could not – would not – allow this to transpire again. His lips curled into a smile at Peach’s latter words, soft laughter ruffling her hair just a little. ❝Oh, I have no doubt you would have sent those bandits running for the hills! I certainly would have gone running myself in their shoes.❞ Nuzzling her once more, he pulled back just a little. ❝Healers can be dreadfully stubborn in my lands. You tell them you are fine, and they put you under observation anyway.❞

     That was fine. They were doing their job and he did not fault them for it…even if…being in here was a miserable experience wrought of intense boredom where the mind could run wild. All his teasing side… ❝Death will not claim me yet, and it will not until the very end of my days. This I promise you.❞ Ozymandias fully intended to keep that promise come what may.

[angeldcgs]

the full brevity of just how inappropriate their actions were had yet to truly hit faye. it was wrong to kiss her boyfriend's best friend, regardless of their current relationship issues, but she didn't even consider how the timing of it all only added to how wrong it was. had she not been so emotionally distraught after witnessing daniel cheating on her for the umpteenth time, she would've never allowed herself to give into her urges like this— she would've known better. but was it common sense, or was it her naive, unwavering allegiance to a man who didn't deserve even a scrap of her loyalty? was it really so wrong to do what felt good, no matter how selfish, just this once? and then there was theo's involvement in it all. he could excuse his actions on whatever elicit substances he'd consumed that night— it was a party, after all— but he was still in his right mind, or, at least, more so than faye was. he should've known better, should've been the one to put a stop to things, and yet, he allowed her to lunge for him and kiss him with fervor. all she could really focus on was the comfort of a warm body pressed against hers, the excitement of having her advances reciprocated, and eventual embarrassment once she'd pulled away and realized just what she'd done. still, the full gravity didn't hit; she was more worried that she'd forced herself on him, or that he wasn't interested in her in that way than anything else. he quickly soothed her anxiety, offering gentle reassurance so as to not scare her off, which she took to immediately. the way she perked up so soon after being offered such simple comfort was almost pathetic, able to actually sustain eye contact with him for longer than a few seconds at a time. a soft, uncontrollable giggle slipped out as he kissed away the last few remaining tear drops on her cheeks, feeling so delightfully warmed by her desire for theo in that moment. it wasn't an all-consuming, uncontrollable blazing inferno, but a comforting bonfire she could gather around to melt the block of ice left in her chest from witnessing daniel's infidelity. her palms rested just above his knees as he kissed her, leaning on him for stability, and she was glad for that support once his lips found hers once again. one hand remained pressed against his thigh while the other lifted to cup his jaw, just barely holding him to her and letting out a contented hum against his lips. she'd lost track of how long they'd been sat there on the floor of a stranger's bathroom, whether it'd been just a few minutes or closer to an hour, but she'd be perfectly content just sitting there with him all night, sharing sweet kisses and kind words. the thought of getting up to leave frightened her, like she and theo could only exist as they were within the sanctity of that bathroom, and once they left, the fantasy would crumble. she'd just begun to deepen the kiss, parting her lips slightly, almost too shy to take anything further than they'd already gone, but it seemed she didn't even have to worry about going too far. this time, it wasn't her who put a stop to the kiss, instead being rudely interrupted by a fist pounding on the door, a familiar voice bellowing out from the other side. "faye?" daniel called out, and she jumped back from theo as if she'd been dealt an electric shock. "c'mon, i know you're in there. open the fuckin' door..." her eyes went wide and frantic as he jiggled the doorknob— thankfully locked— glancing between the door and theo with the feeling of panic rising like bile in her throat. just like that, the illusion was shattered, and she came plummeting down to earth just to splat against the pavement. "don't be like this, lemme fuckin' talk to you."

even with his less-than-pure intentions for dragging faye away from the party, theo had to admit that kissing her right then and there wasn't his brightest idea; which was why he was glad that she had been the one to make the first move. not that it would matter to anyone who found out, least of all daniel but it made him feel a little better about his own sense of responsibility. he should've pulled away, at least then he'd have plausible deniability about his feelings and could wait a couple of days before trying to tell faye how he felt but as soon as her soft lips were against his, all bets were off. theo let her cling to him as hard as she needed to while he held her with a softer touch, like the delicate, precious thing that she was. daniel had been treating her wrong in more ways than one, neglecting her, obviously, but showering her with coarse attention when his attention managed to focus. faye was a quiet, tamed thing, though easily spooked and it didn't take a genius to see that all she really wanted was for someone to appreciate her. how her boyfriend had failed to do that for so long, theo didn't know but he was willing to do whatever it took to have faye to himself. there were plenty of other girls who would've been easier to pursue but theo couldn't let go of something once he decided he needed it, he was protective and strangely possessive for someone who came across as so easygoing. before he had time to truly enjoy the sensation of faye's lips against his often, she was pulling away and theo followed after her without realising he was doing so. it was faye's gentle sniffling that brought him back to reality, his eyes fluttering open to then quickly scan over her once again tear-stained face. "don't apologize." theo was quick to speak, shaking his head at the suggestion that they had done something wrong. in the eyes of others they had but he knew better, he knew what faye needed and he wouldn't feel bad for helping her get it. "don't- you don't need to be sorry." before she could say anything else, he gently reached out and held her wrist, pulling her hand away from her face so he could lean in and place a soft kiss where the fat tears had spilt down her red cheeks. it was only one kiss at first, then another, moving slowly back around to her lips where he kissed her properly. there were more romantic places to share a first kiss than the bathroom floor during a house party but it felt strangely appropriate, he wouldn't have changed it for anything.

[erabundus]

@momijiba &&. said... he said it was ok to kiss him, but even so, why was it so difficult for him to go through with it? like why was it taking him so long, he could have done it by now and then they could have moved on. he didn't know it was just … that he was feeling incredibly nervous even if this was such an innocent act of showing his feelings for ren.

after what felt like hours but might have been only minutes he grabbed ren's kase and tilted it upwards to the back a little so he could have easier access. swallowing his nerves away he leaned forward and was getting so close that they would almost share a breath.

his nerves were coming back tenfold and instead of pulling away completely he changed direction and pushed ren's bangs to the side. opening up his forehead had no blemishes at all and was very inviting for kazuha's lips. and he took that invite and pressed his lips against the soft warm skin.

ren  had  been  kissed  many  times  before  —  a  simple  gesture,  not  entirely  unpleasant  when  done  on  HIS  TERMS.  he  was  a  creature  wracked  with  eternal  hunger,  to  fill  a  void  that  ached  and  ached  and  ached  within  him.  though  the  wanderer  once  deluded  himself  into  believing  a  gnosis  was  the  miserable  puzzle  piece  that  would  render  him  whole,  he  had  occasionally sought  other  avenues  to  ease  the  yearning  etched  into  his  very  being.  it  hadn't  worked  —  and  in  time,  he  slowly  grew  disinterested  in  the  practice  altogether.  a  kiss  was  just  a  kiss;  nothing  special  about  it.  nothing  to  set  it  apart  from  the  myriad  of  other  inconsequential,  human  gestures  beyond  the  illusion  of  importance placed upon it by fanciful mortals.

... so  why  did  he  feel  so  NERVOUS?  (  him,  falling  prey  to  such  mundane  anxieties?  )  it  wasn't  even  the  first  time  they  kissed; they had gone further beneath an alcohol-fueled haze. this was stupid. this fear, this uncertainty, it was all utterly devoid of sense — why couldn't he SHAKE it?

the  silence  was  quickly  becoming  unbearable the longer it dragged,  even  by  his  standards. ❝  well?  ❞  ren  finally  asked,  crossing  his  arms  —  to  keep  his  hands  OCCUPIED,  if  nothing  else.  (  the  last  thing  he  wanted  was  to  be  caught  fidgeting.  how  childish.  )   ❝  i  already  said  it  was  fine.  ❞  the  wanderer  arched  a  brow,  laughing  softly  beneath  faux-breath.   ❝  don't  tell  me  you've  lost  your  NERVE.  if  you  keep  me  waiting  for  much  longer,  i  may  just  take  matters  into  my  own  hands.  ❞  the  jabs  lacked  any  real  bite;  nothing  more  than  the  nervous  ramblings  of  one  trying  to  keep  a  veneer  of  composure.  an  illusion  that  was  quickly  dispelled,  when  kazuha  reached  for  his  hat.

he  closed  his  eyes,  twisting  fistfuls  of  his  sleeves  in  either  hand. he felt so exposed, so disgustingly vulnerable without it — yet in the same breath, some part of him seemed to yearn for this. to be seen, to be stripped of that which one used to conceal the most horrid parts of themself and be accepted nevertheless ... it sounded too good to be true.

the  gentle  touch  dragging  through  his  hair  took  him  by  surprise  —  and  ren  had  to  consciously  stop  himself  from  LEANING greedily  into  it.  he waited, patiently, to see what the human would do. before long, there  was  a  press  of  familiar  lips,  warm  and  loving  and  tender  and  it was  almost  too  much.  like  something  inside  of  him  threatened  to  break,  shatter,  crumble  beyond  repair  —  not  from  being  treated  roughly,  but  rather  its  ANTITHESIS.

❝ ...  ❞ this was what he meant by a kiss? how sweet. how torturous. he thought he might die. he wanted more.

[shadowedmagic-a]

savvy’s made me So deranged over maxwell and wigfrid im--

[morsking]

uhhhhhh to better grasp why rin is a host for both ishtar and ereshkigal and why sakura is a host for both kama and parvati you’re gonna have to read the vn since that is the only place where you will be treated to the different dimensions of both their characters and dispel any illusions and misunderstandings the ubw anime created (about rin in particular). i can explain it well but if you have the ability to, you should read the vn to really let it sink in and appreciate things more organically.

there are times in the anime where rin feels like a caricature of herself since she appears so confident and fun-loving and tsundere about it (the vn sometimes does this too but manages to balance things out a little better) that it overshadows how rin is also in her own way extremely repressed. 

rin, while fashioning herself the ruler of her own world and a competent genius is still someone shackled to her duty as the last living tohsaka heir and denies herself a more profound and fundamental happiness because she reasons so long as she is the tohsaka heir, she can never be sakura’s sister, and wrongfully believes that sakura has moved on without her and belongs with the matous oblivious to what zouken has done to sakura for almost 11 years because it’s easier to think that sakura doesn’t care about her anymore than to confront all she’s taught and has lived for for so long is wrong and that she has a chance to make it right. rin however finds ways to keep running into sakura just enough that her true desires betray her efforts at keeping her distance, and if sakura just said “you are my sister, please let’s live together again” no doubt rin would be so torn to hesitate yet so hopeful to as to want it to be real. 

rin’s apparent emotional independence and reputation is a product of her purposefully distancing herself from making any real human connections because she has no idea how to be emotionally available from years of stifling aristocratic conditioning. if she puts herself on a pedestal, it’s easier for others to not approach her and see through her facade. apart from that, as much fun as rin could possibly have by herself there is still something that will keep her from feeling truly fulfilled, and that’s the lack of opportunity (and emotional bravery) to reconcile with sakura. it’s also easier to forsake sakura and threaten to kill her when she’s out of control because acknowledging the horror of killing her own sister would break her own convictions and denounce her, and the tohsakas, as murderers and frauds. ishtar is that side of rin that finds being herself and living as the person in charge of her own existence. ereshkigal is the unhappy part of rin that yearns for more than what she’s been given but feels too guilty and too bound by responsibility to seek it out, and therefore denies herself her wish to connect with the person who would make all the difference in the world (sakura for rin, guda for eresh). 

sakura is a naturally kind, gentle, yet strong-willed individual who has experienced that which would break and utterly annihilate most at a spiritual level. sakura only survived what she did because her mental fortitude, much like shirou’s, is so exceptional she will always retain her sense of self even if pushed to the very brink of suffering. despite that, she grew up extremely bitter, depressed, and with a disposition that utterly gave up on the world that abandoned her to the point where she wished others to fail and suffer at whatever they endeavored. if her life was pointless and fruitless as to be thrown away, why shouldn’t everyone else’s be too? 

it’s really not until she met shirou that she began to change her mind and desire to have more than just numbness. a boy who just wouldn’t give up no matter how many times he couldn’t clear that jump, and accepted the outcome without regrets, second-thoughts, and self-loathing left such a deep impression on sakura that she wanted that thoughtless drive to live freely and greet tomorrow as a given to be hers as well. 

little by little the broken doll with lifeless eyes restored more and more of her inner kindness and good faith, both because she gained a will that did more than just curse, and because there was someone who showed her what a real home, a real family looked like so she’d believe in love and happiness again. but much like rin, sakura struggled to believe she deserved happiness. years of abuse crushed sakura’s self-esteem, and thought her suffering made her unlovable and unnatural. her desire to be both loved and pitied clashed against one another, and were also contradictingly one and the same. it would be easy to be pitied, that means she would’ve been right about her hatefulness all along and she can just fade away along with the pain her baggage might’ve caused others. but if she’s loved, then how will she ever make herself worthy of it? how could she ever justify to herself that she’s being given love that hasn’t been earned? and even worse, what if she’s given love that can be lost?

sakura hides all the things that risk her losing all the love she’s accumulated, a desperate selfish tactic employed by a scared girl deathly afraid to lose the only light she’s ever known. if all her anger, bitterness, cowardice, jealousy, scars, and self-hatred were exposed, what would shirou think of her? once he does find out what she’s gone through, she pushes him away. she really believes she’s done for and has nothing else to come back to. even as shirou keeps asserting he does still want her in his life, she keeps hurling all the terrible things she’s done to him and herself without him knowing: that because he’s kiritsugu’s kid she spied on him for zouken, that she used him to run away from zouken and shinji, that she tried to kill herself, that she’s not a virgin, all to get him to reject her for good while guiltily clinging to the hope that he will still choose to love her in spite, or because of all that.

even after sakura’s killed shinji by accident and transforms into dark sakura, a part of herself is weak towards shirou. a part of herself lashes out when he’s around because she’s still rejecting him hoping he’ll forsake her so he’ll live without getting hurt by her while also begging for him to see how much she’s suffering so he’ll save her, going so far at the end that she tells rin to run away with shirou, having decided to kill herself alongside the grail. rin however, sees through sakura’s attempt to earn pity, but in her own fit of duty-induced forced apathy threatens to kill sakura herself before sakura has the chance to wipe herself out (jesus, rin) rather than comfort her and tell her she wishes for her to live. rin though fails to follow through with her plan. just as she overpowers sakura, she throws away all her lies and embraces her sister, telling her how she really feels, and the very first sincere expression of love her sister has shown her in a decade is enough for sakura to stop dead in her tracks and crumble in grief until shirou arrives to save her and insist that she deserves to live so that all the suffering she both caused and experienced and all the people she devoured can be given meaning. this parallels into how kama as beast iii/L wishes to render all love obsolete by drowning the universe in love to the point where all love becomes meaningless and kama no longer has to be hurt by love, with their defeat marking a change in their beliefs about the world and themself.

parvati tells you as much that she’s taken over sakura’s good side. she’s the earnest hardworking woman who is full of benevolence and enthusiasm after her purpose has become clear. however, what parvati doesn’t understand is that sakura’s good qualities are intermixed with her darker ones and fundamentally cannot ever be truly separated, and that’s why parvati also connects with sakura’s tendency to hide the ugly things about herself out of fear she’ll be rejected, and that it’s wrong and harmful for her to do that to sakura as much (if not worse) as it is for sakura to do it for herself alongside all the people that could be affected by that dishonesty. 

apart from the obvious gross reasons, there is in fact a good justification for kama’s ascensions in fgo. their ascensions go from child to adolescent to adult to demonstrate that kama has a parallel to sakura’s personal growth. they are both individuals who, after being betrayed by their own kind (the gods and the tohsakas) and having their bodies destroyed (kama becoming the cosmos, sakura being devoured by crest worms and having her dna rewritten), have lost faith in who they were before and the world around them. kama starts out in sakura’s child body: the young girl who was sacrificed for a greater purpose and whose heart has been filled with depression, cynicism, and hatred for the world around her. their childish disposition however, marks that kama has truly been reborn and is going through the process of recreating their identity after it was shattered by trauma. 

when kama is in sakura’s adolescent form, that signals that much like sakura around that age, they still cling to some anger and bitterness, but have begun to ease into forming new connections and their desire to be identified with love becomes complicated as it is both heavily resisted yet profoundly wanted. it is kama at their peak self-loathing, directing hatred to themself as much as their child form did to everyone else.

when kama shifts into sakura’s final adult form, it marks the period where they both have had some of their faith renewed in their existence. while it is still very difficult for them to truly know what love is and whether or not they’ve earned it, they nonetheless make it clear they want to believe in it again with the help of the person they’ve placed their trust upon (shirou for sakura, guda for kama). as the god of love, for kama to learn what love is is for kama to once more understand what it is to love themself again, and like sakura at the end of heaven’s feel finish constructing their brand new identity and move forward in a way that their happiness and reforged self-confidence can dignify their suffering and make up for all the damage they caused others and themselves.

this isn’t to say that pseudos as a concept are inherently good or anything. they are still very flawed because when mishandled for fanservice (and it happens a LOT) they do far more to displease both fans of the mythological figures and fans of the original fate/stay night characters simultaneously than to appease them both by robbing all characters involved of their complexities. regardless, that doesn’t mean that these gods wearing the faces of these girls is entirely pointless, lazy, and thoughtless. on the contrary, these girls were chosen because of all the different facets they have that match their possessors’ demeanors and themes, and i hope that this knowledge can help people see the connection with more clarity.

[pen-observing]

request: belphegor + ‘this is not who you are. you are better than that.’

word count: 1.3k warnings: infidelity (non graphic), remembers his past mistake/s.

It is highly odd that the classroom on the upper left 3rd floor of the RAD building is currently your solace. The wood floors feel your feet against them and you are glad to be confirmed as something that can, in fact, stand on solid ground. You have weight, you have purpose – despite the tricks the human mind wants to play with in convincing you otherwise.

The desk is the same as always: middle row, the 3rd one from the back – at the center. Center is a weird word to use because while it would usually shine on spotlight, in this case; it is not attention that you want; it was just being allowed to exist as average. There is beauty in that kind of walk through life. Why be excellent when you could just be good enough?  

The thoughts are catching up to you again as your brain tries to infiltrate it with it’s tricks. Really, you wish that you had the power to clear your mind blank like the board in front of you. Everyone else has already left the classroom so why are you sticking around?

Precisely because your feet are grounded; when you left in a rush this morning they were shaking and your bones were ready to break from fragility. Humans do have fragile hearts and minds.  

They really do; and the older people in your neighborhood were right – the demons and devils would dance around the fragile locks you put up to guard yourself with; they would mock them inside their heads while appearing as everything you ever wanted. Then, they would take hold of the key to your heart, they would walk in there and change you. They would change you little by little until you grew not to recognise the past innocence.  

So what if you were innocent? So what if you were foolish?  

Were you not allowed to extend trust? There is power in being vulnerable even if you grow wounded because of it.

Simeon told you that last night while you were staying over. You smile bitterly; perhaps he already had an idea or a premonition of what would happen? He has always preferred to let those around him learn through their own experience; their own eyes and make sense of things. If your feet stop being grounded on this floor and if you fall apart when your bones tremble – you are sure that Simeon would help you.  

Except, what power would there be in just running to him? Your bones were trembling early this morning after all. Foolish steps that led you to the House of Lamentation almost seemed to be pulled on by flowers and the path as you walked; maybe they were whispering to you?

You forgot an important homework assignment, woke up early to walk from Purgatory Hall to your home and get it just in time to make it to the class.  

That is right; your home was indeed there. Your home was Belphegor’s eyes and the way his fingers would gently brush off a fallen eyelash. Your home was hidden not behind walls of that house but behind being the reason your Belphegor was able to smile. Yes; your Belphegor.

Why does your mind choose to call him that even after the sight of him this morning made your bones tremble and eyes tear up? He was the demon the old neighbors told tales of. He took the keys of your heart and made a place for himself; he made himself into your home and all that you wanted. All this; just to break you apart.  

Did he enjoy the way you lost your ground? Did he enjoy the way your eyes could not find a positive place in the sky to look towards when you caught him with someone else in that bed? By the olden tales; he probably felt pleasure from your immense pain.

You were being drowned and swept away by what felt like waterfalls of pain and he was slowly, in true ruthless manner, taking all of that in to feed his unholy hunger.  

After being betrayed like that; you just left. If your home were not the walls, if your home was not the garden; why would you want to stay there? Your home was no more; your balance was hanging by a thread that kept swinging back and forth between sanity and what is left of a soul after a demon makes his way in.  

Where are you supposed to go?   What are you supposed to do?

There is power in being vulnerable even if you grow wounded because of it.

So now, after being wounded beyond repair, where does that power go? Does it trickle down into your fingertips or the desire to run away? Does it simply disappear and shatter like your illusions of perfect love did.

‘Darling, I will stay with you as long as the stars shine each night.’ He told you that. Maybe you were indeed not good enough; and not average. If you lived as a star in his life; it was his curse that he longed for the sun in someone else.

You couldn’t be both. You could not change like his whims did. So what could you do? You could choose to walk back there and make a new home or destroy the layers of one that already began to crumble.

There is power in being vulnerable, so what do you do after that hurt?

You retrace the steps that ran away in the early morning as the dusk falls. You hold onto the railings as you walk and remember that no matter what – power somewhere exists and people who will bring you comfort do too. Then, with controlling your shaking bones, you reach into that little box that holds memories with him.  

You open the lid and hear Belphegor walk into the room. If the air is trying to give you signs like the flowers did before – he feels remorse. But, why should you care? Belphegor has this way of getting whatever he wants; eventually.  

If you hesitate just because of the sigh he lets out and just because of the fact that some regret lingers – he would still, eventually, get what he longs for.

Forgiveness.  

Forgiveness, can you imagine? He wants you to forgive him. Again.

You drop the lid on the ground and look to your left.  

“This is not who you are.” he says.  

If he knew you that well; did he not know how this would change everything? Did he not know how infidelity manifests once discovered? Those are the first words he has said. No ‘i am sorry’, no explaining, no words of regret. Instead, he chooses to force his own idea of how you exist even as your hand reaches for the lighter.  

In a moment that lasts as short as the demise of trust did – you ignite the first ever photo you two have taken and set it down so that the whole box burns.

“You are better than that.”  

The worst part is that he probably thinks that. You are better than that; you are better than erasing all of these memories and moments that could never exist again after what he did. You are better than this display of insanity. He probably believes you are better than the destruction that you have caused.   If he feels regret; he must feel some love too. But, why should you care? If he wants to be remembered and forgiven; it certainly won’t be by you.  

You turn to look at his eyes eyes for the first time that day; your own are lifeless. The dusk it settling; the papers, photos and memories are kindling like your love. The fire warms your face; illuminates it.  

“I am someone who won’t forgive you anymore. Why do you think I am so weak that I can’t destroy something I once loved in purity? After all – you did.”

Remember, there is power in being vulnerable even if you grow wounded because of it. However, once that wound is there; cut ties with those that took advantage of it. You are better than suffering.

[hawksugarbaby]

Todoroki x reader- Fix you with gold

Angst + Villain reader Au

Quirk: kintsugi- you can manipulate strings of gold hardening it as soon as you need to you can also remelt it.

Crimson lights flooded the bare brick room as you watched from the corner waiting for your dear hero to wake up. Shoto todoroki. You had been well acquainted a few years back. When you haven't been coined as (y/n) (y/ln) the UA traitor but now, well not so much for obvious reasons.

Thankfully, the boy you had once loved more than anything was chained up against a chair with his head hanging low avoiding the glare of the red filter. No no this isn't your boring old yandere simulator storyline. You had no intentions of killing everyone who looked at your dear peppermint boy, you had no of killing him because you loved him that was just absolutely ridiculous... no, you were killing him because he was a hero. But was he really?

Your chair screeched as you pulled it along behind you appearing from your corner and sitting yourself down drinking a lovely tea from a beautiful porcelain cup... well, beauty is subjective. "Good morning shoto" you greeted, your cheery attitude slipping between your grit teeth. Yes, today would be a good day "lovely day, isn't it? For a little chit chat hm?" silence. Once again your response was silence "oh come on my little hero I know you're not dead. Yet" it was a fun game you two had. You would talk, he would not, but all your conversations were rather one-sided and you decided chess was more fun with 2 people. Today was going to be the day you broke him once again.

"Shoto, are you interested in what would happen to you if you keep up this silly game of silence?" you asked and finished off the tea spinning the handle around your index finger. You stood up and launched the cup against the wall fragmenting into small pieces that rained down like drops of blood, he winced knowing that the cup was expensive and not easily found. rich boys and their pottery. "I wonder how easily you shatter compared to a teacup. Shall we find out?"

You put your finger on his chin and forced his head up to look at you. His mismatched eyes bore into you with sadness "I used to love you" he whispered. You let go of him and maniacal laugh erupted from inside you which bounced off the walls into his ears "Shoto you still love me. You want me to change my ways and go back to the way I was, maybe join you as your sidekick hm?" he looked at you his eyes wide with the kindling of hope "WELL NEWSFLASH HERO I never was that girl. I was a lie, a book wrote and edited to suit you" you watched as the hope dwindled away the kindles blowing out in the icy wind of your words you leaned down to his ear and whispered "everything you saw in me was an illusion. I could never be a hero, do you know why? Because heroes aren't real"

you stood back up stretching your arms behind your back a Cheshire smile graced your face. "you still have so much time to join me sho, no ones coming to find you, dearest" you sat back down on your chair leaning forward on your hand "you're a villain (y/n) there isn't a way in hell you could convince me to come to your side" you bit the inside of your cheek and pushed yourself off the chair and walking up to him, your face barely inches apart. You kicked his chair over, flicking a butterfly knife out holding it close to his neck "NO. I'M THE GOOD GUY HERE I-IM THE GOOD ONE. YOUR NO HERO I'M CLOSER TO A HERO THAN YOU'LL EVER BE" you spat while he struggled on his back like a helpless tortoise. You were in the right of course you were. Heroes aren't real anymore just read the news the hierarchy was crumbling and the ones who were at the top had the furthest to fall.

No one needs saviours anymore. "Your insane (y/n) your sick please just let me help you" you hated it when they told you that "SHUT UP. I'M NOT I'M NOT I'M NOT. I'M NORMAL. YOU'RE THE SICK ONE YOU KNOW WHY" you pushed the knife up drawing pinpricks of blood that trickled to the floor slowly "because you crave to feed a hunger you cannot satisfy. You want to save as many people as possible, lock up all the villains yes?" he couldn't look away from the intense expression that hadn't left your face since he told you you were a villain "what happens when you lock up the villains hm? When you run out of people to save? Who runs wild through the city then? You pump out heroes every day leaving less and less for you and between you and me it looks like your going to run out of us soon" you pulled the knife back and todoroki released the breath stored up. Now he looked at it, you weren't wrong? What would happen when the villains disappeared. The heroes that were supposed to make people feel safe no matter what had struck fear into the hearts of every civilian in the world, no one dared to steal, to murder, to light their fires across the country for them to trace back to a warehouse in the middle of the wood?

No, he couldn't be thinking about that. He was a hero through and through you wouldn't change his mind with a petty butterfly knife. You scoffed at his pathetic state squirming under you and stood up pulling his chair back up along with you "you're still so handsome shoto, it really would be the biggest shame to ruin you" you sighed remembering a time when you truly wanted to be with him no matter what. But your ideologies just weren't compatible. "Do you know what happens when you mix bleach and rubbing alcohol?" you pulled a bottle of anti-septic out of your pocket and slipped a white cloth down from your sleeve to your hand "no answer? Or are you being ignorant again" he pursed his lips keeping his words sealed in the front of his mouth "fine. Let me show you." you poured the anti-septic on the cloth and walked up to the gorgeous boy in front of you stooping down "last chance my love" he looked at the wall and you groaned in annoyance. You forced the cloth in front of his mouth and nose and smiled sweetly "you make chloroform"

Day 2

Well, it turns out yesterday wasn't the day. But he was getting close you could feel it, you would take a slightly softer approach today there was another name for this, manipulation. "Morning shoto, are you feeling chatty today?" he looked up from his chair quickly when you entered. Despite what others thought, you weren't completely heartless, you would bring him food and water, and for a hostage, it was pretty good food. Maybe it was the remnants of your love that made you treat him differently. You unlocked his chains and passed him his plate. He knew there was no chance of escape, he had tried and failed a hundred times, he couldn't use his quirk in this room, and you were waiting around every corner when he tried to run.

"You know what I really don't understand shoto?" you wandered around the ruby room admiring the walls that kept him inside "when I first met you you said you despised your father and you would go against him in every way possible" he ceased eating at the mention of his father his appetite suddenly lost in the crowd of emotions "so why even become a hero. Why did you not run off? be the opposite of what he ever told you to be?" you were getting there you could feel it ripping through the air. He was lost, and confused? Who did he want to be? Certainly not anything like his father? Why did he ever want to be a hero? To save children who had to bear what he bore, why should he care for them if no hero ever cared for him "as I see it your father is worse than ever is he not? He lost Touya, he can't find you, he's wearing fuyumi and natsuo away desperate to have his perfect creation. Wouldn't now be the best time to join me sho" the plate hit the floor splitting apart just like his own sanity. Here we go. This would be so fun.

You sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him and picked up the pieces of the broken plate stacking them in your hand "you've heard of kintsugi I assume?" of course he had he grew up with everything, he nodded hesitantly his dual coloured fringe hanging in front of his eye as he leaned over watching you intently. You started laying the pieces of the plate out like a jigsaw fitting them together perfectly "if you just took my offer sho..." you started pushing the pieces together and lines of gold brushed over the old cracks, you lifted up the plate and put it on his lap "I could fix you up with gold" you whispered he gulped and traced his finger over the gold that welded the plate making it better than before. "We could get to know each other again. Love each other REALLY love each other shoto please I'm begging you" you really hated playing the broken lover card especially to someone you truly did love, and of course, you wanted to know him all over again but the begging really was a chore you had to fake so much emotion.

"I-i missed you (y/n) I really did I want you to come back to me the way you were before. Don't do this please" he begged. He knew this was it. He couldn't hang on any longer he had missed you for so long he couldn't stand being away from you again and ... you were right! Why should he strive to be a hero when none had ever cared for him when he was almost dead, beaten up by his own father who had the audacity to call himself a hero. He was nothing more than the creature to be puppeteered by Viktor Frankenstein. "THIS IS ME. can't you see that shoto this is who I am? The way I was before was fictional I tailored for you" you brushed your hand across his scarred cheek and brushed his hair out of his face "but you could know me, you could love me like this, couldn't you. You just need to join my side."

he looked at you, taking in your details for the first time in 4 years. You're (e/c) orbs didn't even try to attempt hiding the craziness behind them, the way your grin had a sadistic twist that could make any god coil in fear, your (h/l) (h/c) that was matted and bloody, the way the red light mimicked the bloodlust radiating off of you, yet he could still find comfort in it. "I want to know you," he said in his low monotone voice. The breaking point. You were his breaking point. "Let's get to know each other then hm?"

[bookwyrminspiration]

elves

oo!! one word prompts!! get ready I'm about to prove myself right and talk for so long based on the tiniest indication you want to hear what I have to say

there are so many ways I could take this where do i even begin. a whole species whose whole job is to look pretty and be perfect, essentially, but it's holding them to such a high standard that no one can achieve and people break and hurt others in the process. their society is self destructive. they're going to ruin each other from the inside out. you know the vibe when you see like a tree or something that looks perfectly fine but upon closer inspection is completely hollow because it's been rotting from the inside out? that's the lost cities.

i think it stems from the whole guilt thing and the elves truly not knowing their tolerance for guilt. they've said the elven mind can't process it, which makes them shatter, but I think they meant they have a very low tolerance for guilt instead. it's literally impossible to avoid making mistakes and feeling guilty about it, so elves have experienced guilt without shattering. instead, i propose they just don't know what their limit is--and maybe everyone has a different limit--, so they avoid all guilt at all times to be safe, but while it's a temporary solution to a hypothetical problem, it's going to come around and bite them.

if you never acknowledge your mistakes and the guilt you feel from them, learning from them, you're going to keep making mistakes and they're going to build upon each other until there's no hope of possibly undoing it. The elven society is a very social one, so a lot of those mistakes are in the form of gossip and interacting with others and how they treat each other. they say shitty things about each other and spread rumors and insult each other and are never told off for it in the event they might feel bad and reach their personal limit. So they continue to do awful things to each other without consequence, tearing each other apart under the pretense of superiority.

let's jump back to that whole perfect society thing. I don't even know how they first started claiming that, but I'm going to equate it to being the kid who liked to read. I know a few of us have had the similar experience of developing a love for literature at a young age and reading veraciously, to the point people began to refer to us as readers and bookworms and little intellectuals, things we took as permanent labels when they were just descriptors of our current state. but when we got older and found other vices--daydreaming, music, social media--we stopped reading as much or all together, yet clung to this label like that would make us readers, when it had never been us but our actions that made us into readers. Because the reality is in your current state you're not really a reader in the way you used to be, but you're using the word like you are. in the same sense, maybe the lost cities were once perfect, but they grew out of that state of being and the descriptor is no longer accurate. and calling it perfect isn't going to bring that past back, action and change of habits will.

but the illusion and desire to still be that remains, hence the outward expression of perfection, which to them involves clothes and homes and social statues. they wear pretty clothes as if that's all they need to prove they're good, that they're doing alright, the same way we see the outside of that tree and it looks fine when the inside is crumbling. does that make sense?

their fear of their own guilt shattering their minds will be their own demise. it lets them treat their own however is most convenient to them or however they feel with no regard to the consequences. but it's all veiling in pretty colors and foods and low crime rates due to no material wants incapable of being fulfilled.

(side note: i wonder if finding someone guilty of a crime could be synonymous to sentencing them to a broken mind)

elves are not the perfect species, but their claiming to be so is an integral part of what makes them self-destructive and will lead to their inevitable end. what'll that end look like? I'm thinking broken minds combined with severe splits and grudges held between everyone, blame being pushed onto everyone but yourself in a desperate attempt to avoid realizing the consequences of your own actions to the point they may turn on their own family and loved ones in a twisted sense of self-preservation. there's already so much drama between everyone, and it'll only get worse if no one can acknowledge their own mistakes and talk things through

elves are destined to deteriorate at their own hands, which i think is pretty fuckin cool

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Our Doll 2//Awake

B.Barnes x S.Rogers, B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

Series Synopsis | After the events of the horrific past, y/n Stark, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have finally admitted their feelings for each other. But is life as an avenger whilst dating two super soldiers any easier than anything y/n’s experienced in the past?

sequel Series to Their Doll

Series Warnings | smut, violence, torture, swearing, threesomes

Chapter Summary | y/n finds a way to cope with the stress

Warnings | smut, vaginal sex, swearing, mentions of drug usage

A/n | This is a sequel book/series to my fic Their Doll! This book loosely follows the mcu timeline, starting in CAWS in book one and starting just before AOU in this book. Bucky had been recovered and is safe, and Peter was taken under Tony's wing when he was much younger.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"G'morning, baby." Steve mumbled huskily, one eye opening into a squint so her could look at me without being blinded by the unforgiving sun spilling like water through the curtains that we may or may not have forgotten to close in our lustful hurry last night.

"Morning." I whispered back, fully aware of the brunet super soldier laying peacefully asleep behind me, cool metal arm sling over my waist atop the duvet. His hot, steady breath fanned over my neck, his nose buried into my hair. I was laying on my side, simply watching steve as he slept until he had clearly awoken.

"It's rude to stare, you know." He mumbled back lazily, eyes finally fluttering open. A wide smile played on my lips, as it always did when I could look so deeply into those ocean blue eyes.

"Sorry." I smile back, eyes pleading. A chuckle, low and rumbling, came from Steve at the sound of my disjointed, broken morning voice. "Hey!" I whisper-shouted, untucking my hand from under my head to slap Steve's bare chest, but he caught my wrist with ease. He slowly pulled it up to his face, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my hand, lips feathering against my skin.

"Now I'm sorry. I somehow forgot how you're still recovering." Steve apologised, continuing to press his lips to my hand, eyes looking into mine. I shuddered slightly, letting my free hand raise to my neck, my fingers dancing faintly over the long, horizontal scar spanning the space. The memory, the pain, still haunted me. Haunted me like a ghost that was sent for me, and only me. My dreams had often been filled with these images - ones of a flashing silver blade, sinister splatters of blood, grotesque and open wounds. The thought made me shudder again, as if to shake off the bad memories.

"You know that one won't be awake for a while." I mumbled, taking a glance at the clock over Steve's shoulder, seeing that it was barely nine am. Steve smiled against my hand, eyes loving.

"I know. So why don't we have a little fun while we wait?" He grinned, almost boyishly, a level of lust clouding the pure blue that usually dazzled across his eyes. I quirked a brow, expectantly, as Steve kept looking at my mischievously from under his long lashes, lips travelling quickly towards my neck.

He grabbed my other wrist, chuckling lowly as I giggled when he flipped us, gently pulling me from Bucky's grasp which earnest us a longing groan but not even a stir, before I was under Captain America in his bed.

Steve's lips didn't leave my skin once, his skin soft against mine as put naked bodies rutted into one another, my head thrown against the pillows now as I felt the surge of arousal pang at my core. One of this thick fingers traced my slit, circling my cliff lightly before he was pulling it away, offering the digit for me to lick clean. I moan at my taste, the sound matching Steve's groan as his cock hardened watching my suck off his finger.

"Ready baby?" He breathed, lining himself up with my dripping heat and pushing in when I whispered with a nod. His palm covered my mouth, strangling my moans and muffling any noise as he begun to thrust, slow but hard, the headboard slowly knocking into the wall behind us. The thumping of wood against plaster only made me more aroused, the realisation of how strong to man above me actually was.

With his free hand, Steve ran his fingers over my arm and up my wrist, before tangling them with mine and pressing my hand into the pillow beside me face, gripping me tight. His face was buried in the joint where my neck and shoulder met, his soft grunts disguised by my flesh as he bit down on my skin to keep himself quiet. My other hand claws at his back, harsh enough for boy of us to know there'd be lines down his back when this was done.

The trimmed patch of hair at the base of his cock scraped across my clit with every thrust, sending jolts of pleasure through me and causing stars to cloud my vision.

It was obvious we were both getting close when we heard Bucky speak.

"Getting started without me?" His raspy husk of a morning voice pondered, the bed dipping by my shoulder as he propped himself up on a fore arm. Steve groaned, lifting his face from my neck and turning it to the side, giving Bucky a glare. But his hips never stopped moving into mine. In fact, they only seemed to speed up, his pelvis slapping into mine hard enough to leave bruises.

"Don't mind me. I think it's a rather lovely sight to wake up to." Bucky grinned, his tongue tracing his bottom lip as he watch steve lift his palm from my mouth, tangling his hand with mine as a jumble of moans and pleas finally fell from my lips. "Make her cum."

And with those words alone I was seeing white splotches across my vision, my hips bucking up desperately and Steve threw his head back, the tightness of my walls from my orgasm causing his own.

"F-fuck! Y/n!" He moaned loudly, collapsing on top of me as he painted my walls with his seed. My eyes were still lost somewhere in my skull, chest heaving as I slowly ran my fingers through Steve's hair, his head resting against my chest.

"How about we fill in Bucky on what he's missed?" Steve murmured in my ear, teeth nipping along my neck, a smirk tugging at our lips.

...

Pulling her hood up further over her head, y/n quickened her steps. One of the other downsides that came from the night Bucky returned was that her face was now well know. With the amount of reporters and just cameras in general that were at the party her dad had originally thrown to celebrate the first proper steps of her recovery, y/n's face was probably the most well-know one in New York second to maybe only Tony Stark's himself.

The pavement slapped beneath the rubber soles on her shoes, the dirtied black trainers helping y/n blend in against the see of clearly struggling people. Her eyes stayed narrow, fixated on my target as she eyed the small alleyway, three doors away from Benjies, a little run-down cafe that no one wanted to buy and no one could afford to buy. The bricks swallowed any hint of safety, dark shadows lurked almost as anxiously as the people they concealed.

Sharply turning on her heel, y/n pivoted into the dingy space between two broken buildings, litters of waste, used joints and other miscellaneous junk scattered the crumbled tarmac floor, the gaps between bricks stuffed full with moss and wrappers whilst the bricks themselves were marked up with paints of all colours, forming poetic pieces of scrabbling artwork that decorated the discarded buildings.

Y/n cleared her throat, nerves bubbling as she approached the also hooded-figure who was leant casually against the left wall, giving the illusion he knew it well. But y/n could tell from the way his slender body was slightly tensed, brown eyes darting as the drips of clinging water shattered against stone and the way his hand rested over the side of his thigh - ready to pull out the small gun at a splits second notice that he was only once familiar with this place, but had neglected it - even fled it, for a long while now.

"You sure you wanna do this, kid?" His voice was soothing, a complete contrast to y/n's abused, scratchy one as she gritted through her teeth,

"Don't tell me what to do, Sam. You promised you'd give me the name of your supplier, no questions asked." She ground the last words out, hands falling from her pockets and balling to fists at her side. Sam sighed deeply, pushing himself from the wall and sauntering closer, closing the gap between him and y/n as he rolled his eyes obnoxiously at her irked stance.

"I know, just consider what you're doing. This shit can really fuck you up, I stopped for a reason." Sam suggested, fingers curling over her shoulder his his hand settled there, a comforting gesture.

"I know what I'm doing. I just- I can't keep up with the stress." Y/n admitted, a vulnerable crunch behind her grit teeth as she tried to spit the words out. Sam held his hands up in surrender, backing up a step when he saw the dangerous lurk to y/n's eyes.

"I know, I know." He offered a small smile, dipping a hand into the back pocket of his jeans and fishing out a small slip of paper, torn edges and all. He crammed the piece into y/n's waiting hand, but didn't let go as he looked directly into her eyes. "I'm sorry. I know it's tough, and I get why. Hell, it's exactly what I did. But it's a steep slope, one that few get off of." He warned.

"I understand, are we done now?" Y/n scoffed, her indifference unnerving yet the facade held cracks that few could see.

"Just don't let your boys know I gave that number to you. I know both of them would give me hell if they ever found out I was involved." Sam requested, and y/n gave him a cert nod.

"They won't find out. Promise." Y/n even punctuated her words with a tight smile, although it didn't quite touch her eyes. Sam returned the gesture, all be it slightly warmer, before he was brushing past her, clearly desperate to leave the little alleyway before anyone could catch him.

[omg-imagine]

Forget Me Not (Part 12/15)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: Angst, language

A/N: Kinda nervous posting again since it’s been a while, but we’re winding down to the end of this story with only three more parts to go (2 chapters + an epilogue). As always, feedback is appreciated. Thanks for sticking around, and I hope you enjoy!

Part 11

Home.

You are home. It’s supposed to be home.

But it wasn’t. To you, it couldn’t be. 

This place feels too far from home, too foreign. You had no memories of it, no recollection of the safety and security it offers. Not even the faintest remembrance of the laughter, smiles, and tears; the fondness and the sadness these four walls have witnessed over the years. 

You can’t call it home. You don’t know where home is, and you’re not sure you have one anymore. 

Not after leaving him behind.

It’s cold and dark when you first wake, sleep weighing heavily in your eyes. A pair of curtains block out the sun from filtering into the room, leaving you to wonder if you had slept through half the day. With a yawn, you stretch, the bed underneath creaking as your body fully rouses from yet another night of fitful slumber. Almost a month back in New York, and it doesn’t make sense to keep blaming your lack of energy on the time difference.

The ache is still ever-present. The pain caused by the void in your heart remains, sharply throbbing in your chest with its refusal to go away. Two heartbreaks, two betrayals, occurring five years apart, but it feels as though not much time has passed in-between. 

It hurts to ponder about it, that evening when your seemingly perfect little world came crashing down. Hiding behind rose-tinted glasses, you were unknowingly tricked, fully caught up in a well-crafted illusion. His illusion. Love has blinded you to the sad reality, and in the end, it left you a shattered mess, a hollow shell of your former self.

You doubt you’ll ever be whole again.

Forcing yourself out from under the covers, you reach for your phone on the nightstand to check the time before scrolling through your notifications. Nothing was of interest to you, fortunately; you didn’t have the energy to respond to those you suddenly abandoned. Friends who cared about you but realized you were never close to them. Not in the way it used to be.

As you skimmed over the new texts and emails, you then came across his now unsaved number. The moment you stepped on the plane, you deleted his contact from your phone and blocked him. Yet the last messages he sent to you were still there and haven’t been read since, though you already knew what they could entail—

I’m sorry.

It was never my intention to hurt you.

Please give me another chance.

Let me fix this.

Just come back, Y/N. Come back home.

Home. There was that damn word again. You were beginning to loathe it, even more so knowing that whenever you think of home, you wind up thinking of him.

The last time you saw him was the morning after the storm. Booking a one-way ticket back to the east coast, you then spent the early hours packing as many clothes that would fit in a single suitcase. Tears had long since dried up, having none left as you headed down the stairs, ignoring the look he gave you from afar.

He was dressed in the outfit he had on the night prior; his hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot, and it was quite obvious he endured no sleep. Your resolve nearly crumbles as your gazes connect, bodies close enough that he could reach out the slightest bit, and he’d be holding your hand in the palm of his. 

Fighting the urge, you didn’t cave in. You couldn’t allow yourself to fall for it—for him. 

No, never again.

As expected, he followed you out of the house, remaining quiet as he watched the cab driver load your luggage in the trunk. You paid him no attention when he approached the vehicle once you climbed in, wanting nothing more than to escape this nightmare. With nowhere else to go and no one to turn to, you decided it was best to leave California, not that you belonged there anyway.

It played out like a scene from a movie—the taxi pulling out of the driveway slowly as the raindrops started to fall. Hearing him call out your name, his voice cracking with each syllable, made you hesitate for a beat. Perhaps you could forgive him, you had thought in that split-second. Forgive and forget; let what happened in the past stay in the past. 

But even if you did, the pain’s still there, and it was overpowering. This pain resulting from his deception had been too consuming, too unbearable to move on.

You told the driver to hurry as you couldn’t afford to miss your flight.

The atmosphere in the car was fraught with grim silence. As the house sequestered in the hills vanishes in the rearview mirror, you knew you were running away from it all. You couldn’t stand being here in LA, where every turn, every corner, and every street reminds you of a life that wasn’t truly yours. 

As idyllic it once was, you wanted no part of it anymore. Instead, you sought for familiarity, the life you used to have, the one you could only remember. 

What you thought was your real home.

Unable to hold it in any longer, you had broken down in the backseat, never feeling more alone than you did at that moment.

You wish you could forget, but it’s not that easy. It’s never easy. Memories of him linger in your mind, still tragically fresh as they haunt you day in and day out. Closing your eyes, you could see him wearing this smile that used to make your stomach flutter. You came to love his smile the same way you had loved him wholly. 

Now? Seeing it was a stab to the heart—a reminder of how he took advantage of your condition, your vulnerability. Of every lie you were fed. That smile, the one you previously hoped to wake up to for the rest of your life, had been an act, a facade. 

Everything had been a facade.

A sudden knock on the door startles you, and you clicked off the phone screen before announcing to whoever that they could come in. Your mother Nancy enters soon after, her face displaying concern when she realizes you had just woken up. She’s silent as she walks towards the window and then pushes the curtains aside, the sunlight outside immediately washing over the room. 

Briefly, you squint to adjust to the brightness, a confirmation that it was past noon already—another wasted day.

“Hey, darling,” she speaks softly as she moves to sit on the mattress beside you. “How are you doing?”

There’s no point in lying, but as much as you greatly appreciated her caringness, you didn’t want to burden her with your problems. They were yours to deal with and yours alone. 

“Better.” And that, you were. Just a week ago, you finally stopped crying yourself to sleep. “I might even go out tomorrow and look for a job. Can’t keep freeloading under your roof, right?”

You release a half-chuckle, a small attempt to lighten up the mood. It was comforting when your mother cracks a smile in response.

“Oh, hush. You’re always welcome to stay as long as you need to,” she assures, a loving warmth radiating from her tone. 

Lips pressing together, you sense that she has another thing to address. “What’s wrong?”

Nancy pauses to take a breath, shoulders rising and falling. For some reason, you’re on edge, finding yourself bracing for what was to come.

“Have you spoken to Keanu lately?”

Upon hearing his name, you swallowed away the lump in your throat. After telling your parents what had transpired, it stirred up various emotions—mainly anger from your father, sorrow from your mom. Their hearts sank as you recounted the story, tears blurring your eyes that you couldn’t see their faces. It was a good thing, however; you probably wouldn’t have reached the end.

Since then, they’ve refrained from speaking of him and to him. He’s called the house on a few occasions but could never get past the automated answering machine. Pictures of the two of you hanging on the walls were taken down shortly after the revelation, and you were unsure of who had done it. 

Your parents still couldn’t believe he was capable of such a thing. He had played them the same way you were, twisting the truth and omitting facts. Painting himself in a way that made them think allowing you to stay with him was the best decision when just months before he treated you as if you didn’t matter. 

As if he didn’t love you.

“No.” Curt, you had nothing else to say. 

“He’s a persistent one, I’ll tell you that. Left another message last night,” Nancy comments, feeling her stare as you fiddled with the hands in your lap. The next time she speaks, it’s slow and controlled. She’s careful with her words, wary of how you would react to what she has to say. “Hon, the last time you were here, you told me something. Something that I probably should have mentioned the day you woke up in the hospital.”

You tense, eyes flickering up to hers. “What is it?”

She sighs deeply, her smile fleeting and replaced by a taut frown. “I knew you and Keanu were having… problems. Not the full story, but enough that told me you’ve been unhappy for a while.”

“W-Why didn’t you bring this up then?”

“Because the second I saw him in your hospital room, I could see how much he loves you. How scared he was at the thought of nearly losing you—”

“Pfft, sure he was,” you scoff at the statement in disbelief. “What he did—you don’t do that to someone you love. You don’t lie to them, betray them. Hell, if you had given me a heads up earlier, then it would have saved me all this trouble.”

“Y/N—”

“Don’t you get it? He’s an actor. Of course, he’s good at playing pretend. Got us all believing that things were all sunshine and rainbows. He fucked up and fucked up even more by lying. I’ve always had a bad track record in relationships, so I shouldn’t have been too surprised.”

Tension hangs thickly in the air, an apology murmured at the end of a passing second. You didn’t mean to snap at your mother, to let the anger and betrayal consume you that you began taking it out on others although unwillingly. 

But you were just too goddamn hurt. Every day, the memories are suffocating you despite constantly wishing and pleading for them to disappear. That life, the one you had with Keanu, no longer exists, and yet you were still holding onto the frayed remains of it, not ready to move on—to let go. 

You grieve. You grieve and mourn for the recent past, the happiness and love you experienced in the time you were left unaware. Never have you felt so complete, so content, and much at ease. You had turned a blind eye to the signs, to the small inklings of doubt brewing inside because you thought that there was no way you could get something else as close to this.

Perhaps you were both to blame after all.

“I thought he was different,” you whisper, sorrow flowing from your words. “I thought he was the one. The man I’d settle down with, marry, and then maybe someday, be the father of my kids. We’d build an entire life together, a family, a future. The kind of life where I could look back on it fifty years from now when we’re old and gray and not regret a single thing.”

Feeling your mother’s hand come on top of yours with a light squeeze, you fought off the tears forcing their way from your eyes. You swore you would never shed a tear for Keanu ever again, but you are crumbling from within. The weak walls you put up are now tumbling down, leaving you even more vulnerable than before. 

“I want to hate him. I want him to feel my pain and suffer through it, knowing that he’s the reason why. But I can’t. Somehow, I just can’t.”

“It’s because you still love him. No matter how much it hurts, you’re still in love with him,” Nancy adds solemnly, and you nod shakily. “You’re healing, dear. So far, all you’ve done is put on a bandaid, but it doesn’t mean the wound closes up immediately. It’ll burn, it’ll bleed, and it’ll ache, and right now, that’s what you’re feeling; the pain of a fresh open wound.”

“Make the pain stop,” you mumbled incoherently as you lean against your mom’s side, wet cheeks pressed to her shoulder. “It has to stop.”

“And it will,” she promises, listening to your soft and tired cries. “It’ll take time for the wound to heal, but eventually, it will. Until then, life continues, and you would have to as well. You don’t have to go all-in right away, but don’t let this heartbreak hinder you from living, sweetie. You’re strong, and I believe you will feel that same happiness again, in one form or another. But you won’t find it unless you go out and look for it.”

For the first time in what seemed like a while, you felt something other than loss and despair. It creeps into you slowly, half-expecting a cold, crushing weight to fall heavily on your chest rather than the warmth and light it is. But as quickly as it came, the sensation subsides, a wave of loneliness, emptiness filling the vacant space surrounding your heart.

A shuddering breath released, you then reflect upon what your mother said about time and how time heals all wounds. You wonder how much time is needed until you can finally break free from the remnants of the past and breathe again. Could be days, weeks, or even months more, but it’s right there, waiting for you on the horizon. 

You may not have a place to call home, but what you do have is time.

---

Seconds turn into minutes; minutes turn into hours. The sun sets, the moon rises; bright, blues skies bleed into a fiery red before dimming to an inky darkness. The world spins on its axis as people wake, move, then sleep, and the cycle begins all over again.

Two weeks have come and gone, and life pushes onward. You could tell by the scenery outside where the season of fall has taken charge of the Northeast. Days are shorter, with nights stretching out longer as the year fades into winter. Time was flying by at a brisk pace. Very soon, a blanket of snow will cover the ground you walk on, reminding you to take a step back and admire the natural beauty of mid-November.

The crispness of the late afternoon air is refreshing as it fills your lungs, a welcome change from the hazy summer heat. Leaves that were once lively shades of green are now painted in deep hues of amber and burgundy, and they crunch beneath your boots with each leisure step down the earthy path. The nearby lake is as pristine as ever, sparkling freely underneath the rays of the ochre sun as it waits for the impending frost.

Wandering about outdoors for hours now, you were lost in your stream of thoughts. You honestly felt better, not entirely mended, but just enough that you can step out of the house and explore the quaint little town. A picturesque place, it was a perfect settlement for your retired parents where everyone knew everybody; their faces, names, the street they lived on. Boilding down to more personal details such as knowing the pets they owned, which book club they’re a part of, and any recent travels. 

When the townsfolk saw you, you sensed the feeling of familiarity. Those you passed by in the streets waved at you, and though you couldn’t exactly recall your relationship with them, it made you smile. Recently, old friends and family in the area had begun reaching out after hearing you were back. You never gave them the full explanation, only revealing that things in California did not work out, and you figured it was best to leave. 

Was it a permanent decision? Most likely. Life here is simpler, quieter. You enjoyed the peacefulness, favoring the calm atmosphere of this town much over the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles. It gave you space to think, to focus, to breathe. To reacquaint with yourself, rebuild who you are as a person by taking this journey of self-discovery. 

It’s the brand new start you desperately wanted, needed. An opportunity to find your place in this world without the past holding you back. Without the shadow of the woman you once were looming over you. And if your memories don’t ever return, which deep down, you hope they never would, you would be fine with it. 

You were tired of being stuck searching pieces of the past. You had to live.

Trekking up the gravel road leading to your parents’ home, a black car sits on top of the hill, one that you did not recognize. Perplexed, you approached the house with hesitant steps, dragging your feet through the pile of dead and dry leaves. There was a moment of panic when you noticed a man sitting on the front porch steps, hands clasped on his knees as he hung his head low, a curtain of dark hair masking his identity.

But you don’t need to think twice, for you already know who it is.

“Keanu?”

His name slipping out of your mouth feels different now. Gone is the affectionate tone that it was usually spoken in. It held no meaning, void of any warmth or tenderness. Keanu, the name is bitter on your tongue, a poison that could cause you to spiral down yet again, and saying it out loud brought upon a rage that swirls through your veins.

How dare he show up here unannounced?

As you take your breaths, one… two… three... and out, Keanu straightens his posture and meets your stern glare. Slowly, he gets up, the expression on his face hard to read. But aside from that, he looked worse for wear. The bags underneath his eyes were dark and prominent, the beard on his chin was unruly and untamed. He appears gaunt and exhausted, as if he hasn’t slept a wink ever since you walked out of the door and out of his life.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You’re the first to break the thick silence, a testament of your bravery and strength of some sort. Brows furrowing and teeth gritting in anger, it contrasts with Keanu’s lax demeanor as he steps closer. “No, stay back. You have no right to be here right now.”

“Y/N, please...” He speaks calmly, each and every one of his movements measured. “I’m not here to fight—”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you seethed, shaking your head as you stormed past him and towards the door. Tears brew in your cloudy eyes, a sign of how much he still affected you. Seeing him again after all this time only proved that the wound he had inflicted bleeds to this day.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Keanu quickly trails from behind, his voice dripping with utter desperation. “Please, just… give me a chance to talk. All you have to do is listen, and I promise you won’t ever have to see me again.”

The seriousness in his timbre causes you to halt in your tracks. Swallowing dryly, you turn around, sad, tired eyes reaching his guilt-filled ones. Keanu stands before you with a face written in despair, making him barely recognizable. The way he’s staring at you as if he’s hopeless and in pure anguish is unsettling, and you almost pitied him for it. 

“Y/N…” He pleads softly, defeatedly. “Hear me out, please.”

You wrestled between your options, half apathetic, half curious of what Keanu had to say. Unspoken words on the tip of his tongue, he mutely begs for you to relent, and if this is all it takes for him to leave you alone, leave you for good, then so be it.

“Ten minutes,” you muttered, low enough that he barely catches it at first. Crossing your arms against your chest, the gentle autumn wind rustling through the trees pierces the silent air as you observe Keanu staggering forward, a hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, gazing at you with his searching brown eyes. “I-I know saying it a thousand times won’t make a difference, but I really am sorry. What I did before and after the accident was inexcusable and selfish. I hurt you, and I will never forgive myself that. Don’t expect you to do so, either. You probably hate my guts right now, and flying out here might be a mistake, but I needed to talk to you in person. To say goodbye one last time.”

Brushing his hair back, Keanu then pads over to the trunk of the car, and all you can do is wait for him to come back. It doesn’t take long, but he makes two trips to unload two boxes, setting each of them down in the space separating you two. He instantly notices the confusion etched across your features, burying his hands in his coat pocket with an exhale.

“Are those—”

“All the things you left behind,” Keanu finishes feebly. “Thought you would want them back.”

Stunned, a mirthless chuckle escapes your throat. “You didn’t have to do this. Those aren’t my things anyway.”

“But they are—”

“They’re not mine,” you cut him off with a weary gaze. “Keanu, I’ve said this before; I’m not the woman you fell in love with. Not anymore. Look, throughout those months we spent together, I tried to fit into this life everyone told me I had. A life that’s far from what I was used to. God, it feels like a dream being her. So confident, happy, and successful. Waking up from the coma, of course, I would want that. I had just gotten out of a terrible relationship which left me broken and unworthy of anything and anyone. Then you showed me the love I thought I didn’t deserve, and it kept me from realizing that it was all too good to be true.”

Eyes faltering to the ground, your fingers fumbled with the hem of your sweater, ultimately distracting yourself from the tears threatening to fall. “The truth is, I didn’t know you. You were, are, a stranger to me. You had done things behind my back, hid details that would have been a deal-breaker, but you didn’t care. I’ve thought about it a lot lately; would I have stayed if you told me from the very beginning. I wasn’t sure if I was madder at you kissing someone else, knowing how much it would hurt me, or the fact that you lied to fix this—us.”

There is a moment of silence that weighs over everything. The wind stops blowing; the leaves are motionless. Time seems to slow around you and Keanu as he waits for your next words. Words that you are still searching for since you hadn’t prepared to voice those thoughts out loud. They all came rushing, flooding like a broken dam, too overwhelming to keep at bay. 

“Which one is it?” Keanu probes delicately, equally afraid of which answer you’re going to give.

“Neither,” you revealed, surprisingly. “I’m angrier at myself for falling too fast; for being the naive little girl who let herself be fooled, who refused to listen to her instincts even though she knew they were usually right.”

You see Keanu open his mouth to speak, but you weren’t done. “I always believed this accident was a curse. It erased years worth of memories that, at this point, I’ll never get back. But now, I see the good that came out of it. Our fights, our arguments, they were all signs that our relationship was falling apart, but I couldn’t let go of it—of you. I held onto us thinking the bad will just phase out eventually when in reality, I couldn’t bear giving up on you and this life we shared.”

Another pause. “Huh, funny. Looking at it, the same thing happened all over again.”

With that said, you felt relieved, somewhat lighter. Despite previous inclinations, you didn’t shout or yell at Keanu. Nor did you discuss to the fullest extent of the suffering you’ve endured. Strangely, it was nearly therapeutic admitting all of that to him, to yourself. For months, you had been unable to let go and accept the truth, allowing fear and doubt to control your actions. 

But that was then, and this is now. 

And now, it was time for you to be free.

“Guess this is it,” Keanu sighs dejectedly. He didn’t come here to win you back, knowing there’s nothing that he could do or say to repair the damage. Like you, he’s letting go, letting this be the closure he needs, and you need as well. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly, “Guess this is goodbye.”

Before you could leave his sight to spare Keanu the awkwardness, he holds up a finger, signaling you to wait a second. Swiftly, he goes to retrieve something that’s lying on the front seat, something that you’ve spent countless hours flipping through. He then reluctantly passes it over to you, and you’re unsure what to do with it.

“Your pictures,” he points out, though you were already aware. “I’m not trying to be an asshole or anything by giving this, but this book is yours. Keep it, burn it, do whatever seems right to you. But I want you to know, to remember, that I did love you. I still do, and these photos are proof of it, even if you can’t bring yourself to believe that I’m telling the truth. You deserve love and to be loved, Y/N. More than anything in the universe. I fucked up my chance to be the one to tell you that every day, but it doesn’t mean the next person you fall for will.”

“Ke…” your voice suddenly breaks with emotion, uncertain of what to add after his statement. It’s because you still love him. No matter how much it hurts, you’re still in love with him, your mother’s earlier words echo in your mind, ringing true in your heart. Even after everything, a piece of you still loved Keanu, and saying goodbye to him more painful than you anticipated.

As you stand frozen, Keanu inches nearer until he’s by your feet, the palm of his hand coming to rest on your cheek. He strokes your face with a tender caress before tilting your chin upwards to meet his gaze, brushing his thumb along your lower lip gently. You allow him to have this moment, to hold you and study you for a final time, commit you to memory as this would be the last. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you feel him press a soft kiss on your forehead, the warmth of it immediately spreading throughout your body before he slowly pulls away.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N,” Keanu says, opening the driver’s side door of his rental. You look at each other once more and see the subtle, hopeful smile he shoots your way. “And don’t be afraid to love again.”

You watch as he starts driving away, opting to wait until the car is finally out of view before releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

In your hands is a keepsake of your memories. A collection of captured moments that you had cherished so dearly. But things are different now; mistakes were made, words were said, people have grown apart. You found no reason to linger in the past when there’s nothing left to salvage. 

Nothing left to do but heal.

The warmth of Keanu’s kiss eventually disappears, the world around you unpausing, continuing as it was before. You stay standing in place, glancing back and forth between the book you clutched on tightly and the boxes laying on the ground. 

Yet in the quietude, the wind still blows. The leaves still fall, and the earth still spins.

Time resumes, bit by bit; passing for life to move forward— 

For you to move on.

Part 13

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​ @fanficsrusz​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @awessomness @meetmeinthematinee​ @ringa-starr​ @ficsnroses​ @iworshipkeanureeves​ @keandrews​ @greenmanalishi​ @feminine-machinegun​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @lilyette​​ @rdjloverxxx @flaminasteroid @danceoftwowolves @ravenpuff02 @wheretheriversrunintothesea​​ @breakthenight​​ @allie1804-fan​​ @partypoison00​​

[multi-fandom-freak0221]

The Shell of a Girl that I Used to Know Well

Inspired by "Love of three" by @misashabunbun

Thank you @thestressmademedoit and @maleive07 for helping me find the fic.

So this turned out to be longer than I thought it would be (probably because I based it around like 5 songs) so I'll break it into parts and post each part separately. Oh and did I mention this is songfic? Because it's a songfic! No Felix yet, but you guys do see Peter but I surprise surprise I turned this into an OT4 pairing. Anyone wanna guess who the other lucky person is to date Mari, Peter and Felix? Also bonus points for anyone who can figure out Mari's stage name.

The song in this part in Stitches by Shawn Mendes and The Lonely by Christina Perri is where I got this parts title from. Also the song mentioned at the end is Partners in Crime by Set It Off ft Ashley Costello.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was grateful for the quiet she found in what she was pretty sure was some kind of presentation room. There was a raised platform which she believes is supposed to be some kind of stage and a couple of tables with chairs surrounding them. She still has no idea how she got here, she was just trying to find some peace. She knew her pseudo Uncle and her friends meant well but they were suffocating her. It's been over a week since she left that bastard, not likely that he even noticed. Since Marinette has gotten to Stark Towers everyone has been treating her like she's about to break and she can't stand it. Yes she's hurt, but like give her a chance to fall apart before trying to shove her back together again! Marinette took a deep breath to calm herself as she sat on the little stage to work on the embroidery she was putting on the back of the blouse. She already had a full heart there but it was kind of plain. She wanted to add something but she didn't know what. 

She sighed softly. At times she really missed Tikki being around to be her second opinion. 

Ever since the defeat of Hawkmoth the kwamis asked to be renounced and to have their respective jewelry return the Miraculous box. They were working together to heal poor Nooroo and Dusuu. Even though Marinette had been able to fully fix the peacock Miraculous, as well as heal Emilie Agreste and Nathalie Sancour from the effects of using a broken Miraculous, the two kwamis had to deal with a significant amount of emotional trauma from the whole affair. 

Even though the final battle had been won quietly without casualties it had taken a lot out of everyone who had been a part of it. Adrien's relationship with his father has been very strained to say the least. Even though Gabriel is doing his best to right his wrongs, it goes to say that the only reason Adrien even speaks to his father at all is because of his mother who is desperately trying to make up for years lost between the two of them.

While Marinette was trying to think of an idea for her embroidery she started humming a song she had heard recently on the radio. In her eyes it fit her past relationship with Damian Wayne perfectly. Soon enough she was singing softly.

I thought that I've been hurt before

But no one has ever left me quite this sore.

Even on their worst days Lila's lies, Alya's beratings, hell even Mlle. Bustier's looks of disappointment never hurt half as much as Damian's total disinterest did. She had cooked him a nice romantic dinner yet he barely acknowledged her. More interested in whatever, or should she say whoever, was on his phone. After 5 mins of trying to carry the conversation alone Marinette sighed and just decided to eat the meal she worked so hard on. After 10 mins of stiff silence in their shared apartment, only filled with the sounds of Marinette eating and Damian texting, the latter got up. Grabbing his coat he made his way to the door, barely turning his head towards his fiancee to call out "I've got to go. Something came up at work."

Marinette wasn't even shocked anymore, just resigned. Still she tried to reason with the man she no longer recognized. Sometimes she wonders if she ever truly knew him at all. "You just got here. Isn't there someone else who can handle it? You haven't even touched your dinner."

True to her words, the young heir's meal sat completely untouched, quickly cooling in the AC.

"Mari, you know these things are important. Not just anyone can handle them." Damian's words were patronizing at best. It frustrated the young designer, but she didn't let it show.

"Will you be back tonight?" She knew the answer but she asked anyway.

Damian hummed noncommittally as he walked through the door still looking at his phone and not the beautiful young lady in front of him. "Most likely not. Don't wait up for me." He quickly walked out, closing the door behind him. Marinette quickly placed her ear to the door as he walked away from the humble abode. She could hear him on the phone.

"Yeah. I'm on my way, gorgeous. I just left." Silence. "No, she doesn't suspect a thing." Nothing but his footsteps as he continues to leave unknowing of her distress behind the apartment "Perfect. The less you're wearing, the better."

Marinette crumbled to the floor after she could no longer hear him. She had suspected as much but that didn't make hearing it less painful. 

Your words cut deeper than a knife

Now I need someone to breathe me back to life

She remembers the first time he truly yelled at her. The way he looked at her with disgust. The way she flinched away from his imposing figure and his cutting words. If tried hard enough she could delude herself that he was doing this out of her best interest. The illusion made even easier to believe by the way he apologized and hugged her after he stopped yelling. The way he told her he was worried about her going out and being made a target to Rogues because of her connection to him. The way he feared that he disguises wouldn't be enough even though he himself didn't recognize her at first when she walked back through the apartment door the day. She believed she was safer staying in the apartment because he said so and he only wants what's best for her. So eventually the walls of their apartment was all she saw 24/7. For her safety of course. 

Got feeling that I'm going under

But I know I will make it out alive

If quit calling you my lover

And move on

Marinette's head was spinning. Or was it the room? Was she even breathing? She couldn't focus on any of that. All she could focus on was the picture sitting on the screen on her phone. The phone Damian had bought her. The idea made her feel sick now because all those gifts he was giving her now seemed to have double meanings. Especially when the picture filling her screen was of a naked Lila whose body was hidden behind a sheet lying on Damian's bare chest while he slept. She didn't even think to process how the lying bitch managed to get her number. Instead all she could focus on was tears streaming down her face as she felt her heart shatter. She didn't even process the fact that she left the phone right there with the picture still on the screen and started packing her stuff. She grabbed everything that was hers that she bought herself, later on she'd be surprised at how little that was. She stuffed her things in a small suitcase, put the miracle box in a duffle bag wrapped in her leftover fabric from commissions, grabbed her purse with her wallet and left. After locking the apartment door she slid the key underneath the door so he could have it back. He could have everything back he ever gave her. She was done. She was so distressed she didn't even notice that she had put on the one disguise she had and taken a train to New York until she was standing in the lobby of Stark Tower with her Uncle Tony and her Aunt Pepper holding her while she sobbed.

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

I'm shaking, falling onto my knees

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help

And now that I'm without your kisses 

I'll be needing stitches

Marinette was so engrossed in the lyrics, in her feelings, that she didn't notice the tears falling from her eyes, nor the way she was furiously embroidering the shirt in her hands. And she definitely didn't notice that she had gained an audience.

Just like a moth drawn to a flame

Yeah you lured me in and I couldn't sense the pain

The first time she met Damian it had been an accident. She knew when her classes started she wouldn't have the time to get the fabrics she needed for her last commissions that she agreed to before going on hiatus. She knew juggling her business and school would be hard so told her clients she'd be on break for the unforeseeable future. She was so focused on her phone trying to make sure her list was complete, that she didn't notice the man right in front of her.

"Oh!" She fell back with a little yelp and when she saw what, or who, she ran into she hurried to help them up as well. "I'm so sorry monsieur. Are you okay?"

The man yanked his hand away from her and growled, "You wouldn't be having to ask if you weren't caught up in whatever idiotic nonsense is on your phone."

Marinette fumed silently. "Well excuse me sir, I don't know who you think you are, but that is uncalled for. I apologized and helped you up. All you had to do was walk away. No need to be so rude."

Damian raised an eyebrow at her curiously. "You don't know who I am?"

Marinette crossed her arms still annoyed. "Am I supposed to? You could be the president for all I cared and I still would say you were being rude and disrespectful."

Damian's expression changed slightly to a bit of amused intrigue. "I apologize. I thought you were another fangirl with some kind of ruse to get my attention. If you don't mind me asking, what is a girl like you doing in a city like Gotham? I can tell from your accent you are not from here."

Marinette relaxed a little bit. "I'm here going to college when the semester starts, but right now I was out doing some shopping."

"Perhaps I could join you as a way to apologize for my rude behavior. I could give you a mini tour along the way." Damian smiled softly at her.

"I don't know," apprehension was clear on Marinette's face. "I don't even know you let alone your name."

Damian chuckled lightly. "I assure you, even if you don't know me, the rest of the city does. I won't be able to get away with doing anything to you without being plastered across every newspaper and magazine in town, Angel. But my name is Damian by the way. Damian Wayne." He grabbed her hand and kissed it softly after his introduction.

"A-angel?" Marinette stuttered as she blushed.

"Well, I still don't know your name."

Marinette smiled before introducing herself. "My name is Marinette. Your company would be much appreciated, Damian"

Your bitter heart cold to the touch

Now I'm going to reap what I sow

I'm left seeing red on my own

Sometimes on nights like these Marinette wondered what she did wrong. Because it had to be her of course. Why else would Damian go from her caring, charming, wonderful, Dove to Gotham's very own cold, unfeeling, ruthless, Ice Prince. 

"Hi, Damian. You're home early." Marinette tried not to let the hope seep into her voice. She had a feeling she wasn't successful.

Damian barely grunted at her as he continued to their room. "My idiots brothers dragged me into spending some time with them so I'm forced to change into something less formal."

"Oh okay." She knew she did an even worse job of hiding her disappointment. "You know I finished Uncle Jagged's outfit the other day. He loved it."

Damian hummed noncommittally. She knew he wasn't paying attention, he never was but she kept trying.

"You know how he's doing that "World's Greatest" Tour. Celebrating the hero's of the world in their respective cities. Luka's been opening for him. His career has really taken off. Hell I'm sure half the tickets Uncle Jagged sells are people just trying to see Luka. He'll have to tour solo soon."

"I bet." Damian's voice was muffled from being the closet, but she could still hear the disinterest in his voice.

She sighed as she leaned against the doorframe of "their" room. It was only theirs in name the fact that his clothes were there. She spent almost every night there alone. She took a deep breath trying to gather her courage for what she was going to ask. "Well they wanted to thank me for the outfits. Claimed the tour would have been half as successful without them. They invited me to take me out to dinner tonight to catch up, then for me to hang out backstage during their show. They said they missed me." Marinette hoped he still wasn't paying attention, but as soon as he settled his famous glare on her, she knew she wasn't that lucky. She flinched into herself under his gaze.

"Marinette. You know what would happen if you left this apartment. The famous Wayne Heir's sweet vulnerable fiance. The one never seen in the media anymore. You would get off this block before your picture would be on every media outlet in the city. Then you would be the Rogues target for the night. They would go anywhere you would be. Including the concert. Would you really be so selfish to endanger hundreds, possibly thousands of innocent concert goers just to 'hang out' with people you can see any time you please?" The disappointment on his face and the coldness of his delivery had her feeling ashamed. She hung her head low trying to hold back the tears. 

"I'm sorry." She knew her voice was barely above whisper, but if she tried to speak any louder she knew she'd open the flood gatesp.

Damian brushed past her. "You should be. I'll be heading to the concert with my brothers. I'll inform Jagged of your apologies for not coming."

"Just telling him I'm sick." She offered weakly still not looking up from the floor.

She could feel his judgeful look on her. "Of course not. He'll insist on coming to check on you then he'll see your lying. I'll tell him you're busy with commissions." He left her standing there as headed to leave again. She heard his phone ring and he answered it harshly. "I'm coming down, Todd!" "Of course not, you imbecile! She's a serious designer who can't be bothered out of her schedule to spend time with my idiotic brothers, especially when she's up to her nose in commissions!" She heard the door shut after that statement. I guess her soon to be brothers in law didn't know the real reason behind her lock down either. She stood there for a few more moments before she broke down into loud heavy sobs. She collapsed to her knees and just cried. Not for the first nor last time in that prison she called an apartment.

Got feeling that I'm going under

But I know I will make it out alive

If quit calling you my lover

And move on

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

I'm shaking, falling onto my knees

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help

And now that I'm without your kisses 

I'll be needing stitches

Needle and the thread 

Gotta get you out my head

Her hands were moving furiously as she was trying to rid her mind of her cruel ex.

Needle and the thread

Gonna wind up dead

She wanted to forget everything about him.

Needle and the thread 

Gotta get you out my head

His smile, his laugh, the loving look in his eyes.

Needle and the thread

Gonna wind up dead

His kisses, his hugs, the way he held her like he was afraid of losing her

Needle and the thread 

Gotta get you out my head

His scowl, his glare, his need to hide her from the world

Needle and the thread

Gonna wind up dead

His distance, his apathy, the way he was happy in any other girl's arms but her's

Needle and the thread 

Gotta get you out my head

Get you out of my head.

She wanted to forget loving him and hating him. She wanted her happiness back

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

Shaking, falling onto my knees

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help

And now that I'm without your kisses 

I'll be needing stitches

And now that I'm without you kisses

I'll be needing stitches

I'll be needing stitches.

As she finished singing she awoke from her haze. She felt the tears on her face and wiped them away before looking to see what she had made. The simple heart from before now had a jagged line down the middle that stopped a quarter of the way to the bottom to represent a break. From the bottom it looked like the heart was dripping. The most noticeable change was the crude yet tasteful stitches that laid over the break in the heart. They weren't neat as if she were suggesting they were professionally done. The way she laid them subconsciously represented as if they were self done by someone trying their best.

While she was studying her impromptu embroidery a voice surprised her. "It looks nice."

She looked up in shock to see a brown haired boy around her age, 21 maybe 22, sitting at the table closest to the stage she was on. He looked as if he had been there for a while.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you. I heard you singing so I came to see who it was because you have a beautiful voice, but then I saw you crying and I wanted to make sure you were okay, but you seem really focused and I didn't want to interrupt, but I didn't want to just leave you either, but- I'm sorry I'm rambling. My name is Peter. Are you okay?" The boy, Peter, asked her softly, looking concerned. For Marinette it was enough.

She had sat in the chair next to him and finally let out everything she was holding in. The tears were flowing freely now "I don't know. I'm so mad, so hurt, so confused. Where did it go wrong? One minute I'm getting my business degree at Gotham University, the next I'm in a relationship with Damian Wayne. It was amazing he was so kind and sweet and loving and he made me so happy. Then next thing I know after dating for about a year and half he proposes. I'm on cloud 9 and I say yes and I'm so excited for what's to come, but suddenly everything changes. Next thing I know he's saying I can't leave the apartment because he wants me to be safe from the Rogues and I accepted it. Then he's yelling at me for trying to sneak out and I'm thinking I deserve it. I should have just stayed home and he's already apologizing for yelling. Then suddenly he's gone more and more. He's never home and I'm alone and it hurts. Then suddenly I'm selfish for asking to go out to see my friends because how can I put everyone at risk just to go see some friends who I can see anytime I want. Yet nobody is ever allowed over. But I still believe he's right. How can I be So now I'm alone and miserable and it hurts because he keeps getting further and further from me and I'm starting to suspect what's going on but I'm too scared to ask him because if he confirms it, then everything I believed in is a lie and I couldn't live with that. But I didn't even have to ask because soon someone is sending me a picture and it's the girl who made my school life hell by taking everyone I thought was my friend away from me with a few far fetched lies, and here she is laying naked on my fiance's naked chest as he sleeps. And I know he knows who she is and what she did to me because I told him. Yet he doesn't care because here he is fucking her while I'm at home all the time because he told me to be. So I grabbed my stuff and left everything he ever got me and just left. So here I am miserable staying with my Uncle Tony trying not to think about the asshole while my friends try to help me feel better yet I feel terrible because I loved the jerk and I still kinda do and I still have the engagement ring which I should pawn, but it was Bruce's mom's ring and that would be wrong and Bruce would be devastated. Why do I care so much about him and his family when he couldn't be bothered with me?" She felt better after finally letting it all out. She hadn't cried since she came to Uncle Tony. Not when Adrien arrived with Kagami, Marc, and Nathaniel, not when Luka arrived with Uncle Jagged and not even when Chole and Alix arrived. All her friends and pseudo family were there yet she hadn't cried once, nor had she actually told them the full story. But here this stranger asked if she was okay and she let it flow like Niagara Falls.

If Peter was shocked by her rant he didn't let it show. Instead he placed a hand on her before speaking softly "Because you are an amazing person who is a million times better than him. He is insane to choose anyone over you especially someone so foul as a desperate liar. I just met you, but I can already tell that you are a kind hearted, talented girl and anyone would be lucky to have you in their lives and I can tell by the crowd over there by the door that you have many people standing with you who already figured that out." Marinette looked up at his words to see her friends and pseudo uncles and their respective wives standing in the door. 

"Hi guys." As soon as Marinette finished speaking they all rushed towards her. Adrien reached her first pulling her into a tight hug.

"Oh bugaboo, I'm so sorry you had to go through this. Are you okay? Why didn't you tell us, princess?" He buried his face in her neck purring slightly in a way that calmed her.

"I guess I was still processing everything kitty. He really had me thinking he loved me and to find out he didn't was a hard blow." She confessed quietly.

"He'll meet my blade for hurting you, Mari," Kagami seemed to have Chole, Alix and surprisingly, Marc ready to back her. 

"No, Gami, I just want to get over him. He's not worth it." Mari remarked sadly before smiling at her friends. "But thank you, all of you, for having my back."

There were various "Of course" and "Always" that were heard among the group before Tony Stark cleared his throat. "Marinette let me properly introduce Peter Parker, my intern. Peter, this is my niece Marinette Dupain-Cheng also known as MDC owner and head designer of Miracle Designs."

Peter looked star struck. "I love your work. You make the coolest clothes on the planet."

Marinette blushed lightly. "Thank you, Peter. Uncle Tony told me much about you and I was always impressed. You're nothing short of a genius." Marinette missed Peter's blush as she started introducing her friends to him, but Tony didn't.

"This is Adrien Agreste, former model and Physics major. This is Kagami Tsurugi, world champion fencer. This is Luka Couffanie, singer songwriter signed under Jagged Stone. They're dating. This is Nathaniel Kurtzberg and Marc Anciel creators of Miraculous Tales comic. They're engaged. This is Chole Bourgeois, the best lawyer in all of France and probably Europe. And this is Alix Kubdel, X Games Winner, and famous archeologists. These two are also engaged. I'm sure you know Jagged Stone and his manager and also his wife, Penny." 

"You guys are amazing! None of you look much older than me yet you're already so successful! What is in the water in Paris? Some kind of talent steroids?" Peter was amazed.

"Speaking of talent," Luka turned towards Marinette. "Melody why didn't you tell me you could sing like that?" Soon everyone was agreeing that she was an excellent singer.

Marinette was bright red. "It's no big deal guys. I was just singing to myself, I wasn't expecting an audience."

Jagged took his chance to pull his pseudo niece into a hug. "Nettie, my girl you have got to let me sign you. It would be so rocking to have talent like yours produced under my label!"

"No way Uncle Jagged! I'm not even that good!" Marinette began protesting before Luka put a hand on her shoulder.

"How about this? I need some vocals for a song I wrote and no matter how much I love them, my dear boyfriend and girlfriend can not sing." Adrien and Kagami looked at each other before shrugging. No point denying it. "How about you feature in my new single under an alias and if it's hit you'll give an album a try?"

Marinette looked around at some of the most important people in the world to her before sighing and agreeing.

"Alright. But no promises that this will be hit. I'm really not that good. You guys are just biased."

Alix ruffled Marinette's hair. "Whatever you say, DC. Now let's go play some UMS3!"

As everyone was heading out to find a room large enough for all of them Peter prepared to go back to work on a project until Marinette turned back to him with a huge smile and bright eyes. "Come on Peter! Come play with us." 

How could he say no to that? So he came along.

A couple weeks later Luka's single "Partners in Crime" featuring Neon Titanium hit number one on the charts. And the most searched inquiry on Google for 3 days following was "who is Neon Titanium?" Needless to say Marinette was busy for the next couple months. Especially after Luka dropped a music video which she starred in as well wear a full face mask to stay hidden.

[fatefulfaerie]

Brighter

Inspired by @hetsuu and @itsmeyaboi ‘s ramblings so honestly all credit goes to them I just play with a computer keyboard and a word document like a toddler plays with a toy xylophone and a stick. Music comes out because there’s sound y’all but that doesn’t mean I ever know what I’m doing or that it sounds good lol

Spoilers for Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity under the cut:

Link wasn’t a fool, and thus there was no use in denying it.

His claim to the Master Sword had triggered for one reason and one reason only.

He was in love with the Princess of Hyrule. And, in the very moment that he reached for her, wishing that some way, somehow it would be enough to save her, his sword broken and shattered to pieces, the Master Sword shone bright with a renewed purpose.

Link needed to save his love and, chosen hero or not, the Master Sword had allowed him to do just that. It didn’t matter to Link that Her Highness was unaware of his growing love for her. As far as he knew, reciprocation on her end was out of the question and there was no use in inquiring after her feelings. Especially considering the impending fight against Calamity, Link knew he needed to set aside what the the King he swore loyalty to would surely call a frivolous distraction. Link couldn’t afford that with the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders and on the shoulders of the woman he was in love with.

Zelda however, expected to unlock her sealing power with as much ease as Link had pulled the sword that seals the darkness, was fruitless in her multitude of tiring attempts.

By the time the Calamity had befallen upon Hyrule, Zelda’s power awakening seemed a distant dream, a hope too good to be true and a wish that had ruined their expectations of victory.

Onslaught after onslaught, battle after battle, this widespread war seemed one they could never win, warriors forgetting rest in the midst of sleepless nights. At the mere hope that peace may return, that the tide of the war may be turned, warriors of all races attempted to counteract these insurmountable forces.

And yet, like beavers building a dam to stop the rush of a river that was just too strong, it seemed that, stick by stick, Hyrule would wash away into oblivion.

Link himself finally lost hope of victory when he was surrounded by Ganon’s blights, a fierce strike everywhere he turned. And yet, knowing Impa was hurrying Zelda to safety by his quick nod to prompt her, he was determined to fight to his very last breath. The odds were against him and still, he would do nothing else but fight for the slim chance that he may degrade the forces of Calamity Ganon just enough to help Hyrule win, even if by a hair’s breadth. 

“Link!” He heard her exclaim as a bright yellow light surged in the corner of his eye. Link panted as he stood up from where he had crumbled to the ground, hearing Guardians whirring with decreasing power, seeing Ganon’s blights diminish into mere specks, blotted by the light.

Link turned around to find the source of this salvation, expecting perhaps to see an angel, greeting him into the afterlife he was waiting for. Perhaps he had died at that last strike from Thunderblight Ganon and so here was transcending mortality all together.

But when he turned around and instead found Her Highness, his princess, the love of his life with her power finally awakened reaching for him, Zelda had afforded him the tiniest of moments to suspect that she may harbor similar feelings of love for him. Before, of course, the seemingly endless battle waged on. His suspicions had to be set aside.

Zelda unlocking her sealing power was the turning point against the forces of the Calamity. Every soldier fought with a renewed strength at the light in her leadership. It was a hard battle to win, but in under a day, the ashes of war were descending into the dirt of a new Hyrule and a sun was rising on a completely new era.

Link’s suspicions only grew without the pressure of the calamity upon them, although he didn’t know what to do with his quandaries, never being particularly good at voicing them. 

It was only an inkling of suspicion, after all, Link reminding himself that it could have merely been out of fear of losing such an integral warrior that her sealing power was awakened, or the stress of the situation, or just random chance, or any number of things. Jumping to conclusions by acting on his suspicions would be much too embarrassing for him and he would have to leave Hyrule all together. 

Thus, Link assumed he was misinterpreting things and disregarded it.

After the victory over the Calamity, the King insisted that Link take some time off duty. Link, who didn’t quite understand the point or meaning of a break, took the extra time to train. Zelda, who felt her increasing duties had kept her from time with her dear friend, sought him out, soon finding him alone in a training room in the castle.

She stood leaning on a doorway watching him with adoring smile, knowing better than to alert someone armed with a sword and ready for anything. He may accidentally chop her head off thinking her a Bokoblin.

Zelda hoped Link found her at least prettier than a Bokoblin.

Nonetheless, she greeted him after he had sheathed his sword, Link turning his head and bowing immediately.

Zelda insisted he stand up and yet once he did his face paled completely and his eyes had widened with shock. He looked completely frozen, but it wasn’t just because Zelda was only a foot away from him. 

It was because she was glowing golden like the sun, not enough for her to notice, but enough for him.

“Uhm,” he said with a nervous chuckle. His eyes scanned nothing and darted every which way as it came together in his head. This was real, this wasn’t just an illusion, she was really glowing. No one else was around and this was the first time they were alone since the calamity. Link could hardly catch his breath. What was he supposed to do?

“Link?” Zelda asked, tipping her head. “Is something the matter?”

“With me?” Link asked, his voice cracking before he cleared his throat. “N-no of course not, uhm…”

Somehow this was far more nerve-wracking than facing a Lynel. His breaths were heavy and panting. His heart was pulsing out of his chest and his brain felt foggy.

What was he supposed to do?

There was no protocol for this, no guidebook for what to do if you fall in love with the Princess of Hyrule and you find out she may love you back because she’s glowing. Glowing. She is glowing.

“I…I-I have to go,” Link said practically running past her and into the hallways of the castle. Zelda turned her head, following him with her eyes and a furrowing brow. She questioned to herself the rest of the day what was wrong with her knight.

When Link returned to his duty defending Her Highness, his stoicism was borne from trying to keep his love inside, much like it was before the Calamity. Zelda didn’t press the matter of his acting odd around her because of this stoicism. Perhaps things were going back to normal, but at the same time, did she want that?

While guarding the Princess, Link would attempt small things like closing the distance between him and Zelda and trying not to gasp when she emitted a faint glow. He would quickly move away so Zelda wouldn’t notice his experiments, but anyone in their right mind would have noticed them.

Zelda even went so far as to ask Impa and Purah if they noticed anything strange about Link recently, citing his odd behavior. Robbie interjected with his analysis of what he called post-calamity oddity syndrome, but Robbie’s pre-existing eccentric nature made Zelda disregard his analysis as legitimate, although she thanked him for his efforts. Impa and Purah said they noticed nothing odd, and Zelda thanked them as well for their honesty.

Zelda, who was at her wit’s end, was the complete opposite to Link, who was ready to try the next attempt up his sleeve in order to confirm his suspicions.

Link was standing by the door, standing guard much like a statue as Zelda tinkered with Terrako on the other side of the lab. Purah and Robbie were huddled around the diminutive Guardian, all three spouting observations Link didn’t even try to make sense of.

Zelda finally stopped tinkering, her hands letting go of the tools she used and dropping to the table loosely. Link spotted his chance and seized it. He knew not how he was going to explain himself out of this one if his suspicions were incorrect, but he was almost sure of her feelings now.

“With enough parts I’m confident we will be able to restore Terrako in full,” Zelda said as Link approached, Link in particular wiping the sweat off his hands via his Hylian trousers. “I think we may even be clo—”

Link had taken Zelda’s hand, which immediately interrupted what she was saying.

“Link, what are you doing?” She asked as she looked over at him, but his expression was deep with love and his blue eyes somehow reflected gold. Aside from the warm blush on her own cheeks that she was fairly certain he would disregard by now, she wasn’t sure what else he could be looking at.

“Link?” Zelda asked again before she looked over to Purah and Robbie, whose mouths had popped open completely, Purah’s red eyes and Robbie’s goggles reflecting a similar gold sheen.

Zelda finally looked down at herself to see her form absolutely coated in a golden light, Zelda hurrying away from the stool she sat on, declasping her hand from Link’s.

She looked at her glowing palms for a lingering second for she looked to Link, her expression softening from confusion to something akin to love and affection. She started to shake her head.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this,” she said. “I didn’t know you were acting strange because…because you…”

Zelda couldn’t even bring herself to say it, and Link was smiling, almost warmer than how she beamed. His eyes were sick with love and so were Zelda’s as they stared at each other with an unspoken understanding between them.

“Purah,” Link said. “Do you have goggles like Robbie?”

“Uhh I can,” Purah said, hurrying to a nearby shelf and sorting through a particularly messy stack of all sorts of gadgets and gizmos. She finally found a pair with an “Aha!”

“Be careful with those, now,” Robbie said as Purah returned to his side,. “You break it, you fix it.”

“Oh, so intimidating,” Purah said sarcastically before offering the goggles forward to Link. “Here you go.”

Link chuckled, shaking his head and returning his gaze to Zelda. 

“They’re for your eyes,” Link said. “Not ours.”

Link walked toward Zelda, placing a gentle hand on her cheek. Zelda was already brightening when Purah put the goggles on.

“I love you,” Link whispered. Zelda smiled.

“I love you, too,” she said before they both went in for a kiss, their lips meeting slowly and yet with a passion they couldn’t contain.

The golden light from the laboratory could be seen from the castle and, although Zelda’s power would deteriorate over the next few years, her love for Link only grew.

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH132

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 132: The Dream of the Holy Nun (XXII)

To be or not to be?

This is really a simple choice.

But at that moment, this choice was extremely difficult.

Qi Leren slowly closed his eyes. He couldn't reveal his emotions. At this moment, his heart was beating so fast that an emotion that could be called ecstasy surged in his mind.

He had a great opportunity.

Originally he didn't even have one in ten thousand possibilities, but now, he did.

He needed acting ability, 200% acting ability, just like when he played Red.

Qi Leren took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes.

Those brown eyes revealed the human struggle. He moved his lips, as if he wanted to question Su He about why he did this, but in the end the bitter accusations all turned into a trembling in his eyes. His eyes, his expression, and his shaking fingertips were filled with the desire to live.

For a moment, Su He almost thought he was going to give in, but he shivered suddenly, took a step back, and looked at the closed stone door. He seemed ashamed of his weak will, so he wanted to look in the direction he had come, wanted to escape and ask for help, but he knew that he couldn’t escape his fate. Finally, he only turned around in despair, shame, and helplessness, and looked at Su He again.

They stared at each other for a long time. The Devil's scarlet eyes were only interested in observing the human, while the observed humans had too many emotions, from resistance to struggle, from hesitation to compromise, and finally it turned into deep despair and he began to cry.

Those beautiful brown eyes closed, and when they opened again there was only an empty desire to live.

The Devil smiled and looked at him with encouragement, but he stopped looking at the Devil. He was still suffering for his weakness, so he didn't dare to look at him.

Trembling, he took the first step towards his journey.

Descent begins with this small step.

After this step, there was numbness, compromise, and submission.

He had come to the Devil King, quietly looking at the goblet filled with the Devil’s blood in his hand. If he drank this cup of the Devil's blood he could gain great power, but at the same time would degenerate into a demon.

The human being lured by the Devil King took the goblet with both hands. The blood in the goblet was like wine. He stared at the red liquid his Adam's apple rolled.

The Devil smiled.

The goblet tilted, the glass pressed on his lips, and the bright red liquid was about to catch his lips, but another transparent liquid rolled down from his eyes first. The humble man’s brown eyes gazed at the Devil, wept silently, and silently swallowed the temptation from hell.

The moment the blood flowed into his mouth, the transformation had already started. His brown eyes became scarlet and the devil sigil climbed over his cheek from his earlobe, leaving a thorn-like mark. Black wings sprouted from his back and pierced his clothes. They were as beautiful as a black swan’s, like an angel who had fallen from heaven.

The new demon held the empty goblet in his hand and his blood-red lips parted slightly, looking at his master.

"You look like an naive and innocent lover, beautiful but so enjoyable to see destroyed." The Devil King leaned down, kissed the forehead of his beloved demon in reward, and whispered softly, "From today on, your name is 'Depravity'."

The devil's blood slipped from the new "fallen’s" lips, and the viscous scarlet liquid flowed down his chin and fell to the earth.

At the moment when the blood fell to the ground, a violent explosion engulfed the two people who stood opposite each other, and they vanished in an instant.

　　&&&

In the scenes where reality and illusion were interweaved, countless illusions passed by the two people pitted in combat -  demons crawling in the lava of hell growled, blazing angels falling from heaven prayed, and the holy light and the demonic energy intertwined together, overturning large areas of trees and even distorting this space, making the two people fighting seem to be in another time and space.

The land under the Witch of Jealousy's feet had turned into a burning hell where countless demons hatched from evil and were shot through by the unreal blazing angels one by one. The witch looked at Ning Zhou with red eyes hidden behind he black veiled hat, with a smile on her mouth: "Are you in a hurry? Are you worried? Is it for Qi Leren? I remember him. He gave me my sister's things in the underground palace. He is really a kind and good man. I should thank him..."

"He has a pair of beautiful eyes, brown, but my Lord thinks red eyes are more suitable for him." The Witch of Jealousy’s scarlet eyes flashed, maliciousness pouring out from her painted red lips, "As long as they drink the blood given by my Lord, ordinary human beings can easily become demons just like me and get unimaginable power. You see, you’ve been studying hard in the Holy See for so many years, but I’m tied with you. No one can refuse the temptation of strength, no one.

"He’s going to betray you, poor knight, he’s going to betray you!" The witch laughed madly, shrill laughter with hysteria.

Ning Zhou, who was intercepted by another demon, waved off the giant demon and landed lightly on a rock in the hellish lava. He said coldly to the witch, "You’re jealous."

The witch's laughter came to an abrupt end and the smile that died on her mouth slowly turned into anger: "What do you know?"

At this moment, the Witch of Jealousy perfectly interpreted the appearance of jealousy. She stepped forward on the lava and said sharply in a distorted voice: "You don't know anything! I was so careful, so I walked on the edge of the cliff with every step and climbed out of hell little by little, just to see him again. I tried my best to reach what I am today, but it happened that some people are so lucky that they could easily ascend to heaven. He likes him, praises him, seduces him... Why, why is my Lord so fond of him?!”

The witch's anger triggered the illusion of hell and the lava turned into flames and shot at Ning Zhou. The two knives in Ning Zhou's hands crossed and he stood in front of her, but he rushed past regardless - the magma was split by holy light and his sharp knives passed through the furious lava and appeared in front of Isabel.

The angry witch smiled grimly and raised her sword to stab him.

The angels and demons in the false image collided together and a magnificent disillusionment broke out from them.

Suddenly the boiling magma died down, the shaking earth died down, and even the surging night wind died down.

Among the hills where the Vatican was located, there were only sacred songs and music coming as if from nowhere under the bright starry sky, compassionate and holy.

Blood flowed down the tip of the thin sword, trickling into the fertile soil, and the two people who were so close that there was almost no distance between them stood motionless, then suddenly separated.

The thin sword had pierced Ning Zhou's abdomen, but the short knives had penetrated the witch's chest.

More and more blood flowed down.

Isabel's black veiled hat had fallen to the ground, revealing her dim scarlet eyes. Covering her chest, blood streaming through her fingertips from her beating heart.

She seemed shocked, but the surprise gradually turned into self-mockery and loneliness. A gust of wind blew and she slowly fell down, looking at the night sky with her eyes empty.

"It's too late..." the Witch of Jealousy murmured. "Even if you go there, it's too late. He doesn't belong to you... You’ve lost him..."

Ning Zhou stepped forward and came to her. Blood flowed out from his abdominal wound, but he didn't feel it.

Blood was trickling from Isabel’s mouth. She looked him in the eye and asked dreamily, "Do you know the taste of jealousy?"

The bloody knife hung over her head, and the blood trickled down the blade and fell on her forehead.

The witch looked into his eyes and showed an understanding smile: "Ah, that’s the taste."

The knife fell and pierced the witch's head, and her demon crystal was broken in the holy light.

The demons condensed from rocks disintegrated, and the illusion of the dying demons screamed silently and dissipated in the night sky. The space dominated by the witch was gradually restored to be in line with reality. The ghostly angels stayed in the void for a while, bowed to the broken church on the top of the hill, and then disappeared into the night of the new moon.

Ning Zhou coughed softly, but the movement of the lungs disturbed his abdominal wound, making the blood flow faster. He leaned partially against a half-fallen tree, took a deep breath, and bandaged himself with a straight face.

After only doing the simplest medical treatment, and even having no time to clean up the demon energy that had infected his body through the wound, Ning Zhou hastily put on his clothes and ran towards the church on the top of the hill.

White gauze was quickly dyed red, but Ning Zhou’s training had accustomed him to being injured and he numbly adapted to this degree of pain. He had to go quickly, quickly…

There was an earth-shattering noise and the church on the top of the hill began crumbling.

Ningzhou's footsteps stopped, and his heartbeat seemed to stop with the explosion.

As his chest stuttered, blood gas rolled up from the depths of the throat and Ning Zhou spat out one mouthful of stagnated blood. The pain that he should have been used to was overpowered by the feeling of his heart breaking. He wiped the blood from his mouth, dyeing the silver cross embroidery on his gloves red with blood.

God, if I am guilty, please let all the harsh punishments come on me, even if I have to pay for it in hell for all eternity.

Please, bless him and let him be safe.

-----

The author has something to say:

Although the author thinks that the plot is quite clear, there are still many girls who don't understand it. Simply put: Su He is the Devil of Fraud, male (three years ago, he appeared in the appearance of a woman during the Witchcraft Sacrifice). His status has changed from before, but he was originally a player. There are witches and demons like Isabel under his hand, and there will be other devils/witches acting under others outside. The master of the Witch of Nightmares (the little girl who was like Maria) is not the Devil of Fraud, but the old Devil.

The Nightmare World is equivalent to another real alien world. It is not surprising for either NPCs or human beings to become Devil Kings. For example, it is also possible for someone to aspire to the Holy See and become the Pope after decades of hard work (provided that they are not dead).

At the same level as Su He, there are also the Devil King of Power and the Devil King of Slaughter. The relationship between these three people is not peaceful, and we will talk about it later; It was not them who were killed by Maria, Ning Zhou's mother. It was the old Devil who led the demons to invade the underworld for the first time more than 20 years ago. After he died, it was peaceful for more than 10 years. Three years ago, the text began, and three new Devil Kings led the demons to invade the human world for the second time.

Is it clear =v=

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Editor’s Notes: To take this opportunity to clear some things up a bit more, so far “Devil”, “Devil King”, and occasionally “Lord” have been used interchangably, though some devils who are of lower rank will appear in part 2. So among the Devil Kings we have the Devil of Fraud aka Su He, the Devil of Slaughter who was worshipped by the secret society in the previous arc, and the Devil of Power who has yet to appear in any notable capacity. All three of them are currently at the same level but are vying for supremacy, which was why Su He wanted the old Devil’s demon crystal. I would like to also clarify that despite being called Kings, not all of them are men.

Details about the old Devil will become much more clear in part 2, but for now all you need to know is that he was the former supreme ruler of the demons who was killed by Maria. :)

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[baby-dragon-horns]

Bitter Promises

Summary: With Agrabah vulnerable and broken after the damage Jafar did as advisor, Aladdin has no choice but to sign King Beast's treaty for the United States of Auradon. Even though it puts the djinn in an uncomfortable situation

aka king beast sucks, aladdin has no idea how to be a sultan but hes Trying His Best, and the djinn isnt quite prepared to give up his new freedom

Read On AO3

“Nu uh. No. No way kid,” the djinn leaned forward on the orange cushion, letting his golden earrings brush against his cheeks. “There are many things I’d do for you, most things, really, but this is not one of them.”

Aladdin sighed, leaning his chin forward on bent hands. Heavy shadows dragged his eyes down, his dark hair falling across his forehead, casting long shadows across his face and his white shirt crumpled. In two years he looked like he’d aged twenty.

He looked more tired than the djinn had ever seen him.

“Please,” Aladdin whispered. “I did as much as I could. There was only so much I could bargain for.”

Aladdin’s voice was broken and hoarse, shaking ever so slightly. Like a puff of wind could knock it out of his body.

It was jarring.

The djinn raised his finger, breathing deep but the air wouldn’t fill his chest. “Why do you need to bargain? Why join their alliance? Why give up Agrabah’s independence?”

Aladdin laughed bitterly, gesturing lazily around the room.

The room itself was cool and crisp, the walls lined with lush green plants and the cushions that piled on the floor were soft and full. The air still smelled of dates and spices and perfume.

But just outside the window the streets of Agrabah were crawling. Dust kicked up into the air, shouts and yells and threats cutting sharp through the sticky warmth of the evening. Walls crumbled and stalls collapsed and children cried.

“Jafar destroyed us. The people can’t even say his name. I had to send him far away,” Aladdin’s voice got stuck in his throat. “I had to build up respectability in their eyes. We… we need the trade. We need the alliance. Agrabah isn’t what it once was.”

There was something about Jafar’s name that turned the air colder, sharper. Hissing and whispering, like the shadow of a ghost tearing the walls apart.

“You would give up Agrabah’s independence so Jafar was rotting in a prison that isn’t our’s.”

“No. I mean. Yes. Technically, yes. Him being gone for good is a… relief. But that’s not all of it,” Aladdin took a shaky breath, his shoulders tensing and shuddering under him. “He took the country's wealth. He destroyed our schools and our resources and our cities and our pride. He forced the country to struggle and crumble as he smothered the wealth and prosperity we once had and now where are we?”

Aladdin’s voice broke and the calm illusion of the night tore apart. The tears and cracks in Aladdin’s voice shattered the djinn’s chest.

“Djinn, I’m not a sultan. I’m an orphan and a street rat and a thief. I grew up on those streets, in the poverty Jafar made. I don’t know anything about being sultan. I don’t know how to bring Agrabah back to its glory. Me and Jasmine, we’re building more schools, we’re trying to encourage trade with other nations, and build Agrabah back up to a centre of enlightenment and wealth, but it’s so slow and our people are hurting. I can’t do this alone. I need your help. And I need the alliance and support the Beast has offered.”

“Even if that means my freedom.”

The words were heavy in the djinn’s mouth, leaving a bitter taste in the djinn’s mouth. They made the golden bands around his wrists feel too tight, digging into the skin. His robe was itchy, smothering, yet another prison he had to endure.

Aladdin closed his eyes. “Would you rather stay in Agrabah without magic, or be sent to the Isle.”

“Woah woah woah. Hold up. Go back. Rewind. Was that a threat, kid?”

Aladdin shook his head tiredly. “Beast wants you on the Isle. Says you’re too dangerous. Too wild.”

“Too wild,” the djinn parroted. “Too wild? The Beast King ran with the wolves and let his teeth stain red with the blood of deer and he calls me too wild? He snarled and clawed his way through a decade and scarred his future queen and I am the wild one?”

“I know. I know. But listen to me, please,” Aladdin’s hands shook. “He wants you gone. He’s already closed the border to the Moors, he’s threatened to send FG to the Isle, too. The only way he’ll let you stay here is if you stay as my advisor. You can run, you can live out your life hidden away and constantly out of his reach. I will not stop you. I will not tell him where you are. But he will come down hard on Agrabah if I let you slip away like that.”

The djinn held up his hand, watching as the rings glinted in the lamp light. “I’ve had my freedom for two years. Millennia spent in the lamp, at the command of whoever happened to wander by. I’ve had two meager years of freedom and you want me to give it up that easily?”

“It’s a big ask, I know-”

The djinn shook his head, letting his shoulders collapse. “It’s not a big ask, kid. It’s a fucking massive one. Have you any idea what this would mean for me?”

“If you want to run, I won’t stop you.”

Aladdin looked anxious, his shoulders shaking and his chest shuddering. His eyes were tired, weary, broken. And once again the djinn wasn’t seeing the sultan Aladdin. Not the young man that had stood in front of Agrabah and made promises of glory that he planned to keep. Not the young man who had tricked Jafar and won the old sultan’s trust. But he saw Aladdin, the street rat.

Aladdin, the orphaned, broken kid. Betrayed and lost and hurt.

The djinn bit his lip, catching the breath in his chest. It hurt, it stung. Bitter air. Sharp, bitter, traitorous air. Promises of freedom that were broken, that were twisted, that turned stale. Like they always did.

He let the breath out, wrapping an arm around Aladdin’s shoulder and squeezing gently. “I’ll stay, kid.”

He felt Aladdin relax slightly in his arms, still shaking. Breath and words still catch in his chest and throat, but now a little bit easier than before. Not quite calm, but not as rigid and sharp as before.

“I’ll always stay,” the djinn promised, every last word tasting of bitter regret.