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incorrect-fnaf-quotes · 4 months ago

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The Rabbit’s Loss

A quick, little fic about my Vamptrap AU, In Plain Sight :)

—

Through the thin, silky curtains, moonlight managed to make to make its way into the room—but didn’t quite reach either of them.

He paid it no mind. Nor did the rabbit pay any attention to the howling wind outside, or the short bursts of thunder.

Underneath the covers, Clara laid on top of him, her head resting just underneath his chin.

Vamptrap had his arms wrapped around her body—as gently as he possibly could. He’d always been worried about scratching her with his claws... even now.

She was sick. She was sick, and she was weakened. He’d realized that, even before Clara had chosen to explain it.

He didn’t know what it was. Clara must have told him, Vamptrap assumed, but the name wasn’t coming to him. Not now.

It was contagious, Clara had said. But Vamptrap felt no ounce of worry. It wasn’t possible for him to catch anything, after all.

“I shouldn’t go into the village...” She’d added, “I could make the rest sick... perhaps I’ll just remain with you, dear.”

He knew almost nothing of illnesses, except, wasn’t there a typical cure for them? Or, was the bed rest what Clara truly needed?

She had mentioned not wanting to go into the village—which, he supposed make sense. But, perhaps he could do so?

Perhaps he could find someone there? He’d learned of everyone there—there were certainly a few doctors residing there.

However, before Vamptrap could truly ask much else, or make an offer, Clara had fallen asleep.

He didn’t want to leave her. And, she had fallen asleep in this position—atop his chest. What if he awoke her in the process?

A clawed hand rose, lifting the covers up with it—just a little bit. He could see Clara’s sleeping form much more easier.

The room was still rather dark—and yet, he swore that she seemed a little pale. Could it be his imagination, perhaps?

Vamptrap could also see Clara’s neck—the outfit she wore didn’t cover it at all. Perhaps I could...

He started to move his head forwards—only to abruptly stop. Vamptrap lowered his head back onto onto the soft pillow.

No... perhaps I should ask soon. The rabbit’s ears twitched, and he shut his eyes.

—

Licking the blood off from his mouth, Vamptrap made his way through the woods, and back towards the familiar building.

The moment the door was opened, and he barely had time to to take two steps forward, a noise caught his attention.

There was a thud—followed by a shatter. It was further back, yet Vamptrap could still tell where exactly it was coming from.

He slammed the door shut, and started a run—only to abruptly be halted. Growling in frustration, Vamptrap twisted around.

The end of his cape, it seemed, had been caught and trapped by the door. Vamptrap twisted back around.

Choosing not to bother with the door itself, the rabbit simply tugged, and tugged, before his cape was finally freed.

He didn’t bother to check if his cape had been torn or not in the process, either. He just ran, and ran, through the building.

It was easy for Vamptrap to reach his room—except for the times where he nearly tripped over his cape.

By the time he got there, the door was wide open. Inside, Clara was doubled over in one of the corners.

For the past few days, he’d have hoped that she would start getting better—that bed rest was simply what she needed, but...

Today, she looked so pale. Her hair looked rather messy—Vamptrap couldn’t recall if he had helped brush it earlier.

She was on the floor, and below her, a large puddle of vomit was spilt all over—it seemed as if the woman had just finished.

Beside her, there was a nightstand—and pieces of a vase were scattered all over the side of it. Had she hit it when getting out?

“Clara!”

Her head turned at the voice. He reached the woman in three large steps—and crouched down, his arms beginning to wrap around her.

“S-Sorry...” She hoarsely spoke up, her eyes glancing towards the puddle for a moment. “I... I was going to try to-“

“Never mind that, Darling. I don’t care about that.” Vamptrap kept one arm wrapped around her back, while he moved the other towards his cape.

While Clara began to move pieces of her hair away, Vamptrap moved his cape forwards, and began wiping at her face.

“You haven’t gone into the village, Clara... you say it is contagious,” Vamptrap began, frowning. Clara’s eyes drifted back to the ground.

“If you will not go there, then why not allow me to find someone, and bring them to-“

“You can’t.”

“What?” Vamptrap released the grip on his cape, and and it fell back onto the floor beside him.

“You... can’t.” Clara repeated, speaking a little slower this time. She shook her head. “You can’t. This... there is no cure.”

Vamptrap stared, silent.

—

As the days continued to progress, the rabbit took notice of many things. How she seemed to slumber far more often, and for far longer, for example.

Vamptrap was remaining home—not having gone out into the woods, or into the village, for some time. He hadn’t had blood in awhile.

Clara always enjoyed going through the woods at night—it was peaceful. Of course, Vamptrap enjoyed doing so, too.

Until he had met her, he’d only gone through the woods to reach the village, or to collect some blood—which didn’t quite take long.

The walks were always nice. Vamptrap had started to consider picking her up, and carrying her for a walk. Would she enjoy that, he wondered?

But... he did not want to disturb her. What if she wanted to remain inside? Would she prefer to remain underneath the covers?

Last he’d been out, it had started to get rather chilly. She’s never done great with the cold... Vamptrap noted.

As Clara shifted around atop him, Vamptrap sucked in a breath. A clawed hand twitched, and the rabbit grabbed at the edge of the covers.

As thoughts began to push their way forwards, Vamptrap shut his eyes. “Clara...” He spoke gently.

“...Yes?” Vamptrap hadn’t expected a response—he’d assumed she’d remain asleep for the remainder of today. Hearing her voice was a delight.

Her voice was barely above a whisper, and it was filled with exhaustion—yet, Vamptrap could hear the love within.

“Why...” He sighed, and found himself beginning to sit up—supporting Clara in the process. She wrapped her arms around him.

“Why... what?”

“Why are you being so calm? Why? You are not well... you have an incurable illness, as you’ve said.” Vamptrap cleared his throat. “And you are going...”

The rest of the words became trapped somewhere within his throat, and Vamptrap tried to force them to come out.

He cleared his throat once more—and again—and took a breath. But, as a noise that could be considered a word finally began to escape-

“...Going to die? Is that... what you were... going to say?” Clara softly questioned.

Vamptrap grunted, and he pulled a hand forwards, placing it against her arm. “Yes. Yes! That... that will happen, Clara. You will die... I will lose you...”

“You know you are going to die, Love. You know that very well,” He almost squeezed at her arm, but feared harming her. “And yet, you are calm. You have been calm.”

Clara began to open her mouth—yet, Vamptrap found himself continuing. “You don’t have to go. I don’t have to lose you. I could turn you-“

Before he had his chance to finish, Clara lifted a weak hand, and placed it against Vamptrap’s mouth. The woman shook her head.

“No... no,” Clara groaned, “I do not wish to become a vampire. It... is not what... I want.”

Her hand slid down from Vamptrap’s mouth, yet, for the moment, he was silent. She was not.

“You’ve... asked me why I am calm, dear. Correct?” At a nod, Clara continued. “I have... lived quite a full life. I have done things I expected, and thing’s I have not...”

Her hand rose once more, and this time, she placed it against Vamptrap’s cheek. Vamptrap set his own atop hers.

When he glanced at it, he caught a glimpse of her shining ring—of which he had searched so long for. Vamptrap never saw her without it.

“I have met... the most wonderful man, even if under strange circumstances,” She admitted, “...And I am glad to have spent these years with you...”

A tiny smile found its way onto Vamptrap’s lips.

“I know everyone has a time... and while I am saddened that... I won’t be able to spend more moments with you, dear...” Clara sighed.

“...It is my time, and I... have come to accept that. Please, I do not wish... to become a vampire.” Clara felt herself growing more tired.

“So, dear, why don’t we... try to enjoy the time left...?”

A few seconds went by, before the silent Vamptrap nodded.

—

In the living room, he found himself pacing. Vamptrap had been doing so for nearly half an hour.

He was silent, other than his footsteps on the tiles. The rabbit’s ears twitched from the noises coming from outside.

The most prominent seemed to be a rather loud owl—but he paid none of it any attention. It never broke him away from the thoughts.

Vamptrap’s pacing finally came to a halt. He spun around, making his way for the main bedroom.

There, Clara slept peacefully beneath the covers. He could still hear her breathing—although, it didn’t sound quite right.

Slowly, he approached—trying to be as quiet as possible. Yet, the floors tended to creak quite a lot. She wasn’t a heavy sleeper by any means.

Vamptrap could recall when he’d first allowed her to share the room with him, rather than having her in the guest bedroom.

It had been on the same night as when she’d chosen to live with him, rather than remaining within the village itself.

It had been a suggestion from her that he had found himself quick to agree on.

Clara always slept atop him, and Vamptrap always kept his arms wrapped around her. He didn’t truly need to sleep, but he still did so.

Clara was always warm.

Reaching the side of the bed, Vamptrap exhaled. Carefully, he moved the top of the blanket, and moved it down, just a little.

Then, Vamptrap lowered himself. He could see her neck. All it takes is two bites... He inched closer. I would not have to see her go...

She would not have to go... and we could be together for such a longer time. Vamptrap opened his mouth, revealing his fangs.

As he finally got close enough, Clara groaned lightly, and seemed to mutter something as she shifted. It almost sounded like his name.

Yet, she was not awake. She was still asleep. Clara must have been dreaming about him. He hoped it was a good dream.

Vamptrap’s eyes drifted towards the floor, and he shook his head. No. No, she said that isn’t what she would want...

Closing his eyes, Vamptrap moved forwards again—only to place a kiss against Clara’s cheek, and return to his full height.

—

He’d made her favorite food. Or... well, tried. Admittedly, Vamptrap was never good when it came to thing’s like that.

After he’d met Clara, she’d started teaching him every once in awhile—how to cook, how to bake...

Vamptrap could remember, before one of his beloveds birthdays, asking her about a specific food. He’d tried his best at a birthday breakfast.

And, today, he had tried harder. Vamptrap knew it was her favorite food—she ate it almost every single day.

He didn’t need to eat, either. Yet, he still did so. On multiple occasions, Vamptrap remembered tasting it.

Vamptrap could certainly see why it was her favorite food—it was quite tasty.

The instant he entered the bedroom... nothing felt right. Vamptrap tensed.

Ahead of him, Clara laid. She was still underneath the covers—but not fully. He could see most of her upper body, but not the rest.

She was still. She looked so, so still. Her eyes were shut—which he would not have questioned if she were simply sleeping. But...

Nothing felt right.

Tossing the bowl aside, Vamptrap quickened the pace to reach her side, a frown plastered across his face.

He could not hear her breathing, and the closer he got, Vamptrap couldn’t see her rising and falling.

Once close enough, he found himself scrambling onto the bed, and reaching for Clara.

The moment Vamptrap made contact with her...

She felt so cold.

There was no warmth.

Vamptrap thought he heard a whimper escape from his throat. He pulled Clara—who stayed limp within his grasp—closer. No...

He’d put an ear against her chest, listening.

He’d checked both of her wrists.

Vamptrap scrambled to check each way that he had learned... but there was nothing. There was nothing at all. Nothing.

Clara was gone.

He held her close, ignoring how his hands were beginning to shake. Vamptrap shut his eyes tightly, taking a breath.

“Oh, Clara...” Vamptrap whispered, “I’ll always love you...”

#Not a quote #Save tag #In Plain Sight #Vamptrap AU #FNaF #Clara Afton #Mrs. Afton #Springtrap #Vamptrap #Spring’s Chatter #Anubis’s Writing #FNaF AU

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talietikasero · 3 years ago

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Stability

Random prompt from 8/11 [finished 8/16]: rewrite the Strive ending / create an alternate epilogue [to line up with my story project]. I may or may not rewrite the whole thing for fun lmao.

[Main story preview here (contains 6 scenes)] // [Chapter 1 now on AO3]

"I guess... that's what they meant..." She let out between huffs. Both the voice in her head and the former Sanctus Maximus Populi said the same thing regarding her potential ability.

“When the time comes, with your seed, you hold the power to save or destroy the world.”

“You can prevent the end of it all.”

Energy drained, she fought off the sluggish pace her body was moving. Looking over to her partner, she noticed he was barely hanging on to his life, staying incredibly still, and trying to regulate his breathing while facing down. While her body contained the [Scales of Juno], he had the [Flame of Corruption] ripped out from his, reverting him to a human. "On second thought, don't move." Once she closed the distance between them, she knelt and put her arms around him. Face against the scuffed leather sleeve, and she struggled to hold her emotions in. "H-hey..." Voice cracking, she lowly muttered between sniffles, "please, don't go..."

"..."

"You... you stayed true to... your word about... a-about..."

"..."

"Fighting to... s-save the world..."

"If the world was going to disappear tomorrow... What would you do today?"

"What kind of a question is that? Stop whatever's ending the world or die trying."

Her embrace tightened as tears ran down her face. "Human, Gear, or neither. The world still needs you."

With drooped ears and saddened eyes, the wolf spirit whined. Its host and companion soothed it by scratching behind its ears and reassuring the worst had come to pass. "(It's okay, Rei. We're still alive.)." She whispered to the spirit in her native tongue. Another whine followed by a lick to the side of her face, Giovanna patted Rei's forehead. "What? Are you worried about me? I'm okay, I swear." She winced as another sharp pain ran through her body. "Ouch..." Her superior, the President, placed a hand on her shoulder. Half-expecting him to say she's no longer needed, she began, "I'm sorry-..."

"None of that." Vernon's voice was firm; however, it sounded... fatherly. He may have his doubts about the agent, but he knew she was more than capable of the job. Facing off against an unstoppable force, she did prove she's worth giving a higher position. "I can tell what you were thinking, but you're not being let go. You take as much time as you need off, Gio. Goldlewis, Erica, and I will await your return."

Saddened at the loss of someone he could consider a friend, the time traveler meekly looked down at the minty green and white guitar he held in his hands. This entire time he was unaware of her true identity. If he had to lose someone like her, it didn't have to be this way. Regardless of if she recalled who he was and why he was important to her in the first place, false memory or not. He threw away his chance to return home a while ago, and now he felt that it would've been for nothing had he gone through with it. "It shouldn't have ended like this... Megumi." Axl softly said under his breath.

After regaining control over his body and revealing the wicked goddess's weak point, the vampiric samurai pierced the ground a few centimeters with his sword. He kneeled to show his appreciation for defeating the evil force that used him as a puppet. Now, he could see why his master was fascinated by the will of a single person. This same person was stripped of his powers and still faced death head-on. "May you rest for now. The next time we meet, it won't be as enemies, but acquaintances." Drawing his blade from the ground, Nagoriyuki sheathed it and took his leave.

The King of Illyria – his lifelong rival and their son-in-law – made his way over to them, stopping a few feet short to maintain distance. "It's finally over. They're gone. We can... we can go home now." Part of him wanted to hold a hand out to help him stand, yet he held back and deemed that action unnecessary. Ky's spirits rose once he noticed the man in front of him was taking steady deep breaths -- body slowly moving to show signs of life.

Right hand maintaining its grip on the Outrage's handle, his free hand lightly grasped one of hers. Face still downward, a weak smile formed. "...You think so?"

She couldn't believe it. He's hanging by a thread and using what energy he should be saving to answer her with a question of his own.

"I know so."

The past three weeks were a blur. From the day she woke up and adjusted to this new world to the present, where she aided in bringing down a god. She never would've guessed that any of these events could've transpired. In the days leading up to September 2016, she was a terminally ill scientist who refused any life-saving alternative to live past what little time she had left, insisting she spent it with her significant other. Fast forward to December 2187, and she was brought back to life and became the partner of humanity's savior -- the very same person, albeit for the last time.

_____

The next day, another patient was checked into the hospital. This time there wasn’t a commotion caused by bringing his unconscious form bursting through the front doors. She wasn’t strong enough to carry him in her arms like he held her – that’s what the gurney from the airship’s infirmary wing was for.

“I have a request. May I stay here until he recovers? I… I don’t want to leave him.”

Three days later, word had reached his family that he's – miraculously and defying all odds – alive. His refusal to follow the light after what had happened was attributed to his stubborn nature. The Grim Reaper knocked at his door, and he slammed it shut in their face. Occupying the same bed, in the same patient room as her around a month ago, the now de-powered hero lay hooked up to the vitals system.

"Is he going to be alright?"

"Hard to say, but he'll pull through. He did wake up this morning, so there's something, yeah?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but has anyone seen my mother? About my height, short red hair with white underneath, and wearing a blue leather jacket? She hasn't been seen since everyone returned."

"She's in the room and hasn't left at all. I had someone stop by the house and bring her spare clothes since she spent the last four days here."

"Oh, thank god." The queen was relieved to know her mother's whereabouts. She respected her parents' privacy by not asking if she was able to go in.

---

Ring-ring. Ring-ring. Ring-ring-ring.

Sighing in aggravation, she answered her phone. There was only one person she kept in contact with these past few days. "What do you want now? He's still not up, so stop cal-..."

"I was going to ask something else. I'm going to regret this, but are you still angry?"

"You're a smart man to keep your distance from me, but a dumbass to ask that. Of course, I am! You ruined our lives with your 'self-righteousness' and nearly brought another apocalypse."

"...Aria, I understand your rage. If only I could rewind time and prevent your illness. I shouldn't have forcibly converted him and disappeared with your sleep capsule. It wasn't my intention to have our research weaponized, but I was figuratively and literally held at gunpoint to hand it over to the US Government. I should've known better and anticipated that Chaos -- erm, the Original's creation would sabotage your activation. Your screams still haunt me... and... I'm... I'm sorry."

"Asuka."

"I can't fix this by excessively apologizing and listing off my crimes, but I hope everything goes well for you and Frederick."

"Whatever. Enjoy the moon, or don't." She ended the call before her former friend could reply. "Asshole." Aria slumped back in the chair and opened her book to the page she left off. "We should've launched you into the sun."

"Oh my. And I thought 'Sol' was a hothead. You're pretty harsh, you know that? It's more frightening than I-No on a good day." Jack-O's voice rang through. Capable of feeling and expressing emotions herself, the Valentine was taken aback at what she heard during their calls. "If possible, can we listen to his show sometime? Please?"

"...Okay."

"Thank you. ~"

---

Forty minutes after the heated conversation, a groggy voice broke the silence.

"Is the... afterlife a sterile... hospital room?" Frederick's eyes were half-open, staring directly at the ceiling.

Aria closed what she was reading and placed it on the counter. Ignoring the monitors that once kept track of her, she looked over his body to see minimal damage sustained. "Looks like you've still got some of that healing factor. Or you're just too hardheaded to die."

He slightly turned his head to face her. "Heh. Probably both."

Running a hand through his now short hair, her lips curved into an unsure smile. "Welcome back to the land of the living?"

"This doesn't look like heaven. If you're my welcome guide, then I'll stay." His body was still sore, but he extended his arm out for her to hold his hand. The warmth from the fire magic still dwelling within them made their contact feel safer.

"I should've worn that jumpsuit and halo." Her inner voice's reaction was an exaggerated throat clear. "But if I did," she held a finger to her temple, "I don't think she would've appreciated that."

"I would've been mildly annoyed at best. Mildly annoyed yet honored that you'd wear it because of what you did."

"You're really pissed off at Asuka, aren't you?"

"How much did you hear?"

"All of it. Didn't know you were capable of that."

"I felt like you after the second day." He took that as a friendly poke at his history. "Since you've saved the world for the last time, are you still up for that 'alternate life' you mentioned the other night? We don't have to stay at Ky and Dizzy's. They can arrange something for us."

His ears perked up at the suggestion. Did she remind him about his statement regarding them settling down? Having survived an act of God, living a quiet life together a few minutes out from the capital didn't sound like a terrible idea. "What did you have in mind?"

"A fair-sized home, nothing too big or small, probably just down the way from their place. I don't want to throw everything away and live in seclusion. We're way out of our own time, but we finally have a family, people who care about us, and we care about them in return. Unless you have a better idea?"

"I'm fine with anything. Can't imagine I'd be able to go out much or at all because I'm officially a dead man."

"Not too long ago, I was a dead woman walking. Besides, the world thinks that Sol Badguy is dead, not Frederick Bulsara."

"Point there. You know, now that I think about it, this situation is just like a month ago."

"With you in my place, but I didn't have to be dragged in? This is the same room where I spent my time recovering. It was also -..."

"Where you got your new start."

"Y-yeah. That's exactly it. This is where I woke up to my new life! Not as Justice, or Jack-O, but as myself. That same day, I met our daughter and her husband, and then I saw you again. Just this time... I've been here since you were checked in. Everyone tried to get me to leave, but I refused."

He noticed the duffel bag placed near the door. There was a pant leg hanging over one side of the unzipped bag, and next to it were two pairs of footwear. "Way to tug at the old heartstrings. Stubborn as always, aren't you?" If he were honest with himself, he wanted to do the same when she was still unconscious. He had the feeling that the IRMC staff wouldn't have thought about asking him to leave the premises, even though he almost kicked the doors clean off the first time.

"One of my best qualities." She winked at him, giggling at her remark.

"Hey, Aria."

"Hm?"

He slowly sat up despite the mild pain, leaning over to bring her in for a hug. "Thank you."

Aria returned the motion, both holding onto each other, not wanting to let go. She had felt incomplete up until this moment. Preventing the end was a combined effort, and she couldn’t be any happier to have been a part of that team.

A sense of déjà vu, the song playing on the radio had neared its end.

You are all I long for All I worship and adore In other words, please be true In other words...

"I love you."

#guilty gear #aria hale #only tagging her since she's the main character of this little project #other characters in this mini prompt: sol axl giovanna nagoriyuki and vernon #also ky asuka and jack-o #the main fic's about 90 percent done #and i wrote this because i hit writer's block for two days #i'm ending the main fic's chapter 3 at the beginning of ggst so i may do some more rewrites #the song at the end is the brenda lee version of fly me to the moon #nat's fanfics #ah whoopsie it's 5am #by the energy drain i intended for her to jump into god i-no's body like in the actual story mode #but then she was torn out after starting the halting process

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imaginativeamateur · 4 years ago

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HEY!!!! I read your kakashi x reader in which kakshi takes care of tired reader and it was *chef’s kiss* so i was thinking if you could a kakashi x reader in which the reader gets poisoned during a mission. They get a small scratch so it does not work quickly. So when they get home, they start to feel a bit dizzy and then start coughing up blood LOTS of blood ( if you don’t mind). So kakashi gets worried and takes them to the hospital. When they get there tsunade tells them it is a rare type of poison so they will need a day or two to make the antidote. So the reader is in pain and coughing up blood. Kakashi tries their best to comfort them. Sorry it is long. Feel free to ignore it. Sorry for bad english. THANK YOU ✨

[Kakashi Hatake X Reader] Unbearable

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x gn!Reader

Note: Firstly, I'm glad that you like that piece, anon:D and your idea is fantastic!!! Okay, this one is a bit longer than what I usually write for, probably around 2,000 words. It's a mix of angst and fluff, the ending is fluffy though. And I didn't know what to name this one either:D Without further ado, please enjoy!

You pushed the door open, exclaiming happily when you finally got to sniff the familiar scent of his signature dishes, “I’m home, Kakashi!”

“How was your mission, love?” Wiping his palms on a handkerchief, he lifted his eyes from the pan to quickly examine if you had any injuries.

“Absolutely successful! We captured and brought the rebels back for investigation. My captain will be reporting it to the Hokage so I’m off for now!” You made your way next to him in the kitchen, pulling off your gloves in the process, “What are you making?”

Kakashi went off talking about the dishes he was preparing for your dinner but your mind turned fuzzy in the middle of his sentence. You lost your balance and tumbled backward as your sight blurred, not able to see anything clearly. With his quick reflex, the Copy Ninja caught you by your forearm and guided you to the floor, constantly asking if you were okay. Kakashi’s visible eye widened, brows furrowing as his hands roamed to search for any injuries that his eyes did not catch. You had no fatal wounds except for several scratches here and there, and he could sense your depleted chakra level. Lifting your body up in his arms, he whispered as he carried you to your shared bedroom, “You probably overused your chakra again. You should be back to normal tomorrow after a good rest.”

You sprawled tiredly in your bed, having no appetite for a meal and Kakashi respected it, he knew when it came to reviving a Ninja’s chakra, nothing would be able to beat some decent sleep. He let you stay by yourself for a few hours and went to finish his reports, returning to check on you once in a while. When he was finally done with work, Kakashi quietly slipped under the blanket on his side of the bed, carefully scooted closer to your warmth, hugged you close, and peacefully closed his eyes. In the middle of the night, you were woken up by the burning sensation that coursed through your entire body and a terrible headache, having just enough time to flip onto your side in case you would vomit right then and there. And you suddenly coughed, your throat was torn when the crimson liquid spattered onto the white tiles, bled your shirt, and dripped down from your chin. Being a light sleeper, the silver-haired immediately shot up from his pillow, switched the lights on, and scrambled down to the ground. You were trembling for the time being, and within a split second, Kakashi scooped your motionless body in his arms, rushing for the hospital.

He knew for sure that you were poisoned given the symptoms that were starting to surface. The hospital workers were greatly intimidated by the threatening aura that he sent, still hugging you tight as he brought you to the operation room himself. You continued to cough in his arms, and he did not mind his turtleneck being covered entirely by your blood. Tsunade arrived with a hurried disposition, and Sakura followed close behind her lead. Kakashi immediately reported your condition to the Fifth Hokage, grimacing when he saw blood pooling on the hospital bed as the Medic’s chakra slowly entered your body. He fought to retain himself—to not sprint to your side and cradle you tight, to not bring his hand up and wipe the blood staining the corner of your lips. It was all too much to him to see you panting in agony—

“Sakura,” the blonde Medic commanded, “set up for poison extraction. Get three more people.”

The pink-haired left the room after her teacher’s assignment, fleeting on her feet when she saw your tightly shut eyes and Kakashi’s scary expression as though he was going to burn the place down. Tsunade turned to the Copy Ninja, who was leaning against the wall with a visible eye that settled a tone darker, and called, “Kakashi, I need you to hold Y/N down when I extract the poison.”

He shuddered, unsure if he would still be able to maintain the last bit of composure left. The silver-haired found it impossible to remain himself when came to your safety, but he padded to your side, shaking hands reaching out to the pale face of yours. The Godaime assured him that everything would be okay and the man took a deep breath, moving his palms to rest on both of your shoulders as the rest of the team arrived, getting to work the second they passed the door. Kakashi held onto your upper body and arms, pinning you down onto the bed when the blonde started to focus chakra on her hands. “It’ll hurt, make sure Y/N stays still,” she said before the glowing green entered your body.

Kakashi could feel his sweats running cold against his temple, his uncovered eye fixed on Tsunade's hands, periodically glancing back at your face to make sure that you were fine. His grip on your wrists was tight but not bruising, fearing that it would add to the pain that you were already enduring from the poison. The Copy Ninja had his other forearm across your shoulder blades, pressing your torso in place as the Medic worked diligently. It hurt and you yelped, shrieking from the pure pain every time her chakra seeped inside. Kakashi was restless, biting on his own lips to halt himself from releasing his grasp and hug you tight. Your eyes turned dull when Tsunade finally got the last bit of poison out of your system, heavily placing your head back onto the damp pillow as the silver-haired wiped the sweats on your forehead. When all of you thought it was over, things took a different turn—for worse.

Pain suddenly shot through your body, and you started to cough more vigorously than earlier, blood covered the white sheets of the hospital bed. The whole room turned their attention back on your figure, your eyelashes fluttered, wincing when you felt the tiniest bits of your muscles being squeezed and ripped apart. Kakashi stepped back when he looked at his hands smeared by your blood, and grimaced, “… Didn’t you get the poison out already?”

The Medic furrowed her brows, examining the extract she got in a test tube, “It’s my first time seeing this type.”

Kakashi went feral, “How long?”

The sounds of your coughs filled the quiet atmosphere of the operation room. Every ticking of the clock seemed too audibly loud each passing second the blonde observed the Copy Ninja’s face. She eventually sighed and turned to the exit, “I’m not sure. It will take a while for us to create the antidote.”

“You can’t leave Y/N suffering like this, Lady Tsunade,” he breathed out laboriously, “I can’t.”

Kakashi’s words left his lips like a desperate plea as he stared at the ground. Tsunade shut her eyes to summon enough vigor to walk out of the room. Sakura hesitantly left shortly after, silently closing the door after sending her former sensei a sympathetic look. With shaking legs that were almost unable to hold him up, the silver-haired made his way to a chair beside your bed, tracing his thumb across your lips to wipe the bloodstain away. As a Shinobi, he was too accustomed to seeing open wounds and deep gashes—too familiar with his body covered in blood after a mission, especially when he got injured. But seeing you in this state made him crumble in dejection and turmoil.

“Kakashi,” your inaudible whisper pulled him out of his deep thoughts, “what if I…”

Before you were able to finish your sentence, Kakashi hushed you with a sign as he pulled the blanket up to your chest, “Don’t say anything, love. I’m not going to let you…” And he trailed off, finding it hardly possible to continue what he was saying. You were still in pain, forehead scrunched up to restrain the groans from eliciting, tight fists hidden under the cover because you did not want him to be more distressed than he already was. Kakashi slouched his back, head dropping into his palms, cursing under his breath, “I should’ve come with you, should’ve been more careful, should’ve gotten you to the hospital sooner. I-I’m sorry, Y/N… Please, please just be okay.”

His words fell apart, slipping past his lips muffled and croaked. It had been a long while since he last felt the wet droplets tittering on the edge of his lash line—range and misery boiled in his veins as he swore to himself this would be the last time he would see you like this for as long as he was alive. He did not dare to look at you, not when he had to helplessly witness his dearest person suffering. Your breathing decelerated, the sweats beading your hairline and neck had long evaporated, and you fell asleep between his soft whispers, exhausted and drained.

Every hour passed with dread for everyone. Each time Tsunade came back to check on you set up a thin wall of hope but it all shattered shortly when she shook her head and withdrew out of the room. You were coughing less, but that did not ease the Copy Ninja because you were shriveling impossibly lifeless. You could not swallow whatever food they supplied, only able to intake water and intravenous fluid. It was after lunch when Tsunade knocked on the door—two days since you were brought to the hospital, one day since you went unconscious—and Kakashi went to slide it open for her. No longer displayed a hopeful expression, he could not bear the disappointment and emptiness from the Medic’s shake of her head. But this time, Tsunade came with good news.

“We found the antidote.”

A single sentence from the blonde levitated the somber atmosphere that was clouding Kakashi’s mind. A contented smile found its way across his lips—though covered by the mask, Tsunade could clearly see his pupil dilating and the furrow between his brows starting to slowly vanish. With a quick move, she injected the solution into your arm with Kakashi watching closely, not letting any details went unnoticed.

“The fever should be gone after lunch, I’m not quite sure when Y/N will wake up though. That depends on an individual’s ability to recover.” She stated, “You two take care.”

The silver-haired thanked the Godaime and shut the door after she had left for several seconds. Then, he went back for a quick shower—the last thing he wanted was you worrying for his enervated appearance after two days without rest—not forgetting to plant a kiss on your forehead before leaving. When he returned, Kakashi brought a basket of fresh fruits with him, carefully peeling oranges and placing them on a plate for you in advance. He even went as far as bringing your pillow because you would be staying for another few days, and he wanted to make you feel comfortable. After checking over everything, he leaned his head back and closed his eye, stealing a quick nap with your hand in his—so he would know when you wake up.

The moment your eyes fluttered open, you quickly scanned the room, and your gaze settled on the very Hatake sleeping peacefully, then to his fingers intertwining yours. You let out a soft breath, “Thank you, Kakashi.”

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Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @thenightfallingstar @iam-gaaras-loveintrest @animepickle7

#kakashi x you #kakashi x y/n #kakashi imagines #kakashi hatake x you #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi fluff #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi angst

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winchesterxxi · 4 years ago

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Enough is Enough (Poe Dameron x Reader)

Rating: T (Teen and Up)

Type: Angst

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Female!Reader

Summary: Reader and Poe have been arguing for over a week and completely avoiding each other. This has come to the attention to the person that happens to be your third wheel most of the time - Finn. Along with BB8 and Rey they come up with a plan to get the two of you talking.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Swearing

A/N: I’m back baby.

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It’s only 8am on a Monday and you already feel like murdering people.

Your fiancé to be exact.

As soon as your alarm had sounded across the room, you jumped out of bed and headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You brushed your teeth and hair, got dressed and walked out into the bedroom, striding across it and out the other door.

Poe was awake, facing the door, and he saw you walk out, eyes trailing after your back but a scowl firm on his face. He really had fucked up, and he knew it. But for fuck’s sake, you’re both adults, if you are going to give him the silent treatment like a child, he is not above doing the same to you.

So out he goes. He rises from the bed, tired hand running through his unruly curls at the same time as a yawn proceeding to complete his morning routine, before striding across the same path as you, grabbing his pilot jacket in the process.

The cantina was packed – it’s a Monday morning, of course it is. Pilots, mechanics and Resistance workers from all branches crammed along the trayline trying to get the freshest pieces of toast or the juiciest pieces of fruit before the others could get to them.

Poe doesn’t blame them. Most of these people were either on the brick of hunger and homelessness or being deprived of their needs by the Empire before they had been recruited the Resistance and the fact that they now had warm meals every day for which they paid with their own sweat, was something to be cherished.

The latter case resembled that of Finn who he spotted at one of the tables, and he made a b line to seat next to his friend. Upon getting closer he noticed that Finn was sitting in front of Rey who, in her turn was sitting next to…you.

That’s fine. This is fine. This is absolutely fine.

Before going to the table, Poe decides to take a detour and get some breakfast before sitting down. Because he was hungry. Not because this would buy him some time before inevitably sitting down in front of you and try to contain the immense annoyance you’ve been causing him for the past week.

After a few moments, Poe looks down at his tray and its fullness, food about to spill out – more food than he could ever possibly stomach. He closes his eyes and sighs before an Ewok is pushing him away from where he stood in front of the pastry baskets. Straightening himself back up, Poe finally walks up to the table, flashing a smile at Finn before setting his tray down next to him and sitting in front of you.

When he passes your side you can sense his cologne invade your nostrils and, somehow, that only makes you angrier.

“Morning, pilot.” Rey teases but her smile quickly retracts once she spots the scowl on both your faces, looking from Poe to you and to him again. Finn senses the heavy energy and eyes Rey who gives him a silent clueless shrug.

“So,” Finn asks “what plans does the Dameron couple have for today?”

It’s as if the guy read your minds.

“I don’t know of any couple that goes by that name.” You mumble into your spoon of oatmeal and Poe’s eyes zero in on you.

Panic flashes across Finn and Rey’s once they hear you. Did the two of you break up? Is the wedding off?

“People are individuals, you know, Finn.” You settle down your spoon and turn your face to him, elaborating with a tone that had a slight taint of menace in it “Even though a couple is in a relationship they remain individuals.” You point the tone in word individuals, eyes narrowing to the man in front of you. Rey and Finn exchange a look.

“The fact that people are individuals doesn’t mean they can’t share a part of the other’s identity.” He snakes into the rim of his cup of coffee, eyes never leaving yours.

“It does if that meant they had to give up a part of their own identity.” You snap back, voice low.

“I’m not sure I follow.” Rey wavers and looks between the two of you.

“Thing is, Rey.” You turn to her “and Finn… there is no Dameron couple. There is a Poe Dameron and Y/N Y/L/N couple. But I’m not even too sure of that now.”

Poe puts his mug of coffee down a little too abruptly as he leaned forward, elbows on the table.

“Are you really that entitled?”

“I’m the one who’s entitled? Have you heard yourself speak lately?” you mimic his movements, leaning forward on your own side of the table

“Why is it such a big deal for you?”

“Because it’s who I am!” you borderline-scream and get all of the cantina’s attention drawn to you, specifically those of the two people sitting next to you, looking in shock at your sudden outburst, which they’d never even gotten a glimpse of.

You and Poe hold each other’s gaze for a long while, focused on nothing but each other and the mix of rage and hurt rumbling inside of you. And when you can’t help your lips from trembling and your eyes to burn with tears, you swear you can see something break inside of him.

He himself swore he was about to break this stupid game the minute he saw your face. For the glimpse of a second, he felt like reaching his hand up to cup your face, or to hold your hand or to stroke your jawline in that way that calmed you down. But before he could act on his impulses, you stormed out of the cantina, leaving behind your cooling breakfast and a torn Poe.

“What did you do?” Rey asks horrified at what she just witness and somewhat ready to throw fists at the man who seemingly broke her friend’s heart.

“It’s not what I did it’s what I said.” He mumbles and stands up from his own seat and, just like you, leaving behind an untouched tray of food and a half cup of coffee while Finn and Rey follow him with their gaze.

It was nice of Rey to ask you to go out for drinks tonight. Not just that, but she didn’t ask questions – she didn’t throw you a pity what was that about? or are you okay? Because it obviously wasn’t. It wasn’t and you don’t think it would ever be again.

So here you were, walking into a low-light bar in Canto Bight in your favourite pair of dress and shoes with nothing in your mind but the drink you were eager to order and the friend you were looking forward to meeting – a luxury that, just a few months ago would not have been possible. When you’re fighting for your own survival, a night at the bar isn’t exactly your top priority, but that was in the past.

Straightening yourself up, you smooth your dress and walk over to the table with the number she had told you – number 15. Upon reaching it, you sat down facing the door and nudging away the waiter who comes by to ask if you’d like a drink. There was no way in the galaxy you were starting the drinking night alone. Maker knows how that would end.

It had just been a few minutes of fidgeting with the table towel when you look up to the bar’s entrance and your eyes meet the last person you wanted to see. Poe. And damn, if it weren’t for the current situation he would’ve knocked the wind right out of you.

He looked good. Shinny curls and a fresh face with his good leather jacket. He looked really good. And you hated him for that.

He didn’t quite spot you until he was halfway across the bar in the direction you were sitting in, eyes coming into focus on your figure as you quickly stood up and took a small step back. Standing to your full height, Poe swears he’d never seen you look so perfect, which made the energy between the two of you all the more painful.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, hugging your arms close to your body.

“I’m here to meet Finn.” He replies, hands nervously spasming by his side, a habit you’d come to know and love.

“On this table?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m here to meet Rey.” You answer quietly, scoffing.

“It’s a two people table.” He says matter-of-factly.

“And they’re not here.”

“But we are.”

Realization struck the both of you and Poe runs a hand over his exasperated face as you throw your head back and close your eyes. He sighs deeply before bringing one hand up to his hip.

“Can we then at least talk?”

You scoff at him.

“No.” Is your simple one-word answer before you try and make your way to the door, which he blocks.

“Y/N –“

“No. Are you going to let me pass?” he doesn’t move.

“For fuck’s sake Y/N.”

You scowl and turn around striding to where you know to be an elevator – if you can’t get out, at least you can go up. At this point, being on a different floor was enough. You can hear him mumbling words behind you but you try to pay him no intention, beyond grateful that the elevator’s doors opened as soon as you clicked the button.

“Fuck you Dameron.”

Stepping in, your not quick enough to press the closing button before Poe is slithering between the almost-closed doors and stepping into the same space as you.

“Oh, now you’re okay with using my last name?”

“When addressing you? Yeah, totally.” You nudge him so you can reach the buttons and press R for rooftop. He does a double-take on you before running his fingers across all the floors. You look up at him incredulously. “Really mature.”

“Mature is talking. And we are going to talk.”

“There is nothing to talk about!”

“Will you talk to me?”

“I don’t want t---” you were about to scream when the elevator came to a halt and you stumbled into Poe’s arms, before standing right up, the lights above you flickering.

“Great! Just what we needed.” he throws his hands up in the air, and now you really thought you could slap him across his beautiful face.

“Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t pressed all the buttons like a kid!”

- Meanwhile, above the elevator -

“BB8.” Finn whisper yells from the open door, three floors above. “How long can you hold them?”

The poor droid, with his little tools stuck in the flashing wires, beeps in response.

“He said maybe 5 more minutes.” Rey translates, before flopping back on the floor and away from the open door and the empty elevator space. After a few moments in silence, she nudges Finn’s side.

“Don’t you think this is adding fuel to the fire?”

“They just need to talk. Plus they’ve been avoiding each other. We’re doing them a favour.”

- Back on the elevator –

Taking in a deep breath you lean back against one of the elevator’s golden mirror walls.

“Why did you get like that when I said I wanted to keep my name?”

“I… do you really hate the idea of being called a Dameron so much?” his voice is small as he stands in the middle of the floor, eyes searching yours.

“It’s not that! I just… I hate the idea that just because we’re getting married I need to give up being called by my last name. I never wanted that! It’s not because it’s you. I told myself that if I ever was to get married I’d never take another man’s name.” Tears are back at pooling at the corners of your eyes as you turn your head slightly to look into Poe’s sad face.

“Or maybe you just don’t want to be known as the ex-spice-runner’s-wife.” His statement is but a whisper as his voice gets caught in the back of his throat and you have never seen him this close to tears.

That’s what does it for you. That’s what makes you reach forward and grab his warm face in your hands, guiding him to look at you.

“Hey, hey… That is not true. Don’t you ever think that. I love you. I love you for who you were, who you are and who you’re yet to be… which I hope to be there to cherish.” The tears roll down both your cheeks as a breathy chuckle leaves you. “It’s not about your name. It’s about mine. And I… it really hurt me when you said those things. Acting as if me keeping my name was a sin or something.”

He averts your gaze, looking at the floor but you motion his face back to where it was.

“Hey. Here…” you guide one of his hands to where your heart beats “I’m already a Dameron. Have been for a long time. Just not on paper. And at the end of the day… what is more important?”

It’s his turn to cup your face and bring his forehead close to yours. “I’m so sorry. I was an idiot… thank you for…this.”

“No, thank you.”

His hands are the ones that pull your face up and wipe a stray tear from the corner of your eye, before stroking your cheekbones with a feather-light touch.

“You look beautiful-- ”

“I love you.”

It’s a short and exasperate sentence, but you’ve gone almost two weeks without saying it and Maker, how you missed the way it sounded and the way it felt rolling out of your lips. Poe could say the same, the deprivation of that sentence that he has suffered sending a bolt of warmth across his body as if this were your first date all those years ago.

For a moment your eyes cross, but before too long he is lunching forward and capturing your lips in his. The tears came again as he held onto the kiss as if that was the only thing keeping him alive.

You were reluctant to pull away from the sweet embrace, but you did. And you were met with the sweet smile you had missed.

“What do we say we go downstairs… I have a feeling there’s a table waiting just for us.” He jokes, running a quick hand over his watery eyes and you chuckle at the timely joke.

“Yeah, yeah… I’d like that.” You smile, grabbing his cheek and kissing it once again. And, as if on queue. The elevator starts working again, lights flickering for a few seconds, and the only button that was on was that of the Ground floor from which you were trying to get away from just a few minutes before.

Little did the two of you know that attached to the roof of the elevator was a happy BB8 as the compartment went down and, just a few floors above, two very content Resistance members, high-fiving.

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lyallblacklupin · 3 years ago

Note

Hey. I don't know if you are still taking prompts... but if so, I may have a challenge for you. 😉

Remus has to stay in the hospital wing for longer than usual. Sirius is secretly dating Remus and can't stand being away even though Madame Pomfrey says no visitors.

Thank you for such a cute prompt. I hope I have written just like you wanted. <333 Happy Reading! Stay Magical!

Rating: Teens and Up Audience.

The night was befalling as the walls of Hospital Wing started darkening, and the torches around the room ignited flames automatically with a thud. The room is filled with utter silence of the unoccupied beds with Remus Lupin being an exception, laying exasperatedly awake with bandages wrapped around his left leg. His stomach growled but it was the least he cared about because of the aching on the tips of his fingers and toes as his chest was in a constant state of agitation. He wanted something. No, he was craving for someone. He couldn’t stop his brain from the race of unwanted thoughts.

What if he doesn’t want me anymore?

What if he has realized that I’m not worth dating?

What if he is better off with my absence?

Suddenly, his thoughts came to a halt when his senses heightened with someone’s fastidious and highly familiar presence. Remus didn’t even have to look to recognize because it was none other than Madam Pomfrey. He loved her but not momentarily—infact not from the past five days who had strictly banned any visitors since his and Sirius’ fight. Speaking of, he shut his eyes as the memory enrolled in his mind all over for the hundredth time.

“I could have killed you!”

“But you almost killed yourself!” Yelled the boy who Remus was in love with.

“That is the last thing to be worrying—“ But he was not finished when the boy lunged at him and yanked him by his fists clutching his hospital dress, bringing him eye to eye and nose to nose as he growled, “Don’t you ever fucking say that. If you don’t care a shit about yourself then at least care about me! Us! But you don’t! You don’t care about us! Fuck you, Lupin!”

Remus’ heart was hammering in his chest, the pain of his broken leg was long forgotten. The tears glistened in the boy’s hard eyes. And before he could lift him his hand to hold his jaw, to soften the clenched face, to wipe his hurt away, Madam Pomfrey burst inside with her raging thunder.

“Mr. Black! Hands off this instant! How dare you bully a patient like that!? And within the Hospital Wing!” And he loosened his grasp which left Remus with an empty feeling in his chest. Even if he was being held brutally, he didn’t care because he was held by the foremost person in his life. The person he would never wish to leave.

“He’s my—“ He tried but his voice was a whimper in comparison to Madam Pomfrey’s.

“A week’s detention Mr. Black for scaring my patient like that! None of your friends will ever visit the Hospital Wing! Now off you go before I take away the house points!”

He gave Remus one last look of misery, tears still swimming in his heaven-made silver eyes, and scurried away from the hospital.

Remus numbly watched Pomfrey re-bandage his wounds. He suddenly felt so despondent and lonely after rethinking everything. He had hurt his favorite person in the world. And all that person had done was the care and love him with his deepest sincerity. He also knew that his lycanthropy had always been on his mind that even led him to convince the rest of his friends to become Animagis just to protect Remus from hurting himself. And now Remus had done the very same thing by not allowing his pack to accompany him to the last full moon. His broken leg and severe wounds were the aftermaths of his isolated transformation

He didn’t want to admit that he regretted his decision because deep down inside he had been unbound from the usual fretfulness of hurting his friends. He’d been better off hurting himself than hurt them, especially Sirius Black.

Now, it had been five days and Remus had not seen him. Neither James nor Peter.

“Ma’am?” He didn’t realize he had called her before she looked at him in question while applying the salve on the half-healed wound. He hissed in pain but asked anyway, “When am I getting discharged from this bed and these walls?” The bitterness cut through his voice sharply which made Pomfrey look up in surprise.

“Well, Remus. I expect to call me Poppy instead of Ma’am after five years I’ve been treating you.” Remus suddenly felt hot with embarrassment, “And it will take few more days until your walk starts, and then you’ll be well enough to join your classes and friends.”

The way she spoke, Remus felt like he had centuries to wait. He flopped down on his bed again with disappointment, the hollowness in his chest created a bigger void. A Sirius Black void. He needed it to be filled by that very person. The longing was more than Remus expected, intense enough to cause burning in his eyes as his throat began to constrict gradually, tightening his chest. He held himself until his throat had turned thorny. He let out a shaky breath and tears spilled down his temple, founding their place in his already messy hair. He cried silently. He ached and ached until sleep drifted him away.

Even in his dreams, he saw dark hair rippling like the black sea, shiny grey eyes like silver orbs, and fair skin like snow accompanied with pink flushes on the dips of the body. And then he saw a hand reaching out to him and just as he tried to grasp it, the hand flew away with a burning brush on his arm. The sensation was warm enough to jerk him from his unconsciousness. Remus’ eyes opened up to the same ceilings of the hospital wings. The room was still inky blue. He saw his dinner tray on the nightstand in which the food had gotten cold and dry. He immediately touched his left arm where the same sensation was tingling his skin. Or maybe he just felt it in reality? But no one was there. Remus was alone and cold.

He tried closing his eyes again, feeling no appetite at all, but he sensed a faint noise of rustle. He ignored it before it came back again with a feeling of fingers brushing his arm again. He sat up abruptly, clutching his sheets to his chest. His eyes were scanning the room desperately when—

“Moony?” Remus screamed when he saw Sirius’ head appear in the mid-air. Sirius rush ahead to put his hand on his mouth, “Shh! Please! I don’t want to get more detentions, Moony!”

It was all too much to process; Sirius appearing like a genie with no body—before he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, and Sirius’ warm and sweaty hand on Remus’ mouth, and most importantly, Sirius was here in front of him after five fucking days. He removed his hand once Remus calmed down.

“Look, Moony, I’m sorry—“ He never got to the end of it because Remus shoved Sirius in his embrace. The embrace that was yearning for Sirius only. He thought he might have thrown away anyone if they had tried hugging him before his boyfriend. Remus squeezed him impossibly closer and tighter. He was clutching him like a lifeline. He had his face nuzzled in Sirius’ chest. His fragile arms were strongly wrapped around Sirius’ torso. He was relishing the scent, the touch, the love, and everything he had missed.

“Fuck, I missed you, Pads.” He grunted in his collarbone, “I was longing for you…”

“I’m here.” Sirius cooed in his ear, pressing a kiss beneath it, “And I’m not going.”

“You’ll have to,” He chuckled, traveling his hands to find Sirius’ and intertwined them both.

“Eventually, yes but don’t ruin the moment, Moony.” Remus was torn between tightening his embrace or pulling away to gaze at Sirius’ face but then he felt the other move away. They parted from their lingering hug, and Sirius delicately held Remus’ face and bent down to kiss him. Remus felt his body was set on fire. They kissed languidly at first until their desires amplified their passion. Sirius dug his knees on the bed while Remus complied by pulling him in his lap. Suddenly, his boyfriend gasped and jerked away.

“Remus! Your leg is broken and—I’m sorry!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s just my calf area. I was not hurt okay?” Remus shushed him, peppering kisses on Sirius’ hands. The other boy nodded but frown still sitting on his face. He sat against him on the bed and Remus didn’t leave his hand. He just wanted them to be touching like an assurance of never parting again. They sat in silence. The flaming torches on the walls had already died out.

“Why did it took you so long?” Remus asked sheepishly, running circles on the outside of Sirius’ palm to make him sure that he was not mad.

“It’s not like I didn’t try,” Sirius spoke softly, “Had to sneak out from James’ hell hound eyes. And the last two days were spent in getting caught by Mrs. Norris. That fucking cat.”

“I love cats, okay? Don’t insult them.” Sirius cocked his eyebrow at him, “Yeah but she is such a pain in the arse.” They giggled. Remus couldn’t avert his eyes from Sirius who was avoiding his gaze, “Last two days, huh? It’s actually been five days. Are you mad at me?”

“Moony, how can I be mad at you?” The gentleness in his voice was powerful enough to cause Remus to feel hot behind his cheeks, “But yes, I admit that I was angry. I thought you didn’t want to see me. I thought that you’d want some space. But then I couldn’t stay away from you for so long. Life has been terrible without you.”

“Life has been terrible without you too, Sirius. I missed you so much. I felt bad the second you left this room. I felt so sorry to hurt you like that—“

“Your pain is my pain, Remus,” Sirius said sternly. His eyes are hard as steel. “You can’t isolate yourself like that. I know you fear hurting us but Moony, can’t you see? You are already hurting us like that. James has been quiet lately and Peter…well, he is just following his pursuit. What I mean is, none of us can see you wounded in hospital for like a week because of us. That we weren’t able to protect you.”

“It’s not your responsibility—“

“It is. You are mine.” Sirius squeezed their already entwined hands. The words were like a gush of affection in Remus’ heart. He was suddenly out of arguments. He smiled at the boy before him who smiled back weakly, “And yes, it’s been only two months since we started dating, but you already feel like my responsibility now.”

Remus arched an eyebrow at his flustered expression, “Wow, that’s quite patriarchal with few amendments since a man is claiming his supremacy on the other man.”

“Wha—you dominate over me all the fucking time!” They broke out in fits of laughter but then immediately clapped their hands on each other’s mouths to keep it down. Funnily, the more they forced themselves to be quiet the more laughter bubbled out of them. Remus suddenly grabbed Sirius by his collar and crashed their lips together. Their giggles were turned muffled until they were silently devouring each other’s mouths. Sirius was now moving from his jawline to his neck, and Remus turned into mush as the warmth began pooling into him. He just wanted to stay like this forever.

Suddenly, they both froze when the sounds of approaching footsteps came from the hall. Sirius lunged down to the floor to grab the invisibility cloak, and suddenly the door swung open.

“Mister Lupin?” McGonagall?

“Professor McGonagall.” Remus’ voice shook.

“I am sorry for barging into the Hospital Wing just like that, but I wanted to ask if Mr. Black might have stopped by here?” Even in the dark room, Remus was able to see the grave creases on her forehead. He gulped and eyed down the floor to found Sirius was nowhere to be seen.

“Umm…No, Professor.” He stammered.

“Well, that lad is one hurricane, isn’t he?” She sighed, “I hope you are recovering well, Remus.” Her voice softened and a hint of a smile passed her face. He nodded and then she was out of the hospital.

After he had made sure that there were no sounds of any footsteps he said, “What did you do now?”

“I came during my detention with McGonagall.” Sirius peeked through the cloak, with his entire body invisible.

“Okay, you look very creepy like that.” He stood, brushing off the dust from his trousers, “Come here, now. I want to relish you till my heart is contented. You are getting more detentions anyway.” He opened his arms for Sirius who fell into them with the goofiest smile on his face.

“You are such a masochist, Moony.”

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silverstarlightwrites · 4 years ago

Text

An alternate AU to this one that occurred to me just now

Team Seven take the mission to the Land of Waves. On the bridge, they fight Zabuza and Haku.

On the bridge, Naruto dies.

Something in Sasuke breaks, and he goes berserk. Haku and their ice mirrors scream as they flashboil in the black flames Sasuke summons forth, and it takes only a howl and a wild gesture to send Amaterasu blazing across the bridge to consume Zabuza and Tazuna as well. The stone melts underneath them, while Kakashi snatches up Sakura and flees, and it’s not until Sasuke feels the weight of wet clothes - crushing Naruto’s body to his chest, bloody and so absurdly hot - that he realises the bridge has disintegrated, and the water is burning.

It’s instinct and desperation that let Sasuke to douse the fires he’s conjured, and even then it aches and tastes like blood and acid, and he’s sinking when Kakashi whips across the surface to catch him, the moment the flames are gone.

Sasuke cries into Naruto’s chest, and refuses to let go. Sakura is cold and silent, and she neither speaks nor eats for the grim, slow trek back to Konoha. And it is slow, even further drawn out by the constant fluctuation of chakra from Naruto’s corpse, carried awkwardly and painfully by Sasuke alone.

It’s not Naruto’s chakra, of course. Kakashi dreads the inevitable questions, resolves not to lie when they come, and somehow their absence is even worse.

The moment they walk through the southern Konoha gate, there are Anbu all over them. They pry Naruto’s body from Sasuke’s arms, despite his shouting and kunai, despite the way Sasuke’s eyes ignite into blood red to fight-- But he doesn’t summon Amaterasu again, doesn’t expend the chakra he doesn’t have to try and kill their own. Sakura touches his shoulder, just two fingers, and her face is pale and hollow when she shakes her head, but it’s still more interaction than she’s allowed for the whole trip, and Sasuke obeys her. Blinks his eyes black, slumps in place, and then sags against Sakura.

She catches him, and he’s shaking, and she stares over his shoulder, unblinking, at the Anbu wrapping Naruto’s corpse in chakra-absorbing paper scrawled endlessly with Seals.

Kakashi isn’t sure what she sees, and he isn’t sure he wants to know.

One Anbu stays behind, and they instruct the gutted remains of Team Seven that the Hokage wants to see them. Kakashi can’t bring himself to intervene when Sasuke snarls and lunges, or when Sakura lets him. Doesn’t step in when Sasuke tells them to Fuck Off or when he punches them weakly in the chest - and the Anbu clearly thinks he’s simply not going to get involved, because when they try to catch Sasuke’s wrist they aren’t expecting Kakashi to move. Too fast to be safe, too fast for the chakra use not to burn.

Sasuke leans back into Kakashi as the Anbu trips, and Kakashi feels himself close his hands on Sasuke’s shoulders. “Don’t touch my kids,” he hears himself hiss, and if he doesn’t quite know when he accepted them as his then he doesn’t quite care either.

One of them is dead, and they won’t be permitted to mourn him properly because of the beast caged inside him without his knowledge.

The thought makes Kakashi sick. It all does, all of it. Konoha’s abuse of an innocent child, Kakashi’s complicitness in allowing it to happen. Hiruzen’s cruelty in allowing it also.

In allowing all of it.

Sasuke has lost enough.

The Anbu doesn’t need telling twice, and they leave Kakashi to cajole his kids into seeing Hiruzen. It takes more effort than he’d care to admit. Just physically, the three of them are a wreck - and it’s worse emotionally. Mentally.

“You let them take him.”

It’s the first thing Sakura has said since Naruto died - in a burst of blood and scarlet chakra - and Kakashi suddenly thinks he’s never felt anything so cold as her voice. When he meets her gaze, it’s like drowning.

“I had to. The Hokage will explain.” Because Kakashi is bound not to. By an oath that maybe he shouldn’t have taken, by a promise extracted by force. Why shouldn’t he tell them?

He doesn’t, of course. He scoops Sasuke up, and despises that Sasuke simply allows it, and offers Sakura a hand as they start walking. Sakura ignores it, striding ahead with her back too stiff and her hands clenched too tight. The walk to the Hokage Tower, while significantly shorter, is the same as the trip from Waves to Konoha.

Hiruzen ushers them into his office, tearful, and Sasuke struggles stiffly out of Kakashi’s grip. Red flickers and whorls through his eyes, and it’s impossible to know if he’s fighting to ignite his Sharingan or if he’s fighting not to.

“I’m sorry.” It’s low and mournful and wet. It’s insulting.

Sakura snaps. She flies into a rage, screaming obscenities. Her teammate is dead, and she’s never experienced loss like this before, and gods but she watched it happen, and no pitiful, pathetic ‘I’m sorry’ can ever undo that. That Hiruzen even tries sends her over the edge.

Nobody stops her. By the time she burns out, the office is torn apart, papers scattered everywhere and the desk overturned. Sakura has scratched her nails bloody against the woodwork. When she collapses to the floor and howls, Sasuke finally approaches her, sinks to her level, and wraps his arms around her.

Perhaps he understands, then. Perhaps a hug - so tight as Sakura clings back that it may be the only thing holding her together - is all he wanted after the horror of his clan’s slaughter.

Kakashi catches himself wondering if Sasuke ever got that hug, but he knows the answer.

Of course he didn’t.

Hiruzen explains to them what a Jinchuriki is. He explains the basic concept of a Bijuu, and gives them a short summary of the Nine-Tails. They take it blankly, too much to process over the top of their raw grief, but they look to Kakashi as if searching for confirmation and Kakashi nods. Tells them it’s true.

And then, because it’s not enough, it’s pathetic an explanation, he hears himself continue.

Because “He deserved better. We failed him.” Hears it spin, feels more than sees the way Sasuke and Sakura twitch and shrink, and then corrects himself. His own voice is like tar in his throat.

“You failed him.”

Sasuke and Sakura follow him out of Hiruzen’s office, and Hiruzen doesn’t try to stop them.

Kakashi sets the pack to watch them when they all end up at the war memorial. It wasn’t exactly a decision to go there, of course, but it never really is. All eight ninken are there already when they arrive, and they encourage Sakura and Sasuke to collapse and curl up with them, but Kakashi resists. He has something else to do.

And it’s dark by the time he comes back, his kids and his pack all bundled up in his far-too-tiny apartment, but he wakes them all the same. Demanding Naruto’s body back hadn’t been easy or clean, and the results of the chakra-draining done to preserve as much of the stray Nine-Tails chakra bleeding out of where it had torn free upon Naruto’s death is... messy.

Naruto’s body stays wrapped up the way Kakashi walked out of the Anbu Blue Vault with it. Only his head is visible, and his hair is knotted and matted with blood and oil, but it doesn’t stop Sakura from running her hands through it, or Sasuke from laying his head against Naruto’s chest.

Not enough people come to Naruto’s funeral. The whole fucking Village should mourn him, the child who protected them from the Nine-Tails for his entire, short life. His loss should have been overwhelming - it should have brought all of Konoha to a fucking stop.

But it doesn’t. Umino Iruka attends, and he’s quiet but he weeps ceaselessly the whole day. Sakura and Sasuke seem to welcome his presence, so Kakashi doesn’t nothing to discourage it.

Hiruzen shows up, perhaps halfway through. It takes all of Kakashi’s still-wan strength to hold Sakura back from trying to maul him, and Sasuke doesn’t fight one way or another when he lights up his Sharingan at the Hokage’s approach.

“Go. Away,” Sasuke snarls at him, and for just a moment it seems like Hiruzen might scold the boy, who’s been stripped of his family in half a dozen different ways, over and over again, as if he’s expressing his grief incorrectly, and that moment is all it takes for Kakashi to speak over all of them.

It’s the voice he used as the Hound. He hasn’t heard it for years. “You should go, Hokage-sama. You don’t want to make me choose a side here.”

Because Kakashi is loathe to fight Konoha at all, let alone its leader, but he knows without a doubt that he will. For Sasuke. For Sakura. If ever the decision must be made, Kakashi knows he will turn on Hiruzen in an instant if it would protect his kids from ending up like him.

Konoha would not make a broken blade out of Sasuke. It would not strip Sakura of her soul.

Orochimaru comes. He seeks out Sasuke, and the power he offers is too tempting for Sasuke to pass up - but he refuses to sneak away in the dead of night. Team Seven’s progress has halted in the aftermath of Naruto’s death; Hiruzen has tried several times to full the gap in their unit, but Sakura and Sasuke vehemently refuse to accept one, and Kakashi does not make them. He will not.

Naruto cannot be replaced. The gap can never be sufficiently filled.

And so comes the morning that Sasuke asks for their company in leaving. He’s been suffocating under Konoha’s weight for a long time, Kakashi realises that morning, and he’s finally reached his limit. Kakashi doesn’t try to talk him out of it; he won’t succeed. There’s no point. Revenge has been his motivation for so long that Sasuke will never quite learn how to give it up, and now he has so much more for which to seek vengeance.

It will only be Itachi first. After that, all of Konoha is culpable for Naruto’s death, and the endless suffering he endured before it. Kakashi is not fool enough to think he can change Sasuke’s mind.

Sakura agrees on the spot. She’s unrecognisable from the bubbly genin Kakashi took custody of from the Academy. She’s gaunt and messy and angry, and she’s forsaken her friends in order to follow Sasuke into the dark. She’s clinging to him, ferociously, in a different way than she’d tried to before.

She’s clinging to Sasuke the same way Kakashi had clung to Rin - how Rin had clung right back - after Obito’s death. Sasuke is her constant, her reassurance that Naruto’s absence won’t just be for nothing, that someone is going to pay for it. That she’s going to help make that happen.

You don’t want to make me choose a side, Kakashi had told Hiruzen, as if they were words of fucking prophecy. Because here are his kids, minds made up, choosing a side that Kakashi would rather flay himself than join - and yet, here he is too, and he knows already he’s going to go with them.

Choosing against Konoha tastes like ozone and fear and self-loathing, but choosing against Sasuke and Sakura is unconscionable. Even this, even this, Kakashi will do. Watching them die is a terror that keeps him up at night, a nightmare with its hands around Kakashi’s throat, a dread that’s getting ever colder. That this might lead to that outcome takes his breath away.

But the thought of not being there is even worse. Konoha forsook Sasuke when his family was wiped out, and Konoha forsook them both once again when they came home bloodied and shattered. Konoha has gone on the same as always, as if nothing even happened, and it always has when the whole world was supposed to shatter and didn’t - with Obito’s eye in Kakashi’s skull and Rin’s blood on Kakashi’s hands - and that truth does absolutely nothing to stay Sasuke’s hatred or Sakura’s wrath. They are young and angry and wounded, and there is no words Kakashi can say that will convince them to reject the power on offer, no matter how dangerous and untrustworthy the source may be.

And he refuses to let them do this alone. Everyone will want their heads, but Kakashi has fought and killed the best of them, and if - in the end - his only purpose is to protect his remaining kids, where he failed to protect the third, then perhaps the Hound yet serves a purpose still.

So Kakashi selects a kunai, and helps them score through their Konoha hitai-ite, and lets them lead him into hell.

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lazydoodlesandfanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Process Of Healing (Loki X Stark!Fem!Reader)

Characters: Loki X Stark!Fem!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: Spoilers for End Game, mourning, mention of death

Request: If you can, could you write a thing for me with a stark!reader who was in a relationship w/ Loki, and after everything is over she keeps to herself, doesnt see any of the others, is in her room a lot, y"know general grieving and self-isolating as a (poor) coping mechanism. And then parallel universe Loki (from where he picked up the tessaract) shows up and asks her to come with him and after a lil hesitation she does? If not dont worry, but I thought I might as well ask 🙂

You knew if your dad could see you now, he’d be dragging you out your bedroom by your leg and making you do things, making you try out hobbies to see if anything stuck- anything for you to focus on. But that was the thing though, wasn’t it. He wasn’t there. He couldn’t see you.

The past 12 years had felt like kick after kick in the gut, and it all started because of a tall handsome man with black hair by the name of Loki. Loki had been wandering Earth long before his invasion started, and in that time you ended up meeting him and you two had started dating. Of course the invasion put that to a halt, but after his arrest Thor had snuck you to Asgard to see him, and seeing his face when he saw you made it clear- his feelings were true and were never an act, and he still loved you. You and Thor kept it a secret from Tony, since you both knew that if he found out his daughter was seeing Loki he’d put you on house arrest despite you being a grown woman by that point. It was only when Thor had to tell you that Loki was dead that Tony found out.

Tony didn’t stop you from going to the funeral, and he held you when you cried your eyes out after Thor had told you. It was only weeks after the funeral did he ask for more details, and you gave them as best as you could. First you told him how you met, how you two had continued seeing each other and how Loki was showing signs of redemption- hell, even his parents liked you because of the positive effect you were having on Loki. You told him about the little things Loki did to show he loved you, how gentle he was with you. Tony had smiled as you told him this, and when you finished, he simply told you “I’m sure that if you had more time, you would have been the one person to be able to rehabilitate him.”

You tried to get back to a normal way of life after that. You put dating on the backburner for the time being, but whenever things seemed to be going well, then something would happen, like Ultron. You and Wanda ended up becoming basically best friends, and you helped her over the death of her brother. Then there was the Civil war, and the little family and friend group you had made had been torn apart, your best friend and other friends on one side, and your dad and other friends on the other, and at the end, you ended up losing contact with most of them until that damn battle with Thanos. Then you felt that loss again by losing your friends, especially Wanda, and it took about a week for them to find your dad, and he had really changed. You still remembered how he was when he woke up. First when he saw you and Pepper, he hugged you out of relief, before he found out who he lost. he became more serious, he didn’t crack jokes. He was almost bitter, and in the five years since the incident, he never got back that little shine about him that you loved. It felt like you lost part of your dad.

But then you actually lost him.

You had been home with Morgan since Pepper had gone to help her husband, and you had been keeping her occupied, playing games with her, keeping her mind busy. Televisions were off, as well as the radios, the only music coming from CD’s and your phone playlists to ensure that you wouldn’t get any announcements or interruptions, just in case it was bad news. You were coming up with solutions in your head to every possibility, the worst solution being that they lost and the snap happens again, in which case you were mentally preparing for what was going to happen then. You’d been through it once, you could do it again, right?

Eventually there was a knock on the door, and you went to get it, seeing Pepper. Alone. You immediately knew what happened, and you pulled her into a hug, before you went with her to tell your little sister the news. It only really seemed to hit you at the funeral during the projection, seeing him saying goodbye. Actually goodbye, forever. And in that moment, you felt that feeling again. The feeling you had felt when you lost Loki.

The world quickly recovered and healed, and people were back to doing their thing like they used to. Pepper was getting her life back together, supporting Morgan and everyone was around to help. However you seemed a little… forgotten. You guessed people presumed that since you were an adult, you didn’t need as much support as Morgan, that you’d get up and be fine and to just give you space. But the last time you were like this, you had your dad to help you, but he was gone now. But to top it all off? Thor, before leaving with the guardians, admitted to you that Loki had survived and was in hiding for all those years, only to be killed by Thanos, and he had kept it a secret from you purely to save you the heartache as to not make you mourn all over again.

You were laid in bed, looking up at the ceiling, just lost in your thoughts. Morgan and Pepper had gone on a trip for the day. They’d asked if you wanted to come and you declined. You didn’t want to get out of bed. What was the point?

“Y/N?” You heard someone call your name distantly, but you didn’t respond, simply rolling onto your side. You shut your eyes, just wanting the world to leave you alone and stop hurting you. “Y/N?” That voice came back, but this time clearer, and this time you were able to identify it. You opened your eyes, sitting up, and turning to look at the other side of the bed. And there he was.

“Loki?” You asked, not believing your own eyes. However, as you looked at him, you noticed something… his outfit was the same as the day of the battle of New York… his face seemed… younger, his hair was different, like how it was when you first met. You got up, not sure what was happening. Were you finally losing your mind? He was also examining you, concern and pain in his eyes as he saw the state of you.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” He asked you.

“...nearly 12 years.” You admitted to him. His mouth became slightly agape in shock. “We had one year after the battle together- I got to see you in Asgard but then… I thought you died, you went into hiding, but we never got to see each other again before you were actually killed… And I didn’t find out until 5 years after that… after my dad died as well… That wasn’t that long ago.” You admitted to him, sniffing.

“Oh, my dear…” Loki came around the bed, putting his hand on your arm to sooth you, and the second his skin touched yours, you realised he wasn’t an hallucination. He was real, and you immediately fell into his arms and clung to him tightly. “I’m so sorry you had to wait so long. I promise I won’t leave your side again.”

Loki coaxed you into taking a shower, and he wrapped you in a bathrobe and dried and brushed your hair for you as you told him about all the things he missed out on in your life. About Wanda, Vision and Pietro, about Ultron, about Thor gaining a beer belly which made Loki laugh, and you smiled at the sound of his laughter. You decided to keep out the part about Asgard being destroyed, at least for the time being. You told him about the first fight with Thanos, and how half the population was lost, and how the team had to fight him again, and that’s how you lost your dad. Loki had been quiet throughout your explanation.

“I told him about us after I thought you died… he actually accepted it. He even said that I’d be the one thing that got you to be a decent person…” You told him.

“...Do you think if he was here he’d let me take you away?” He asked. You turned to him confused.

“Where to?”

“Anywhere. Anywhere you want. Doesn’t even have to be on Earth. Just me and you, seeing the stars, hand in hand, making up for lost time. What do you think?” Loki asked. You thought for a moment. Thinking about what you’d be leaving behind. Your friends. Your family. Taking off and not telling them beforehand would be devastating, you could imagine, but as you thought about it… everyone was healing. Everyone had someone else to rely on. Morgan had Pepper. Pepper had what was left of the Avengers, and the Avengers had each other. Hell, you hadn’t heard from Wanda in a long time- she’d gone off on her own adventures. Why couldn’t you do the same?

“What do I need to pack?” You asked him, and Loki smiled, leaning in and kissing you for the first time in forever. You finally had him back. You had someone who you loved who will be with you forever and will support you. You could finally heal.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @klanceiscannon14 @waywardemo @marvelhoeingismyhobby @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort @abbybills22-blog @waywardemo @mutantjediavenger @theoraekensnotsosecretlover @alicedanganh @courtneychicken @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lena-stan-xavier @lady-of-lies @sebstanismylife @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines

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demonicheadcanons · 4 years ago

Text

The Problem With Trusting A Human

Spoilers for lessons up to and including lesson 16!

CW for: Angst, Blood, Being Injured / Attacked, Death and Trauma Mentions, Violence, and more. Please ask me to tag anything else!!

Honestly, Belphegor wasn’t sure what he was expecting. How long had it been since he’d had a human come looking for him, and how much longer since he’d intentionally tried to lure one? It was easy to throw his voice, to tempt them and eat at their curiosities, and of course this human exchange student was no different. In fact, they seemed even more inclined to listen to him and come searching with no resistance at all, even with Lucifer himself so violently blocking their path.

But there you were, standing outside the attic with a wary and horrified look on your face, as concerned as you were distrustful. Belphie probably looked as pathetic to you as you did to him, locked away in the House of Lamentation of all places, in the attic where no one was allowed to come search and where your path was blocked multiple times when you’d tried to come here before. Maybe you’d fallen for it, when Lord Diavolo preached of creating peace, but surely even as a human you weren’t so foolish as to believe all demons would be working towards his goal; not even all of the brothers would be, after all. But to think! Diavolo’s right hand man, Lucifer, was keeping a prisoner captive in the same house you were staying in.

Whatever is racing through your mind comes to a halt as you ask if he’s okay, if he’s been trapped for long. And finally, about what he is. Maybe you could sense it, the difference between you and him, or even the seething hatred he was only just able to conceal with his powers. It was taking so much energy to appear harmless and peaceful; demons were just too different from humans. They could blend in only so much before a human came along who could feel it, the way the air turned cold and they shivered, gut twisting and skin prickling as if the spirits lost to the air were reaching out to touch it. You could be one of those humans, one who could sense that difference.

Or maybe not, because you settled relatively quickly. You didn’t trust him, of course; it would take longer than one conversation for that. But you come time and time again, and relax a little more as Belphegor feeds you small truths and sweet lies, using the knowledge Lucifer has been feeding him to convince you of his innocence as he bleeds lies into fact, things you can’t refute because you’d seem them happening.

You soon discover one of his lies, and through Beel of all people. He wasn’t human, after all, but the seventh brother. Still, even as you tell him you can’t trust him, there’s pity in your eyes and a pain in your chest, and he knows he’s won. It was boring waiting, horrifying that the only company he had was the older brother who locked him away and a human just out of his reach whom he desperately wanted to crush. He could shatter your bones with a flick of his hand if he wished, but his plans were too big for that, so instead he settled for watching you sit closer and closer to the locked door each time you visited, and listening to your voice as you told him what his brothers were up to.

Things change when you show up and sit as far away as maybe the first week. Or the second one? Belphie had lost track; it was hard to measure time passing in the Devildom anyway, where the night stretched on for eternity and he slept too irregularly to bother with counting days. Your voice breaks Belphie out of his daydreams. Its weak and shaky, and there are drops of blood on the carpet where you’d passed to get to your hiding place.

How misguided of you to try and hide it from a demon. Belphie could smell the fear as if he were a hound trained to do just that. Past that, there are traces of anger, of another demon he couldn’t place and oh, so much blood. The day’s events were trapped in the air and would be irregardless of what you tried to do, and you were blind to it. But Belphegor wasn’t, and he was starting to put the pieces together already, made easier when you came closer to his cage to check on him.

It was satisfying and frustrating at once. Someone had done what he’d been hoping to do, they attacked you and put you back in your place, using fear and pain to guide you there. But something bit at him, swelled in his throat and clogged it, and it only gets thicker when he catches a glimpse of you and you lower your head as if ashamed, smiling through it all. Your arm was already bandaged, but so poorly done that blood was still trickling through in places. He could see torn skin from here, from sharp, sharp claws, and the way you flinched when you accidentally hit a sore spot as you rubbed at your arm to soothe yourself.

His breath catches, and he startles himself as he almost reaches forward, wonders if he should try to redo the bandages through the bars of the attic. He could break your arm in the process, and wouldn’t it ruin his plans? And wouldn’t it get his thoughts across? He feels something that’s foreign but not, something he should know well but has rejected too heavily to place it. Is it you sitting outside the bars? Because its not you he can see, not with that look on your face and the way you curl up into yourself and stare off into the distance, not wanting to bother him or ask for help or comfort.

Belphie almost calls out then, but of course, not to you, because surely you’ve left. Surely its Lilith there in your place, borrowing your smile, laughing as she promises she’s just fine. You weren’t careful enough, you’d made a mistake, but it hadn’t disrupted your plan, you were still going to help him.

Belphie watches as you stop rubbing your arm and hide both hands behind your back, and he barely stops the growl that locks itself in his chest from bubbling up and escaping. There’s blood on your hands, too, right? That’s why you were hiding them from him. Because maybe you didn’t trust him, or maybe you trusted him too much, and expected him to be worried, and he couldn’t do anything about it from the other side of this stupid locked door and god he was going to end Lucifer when he was out of there.

He feels like there are two people standing outside, feels like he’s been here before and knows he hasn’t, because it wasn’t red last time. It was red dripping down onto the carpet and staining it, as much as it wasn’t red that stained her hands and wings when she fell, watching him all the while as if calling out to him, calling him to come after her. Or to stay far, far away and never make the same mistake, and rather to stay safe. Isn’t that what your expression said? Hadn’t you slid further away from him so he wouldn’t come closer, wouldn’t end up hurting like you?

Belphegor doesn’t know what he feels, and when he finally does hiss you only look at him with pathetic sympathy, as if you understood. How could you? How could you know what he was feeling, what was burning up in his chest and fuelling the fire he’d use to end your life the first chance he got, whilst simultaneously trying to douse it?

He can’t bring himself to hide the glare on his face, so instead, he only looks down and stares at the red splatters you’d left on the floor.

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umbralsound-xiv · 2 years ago

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I had spent so long sleeping over the last few moons. Whatever they had dosed me with had seemed to allow sleep to cling for... Even longer than it usually does. Not quite so frightening as my time on the Locket, no. It was restful, curled away in a bed with someone dear in arms reach.

But as ever, i woke. And something was... Different.

Eir Fellfrost stirrs quietly with a murmur; the wakeful sounds finally leaving him after so long a period of sleep. He gives a long, tired inhale, yawning... Which sharply drops into a gasp. A shocked, panicked sound leaves him, shuffling up against the bed, as a hand pats frantically around at the bedsheets.

Eir Fellfrost: "S--Sayuri?"

Sayuri Aoki perks her left ear up at the sound of Eir's stirring. The pen which she holds against a paper pressed against her lap comes to an immediate halt and she raises her head to peer in Eir's direction, her torn right ear drooping slightly at his tone. ".. I'm here, Eir. On the couch."

Eir Fellfrost scrambles on the bed, pulling himself up to sitting. His hands brought up, then down, as his head moved wildly to look around. "I... I can... See..." Came his words, seemingly unsure himself, as he managed to catch himself. "...Not...Not well but... There is -light-, Sayuri..."

Sayuri Aoki blinked, swiftly abandoning both pen and paper upon one of the cushions before she hauls herself up onto the raised ledge. She takes a few quick steps to walk over to Eir - crawling onto the bed and settling herself before him. "Then.. the treatment is working..?" She smiled softly.

Eir Fellfrost: "I... I can..." His gaze moves towards her as she nears the window, a shaky sigh as she settles beside him. His eyes, after long last, move to her, struggling to settle as they fought to see properly. "It must be. I... I cannot see you well. Shapes. Light, but... Little else. But you are here. I... I can see you..." He whispered, moving a hand gently towards her face, to settle on her cheek.

An outline, barely against where blurred light and darkness met. I could see. I could see her...

Not well, and my eyes ached every time they found the light, but it was worth it to know. I... I can see. Even just a little.

Sayuri Aoki leaned her head into his palm, raising a hand of her own up to his to cup over it gently, the smile upon her lips remaining. ".. It's a start." She spoke softly, nudging her head into his palm. "Having it return little by little may be for the best.. I can't imagine how disorienting it would be to suddenly have it all return."

Eir Fellfrost: "You... Are likely right. It is... So bright. But i have never been happier for my eyes to ache as they do. I..." Eir slowly turns his head... Shuffling to the side of the bed. Not the comfiest by any means, but he offers no word for his actions.

Sayuri Aoki tilts her head curiously, peering at him. ".. What are you doing?"

Eir Fellfrost: "I... Just..." Eir pulls his arms around Sayuri, and moves her to the side... In front of him. His eyes, wide and silvery and much, much less pale than they had been in recent moons, pupils drawing smaller as he looked into the light.

Eir Fellfrost: "If... If you sit here... In front of the window? I... I can see you."

Eir Fellfrost: "...Barely. Just... An outline. But... It is you."

...It sounds almost silly. But i... I could see her. The shape of her outline. The slightly shorter ear. Her hair is... So long, compared to what i remember.

The last i saw her? I...

...I was being dragged out of a room against my will. It was moons ago, now. So long...

My heart aches to think about it. Both in sorrow for our last parting when gifted with sight, and... For the anticipation that i will see her again, proper.

Sayuri Aoki coiled her arms around him in return, offering no resistance as he moved her. Her head tilted a bit further, the smile on her lips growing a little wider. ".. It is." She hummed.

Eir Fellfrost: "I... I will get to see you. I will get to see you smile again, Sayuri..." His voice wavers, still processing all that was happening to him, hands held on her shoulders began to shake as he steadied himself. "...It does not... Feel real..."

Sayuri Aoki leaned her head forwards, seeking to gently press her forehead against his. ".. But it is real. I am incredibly happy for you." She spoke softly, unwrapping one arm to raise her hand up to his cheek with the intent to brush her fingertips across it.

Eir Fellfrost settles his hand on the back of hers, that gently cupped his cheek, leaning his head into it as he rested against his forehead. "I will be able to read again... I... I will be able to see the East---!"

Sayuri Aoki chuckles softly, nodding very faintly without removing her head from his. "You will.. I will be sure to think of more areas there to bring you, to make sure you get to see the beauty of it."

Eir Fellfrost: "I do not need to travel to the East to see the beauty it holds, when i have the joy of being able to share my suns with you." He spoke quickly, turning his head to kiss her on her cheek, as his own reddened. "...But it will be nice to see the places, yes."

Sayuri Aoki's ears twitched, a small red tint taking to her cheeks before a quiet giggle escaped her. ".. I'd assure you the sights there are prettier, but I have a feeling that would be inviting a small argument." Her smile widened as his lips pressed against her cheek, to which her thumb gently caressed his cheek in return.

Eir Fellfrost: "It would. You cannot argue with my opinions in a way that will change them. Not on this matter." He muses, pulling her a little closer. "...The sights will be prettier for your presence, i am sure."

Sayuri Aoki huffed. "..But I can argue them." She pouted, leaning herself in closer alongside his pull. She sought to press her lips against his cheek in a soft peck before speaking once more. "..Besides. You happen to be prettier."

Eir Fellfrost: "You can argue all you wish, yes. But not a single word will change my mind." He settles in the sensation of her cold lips against his cheek, smiling faintly... Before they redden again. "Absolutely not! That is categorically untrue. You are -far- more lovely."

Sayuri Aoki offered a small smirk. "It's not untrue. You're the pretty one in this relationship." She snickered quietly. ".. And you can't convince me that you're not fully aware that you are."

Eir Fellfrost: "I... I do not think i am... Unattractive..." Eir mumbles with a small pout. "...I am quite attractive. So i am told, and so i might occasionally think. But as my opinion goes, i think you are far prettier, far more beautiful than me."

...I would be lying if i said i did not think myself attractive. I have been told. I have looked into a mirror. I have heard the adoration from a crowd as i performed, heard many comments in the wake of a performance, whether i wanted to hear them or not.

There is no shame in thinking it... Why would there be?

But in the end, it means very little, aside the boon it provides me as a performer.

Sayuri Aoki: ".. You are, and should think so more often. Or I will just do it for you, that works too." Her smirk increased in size. ".. Sure, I may look decent.. But it's nothing compared to you."

Eir Fellfrost: "-Decent-. Pfff." The little huff of breath is purposefully directed at her face, which he then saught to kiss her again shortly afterwards. "...Like the moon. Cold, pale and beautiful. A gentle light in the darkness." He pulls her a little closer, wrapping his arms around her. "...Besides. Most, if not all, Viera are attractive. Especially the men."

Eir Fellfrost: "...Even if they are decidedly not my type. Usually."

Sayuri Aoki snickered quietly, his comparison prompting the blush in her cheeks to flare up a touch - a small huff leaving her, too. She drags herself closer to him alongside his pull, lips curled into a soft smile. ".. Well. They can be however attractive they wish.. I only have eyes for you, and they do not interest me." She offered a small pout.

Eir Fellfrost smiles warmly, before it settles into something a little fainter but no less joyful, pulling her against him as he curled his arms around her form, hand gently brushing over her shoulder. "...As a dancer, i can appreciate physical beauty in whatever form it arrives in. But for you... It is not just how you look, Sayuri. People... Get old, if they are lucky. Sometimes we change how we look, whether we wish for it or not. Your beauty is in your kindness. Your unwavering resolve for those closest to you. How, despite all you have endured... You have not let the world make you cruel."

Eir Fellfrost: "That, and much more."

Sayuri Aoki smiled weakly, her arms tightening around Eir slightly as she leaned her head down to rest it against his shoulder. "..I'm sure there are people who would argue the cruelty point." She paused. ".. But it was not the person I wanted to be.. And compared myself to those who had damaged me on more than one occasion. When we decided to go West.. I wanted to leave that behind me, and feared I was going to be unable to. But coming here, to this Company.. aided greatly in setting me on a path I actually wanted. People here.. made it easier for me to become who I am now, more so when.. those I arrived with left."

Eir Fellfrost: "Then, to them, i could not be more thankful. They can argue with me, but i will not be changing my opinions. Sayuri..." He speaks her name softly, as his hand gently moves through her hair. "...For someone who has lived the majority of her cycles surrounded by cruelty, for you to be the woman you are is an admirable feat. I have seen others with far happier lives experience comparitavely little in a similar timeframe, and it turn them so... Bitter."

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Would you believe me if I told you I used to be incredibly bitter?" She chuckled softly, nudging her head into his shoulder with her ears twitching faintly.

Eir Fellfrost: "...Perhaps a little. If only because bitterness quickly follows after such terrible things. Especially those in similar circumstances to yourself." He pushes his lips to her temple. "...Not that i can blame you. What matters is that you did not remain that way."

Sayuri Aoki: "I'd like to imagine I had ample reasons.. When I left Doma, and landed in Kugane.. I was bitter and aggressive, the worst I have ever been.. And circumstances there did not make anything better." She huffed faintly, then pressed her head up to settle it against the crevice of his neck. ".. I'd like to say I have come a long way since then."

Eir Fellfrost: "Oh yes. Very aggressive." His fingers move to gently stroke against the base of her ear. "Wrapping your arms around me tightly and kissing me so much i forget my words. Yes, very aggressive. " He teases, but the sentiment is there. "...If this is the case, you have changed greatly since then. You certaintly speak of being happier."

Sayuri Aoki pouts, ear twitching gently in response to the stroke. ".. I will kiss you aggressively in a moment if you keep that up." She huffed, yet smiled. ".. I am happy. I have people who genuinely care for my wellbeing, and that I don't need to fear will stab me in the back because the opportunity struck. And also.. I have you."

...My heart melted at those words. I could not properly articulate my response, then. She has me. Those words feel almost... Strange, for me to hear.

That she is truly so happy for my presence. And i do not doubt her for a moment.

Eir Fellfrost: "For as long as you want me, i will be here." His voice is soft, settling a kiss to the side of her head, which curls into a smile. "...Kiss me aggressively?" A brow lofts, as he continues gently brushing at her ear. "...Is that a promise?"

Sayuri Aoki: "...Yes."

Our sweetness turned into our own kind of bickering. The kind that comes with laughter and kisses, spent curled away on the bed as we each teased back and forth with intent to fluster the other. Moments where time does not matter, be it midday or midnight, only the company.

...I have never been a pious person.

But... Please. If there are any gods out there. Any that are listening.

Please, let me see her again.

#Muse: [Eir]#Duet: [Winter Moon]#Chapter: [Unseen Whispers]#FFXIV #IC #Screenshot #Writing #Snippet

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littlemisspascal · 4 years ago

Text

Death and an Angel part 4

Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: When you and Din arrive at the village in Sorgan, you both learn that the universe is full of surprises.

Rating: G

Word Count: 3,300

Warnings: Fluffy fluff, angsty angst, pining (so...much...pining...)

Author Note: All the love and thanks to everyone who reads, likes, reblogs, and comments on this series! Seriously, the support is beyond words. I wanted to go ahead and spoil it now that Winta does not make an appearance. I love that little girl in the episode, but I just couldn’t get her to fit in this segment. Maybe she’ll appear later on in the future, I honestly don’t know how my brain works.

Also, fun fact, this will be my 100th post 😱🥳

Links to Part 1 and Part 3 and Part 5

Photo Inspiration: (I love black and white photos if you can’t tell by now...)

Sorgan is a beautiful planet, covered in massive forests and several freshwater lakes filled with krill. There is a tiny, farming village that isolates itself in the midst of Sorgan’s swampy region which is where you hope to find Omera. Rumor has it she’d fallen in love with the community five years ago and bound her nurturing powers to the planet, shielding them against the harshness of famine and plague. Her powers also prohibited other immortals from teleporting directly into the village, even if they meant no harm, thus forcing you and Din to walk the five-mile-long road from the common house to the village boundary line.

Mud sticks to the bottom of your shoes and the humidity is absolutely murdering your hair, but you love the addictive burn of fresh air filling your lungs, the symphonic sounds of the wilderness encompassing you. Here on Sorgan, the positive attributes far outweigh the negative ones.

Din walks beside you, close enough your arm occasionally brushes against his vambrace, and you find yourself glancing at him out of your peripheral every few steps, dazzled by how the sunlight reflects off his armor. He catches your eye more than once, inclining his head to stare back while puffing out his chest, preening like the kriffing asshole he is. Each time you swiftly turn away with a burning face, hating how his smugness changes to amusement at your inability to hold his gaze, even with the impeding visor.

You string together creative expletives in your mind, each one meant to strengthen your resolve to ignore him. Except, like clockwork, your eyes helplessly drift back over again mere minutes later, dooming you to a continuous cycle of torment and embarrassment.

At least up until you’re less than a mile from your destination and Din abruptly halts without warning. “How will I know?”

You nearly slip as you whirl around to face him, worried at first but then confused when the question registers. “Know what?”

“If I’ve met my match,” he answers, the hand branded with his soulmate marking restlessly clenching and unclenching at his side. “How will I know it’s my soulmate?”

It’s a question you’re extremely familiar with. Maker knows exactly how many times you’ve been asked it throughout your years as a Cupid, but it’s got to be nearing a couple hundred thousand at least. And yet your usual go-to answer—a speech fed to you by your bosses about the perfect plan of the universe—doesn’t feel right to give him. He deserves your own honest opinion.

The first time you ever matched two individuals, you’d naively expected literal sparks to appear when they shook hands. Or a beam of light to shine down on them from above, an unmistakable sign from the universe they were meant to be together. So you were crushed when absolutely nothing noteworthy happened, only that neither one was able to look away from each other, eyes as wide as moons and full of awe. The same kind of awe usually reserved for watching sunsets and hearing a baby’s first cry of life.

You’d realized then the exact moment soulmates experienced their connection was not something externally witnessed by the eyes of the world. It was an internal sensation felt only by the two halves finally becoming whole.

“They’re called your soulmate for a reason, Din,” you say, slowly drawing closer. You’re not truly cognizant of your actions, only your voice, and perhaps that’s why you reach out to take a hold of his gloved hand, rubbing your thumb over his leather-covered knuckles. Distantly, as if looking through a foggy window, you’re aware of the way his whole body freezes at your touch, but still you hold on, still the words keep flowing from your lips.

“The moment you shake their hand, there will be no doubt. It’ll be instant. Like you’re tasting air for the first time after being trapped underwater. Everything will be clearer, colors brighter. Your whole world will crumble apart at their feet because all that matters now is them. And the only thought you’ll be able to think is, ‘It’s you. All this time I’ve been waiting for you.’”

Din sucks in a ragged breath. It’s only barely audible because of your closeness, but it’s also just loud enough to snap you out of your daze. “Angel,” he says hesitantly. It’s your turn to freeze when he leans in, helmet pressing softly against your forehead. “Have you ever—“

You jerk backwards, cutting Din off and releasing your grip on his hand all in the same movement. Panic is swelling in your chest and you can’t stop it, clothes suddenly feeling too constricting and you force yourself to remember why you’re here on Sorgan, the importance of the mission at stake.

“We need to keep moving,” you say, looking anywhere but Din’s direction. “I don’t think the village is that much further.”

Din watches you silently, no doubt trying to make sense of your agitated state. You feel exposed, torn open at the seams with all your insecurities on full display for him to pick apart and criticize.

In the end though, he only heaves a sigh, respectfully granting you time to begin the slow process of stitching yourself back up.

“Lead the way,” Din says, gesturing towards the path with a nod of his head. “I go where you go.”

The rest of the journey would have been completed in silence, if not for how Din’s unfinished question seemed to float alongside you in the breeze, echoing in your ears.

Have you ever...

~~~

The villagers are scared of your arrival at first, panicked to be in the presence of Death. Parents clutch at their children and the elderly are ushered into huts, as if they’ll be better protected by being kept out of Din’s field of vision.

“I promise you, we don’t mean any harm,” you say, but your words do little to reassure any of them.

A woman emerges from the crowd, the only one whose expression doesn’t bear a hint of fear. Segments of her dark hair are intricately braided while the rest flows unhindered over her shoulders, long enough to nearly reach her waist. Her features are delicate, but there is strength in how she carries herself as she marches right up to you and Din, shoulders drawn back with determination.

“Omera,” you breathe, recognizing the woman for the goddess she truly is.

“Yes,” she says, sounding reluctant to confirm her identity. Her eyes flick between you and Din. “Who are you and why have you brought Death here? I have a formal agreement with the Guild that grants me permission to personally handle the passing of my people’s souls into the afterlife. Death should have no purpose here.”

This is news to you.

Not the reference of the Guild—you’re very much aware of Greef Karga’s organization of reapers who assist Din in maintaining the natural order by collecting deceased souls on his behalf across the galaxy. Despite all the powers that come with being Death, Din is unable to be everywhere all at once. So the reapers bring the souls to Nevarro where Karga holds onto them until Din arrives to usher them into the afterlife.

What you weren’t aware of is her claim that this village might be the one place in the whole galaxy where Death and his associates have no influence.

“I’m a Cupid. I help people find their soulmates.” You gesture to Din who stands so tense behind you, you’re not entirely certain he’s even breathing. “And currently, I’m helping him.”

The way Omera’s expression instantly brightens is almost comical. A smile grows across her face, warm and friendly as if she’s known you for years and not mere seconds. “Oh, forgive me my rudeness. That’s wonderful to hear. It’s been quite some time since we’ve had guests. Would you like something to drink?”

“Actually—” Din starts, speaking for the first time since you’ve arrived.

“Yes, I would love one,” you interrupt, digging your elbow into his side and eliciting a soft grunt. “I heard the spotchka here is exceptional.”

The villagers, who had relaxed once Omera deemed you and Din weren’t a threat, are eager to prove their reputation as spotchka brewmasters. Nothing brings people together like alcoholic beverages, and within the hour you are sitting on a log bench in the village center and chatting amicably with them.

It’s a happy, tight knit community. Omera’s nurturing powers have only further increased it’s natural conditioning as an ideal sanctuary to raise a family. Everyone knows one another and takes care of each other. You can see how easy it was for her to have fallen in love with the place.

“He’s different than I expected.” Omera interrupts your thoughts by nodding to someone behind you.

You follow her line of sight, and see Din standing distantly in a field of grass, surrounded by a squadron of younglings. He’s too far to be heard, but you can tell by the gesturing of his hands that he’s explaining to them the pieces of his armor. They’re hanging onto his every word, completely enthralled, if their wide-eyed expressions are any indication. You realize as you watch that they’ll never come to recognize Din as the true identity of Death due to Omera’s agreement with the Guild. In their eyes, he is just an interesting stranger wearing shiny metal who they can pester with an endless amount of questions.

“He’s got many layers,” you admit, turning back around before the bittersweet scene makes your heart melt into a disgusting puddle at your feet.

And it is only because you look away first that you notice how Omera’s gaze lingers just a beat too long.

“Does he ever take it off?” she asks. “The helmet, I mean.”

You hesitate, stalling by sipping at your spotchka. “Not when he’s Death.”

Omera looks at you like you’ve told her a riddle. “When is Death not Death?”

When he’s with me, the voice in the back of your head wants you to shout at her, but instead you ask, “You said earlier you handle the souls of the villagers when they pass away?”

“They asked me if I could protect their planet for future generations,” Omera explains slowly, confusion still present in the lines of her face. “My powers are strongly connected to the growth of life, blessing both expectant mothers and nature’s saplings. After I chose to bind myself to Sorgan, the villagers offered to lend me their souls as sources of energy to further strengthen it. So now, rather than losing them to the afterlife, we continue to see those who have passed on in every blossoming flower and in each drop of rain, remaining part of our everyday lives despite their physical absence.”

“That’s beautiful,” you breathe, because it’s the truth. It’s also the confirmation you needed to hear to honestly tell her, “He wouldn’t be Death here. He’d have the opportunity to be anyone else he wanted.”

Omera lets the words sink in for a moment, then she returns to staring at Din, eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully. You don’t blame her for being curious, especially since he’s barely said anything to her, subsequently forcing you to be the sociable one.

You thought when you both arrived he’d try harder than this to make a good first impression. Omera’s his potential soulmate, he knows this and yet it seems as if he’s doing all he can to avoid her.

Omera startles you out of your thoughts when she abruptly inches closer to you, as if preparing to share a secret in your ear.

“You said you were helping Death find his soulmate,” Omera’s voice is no louder than a murmur, seeming uncharacteristically bashful all of the sudden as she tugs at a strand of hair. “Does he...Has he been marked?”

It occurs to you then that this whole time she’s been fishing for information from you, gradually leading up to this particular question. This is a good thing, you tell yourself, despite the sickening pit forming in your stomach. It means she hasn’t been offended by his standoffishness.

“Yes.” Your head dips in a jerky nod. Fortunately the goddess doesn’t notice your awkwardness as she peers down at her hands folded in her lap. You know what’s there without having to see it. “We came here because I knew you’d been marked too.”

“I’d hoped so,” she confesses, showing you her palm. “I didn’t think it was possible, someone like me having a soulmate.” An immortal, your mind deciphers her underlying meaning. “But, then again, the universe always seems to be full of surprises, right?”

Soulmate markings all resemble each other as black lines forming the shape of a heart no bigger than a bottlecap in the center of one’s palm, regardless of what the person looks like themselves. They only appear on select individuals the universe picks for reasons known only by the divine Maker. Those without marks often make the ignorant mistake of comparing them to tattoos. A soulmate mark doesn’t fade with time like ink does, remaining eternally vibrant and warm to the touch, as if there’s a tiny flame buried beneath the skin.

You’ve seen thousands of marks on thousands of hands, yet your mouth dries up at the sight of hers despite it looking no different. An unexpected tremor rocks your body, worse than anything you’ve ever felt before. It’s as if you’ve been stabbed by an invisible shard of ice, threatening to freeze you solid from the inside out.

When you speak, each word scrapes against the inside of your throat and tastes bitter on your tongue. “You should go talk to him.”

Omera’s face goes a bit pink. “You think so?”

You force yourself to smile, hoping it doesn’t resemble a grimace or, Maker forbid, a snarl. “I think you’ll never know if he’s your match unless you do.”

Not needing any more convincing, she spares you one last hopeful look before leaving to approach Din. She walks across the grassy field with unhindered grace, not once tripping over a rock or the bottom of her dress, and you can’t help feeling envious, knowing your clumsy feet wouldn’t be able to carry you three steps without an issue. You watch as she says something to the children, inducing several disappointed groans audible even from where you sit, before one by one they each depart, seeking entertainment elsewhere in the village.

Omera and Din fall into conversation, and you bite your lip, knowing you’re only making the ache hurt worse by watching but unable to tear your eyes away. Their conversation is too quiet for you to make out, but given the way Din’s body language is relaxed and without a hint of defensiveness, you’re convinced Omera’s definitely charming him.

They’ll make an attractive couple, you think before you can stop yourself. They’re similar, too, in that they both have protective streaks a mile wide when it comes to those they care about. As a divinely gifted caretaker, Omera will know just what to say to pull him out of one of his brooding episodes. She’ll soften his rough edges, lend him strength when he needs it most, and might even be able to convince him to settle down in the village where he can shed his persona as Death and actually experience life. Most importantly, though, you hope she’ll make him happy.

Because Din deserves someone who will make him happy every day of his existence.

You know it’s coming, but still your breath stutters when you see Din begin to remove his glove. He moves slowly, revealing tanned skin inch by inch as he pulls at the leather with his other hand. He has never been one to hesitate over things in the past, except when he showed you his mark that night at the train station. You really don’t want to think that Din could be nervous, but you also can’t determine any other reason explaining his behavior. Omera, for her part, is the perfect image of patience as she waits for him to initiate contact, if not for the way you spy her pulling anxiously at her brown locks again.

As Din reaches out to grab hold of Omera's hand, there is a second right before contact where his helmet shifts in your direction and you feel the intensity of his gaze cut through the distance, piercing your fragile heart.

In the next breath, an invisible explosive force sends you hurtling backwards through the air several feet. You bite your tongue when you collide with the ground and blood begins pooling in your mouth, causing you to gag at the coppery taste. Ignoring the pain emanating from your undoubtedly bruised rib cage, you force your body to roll over so you can spit out a scarlet blob onto the dirt. Gross, you think sluggishly.

Movement out of the corner of your eye has your head turning to look, but it takes several more seconds before your brain comprehends what you’re seeing.

The village looks as if a massive wind storm has swept through it in the last five seconds. Several villagers are slowly rising onto their feet, having apparently also been roughly tossed to the ground, looking just as bewildered by the state of things as you feel.

Your eyes next lock onto Din’s figure. He and Omera stand in the distance exactly where you last saw them, appearing completely unaffected by the unseen force. But rather than looking at each other with awe as all other soulmate pairs do, there is only unbridled shock on Omera’s face.

With newfound urgency, you stumble onto your feet, knowing something’s gone horribly wrong.

“Din!”

Your shout startles him enough he visibly jolts, increasing your worry tenfold.

Your feet skid to a stop closer to his body than you anticipated, nearly colliding face-first with his chest. It’s on the tip of your injured tongue to ask them what the hell just happened when Din beats you to the punch.

“What happened to you?” he demands, cradling your jaw. He’s using his gloved hand, you can’t help but notice. His other one—still uncovered from when it had touched Omera’s—is pressed firmly against the segment of armor protecting his upper thigh. His thumb starts to wipe at the blood staining the corner of your mouth, but you refuse to be tended to when there’s a bigger issue at stake.

“What happened?” you repeat incredulously, pulling away and resisting the urge to smack the side of his helmet. “I should be asking you that, idiot. Did you two match?”

Omera says nothing in response to your question, but there is something about the way she stares at you directly, like you’ve revealed a secret of the universe right in front of her, that brings back the same self-conscious feeling of being exposed you’d felt earlier.

“Look for yourself, angel,” Din answers with a tone full of scorn, gesturing widely to your surroundings with both arms. “Does any of this look like what you told me would happen?”

Taken aback by his hostile tone, you glance around the field, only to be stunned by what you’d initially failed to notice. In an almost perfect circle encompassing the three of you, the once beautifully green and luscious grass is now black and shriveled, entirely devoid of life. It crunches beneath your shoes as you nervously shift in place, eerily resembling the sound of bone breaking, and you’re beginning to understand the shock you’d glimpsed on Omera’s face.

“No,” you say, feeling slightly hysterical but doing your best to keep it out of your voice. “No, it definitely doesn’t.”

Omera had said that the universe is always full of surprises.

What a kriffing understatement that turned out to be.

Tag List: @leilei-draws, @theocatkov, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph, @stardust-and-starlight, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @gallowsjoker, @rhiannon-russo, @randomness501, @eleine-t1d, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene, @softly-sad, @maytheglitter, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives

#death and an angel #Pedro Pascal #Din Djarin #din x you #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #soulmate au #my writing #my fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #mandalorian x reader #Mandalorian #the mandalorian

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lune-hime · 4 years ago

Text

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 2

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?” “Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

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

Tulipa Princess Irene ~ An eye-catching tulip whose unique lavender markings on apricot petals make it unforgettable to any who gaze upon it.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

With one last glimpse in your direction, Levi followed your grandmother out of the room. Just as he was about to ascend the stairwell he was met with a gasp. Your grandmother was hunched over the railing, eyeing a suspicious piece of material.

“Is that a piece of titan skin on my mahogany railing?” She shrieked in horror, craning her neck to look at Levi who stood bewildered at the top of the stairs.

“And you got my floor all bloody.” She complained shaking her head. “Honestly, I didn’t think you would have the audacity to leave your disgusting boots on while walking through a lady’s house.”

Levi stared at her in disbelief. Is she fucking serious? Y/N was just bleeding out and she’s worried about her damned floors being dirty?

His glare remained cold and unwavering but he felt anger swell in his chest. He dug his nails into the wood of the railing and his pupils dilated. Before he had time to do anything, however, she suddenly burst out in a hearty cackle.

“Hah, gotcha. Don’t get your panties in a twist, shorty, I’m just teasing you. That was a test and you passed. Good to know you care about her health more than cleanliness. You can help me clean it up later, we are going to be spending a lot of time together after all.” Then she waddled down the stairs without sparing a single glance back. Levi was dumbfounded. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack from the combination of the lingering shock of the expedition and all the palpitations your grandmother was giving him. No amount of formal training, combat or political, could have ever prepared him to deal with this woman.

He followed behind as she scuttled through the archway to the right of the foyer. This room was the kitchen. It was open just like the rest of the house; windows decorated with cream doilies framed by dark paneled walls and a large island counter with stools in the center. The style of decor was modest but the layout screamed extravagance just like the previous rooms. Every space he entered he couldn’t help but gawk at its contents, it was far nicer than any place he had ever called home. He felt so out of place; like a poorman who had just walked into the prince’s quarters. This uncomfortable feeling kept him standing in the entrance; hand nursing his torn shoulder as another streak of red hot pain traveled up his back.

“Why are you standing there all hunched over like that? Are you sulky because you don’t get to get stitched up in a king size bed with pillows sewn with love and a cutie little nightgown? This kitchen isn’t as luxurious but I promise I’ll get the job done just the same; so get in here.”

He reluctantly entered the room and scooted into one of the stools, the metal bottoms scraping against the timbered floors as he took a seat. He rested his head on one hand while the other massaged his shoulder.

“Haven’t spent proper time with my granddaughter since walls know when and this is hardly the reunion I was imagining." Your grandmother muttered as she lit the gas burner on the iron stove. Levi watched the tiny blue flames dance into existence before settling into a warm orange.

“How long do you think she’s-” He attempted to ask, the tone of his voice rising significantly before it cracked.

“Going to be asleep?” He croaked. “By Ymir, are you going through puberty again?” She snorted and Levi’s features became icy.

“You like tea don’t you?” Levi nodded slowly. She didn’t look at him to check his response as she stood on her tiptoes to grab a glass from a higher shelf and the kettle from the side of the stove.

“Of course you do. My girl goes on and on about how it’s your life force.” She filled the kettle up with water before placing it on the burner, the stray droplets sizzling when they came in contact with the open flame.

“I’ll make you some tea with ginger root, that should help your sore throat. But for now drink some water, you sound like you’ve been huffing cannon smoke.” She filled the small glass with water and handed it to him. He gratefully accepted it and hummed in satisfaction when the cool liquid soothed the fissures in his throat.

“And to answer your question; I don’t have a damned clue. That gash on her side is beyond nasty. Her body is going to need a lot of rest to recover from all the shock, trauma, and blood loss she’s undergone.” Your grandmother placed a smaller kettle on the counter.

Levi watched as she sifted through her tea cabinet, swearing under her breath when she couldn’t find what she was looking for. For someone who was in the later years of their life she had remarkable posture. She carried herself with a confidence that retained her youth. She dressed simply, donning a long sleeved dress of a muted navy color, but aspects of her clothing reflected her wealth. Her shawl looked as if it was made out of cashmere; a commodity that not many people outside of Wall Sina had access to. She looked nothing like you, and her personality was sure as hell different. Her long silver locks were braided and wrapped into a neat bun at the top of her head. Her features were chiseled; a high brow ridge and straight nose were supported by a strong jawline. The only physical similarity you shared was your eyes. They shared the same structure, although yours were a little more almond shaped, and sparkled with the same excitement.

“Take off your shirt. Your boots, too, while you’re at it.” She commanded out of the blue, dipping a needle into a bottle of alcohol once and shaking it.

Levi was reluctant to undress, even though he knew he had to eventually. He never had any problem disrobing for the corps’ medical staff, unless it was Hange; he only let her near him if she didn’t have scissors in hand. That was story for another time. But this was your grandmother. It feltweird .

Levi hesitated at her request. She pursed her lips when she got no response.

“Relax, you’re not my type. Too short and toned. I like my men lanky-” She looked him directly in the eyes while she snipped the surgical thread.

“-so I’m able to snap them in two.”

This woman was truly an enigma. Levi’s mind couldn’t process how she could switch from sweet to salty within moments. He found himself more at a loss for words in these last few hours than he had been in his entire life. And he’s not a man of many words.

Y/N please wake up quickly . He pleaded in his mind as he unbuttoned his shirt.

He then shrugged it from his shoulders, hissing when the fabric scraped against his wound. Your grandmother came to his side and examined his exposed back. The gash stood out against his pale skin, the area surrounding it dappled with light bruising. She pressed a cold fingertips to the area, goosebumps freckling his skin in response.

“One of those big nasties barely grazed ya, if your position had been a couple centimeters to the right you probably wouldn’t have a spinal cord.” She mused, threading the needle through the surgical thread. What lovely images your grandmother painted with her words.

She dabbed a washcloth in the alcohol and began ridding Levi’s gash of the dirt and dried blood. His features contorted when the stinging liquid met his skin. Her cleaning was abruptly halted with the shrill scream of the kettle filled the room.

“Oh! The tea is finished.” She squealed, leaving her place at Levi’s side to take it off the burner. She then appeared before him and pushed the mug into his empty hands. The hot spice of the liquid hurt his chapped lips as he drank. But damn did it feel good. His whole body was blanketed in a serene numbing.

“Alrighty-you want the belt? You shouldn’t need it, though, it's not that deep.” She offered. Levi shook his head and took another sip of the tea.

“Okay, ready shorty?” She asked, pressing her hands to his back.

“Yeah.” He replied breathily, relaxing his muscles in preparation. Then Levi felt a pinch, followed by a tug, and then a dull burning as she weaved the needle in and out of his skin.

“So is my tea up to par with what you drink back at headquarters?” She spoke up after a moment.

“It’s good.”

“Just good?” She huffed and gave him a ginger slap on the shoulder.

I’m glad Y/N didn’t inherit her personality. She’s too fucking much to deal with.

“Hmm what was that?” She pulled the needle just a little too hard for Levi’s liking. He gasped and sucked a breath inward.

“I didn’t say anything.” He winced, gritting his teeth as she entered a particularly tender area.

“Now you’re starting to sound normal. You have a sexy voice, I see why Y/N likes you.” She cackled into his ear. Levi faltered and coughed, tea burning his throat as it entered the wrong airway. She took so much enjoyment in tormenting him and all this relentless teasing was going to push him past his breaking point.

“Why don’t you tell me a story to pass the time? Although your wound isn’t deep, it’s going to take me a little while to get it all cleaned up.”

“I don’t know any stories.” He responded blandly.

“I didn’t mean tell me a bedtime story. I wanna know about you and Y/N. That way I can get to know the person who is courting my granddaughter.”

She let the request sink in before speaking again.

“How did the two of you meet?”

“Officially?”

She hummed in agreement.

“She was delivering paperwork for me and she knocked over a box of my tea.” Levi explained, a small smile dancing across his lips. Your grandmother let out an artificial gasp and Levi clicked his tongue.

“Clumsy girl.” She chuckled, pulling the thread taut.

↞♞♘↠

Stop being nervous, Y/N, you’re just dropping off some papers and then you can leave right after. Your hands on the stack of parchment felt clammy and you picked the edges of the paper uneasily with your fingers.

Confident and assertive. That’s what your grandmother told you to be before you enlisted in the corps. However you found it difficult to live up to these words as the recipient of these important documents scared the absolute living hell out of you. You had had minimal interactions with him, and all of them unpleasant. It didn't help either that the horror stories you had heard from other cadets made your skin crawl. Surely he couldn’t be that bad though, right? After all, your cousin was constantly in his presence and they weren’t scared of him.

As long as you look like you can kick someone’s ass, you can. You repeated another one of your grandmother’s mantras in your head as you knocked on the large wooden door with a firm hand.

Nothing.

You knocked again, this time slightly louder, and abruptly drew into yourself as you awaited a response. Nothing.

Maybe he’s out? You thought, contemplating coming back later. You waved the idea off, however, as your squad leader had told you to meet them back at the training grounds immediately after you dropped the papers off. And they intimidated you too, although not to the extent of the Captain. You began to get jittery as you tried to think of the best thing to do.

Maybe the door is unlocked? I’ll just sneak in, drop the papers on his desk and run out. If he blames someone for breaking into his office he can blame Squad Leader. The plan seemed foolproof in your mind.

Wrapping your hand around the door knob you hesitantly turned it clockwise. A crisp click broke the tense silence, signaling that the door was indeed unlocked. To your delight you pushed it forward cautiously, the wood creaking painfully loud as you did so.

Before entering the vacant quarters you poked your head in and scanned any visible inch for tiny officer before calling out. Yet again you were met with silence. You swiftly padded to his desk and stacked the parchment neatly in the middle, taking caution not to knock over the inkwell or misplace any other of the contents of the table. Fighting against your conscience, you found it irresistible not to to look at the contents of the office. You were already in here, and if the universe was on your side, would never have to come back here again. Despite your fear for the man, you harbored an immense curiosity for him. Everything about him was shrouded in mystery; from his childhood to his enlistment to even just his favorite book. So, while you were here why not just have a quick look and then be gone?

Only the main room, though. You thought, gaze falling on the door to his private quarters. If he found you in there you would surely be skinned alive.

Your eyes floated from the bare and spotless walls to the velvety fuchsia victorian couch, to the brick fireplace, and finally to a small distinctive box on what you presumed to be his tea cabinet. You gasped in surprise, stepping closer to get a better view. It sat right next to a beautifully painted porcelain teapot among other boxes of tea in his collection. The tin was very familiar to you; your grandmother’s favorite tea. The box depicted a beautifully intricate war ship, its sails open to the wind and bow wet with the crashing waves. It was like laying eyes on an old childhood friend and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Oi Cad-” A low voice broke the stillness of the room, causing you to squeak and slap the box of tea right off the shelf. It’s top fell off with a pop and the ground tea leaves scattered across the floor. You stood there, mouth agape, frozen in fear. Maybe if you didn’t move you could dissolve through the floorboards and fade into another dimension.

“What. The. Fuck ?” He seethed, though his composure and expression remained devoid of emotion. His words made you shiver and you shakily straightened up.

“I-Captain I’m so, so so sorry. I came to deliver these documents because Squad Leader said that they were very important so it felt weird holding onto them for such a long time and then I saw this tea that I used to drink as a child and I swear I wasn’t trying to take it and then you startled me-”

“Just-stop.” The Captain held one arm out while the other rubbed his forehead in frustration. He looked like he was trying to collect himself. You sucked in a breath and awaited for your imminent death. Although it didn’t come as swiftly as you had presumed, and in a last ditch effort to redeem yourself in whatever way you could you spoke up.

“Let me clean it up, please!” You pleaded, your hands clasped together in front of you.

The Captain removed his hand to look at you and nodded his head in approval. When you made eye contact it felt like your soul was about to climb out of your body. You exhaled the breath you had been holding and picked up the tin and neatly placed it back on the shelf. Meanwhile, the captain had fetched a broom and a dustpan from the closet. You gratefully took them.

As you started to sweep the pellets of tea into a pile the captain took a seat at his desk, sinking into the chair with a tired exhale. He grabbed the top document and read it over, still expressionless. He mumbled fucking request forms when you swept the last pebble of tea into the dustpan. Rising, you moved to the corner of the desk to dispose of them in the trash can.

“Um, these go in there?” You asked, pointing towards the closet and the captain grunted in affirmation. It looked like he had gotten over his initial anger which eased your beating heart.

“Why were you touching my tea in the first place? Trying to steal it, Cadet?” His sudden comment caught you off guard, the dustpan fumbling in your fingers.

“N-No not at all! I was just admiring, I swear. It’s my grandmother’s favorite I just wanted to take a closer look…” You trailed off as you placed it neatly in the closet, shutting the door. He looked at you, his features set in stone so you couldn’t gage his reaction. You wondered how he would look with emotions. You weren’t going to stick around to find out.

His brows were so furrowed that they almost met his metallic eyes. His intensity made your intestines twist around each other.

"I-if you need me to I promise I can report for extra cleaning duty if my squad lea-"

"I know who you are. That won't be necessary." He interjected. You felt like a cow being sized up by its butcher.

"You...you do?" You asked tentatively. The moment the words left your mouth you felt like an utter dunce for questioning him. You hoped it was from your familial connection rather than your training slip ups.

The captain nodded once.

"You started working with Hange recently." He stated, his tone running along a flat plateau.

“Yes sir. I am from the 104th class, so technically I’m still in training. But I started apprenticing with Squad Leader last week.” You had gone into training with your childhood friend, but had graduated more quickly than others in your training group because of your extensive knowledge of life systems and quick mastering of combat training. What still held you back, though, was maneuvering the 3DMG gear. You just didn't understand how someone was supposed to stay in the air for longer than five seconds. So, in that aspect you still had a lot more training to complete. But when Hange caught wind of you she practically captured you and took you in as her apprentice.

“So you’re the brat the two of them been going on and on about?” His quizzical behavior set you on edge. One wrong answer and you would be sent to the slaughterhouse.

“Y-yes I guess. Before enlisting I was training with a biologist.” He made that grunting noise again and nodded once more. He really was a man of little words.

“Well sir, if you don’t need me for anything else I’ll be taking my leave. I’m sorry again I spilled your tea.” He didn’t say anything, just nodded again.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you!” You proclaimed, forming the best salute you could muster and turning to exit the premises.

‘Cadet Y/N.” He called, stopping you before you could depart. The hairs on the back of your neck as he proved he had knowledge of your name.

“Yes sir?” You stood awkwardly and awaited his response.

"Don't come snooping in my office again." He ordered sternly before shooing you gently with his hand.

↞♞♘↠

“So she was scared of you at first? Hah, what a softy. I see why though, the first thing you said to her included the word fuck. Not exactly smooth or inviting.” Your grandmother's words were harsh but they held a tone of endearment to them.

“Alrighty that lil’ scratch is all closed up now!” She declared proudly, leaning back and admiring her handy work. Levi stretched his back and ran his shoulder in circles to get some movement back into his stiff joints.

“Thank you.”

She smiled softly, the wrinkles under her eyes crinkling. She then turned her attention to the stove to begin preparing dinner. As Levi continued to stretch, a sudden, pressing problem he forgotten about popped into his mind.

‘Ah!” Levi gasped in recollection.

“‘Ah!’ what?” She mocked his surprised comment, not taking her gaze away from chopping onions.

“The horse.” He said frazzled with his gaze fixed on the front door. He shot up, ignoring the screaming protests by his shoulder, and was about to grasp the brass doorknob before your grandmother cleared her throat.

“A little eager aren’t we, Mr. Shirtless? You planning on flashing my neighbors?” She chimed throwing him his shirt with a playful smirk. Levi felt heat on his cheeks and averted her gaze.

“The stable is out back behind the shed.” She yelled from the kitchen as Levi slipped on his boots with haste. Buttoning the dirtied fabric he didn’t bother to tuck it into his trousers as he padded down the stairs to search the property for your horse. With the day coming to an end the landscape before him looked like something out of a postcard; birds fluttering about returning to their nests, the evening sunlight breathing warmth onto the flower fields. He would have never expected a place so idyllic existed within Wall Rose. He envisioned settling down with you at a place like this once this hell was over.

As expected, your horse wasn’t in the place you had left him. Levi puffed his cheeks and lazily looked around for the shed. He vouched to start from the left side of the house. He rotated his shoulder blades, feeling the tightness of the stitches and cracked in his neck. When he reached the side of the house the shed your grandmother had been talking about came into view. It looked more like a house than a shed to Levi as it was even bigger than most houses in the underground. A glorified shed indeed; freshly painted, nothing hanging off the sides and no equipment haphazardly strewn around the base.

“Alright you little shit where are you?”

Walking aimlessly around the shed proved fruitful, as peeking out from one side of the grand structure was movement. Approaching carefully he rounded the corner of the building to find what he was looking for. Your horse stood with his back towards him but sluggishly looked his way upon sensing his presence.

He looked awful. Dried blood caked of his cobalt coat and scratches littered his body, exposing the surface of his skin. His muscular neck hung low and he was favoring one of his back legs, hoof resting just above the ground. Levi felt bad for him.

“Damn you look fucking horrible.” He said aloud, looking him up and down.

Your horse snorted and glared back.

“What? You do.” He answered, instantly cringing after. He couldn’t believe he was talking to a horse. You did it all the time, however. You even claimed that he understood you on a spiritual level , but Levi thought it was just bunch of, well, horse shit.

Did he have a surprise concussion he didn’t remember getting? Did he have a hallucinogenic fever making him inclined to speak to animals? Placing the back of his palm on his forehead, he checked his temperature. No heat, just clammy.

As he closed the distance between the two your horse didn’t make a run for it like he usually did. He really is in bad shape if he isn't running.

Levi grabbed the grimy reins just below your horse’s chin and lightly tugged. He almost tripped over his boots at the sudden lack of movement. Whipping his head around he saw your horse hadn’t moved at all. His shoulder started to sting again.

“Let’s go.” He commanded, giving the reins one more small tug.

No movement. Even in his injured state the horse was still a pain in the ass.

He tugged more firmly, even clicking his tongue a couple times.

Nothing.

Levi then began stepping backwards slowly, pulling the reins as he did so. Your horse followed him with his head until he had stretched his neck as far as he could go without moving. Although Levi affectionately referred to him as a little shit, your horse was in fact a large shit. He was one of the largest horses within the Survey Corps which also made him very troublesome to move. And Levi realized that no amount of pulling was going to get him to budge.

He closed his eyes and exhaled. He was about to do it again.

“I know your favorite person isn’t here right now but, please? Y/N would want you to be someplace safe and cleaned up.” He blankly stared into its amber eyes and it stared right back.

When Levi tugged again, he slowly began to follow.

“Are you fucking serious.” He rolled his eyes and headed towards the stable.

↞♞♘↠

“Squad Leader I messed up, literally.” Your opening statement had the woman slightly worried, but mostly intrigued.

“Y/N. For the fiftieth time I told you to call me Hange, just Hange.” She responded cheerfully before laying eyes on your nervous form. She quirked an eyebrow and gestured to the lounge chair slightly to the left of her desk. You sank into it and let out a shaky breath before explaining the situation. Throughout the story, Hange had to stifle her laughter which caused your frown to deepen.

“That’s the most excitement shorty has gotten in a while.” She giggled, the severity of the situation going completely over her head. You curled up and groaned, placing your head in your hands.

“Aw, Y/N don’t be upset. You messed up and you apologized, that’s all you could have done. It’s not like shorty is going to kill you or anything.” She came to the back of the lounge chair and enveloped you in a hug.

“He does love his tea though…” She trailed off, cocking her head in contemplation. You let out a muffled cry and wiggled in her grasp.

“Ah-no I didn’t mean to stress you out! In all seriousness nothing bad will happen to you, I’ll see to that. You know how many brats annoy him on the daily? You are just another one of those cadets to him at most.” She reassured, rubbing your shoulders gently. She lowered her voice and matched his tone perfectly when she imitated his favorite insult. A little bubble of laughter rose from your chest.

“But if it’s really bothering you-” She gave your shoulders one last squeeze before returning to her desk. “You could buy him some more. Only if you can afford it, that is.”

You would have to use up a significant amount of this month's savings, because from experience you knew that stuff was not the cheapest, but if it meant that you wouldn’t suffer a lifetime of torture it would be a worthwhile monetary sacrifice.

↞♞♘↠

Levi led your horse into the stable, passing your grandmother’s other horses before stopping at an empty stall and placing him inside. He gingerly removed his saddle and bridle, careful not to nick any exposed skin.

I have my work cut out for me. He rolled up the fabric of his shirt up to his elbows before gathering the grooming supplies. Levi brushed out as much of the dried bits of blood as he could, sponged him down with warm water, and finished with bandaging the tender area just above his back hoof. The last part was particularly hard on his shoulder but he shrugged it off.

He evaluated the equine's condition from head to hoof. Levi had cleaned him up to the best of his abilities and resolved that there was nothing more he could do at the moment. He ran his hand along his neck, giving his coarse pelt a few long strokes, before stepping out of the stall and locking the stable door.

“Good night, little shit. Don’t even think about unlocking that door.”

↞♞♘↠

A few days after the tea incident you had decided to go into town to try to find a new tin. At dinner the previous night, Mikasa had offered to accompany you to help you find a replacement. Besides Hange, she was the only other person who knew of the event. As insignificant as spilling tea was compared to the other stories told by your fellow cadets you still didn't want your mishap spreading around. If your best friend knew about your little mistake you knew you were in for a life of relentless teasing. Not that you didn't already experience that, but you didn't want it going around that you had gotten on the Captain's bad side.

Mikasa had sworn to keep it on the down low, and you were grateful to her for that. The two of you had grown quite close in training as both of you excelled at hand to hand combat. From constantly training together you quickly found out the two of you had much in common and that you got along extremely well. Plus you were happy to have another girl around with all the testosterone floating about the 104th class. Mikasa and you had both grown up around boys, and even though you loved them, albeit them being idiots, it was refreshing to have other friends that were girls. Eren and Armin were attatched to her at the hip so you became more friendly with them as well.

“Hey ugly.” An upbeat voice called in your direction.

“Hey horse-face.” You shot back, looking up from your place at the fence.

“Please don’t start calling me that too. If you do, it will stick for sure.” Jean whined, crossing his arms.

“I’ll stop calling you that when you stop calling me ugly.” You teased, sticking your tongue out at the taller boy. Jean huffed in annoyance but smiled when you tried to hit him.

“You actually look nice today, all jokes aside. Got a date today?” He wiggled his eyebrows and leaned in closer to playfully look you in the eyes. Shoving him away you clicked your tongue.

You had in fact traded in your regular street clothes for something a little fancier, yet still casual. You donned a soft yellow sundress that made you feel less sweaty in the summer heat, pulled some of your short hair into a braid and had put on a ghosting of makeup. It had been awhile since you had the opportunity to dress up, so even if this was just going into town you wanted to take that chance to feel not dirty and grimy like you did during training.

“Would you believe it if I told you that I got all pretty for you, Jeanie~” You cooed, sticking out your bottom lip and looking up at him from under your lashes. Jean gagged in an exaggerated manner and mouthed a yuck before you started playfully kicking him.

“Uhm-guys?” A timid voice piped up, causing both you and Jean to stop mid limb-throwing to stare at the source of the sound.

“Ah! Hey Armin, Mikasa!” You instantly collected yourself and smiled brightly.

“By all means, don’t stop fighting. It was just getting good.” Mikasa added, a small smirk on her features. You abruptly disentangled yourself from Jean and placed your hair back in its position.

“Eren’s not coming?” You tilted your head in confusion. This trip into town was supposed to be the four of you until Jean insisted on joining.

It’s actually better off he’s not coming otherwise those two would be down each other's throats the entire time. You eyed Jean who was fiddling with his shirt.

Armin shook his head before explaining. “No, he has special training with the Captain.” The Captain. His name was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Horse-face is coming with us into town?” Mikasa asked flatly. You nodded and Jean looked at her with minor offense.

“Yeah, he begged to come along. That’s how much I mean to him.” You linked your arm with his and gripped his forearm hard, cozying up to his side.

“N-no it’s not like that at all.” He stuttered, blush alight on his cheeks. He desperately tried to maneuver out of your grasp but you kept him hanging off your arm like a limp noodle. Armin laughed nervously and Mikasa flashed an amused smile. The way you manhandled Jean was quite an amusing sight.

“Please put up with him for a few hours for me; I had to tolerate him all throughout my childhood.” You pleaded, tugging on his arm causing his balance to falter in your direction.

The nearest town was within walking distance. You and Jean strolled side by side a few paces behind the other two in your party down the main street. Armin’s enthusiastic chattering could faintly be heard from your position. Jean, however, was the total opposite of Armin, and had begun sulking since you had embarrassed him earlier. He would not stop pouting, so you nudged him in the ribcage to snap him out of his pity party. He yelped in surprise and shot you a dirty look.

“Look I’m sorry for teasing you in front of her earlier.” You apologized, poking him on the arm. He gave you a confident smirk, which you knew as the start of his suave act, cool boy act.

“Pft- you mean Mikasa? I don’t care what she thinks.” He responded all too nonchalantly. You deadpanned. If your best friend was proficient in anything it was bullshit.

“You’ve been staring at her this whole time.” You commented, your companion’s confident facade faltering.

“Huh? I’m just walking.”

“I may be ugly but I’m not dumb, dumbass.” You snorted. “I know you like her, but there are no signs pointing towards she’s interested. You might as well date Marco.”

Jean swallowed wrong and began to have a coughing fit. Your firm pats on his upper back only worsened his condition.

“W-what? Why would I date him?” He gasped and jerked his head in your direction.

You were about to explain when Mikasa suddenly stopped.

“We’re here.” She called out. Jean and Armin looked towards the painted sign of the tea shop in confusion.

“We came all the way out here to get tea?” Jean questioned, unamused and still trying to recover from his coughing fit.

“You know how much I love tea.” You trilled. You made an attempt to ruffle his hair but he batted you away.

“Since you think it's lame you and Armin can go somewhere cooler, like the book store or something.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Mikasa interjected, sending an apologetic look towards Armin before shuffling you into the shop.

“Jean don’t be a dick, please!” You called out before disappearing into the shop.

It was a humble store stocked with countless varieties of tea and various kitchen wares. It was also the only shop that sold tea in this small town, so if they didn’t have the type you were looking for you were screwed. The two of you split up in search for the tea, but your searches came up empty as you scanned every display in sight.

“Is this it?” Mikasa asked, holding up a similar looking container. You shook your head, feeling defeat set in. A small man appeared in your peripheral vision.

“Excuse me, madam, is there something I can help you find?” His hands were clasped together neatly at his front and he wore a wide smile that was barely visible underneath his graying mustache.

“A-ah yes. Do you have Queen Mary tea?” Your question seemed to light up his eyes.

“Oh yes! Quite and aromatic and rich tea, isn't it?” He beamed, leading you to a display where familiar tins were expertly stacked along one of the top shelves. The anxieties that had plagued you for the past few days were all swept away when you saw that little warship. Thanking the employee, you purchased two tins, one for the Captain and one for your grandmother.

“Let’s hope this will set me in the clear.” You said with slight apprehension. Mikasa silently placed a hand on your shoulder as you left the shop and made your way down the cobblestone street.

↞♞♘↠

Upon Levi’s return to the house the sun had set and the moon was already creeping up the sky.

“Why did you take so long?” Your grandmother prodded as if she were interrogating her teenage son.

“He was hiding.” Levi explained as he shoved his boots off his feet.

“...the horse?” She questioned, eyebrow raised. Levi nodded in conformation, plopping rather ungracefully onto one of the kitchen stools. She shook her head in disbelief but didn’t pry any further.

“Here, eat up.” She said, sliding a plate across the table. Bratwurst dressed with sauerkraut and two slices of buttered bread on blue china laid before him. His mouth must have been visibly watering because she puffed with laughter.

“When you’re done please go to bed. You look like shit, bet you feel like it too.” She cackled. There was a small piece of Levi that was beginning to find her dryness endearing.

“Thank you.” He expressed his gratitude before digging into the food. She grunted in response.

“Well-I’ll quit bothering you tonight. The two of you almost made it to Valhalla today so you deserve a full night’s sleep.” She stifled the flames on the stove and took her leave but not before stopping in the doorway.

“I’m going to go check on her again before heading off to bed myself. I’ve prepared one of the guest rooms for you, it’s the last door on the left.” Levi looked up mid bite of his sausage and swallowed before speaking.

“Thank you.”

“Sheesh is that all you know how to say?” She turned back once more in the entryway with a warm smile.

“Eat quickly and get some sleep, otherwise you won’t grow any taller.” Her barking laughter bounced off the walls and harmonized with the creaking of the stairs as she ascended them.

After he finished his meal he went to check on you again. Your condition looked the same; gentle limps strewn across lavender silk and color flushed from your complexion. He slowly pulled the covers up to reveal your bandaged torso. An opaque layer of red rested beneath the layers of gauze, meaning you were still bleeding through the stitches. The hand he used to place the covers over you once more moved to rest against your cheek. He had some false hope in his head that you would react to his touch, but you laid still as ever. Levi prayed you were sleeping as blissfully as you looked, that your peaceful expressions and steady breaths didn’t hold a secret sea of turmoil behind them. He placed a loving kiss to your forehead and reluctantly drew away from you.

He initially thought he would have trouble sleeping, both from his unconventional sleeping habits and the earlier events, but when his head hit the downed pillow the mattress absorbed all the tension in his muscles. His eyes instantly fluttered shut and Levi was engulfed in a tranquil darkness that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. The last thing he heard before he was washed into the the void was that melodious laughter of yours.

↞♞♘↠

Okay, Y/N you can really do it now. He’s positively in there this time.

So after returning from town, here you stood at the climax of your tea saga. The freshly brewed kettle shook with the small tremors of your hands and the cream almost spilled as they gripped the edges of the tray.You attempted to form a determined visage before knocking twice with your foot.

Confident and assertive. Confident and assertive. Confiden-

“Name and business.” Oh god this is actually happening. The situation had manifested from hypothetical to real in a matter of a few words.

“Cadet Y/N, sir.” You specified, eyes locked on the chipping varnish of the door.

“Come in.” A voice with the richness and texture of red wine answered.

It was then you fully realized how preoccupied your hands were and began fumbling to open the door. The Captain heard a symphony of clanking and thudding and rose to his feet.

The next thing you knew the door was being swung open, causing you to falter and barely stop the tray from tumbling from your hold. The Captain regarded you with his usual unwavering expression. His inability to change facial expressions sent you spiraling further into a world of nerves. He said nothing as you straightened yourself up.

“Good evening, Captain.” Meeting his gaze, you smiled. You hoped it looked natural but to your superior you just looked constipated.

“I wanted to apologize again for what happened two days ago, sir.” You started, adjusting the grip on the tray. The Captain’s metallic features dropped from your face to the contents of your hands.

“So I bought you more tea as a replacement, and I brewed a fresh pot for you. Squad Leader said you usually drink tea in the mornings and evenings, and I had to train this morning so I decided this was the best time…” You trailed off towards the end of your speech, remembering how he silenced your rambling before.

The Captain didn’t know how to react. No brat, nor anyone for that matter, had ever gone to this length over something so simple as spilling a sachet of tea. Sure he was annoyed when it happened, but never did he expect you to purchase a whole new tin for him. He new tea was not an affordable commodity, especially this brand. He was the tiniest bit touched.

“You bought this?” He asked, hints of shock evident in his voice. He gestured to the box and you nodded rapidly.

“Yes, sir. I bought you a new tin. I hope you don’t mind I placed some of the bags in the kitchen.”

“That’s fine.” He confirmed. Suddenly the tray was being pushed into his chest. Taken aback he moved backwards slightly.

“Please take it as compensation for the trouble I caused.” You requested, your outstretched arms voicelessly asking him to accept your gift. You waited expectantly for him to relieve you of the tea. When he performed no such action you gulped.

“Place it on my desk.” He instructed, nodding his head in the direction of his work space.

“O-oh yes sir!”

He stepped aside to let you scurry over to the desk. Once you set the tray down you saluted him and made your way back to the door. Before you could dismiss yourself the guttural clearing of his throat stopped you dead in your tracks.

“I did not dismiss you, Cadet.”

Rather than butterflies, bats began swarming in the pit of your stomach. They screeched at your nerves and their leathery wings pricked the inside of your skin. Your head explored all of the terrifying scenarios that could come after that phrase. Thankfully you had an overactive imagination.

“Do you know where Squad Leader Mike’s office is?” He questioned, lifeless eyes boring through your chest. You nodded timidly.

“Go give these to him. When you come back, you don’t need to knock.”

Upon your return after a refreshingly brief encounter with Mike you found the Captain totally immersed in the tea. His eyes were closed, breaths rising from deep in his chest, and a smoothness to his features. If you were not completely petrified by his demeanor, you fancied you would have found him quite handsome.

Handing him the documents Mike had traded for the ones you gave him earlier, you made your second attempt to escape from the Captain’s clutches.

“Cadet.” He called just as your fingers brushed the doorknob.

“Yes, sir?”

“Thank you.”

Your eyes went wide and the bats transformed into butterflies, flitting about in a less chaotic manner.

“A-ah yes, of course sir!” You saluted in one fluid and exaggerated motion. He clicked his tongue and waved your salute off. A short silence fell upon the room that caused you to fiddle with the hems of your sleeves. Levi regarded you with unfeeling eyes, yet beneath them your sweet appearance made his chest clench. Just as you were curious about him, a strange interest in you had blossomed within him.

“Do you need anything else sir?” You offered as he rose from his seat to grab two tea cups from the cabinet.

“Sit.” He instructed, his command firm but no hint of authority in his tone.

“P-Pardon, sir?”

“Sit.” He pointed towards one of the chairs in the corner. You brought it over and seated yourself on the opposite side of the desk. The inside of your body felt as if it was filling with iron, making you feel heavy as you awkwardly awaited his next move. The air was painfully thick between the two of you, if you had let out a large breath it would have solidified within seconds.

“Tell me, how do you make it?” He asked, his words thinning the air. His visage remained focused on preparing the tea, a meager knit of the eyebrows the only movement on his face.

“Pardon, sir?”

“The tea. It’s very good.” The butterflies crept back into your bloodstream. Did he just compliment you?

“Thank you, sir!” You exhaled with a smile, extremely relieved that he was satisfied with your repentance.

The Captain then poured the dark liquid into your cup. He handled the teapot with such a delicacy that contrasted his stark disposition; thin, pallid fingers caressed porcelain while acute ashen eyes supervised.

“Sugar?” He asked, his attention still fully on the tea.

“Yes, please.”

“Cream?”

“No, thank you.”

A tap tap of the steel spoon against the rim of the cup was followed by a soft thank you as he pushed the vessel towards you.

“I add a bit of honey to the tea leaves to give it sweetness. Black tea tends to be bitter on its own.” You answered his earlier question, taking a small sip, cautious not to slurp. Instantly the metal oxidized from your body and was replaced with air.

“Interesting. Where did you learn that?” He lilted, adding a stingy amount of cream to his cup.

“I learned how to make and serve tea when I was young. My family is acquainted with some affluent individuals.” Your thumbs traced patterns on the surface of your teacup.

“Affluent, huh?”

“Yes, sir. A bunch of snobby assholes if you ask me.” Your face turned a ghostly pale before flushing bright red. Just when you were nearing the top of the whole you had dug yourself into you had fallen right back in.

“P-pardon my language, sir! I had no intention of speaking vulgarly.” You covered your mouth with your hands, mortified by your tone of speech.

The captain huffed. It was sound that came deep from his chest that made his eyes crinkle slightly and the corner of his lips twitch upward. It was a sound that made your butterflies flit about and generate a lovely fuzzy feeling with each wing beat.

Maybe your Captain wasn’t as scary as you had originally thought.

#levi #levi x reader #LEVI ACKERMAN #levi heichou #attack on titan #Attack on titan fandom #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #levi fanfiction #hange zoe #petra ral #levi/reader #AoT #snk #snk x reader #jean kirschstein #bisexual jean

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forgedroyalseal · 3 years ago

Text

Please don’t leave me chapter 3:

When the red seal on the letter that had arrived by messenger marked URGENT had been torn open, Horace had felt a part of his heart tear off too. Alyss. She had been closer than a sister to him. The grief of losing her had only been overshadow by the grief he felt for Will. Will, who had once been his childhood nemesis. Will, who had saved his life on countless occasions. Will, who was a brother and a best man and a savior and- and who was now a widower. His mournful cry had been for both of them. Alyss was gone, there was nothing that could be done now, but Horace feared that Will’s heart would slip away after her. Alyss had been Will’s entire world. She supported him, gave him courage and strength when he couldn’t find it anywhere else. What would happen to him now that she was gone?

With those thoughts racing through his mind, Horace shoved the letter into his wife’s hands then rushed off to find a maid. He ordered her to pack some clothes for both him and Cassandra, and to have them brought to Castle Redmont. Then he threw some simple necessities into a small pack that he could carry easily on Kicker. By the time he had returned to Cassandra, silent tears were running down her face. He wrapped his arms around her.

“I can’t believe she’s gone.” She whispered.

“Neither can I.”

Cassandra pulled back just enough that she could look into her husband’s eyes. “Are you okay? That’s a stupid question, of course you aren’t.”

“I am going to have to process this later. Right now, we need to go. You read what Halt said, Will isn’t doing well, not that that’s surprising.”

Cassandra nodded, “I’ll start packing- “

Horace cut her off, “It’s all been done, they are going to bring anything we’ll need to Redmont, just go tell your father while I saddle the horses.”

Cassandra went off in search for her father and Horace made his way to the stables.

Horace and Cassandra rode to Redmont like the devil was on their heals. Horace had originally thought that is wife would need to take a longer, overnight rest, but he was reminded of his wife’s resilience, and she was more than capable of riding through the night. They took a page from the ranger’s handbook and alternated between riding and walking to give Kicker and Cassandra’s horse, Archer, a break.

They arrived at Will’s cabin just after midday, and while they were exhausted, they both gained a second wind as they rode up to the home. Tug and Abelard nickered a greeting and Horace quickly untacked Kicker and Archer, then secured them by the lean to, where water and oats were already pour into buckets. Hand in hand the couple walked up to the door. Before Horace could knock, Halt opened it, having been alerted to their arrival by the horses.

“Horace, Cassandra, thank god you’re here.” Halt seemed uncharacteristically emotional as he embraced them both. It made Horace realized how much Alyss’ death was effecting so many people.

They stepped inside and greeted Pauline, who was by the fireplace, gently rocking a baby swaddled in a pale yellow blanket in her arms. Cassandra beelined to the baby and cooed at the sleeping face of Will’s daughter. Normally she wasn’t comfortable around such young children, she had little experience around babies since she was an only child, but something about knowing that this was Will’s baby made her heart melt and her hands reach out without her even realizing it. Pauline however took note and passed the little girl to Cassandra.

“Make sure to support her head. That’s it, good job.” She instructed Cassandra.

While the women’s attention was on the baby, Horace turned to Halt, “How bad is he?” He asked in a low voice.

Halt sighed, “He hasn’t left his bed or eaten since I wrote to you. He feel asleep on the sofa for about 30 minutes but before we could clean him or the room up, he locked himself in his bedroom. He’s still covered in blood, so it the bed. We need to get him out of there. The sheets need to be thrown away, maybe even the mattress, and he needs a long hot bath and a good meal.”

“I am going to try to get him out. Prepare a bath for him while I do in case I manage to convince him to come out.”

Horace walked over to the bedroom door. He knocked, “Will, it’s Horace. You gotta let me in bud.”

“Please leave me alone.” Will’s voice was small and broken.

“Come on Will, open the door so we can have a chat.”

There was a long pause and Horace had started to give up on the idea of being able to get Will to unlock the door, but just as he was about to ask Halt to pick the lock, there was a soft click. Horace grabbed the knob and pushed the door open. Will was on the bed, apparently having rushed back to it after unlocking the door. The metallic smell of blood hit Horace like a wall and he held back a gag. Rust stained sheets surrounded Will like a nest. Will’s once white shirt matched the filthy sheets and his hands looked as though he had dipped them in a bucket of paint.

“Let’s get you cleaned up bud.” Horace approached his friend slowly, speaking gently as though he was trying to calm a wild, injured animal.

“I already told Halt I wasn’t leaving.”

“You don’t need to leave the cabin Will, just this room. Just for a little bit while we clean things up a bit. “

“I can’t.”

Horace crouched down in front of Will, “Why not? Help me to understand.”

“Because if I walk out of this room that means it’s real. She’s really gone. But if I stay here, I can pretend that she is just sitting at the kitchen table, or out on the veranda.”

Horace’s voice got caught in his throat. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. “Will, I am so sorry. I wish there was something I could do to make this all better. But staying in here won’t change anything. It won’t bring her back to you. Come with me. Take a bath, and then you can come back. I can’t just leave you in here like this though. You know that I am right.”

Horace took hold of Will’s hands and started to pull him up. He was met with some resistance at first, but then Will allowed himself to be pulled up and off the bed. Horace guided him out of the room, walking backwards so he could keep a grip on Will’s hands. He lead him out to the bath that Halt had filled with hot water.

“Go inside and start cleaning up. I’ll help Will.” Halt took over.

“Do you need anything?”

“A change of clothes. And if you could start the coffee, I think we are all going to need it. “

“That’s for sure. “ Horace said, then left Will in the capable hands of Halt. He was pretty much the only other person Horace would trust to leave Will with right now, considering his shell shocked condition.

Inside, Pauline and Cassandra had returned the baby to the nurse and were already in the bedroom cleaning. Pauline was stripping the sheets off the bed and Cass was on her knees scrubbing at the floor with a course brush and a bucket of soapy water. Horace paused in the doorway. Sometimes his wife amazed him. Here was the Crown Princess, the most powerful woman in all of Araluen, and she was cleaning blood off of the floor. Then guilt rushed over Horace. How dare he be thinking about how in love he was with his wife in the very room that his best friend had just watched his wife die.

Horace silently went over to the wardrobe and pulled out a new set of clothes for Will. Before he brought them out, he set the kettle over the fire. Outside Halt had helped Will into the tub and was currently using a small brush to try and get the blood out from under his fingernails.

“Pauline and Cass are already working on the bedroom and I’ve got coffee going. What else can I do?” Horace ask Halt.

“There is about 100 other things that need to be done. But why don’t you just sit with us for a moment. Take a moment.“

“I need to keep busy Halt. If I stop moving I’m going to break down and we both know that isn’t going to do anyone any good.”

Halt stared at the young man in front of him and realized that the two of them have more in common than one might thing. After all, that was exactly what Halt was doing, keeping his hands busy so he could shove his own grief into a dark corner of his mind. Was it healthy? Probably not. Was it the only way he was going to get through the next few days? Absolutely.

“I’ve already sent letters off to Crowley and Gilan, but someone needs to tell Baron Arald.”

“I’ll go. It’s only right that it’s me, we were all raised in his ward after all.” Thinking of their childhood in Redmont’s ward made his eyes sting and Horace took a deep breath, pushing back the tears.

“After I’ll find Jenny and George. Alyss was like a sister to them too. I don’t want them to hear it from someone else.”

“You are a good friend Horace.” Halt turned back to Will who’s eyes were empty and drooping.

“I will be back soon Will.” Will was unresponsive and Horace sighed. It seemed like Will was going in and out of shock. Hopeful once he got cleaned up and ate something, he’d start to become more coherent.

Horace told Cassandra where he was going and was about to walk out of the cabin to saddle Kicker, but a cry from the other bedroom stopped him in his tracks. Before he could think twice about it, he was standing in the nursery. The nurse was comforting the baby who was in her crib.

“Can I see her?” Horace asked, realizing he hadn’t even looked at the baby since he had arrived, his attention had been focused solely on Will.

“Sir Horace! Of course, I’ll step into the hall. Call me if you need anything.”

Once she left, Horace stood awkwardly over the crib. The little girl had calmed down and was just making faint fussing sounds. He knew that it was probably too soon to tell, but Horace could’ve sworn she was a spitting image of her father. Her father. In all of the grief, Horace had completely forgotten that his best friend was a father now.

“You’ve got the best father little one. Did you know that? I know that he’s not himself right now, but he is going to love and protect you better than anyone else ever could. You’ll see. And I will be the best uncle. I will spoilt you relentlessly, even when your dad tells me not too. And when you get old, I will tell you all of the most embarrassing stories about your dad. Everything will be okay.” Horace carefully placed one of his large hands on the baby’s head.

“You shouldn’t fill her head with lies Horace. “

Horace spun around and saw a cleaner, but still exhausted, Will leaning against the doorframe.

“What lies?”

“About me being a good father.”

“You will be. I know that right now-“

“No Horace. You don’t understand. I can’t be a good father anymore. I can’t be a father at all. Not without Alyss.”

#ranger's apprentice #rangers apprentice #fanfic #ra fanfic #please don’t leave me

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cycwrites · 4 years ago

Text

WIP Things aka Unofficial Fic Tease

In order to remind myself that I’ve left all of you hanging for the rest of my trilogy rewrite, I thought I would post my unbeta’d, unedited, good with the bad chapter 1 for the second movie. I also have hope that it will make me feel guilty for taking so damn long and get back to it. Especially since I’ve basically closed myself off from writing (and the muses) and I’m trying to pry the doors back open because I really do miss sharing my stories with you guys.

I wrote this well over a year ago, along with a 2nd chapter that deals with the Dean’s office, and really just hope you like it.

--------

About Damn Time

Chapter One: So That Happened

Word Count: 2600 -------- ~B~

At the end of Beca’s junior year, two things of note happened.

First: Chloe, once again, made the decision to stay with Beca and the Bellas and failed Russian Lit for the third time. Beca had tried to talk her out of it, torn between wanting Chloe to move forward in her life beyond Barden and guilt that she was relieved they wouldn’t have to figure out how to work a long distance relationship. She wasn’t ready to try that and couldn’t imagine leading the group without her. But Chloe had insisted this was where she’d wanted to be and she didn’t feel like she was missing out on anything.

Second: The Bellas were asked to perform at President Obama’s 50th birthday celebration at the Kennedy Center on August 8th.

Beca had laughed when the call had come through the never used landline at the Bella house.

“Good afternoon, this is Mack Johnson and I’m calling on behalf of the White House…”

“Yeah right. Nice try, Jesse.” She hung up and pulled out her cell phone as she walked into the kitchen. Pausing by the counter she typed out a quick message to him.

Beca: I’ve gotta give you points for originality though. You almost sounded like an actual adult.

She poured herself a glass of lemonade before he answered.

Jesse: I’m going to take that as a compliment and ignore the wound to my manly pride, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Beca: Whatever you say, ‘Mack.’ If you’d said you were calling from anywhere but the White House I might’ve let you keep talking.

Instead of answering via text, Jesse called her.

“Are you day drinking, Mitchell?” Jesse clucked his tongue. “Without your lesbro? I’m hurt, Becaw.”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Beca lifted her glass and took a sip. “What inspired your call today?”

“Uh, your cryptic and confusing texts to me, of course.” Jesse chuckled. “Want to clue me in?”

Beca sighed. “Man you’re committed to this.”

“To what?”

Beca set her glass on the counter. “Fine – you just called me and –” She jumped as the phone in the living room rang for only the second time in her years at Barden. “Pretended… to be… from the White House.”

“I thought you said you weren’t drinking?” Jesse laughed but it sounded distant as Beca watched Chloe answer the phone.

Her girlfriend’s blue eyes went wide and locked on Beca’s as she said, “I’m sorry, did you say you’re calling from the White House?”

“Jesse?” Beca said absently.

“Yes, Beca?” His voice took on an echo as all the blood drained from her face.

“I gotta go pass out now.” She swallowed dryly. “I’ll call you later.”

“Beca wa-”

Beca had remained frozen in the kitchen while Chloe became more and more animated, frantically scribbling down notes on the notepad sitting beside the phone, though her voice was carefully calm and collected. Then she’d run into the kitchen, screaming and jumping in excitement and talking faster than Beca’s shocked mind could process. Drawn by the commotion like a frat boy to a kegger, the rest of the girls soon joined the chaos while Beca still stood frozen by the counter as they swirled around her.

The school had allowed them to stay on campus through the summer so they could discuss songs and choreography. The time had been a whirlwind of security checks and practice and everything they planned needed to be vetted by the performance organizers. Of course, since they’d come to the Bellas after their third ICCA win in a row, there weren’t any real problems.

Until the night of the performance when one set of tangled silks and a desire for no panty lines wrecked everything.

No pun intended.

~B~ Sunday, August 24th, 2014

Beca lay on their bed and stared at the ceiling, listening to Chloe pace beside her.

“I’ve ruined everything.” Pace to the head of the bed. “Destroyed our reputation.” Pace back to the foot. “Made the Bellas a joke.”

Beca sighed and pushed herself up on her elbows. “Chloe. It’s a capella. It’s already a jo-” She stopped as Chloe spun to face her, outraged. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” Beca tried a smile. “I was just trying to lighten the mood.” She let it slip when Chloe just stared at her and Beca dropped back down to gaze at the ceiling. “Won’t make that mistake again.”

“I’m the one who gave Amy the green-light to do ‘Wrecking Ball.’” Chloe resumed pacing.

“Because, despite most of her claims, she actually had done some training on the silks before coming to the states.” Beca countered, as she had for the past three weeks. “She was good on them and never once in our rehearsals did she get tangled up.”

“But-”

“No.” Beca cut her off and sat up, pulling her legs up to sit cross legged and face her. “We all agreed to let her do it. It was a group vote.” She softened her voice and held out her hand. “This isn’t all on you, Chlo.”

With a sigh, Chloe took her hand and let herself be tugged onto the bed. Beca stretched back out and Chloe settled against her side. “It feels like it.”

“That’s because you’re the one who looks out for us.” Beca gently rubbed her back. “No one could’ve predicted this, love.”

“No…” Chloe said grudgingly. “But…”

Beca cut her off again. “There’s no buts.”

“Except Amy’s.” Chloe huffed, tension that had begun to fade making her stiffen up again in Beca’s arms. “All over the news.” She groaned. “Why didn’t I just use the cloth I was freaking holding to cover her up?”

“Same reason I didn’t,” Beca said reasonably, having heard a version of this several times before. “My mind went blank and I couldn’t move. I just… kept waiting to wake up.”

“Same.” Chloe pressed her nose to Beca’s shoulder. “I still am. This is such a nightmare.”

“She feels bad.” Beca offered. “It was her idea to do that press conference.” She winced as Chloe snorted.

“Yeah, where she then tried to show her ‘silk burn’ to the entire world.” Chloe sat up and pushed herself off the bed. “Again.” She resumed pacing and Beca’s mind hunted around for anything she could say to defuse things.

“At least we saved Aubrey’s college legacy from Pukegate?” Even as the words were out of her mouth Beca knew they were stupid and wrong.

“And ruined ours with Muffgate.” Chloe snarled.

“I wish I could find the asshole that came up with that. Bet it was those podcast people and of course everyone else jumped on it.” Beca made a face. “It was an accident and eventually there will be another crisis for them to focus on.” She slid over to the edge of the bed and swung her legs over. “It won’t be forever, Chlo.”

Pace, turn. “But tomorrow we go see the Dean.” Pace, turn. “With those podcast people who are apparently actually part of the Collegiate A Cappella Association.”

“They’re still weird and he’s an ass.” Beca stood up and stretched as she heard the door open at the bottom of the stairs. “Think you’ll be able to enjoy yourself at dinner tonight?”

Chloe stopped by the small table they inherited from Aubrey and took a deep breath. “Of course. It’s Amy’s birthday. I’m not going to ruin it for her.” She flashed Beca a small grin, the first in an hour. “Why do you think I’m up here instead of downstairs?”

“Speaking of,” a new voice said from the stairs. “There’s maybe… A situation.” Jessica smiled apologetically when they both looked at her as she reached the top.

Beca sighed. “Of course there is.”

“Do I even want to know?” Chloe pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Probably not, but Stacie sent me to get you.”

“Coward,” Beca muttered. “She knows I can’t hit you because you’re too nice.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, quick like ripping off a band-aid.”

“Amy’s sitting on the couch. With a towel on her lap.” Jessica hesitated.

“That’s… Why is that a big deal?” Chloe asked, confused.

“She’s… commando. Because of her silk burn.” The blonde’s shoulders bounced once but she didn’t say anything else.

“I swear to fucking god I’m going to glue underwear on her,” Chloe muttered under her breath.

Beca was struck by a horrible thought. “Is she sitting on another towel?”

“We were afraid she’d show us if we asked.” Jessica looked at Beca. “That’s when Stacie sent me to get you.”

“Why do I have to do it?” Beca knew she was whining but couldn’t help it.

“Because you’re the captain.” Jessica shrugged again. “You can threaten her with cardio if she tries to flash us again.”

“Yeah but Amy doesn’t always listen to me and I don’t want to have flashbacks.” Beca reluctantly headed for the stairs as Jessica started back down.

“Birthday or not…” Chloe muttered as she followed.

“I’m sure Lilly has a hot glue gun you can use,” Beca mused, not surprised to find Ashley hanging out in the hallway when they left the attic.

“Don’t tempt me.” Chloe didn’t say anything else the entire trip down the stairs.

Beca rounded the corner, passing Jessica and Ashley who had stopped in the entry and came to a halt herself, Chloe running into her back.

All she could see was the back of Amy’s head but she appeared to be looking straight at Lilly who sat cross-legged on the ottoman and staring back.

“Do I even want to know?” Beca turned her head toward Jessica but didn’t take her eyes off the scene.

“I didn’t ask that either,” came the whispered reply.

Beca took a bracing breath then walked into the living room. Despite the reassurance that the covering towel existed, Beca didn’t relax until she saw it for herself. It was nothing personal against Amy, but Beca just didn’t want to see any of the Bellas naked, Chloe being the obvious exception. You never knew when the visual would pop back in your head and Amy had already shown up enough in the past few weeks to last a lifetime.

“Amy.” Beca looked up at a sound from the kitchen and saw Stacie leaning in the doorway with Cynthia Rose and Flo sitting at the center island.

“Captain.” Amy didn’t turn her head or avert her gaze.

“Are you guys in a staring contest?” Beca frowned, looking between the two women. “And if so why?”

“I don’t know,” Amy lifted one shoulder. “All I know is she hasn’t blinked since she sat down and why take the risk of losing.”

Beca felt her eyes twitch at the thought. “Jesus, please cut it out before my eyes start watering.” She stepped between them and Amy closed her eyes in relief.

“Thanks, Shawshank. That was starting to burn.” She started to lift one corner of the towel to wipe her eyes and Beca threw out her hand.

“Nope. That stays there.” Chloe said it before Beca could.

“Please tell me you’re sitting on another towel.” Beca sighed and ran her hand through her hair.

“Of course I am!” Amy actually looked indignant. “I’m not a heathen, Beca.” She rolled her eyes. “The pants I want to wear to dinner are tight, so I’m giving my bits time to breathe first.”

“Now that’s in my head.” Cynthia Rose muttered from the kitchen.

“That’s in all our heads,” Ashley said from the doorway behind them.

“You could always wear that blue skirt,” Chloe offered diplomatically. “That way you’re not uncomfortable for your birthday dinner.”

“I do look hot in that.” Amy thought about it while the rest of them made sounds of agreement. “Alright, you’ve swayed me. And as it’s almost that time, guess I’ll go upstairs and change.” She started to stand as Beca moved back then paused. “If you’d all turn around and give me some privacy while I wrap?”

Beca rolled her eyes as she turned to face the front window that, thankfully, had the curtains drawn. “That’s what you get for being half naked in the public areas of the house.”

“I got bored in my room.” Beca heard Amy stand up and the rustle of fabric. “Alright, I’m decent.”

“Hey!”

Beca jumped at the unexpected shout and looked over her shoulder. Stacie had come out of the kitchen and was pointing at the couch.

“That’s my favorite towel!” Outage filled her face. “I was looking for that for over a week!”

“It’s also the softest towel in the house.” Amy said as she picked it up, tucking the other firmly around her waist. “It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt when I’m sitting.”

A choked sound from behind her brought Beca’s eyes back around to Chloe, who was biting the inside of her cheek and trying not to giggle. “I’m sure she’ll wash it before she gives it back.”

Beca tried to choke back her laugh and ended up sounding like a pug with a cold as she snickered into her hand.

“I think…” Stacie sighed. “Happy Birthday, Amy. It’s all yours.”

“You sure, Stretch?” Amy threw the towel in question over her shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll need it for much longer.”

“Yup.” Stacie nodded emphatically. “I’ll go get another one this weekend.”

“Thanks, Stacie.” Amy smiled at her before her lips twisted slightly. “Sorry I didn’t ask first.”

“’S okay.” Stacie shrugged. “Now go get changed so we can celebrate your day.”

“Are you allowed to give me orders on my birthday?” Amy mused as she headed for the stairs.

“Probably not,” Beca said. “But I’ll probably do it anyway.”

“Bossy.” Chloe whispered behind her and Beca flashed her a grin.

“Alright.” Beca clapped her hands once. “Show’s over, let’s go get our party outfits on and get some grub. We’ve got a Bella to celebrate.”

Stacie walked past her, shaking her head. “Bossy.”

Beca let her head fall back as she stared at the ceiling. “I can’t with you two.”

“What?” Stacie paused in the door to the entry. “Did we do the thing again?”

“Yup.” Chloe pushed Beca toward the stairs. “I called her that thirty seconds ago.” She high fived Stacie over Beca’s shoulder when the tall woman grinned and held out her hand.

“Score one for us.” Stacie laughed and started up the stairs.

“I hate you guys.” Beca said weakly as she followed.

“Liar,” Chloe laughed and ran her hand down Beca’s back.

“Maybe.” Beca let Chloe go before her.

“Definitely.”

“Yeah yeah,” Beca waved her up the stairs, unable to help admiring the way Chloe’s muscles flexed as she moved. “But seriously, my stomach just woke up and if I don’t feed it soon it’s going to take over the world.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Stacie saluted as she stepped into her room.

“Smartass,” Beca threw back.

“And you love it.” Stacie closed the door with a laugh.

“Stop flirting with Stacie and let’s go change before you get hangry.” Chloe took her hand and tugged on it.

“She wishes,” Beca muttered but followed Chloe up to their room, ignoring the ‘Often’ that came from Stacie’s room behind them.

‘She’s got bat hearing, I swear.’ Beca thought to herself as she went to the closet to get her outfit for the night.

Tomorrow was still looming over them, but Beca pushed it all away, determined to think about Amy and the Bellas for the rest of the night.

It was one mistake and they’d just won three years in a row. Surely they weren’t in that much trouble.

Right?

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #all the other bellas #rise 1 #cyc fic tease #cyc motivational seeker

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targaryen-vigilante-wizard-jedi · 4 years ago

Text

The Child Of Geralt's Past

Pairing; (Platonic) Geralt x (Daughter)Reader

Warnings; potentially upsetting, involves death.

The small blonde ran into his arms with a haste like no other and he welcomed her albeit he was hesitant. Trying to suppress a gulp and repress his memories, he looked to the young girl but found himself to be looking at a face other than the Princess'.

Events occur 20 years prior to the first episode of the Netflix show

"You have to raise the sword higher," His white hair swayed in the wind as he took strides towards the young girl. He positions her arms in an upright manner and takes a step back.

"I don't understand why I need training when you won't even let me hold a real sword." The fourteen year old complained lowering the wooden stick to the ground. He lowered himself beside the fire and looked up at her while taking the skin off of a piece of roasted chicken.

"You don't, not while I'm around." Geralt reassured, his eyes rising from the chicken to the young girl who rolled her eyes and sat across from him.

"You're not always going to be around," she paused a twinge of regret seeping into her at her choice of words. She shook her head and continued speaking. "I could help you." She got up and sat beside him, their shoulders touching.

"I want to help you." Her eyes pierced into his. He averted his eyes and didn't respond, informing her that the conversation was over.

Three months had passed since she had last brought up the idea of joining him on one of his 'quests' -as she had called them- but Geralt had not changed his mind and was currently off, fighting monsters in the forest nearby the small village she currently resided in.

She had been reading a book, a fable Geralt had gotten her as a gift of sorts for her twelfth birthday (her birthday had been the day they had encountered one another), it told the story of a man named Jacob who had been shunned by those in his village for becoming overwhelmed with an illness which made his skin resemble that of a snake's until one day he slowly transformed into said creature.

A bell was ringing all throughout the village and sounds of manic yells and screams sounded throughout the village alongside it.

Her heart sped up and the first thing she had done was closed her book and ran out of the room, her hands still grasping it as she did so.

When she emerged she could see the barkeep cowering behind his counter and the patrons boarding up the inn.

"What's going on?" She asked her eyes wide and mouth agape. An older man with brown-grey hair and a balding beard turned to her drenched in sweat. "The dead, lass. Your witcher won't be finding them in no forest, they've come to the village, dozens, if not hundreds of 'em. We only thought there was ten of 'em at most." He shook his head overwhelmedat the thought.

She gulped before setting her book on the counter and walking toward the barkeep. "We should start a fire- perhaps that will deter them."

______

Geralt had been trudging his way back to the village, vexed that the villagers had lied to him and wasted his time as well as one of his potions. The only upside had been that he had been paid in full for a job he didn't even need to do.

It wasn't until he got closer that he heard a commotion of sorts despite doubting it would be anything more than two drunks fighting Geralt quickened his pace until he could hear it more; women weeping, men defiantly yelling, children screaming. Geralt's eyes widened in realisation before he began to race through the forest as best as he could with his sword at the ready.

He could see smoke rising from above the trees, he could smell it. Death and fire was all he could see as he emerged from the forest.

The village was up in flames, people running and screaming as creatures crawled, walked and sprinted towards them.

The streets were flooded with debris from the buildings and torn apart villagers.

"Y/N!" He shouted frantically as he ran through the village, failing to acknowledge those who too were in peril, and needed saving, around him.

"Geralt!" A strained voice yelled from ahead of him accompanied by coughing.

Thundering footsteps accompanied him as he ran towards her voice, hoping to see her emerge from the cloud of smoke.

"Geralt where are you?" She shouted despaired accompanied by more coughing.

She was close by he knew that and just as he was about to run past another fallen building he heard a weak raspy, gasp and as strange as it is he knew it was her.

He looked and saw her, clutching her stomach, one of the dead laying atop of her headless.

He rushed over to her falling to his knees. "Y/N," he breathed, his eyes assessing her current state. Her eyes were weary and half-lidded, her mouth open and her chest and wounded stomach rising and falling unsettlingly slow but the worst of all was the wound she had sustained on her neck, a chunk of it had been taking and despite it being small, the blood loss she was experiencing was fatal.

For the first time in a long time, he felt tears come to his eyes. "Stay awake." He demanded grasping her cheek with a steady hand. Pitifully she lay her hand atop his which continued to grasp her cheek though she didn't possess the strength to tighten her grip.

"It's o-" she paused opening her eyes a little wider to look at Geralt, whose eyes were still assessing her wounds. "It's okay."

A deep sigh escaped Geralt before he shook his head. "Come on," he grasped her limp body in his arms and with a slight struggle finally lifted her in his arms carrying her as he had done when she was only a babe.

She hadn't even the strength to wince at the pain of his actions and instead attempted to stay awake and gaze at her Geralt's determined face.

"You know what they say when one gets bitten by the undead." Y/N stated with a sigh as she tried desperately to look at her stomach wound.

Geralt didn't answer her and she didn't know whether it was because he had ignored her or was too overcome by the thought of saving her from her sealed fate.

"I'll become one of them, won't I?" She stifled a sob determined not to cry and make Geralt feel any guilt for not being there.

His eyes looked to her face as he shook his head. "I won't let you, we'll get help-" Her voice interrupted his brashly as she pushed his statement out the window with reason.

"I can already feel it." She revealed with a shudder as she felt even colder than she previously had.

Geralt could see his horse, Roach, within the distance, who seemed completely unaware of her surroundings.

"I'm scared." She admitted reaching a hand to Geralt's hardened face.

"We'll get you to a healer just hold on." Geralt told her fiercely as he went to set her down on the ground.

As he stood up to retrieve his bag of potions from Roach a hand grasped his wrist firmly.

"Don't." Y/N pleaded with a sob. Geralt tried to tug his arm away feeling heated. "I have to try Y/N-" He spoke, his voice rough and harsher than he had intended.

"It's no use!" She weeped loudly. "Just stop please I don't want to become one of them!" She begged, her sobbing causing her even more pain. Geralt ignored her and pulled his wrist from hers and grabbed the bag before making his way back to her.

He spit the cork out of one of the poitons; a pain alleviation potion. Despite her pleas he forced the potion into her mouth before throwing it away, resulting in it smashing.

Before she could speak again he had forced another one into her mouth, one that would slow her fate.

Instead of being thankful she just sobbed, knowing that what he had done was pointless and would urge him to keep preventing the death she knew awaited her.

After he had done so, he grasped her gently and set her atop Roach and repositioned his bag on Roach again.

Wordlessly he sat himself on Roach, positioning himself behind Y/N.

"We'll won't make it to a healer in time, you have to do it now." She murmured softly as she slouched against him.

"Yes we will." Was all he had responded with as they continued to ride onward to the next village over which was 12 hours away at the least.

_______

Geralt started to feel deflated as he realised night had approached and he couldn't see the path ahead. He slowed Roach and peered down to look at the young girl who was unconscious but still alive. His eyes traced her jaw where her veins were now prominent but upon closer inspection it appeared that her veins were transparent all over her face.

Wordlessly he placed a kiss on top of her head, slightly shaking as he did so. He knew he was too late, he had no more potions to delay her illness and she would die any second now so he decided to do the only thing he could, comfort her.

He halted Roach and dismounted her before lifting Y/N up, waking her in the process and setting her on the ground, with her back against a tree.

He then proceeded to make a fire, trying to make the scene as normal as possible for both him and Y/N.

It had taken a few minutes of switching sticks but he finally struck a flame onto the pile of twigs he had stacked together.

The fire wasn't large but would still supply them with heat. He made his way over to Y/N and sat beside her. His eyes glossed her face, trying to recreate what she had looked like prior to the deterioration her body now faced.

It was silent for quite a few minutes before Y/N spoke up. "I'm scared." She admitted for the second time that day and Geralt kept his eyes on her face as he reached out to push away a strand of her hair.

"I know, I am too." He breathed deeply wanting to say more but not knowing what to say.

"Don't let me know when you're going to do it." She instructed before breathing out a slow tremoring breath.

Geralt didn't reply or ask what she meant because he knew exactly what she meant and couldn't find the strength within him to even contemplate the thought of what he would do.

Silence ensued once again as both their eyes found comfort in the fire in front of them.

"I just," she paused attempting to compose herself and suppress a sob, drawing Geralt's eyes to her. "Want you to know that I've enjoyed every day with you and you're the best thing to ever happen to me," she found the strength to look at him. "I love you dad." At her statement Geralt smiled and tears trickled down his face. He wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could without hurting her. "I love you more than anything, kiddo." He stated shutting his eyes tightly.

Once he removed his arms from her he saw her eyes glossing over and took notice that she was going in and out of consciousness. With careful slow movements as to not arouse suspicion he sat behind her so that she was placed between his legs with her back to his chest.

He stroked her hair, attempting to muster up the courage to do what must be done. He heard her struggle to breath and watched as her body convulsed repeatedly. He couldn't afford to look at her face or else he'll lose the courage to do what he has to.

"I'm sorry." He whispered mostly to himself than to her before wrapping one arm around her neck and forcing her head to turn so quickly that it snapped ceasing her pain and her existence.

As soon as it was done, his shuddering breath interrupted the silence of the forest and he forced himself to look ahead not daring to look down at what he had done. She lay limply in his arms. He didn't want to let her go, he couldn't so he just sat there, and attempted to trick his own mind into believing that she lay asleep in his arms, that her body was moving because she was restless in her sleep and not because his chest forced her body to move in sync with his breaths.

He lay in that uncomfortable position for hours, his breathing had calmed slightly but he still could not come to terms with what he had done. He couldn't fathom knowing he wouldn't ever see or hear her again or that he had been the one to kill her. It was the early hours once he had found the strength to move her and he had done so with his eyes closed.

As he stood he faced away from her body -which was propped against the tree- contemplating whether to bury it or to burn it.

Once his mind was made up, he left her along with Roach to search for more wood to create a pyre, a memorial if you will.

Once he was satisfied with his findings he got to work on the pyre, ignoring the thought of the person he was building it for.

It took him an hour or two and he had to use some strips of the shirt he wore to tie the many bits of wood together but after seeing it decorated with her blood he decided to discard it.

Once that first challenge was done the next came and with dread he turned to look at Y/N's body. Her face was a lot more pallid than its original dark/tan/peach/light colour however the veins were not visible anymore, and with the exceptions of the massive wounds and blood covering her, she looked asleep.

He felt relieved that he had managed to halt the process of her becoming a creature like him, but part of him would've rather she become a creature than die, but he would never have subjected her to that life against her will.

He began to make a fire again although this time it ignited upon his torn shirt which he had lay on the ground. He grasped the shirt from the end which was not yet burning and threw it onto the pyre. Although it took some time, the majority of the pyre was alight before it was noon and so as gently as he could he lifted Y/N's body as though he didn't want to wake her from her slumber and approached the flaming pyre.

He stopped directly in front of it and looked to the young girl in his arms. He stroked her face and looked fondly, taking note of her face so it would be engraved in his memory forever.

He leaned forward and placed a firm kiss to her forehead before wordlessly setting her body on the pyre, scalding his arms in the process. He flinched but didn't pull away until he was satisfied that she was presented as respectfully as possible.

Once he was done he turned away and walked over to the tree, bile making it's way out of his mouth as he vomited from the stress and pain he was enduring.

A sob escaped him and tears fell from his face before he once again composed himself with a deep breath and retrieved his dagger.

He walked to the tree Y/N had died under and carved her name and the date she had died.

It was decided from that moment that this was her grave. He waited until the fire died down, feeding Roach and talking with her, hoping to extract some kind of comfort from the mare. Once the fire was gone and all that was left was dead wood and ashes he approached the pyre where Y/N's body no longer lay and ashes lay instead. He retrieved as much of Y/N's ashes as he possibly could and scooped them into an empty potion bottle before leaving for good, never to return.

_____

As he gazed at Cirilla, his mind could only see Y/N in that moment as though he had been given a second chance to protect her but once he dismissed his vision he was disillusioned when he realised that the girl who stood before him was his law of surprise, Princess Cirilla.

Despite feeling some disappointment he felt a determination as he had a purpose again so he swore to himself that he would raise Cirilla different, that she would become a fighter, as strong as she could be so that she may survive unlike Y/N and live the life Geralt had hoped Y/N could.

He clutched his medallion which was engraved with the first intial of Y/N's name and held within it Y/N's ashes.

'Missing you everyday kiddo.'

(Just want to say thanks to reading all of @cas-kingdom witcher fics I managed to build the courage to finish my own. It might be a bit rusty since it's my first time writing a fic on Tumblr but I'm pretty happy with it. I completely made up Jacob's story btw.)

#the witcher imagine #the witcher x reader #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #daughter #father #dad witcher x daughter reader #platonic #one shot #sad #netflix #henry cavill #cirilla #daughter reader #fanfiction #geralt imagine

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lostinfantasyworlds · 4 years ago

Text

Teaser for Under the Northern Lights, Chapter 8: Stay

I CAN’T EVEN TELL YOU HOW EXCITED I AM TO SHARE THIS TEASER.

This is the moment for this story.

As in, one of the very first moments I imagined when I first came up with the idea for UTNL. Basically, everything that has happened so far in the story was just a lead up to this one scene I had imagined months ago.

This is a long ass teaser (almost 2k words), but this is going to be one of those ridiculously long chapters again, so it’s still only a small snippet. I have a feeling you guys won’t mind the length for this one 😉 .

This is still subject to light editing later on, even though I spent 3+ hours editing this one small section today because I am a crazy person.

Taglist (let me know if you want on or off!): @aelianadawn @alisanangel @alysssa-inukag @bluehawaiicat @born-for-eachother @deactivated2431545484 @goshinote @gruviyasharuto @inussunflower @julyzaa @keks-creations @ladyaerilla @littleredwritinghat @liz8080 @malditamigs @neutronstarchild @purplemys @redflamesofpassion @rocioanime4 @sailorlolo @sangoslays @sunsetskys @superpixie42 @theinuyashareader @zukkosbaby

Inuyasha smiled before standing up and walking to the coat hooks by the door. With the fire roaring, it was finally warm inside the cabin, making the coat he was still wearing feel like overkill.

Kagome watched as he shrugged off his jacket and hung it on one of the hooks, gasping when she saw what was underneath. Inuyasha’s sweater had been completely torn to shreds on his left side, dark red blood staining the frayed edges of the fabric.

“Inuyasha!” Kagome exclaimed, standing up abruptly.

“What?” Inuyasha asked, alarmed by her tone. Why did it sound like he was being reprimanded all of the sudden?

“You’ve been taking care of me this whole time when you have even worse injuries?!”

Kagome pointed to his side where his shirt was torn, starting to walk around the back of the couch so she could inspect his wounds. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Inuyasha looked down at where she was pointing, vaguely surprised to find his sweater in bloody tatters.

“Keh, this is nothing for someone like me. Just scratches,” he said nonchalantly, twisting a little as he inspected the wounds underneath. He brought his hands to his side to move the torn fabric out of the way, his mild surprise turning into annoyance.

“Sucks that this sweater got ruined though, I just bought it a few days ago.”

What a fuckin’ waste of money. Stupid wolves.

Inuyasha sighed a little, gripping the hem of the ruined sweater and pulling it off over his head. He walked around the breakfast counter to stand at the sink, balling up the sweater and throwing it in the trash along the way. Tearing a few paper towels from the roll on the counter, he wet them in the sink before starting to dab at the patches of blood on his torso.

All while Kagome stood transfixed, frozen in place, unable to stop her jaw from dropping.

Not only were his wounds already closing up on their own, but Inuyasha was now standing shirtless in front of her.

The man she felt more attracted to than all of the other men she had been with, combined.

Half-naked.

Right there.

And we’re completely alone…

It was a scenario she had envisioned since she first saw him in the daylight. Finding herself alone with him, getting to see the hidden planes of his body. It was something she had thought about in the shower in Denali, imagining his hands were the ones running across her body, instead of her own.

She had produced quite the detailed fantasy in her mind of what he might look like underneath the layers of clothing he typically wore, and yet, it couldn’t compare to real life.

He was so hot.

So ridiculously fucking hot.

She couldn’t even think of a more eloquent word to describe him, due to the fact that her brain had short circuited the moment his fingers slipped under the hem of his ruined sweater. It felt like she had been hit by a freight train of lust, rendering her utterly useless as she watched his large muscles rippling underneath his tawny skin.

It didn’t help that the position he was in only accentuated the very features that had her heart racing faster by the second. As he wiped the blood from his skin, his forearms and biceps flexed subtly, his well-defined abs tensing from the twisted position. Every last ripple and bulge was an ode to his strength, the raw power that had kept her safe.

The way he had protected and cared for her over the last week tapped into a primal, instinctual desire that she wasn’t even aware she had. An attraction to his chivalry and brawn and that was deeply ingrained in her subconscious, and only made her want him that much more.

She wanted to feel that smooth skin and solid muscle underneath her fingertips. To grip him as hard as she could while he surrounded her with that delicious body of his and she surrendered to him completely.

Kagome had to stop herself from letting out an audible whine as she watched several drops of water slide down his side, trailing down until they met the belted cargo pants that hung low on his hips.

She had to be in a movie.

Or a porno.

People don’t just look like that in real life.

Men don’t just show up, with adorable dog ears and chiseled jaws, and steal your heart in a matter of days. They don’t just appear out of nowhere at the last minute to save you from being eaten by wolves.

And they certainly don’t just casually undress in front of the person they had been flirting with for days like it was no big deal.

As if they hadn’t been about thirty seconds from fucking each other in the middle of a restaurant yesterday.

He seemed to have genuinely forgotten for the moment, not even looking in her direction as he inadvertently flaunted his body. Apparently, he had no inkling of the effect he was having on her.

Finally managing to tear her eyes from him, she turned away so as not to get caught staring. Her mind raced a mile a minute as she stood awkwardly near the front door, unsure of what to do with herself.

She knew he wanted her too, but where did they stand after everything that just happened in the last twenty-four hours?

He had just saved her life, risking his own in the process.

He had invited her into his home, something he claimed he had never done for anyone else before.

It was all so overwhelming that it felt wrong, in a way, to try and make a move on him right now. Especially when his mind was clearly not following the same train of thought at the moment.

She already felt like a voyeur for staring at him unabashedly when he had only been trying to clean up his wounds.

This was his home, a place where he probably felt safe and in control. He had to be the one to make the call. If he wasn’t thinking about finishing what had been set into motion two days ago, after everything that happened, then she couldn’t blame him.

Unfortunately, Kagome was losing any semblance of self-control by the second. The freight train was now off the tracks and barreling towards Inuyasha with no way of stopping it. If she didn’t leave now, there was no telling what she might do.

Inuyasha finished wiping the blood off his torso, the deep scratches he had sustained from fighting off the wolves already mostly healed over. He threw the blood-soaked paper towels into the trash, and was just about to go grab another sweater, when he stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes snapping to Kagome.

That scent...holy fuck.

He had caught whiffs of the delicious spicy-sweet addition to Kagome’s scent that indicated her arousal before. Most notably during the ending of that game of truth-or-dare, and last night when he spread her legs under the table at dinner.

It had been hard enough to keep himself in control those times, wanting nothing more than to give in to his desire and take her right there.

But now?

Her scent was stronger and smelled more delicious than any of those times before. He could already feel himself salivating in response, wanting to taste the sweetness of it on his tongue.

But what the hell had caused such a strong, sudden infusion of arousal into her scent? He looked around for clues, everything clicking into place as he realized that he was standing there half-naked, Kagome pointedly looking away from him. He could faintly hear her heart beating faster than usual, her cheeks flushed.

Kagome was smelling like that...from him taking his shirt off?

Well, that was certainly an ego boost.

He had done it without thinking, completely distracted by his wounds and every other fucking thing that had happened that night. He had been in “protect” mode, focused solely on dealing with the situation and making sure Kagome was okay. There had been no room in his mind for thoughts of the current state of their relationship, only the overwhelming need to ensure her safety.

But now...it was as if a switch had been flipped in his mind.

They were finally alone.

She was unharmed, and clearly wanted him.

She was...putting her boots back on like she was trying to leave?

Huh?

“Uh...Kagome? What’re you doing?”

Kagome still seemed unable to look at him as she picked up her camera bag.

“I should probably get going. I...want to check in on Miroku and Sango first thing tomorrow, and...you — you’ve already done so much for me, I don’t want to put you out any longer,” she said distractedly, fumbling over her words like she was trying to make up excuses as she went along.

Inuyasha stood dumbstruck and utterly confused, unable to come up with any kind of coherent response.

“Uh…”

He watched her secure the strap of her camera bag across her shoulder, trying to make sense of the disconnect between what his nose was telling him and the way she was acting. Her scent had only grown more potent in the moments since he first smelled it, but now she was acting as though she couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

What the fuck was going on?

Had he done something wrong?

Inuyasha walked around the breakfast bar, not sure what he was about to do, but needing to do something. He halted, standing in the middle of the cabin, when Kagome finally turned to look at him.

She looked even more beautiful than usual with her cheeks flushed, her eyes burning bright with the same desire as her scent.

“Thank you, again, for everything, Inuyasha. I’ll see you tomorrow at noon.”

Her voice was quiet and sincere, if not a bit shaky. She smiled warmly at him, giving no indication that he had done anything wrong.

Every sign pointed to her wanting him.

But, if she wanted him, then why was she leaving?

Unless she thought he had changed his mind since last night?

Inuyasha watched her turn towards the door and reach for the handle as if in slow motion, her long black hair sliding over her shoulders. She was wearing his sweatpants, and for some reason, it was the sexiest thing in the world.

And that fucking scent of hers was driving him absolutely wild.

There was no way he could let her walk out that door.

Gathering all the confidence he could muster, he spoke clearly and loudly enough to get her attention.

“Or…”

Kagome’s hand froze on the doorknob, turning her head slightly towards him in a clear indication that she was listening.

Inuyasha’s next words were quieter, his voice trembling a little despite his best attempt at confidence.

“...you could stay.”

#inukag #utnl #under the northern lights #thank you Jane for looking this over as always!! 😘#hoping to get the full chapter out by next Friday #but we'll see how it goes #i'm trying my best!!

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