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cherryclxud · 1 year ago

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Catch me if you can Lord Holmes pt2

(ENOLA HOLMES)!Sherlock x BRIDGERTON! reader

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Description: a writer by the name of Marcus Bradford has taken the Ton by storm with his weekly edition chapter of a crime story, Sherlock is tasked with finding Marcus Bradford and solving the case of the abominable bride. but what if meeting a certain Bridgerton girl distracts him from the case?

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: none

Taglist <3 : @frost-queen @siannaplmn @annesunlight @jolixtreesunn @probabydeadbynow @chloepluto1306 @gayandfairycore @queenfairyfangirl @viylikescats @hipsternerd9 @delusional-4-fake-people

read below for credits.

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SLEEPING AT 221B BAKER STREET USUALLY came easy to Enola. Seeing as there was quite literally very little for her to do, however, for the past 2 nights it has become increasingly difficult for her not to get out of bed and shout at her brother to put the violin down.

Sherlock was stuck, and Enola could tell by his incessant playing of the violin, the notes he was playing were all gloomy grey. With a sigh, she put her head under the pillow and slammed her hand over it to cover her ears in the hope of respite from the sound. Of course, for the first 4 hours he was playing Enola felt sympathy, but when his playing started to get in the way of her sleep that's when her sympathy towards Sherlock turned to contempt towards the violin.

She had reached the point where she imagined scenarios of her grabbing scissors and cutting the strings, or of her taking the violin and throwing it out the window.

Somehow the music playing seemed to penetrate through the pillow, making the girl move the pillow, turn to her back and glare at the ceiling. She got up and stomped the the drawing room where her brother sat there playing the insipid instrument.

“SHERLOCK” she shouted over the music causing her brother to play a wrong note before stopping and turning to her. “Enola? Shouldn't you be asleep by now?” he looked out the window and saw the moon still high in the sky.

Enola crossed her arms while rolling her eyes, “geez Sherlock that's a great idea, i was getting quite tired and had no idea how to remedy it, you have truly opened my eyes” Her voice was full of sarcasm yet Sherlock paid no mind to it as he was distracted.

“Hmm yes well I suppose you should get to it”.

Enola scoffed as she saw her brother pick up the violin about to resume his playing once more “Sherlock! I can't if you insist on playing at this time.” she pointed to the instrument as the older Holmes looked down at it with a sigh.

“Ah, I see, my apologies sister I seemed to have gotten carried away” he places the instrument on its stand before slamming it down on the settee with a sigh and closes his eyes as he continues to think.

Enola turns around, happy that the peace and quiet has finally infiltrated the home, she goes on her way to her room and just as she was about to go in she stops. She turns to look to her brother, she really felt pity for him at this point, losing sleep over looking for this man who could quite literally be anywhere in England.

“Sherlock, what's wrong?”

Sherlock opens his eyes and lifts his head to look at his sister. “Nothing Enola you should go to bed, I promise I won't play anymore”

He watches as his sister walks across the room only stopping at the coffee table to pick up his tobacco pipe and hold it in between her lips in thought. “Oh look at me I'm Sherlock and I must find out everything about everyone yet never let anyone find out anything about me” she spoke in a mock deep voice as she sat next to him.

HE leaned forward and snatched the pipe from her mouth before wiping the mouthpiece with his shirt. Enola watched as he lit the pipe with a match and smoked in silence, a frown etched on his face. She decided to change the subject hoping it would get her brother to open up more about what was bothering him.

“Y/n and i have been writing to each other”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow “y/n Bridgerton? The viscount's sister?” Enola nodded

“Yes we have been speaking since we met Nonestop, she is actually quite amusing.” Enola smiled recounting the letters they both shared. Sherlock rolled his eyes but deep inside was happy that his sister had found someone to be friends with. He was worried that his taking care of her had caused his disinterest in forging real connections with people had spread to her. He didn't want her to lean on him and not connect with anyone else.

He found himself grateful for y/n's sudden but effective presence in his sister's life.

“She's quite like you, you know?” Enola spoke looking nowhere in particular. This caught Sherlock's attention as he looked back to his sister, “How so?”

“Well for starters she's smart…well not as smart as you, no one as smart as you” Enola rolled her eyes before grabbing a small rubber ball she found lying on the floor and bounced it up and down a few times, “She reads a lot, she told me when her brother would return from oxford for the summer she would take the books he'd read and read and study his essays and annotations”

Sherlock, who was staring at the floor where the ball was bouncing, chuckled quietly remembering one year at Oxford when Anthony had returned from his stay with his family missing the book he was meant to be studying for the semester and sheets of essays he had worked on during the time off, and how frazzled he was trying to rewrite what he could from memory, only to have it delivered to him with a letter of apology from his sister later that night.

“You know she even read that boring book you wrote on like the two hundred and forty types of tobacco” she offhandedly spoke not noticing her brother's smile dropped “Two hundred and forty-three”

“I believe that that was the only copy sold brother mine,” she smirked

“I'll have you know I sold three copies” he grumbled looking away.

Enola laughed “That's because Mycroft and I each bought a copy in support of you”

Sherlock scoffed and stood up walking to the window and looked outside pretending to be angry at his sister.

“Oh don't sulk brother you know that doesn't work on me, the print shop refused to print any more copies of your books in advance, that's how bad it did.” She leaned back in her seat with a smirk, “She invited me to breakfast at Bridgerton house tomorrow, can you take me there?”

Sherlock turned with a nod “I can drop you off and th-” he stopped mid-sentence as an idea struck him, “what did you just say?”

Enola looked at her brother worried that he was too busy to take her “She invited me for breakfast tomorrow and I wish for you to take me there. If you are busy I can take a carriage so no worri-”

“No no before that”

Enola tried to replay the conversation “I told you not to sulk, then that the book you wrote won't get printed in advance any longer”

Sherlock then turned to face away and walked to his desk that was placed in the drawing room and picked up one of the many newspapers that were turned to page 4, turned to the back of the paper and read down the page till he reached what he was looking for.

‘Tibalt's Printing Press

5th Northumberland street

London’

Sherlock smiled looking down at the paper, “Of course, Minnie always ends up in the kitchen when she's hungry.”

Enolas eyes turn the the left as she racks her brain trying to think what in the world her brother is going on about, “pardon?”

She watched as her brother scribbled some writing on a piece of paper before marching to his pin board on the wall and sticking a pin through the newspaper set on the last page. He stepped back with a smile, Enola stood up from her seat and walked to her brother's side.

“Sherlock, is everything alright?”

The brother looked at her and nodded “It's perfect, all back on track thanks to your friend,” Enola raised an eyebrow.

“Y/n? How did she help? Wait where are you going this late?” She watched as her brother picked up his coat and the paper he scribbled on. He walked up to her and gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

“Don't worry dear sister, assuming all goes to plan I'll be back in time to take you to break your fast with the Bridgertons, sleep well!” And with that, he walked out of the flat door closing it behind him leaving Enola alone in the drawing room.

With a sigh she blew out the remaining candle that illuminated the room, her eyes stopped at the violin that stood defenceless in the room. A smirk found its way on her face as she looked back at the door making sure her brother wouldn't be back.

………….

THE CANDLE BURNED LIGHTING ONE corner of y/n's bed-chamber, her eyes fled over words on the page of the book she was reading, a new author writing under the title ‘A Lady’ had written a book named ‘Pride and Prejudice’, y/n was completely infatuated with the idea that the author had so boldly revealed that whoever she was, she was a woman.

Unlike Lady Whistledown, this writer resorted to writing harmless fiction that was incredible to read, and unlike y/n she was courageous enough to reveal she was a female, and yet it was a complete shame in y/n's eyes to see that the books didn't do as well as she thought it deserved.

She pulled her knees to her chest as she relaxed against the window, sitting on the window seat to be able to look outside easily. It had become her routine to sit at the window every night, therefore to anyone else seeing her wouldn't warrant any suspicion, but y/n wouldn't sleep until something in the scenery outside her window changed.

She just about turns to a new page when from the corner of her eye she sees a light flickering outside her window facing the garden, turning to look outside, she sees the figure of the personal valet of Anthony walking in the garden with a candlelit lantern, stopping mid-walk he turns to her window direction and then blows out his candle.

Y/n gave a smile and blew out her own candle, drowning out the last shred of light in her room, and stood up from her seat, shutting the book and placed it on her dresser. And with that, the valet walked back into the house leaving the girl to go to sleep peacefully.

…….

THE CARRIAGE WHEELS STOPPED IN FRONT OF THE printing shop letting Sherlock step out before paying the driver. The windows were illuminated by the candles inside the print shop, he watched as two men worked on the printing of the weekly newspaper.

Sherlock walked over to the door of the print shop and tried to push it open only to find it was locked closed, however, the attempt to open it had gained him the attention of the two men who looked at each other before turning to Sherlock.

The older one of the two motioned to the younger man to go deal with him as he went back to work. The younger man rolled his eye as he walked to the door and unlocked it before stepping out to stand face to face with the detective, “You know we don't get many people coming here that don't know how to read, this being a print shop and all”

Sherlock stared blankly, the man then pointed at the sign hanging in the window “It says closed, there I read it for you, come back in the morning” he then walked back inside but as he went to shut the door Sherlock stopped it with his foot causing the man to turn back to him.

“I'm here to find out about Marcus Bradford!”

The man tried to push Sherlock back “If you're a fan then you have no luck here, we only print what we get given.” managing to push Sherlock's foot out he went to slam the door only to once again get stopped but this time by his hand. Once the door was open again then holmes pulled his hand back in pain, shaking it to relieve the soreness.

“I'm a detective, I just have a few questions regarding Mr Bradford and I'll be on my way.”

The printshop employee scratched his chin before motioning for Holmes to follow him inside, he took him to the older man who had previously sent him to deal with the problem.

“Theo? I thought I told you to deal with it” the old man spoke, Theo, however, sighed “yeah well he's a detective, won't leave”

The old man's hands stopped working on the press as he turned to meet Sherlock Holmes’ eye, “Aye, yes I recognise you, you're that Holmes guy, to what do I owe the honour?”

Theo spoke up before Sherlock could “he says he's looking for Bradford, Mr Tibalt.”

“You a fan Mr. Holmes?” Tibalt spoke, prompting Sherlock to glare in his direction.

“I assure you quite the contrary, I have been just tasked with looking into him and his background” Sherlock made sure to walk up to the elder man and stand about a foot away from him, standing taller than him he was trying to add an intimidation factor “I would appreciate your cooperation”

Tibalt stood staring at Sherlock for a good 10 seconds before speaking “I'm not sure if I can actually be of help, I haven't met the man, and neither has Theo, he doesn't deliver the stories himself”

“Then who does?”

“It really depends.”

“On?”

“4 men rotate in delivering the story every week, each one wears a mask so I don't see their faces. They don't say a word, all I get is the story and a letter with instructions on what to do along with the payment.”

Dead end.

“And when was the last time one of the men?” Sherlock asked.

“About an hour before you graced us with your own presence. He'd be long gone. All I can tell you is I have never met mr Bradford or had any personal contact with him.”

Sherlock nodded in thought, his only chance of unveiling Mr. Bradford had quite literally beat him to the chase. Tibalt turned and faced away from Sherlock grabbing a freshly printed newspaper copy, “I can't help you much about Bradford but I can tell you this” he handed Sherlock the new concept that was due for release in the morning, “Something has changed, he's introducing new characters in the midst of the story, and it's clear that this chapter has shifted it all to focus on this character. I assumed it would interest you seeing as for the past couple of copies he had been facing what I assume is a dry spell of ideas”

Sherlock looked at Tibalt before opening the paper to page 4, his eyes skimmed over the paper and suddenly stopped in his tracks, “Detective Sherrinford?” He looked up to the print shopkeeper who shrugged his shoulders and turned to get back to printing the rest of the papers.

Understanding that he most likely wouldn't be able to get more information, he left his address and told them to let him know if there were any updates, then thanked them and left to go home.

……..

LONDON WAS BUSTLING THAT MORNING, the weekly paper distribution brought by an onslaught of arguments and opinions about the new chapter in the story. The introduction of the character Detective Sherrinford had brought about mixed feelings.

Some believed that Bradford was losing his touch and was doing what he could to keep the story going, others believed that this was just a long-winded way of Marcus telling them that the real story was about to begin, especially with the way he ended off this week's chapter.

“The game is afoot?” Enola put down the newspaper against her lap, she looked towards Sherlock who sat across from her in the carriage on the way to the Bridgertons. He shrugged his shoulders as he moved the curtains to gauge how far along they were until the house, “A change I presume, seems Marcus Bradford has decided to take the story in a different direction” he replied, there was a tinge of frustration in his voice.

The carriage stopped in front of the Bridgerton house and Sherlock stepped out before helping Enola out next, the footman took them into the house where they were allowed into the drawing room where Anthony, Benedict, Eloise, Gregory and Violet sat.

Anthony being the first to see them stood up in surprise when he saw the Holmes sibling there, “Lord Holmes what a pleasant surprise this morning” he stood up and walked to them and shook their hands before inviting them further into the drawing room in the direction of his family, “this is my mother.” Violet stood from her seat with a smile, as Sherlock took her hand and placed a light kiss on it, then Anthony introduced the rest of his siblings in the room before turning to Sherlock “To what do I owe this fine visit to Holmes?”

“I invited Enola for breakfast brother” y/n who had just walked into the room spoke as she approached the group. Sherlock watched as she and Enola hugged, then as she turned to him and shook his hand, “Good morning Lord Holmes, it's very nice to see you again”

“Likewise Miss Bridgerton” he nodded to her. “I presume you have read the new chapter out today lord holmes, He added a new character what was his name” y/n put her hand the her chin as she pretended to have forgotten the name which Sherlock could of course detect however decided not to call her out on her actions and played along “detective Sherrinford i presume is the name you are trying to remember miss Bridgerton”

“Ahh yes, you are quite right lord holmes, I'm quite forgetful when it comes to these things” she lied jokingly as she spoke, making a small smile play on Sherlock's own lips.

“It's a shame seeing as the author has now added this character, who is a recluse detective who will possibly that forever to solve a case with already many plotholes, the only way the story can go is down.”

y/ns smile fell for a second but she made sure to replace it quickly enough to not be noticeable, “I don't know, I have come to take quite the liking to Detective Sherrinford, I think he will do great to solve this case, I think this story is getting better” she spoke with a smile.

As Sherlock and y/n spoke no one really paid any mind to them. Anthony and Benedict were busy talking, Enola had struck up a conversation with Eloise and Gregory was reading the story in the paper, and no one was paying them any mind…

But violet, she could see it.

Her daughter never took the time to talk to a man for this long about anything, not even about books or stories there was something there. And she was adamant about helping it grow.

“I don't know lord holmes, I would have thought you’d like the character, I think Sherrinford is exactly like you.” y/n’s words caused Enola and Eloise to look towards them in shock, “y/n! You are completely right, how could I not make that connection earlier myself “Enola spoke as she walked to the pair quickly.

“What are you two on about, the man is nothing like me”

And there stood the three arguing about why Sherrinford is or isn't like Sherlock until inevitably, a maid walked into the drawing room and called out that breakfast was ready.

“I guess this means I should take my leave not, Enola ill pick you up in 3 hours” Just as Sherlock was speaking about leaving, Violet interrupted his farewells “Lord Holmes please do join us for breakfast”

Sherlock just about shook his head and was about to decline before Violet spoke again “I had the cook prepare extra just for you” and with that, he couldn't refuse, no matter how much he wanted to.

….

The family and the Holmes siblings filtered into the dining area, Enola and y/n sat next to each other, and just about when Gregory was about to sit next to y/n on her other side, his mother motioned for him to sit elsewhere leaving Sherlock no other seat but that one, not that it really bothered him.

The families started eating and exchanging conversation, the atmosphere was delightful, and Enola was aglow, it had been a long while since she sat down for breakfast with a family seeing as usually she and Sherlock wake up at different times and end up eating anything.

“Lord Sherlock, it really is a pleasure having you and your sister here, I must say I'm surprised I havent seen you in the ton more often, no soirees nor balls” Violet spoke as she cut another piece of the omelette in her plate. Sherlock swallowed the food in his mouth before nodding to Violet “That is indeed true viscountess Bridgerton, I simply haven't found the time to integrate into society, there's too much work and research and clients. In fact it is my fault Enola has yet to debut, I had been meaning to help her this season however i got sidetracked.”

Violet nodded her face full of sympathy towards the two siblings, it was a known fact around the ton that the Holmes family had lost not one but both parents in the same year, their father had been taken ill for months before suffering through an unfortunately painful exit and their mother had been so in love with him and followed him mere months after due to a broken heart.

Since then little has been known about the Holmes family, they had become reclusive and barely interacted with the rest of the ton. Sherlock and Enola, who were 9 and 2 at the time, were put under the care and sanction of their older brother Viscount Mycroft who himself was 15. It was like the Holmeses ceased to exist any longer, that was until a few years ago when Viscount Mycroft got married and Sherlock moved out to a flat in Central London, it was widely believed that Sherlock found the Viscount Holmes’ new wife to be unappealing to share a mansion with, sooner or later in a visit back home he decided he would take his younger sister to live with him.

“Well better late than never I say” Violet spoke softly with a smile targeted at Sherlock. Her eyes flicker to y/n who was eating her food quietly while listening to the conversation then back to Sherlock. “you know, there is a soiree tomorrow night at the Dunphrees,”

Anthony stared at his mother in shock understanding what she was doing “Mother!”

Violet of course ignored him knowing Anthony really is only good for ruining her plans. “We shall be attending, I say you should come”

Enola looked up from her plate excited “Oh can we brother, it sounds like so much fun” y/n snorted quickly while holding back a laugh. Sherlock glanced at her before looking to his sister whose eyes was practically begging him, “ Enola you don't had a dress for the occasion and I doubt one can be made in time”

Y/n smirked as she looked at him, “That is no worry at all lord holmes i have 4 daughters surely I have a couple of dresses to spare that will be her size.” Violet interjected. y/n and Enola looked at each other excitedly, Sherlock's lips pressed together in a semi-frustrated smile before looking at his sister and y/n. Enola looked very excited as she shared a hug with y/n, and for a moment his eyes lingered on the Bridgerton girl, he was thankful for her existence in his sister's life, she was in fact a very interesting person to talk to, and maybe having her around would make him feel less guilty over not always being there for his sister. The said Bridgerton girl turned to face Sherlock awaiting his decision, only to be met with his own eyes looking at her, he quickly looked away while clearing his throat embarrassed at having been caught staring at her, but this action did not elude Violet’s eyee, she smiled softly at the bashfulness of sherlock.

With a sigh, he nodded albeit quite a bit reluctantly but part of him knew that Enola needed this, and in fact he needed a break, so maybe he needed this too. “I don't see why not, God knows we require a chance for respite.” Enola gleamed at the thought of attending her first soiree tomorrow.

The families continued their breakfast and their endless conversations, many topics including the breach of secrecy of Anthony and Sherlock Oxford days, they even told stories of the Duke of Hastings from their days living together. Enola revealed quite a bit of her childhood activities, and the two siblings shared their distaste for their sister in law, hyacinth chatted about how their elder sister Daphne would have almost been married to the prince of Prussia had it not been for her love for the duke, this conversation managed to segway into Eloise talking about Lady Whistledown and who she may be.

“Speaking of hidden writers,” y/n spoke as she turned to look at Sherlock “How has your hunt for Mr Bradford lord homles, someone of your calibre must have reached some conclusion.”

Sherlock nearly choked on the tea he was drinking, everyone at the table went quiet actually quite curious about his findings. “Lord Sherlock you found Mr. Marcus Bradford?” Gregory exclaimed, having been quite a fan of the writer's weekly updates.

Wiping his mouth with a handkerchief the detective shook his head “I'm afraid I'm still looking, he has proven to be quite a difficult man to find. I went to the printing shop that prints and distributes the weekly paper, unfortunately, they have no clue who he is either, seems he doesn't deliver the chapters himself for all I know he is on the other side of England.”

y/n’s eyes moved to the side in thought as everyone sighed in frustration expressing their disappointment in the possibility of not knowing the writer behind the book.

“Well that would make no sense” y/n spoke up causing all eyes to move to her.

“It makes perfect sense miss Bridgerton, there are other places in England a man can live other than Mayfair” Sherlock spoke sarcastically, confused as to why y/n would find such a simple ordeal strange, his words caused both Anthony and Benedict to chuckle.

y/n glared at her brothers then directed her glare to Sherlock “Laugh all you want men, I have a point to make. Tell me Lord Holmes why would a man on the other side of England write a story only for it to be published in Mayfair only? Surely he wants to see the fruits of his labour in person, even if he doesn't take the credit for it.”

“What makes you so sure that the man only has it published in Mayfair and not all over England?” Sherlock spoke, now completely serious, of course, he was quite upset that a point like this could have fled his mind. He had been too busy looking for the man himself when the actual paper held most of the clues he would need anyway. He thought it would be best to listen to y/n seeing as it was her words that triggered him to find the first clue in the first place.

Something told him that she knew much more than she let on about this case.

“Simple. We receive two different newspapers per week, one is the English paper, and the other is the Mayfair weekly paper, and yet the story only appears in the Mayfair weekly. That means your elusive writer is either an idiot-” Violet scolded her daughter for her use of an insult, however y/n brushed it off with an apologetic look aimed at her, before facing Sherlock again “-and is sending a copy of his writing to every separate town and city in England rather than just placing it in the English paper that goes all over England, or he is walking among us here in Mayfair”

The two stared eye to eye for a good 10 seconds in silence that even Colin had to clear his throat to almost ease the tension. Sherlock was the first to speak, “Well deduced Miss Bridgerton, you seemed to have caught on to a point I seemed to have missed” he smirked, “This is the second time, one more time and I may just have to engage you.” y/n’s smile dropped at his words and her face heated up as violet and Enola let out a quiet gasp. Sherlock cleared up his throat and quickly went to fix his wording.

“Engage you in other cases i mean, sometimes I could use an outsider's eye on the matter” he spoke while avoiding y/n’s eyes, his fingers tracing the rim of the teacup in his hands. y/n was in a similar situation but had a small smile that danced on her lips.

“Holmes doesn't jest” y/ns smiled as her eyes shot up to look at Anthony who had made a habit of ruining the moment “Y/n is a young lady and shouldn’t really be exposed to some of the cases you deal with, don't you agree” she glared at him. “And what of it brother? What does my being a lady have to do with a case? It’s not like crime stops when I walk in the room just because I'm a lady.” she spoke while rolling her eyes, she knew her brother meant well but sometimes he was overbearing.

“y/n-”

“Actually viscount Bridgerton, I completely understand your argument” Sherlock's words caused y/n to look at him disappointed “However as Miss Bridgerton has worded it wonderfully, crime doesn't stop because the fairer sex exists. I truly believe there is no such thing as protecting them from the truth, only hiding the truth. I think Miss Bridgerton would benefit from being challenged by a few questions, no need to see a crime scene herself. I do this with Enola all the time, and she doesn't seem to mind at all.”

Enola quickly nodded at her brother's words in agreement “It's true Lord Bridgerton, it’s quite fun, like solving puzzles, it keeps me occupied and gives me the ability to spend time with Sherlock.”

Violet interjected before Anthony could speak again,” These are quite bold ideas you share lord holmes, not many men would agree with you.”

“And not many women too” Eloise muttered with an eye roll.

But Sherlock kept his resolve and looked to y/n and his sister before looking back to Violet, “Well viscountess Bridgeton, I am quite a fanatic of what many may call strange ideals. I believe that a day will come, when a war will break out,” the whole table gasped in shock at his words, “one half of the human race against the other, the invisible army always standing by the men's shoulder, there has to come a day where us men stand back and view women as equals who deserve respect and demand to be heard”

“I think it's a wonderful idea lord holmes, you letting y/n help out in your cases that is.” Violet broke the silence as she clasped her two hands together, she met eyes with y/n who smiled at her, she smiled back and gave her daughter a wink.

If he were to be the man her daughter would love, then she would rather back her up than be against her and cause her daughter to abstain from the thought of love or marriage in general.

Gregory sat up excitedly “Lord Holmes! When you do find Mr. Bradford do you think you can get him to sign a copy of his books for me?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow with a smile at the excitement in his voice “Thats IF, but I don't see why not”

“No, it’s WHEN, Lord Holmes, I’m sure you are much closer to the man than you think” y/n spoke while motioning to Anthony valet to fetch her more tea with a smile. Sherlock looked at the teacup in y/n’s hands in confusion “I’m not sure im any closer to finding him, no one in the ton knows him”

The valet held the teacup as he poured tea for y/n as she spoke “Who says Marcus Bradford is the writer's real name?” it was like clockwork, Sherlock looked at y/n as she spoke, and the teacup slipped out of the valet's hands dropping some of the contents of the cup straight into y/ns lap. Sherlock quickly grabbed a tablecloth from in front of him and started dabbing the tea on her lap, them action caused her eyes to widen and for her to stand up quickly and move away, Anthony and Benedict stood up, both rushing to their sister, countless apologies were spewed from the valet's mouth. It was actually quite chaotic.

“It’s fine, I'm fine” y/n spoke with a nervous smile. “ one of the downsides of being a girl is wearing many layers, though I suppose in this case it is an upside” she let out a giggle while looking at everyone, her eyes moved to the valet who was still apologising “no harm no foul Hudson, I'm fine”

“I may have to get changed though, Enola,” she turned to face her friend, “Why don't you join me, we can look for a dress for you to wear for tomorrow's soiree”

The younger Holmes got up with a smile and joined her as the two rushed off to y/n’s room.

Everyone returned to their seats and slowly continued on with their conversation, however, Sherlock felt uneasy now in his seat, looking up in front of him his eyes met with Anthony’s eyes, who almost seemed to be glaring back at him. The eldest Bridgerton brother hadn't missed how Sherlock reacted to the tea dropped on his sister, he wanted to diminish any feelings that may be growing from y/n towards Holmes as fast as possible, to him Sherlock wasn't right for his sister.

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AN: First of all I am absolutely blown away by the number of likes and requests for tags I have gotten, I love you all, literally thought this story was going to flop. I'm sorry it took a while for the second chapter to come out hopefully next chapter won't take as long. TRULY LIKE WOW.

This chapter has so many easter eggs feel free to let me know which ones you found out through my ask box or comments, and if there is smth you would like me to add in any upcoming chapters let me know too<3

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I do not own Bridgerton

I do not own Sherlock or Enola Holmes

and I most certainly don't own the abominable bride story

I do not own Sherrinford

they belong to their rightful owners

I only own the fic idea.

#bridgerton #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #enola holmes #enola and sherlock #bridgerton reader #bridgerton x reader #sherlock holmes fanfiction #crossover #fanfic #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock #imagine #bridgerton x enola holmes #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x female reader

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rsventhesecondd · 8 months ago

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↖︎ featuring itoshi sae + itoshi rin ┆best in mobile

sypnosis . whereas— you're blood related to two famous football players world wide. In other words, siblings. 01 ◠ next – masterlist

You sat down on your chair, opening an old cardboard box filled with medals and old trophies.

Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary, just football trophies, and.. an old photo book.

You flipped through the pages of it, remembering those fond moments of you and your siblings, unbeknownst to yourself that you were smiling as a burst of memories flood in. Although the memories that came with the rest of the pictures are rather a hazy blur, you stumbled upon the last photo of the book as you flipped through the pages.

It was a photo of you three together.

An actual photo that atleast looked presentable.

Well, aside from that really big smile you have and the two of your brothers in a frown— you'd say this is the most presentable one yet. Your smile grows, replaying the clear memory of that moment, one that you promised to yourself you'd never forget.

You were on the 3rd grade, same as Rin, while Sae was on the 5th. It was the junior championships, second phase of the sports festival. You were ecstatic, after all what proud sister wouldn't? You watched as Sae swiftly passing the ball to Rin, followed by Sae precisely kicking the ball towards the Goal— finishing the game.

" Smile for the picture ! " the camera man said.

Sae is in the middle of his team holding a trophy, with a face that says 'It's only natural to win' , and a bored look. Next to him was you smiling, proud. And to the other side, he notices Rin, with a noticable frown. He goes in thought for a moment, then handing Rin his trophy while looking away, slightly embarrassed since he wasn't used to showing affection so openly to his brother, or anyone really. And finally, the photo was taken. Rin on the other hand, was still mesmerized by the trophy, it being the first one he's ever held. You notice their small interaction and couldn't help but give a grin. You know that Sae wasn't the type to show such affection, given the tall walls he put up at such young age. Sometimes, you even wonder if he considers you and rin siblings or just, some distant relative that is blood related. But that one small moment was just enough reassurance that what you have put countless thoughts on was fortunately wrong.

You look at the photo, still fresh. Bowing to never forget this moment.

"If I win, our dreams over" Sae states, his feet hovering over the ball. "I.. I don't want to" Rin mutters out, "I don't want to play a game like this."

"You Ready Rin?" he says, in that same blank tone. "This is a one shot match."

"Why?.."

"Rin, in the four years I was away from here..."

" What have you been doing? "

along with the fond memory of a moment that you vow will never disappear, another comes along, one you'll never forget, the day Sae left.

There you were, watching them as you dropped the small stuff toy Sae has given you for your 12th birthday. You wanted to say something, get in the middle of this, stop this. But somehow, something was stopping you, you wanted go, but at the moment, your instinct told you that this wasn't the right moment. This was their moment.

Sae was walking towards the airport, until you come rushing to him– trying to stop him. Not atleast without an actual conversation.

"Sae, please.. don't leave. Don't leave us." You plead, tears running down eyes.

Sae stops, not even turning around. " Maybe you see me as someone special to you." he says, in that same blank tone. "But to me," his breath hitches ever so slightly. It's almost unnoticeable, but you know. "You're just an eyesore of an annoying little sister."

" You don't mean that." you say, letting out a sniffle. "We're siblings. You don't.. mean that." you say, trying to holding back more tears.

"Don't be so full of yourself just by being born as my sister. If you can't play football, you're not worth anything at all." , he says "You're not necessary in my life anymore"

"Get lost, [name]" his final words before leaving.

note . yes, some of these happened cannonly . Omf I accidentally deleted this post, so I had to rewrite a bunch of stuff. But hey, atleast I got it done! anyways, I got the translations from netflix, + here's where I got inspo from

upd : hi, i've recently noticed I havent made a masterlist for this since this was my first ff.. so i made one and changed the fonts a bit !!

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ghostchems · 8 months ago

Text

infernal - terzo x f!reader - part seven

and now... a flashback chapter

art by the always amazing @piaart

author’s note: i feel like shit but it helped me finish this up. plenty of terzo pain here meanwhile reader is home, blissfully unaware. i also have no idea if my writing is good at this point but here ya go! part one/two/three/four/five/six. ao3 link.

If you could see the wreck I am these days, you’d have new reasons to stay away. Just hold my hand for a little while —

Misery never goes out of style.

Terzo traces a delicate finger along one of the bags under his eyes, no longer concealed by the dark eye paint he once wore. His brows furrow at the sight of himself in the mirror. The wrinkles have deepened since he left the stage. His hair, now less lustrous, betrays gray strands emerging from his roots and sideburns. All those years spent cultivating his image, trying to become the perfect imperfection that Lucifer himself boasted—only to unravel after one fateful show. He grits his teeth, his mismatched eyes sharpening in his reflection.

With all the glitz stripped away, he loathes how much he now resembles his father…

Terzo forces the thought out of his head. His days are spent analyzing his time as Papa and what went wrong. He wouldn’t do anything differently but it still stung, especially after the new heights and exposure he had achieved for the Ministry. Somehow, it was not enough. His father was never proud of him, a theme that stretched throughout his entire life. Terzo was only ever the Third to him, the third son that would serve his purpose and then be pushed aside for whoever was next. While this had been the typical progression, Terzo was the fool who thought he would be different — even after being warned by Secondo.

Secondo.

“Cazzo.”

He’s late for Uno Night.

The once-revered Emeritus brothers now find themselves relegated to a desolate corner of the abbey with their only entertainment being a silly card game. Their influence wanes with each passing day. Terzo can't help but sneer at the irony of their situation - former leaders now barely more than forgotten relics, with only each other’s company. There was a time when the Emeritus brothers were revered as gods among men. Crowds would surge forward at their concerts, desperate to touch the hem of their robes or catch a glimpse of their painted faces. Devotees would line up for hours, sometimes days, just for the chance to receive a blessing or a fleeting moment of attention. Their every word was treated as gospel, their gestures analyzed and imitated by legions of faithful followers.

In the halls of the Ministry, their presence commanded instant respect and adoration. Ghouls and Siblings of Sin alike would bow their heads in reverence as they passed. Their chambers were filled with lavish gifts from admirers - exotic incense, priceless artifacts, and fervent love letters. The very air seemed to crackle with power and dark allure whenever they entered a room. Now, that electric atmosphere has faded to a dull static. The gifts have stopped coming, the adoring crowds have moved on to newer, shinier idols. The once-mighty Emeritus brothers find themselves grasping at the fading light of their former glory, clinging to memories of a time when they were worshipped as the embodiments of their infernal master.

He used to delicately paint his face for each meeting, a ritual of devotion to himself and his roll as Papa. But now, as he stares at his bare face, he feels a bitter resentment towards the being he once revered. The paint feels like a mask of lies, concealing the growing doubts and anger festering within him. Lucifer's promises of power and glory now ring hollow in his ears, leaving only the taste of ash and disappointment. Terzo exhales through his nose and tears himself away from the mirror, satisfied with his appearance but frustrated with the progression of his thoughts. He had grown more disillusioned by the day with the cause he so passionately promoted, the being he worshipped. Lucifer, once his guiding light, now seemed like a cruel puppeteer, manipulating him for some cosmic joke.

Omega did not like these thoughts. In fact, Terzo has begun avoiding him and instead has been seeking the company of his brothers. Perhaps the one silver lining in all of this is that he is closer than he ever has been with his true family, minus daddy dearest, of course. They had grown up together, with Primo practically raising him and Secondo after they had come to the ministry. Back then he was a true zealot - a satanic lunatic whose fervor for the dark arts knew no bounds. It was from him that Terzo learned the intricacies of their infernal faith, absorbing every ritual and incantation with wide-eyed fascination. Yet, somehow, both Terzo and Secondo emerged less fanatical than their older brother.

But still competitors, nonetheless. Secondo and Terzo had been born to different mothers three months apart so it came naturally. The more time spent together now, the more they realize how similar they can be and deep down, Terzo wishes they had not been so combative. It was encouraged, though, fed and grown by the higher ups in the ministry and their father. Maybe they feared they would be too powerful if they were close.

Now all they care about is Uno.

"Fuck!" Terzo exclaims again, his voice tinged with frustration as he runs a hand tiredly over his face. The weight of his thoughts bears down on him, but he knows he can't afford to dwell any longer. With a deep sigh, he forces himself into action, slipping his feet into his shoes - the familiar spats clicking as he gets them on. Just as he reaches for the door handle, a sharp knock echoes through the room. Terzo pauses, his hand hovering in mid-air. Irritation flashes across his face.

"Enter," he calls out, his voice tinged with impatience.

The door creaks open, revealing a young Sibling of Sin. Their face is pale, eyes wide with fear and urgency. Terzo's irritation gives way to curiosity as he takes in their disheveled appearance.

"What is it?" he asks, his tone softening slightly.

The Sibling swallows hard before speaking, their voice trembling. "Papa, I... I have news. It's about Omega."

Terzo's eyebrows furrow. "Omega? What about him?" He nonchalantly goes back to adjusting his outfit, wondering if this is another plot from the ghoul to try and make him listen to “reason”. He certainly has stooped rather low, almost as low as Terzo.

The Sibling takes a deep breath, as if steeling themselves for what they're about to say. "He's been banished, Papa. Omega has been cast out of the Ministry."

The words hit Terzo like a physical blow. He stumbles back a step, his mind reeling. "Banished?" he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. "But... how? Why?" Pain is etched across his face.

The Sibling shakes their head, clearly as confused and shaken as Terzo. "I don't know the details, Papa. It happened so suddenly. They're saying it came from the highest levels of the Ministry."

Terzo's mind races, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Shock, confusion, and a sudden, unexpected pang of loss all vie for dominance. Despite their recent disagreements, Omega had been a constant in his life for so long. The thought of him being gone, cast out... it's almost inconceivable.

Terzo's composure shatters as the weight of the news crashes over him. His eyes flash with unbridled fury, causing the Sibling to take an involuntary step back. "Get out!" he roars, his voice reverberating off the walls. "Leave me! Now!" The Sibling, wide-eyed with fear, scrambles to obey, nearly tripping over their own feet in their haste to escape. Terzo slams the door with such force that the entire room seems to shake, the sound echoing through the corridors like a thunderclap.

As soon as the barrier between him and the outside world is secure, everything crumbles. A primal roar of anguish and frustration tears from his throat, echoing off the walls of his private chambers. In a whirlwind of unbridled emotion, he lashes out at his surroundings. His fist connects with the ornate mirror adorning his vanity, the impact sending a spider web of cracks across its surface before it shatters completely. Shards of glass rain down, glittering in the dim light like fallen stars.

But Terzo's rage demands more destruction. He overturns his meticulously organized desk, unleashing an avalanche of papers, pens, and trinkets onto the floor. Books, once neatly arranged on shelves, are torn free and flung across the room, their pages fluttering like disoriented birds. His wardrobe—a carefully curated collection of robes and suits that once symbolized his power and prestige—falls victim to his fury next. Garments are ripped from hangers and strewn about haphazardly, silk and velvet mingling with the debris below. Spotting one of his Papal robes, an early prototype, he seizes it and tears, splitting seams and fabric into pieces with savage force.

He could kill them. End the reign of his father and Sister Imperator with a knife to their throats, a hammer to their heads. He’s capable and he’s angry.

But that’s not who Terzo is.

His appetite for destruction is as swift as it is thorough. When the storm of his anger finally subsides, Terzo finds himself standing amidst the wreckage of his once-immaculate quarters. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his knuckles having bloodied his gloves from his outburst. The room, previously a testament to his refined tastes and exalted position, now lies in utter ruin around him. He closes his eyes, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as the full weight of what has transpired begins to settle upon him.

The dust settles around him, both literally and figuratively, as his mind wanders to Omega. Their relationship, once the core of his existence within the Ministry, had deteriorated over the past several months, transforming into a strained and tenuous connection. The rift between them had widened, growing into a seemingly unbridgeable gap that threatened to swallow everything they shared whole. Omega, ever faithful of their infernal master, had persistently begged Terzo to embrace what he perceived as a well-deserved retirement—a supposed reward bestowed upon them by Lucifer himself for their years of unwavering service and dedication.

"Papa, you've more than earned this rest," Omega would implore, his eyes blazing with sheer intensity behind his cool mask that Terzo found increasingly difficult to look at. "Our Dark Lord Lucifer, in his infinite wisdom, has granted you this period of rest and reflection. Why do you persist in resisting? Can you not see the honor in this gift he has bestowed upon you?"

But for Terzo, the notion of settling into a life of idle luxury felt suffocating—a gilded cage that threatened to strip away everything he had fought so hard to achieve. The very thought of turning his back on the empire he had painstakingly built, nurtured, and expanded over the years felt like a betrayal of who he is and what defines him. As time wore on, his arguments with Omega grew increasingly heated and frequent, his frustration mounting with each tense exchange, threatening to boil over into hostility.

"You call this rest, Omega?" Terzo would retort, his voice rising with each impassioned word, hands gesticulating wildly to emphasize his point. "This isn't rest—it's nothing short of exile, a banishment from everything I've ever known and loved! How can you, of all people, expect me to sit idly by, content to watch as everything I've dedicated my life to—my very existence—crumbles around me like dust?" The air between them would crackle with tension during these confrontations, an electric charge that made it increasingly difficult for them to occupy the same space without the risk of conflict erupting at any moment.

Now, with the shocking news of Omega's sudden and unexpected banishment reverberating through the chambers of his mind, Terzo finds himself consumed with emotion. Relief, guilt, anger, and a profound sense of loss intertwine in a dizzying dance, each vying for dominance in the turbulent landscape of his mind. Despite their recent differences and the ever-widening divide between them, Omega had been a constant, unwavering presence in Terzo's life for longer than he cared to remember—a touchstone of familiarity. His abrupt absence leaves a gaping void in the fabric of Terzo's existence, a wound so deep and raw that he isn't certain he possesses the means to heal it.

Even with the turmoil raging inside him, Terzo finds himself drawn to the familiar comfort of his brothers' company. With a heavy sigh, he straightens his posture and smooths down his attire, a reflexive gesture from years of public appearances. He may be struggling, but he'll be damned if he lets it show—at least not to them. They have all had their hardships. If anyone knows and understands what he is feeling right now, it is his brothers. Terzo’s steps are heavy, using his feet to clear a path forward amidst everything now on the floor. He reaches the door, hesitating for just a moment. There’s a weight pressing down on him that threatens to crush him, to break him down until there’s nothing left.

He won’t let it.

Terzo opens the door and leaves his room. As he makes his way towards the small room where their Uno nights are held, his mind goes blank, going numb to the intense feelings that are simmering beneath the surface. He trudges down the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing off the ancient stone walls, focusing on that sound to keep him grounded. As he rounds a corner, lost in the maelstrom of his thoughts, a familiar voice catches his attention, causing him to halt abruptly.

Turning, he sees Cardinal Copia emerging from his office, a stack of papers tucked under one arm and an Uno card inexplicably held between two fingers of his free hand. The Cardinal's painted face breaks into a warm smile as he spots Terzo, oblivious to the storm brewing within the former Papa.

"Ah, Papa, on your way to Uno Night, yes?” The cheerful greeting hangs in the air, a stark contrast to the darkness swirling within Terzo.

Terzo's entire body tenses, his jaw clenching so tightly he can hear his teeth grind. The sight of him, so content and oblivious to the turmoil raging through the Ministry, ignites a fire in Terzo's chest—one that he had hoped was extinguished following his outburst in his room. His eyes narrow as he regards Copia with barely contained irritation. "Uno Night," he repeats, his voice low and controlled, though tension radiates from every syllable. "Mmm… yes." He takes a step closer to Copia, his presence suddenly looming and intimidating.

Copia's smile falters slightly, but he presses on, still oblivious and sweet. "It's become quite the tradition with your brothers, hasn't it?" He hesitates for a moment, then reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a blue reverse card. He holds it out to Terzo, a tentative peace offering. "Here, Papa. I always keep this one for luck. Perhaps... perhaps you'd like to have it for tonight's game?"

Terzo's gaze sharpens dangerously as he struggles to maintain his composure. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, fingers digging into his biceps. The sight of that blue card in Copia's hand—a symbol of the carefree life he now leads—causes the fire to spread inside him, consuming him yet again. Terzo’s voice, when he finally speaks, is low and menacing, barely above a whisper.

"Tradition?" His voice is guttural and rough. "You dare speak to me of tradition when everything is crumbling around us? When the very foundations of our world are ripped away from us?" His words are full of anguish and rage, each one striking Copia like a physical blow.

The Cardinal stumbles back, his expression morphing from confusion to outright fear. "P-Papa, I... I don't understand-" he stammers, his voice trembling.

"Of course you don't understand!" Terzo cuts him off, his composure shattering completely. "You're nothing but a pawn, a naive fool dancing to their twisted tune!" He gestures wildly, his movements sharp and erratic. "Do you have any idea what's happening beyond your little bubble of blissful ignorance? Omega is gone! Banished! Cast out like yesterday's trash! And here you stand, grinning like a fool, oblivious to the chaos swirling around you!"

Copia's eyes widen in shock, the full weight of Terzo's words finally sinking in. "Omega? But how- Why-" he begins, but Terzo is far from finished.

Terzo snatches the blue Uno card from Copia's hand, gripping it so hard it begins to crumble in his grip. "And this?" he spits, brandishing it like damning evidence. "You think this changes anything? You think a game can fix what's broken? This card, this... this mockery of what we once were!" His voice rises to a near-scream. "Do you have any idea what this represents? It's not just a game, you fool! It's everything we've lost, everything that's been taken from us!"

With a primal yell that seems to shake the very stones of the corridor, Terzo tears the card to shreds. The pieces flutter between them like confetti, a mockery of celebration in this moment of utter despair. Copia flinches, raising his hands as if to shield himself from the physical manifestation of Terzo's rage.

"P-Papa, please," Copia stammers, his voice barely above a whisper, a plea for understanding, for mercy. "I didn't mean to-"

But Terzo is beyond reason, beyond mercy. His voice drops to a low, dangerous hiss, each word dripping with venom. "Get out of my sight," he commands, his tone brooking no argument. "You don't belong here. You never will. You're nothing but a pale imitation, a cheap replacement for something you could never hope to understand. And take your pathetic games with you!"

As Copia retreats, practically running down the corridor, Terzo stands amidst the scattered remains of the card. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, anger and grief warring within him. In the sudden silence, the weight of his actions begins to settle upon him. He knows, in some distant corner of his mind, that he's overreacted, that Copia isn't truly to blame for the chaos engulfing their world. But in this moment, all he can feel is the crushing weight of loss - of his position, of Omega, of everything he once held dear. And that damned Uno card, now in pieces at his feet, seems to mock him with its cheerful blue color, a stark contrast to the darkness consuming his soul.

If only he could reverse being removed from the Papacy.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Terzo straightens his posture and adjusts his shirt in an attempt to calm himself. He struggles to push down the turmoil within, determined not to let his brothers see his inner struggle. As he approaches the card room, he steels himself, forcing his face into a mask of nonchalance.

Opening the door, he finds his brothers already seated. An almost startling wave of relief washes over him. He allows a scoff to escape his lips at the sight of Primo, face fully painted and wearing a Burberry scarf. Before he can comment, Secondo interjects.

"Already gave him trouble for it, stronzino. If you'd been on time, you could've joined." There's a glint of mischief in Secondo's eyes.

Terzo rolls his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his best efforts to maintain his aloof facade. He saunters over to the table, pulling up a chair with dramatic flair. "Well, shall we begin? I'm feeling particularly lucky tonight." He shoots a pointed look at Secondo, silently accepting the challenge in his brother's gaze.

He settles into his seat and the feeling of relief continues to spread through him. Here, surrounded by his brothers and the familiar rhythm of an extremely low-stakes card game, he can momentarily push aside his anger and frustration. In this room, he's not the fallen Papa or a disappointment to the Ministry - he's simply Terzo, the youngest of the Emeritus brothers, ready to lose himself in the game and forget, if only for a while, how far he has fallen.

On this particular evening, Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil would make an unexpected appearance, delivering news that would leave the brothers startled and confused.

They would be unable to continue their card game.

Terzo is deep in his desk chair, his body nearly slipped from it onto the floor. His gaze is locked on the the hell phone which has been ringing nonstop since you left for the night. Your taste is still on his tongue, your scent clinging to his robe. He’s afraid to move to disturb the haze he’s settled into, even though you would be back bright and early for work the morning after next. Fingers fall to his temples, rubbing them with each piercing ring of the phone.

He wouldn’t answer. He doesn’t want to face who is on the other line.

Was it Omega? What could he possibly say? He would only complicate matters—as he already has. The hell phone materialized before you, and you listened to the sounds of the abyss. It drove you into Terzo's arms and bed, but... you didn't deserve to experience such terrors or feel so frightened in his home. Or at least, if anyone was going to frighten you it should be him. His fingers drum along the arms of the chair, a deep grumble vibrating from his chest. The goal is to get you to stay, to devote yourself to him and only him. Yet the fear gnaws at him. What if the terrors you've witnessed push you away? The thought of losing you to the very darkness he once revered sends a chill through him. He wants you by his side, but you have to want to be there. Perhaps, he muses bitterly, this is another of Lucifer's cruel jokes—dangling happiness before him, only to threaten it with the very forces he once embraced.

Maybe the imp who fixed your tire that Terzo had shredded was calling. What was that all about? He didn’t have time to mull that incident over earlier while you were here. Is he manifesting things?

The memory of when he had accidentally shocked you resurfaces, Terzo's frown deepens. He recalls the pain on your face when he zapped your wrist. His gaze drifts to his hands, studying them as if they belong to a stranger. These hands that once commanded crowds, that channeled unholy energies with precision and purpose, now feel like unpredictable weapons. He clenches his fists, feeling the familiar tingle of power just beneath his skin. What if he hurts you again?

Another memory flits to the forefront of his mind — when he screamed at you over his relics being displayed causing a lightbulb to shatter. He remembers the fear in your eyes as it happened. It wasn't Lucifer's doing—it was his own power, his own lack of control. The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. Perhaps the true threat to your happiness, to any chance of a future together, isn't some external force or cosmic joke. It's him.

The silver lining is that you had seemed to be… into it. But what if next time, it's worse than a small shock or a broken bulb?

The thought sends a wave of despair crashing over him. Is he doomed to be alone, forever isolated by the very gifts that once made him special? The irony isn't lost on him—he who once reveled in his dark powers, who used them to seduce and enthrall, now fears them as the very thing that might drive you away. Terzo slumps further in his chair. The illusion of his perfection continues to fade but he’s stubborn. Unwilling to change his ways even though he knows he can be cruel and difficult.

He originally expected you to just deal with it.

Terzo rises with a frustrated growl, letting the hell phone continue its incessant ringing. He stalks over to his liquor cabinet, hands trembling slightly as he pours himself a generous measure of whiskey. What have you done to him? How dare you make him want to be better? He decides he must, at the very least, attempt to protect you from whatever hell seemingly has in store for you. This includes tempering his emotions, an obvious factor of his otherworldly abilities. Seriously, how dare you?

Taking a long swig, he savors the burn as it slides down his throat. It's a familiar comfort, one that does little to reduce the budding anxiety he feels. With a heavy sigh, he turns his back on the still-ringing phone and retreats to his bedroom, drink in hand. The door closes behind him, muffling the sound of the hell phone but he can still feel its presence. Terzo takes another sip, hoping to drink himself into unconsciousness.

Only two sleeps until he sees you again.

#terzo #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus x reader #ghost fanfic #ghost band fanfic #ghost fanfiction

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sulumuns-dootah · 1 year ago

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WHB Kings meeting their Obey Me! counterparts

A/N: I try to not pit/compare these two games against each other, but as someone who was into Obey Me! (and still is) and found out about WHB thanks to it, i need to get this out of my system.

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

The scenario is that OM!Solomon messed up some spell and made Obey Me! and What in Hell is bad? universes interconnect and our demon kings get to meet their other version. (I only included those kings that we've already met in WHB - when we get Belphie and Asmo, I might make part 2)

༺☆༻

Lucifer

Their meeting is the calmest and most civilised out of all of them.

They don't really talk outside of formal greeting and some polite small talk

Oh, but on the inside? OM!Lucifer is internally appalled by the amount of skin that's WHB!Lucifer showing

WHB!Lucifer is really wondering who this Diavolo guy is, since OM!Lucifer managed to mention him in their little small talk about ten times

OM!Lucifer excuses himself after some time to go make sure his brothers don't do anything stupid while meeting their counterpart

༺☆༻

Mammon

Oh no

This can go in two ways: OM!Mammon's ego gets absolutely crushed (there seems to be a pattern with WHB!Mammon) and just doesn't talk at all, just moping around while trying to look intimidating or he tries to get some treasures off WHB!Mammon since they're technically the same guy and he can definitely trust that he won't sell it to repay his debts

In the second case OM!Lucifer storms in and stops any of his attempts

That entertains WHB!Mammon though, and so he does give OM!Mammon some worthless (read: expensive, but not that rare) treasures

That lights up OM!Mammon's eyes and he doesn't shut up about it for the next century

༺☆༻

Leviathan

Well this goes even worse than the Mammons meeting

OM!Leviathan tries to keep his composure, but fails

The envy is strong in this one and some Lovecraftian horrors might get summoned

OM!Leviathan now has more reasons to put himself down, good luck OM!MC with this one

WHB!Leviathan has a hard time believing that that's him from different universe. What went wrong?

But it does make him feel better. He was worried that this other Leviathan would look better than him and beat him at one of the things he's best at

If OM!Lucifer manages to calm OM!Leviathan, they might be able to bond over their use of bathtubs, but no promises

༺☆༻

Beelzebub

WHB!Beelzebub expected a lot, but not this

He's not horny? He just loves to eat food so much he even eats inedible objects like pillars of buildings?

Though, he does now wonder how that tastes

OM!Beelzebub tries to not judge WHB!Beelzebub just based on looks, but can't help himself to see how thin he is. Does he even eat at all?

Also, what are those gemstones and how would they taste?

The huge word 'FEED' on WHB!Beelzebub's coat reminds him that he hasn't eaten in a while

The moment WHB!Beelzebub mentions about his hobby in cooking, OM!Beelzebub is on board and on the way to the nearest kitchen

Interestingly enough, the aphrodisiac effects don't seem to be working on OM!Beelzebub, so he just enjoys the meal, but secretly wishes it was Barbatos' cooking instead

༺☆༻

Satan

'What do you mean Lucifer is your father?'

These two have hard time accepting that they're technically the same demon.

WHB!Satan is disappointed. He expected someone more scary than horned chicken impersonator. What's that boa about? How do you fight angels in that?

OM!Satan tries to stay calm and not loose his temper when WHB!Satan teases his about his clothing. Somehow he manages.

WHB!Satan is surprisingly more talkative than with most demons. They're the same demon after all and therefore they face the same difficulties, no?

OM!Satan is glad to hear that his other self is favored by his people. The pain kink though? He could do without knowing that, really.

༺☆༻

A bonus! ^^

Barbatos

OM!Barbatos is trying to stay as calm and professional as possible, but can't help but wonder what on earth is that noose for

When he finds out it's to show loyalty for his master, he gets calmer

When he finds out that it does actually gets used for hanging, he's back to slight panic mode

WHB!Barbatos doesn't like OM!Barbatos from the beginning. How does one absorb sunlight in so much clothes? No wonder he's so pale and seemingly tired all the time.

All these gloomy colors make him sad. It's almost like this other Barbatos sucked all the color out of the room.

OM!Barbatos is appaled to find out about WHB!Barbatos' interests, but feels intrigued. If the sun ever came up in Devildom, he would try sunbathing, albeit more modestly dressed.

#what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#obey me #obey me shall we date #whb lucifer #obey me lucifer #whb mammon #obey me mammon #whb leviathan #obey me leviathan #whb beelzebub #obey me beelzebub #whb satan #obey me satan #whb barbatos #obey me barbatos

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astuteology · 2 years ago

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Some more observo🫶🏻

If a SCORPIO starts liking you, he/she will ask for your pictures. Not "those" pictures. Your bare faced one. Ik that's kinda scary. But they love anything raw and bare. 🥹🫶🏻

Speaking of scorpios, DO NOT under any circumstances, LIE TO THEM. Please🛐. They'll know it. And if you happen to like a scorpio, and you show them your best, show them what YOU think they'll like, No don't do it. BE RAW, BE REAL, TAKE YOUR STAND IF SOMEONE HUMILIATES YOU, etc. Just be real, that's all they ask. They will love your dark side as well.

Lilith in the 4th, might have been suppressed or humiliated in their home for expressing themselves. Their emotions weren't valid. Their parents made them feel guilty for even enjoying little things🥺. Which is why they usually leave their home and never come back.🙃

If you have aquarius moon, or a friend/someone close, with an aquarius moon, TAKE CARE OF THEM😡. They don't show emotions. They really don't. It's not that they're embarrassed, it's like, so many times when they tried, they were either made fun of (got comments like "omg you feel that way???🤣 thats so childish 🤣) or they were unheard. Alot of the times. 😔💔

Also- no matter the placement or sign or planet or whatever. If one is insecure and doesn't love themselves, they won't be in their form(the placements and planets in their chart) like for example- if someone is Capricorn sun, and had a very rough childhood, were neglected, treated badly. If they dont heal themselves, they won't be like how Capricorn is. They'll start playing mind games, will seek attention, validation, might make their friends to only talk to them. Same goes for Capricorn moons, though they have tendency to be a major narcissistic person if they don't heal themselves.

Having mars in scorpio/ 8°/ 20°, very heighten intuition. They usually avoid fights, because they can 🔪⚰️. Don't make them mad, you won't like it :). Don't lie to them. Be straightforward, even if you did something horrible. HOWEVER..... if you do then wrong........🌚🌚🌚🌚 good luck gaining their trust back🫶🏻

If you have a Capricorn friend (cap sun, moon, mercury, venus, Mars, rising, pluto) don't do them wrong. EVER. istg you'll regret it. They have this aura with them and the energy they carry, you won't get it again. I promise you that. 🚫😊

Whatever sign you have in your 7th house (tropical), you are more likely to love them. You will FEEL something for them. Like when people say "oh i cant fall in love, idk what love is" just wait until you meet that sign that is in your 7th. Especially with mars and venus, it grows even more. 😋💕

Someone's sun in your 8th, no no. Don't. They'll hurt you eventually. You will FEEL something inexplicable when you first meet them, but with time, you'll see all the red flags and their dark side. You'll end up hating them.

The sign you have in your 12th house- (if using tropical- you'll like them, but eventually end up getting irritated by them, only if it's very prominent energy like sun. (If using sidereal) you'll hate them. For example, you're an aries rising, you'll hate pisces suns, cause that's in your 12th (sidereal), if taurus rising (tropical), you'll be irritated with aries sun. But will still somehow endure their energy. ☺️(🤢)

Speaking of 12th house, be VERY VERY CAREFUL when someone's planets, doesn't matter inner or outer, majority of the times, they fuck you up mentally. Because of them you'll start having trust issues with everybody. BASTARDS💩

The moon on the day you were born on, you are kinda connected to it. It grounds you, calms you down. Your emotions are stable. Like for example- born on a waxing crescent moon, you'll feel very comfortable and safe under it. 🌛💕

Libra placements are not flakey😭😭😭, they just have this side to them where they can't seem to turn people down. Believe me they feel bad and awful when they say no💔. Because of this soft and innocent side, they usually become a doormat for people🥺. So if a libra placement rejects you, THEY FEEL BAD ABOUT IT. they'll start feeling awful within 5 mins.🥺

For my dear GEMINI MOONS, the moment you start feeling anxious about some person, leave them. Don't give it a 2nd thought, just leave. Let's say your love interest is making you feel confused, he/she is telling you that they only talk to you and shit and you see a story of them with someone else, or catch them with someone else , IF YOU FEEL IT IN YOU STOMACH, ITS REAL, THEY'RE FUCKING WITH YOUR EMOTIONS😀😀. Don't make anyone make you feel like shit. ( I recommend to smack the shit out of them or go ahead just stab them 🫶🏻 I'm with you)

Also if you're a gemini moon, and into crystals too, wear a labradorite/ rose quardz or Tigers eye. They stabilize your emotions. Don't forget to clean and charge them.

LEOS LEOS LEOSSSSSS, always give princess treatment to their close ones, their friends, their lovers, their family 🥹❤️. They're very energetic and chaotic😭💕 trust me you'll like them even if you prefer silence or quietness. (That's for the prominent Leo placements, or Leo stellium)

Sagittarius + libra placements- number 1 flirtersssssss😙 BUT but but... when they fall for someone, they forget their flirting skills, and are devoted to their love only. 🫶🏻 same goes for scorpio + libra placements.

There's a misconception about scorpios being toxic, manipulative, jealous, and controlling. They're not like that. They usually have abandonment issues, weird attachments styles where they either become anxious or avoidant. And usually it is both, first they avoid, then become anxious or vice versa. They NEED reassurance. They just wanna know you ain't playing with them🥺. That's when their jealousy and other things comes' at play. They control, so they don't get hurt. They feel veryyýýyyyyyyy deeply🥺❤️‍🔥 but if you make them feel loved, supported, validate their emotions and understand them. You'll notice, all this jealousy and controlling thing will disappear. They're ride or die fr🫶🏻🫶🏻

《~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~》

Thank you <3 😋🤪😍🤤💕❤️😙

#astrology observations #astro notes #synastry observations #synastry overlays #libra #scorpio #aries #astro community #astro placements #astrology placements #synastry #leo placements #scorpio placements #libra placements #gemini #gemini moon

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novulen · 1 year ago

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𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇 (𝐓𝐈𝐏)𝐒! — *:ꔫ:*

"Kento!" You call out as you hear the front door swing open after the telltale and familiar jingle of his keys. After aching to see your lover all day, you practically run up to him, arms acting on their own and nwrapping around his neck.

You take in his cedar wood cologne, basking in the comfort and relaxation the smell provides to your nerves. "I missed you."

Nanami drinks in the feeling of your soft body in his hold and smiles. "I missed you too."

After your mushy greetings, and a quick kiss, Nanami allows you to shrug off his suit jacket. Your touch has always been so soothing to him, but somehow, today, you seem to be catering to him more than usual.

Escorting him to the couch and having him sit down, Nanami's essentially putty in your delicate hands as you straddle his lap.

"Sweetheart, is there something you need to tell me?" he asks, catching on to your stratagem, tilting his head, amused.

In a feigned fit of hurt you gasp, clutching your chest dramatically. "Ken, how could you?!" you frown, sighing into the skin of his neck soon after, knowing he's caught you. Nanami doesn't say anything, his steady breathing fanning past your ear.

"Okay, well..." he fights to bite back his delight, his eyebrows raising as he listens. "I want to get a new set," you mumble, placing your manicured hand in his.

Nanami gazes down at the pink acrylic, with white French tips completed with bow charms, and hums. "What's wrong with these?" he questions, taking your dainty hand in his rougher one, and inspects your fingers closer, unable to find anything flawed with your current set.

"I just have something else in mind. And I promise once you see them, you'll get why." you pout, innocent eyes peering up at him with that look you know he can't refuse.

How could he ever possibly say no to that irresistible look--how could he ever say no to you?

Now having fell into your own trap, a noise of deep contemplation rumbles from Nanami's chest.

Hell, he has the money, why not?

"Alright. When do you need the money, love?" he questions, and Kento swears he can't hear his own thoughts with how loud you squeal in glee.

"Thank you, ken," you swoon, your eyes overtaking a lusty, familiar hue. His breath catches in his throat as you kiss him, completely under your spell as you yet again escort him to another place, this time, your shared bedroom.

"By Friday, baby."

Friday comes relatively smoothly. Nanami sends you the money--a hefty 350 for both your manicure and to get yourself something.

You get your nails done, and with every opportunity, hide them from him until the 'big moment'--or so you called it.

"Are you ready?" you ask, excited, as you hide your hands behind your back. Nanami sits on the bed, deliciously manspread, nodding along.

"Mhm.."

"Okay! Here it goes."

Slowly, you reveal your nails to him.

Utter silence takes over the bedroom.

You frown as you look at Nanami, an indifferent expression on his face. "You don't like them?"

He shakes his head. "No, I do. but they're just pink,"

And he's right, they're just pink. a brownish-blush pink acrylic—a color that oddly resembles the one of his tip.

"Well, yeah. That's the point, Ken." you smile, slowly advancing towards the blond sat on the bed. Placing yourself on his lap, you begin to speak again.

"doesn't this color seem...I don't know, familiar?" Your lips are now snaking up his neck, soft and plush. Nanami finds it hard to speak when you're on him like this, talking in that tone.

"I--" he stutters, attempting his best to inspect your fingertips. "No."

You giggle, a breathy laugh fanning across his skin.

Perhaps once you compare he’ll get it.

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aashiqeddiediaz · 11 months ago

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you know, after watching day 3 of the democratic national convention, i need to say something, especially to other muslims like me.

most of the muslim communities that i'm a part of have chosen to vote uncommitted, or independent, or sometimes, even trump. they refuse to give their vote to kamala harris and tim walz, because of the way the us has handled the war in gaza, and how they have been careless with acknowledging palestinian lives lost, how it was american bombs and american tax money that went towards funding this genocide. it's fucked up, and it's wrong, and there shouldn't be any debate on that.

and i am 100% in support of that anger. i am 100% in support of forcing america to stop funding this genocide. no one wants to keep seeing palestinian lives suffer. no one is free until we're all free, and i believe that to my very core.

my only concern is that where this anger is being placed, from 1 year to 11 weeks before the presidential election, is so scary. because the reality of the situation is that america has a bipartisan outlook. whoever gets the presidency is either democrat or republican. and every vote that doesn't go towards democracy (i.e. voting for kamala harris) inadvertently goes towards trump's big plan of project 2025, which is basically dictatorship. Even voting uncommitted, even voting independent. we cannot afford to elect trump for a second term, and voting anything other than democrat draws that line way too close, especially in swing states like michigan, pennsylvania, wisconsin, georgia.

yes, there are many issues that we wish joe biden would handle better. there are many ways that the democratic party has fucked up beyond repair. there are many ways the democratic party has refused to acknowledge the pain of people affected by their military people throughout the years, and we've been seeing it for years. this is not a new thing. this did not start on october 7th. we see it during pretty much every administration.

however, voting for your candidate should never be based on a singular issue. no political candidate is ever going to check every single box. and its so unfortunate that we have to always take the "lesser of two evils" approach when nominating our president, but that's the reality of the situation at this very moment. there are many other rights to be considered that are at stake this election, all of which trump is trying to remove. abortion bans, women's rights, healthcare, social security, climate change, to name a few.

(and, somehow, there's a belief that trump will lead to a ceasefire deal where biden-harris didn't? let me tell you that is never going to happen.)

does this mean we just stop protesting or pressuring? absolutely not. you NEVER stop, because if our votes are the ones that put the candidate in their position of power, then we expect results. we expect them to work towards what they promised. and we can't let up on reaching out to our local county offices and our state governors and escalating these issues further until someone takes notice and does something about them. we don't elect them and just leave them to do what they want. we keep them accountable. use that anger i was talking about.

but it also means not having tunnel vision. the election in november could very well mean the end of democracy if kamala harris doesn't win. this post is not me all giggly-happy over the democratic party, because trust me, i have my fair share of issues with them as well. this post isn't to tell you what to do, because i can't force you to vote blue. i can't force the community i'm in to change their minds about toss-up votes. but what i can do is put down plainly what's at stake this election. and that is, very simply, our right to choose everything.

so if you are eligible to vote and haven't registered, please do. if you haven't voted before because "what's the point", please see above what the point is. a handful of votes is enough to flip the outcome of an election, especially with the electoral college.

and if you're still on the fence on whether to vote for kamala or trump, hopefully this post gives a little bit more perspective in the most streamlined way i could manage without bogging you down with statistics and numbers.

the choice is yours.

#zee rambles #as a muslim person of color who is going to practice medicine in this country there is just so much at stake #us politics #politics #vote democrat #democracy #2024 elections #elections #us elections #this post got a little long. but hopefully it inspires some of you #and for those of us who are in communities where people are teetering between harris and trump #it boggles my mind sometimes #tumblr has been so silent about politics and i get it but also there needs to be more encouragement to go out and vote #if you're protesting right now that's completely okay #it's just that ballot in november is so so important for the future of this country #so we have at least a chance towards a world we want versus losing everything we know altogether if trump gets re-elected #ty chey for looking this over and making sure i didn't sound like an idiot <3 mwah ly

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noxturnalmoth · 5 months ago

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What Could Have Been

Summary: Silco, the Eye of Zaun, the Industrialist, was first and foremost a son of Zaun who wanted his motherland free. After an altercation in which his adopted daughter shot him in a fit of rage, he is left dying while the world goes on without him. His life's work and ideals soon trampled to nothing as his memory fades from the world. But what if he was saved?

Warnings: Canon violence

Word Count: 12, 750

Masterlist: here

Chapter 7 - War Drum Hearts

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Cheering.

A man three times your size throws a barrage of fists at you, he's strong, bone breaking type of strong. He'd crush your rib cage if you let him, but you won't.

I refuse.

Your confused, feeling like something is amiss but unable to remember just why. You are somewhere you know all too well, yet it all somehow feels wrong. More than it usually does, like reality itself is not real.

The sand beneath you kicks as you move, forwards, backwards, sideways, following a cadence of pure, unbridled violence. Imprisoned in a concrete cage for people's enjoyment you dance for them a dangerous waltz that could cost your dance, one you've been forced to dance for too long.

The arena is circular, tall concrete walls ending with metal fences so that spectators could observe the bloodshed happening within its confines. The sand the color of rust from all the lives taken in this deadly prison is the only true clue as to what happens here. Your own blood having tainted the powdery floor so many times it's stained the grains of sand.

Kha la-tastaslimas yadh'haba.

I will not give up.

I won't.

I can't.

So you slip through each of his hits, his weight and size a disadvantage when it comes to speed, slower in his movement than you. Vicious eyes regarding you with a sharp murderous haze while you avoid the flurry of punches, delivering yours each time he prepares his. Weaker yet delivered with a clearer mind, with a need to survive, with a rage too big for your young body.

If I burn him out I can win.

But he's chipping away at you, each graze burning your body, oxygen growing thinner with the exhaustion and body straining. Your confusion gaining on you, making you hyper aware of every sound, every feeling, everything you see. But you bite your lip, bringing your focus back to the fight at hand.

I just have to hold on.

His fist meets your chest and you wheeze, pushed onto the opposite wall, your back hitting concrete while you feel the shattering of some of your ribs. Your vision blurs as you feel pain all over, a hand holding your neck, the other bunched up and beating you black and blue. All your darkening sight can observe is the man's angry face as he beats you, your kicks barely doing anything to his gigantic frame, hands clawing at his forearms yet never stopping his assault.

It morphs from what it is to Keradon's face all too soon.

Thick, bushy eyebrows furrowed, lips in a nasty smirk. His face is sharp, animated by hedonistic, pedantic passion at your pain.

Yet you do not cry out.

Not one time.

Even as you feel life slipping away from you, a snarl growing from the anger rolling below your skin like insidious thunder. Destructive, all consuming, devastating. Your own weakness disgusting you as much as the man in front of you. But you will never give him the satisfaction from extracting a whimper of pain from you, not one cry.

The man who promised you a home and gave you a cage.

The man currently killing you, your eyes rolling back in your head, cheers louder as your body gives up on fighting.

I just have to-

"Come on, my dove. Hold on. You have to."

Your eyes open back, somehow enough lucidity striking you for you to wrap your legs around him, crushing his rib cage from the side. The hand on your neck ceases its grip, allowing you enough leeway to bite, the force of your jaw on the joints of his fingers enough to rip two of them apart. Blood and flesh filling your mouth as his index and middle finger, or at least a parts of them, are caught between your premolars.

His rage filled yell barely resounds against the cheerful chaos of the entertained spectators as you brace your hands on the concrete against you, pushing yourself and him backwards until he falls on his back. The man letting out a pained grunt before you begin to punch and claw at his chest, slowly digging a cavity as he fights back, now both hands around your neck and squeezing so tight you know your neck can and will break if you wait too long.

Strength begins to leave you once more but you continue, legs holding his hostage, hands caked with blood while his chest acts as a scratching post for your sharp, overgrown nails.

You have no time to do anything but fight.

Do not think.

Do not focus on anything but this moment.

Your jaw sets as a heavy gulp passes through your throat, begging for air while the grip on your neck tightens, your vertebrae screaming at the pressure.

I'm not gonna die here.

I can't.

"My dove, don't abandon. Come on, you're stronger than this, fight for Zaun. For me."

I can't abandon.

"Fight for us."

I refuse to give up.

And you punch at the bleeding chest that you've dug into. Hands around your throat growing weaker as bone cracks below your hands, spurring you into continuing once oxygen fills your lungs once more with each painful breath.

You won't die here.

The voice ringing in your mind so familiar yet so unknown. Like a storm you could see from afar, recognizing the phenomenon yet not knowing what it would bring you this time around. But it motivates you, fills you with a strength you felt was your own yet not at the same time.

Keradon's eyes try to keep open, but roll back as your fist finally punches through his ribs and into his chest. The hands at your neck falter, your own unoccupied grip moving to his neck as you squeeze, wishing he'd just die already. So that you could finally be free.

It's warm and wet in the cavity of his body, organs pulsating with life as they slow down from your ministrations yet your hand doesn't stop its pursuit. Picking ribs apart while the man beneath you writhes and screams like a feral, wounded animal, the sounds ringing loud in your ears and nearly rendering you deaf. Then you slip beneath his diaphragm, hand going under his left lung to access the battery powering his organic body.

A heart, beating and pumping the warm, sticky blood over you while you pull it out of its spot, body shuddering at the action.

"Do you really think any of what you've done will make you a hero?"

Keradon all but growls out, pain twinging his voice with what you could only describe as a desperate shakiness, his last attempt at confusing you so that his life does not end by your hands.

"I would never call myself a hero, you've made sure I will never be one. But I can be a wolf. Protect what's mine with ferocious strength, fight until the death for whoever and whatever I consider worthy."

The organ pulsates in your hand, shivering frenetically as if it knew what was about to come.

"And what do you consider to be worthy, little pup?"

The voice deepens and the face morphs again, nearly animal with its elongated snout, eyes sharp and predatory even in such a position, teeth now fangs made to rip apart flesh.

"Freedom."

"We're losing her. Shit!" The voice spits out, panic tinting his voice with shades of despair, shaky sobs choked out by the man's voice. "My dove, come on, fight back!"

"To live, to fight for what's right, to be happy without any guilt over our own existence, to finally prove to the world that our people deserve greatness as much as anyone else…to love."

"Her heart's still pumping, she's not gone yet. Cauterize the wound for Janna's sake!" The unknown man growls, commanding and terrified.

"You won't die then?"

"I refuse to."

"Refuse? Little pup, death awaits no one. It takes."

"It won't take from me, wolf. I refuse its terms. I refuse its presence in this very moment of my life. I refuse it. I will not die. Not like this, not yet. And it will have to respect my wish."

"Or what?"

"Or freedom will be its wish as well."

The beast beneath you sneers, amusement and pride overtaking its angry figure.

"Do it then. Take it. Take your life back from me, child."

You hand squeezes its heart as it laughs deeply, a hand resting on your hand with warmth and comfort you'd find such a monster unable to muster.

Then the heart bursts, your right arm covered messily in blood that is absorbed within your skin as the arena's lights turn off, darkness taking over.

Then it burns, the blood absorbed in your arms feeling like rivers of molten stones, lava in your veins, and your arm begins to crumble. Your yells of pain echo in the vast emptiness as you're brought to your knees, all that's left of your arm being your shoulder while you wail and gasp.

Then you feel the rest.

Your back, your left leg, your ribs…

They burn all the same.

Ashes crumbling where your leg was and leaving nothing but white hot pain, back feeling like skin was pulled apart from muscle. Violently, screams leave you as a light comes to view.

I'm not dying here.

I can't.

I refuse.

No matter how exhausted you drag yourself on the floor. Biting cold nipping at what remains of your leg and arm as you use what you have left to move forward, teeth gritting in agony, ears ringing and eyes tearing up.

"Her heartbeat's coming back to normal, the cauterization worked."

"She needs blood, Silco, she won't survive even after all we did if we don-"

"Take mine. She's done it for me once, there were no problems."

"It will be a lot of it Silco."

"I know Sevika, and I don't care. Just do what you must."

Silco?

Memories flashed through you, of a name that once gave you hope when in the pits, of a man who you saved, who became someone important, who painted the town red by your side. Then came the soft smell of him, tobacco and metal, the feeling of his warm calloused hands, the long black and grey hair you caressed before you went to sleep. The face you loved seeing everyday that you were allowed to live.

Scarred, marked by violence yet forever gentle when the warm teal and frigid orange of his eyes gazed upon you.

The face of your closest friend, of the man who has been offered another chance at life, of the strongest man you know.

The face of the man you love.

You crawl faster, the light coming closer and closer.

Then you remember the latest events. The revolution in the making, meeting Sevika, finding Jinx, Violet and Isha, meeting what was left of Vander. The commune, Viktor…

The fight.

Silco. You need to get back to him. You need to make sure Isha, Jinx and Vi are alright.

So as you glare at the blinding light you let out a war cry, your muscles screaming as you use what's left of your left leg and right arm to aid in your crawling. The cold dtone beneath you nearly pulsing with life, warmth bursting from it each time you move forward until the light engulfs you.

Then you get up with a choked inhale, whistling and pained.

"Silco!"

Your eyes are blinded by all that is around you at first. Unknown smells and voices filling your senses as well as familiar ones.

"I'm here my dove, it's alright. You're alive."

As vision returns to you, you find yourself on your bed, your room soon recognized even if your exhausted, pained state. People are leaning over you, holding your body. You can recognize Sevika, Violet, Caitlyn, Isha, Jinx and the rest is unknown to you, tending to your burning body.

A hand squeezes your left and you see Silco, hair out of its up do and strands of ink black and regal silver framing his shoulders and fluttering around his shoulders with each heavy breath.

He looks positively horrified.

Yet as your eyes find his, the tension in his body leaves him with a loud sigh, leaning backwards on the small, shoddy wooden desk chair with a heavy thud.

"What happened?"

Isha cries and signs what you recognize to be "I'm sorry" again and again before her arms wrap around your waist, Jinx patting her back softly as she looks at you tearfully. Vi looks down, lower lip trapped between her lips before she tilts her face up to meet your gaze with a poorly hidden sniffle, Caitlyn at her side with a loving arm around her waist before she nods at you. Sevika is next to you, holding your shoulders down with a concerned look over her face, her eyes shining with something you could only describe as a mix between devastation and admiration.

"You nearly died to protect Isha, Mrs. Silco."

You turn to the pink haired sister. The last memories you've made quickly finding your way back in your mind.

An explosion, Noxians, Isha holding an overloaded gun towards a mindless, violent Vander, you rushing to save the girl.

And Silco's expression of unbridled hopelessness and desperation.

"Told you not to call me that, kid. Glad you made up with your girl though." You smile at the two and they smile back, albeit with sadness swirling in their eyes.

"Well after the stunt you pulled, I think that's the most fitting title."

You huff, groaning when your ribs pinch against your lungs.

"Careful, smithy. You've got broken ribs, a burnt back, and you've …well let's just say you lost some weight."

"How bad?"

Sevika glances down at the blanket covering you and nods at the medics to leave, they pat your shoulder and wish you well before doing so and you nod in thanks.

"Try to clench your fists and move your toes."

And you do, but something feels wrong, something feels amiss, other than the excruciating pain there are parts of you that you cannot feel. The same ones that you lost in your dream

"Sevika…Pull the covers off."

"Smithy, I don't think-"

"Show me."

She sighs and her flesh arm grips the blanket, her eyes trailing to Silco who looks absolutely wrecked. Tears streaking his face, eyes falling from exhaustion, his arms on the sides of his chair as one is linked to yours with a tube not too dissimilar to the one you've used to transfuse some of your blood to him over a year ago. He nods weakly, eyes trained to your form as more silent tears escape him, his hand gripping yours for comfort, although you know that it's as much for himself as it is for you.

Then cold washes over your body as the warmth is ripped from you, the scarlet fleece covers taken from you by the woman behind you. You breathe shakily, shivers raising goosebumps on your exposed body, eyes trailing towards Jinx who covers Isha's eyes while her face scrunches up painfully.

And you look down.

Your dream flashes in and out of your vision, your left arm and leg disintegrating into ashes as your body burns from within. But what is beneath your eyes is not clean cut like carved stone, no, it's messy, bloody bandages covering ripped flesh.

Stumps instead of a leg and an arm.

A scream rips through your throat as sobs are choked out from the depths of your chest. Your back screaming and ribs cracking under the shifting of your body. The pain now at the forefront of your mind as confusion ebbs away to leave place to utter despair.

Sevika grips your shoulders and forces your head back on the pillow placed over the desk. But despite the strength of her action, her face was soft, pinched in an agony that mirrored yours.

"I'm sorry Smithy."

You had lost parts of yourself, but that wasn't what was the most painful. Isha's health mattered more to you then and it still does now. No what was painful was the horrible realization that you had lost what helped you help people, your means of fighting for Zaun.

What am I going to do now that I'm useless?

I can't make a new body for myself, I can't work, I can't fight, I can't-

"My dove, don't worry. We'll find a way." You hear Silco's voice for the second time since you opened your eyes.

"How? I can't- I can't do anything anymore, I'm useless now, I can't-"

"I'm…making you new limbs..ma- Smithy." Jinx cuts herself off before placing the blanket back on you to spare you the sight of your mangled body.

"Yeah, my sister's a little genius, the whole time you've been asleep she's been preparing blueprints. But she never got around to make them because.. none of us want to leave you."

"You've…Done a lot for everyone Mrs. Silco, even for me unknowingly. We'll be here for you just like you've been for us." You hear Caitlyn's heavy high-Piltovan accent say, your blurry, tearful eyes looking at her at her words.

"We're gonna help you, Smithy. Samira's gone back to her pharmacy with the plants Silco has brought back alongside you, she said that this was as important as bringing you back to health. That she'll keep in touch about how it's all going. But she brought enough painkillers to last a while and enough material so that we can take care of you."

You settle back, trying to calm down yet with the sobs racking through you, you can't help the bursts of pain flowing through your body at each movements.

"You're too important for us to abandon. You're one of us, Mrs. Silco and we're helping you back onto your feet. You've got a revolution to lead after all."

You look to Violet who's now standing at your side.

"I'm sorry for what I've done. I promise to earn my forgiveness. And it begins with this."

You nod weakly to the girl, her hand wiping away your tears as your eyes blur in exhaustion. Your eyes trail to Silco, wondering what would happen after you kissed him before marching into the fray with the same vigor your opponents had, yet as his eyes find yours again you don't find any confusion or resentment.

Only pure love, and a heart wrenching amount of concern.

Exhaustion takes over you again, the voices and figures around you erased into the nothingness of dreamless slumber. There, no pain reaches you, you only float in a warm, empty oblivion.

What will you do now? No matter how much they try to help, something seems to have shifted in the world, and it seems like the war that was brewing insidiously between the sister cities was all but ready to burst now. Will you be ready by the time it happens? Will you be able to help, to participate?

What would happen to Silco and his family?

You know they'll all march into battle, hand in hand, ready to protect Zaun. But are you going to be left behind, too frail to protect what you've built, what you've defended all this time?

Your eyes open once more, the light feeling remaining in your mangled body from the painkillers administrated to you.

Smell returns to you first, tobacco and metal. Then feeling, a hand caressing your hair softly and warmth enveloping you, a comfortable heavy weight keeping you close. Then your sight, the dark room illuminated by the neon lights outside, showing forms huddling together on the floor of your room, covered in fleece blankets not dissimilar to yours. Sleeping peacefully, the chaos of the past few…god knows how long, getting the best of them.

"Why did you do it?"

The low, velvety voice of your friend calls out from your right. You turn your head to see the glowing orange staring at you, eye bags so heavy that you could see them in the dark, cheeks more gaunt than usual, and hair disheveled unlike anything you've seen before from the man.

"Needed to protect the kid, she's important to your daughter."

"But are you not important to me?"

You sigh, wishing you could turn to curl up in his arms but only able to cup his cheek with your left hand, body cracking at the unused joints being extended after so long in bed.

"I couldn't let a child die, Silco."

"I should have known, I should have stayed close. Or I shouldn't have come with you all at all."

"None of what happened is your fault Silco."

"It always is. What I touch crumbles and those I love get hurt, die, or are left shadows of their former selves." His voice shakes as he talks, heavy breaths licking over your face like the heat from your hearth. "I could have lost you."

"But you didn't."

"Yes but I could have!" His whisper raises in a breathy yell to not wake up the girls sleeping on your floor. "What would I have done then? Live without you?"

"Yes Silco, you have your family back. You would have left one day or ano-"

His hand slides from your hair to your face and his lips clash against yours. It's passionate and desperate, he pours all of himself into what remains of you as if it'd undo all the damage, and in a way it does. Your eyes well up with tears before you close them, enjoying his proximity, his taste.

Coffee and tobacco, whiskey biting the end of your taste buds.

His other arm wraps around you slowly, light as a feather although his intentions are heavy, riddled with guilt, self-hatred, remorse, and love.

For you.

"Silco?" You breathe out, still disbelieving of the situation, too much happening all at once for you to believe this isn't just a delirious dream or the afterlife.

"You're the one good thing I have, the one thing that made me be a better man that I've ever been. You've built a life for me, and you haven't left. Even when I was difficult, even when I was anything but good to me. You believed in me and you gave me all that I could ever want. I don't want to lose you, you've been the foundation of my very existence since you saved me, you're…you're everything to me. If I were to lose you, I don't know if I'd be able to live, not anymore."

His breathing is heavy as he leans his forehead over yours.

The Zaunite symbol for love.

Although he can't say it, it all comes rushing to you like a torrent.

He loves you.

He always has, in his own clumsy, wordless ways.

When he cooked you breakfast, when he proposed to hold you in your sleep, when he gave you his dagger the night he caught you sneaking out, when he chastised you for working too hard, when he let you baptize him that day at the river, when he invited you to visit the mines…

He loves you.

"Silco…you've.."

"I have. It was impossible not to."

"For how long."

"Would you believe me if I said since the beginning? I've had to sort out many feelings, many memories, I've had to rebuild so much of myself that had broken and burned…And I couldn't dare to believe you would ever…love me back. I suppose."

You painfully turn to him, unable to resist the urge anymore and holding him with your left arm. His right arm wraps around your waist as your gaze finds his again.

"I believed the same. That once you've gotten back to where you wanted to be, you'd leave. And then when we've found Jinx, Isha, Vi and Vander, I couldn't help but feel that way more so than ever."

He huffs out a scoff.

"I would never leave you. Not even for them. Leaving you would be worse than death to me."

Tears begin to leave your eyes, face nuzzled into Silco's chest as soft sobs burn through your chest and out of your lips, his hand caressing your face and the other softly massaging your hip.

How stupid were you to not notice?

So much could have been done, lived, avoided, if you had only noticed his gaze on you, his actions and his words. Each mannerism so loving and soft towards you only a fool would see it all as friendship.

And what a fool you were.

"God I'm stupid."

He shushes you softly. "You're not. Out of the two of us I believe myself to be the idiot. I should have kissed you much sooner than you kissed me, it'd have saved us much heartbreak."

You nod, yet you do not blame him. Both of you have been denying your worth to the other to the point you could not even see the obvious love you shared.

"I'm so sorry Silco."

"I don't blame you, not for this, not for anything. You've always been a protector, I should have known something like this could happen. I'm not angry, but Janna…I was so damn scared. I've- I've seen you burst in shades of blue, limbs ripped out of you as the battle stopped to stare at your death like some sort of fucking show. I thought I lost you then without telling you-"

You can pinpoint exactly the moment in which he breaks. His shaky voice devolving into gasped words and sobs as his face slides to your neck, tears wetting it as he curls into you.

"I was a selfish man. Conceited, cantankerous, callous and egotistic. But you've turned me into something else, and I've never felt so alive, so happy. I couldn't lose you, I can't lose you. I'm sorry it took me so long my dove, I'm sorry it took this for me to open my eyes. I'm so sorry. For everything."

Your hand brushes his hair, long and knotted from his state of unrest as he shatters within your arms. Sobs melting into one another as you nuzzle your face to his hair and dampen it with your own tears.

All the guilt you've felt at loving him. All those fears at taking too much from him, at keeping him from what he was owed, what he was due, what he deserved, all evaporated at this very moment. All that was left were two naked souls, baring their fears to one another, kisses and tears shared as they fused into one another.

His lips reach yours again and you taste the salt from both of your messy wails. But it doesn't matter, your limbs don't matter.

"I'm alive."

"You are."

"And you're with me."

"Until the end of the line, my dove."

You sigh and press another kiss, greedily taking what you've wanted for months upon months. What your daydreams tortured you with.

"I've felt guilty for loving you because I felt like I took your friendship for granted, like I was using you. I didn't want you to leave but I talked myself into accepting the narrative that I was nothing but a transitory period for you, no matter how much the thought of you leaving hurt. I've never had someone see me like you do, I didn't know what to do, how to think. Especially when I realized just how much I'm in love with you. I was afraid to fuck it all up Sil."

"You could never. Not in my eyes."

The rest of the night is spent huddling up to one another, no matter if hunger struck you after days of not eating. His arms so comforting and warm you fell asleep curled up to him, the pain a faraway memory and nothing compared to how full your heart was.

The next morning you awake to breakfast, Silco softly feeding you as Isha curls up on your side. Jinx having gone away to tinker on her new prototype limbs for you and Violet and Caitlyn heading back to Piltover to check the state of things while Sevika leaves to take care of the Lanes.

Samira arrives soon enough, her arms wrapping around you before she pulls away to do a check up. Your body seems to be healing well enough, two weeks passing from when you woke up the first time, this moment being a week after the explosion.

So nearly a month had passed already.

"I took the notebook you had on you, carved the runes on the machine. It seems to work as expected but the serum still needs a bit of tweaking."

You nod weakly, a smile stretching across your lips.

"I'm glad then Sami."

"Where did you even find those plants?"

"The Herald."

You mumble sadly, remembering Violet's guilt stricken face when she told you that the kind, gentle man had been killed. That it was what led to what happened that night. The followers collapsing, the yells of pain, Vander acting the way he did.

"How was he?" She asks softly while re wrapping your bandages.

"He was a good man. He only wanted to help... I wish I could have done something."

"You already do too much dove, and that's how you've ended in such a predicament. Think about yourself more, please." Silco drawls from besides you, hand gripping yours in a comfortably tight grip.

"I am the last on my list of worries, Sil. I have too much to worry about for me to be further up in it."

"Then I suppose I'll have to do it for you." You smile up at him, cheeks burning as Samira chuckles, coughing out "lovebirds" under her breath.

"The antidote should be ready soon. I'll bring it when it's the case."

You nod in thanks and the woman leaves, Silco's thumb rubbing over the back of your hand enough to settle the pain you constantly feel as his presence brings you comfort.

More days pass without much to say. Sevika is preoccupied by the Lanes, Violet and Caitlyn still nowhere to be seen due to probably taking care of whatever is going on up in Piltover. Isha is still with you, insisting to bring up your meal tray three times a day and to make you as many entertaining games as a creative child like her can, many drawings now decorating papers stacked on your desk.

Silco takes care of the more "adult" side of things. He prepares your food, soothes you to sleep, administers your pain killers, re wraps your bandages and carries you to and fro the bathroom for baths and otherwise.

Even if you hadn't discussed labels, you knew that all this care, and that the new look in his eyes and the many kisses exchanged showed a shift in the dynamic. No longer were you friends, or at least you were now more than simply that.

No.

He's now your lover.

And it becomes clearer every night that you fall asleep in his arms, everyday that he cares for you, what you two have become. No name or nickname used to describe you other than "my dove", dry bitten lips on yours anytime he is near, soft talks about what you two think of each other, about unanswered questions.

"Why did you start calling me that?" You had asked one night.

"Because you bring me peace." He had answered before his lips were upon yours again his forehead soon softly knocking on yours in the loving, Zaunite way that lovers and families use to show their adoration to one another.

After another week, Jinx knocked heavily on your door, strutting in after holding her father and Isha tight. She hugged you softly with a shy look on her face as she presented finished mechanical limbs to you.

"I've made them really functional, 'cause I know you prefer simple stuff that works well over my usual more silly stuff."

The limbs look great. The arm is armored, strong and a soft blue powers it as she turns it on, showcasing the claws at the end of the fingers and the intricate heating process.

"So you can use it on the metal you work with along with your hearth! I also made it capable of generating a shield." She clenches the fist and does a heavy knocking motion with it. All of a sudden a large shield appears, the girl knocking against it with her own hand to show it is entirely physical, before she proceeds to undo it by making the mechanical arm do the motion it first did.

"And you can also rev it up here." She shows the wrist, twisting it as the arm does a purring noise. "And you can deliver a mean hit, on stubborn metal or stubborn people! You also have cool spiky knuckles for extra oomph!"

You nod as she imitates a punch motion with the metal arm, a heavy bust of air following the action and sending the girl flying backwards onto the ground. She giggles before placing the mechanical limb on the bed, the leg now within her grasp.

"This is a just basic leg, but it has the same rev thing as your arm. Basically, stomp your foot." She stomps on the ground with it, the leg whirring to life. "And then you kick!" This time she doesn't kick, Silco softly glaring at her in warning while she smiles at you, eyes big in wonder yet a twinge of hesitation passing through them.

You softly laugh along, your ribs healed enough for you to allow yourself such a pleasure as laughter.

"Come on then little Einstein, suit me up."

She nods excitedly, mumbling about how it would feel weird and probably hurt at first. And it does, your pained whines mumbled while you clench your jaw as Jinx begins by placing your leg on. Isha hugging your waist to give you comfort.

But you get up with Silco's help, wobbling after a month of not walking yet swiftly getting the hand of it. The arm soon follows, your hips leaning against your desk as you savor the feeling of standing after so long in bed.

The pain is excruciating once more, but when you feel the weight of the arm you can't help but sigh in joy. Nerves linked to the hand, you watch yourself clench and unclench, wiggling your fingers around as a soft giggle escapes you. You look at Silco, who is already looking at you with so much adoration that you nearly stumble as you limp your way to him and wrap both of your arms around his shoulders, your forehead knocking against his.

"Come here Jinx." You turn to her, Isha's tiny blue head picking from behind her with a big smile. "You too kiddo."

And you bring both girls into your embrace.

You've never felt so warm and loved, so complete. Yet here you were, held by three people that have stayed by your side through this, even if two of them knew you barely over a month.

"Thank you for this, hon." You cry as you pat her hair, now short and dyed with a streak of purple, the fringe still framing once side of her face like her father's hair does his.

"I know you want to fight, and I know how much you want to help. Staying like that wouldn't have fit you mam- smithy, I had to do this." A shiver racks through you as she shoves her face in your neck, the nickname bringing you to cry once more as you always seem to do lately.

"You didn't have to. But you did it anyways, you're a good person Jinx, never let people tell you or make you think otherwise."

She nods, tears wetting your shoulder.

"Please, call me Powder." You turn to Silco who smiles softly at his daughter, his arm wrapping tighter around you.

"Okay, darling. Powder it is." You kiss the crown of her head before wobbling to a kneeling position, cupping Isha's face with your hands. "And thank you Isha, for giving me my meals and entertaining me every day. I couldn't have possibly stayed strong without you."

You rub your noses together and she giggles her arms wrapping around your neck as she hugs you.

"Up you go!" You carry her in your arms as you stand back up, your body protesting at the movement but you couldn't care less. Everything feels heavier yet lighter at the same time, the metal limbs foreign in weight and texture, feeling obviously lost to them, but their strength helping you carry the child with ease.

Silco hugs you from behind, a kiss on your neck followed by a soft sigh as he placates his chest to your back, swaying you from side to side.

"Ew, cooties."

"Powder." Silco jokingly chastises and you feel a smile grow on his lips as he kisses the point where your neck meets your shoulder once more, his chin soon laying on it so he can look at his daughter. "You've grown into a great woman, I'm proud of you. We both are."

"So…Did you two stop being stupid?" You chuckle, Isha wiping your tears away as you nod.

"Yeah, turns out near death does that to people. A real truth serum if you ask me."

She claps her hands and hugs you, a squeal escaping her lips.

"Thank Janna! It was exasperating to watch really."

Silco snorts and one of your arms leaves Isha as you hand her back over to Jinx, the other pinching behind you at Silco's waist who pinches back at yours.

The girls leave together that day, Samira visiting soon after they hug you tight enough that you could feel your ribs breaking again.

"Thanks for everything mama."

"You're welcome Powder. Thanks for taking care of your father before." She nods with pursed lips before kissing your cheek, leaving with a bouncing Isha in tow.

So now here you are, sitting at the kitchen table with Silco next to you, one of his hands on your thigh, and Samira presenting a vial of a blue liquid to you.

The serum, what you've taken months to make to save Silco from an untimely demise. What could help hundreds or thousands here in Zaun with chemical related diseases from the water, the air…anything.

You could see especially now how much more grey Silco's skin had become. The exhaustion of the past month of taking care of you enough for him to forgo Shimmer completely, perhaps to suffer alongside you. Willing to feel himself decomposing just so he could share your pain.

What you and Samira discovered at the very beginning of your research was that the shimmer, although soothing the pain of the rot, made the healing of Silco's wound stagnate, solely freezing the bacteria's progress as the scratches stayed open and piled with more chemicals. Effectively, shimmer worsened Silco's state, letting it simply stagnate in favor of pain relief, instead of treating it. He had probably known, using it to his advantage to look menacing as the eye of Zaun, yet since no cure had been found after his new life began, he continued seeking shimmer as his only relief.

That time is now over.

"Do you want to tell him, or do I tell him?" Silco looks between you and Samira suspiciously and you sigh.

"Silco." You begin. "Darling." Your voice adds, the word naturally flowing from your lips and the hand around your thigh clenches as his face softens with the same look of adoration you now recognize from months back.

"Remember the project I told you about, the serum and the machine?"

"Yes."

"I may have started it because I know that shimmer is running low after discontinuation and that your infection is spreading. If it gets to your brain you could die, so I…well." You bite your lip in hesitation and he turns more to you, his other hand gripping your chin to make you gaze at him.

"Go on."

"I've taken samples from you, the river, and plants so we could compare and make a serum using shimmer as a base? This is why I worked so hard behind your back, I know shimmer has less of an effect on you and that soon it would be useless, if it didn't run out first at least. I kept it from you because I know you would have refused my help."

You let out a sigh and close your eyes, heart beating fast beneath your rib cage.

"Dove, look at me." Your jaw clenches but you obey, his eyes gazing at you with nothing but love, softer and more intense than you've seen before, ocean and fire clashing in his eyes.

"You've done it all for me?"

"Yes."

He pulls you in for a kiss, gentle and feather light before his hand reaches his injector in his pocket.

"Then heal the last part of me that is damaged, just as you have done the rest." His voice is soft as he says this, impossibly soft. And you nod, Samira handing you the vial before patting your hand.

"Is that why you've talked to the Herald?"

"Yes, Silco. He…was knowledgeable about runes, the missing part of the machine I designed. And he provided the plants needed to heal you, if he were still…I'd have much to thank him about." Your lips twitch, a knot of sadness tying itself in your throat.

"I think he knows, no matter where he is now." Samira answers back, your hands placing the vial in the injector with practiced ease before you lean over Silco.

Your left hand holds his nape gently while your right metal hand is braced against the marred side of his face, the injector encompassing his sick eye. Black velvet encasing brilliant orange trained on you like its teal brother, his hands soon holding your waist as a "go on" escapes his lips, breathy and calm.

So you do.

Silco always writhed in pain during the procedure, but the new serum seemed to sear him alive. He shakes and groans in agony while you see the blue of the serum penetrate his eye through his pupil, a blue tear escaping him yet the cyan tint that colored his orange iris doesn't leave.

Blue like the rivers in the Freljord, blue like the seas your people sailed long ago to arrive to Zaun, blue like the pure magic of the hex stone you used to create the serum.

The agony doesn't seem to stop yet you can already see a difference, the wet, grey wounds find back a twinge of red, blood irrigating the dead tissue. So you extend your hand towards Samira, hurrying her to hand you a paper towel so you can wipe at the wounds, now more reminiscent of early scarring instead of rotting cuts.

When you softly pass the paper towel on his face, some moist, grey skin comes off, and more blood seems to rush to his skin, his face already looking much better, while his now blue eye trails lazily to you, still fighting off the pain.

"It's working, the wounds look already much better. Samira, we've done it. We've fucking done it." You call out shakily, hands cradling Silco's face as your thumbs rub it comfortingly. "Darling, I know it hurts but what does it feel like?"

He takes a moment to take back his breath.

"I can…see again, my eye sees." He croaks. "It feels like ants are crawling in my skin, it burns but it feels like every time a wave of pain comes, the next is less important. Still hurts like hell though."

Samira sighs and leans back in her chair, a hand raking through her hair as she giggles.

"You crazy bitch. We did it." She mutters happily and Silco nuzzles to your stomach as you squeak.

"You did. Thank you Samira, for helping me even if you knew who I was."

"I owed her a lot, and I'm a doctor, I heal people. Even if you were once a bad man, this could revolutionize medicine in Zaun, I had to try."

"I think we all owe her a lot."

"You can say that again.

"I think we all-" You slap a hand over his mouth while you giggle, Silco licks at your hand and you laugh harder, wiping your hand on his shirt.

Samira groans out "not you too, she rubbed off on you, I'm out" and hugs you before she leaves, handing you a few more vials of the serum in the process. The next few days spent mostly in bed as you enjoy your newly complete body and Silco rides out the pain of his treatment, an injection a day seemingly enough after four more days for his scars to look entirely clean of contaminated flesh. His blue eye now brilliant blue instead of a dull shade, the orange long forgotten.

He seems more clingy as well, always holding you, lips always near or on you. His gratefulness expressed through physical contact and showing no signs of ever stopping. Though you couldn't complain.

It's like the two of you are catching up on a wasted year of constant pining. And you were, at least on your side of things.

Yet no matter how good things were at home, you couldn't help but pull Silco away from the comfort of your small apartment as you go to your shop, taking Sevika's new arm, before walking to the lanes. Your leg and arm feel weird, painful, yet you wouldn't have it the same, even if you limp, even if it feels choppy.

You'll get your bodily functions back before war happens, the thought of it dropping heavy boulders in your stomach. You need to get ready, you need to get your people ready, and mangled body or not you would.

The streets are empty, that feeling of impending doom that hurried you out of the comfort of your home amplified at the emptiness of Zaun. You can feel it, something is beyond wrong.

At the last drop Sevika welcomes you, hurrying you to the bar, yet smiling at you when you notice her putting on the arm you've just brought. A sigh of relief escaping her as she observes it, clenching and unclenching her hand in relief and wonder.

"News are that the Hextech Viktor's alive, and he's gone insane and allied himself to Ambessa to do some real bad shit to the world. As in bring the end of it."

You swallow roughly after her brief explanation.

"No, that can't be right. He's helped me heal Silco! He gave me crucial information! That can't be him." You shake your head.

"Jayce Talis is back." Your head snaps to her. "He's the one who said it, he's gone through some shit and he's seen what he's talking about. Apparently a weird sentient mannequin tried to kill him and Mel Medarda, yes she's also alive, and that was a person. A person that Viktor…evolved, or something. Jayce mentioned something about a glorious evolution."

You sigh and nod, crossing your arms and laying your head above them while Silco takes the lead, the thought of Viktor's kindness transforming into this warped, disgusting vision, enough to make you sick.

"And you want us to rally the Children of Zaun?"

"Yeah, I'm taking care to do that with the Lanes, Jinx is currently rallying the Jinxers. We think about making a small meeting once we've finished this. Get our ideas straight."

She hands you a paper, your head lifting from your hands as you take it.

"Got given this after the outposts were taken down, an enforcer handed that to me personally. It explains a bit more than I can, really."

Your eyes trail over the cursive yet rushed handwriting.

Hello Revolutionaries and friends of Zaun,

It's me Violet. Shit is looking god awful here and I wish I could come down to Zaun to tell you everything in person but this will have to do.

Jayce and Mel are back, Ambessa's got a crazy mage about to ruin both our cities by her side, Viktor, the Herald, and if he reaches the Hexgates we're all toast, beyond fucked.

So we have an army of nearly unbeatable puppets and Noxian warriors against us, so we'll need all the help we can get. Here in Piltover, we've done our best to train as many willing citizens as possible, both Piltovan and Zaunite after knocking down the barriers. The rest is currently being evacuated. We don't know how much time we have and we need your help.

Rally as many people as you can, because if we fail, it'll come down to you guys.

And if we all fail? Then the world is beyond fucked.

So please, I beg of you, Silco, Smithy, Jinx and Sevika, to help us the best you can.

Sincerely,

Vi.

You had been right, war is about to burst and it's worse than you could have ever imagined. Ambessa's will to bring the Noxian way infecting the sister cities before, creating the Kiramman rule, and even now. Viktor, changing from a kind man, willing to do good, to an insane psychotic mage. And all the people now back from the dead, bringing forth bleak news that could be nothing but true.

This wouldn't just be war, it would be a massacre.

"Did you start?" Silco asks, eyes looking over the letter after you hand it over to him.

"Yeah, Jinx too, I told her earlier this week when she came by with the little one."

You nod, so the Jinxers and trenchers were already on board and civilians are far away somewhere safe. Good.

"We'll get the Children on there too." The low velvety voice next to you confirms, and you breathe out a sigh.

"No time like the present Silco." You point towards the exit and he nods back, a quick handshake shared between him and Sevika then a soft knock of his forehead on yours before he heads out.

"How are you feeling?"

"It's strange to have limbs so heavy when you can feel nothing with them. But I have to admit, it's good to be able to get out of bed."

"I get you." You smile at her and she smiles back, a new mechanical arm clasping around your shoulders. "Take good care of the old grump, yeah?"

"As if I didn't already, Sev."

"And take good care of yourself." You sigh and clasp your own metal arm over her shoulder.

"Can't promise much after these news. When's the meeting?"

"End of the week, Sunday around three at the greenhouse."

"We'll be there, you can count on us."

She laughs warmly, her grey eyes looking at you softly.

"I know I can Smithy." She embraces you quickly.

"How's the arm?"

"Perfect." She takes it off of you and rubs your hair, you swat her hand away while chuckling.

"Then I'll take my leave, our people need us."

"That they do, Smithy. Stay safe."

"You too Sev, see you soon."

It all moves so fast. The red smoke in the sky calling forth those of your own who stayed, wearing their red bandannas like a badge of honor around their arms.

You explain it all to them, the threat you are currently facing, your alliance to Piltover in this conflict and all the good that could come out of it for Zaun if you succeeded. You tell them of the risks, the fate that could await many of them, death or even worse being turned into an evolved, murderous, mindless mannequin at the beck and call of an insane sorcerer.

The mission is to fight as hard as you can, provide back up to any and everyone that needs it, because no matter if death brings forth war, starting today you're all united under the same goal. Survival. And you will do better than Piltover has in the past, you will never disregard them, and you will never disregard your fellow Zaunites either.

The answer was clear as you spoke, the war you mentioned albeit different than expected had been coming for a long time. The people that call themselves the Children of Zaun, the people admiring you and working under your ideal have been ready to die the moment they began fighting by your side.

So with a heavy heart you walk to the greenhouse on Sunday, your people rallied and ready to be called upon for war. Silco looks strangely nostalgic as he enters the room, his daughter, Isha and Sevika already sitting down. A mop of brown hair crowning a tall man is also seen, the body leaning backwards on the table with an exhaustion you could understand yet not. The only clue of who they are is the hammer at their side.

This is Jayce Talis.

Creator of Hextech, Councilor…and a dead man back from the afterlife.

"No one truly seems to die anymore, do they?" Viktor had told Silco when they met, and if you could understand it then, now the meaning was even more jarring.

It's as if the whole balance of the world had changed into complete chaos.

"Councilor Talis." You call out and his head snaps up, body moving around the table to meet you. He looks different, coat of ivory yet clothes and armor in the Zaunite forest green you've grown with. Blood red splitting the two like a mark of death. His hair is longer, his beard has grown and his face is marred with several more scars. He looks unlike the boy you've known about years ago.

"You must be the blacksmith. Violet and Caitlyn talked about you, you seem to be faring well, I'm glad."

"As well as someone who nearly died and lost two limbs yes. But there's no time for wallowing, us in Zaun have been getting ready for war for a long time. Our people are ready." He nods at you, hand gripping your metal one in a handshake, his eyes looking to yours then to your mechanical leg in what seems like regret. "You seem…tired."

"No rest for the wicked, I suppose." His eyes are full of a darkness that seem to fester within him, just like the colored veins on his left wrist, wrapped around a stone that is set within his skin itself.

"I guess not." Your hand clasps his shoulder comfortingly and he nods a bit, a small smile on his lips.

His eyes trail to Silco and although his mouth purses, the younger man sighs, going for a handshake with the man too.

"Good to see you on our side, Silco."

"Good to see you've grown, although I wish it wasn't as painful as it looks like it has been. We're glad to have you back around, you were always one of the only trying to make Zaun more comfortable back then. Even through the manipulation and mind games the council subjected you to."

"Thank you. I'm glad to see you healthier. And happier." Silco nods, his eyes gazing at you from the side as his hand clasps around yours.

"Come on Golden Boy, explain us the game plan." A friendly smile stretched on your face, exhausted from pain and the war you've been thrust into so quick into your recovery.

You three make your way to the table, greeting the others. Jinx holds Isha close in her lap, the child focused on Silco and you as she waves, the man next to you waving back with a warm smile, his arm around your waist as he pulls a chair out for you. You turn and kiss him before sitting, him soon following next to you. Sevika smirks, an eyebrow raised at the scene while she flicks her lighter to light the cigarette between her lips, a cigar sliding to her ex boss before he lights it too. A soft groan passing by his lips at the first inhale as he puts the stick to your lips, the smoke filling your mouth with woodsy, spicy notes.

Then Jayce takes his place, standing and hunched over the table, two hands bracing him. His expression is grave, eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed and pulled down as if gravity itself affected his entire being down to every part of his face. His shoulders heave along with with his armor clad chest, eyes dark before he shakes his head as if clearing his mind from unneeded…no, unwanted, thoughts.

"As you can see, a lot is wrong." The lot of you nod. "The arcane that I wished to use to help the world, help Zaun, has backfired on us. More than a simple energy, it is a capricious, chaotic entity, and it has turned its back on us while also helping me see the way ahead clearly. My ex-partner, Viktor, has lost himself to its call after I saved him from death using the Hexcore, a self learning rune that we have created thinking it could revolutionize the world."

The air grows heavy, so Viktor did die that day at the council, but Jayce Talis, the man looking so solemn and worn before your eyes, had brought him back using a tool they've made to heal and save.

"The arcane corrupted him?" The man nods at your voice.

"Yes. The Hexcore, through whatever means and whatever Viktor did to it to save himself, had developed an obsession with him. A self learning rune soon becoming a sentient being. It saved him, but the cost was eating away at his humanity, his feelings, all that made him himself. I…that night where it all went down, when you've lost your limbs, I killed him. Yet the arcane flowing through him kept him alive, and his corrupted mind has lost itself fully to the unfeeling chaos that magic was pulling him towards. His healing was true, but his powers made everyone into a hivemind, that he now plans to use to evolve humans into mannequins. Not able to tire, be hungry, or even feel. He calls it the glorious evolution. And now fully believes that this is the only way to heal humanity of any ailment, any impurity..any imperfection."

He nearly spits out, eyes turning to you with nothing but guilt as he observes your body but you shake your head, a hand raised to wave him off. No matter what qualms you could have against him, the man clearly knows more than you and if a few body parts were the cost for freedom and safety then so be it.

"What is your plan then, Man of Progress?" Sevika calls out.

"We've recruited and trained willing civilians from both of our cities, yet we know that it won't be enough. Not against an army of nearly unbeatable constructs, nor against a Noxian army. Ambessa, true to her nature, stands by his side to achieve whatever plan she seeks to see through. And we cannot let that happen. Not only for Zaun and Piltover. But for the whole of Runeterra. Violet, Caitlyn and the rest of the strike team will lead the new allied forces up in Piltover while I go to the Hexgates, alone. I will shut them down to take more precautions against Viktor, and I'll be the one to fight him. To…kill him."

His voice nearly shakes at the end, breathy yet choked. But he remains steadfast.

"I thank you, leaders of Zaun, for heeding my call. No matter our differences and our nations' history with one another. We will need all of the people we can get to fight this war, no matter who they are or where they're from. While Piltover will have our main force, you will be our back up, our joker card. Prepare yourselves and stay on guard because as soon as the tides turn against us and our Hextech and manpower cannot hold against theirs anymore, you will come into play. As both distraction and a second wave of allies."

"What's in it for us, Golden Boy?" Jinx calls out, violet eyes trained on the broken man at the head of the table.

"Zaun will obtain free trade routes, blanket amnesty and sovereignty. Hextech is to be destroyed after the battle is won."

"If it is won." Silco adds from besides you and Jayce nods heavily.

"Noxian soldiers are more war machine than human, they do not fear death and they march into the fray with a passion so burning that their steps might as well singe the ground they walk on." You add. "But what of the mannequins, what are those constructs like Jayce?"

"They're agile and quick, beyond anything human, and hold a strength and durability that made the one I've gotten rid of hard to kill even with my hammer. I've had to fight alongside Mel who…is also a mage, for it to even begin to crack."

You run a hand over your face, the other Zaunites looking as distraught as you while all of you take the information in.

"So you expect us to waltz in, us normal humans with basic weapons and no magic, to kill those things?" Sevika scoffs.

"It's the only way. We can try to hold them off as long as possible until my fight with Viktor ends. I won't let myself lose, and if I do…I'll take him down with me, no matter what." His voice grows more and more somber.

"No matter what we think, we have to get in on this. Plus, we've already all rallied our people to the cause. You'll have our help Jayce, not simply out of need but also out of respect. A truce that will lead to a betterment of our lives, all of them. We will not lose, no matter how many people we lose, no matter if we die too, we will not permit this to happen. Not under our watch. We will look the wolf right in its ugly maw and refuse its terms, and it will have to accept."

Your voice rings in the greenhouse as you stand.

"This is bigger than any of us and you will have our support. Will we have yours?"

"You always did."

"Then it's settled. When do you plan on getting to the Hexgates?"

"Right after our meeting is dismissed."

"Jinx." She turns to you, Isha in her arms looking at Jayce with big amber eyes, respect swirling within them.

"Yes?"

"Do you have the Firelights in on the plan?"

She smirks, her eyes glowing with mischief. "Something like that, yes."

You eye her suspiciously, looking at the green paint on her and Isha's clothes in hourglass shapes before your gaze widens.

No, that can't be.

From your expression she can tell you've understood. But Silco and Sevika as well as Jayce look to the girl confused and you huff out a laugh.

"Let's just say you'll get airborne support." That kid. Her and Ekko, the leader of the Firelights who also apparently came back from the dead, will never stop surprising you.

"Then, council dismissed." Jayce's voice calls out, everybody hopping out of their chairs to quickly walk out.

You all shake hands, foreheads softly knocking against one another's between Zaunites as you wish your goodbyes, a tight embrace shared between Silco, Jinx, Isha and yourself. Sevika and you hitting your mechanical fists together before you turn to Jayce, holding the man's nape as you place your forehead on his.

"You care about him, don't you?"

"More than anything in the world…I started Hextech to help the world, but as time went on…I just wanted to help him more than anything."

"Then there may be a chance for you to sway him. Don't lose hope Jayce. It and love are all we have in this world, all that truly matters. Now go get him, champ."

You clasp a hand on his shoulder firmly and he smiles, tension leaving his body.

"You take care of Silco, yeah?"

"As if you needed to ask. Take care of yourself Talis." His hand clasps around your own shoulder as an answer and a counter and you nod. "Don't worry about me and go fight your war, we'll be by your side."

Yellow and red flares bust in Zaun's metal plated skies, calling forth the Lanes and Children of Zaun factions. The roofs and streets filled to the brim with people ready to fight for their lives, with their lives. Clad in the earthy tones of Zaun, they stand, steadfast, determined, strong willed, looking up to Silco, you, and Sevika for orders that they'll follow no matter the cost.

The fight has already begun, explosions and yells heard all the way from the Entresol level as blood and ash seems to rain. You see bursts of Hextech blue,

"This is it, the moment you've been preparing for, yet at the same time it is nothing like it. You expected a war and it is now delivered to you on a silver plate, yet not against Piltover, but against a common enemy. Ambessa Medarda of Noxus, her armies, as well as the Herald and his constructs plan to pull the world under their thumb and crush it. Severing any ties to our humanity in exchange for gods know what. We will not accept their terms and we will fight." Silco's voice echoes through the heavy air, chemicals and tension feeling like lead in your lungs.

"We, as Zaunites, have always fought for our freedom, always rebelled against the status quo. We were ready for war, for death, always ever since Shurima fell millenniums ago. But today, against this threat, we have to ally ourselves to those who have persecuted us for centuries. And I know how it feels, when we have never been helped, to suddenly be expected to fight with someone you hate. But this is a matter bigger than us, bigger than them, it's a matter that concerns the whole of Runeterra. And we will be there, we will fight, not only as Zaunites but as people of this world! We will go there and we will show the world who we are!"

The people rage at the sound of Sevika's voice, cheering and saluting with all they have.

"And if we die? Then so be it. Our enemy is great, greater than all of us combined. But one thing they don't have is unity, emotion, brotherhood…They lack what has made us into the strong people we are, and we will prove them wrong in underestimating us! But we will. Not. Stop. Fighting. And we won't lose. It is not an option we can afford, it is not an option we will accept! So if you see someone clad in blue? Help them, protect them, fight with and for them. The maws of hell have opened and we are about to march into the fray against demons. So tell me, Zaunites. Will you fight with all you have?" You yell out, fists clenched as you watch the people before you, trying to carve all of their faces into your memory so you would never forget them.

"Yes ma'am!" The voices answer in unison, a symphony of strength led by the baton of hope as Silco, Sevika and you act as the conductors of this orchestra of rebellion.

"Will you step into this battle, knowing you may lose everything, even your humanity?"

"Yes ma'am!" They echo, the sound enveloping the whole of Zaun like a choir.

"Are you ready to fight for the respect you are owed, the life you were never allowed to have? For love that would have been taken away from you?" Silco's hand squeezes your right one, the warmth and weight slowing your racing heart through the sheer comfort of his presence.

"Yes ma'am!" They grow louder, hearts beating in unison like a Noxian war drum, as strong as an army, as ferocious as a pride of lions.

"Then brothers, sisters, let's get ready. For the fight is soon to happen, and our help will be needed. We are the last line of defense this world has, and we will not fail!"

The cheers ring once more as Sevika explains the meet up time. An hour from now, you will march towards Piltover, crossing the bridge as you make your way into battle. Ready to fight and to die for what you believe in, the world.

The walk to the bridge is silent between you and Silco, steps fusing with the crowd behind you in a nearly militaristic cadence. Sevika to your right, her own group following her in the same tempo.

The heartbeat of Zaun.

That is it.

As you're looking to Piltover fighting with all it has you can't help but choke out a sigh.

It's the end of the line.

You shiver, eyes glossing over with tears as you think back to all that you've done, how hard you've fought. From the bowels of hell in the Sump, to the heights of Piltover, you've never stopped fighting. For your life, for your people, and now for the world. It's bittersweet to think that the one good thing you've managed to gain will probably slip away from you in this fight. Not your only friend anymore, but your lover. The man whom you've wanted for the past year, finally yours, yet soon to be taken away by the world which placed him in your careful hands.

Silco, who's been taking care of you as much as you did for him.

Who patched you up after every mission, cooked for you, held you so you could fall asleep and always reminded you to care for yourself. The man who didn't hesitate one bit in following you in your fight for freedom, who didn't waver when your death seemed certain, the man that let you see the good and the ugly parts of him despite his hatred for himself. Just because he loves you.

You hated that it took you so long to realize his affections, yet as his hand griped yours you can't help but be glad that you knew even if it is too late. You regretted all the time you could have spent being his, yet as his regal figure straightened besides you, you're just glad you were by his side the whole time. That you were the reason he healed in the first place.

If you were marching to your death, at the very least the man you loved was by your side ready to die after giving all he had, all those years of silently bubbling rage finally coming to a use as you two burn brightly in the chaos of war.

"My dove."

You turn towards Silco, chest heaving shakily as you try to prepare yourself for what's about to come.

"Yes, Silco?"

His breathing is as heavy as yours, his eye patch gone to let the new scarring flesh and the cerulean blue of his iris show. A new, healed, better Silco.

A man who got back all that he's lost and who was ready to let it all go one last time to fight for what he has always fought.

For love.

"I love you."

"What?" You turn towards him, the words foreign coming from him although he's never hesitated in showing you just how important you were to him through every other way.

"I love you, my dove. If we are to die in this battle, I refuse to let monsters or humans take my confession away from me before I can give it to you."

The glossiness of your eyes blurs, leaving trails of tears behind, carving and eroding at your cheeks as Silco goes to hold your face, his rough hands cradling your cheeks before his forehead knocks against yours.

"I love you too. Beyond what any word can explain, beyond what any action can show."

"I was made to love you, by you. You molded me into a man worth loving, my dove, and I can't ever fathom to be able to show you just how thankful I am for all that you've done, and for allowing me to love you."

He kisses away at your tears before your hands make their way around his shoulder, metal gripping his up do and undoing it so you can tug his hair and make your lips meet.

It's salty, not only from your tears but also his who started flowing like a sudden downpour. You are quite possibly going to lose one another today, but it will not stop you from loving.

Quite the opposite.

Behind you, brothers and sisters embrace, lovers share one last kiss, parents hold their children and friends commit to one last clutch. And when your kiss with Silco ends, you put the inky strands back into their usual bun, caressing his scalp as you go, your gaze shifting to Sevika who stands alone as her group follows yours in its initiative.

"Let's go." You take your lover's hand and drag him to Sevika before you hold her tightly, her arms wrapping around you as you feel her shake in anticipation, in fear.

"I hope our sacrifices will matter." Her voice mutters in your neck, muffled words reaching your ears softly.

"We will make them matter, Sev. For Zaun. For the world." She nods when she pulls back, your metal fist bumping against hers.

"Good luck, sister."

"Same to you, sis." You leave her side as Silco steps forward, right hand clasping Sevika's.

He looks proud, a smile stretching over his lips albeit tired and the woman smirks back.

"You've grown into a leader Sevika, what you should have always been."

"Don't get all sappy on me, Silco."

"What can I say, such times call for a bit of sentimentality."

"Your eye..It's healed?" The man nods, his eyes trailing to you with his ever so loving gaze.

"She's done it, for me."

"Then you better come back from this. There's no letting go anymore."

"Fate will not keep me from happiness anymore, and I will fight for it with all I have. So you do that too, Sevika. We will both see you on the other side."

"You can count on it, old man."

They let go before Silco returns to your side, both group following you three as you march into Piltover.

"Good luck, and thank you all." Silco calls out, voices from behind you responding with grateful words and fearful good luck wishes.

You lean towards the man, left hand holding his right and squeezing to stop the shaking of your body.

"If you die I'll kill you, darling." You tell him softly, his right eye widening, the teal snapping to you before a gentle smirk slices through his face, revealing his chipped teeth.

"I can say the same to you, my dove. Now behave, this is a crucial moment." He teases.

"Bite me."

"Perhaps after we're done and have less of a company." His voice deepens, eyes full of fear and determination yet mischief swirls within their depths, something else following it in the whirlpool of his soul. Something hungry that disappears soon after Sevika steps out of the bridge.

Smoke covers all that you can see, shapes and silhouettes are anything that you can make out, yes figures cut through the fog. Fast, white and gilded, inhumanly human in their shape.

Constructs.

Your chest heaves as your hands reach towards your belt, the Noxian knuckle blades held tightly in your flesh and metal grip.

Suddenly your hair is pulled and lips are upon you once more, the tension at the sudden movement quickly melting as your lips mold against Silco's. The kiss ending with panted breaths as he nods at you, your head replicating the movement as your eyes trail back to the smoke before you.

You catch Sevika's eyes and nod.

"Charge!"

And your body lunges forwards, blades cutting through the air as you make your way into the bloody, chaotic battlefield, war cries escaping your own throat and the other Zaunites'.

The war had begun and you would not fail.

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#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #silco #arcane silco #silco arcane #silco x reader #silco x you #league of legends #silco league of legends #fluff #silco fluff #whatcouldhavebeen #fix it #soft silco #fix it fic #fix it au

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cynthiav06 · 1 year ago

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Do you ever feel like Percy just can't Say No To Annabeth? Like has he ever realized that she isn't good for him? I mean I believe that Annabeth is definitely a Toxic partner and not a good Gf for percy and people say "Oh Percy would no what abuse is because he lived with Gabe" but that is what abuse looks like from an Adult. but Percy has never had a Gf so he would have nothing to compare Annabeth too, so he wouldn't know what a abusive/toxic relationship is, Cause an abusive relationship isn't all about how many bruises the victim has, it's about the control and Power the abuser has on the victim and tbh some of the parts in the book make it seem like Percy is in abusive and toxic relationship and the stuff Annabeth does or how she acts towards Percy and as a Character regardless just doesn't sit right with me and made me not like Percabeth at all

Your question speaks to my soul. Thank you for asking.

Personally, I believe Annabeth as a character devolves as the series progresses, and her worst character flaws are somehow never addressed. The worst is this sense of codependency she projects on Percy.

The Fandom, for some reason, has her put on a pedestal even though it's Percy who gets himself out of most trouble, who makes the most strategies, and takes the most efforts. Even Rick's demigod life updates say Percy scores higher in studies than Annabeth.

Yet for someone reason everyone degrades Percy while they worship Annabeth. Nothing ticks me off more. The only thing Annabeth has on Percy is her extensive knowledge and nothing else, yet every character behaves as if Percy would be nothing without Annabeth. Nothing nothing could be more wrong.

The Fandom is so eager to call out every character's flaws, yet Annabeth's are never addressed. The toxic and possessive way she acted throughout the Battle of Labyrinth towards Percy, treating him as if she owned him and her repulsive behavior towards Rachel, should have been Percy's greatest Red flag.

Not to mention Percy gets taken to Romans, his memories taken and altered by Hera left to fend off for himself and Annabeth shows no lick of understanding or supportiveness to Percy's troubles not just then but ever.

Not only that, she had the blatant audacity to criticize Percy for leaving her as if it were a choice on his part.

Annabeth literally spends the start of The Last Olympian in which Percy is dealing with the immense pressure of his looming death and the fate of the world being oh his shoulders and she is neither supportive nor understanding when he is reasonably panicking but also instead gets mad at him.

All in all, Annabeth spends the entirety of their relationship complaining, projecting unreal expectations on Percy, being controlling and toxically possessive.

I could rant all day about it, but essentially, Percy's first intimate connection with any woman other than his mother was with Annabeth.

Everyone knows Percy's deep deep seated self esteem issues, so in his mind Annabeth is too good for him, and he doesn't deserve her. Annabeth should be proving to Percy how awesome and great he is, how they both are equally deserving of each other instead of further worsening his self-esteem.

But Percy is so afraid of losing her that he goes by whatever she says. Rick himself literally writes how relaxed and better Percy feels with Rachel yet never mentions it ever again.

I agree that Annabeth was understandably terrified in Tartarus but by what right does she make Percy promise to not use a power he would obviously need for self defense, a power that just got them out alive from a Primordials clutches?

There's not one thing Annabeth has done that is truly selflessly for Percy. Yes she took a knife for him which is very good of her but honestly are you telling me anyone who has traveled with Percy for so long for whose sake Percy has frequently risked his own life wouldn't do the same?

Aside from that one action, Annabeth has never never done anything purely out of consideration of Percy's comfort , his trauma, and his insecurities.

She plays by fear as Percy says he has a healthy fear of her. There's no such thing as healthy fear. No healthy relationships should contain a hint of fear.

So yes Percy can't say no to her because he fears no one would love him if Annabeth doesn't, he never wants to lose her believing her to be the only person that would accept him despite all his flaws. And these delusions make him agree to everything Annabeth says. This is both wildly untrue and extremely toxic and unhealthy in a relationship.

#percy and annabeth literally have a relationship based on shared trauma #anti annabeth chase #anti percabeth #percy and annabeth #they are not healthy #Percy's trauma #tartarus #Annabeth and Percy's issues #percabeth is not IT #perachel #percy and sally #percy jackson and the olympians #battle of the labyrinth #pjo rants

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user2772636 · 1 year ago

Text

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

You can't deny beauty, so don't do it at all. Some time is spent at the beach with a boy you're trying to quietly reject. Begging, though pitying, looks good on our one-eyed boy.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: boys being boys (ft. grown ass men), swearing, sl?!t shaming, bullying, smoking, angsty-er than normal

Also, another reference, now from the show Normal People and the movie (500) Days of Summer

===

Song: Salvatore by Lana Del Rey

(For some reason, I can't display it. Sorry about the technical difficulties.)

===

Chapter seven: Salvatore

===

I walk the unfamiliar streets of the town, only now headed this way. I was instructed by my mother to pick something up from a lady's house this morning, specifically a box of sweets.

It was delivered to the wrong address, and my mother got in contact with the company, which gave her the contact number of the address they gave it to, and the two women made arrangements.

I look up at the plain white door with embedding, knocking on it gently. I hear footsteps from inside, then the door opens with a creak.

"Good morning, ma'am. I was sent by my mother, Julliete Pardine." The woman smiles down at me, the elevation of her house making her taller.

"You must be Y/N. Come on in." She ushers me inside, opening the door wider. I take careful steps on the stairs, eyeing my feet to not fall and embarrass myself. Looking up was something I regret.

In all his glory, after being completely ignored for two weeks, Joseph Descamps stands in front of a drawer and mirror, eye wide open, mouth parted slightly, and looking as pretty as he always did.

I get snapped out of my trance when the woman, now I know as Mrs. Descamps, hands me the box of cookies.

"Now, Y/N, where do you study? I hope I'm not making you late this morning." I turn my focus to her, ignoring the butterflies wanting to escape my stomach through my throat.

"You're not. I study at Voltaire." Mrs. Descamps' eyes widen like her sons, and she smiles a bright smile.

"Oh, what a coincidence. My son goes there, too. Maybe you could walk each other. It's always good for a girl your age to have some company when walking the streets. Maybe you already know each other?" She glances at her son, nodding her head towards me. I look at Joseph, and something reminds me of a promise I made him before.

We're sitting on my bed, writing some notes for Maths. Joseph's voice comes alive.

"Hey, what do you think will happen to us in college?" I look up from my paper, eyeing Joseph steadily.

"What kind of question is that? You're thinking about college already?" I don't mention the fact that he's thinking about us two when talking about what'll happen.

"Well, you know, since schools are mixing boys and girls now, and it's going pretty well, so in college, it might be continued. I just wanna know if we'll still be... friends." I scoff slightly, letting go of my pencil to reach for his free hand.

"Joseph, let me assure you we'll still be friends. I promise." Joseph looks at me, squinting his eyes and pursing his lips. I tilt my head in worry.

"But... what if we don't end up in the same college? And when you're with your new friends, then you see me, you'll act like you never knew who I was?" I scan his face, his beautiful face, biting gently on my bottom lip. I caress his hand with my thumb.

"I would never act like I don't know you." I say in a whisper. He doesn't say anything after that, collecting my words somehow.

"Can you promise that, too?" I smile gently at him, lifting his hand up to my lips, kissing his rough knuckles.

"I promise."

I would've never thought what might happen in college happens so soon.

So when I look at him, all I can think about is his soul, and that even in a matter of weeks, it's filled me whole.

"Yes. We know each other." I look at Mrs. Descamps again, and her face lights up brighter than before.

Her son looks like her. The way both their eyes wrinkle a bit under when they smile, the way their cheeks shows lines, and the way their eyes light up. I barely see that in him anymore. And the last time I did, it was with me.

"Good. He shall walk you to school this morning." She walks to her son now, grabbing his arm to drag him closer to me. I don't look him in the eye, my heart still aching from the afternoon in the alley.

I can sense him tilting his head, brows etched in worry and body leaning towards me. He feels so warm even from far away. I want him closer.

"Anyways, I made you a sandwich for lunch. I know what food's like at school." Mrs. Descamps tells her son. I look at her now petite image, even more small when standing next to her child. Well, if he even is a child anymore.

"Thanks." He replies simply, head down. I try my best not to hold him like I used to. To ask him what's wrong.

"I saw the ophthalmologist. He thinks it's time." I furrow my eyebrows, not sure what type of doctor that is.

"Oh, yeah?" Fuck. Why'd he have to say it like that? Butterflies fill my stomach again. Not here. Not infront of his mom, for fucks sake.

"They've made great strides." She ruffles his hair. Damn, I used to do that. I miss it. "They can match your eye colour exactly now. You can't tell the difference."

"Have you ever seen someone with a glass eye? One eye moves, the other doesn't." Oh, so that's what this is about.

His mother cups his face. "My son is not a pirate. You'll be handsome again." I speak before I think.

"Your son is handsome." They turn their heads to me, and I flush in embarrassment. I finally look at Joseph, and there's a glimmer of hope in his eyes. His cheeks are flushed like mine, and he searches my face.

"Well, I'm glad you think so. But I think he should get it anyway. The mother knows best, like they say." Joseph doesn't even turn his head to his mother's direction. He doesn't even hear her. All he's looking at is me, and I can't find myself to look away.

"Well," I stutter out, looking to Mrs. Descamps. "It was nice to meet you. See you soon, ma'am." She smiles at me, rubbing my shoulder gently.

"Would you like to come to dinner tonight? I'm making a roast." Before I could answer, Joseph does it for me.

"Mama-" I cut him off. "Yes. Sure, ma'am. I'll come for dinner." I say, placing the box of cookies in my satchel. She laughs in glee.

"Alright! That's settled then. Now get going, or your teachers will have a field day with you two." She ushers us to the front door, closing the it once we're outside. I glance at him for a second, then start walking in a fast pace.

"Y/N!" He calls out.

"Oh, first name basis again? Didn't know we were that close." I say, Joseph catching up to my side.

"Please, I can explain. Let me." I scoff, disbelief in my face.

"No, thanks. Go have some fun with your girlfriend." I try to walk faster, but he catches up anyway.

"She's not my girlfriend, I swear. Y/N, please. You're killing me here." His voice cracks in desperation, and it takes all my strength not to stumble from my suddenly shaky legs.

"Good." He whimpers. Fucking whimpers. Holy shit, please give me strength.

"Y/N. Please. Just, please." I slow down a bit, pitying him.

"You have one minute." I face him, crossing my arms.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Ex then?" He shakes his head profusely.

"No. I don't even know her. She just came up to me and started getting all over me."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Please do. Because I swear on my life, Y/N, I would never do that to you."

"But you did. You did when you were talking shit about me to your friends. You did when you let her get all over you." He doesn't speak, and my throat goes dry.

"Exactly. So don't even fucking talk." I turn around and walk away, tears pooling my eyes. I can't believe him. I can't believe me.

××《☆》××

I stand next to Simone in front of the gate, tapping my foot against the gravel.

"What are we doing here again?" I ask, seeing Simone bite her lip in anxiety.

"We're waiting for-" Simone cuts herself off, shouting for Michèle. I walk towards the both of them.

"Michèle, it's been weeks. How long will you be mad?" I delay behind them, trying to give both girls privacy.

"How long have you been seeing my brother behind my back?" Oh. So they got together. I'm happy for Simone, though I already had an idea, but this was the moment she was dreading to come.

They get through the gate. "I wanted to tell you." Simone explains.

Michèle only glances at her. "You played me for a fool."

It's worrying to see both my closest friends argue because you don't know whether or not they'll recover and stay friends.

"It wasn't like that." Simone breaks my thoughts.

"Does he know about Alain?" Michèle says, seemingly angry if her brother did know.

"Of course not. I never told him anything you shared with me." Simone flushes. "If he knew anything, you'd have known about it." They stop walking. I keep my distance.

"I never said it was Jean Pierre, but the rest was true." Someone calls out for Michèle.

"I miss our talks." That was the last thing Simone said before Michèle got dragged away by some girls.

I walk up to Simone, smiling slightly.

"So..." I pause, looking up at her. "Jean Pierre?"

This gets her so smile a bit, red covering her cheeks.

"Yeah." She tucks her hair behind her ear, and I can't help but giggle at her antic.

"He was Eugène the whole time?" I question. She looks at me with even more red on her cheeks.

"I knew it." We both giggle in our girlish nature as we head inside the school.

××《☆》××

Two beeps are heard outside the gate of Voltaire, and I rush down the ramp. I accidentally bumped into someone, and I say a quick apology. I glance behind me, having to do a double take at the one-eyed boy. I look away quickly, walking to Callum's car.

"Pretty girl." Callum hands me a bouquet of pink tulips, and I smile at the sight of it, forgetting about Joseph for a second. Just a second.

"Where are we headed?" I ask, thanking Callum for opening the passenger's door for me.

"The beach. There's a car meet I was invited to take some photos of. Do you mind?" He opens up the roof, letting the wind outside and the heat hit us.

"No. Don't mind at all. Let's get going." He smiles at me simply, and I fail to notice some things he brought on the back of his car.

The drive to the beach was comfortably quiet, wind messing our hair up, the smell of salt and soil filling our senses.

From up the hill, I see the mounds of cars on the white sand below. I smile at the sight, ready for Callum's lovely rambling of all the different cars.

Callum once again opens my door for me, even rolling on the hood of the car for comedic action. It works, and I laugh at him. All he does is smile, offering his hand out for support.

The rest of the afternoon was spent taking photos of the cars, some of which he asked me to model for him again. I did so, adding some fun with the comfortable aura that surrounded both of us.

We moved the car to an area further from the meet, deciding to go out for a swim. I unfortunately wasn't ready for the trip, not bringing any swimwear, so Callum wastes no time to go to the shops behind us, telling me to get a new pair. He even paid for it, then waited for me to come out.

In Callum fashion, we took more pictures. We went for a swim, him wearing no top and just a pair of shorts. It didn't feel awkward around him. It felt so natural, like I'd known him longer than I do.

So when we finished playing in the salty water, and the sun was setting, we settled down on the mat to watch it.

"Y/N?" I turn my head to him, humming in response.

I see him fidget with his fingers. "I've known you for a while now, and in the time I've known you, it's been the best time of my life."

I get a sense of anxiety in him, so I grab his hand, and it feels familiar to a moment I shared with someone else. I push that thought down.

"Callum, talk to me. Is there something wrong?" He looks up at me, adoration in his brown doe eyes. I've seen that look before. Suddenly the smell of the ocean is suffocating me.

"Y/N, I love you. Nothing will ever change that." I breathe in a shaky breath. "I love that you care and that you're just effortlessly an amazing person." Tears pool under his eyes, and I cup his cheeks as they fall, wiping them away. He cups that hand with his.

"You're amazing, and I would never wanna lose you. I don't want to let you go." He pauses, and I await his next words. "But I have to."

I furrow my brows, wondering what he meant. I nod at him to go on.

"You love him. It's so clear that I'm surprised you don't even know it." My mind blanks.

"And it's completely fine. You don't have to worry about me, because if you'll let me, I'll stay, and I'll love you while you love him." He sniffles, and my heart breaks for him.

The sky is orange, with pinks and blues popping out through some clouds. The ocean waves crash against the white sand, foam popping as it loops back. I can hear our hearts beating, our breaths shaking, and our skin grasping at the other.

"Callum, please don't hate me." He chuckles, kissing the inside of my hand.

"I could never hate you, pretty girl." Tears seep out of my eyes as it did his, and he hushes me, pulling me in his bare chest, caressing my back as I sob apologies to him.

It goes on for a while, and we sit there, the sun gone, cars revving in the distance, waves crashing, seagulls squawking, the moon shining on our bodies, and tears as salty as the sea.

When we pull away, he cups my face and stares. He stares at me with a smile, his broken heart still beating. And I look at him like he's a saint. And he is.

We don't talk on the way home, still a comfortable silence between us. As we stop walking infront of my flat, he says something to break the long silence.

"Still up for tomorrow?" I nod. I had told him this morning that I had some errands to run. He agreed to take me around town. I'm glad he still wants to come through.

Before he walks away and disappears around the corner, I call out for him. He turns around, hand in his pockets.

"You know I love you too, right?" He smiles that sweet smile. I can't help but do the same. He walks back to me slowly, cupping my cheek like he did in the beach.

"I know." He whispers, leaning in to kiss my forehead, lingering. He pulls away, still smiling, and walks away for good.

I get in my flat, closing the door and looking at George.

"I don't wanna talk about it." He meows. I lift him up to go cuddle in my room.

××《☆》××

The next day goes through smoothly. Callum picks me up at the end of the day. We stopped by my flat first, and I picked George up, deciding to finally take him out of the house.

The first stop was the pharmacy, and the person I've been dreading to see was there. I asked Callum if he needed anything, and all he does is shake his head. I open the door with George in hand, standing eye to eye with the taller boy.

"Descamps." I say in greeting. He's heaving, eye scanning my frame like he always does. I purse my lips, greeting the pharmacist. The pharmacist greets George, seeing I've brought him around from time to time. George was basically a regular here.

"Pardine." He greets, but his voice shivers. I almost ask him what's wrong, 'till I remember.

George wriggles out of my arms and into his. He loses his balance a bit, regaining it as he holds George like a baby, like he did before. Fuck, I miss him.

"Hello, George." He smiles softly at the cat, and I can't help but melt internally. I take a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. He's holding him so gently, and my heart pound in my chest. Hard.

I grab my things from the pharmacist, thanking them quietly before trying to get George. He growls at me, and I stare at him in shock. Joseph looks up at me. When I look at him, I don't look away immediately.

"I can take him to your car." He says in an almost whisper, turning his head down. He's so shy, and I just want to hold him.

Before we could get out, Michèle goes through the door of the pharmacy. I smile at her gently, greeting her a hi. She greets me back. I wait for her, wlaking with her outside.

"Laubrac, what a surprise." She says, and I roll my eyes at her. She looks at me sheepishly, making a pointed look at Joseph. I understand the sign.

"Did you plan to meet here?" I wave at Laubrac, and he smiles, cigarette in between his fingers.

"What are you doing here?" Joseph asks Laubrac as he eyes the boy up and down, the shy demeanourhe had with me long gone. George is still in hand, but now he carries him with one arm.

"My parents' butcher shop isn't far." Michèle cuts in. "I have to go, or my mom will kill me. See you at school." She bids off to the three of us.

"Aren't you working with your chickens today?" Joseph asks Laubrac, and I glare at his rudeness. He doesn't notice.

"Even farmhands get time off." Laubrac answers simply. There's a pause.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow." Laubrac walks off now, leaving me and Joseph infront of the alley.

"Let's just go." I walk to Callum, seeing him smoking a cigarette in the car, window opened slightly. He spots the two of us and unlocks the door. Joseph's quick to open it for me, and I just look at him, flushing at the gesture.

"Thanks." I whisper, ducking my head to get seated. Joseph crouches down, kissing George's head, and placing him on my lap.

"Joseph. Long time no see." Callum raises a hand in greeting, throwing the dead cigarette out his open window.

"Callum. Saw you pick her up yesterday. Where were you guys headed?" Joseph raises a brow, some sort of annoyance in his voice.

"Took her to the beach to a car meet. Did some swimming, she learnt something about me, and I told her something about herself." Callum puts simply.

Joseph doesn't like his answer. "Told her something about herself, huh?"

Callum notices his tone and chuckles. "Yeah. Something she needed to set straight. You know, something she knows deep down, but she's not doing anything about it." Joseph's gripping hard on the door handle, his knuckles going white.

"And what would that be?" Callum smiles at him.

"Can't tell you. Only she can. Actually, you can probably help her out with it. I'm sure you're feeling the same way she does." That's when I whip my head to face the boy, face as red as a ferrari, heart beating faster than a race car. Sorry, Callum's rambling is affecting me.

"Yeah? What's she feeling? I doubt that it's anything bad, considering that's not how I feel about her." Joseph looks at me, leaning against his now crossed arms in the window shield. With both boys' attention on me, my breathing hollows.

"It's nothing. Bye, Descamps." Callum chuckles, getting the car to start, then beeping it at Joseph as a goodbye. Once we're far away enough, I hit Callum on the shoulder.

"What was that for?" I scream out, embarrassment flooding off of me. Callum won't stop laughing.

"Oh, come on. You two knuckleheads should just get together! You're so obviously in love." I groan, covering my face with my hands. George meows at me.

"I can't believe you, Callum."

"Plus, summer's in a few. You're gonna have to tell him before you leave." Shit. Summer. Paris. I haven't told him yet.

"Fuck. I hate that you're right." I think for a while. "But we're still on bad terms!"

"You just want to be on bad terms because you don't wanna confront him about it. I can see, very clearly, actually, how much you guys want to be together."

His response makes the gears in my head turn. He's right, I admit it. But how do I tell him? When? Where?

Then I remember the girl, and he'll probably forget about me before I even leave. He won't notice that I'm gone.

So, now that I think about it, it won't be so hard. So why can't I bring myself to be relieved? As if I want it to be hard. For him to beg for me not to leave. Not to go. Not to move.

Because if I do, I'll forget about him. But I could never forget him, no matter how hard I try. Because he's Joseph Descamps, the boy who I love too much for my own good. The boy with one eye. The boy I think about when looking at the future. The boy that will always stay in my mind, heart, and soul.

It'll be easy. If not for me, for him. He'll fall in love with some girl, marry her, live with her, have a family with her, grow old with her. Then I'll just be there, thinking about him day and night, counting the endless possibilities and what ifs.

And if I had just realised earlier, told him earlier, loved him earlier, then maybe, just maybe, I'd be happy.

That's not the case. Not now, not ever. And I'll have to live with that 'till the day I die, with him in mind.

××《☆》××

There was a test that morning. Laubrac came in late. We finished the test. The day ends. It was simple. Quiet. But, chaos came in an errand again.

Joseph walks into the butchers, and I internally gape at the sight of him. He's so, so beautiful. I think I might cry. I can't even describe how beautiful he looks right now. I wish I could kiss that patch again. Cup his face with my hands again. Brush his hair, hold his hand, and feel his lips on mine.

The store is quiet, and customers look at the walking image of beauty, including Michèle's mother. She calls out for her husband.

I just stare at Joseph. He doesn't notice I'm there, fully focused on the couple.

"I hear the Magnan's like to sleep with foreigners and thugs." I furrow my eyebrows, frustrated at the juncture.

"You're the only thug here." I keep my eyes on Joseph, trying to figure out his next move.

"The thug is that foster kid sleeping with your fifteen year old daughter." Joseph answers. I purse my lips disappointedly.

"You didn't know?" He says, acting all innocent. "I'm sorry, but it's true. Your son's too busy fooling around with a foreign girl to warn you."

What the actual fuck. What's gotten into him?

"Get out!" Mrs. Magnan says. "It's all lies. Lies!"

He chuckles, and why the fuck is it so attractive?

"Really? If it was, you wouldn't be so upset."

He has a point there, but it's still an asshole thing to do.

"You little shit." Mr. Magnan mumbles.

"Say hi to Jean Pierre for me."

"I'll teach you a lesson!" Mr. Magnan shouts as he walks to the exit, but I beat him to it.

I walk up hurriedly to Joseph, pulling at his shoulder to face me.

"What the fuck was that?" I shout, anger pounding jn my veins.

"It's true, and you know it. Why are you so angry?" He says as if it's simple.

"They're my friends, Joseph! Why the fuck wouldn't i be upset about it?" I push his chest.

"Back to first name basis, Y/N? Go back to your boyfriend and talk about those feelings of yours." This makes my hear shatter against my chest.

"For the last time, he isn't my boyfriend."

"Why does it seem that way, huh? Do you like leading people on? Should've known. Went through it anyway!" He starts to walk away.

"You go back to your girlfriend, asshole!" He turns around and flips me off.

I fight the urge not to just sob in the middle of the street. Unbeknownst to me, he feels the same, too.

××《☆》××

I received a call in the house as soon as I get home. I pick it up, wiping the tears on my cheeks.

"Hello?" I try to hide the shake in my voice.

"Y/N, darling? This is Mrs. Descamps." Shit. Worst timing.

"Oh, good afternoon, ma'am. Is there something wrong?" I ask, worry etching my voice.

"Well, I meant to ask if you were still coming tonight. But there's also something else I wanna talk about." I furrow my brows, sniffling a bit.

"Um, sure, I'll still go." I shut my eyes in regret. I should've said no. "What is it you want to talk about?"

"Well, Joseph came home a bit gloomy. He hasn't come out of his room, and whenever I ask him what's wrong, he just tells me off. I'm worried, you know, as a mother is, and I was wondering if anything happened at school." My heart aches for the woman.

"Well, to be honest, ma'am, I think it's better if you ask him. I don't want to say anything I'm not supposed to."

"Oh, well, that's alright." There's a lace of disappointment in her voice. "Well, I'll see you later, darling. Come by 7 or later." We bid each other goodbye and hang up.

I put my pearl necklace on, the item in contrast with my red dress. It's quite formal, but that's what you wear for dinner, right? There's a semi-big bow on the back, wrapped around my waist like a present.

Time passes as I get ready. The whole time, my heart pounded in my chest. I'd have to see him again. Talk to him. And after that argument.

So when I arrive and knock on the door, and Joseph answers, my heart stops its beating.

Thankfully, Mrs. Descamps ushers me in her home once again, and we're at the dinner table, eating silently. Well, just Mrs. Descamps really. Me and Joseph don't touch our food, keeping our head down.

"Something wrong with the food, children?" Mrs. Descamps says, and I'm quick to dismiss the idea, not wanting her to feel down about it.

"There's nothing wrong with the food, ma'am. I just... I ate a bit before coming here." I take a hold of her hand, reassuring her.

"Oh, that makes sense." She grabs her sons hand. "What about you, my angel? You haven't eaten anything when you got home."

I glance at him in worry, his eye catching me. We put our heads down at the same time.

"Just no appetite, Mama." He purses his lips at her.

"I hope you're not mad about earlier. I won't make you get the glass eye anymore." She looks at me again, a mischievous smile on her face. "At least Y/N here thinks you're beautiful." I flush at the mention of the incident, wanting the ground to swallow me whole.

"Good. That's the only opinion that matters." He whispers to himself, but I heard it clear.

"So," Mrs. Descamps drops both our hands and gets back to eating. I start on my plate, too. "Is there something you two want to tell me?"

I blush profusely. "What do you mean, Mrs. Descamps?"

"Well, there's obviously something between you two." Mrs. Descamps shrugs. Joseph calls his mother out, and I flush even more in my seat.

"Okay, just because I'm old doesn't mean I don't know what love looks like. Me and your father-"

"Mama, please stop." Joseph groans through his hands, Mrs. Descamps laughing at her son.

"Okay, fine. I'll talk to you later." Mrs. Descamps winks at her child, then suddenly, the air isn't so suffocating anymore.

When dinner ends, Mrs. Descamps makes Joseph walk me out. We're outside their house now.

"She doesn't know about your girlfriend?" I put simply, not letting him know my heart is in shambles. He rolls his eye at me, and I have a feeling it'll make his head ache soon.

"She's not my girlfriend." I hear feet pattering against the dark cobble stone street. I turn my head, and there she was. The girl we were just talking about.

"Well, she doesn't think that." I observe her nice puffy dress, jewellery shining from the moonlight, her hair done up. She even has a bit of makeup on. I smile at her, turning back to Joseph, but not looking in his eyes.

"I called her to meet here." Joseph states, and I chuckle. He seems to have gotten what it was I was chuckling about. Tears rim my eyes in frustration.

"It's not what it seems like-" I quickly cut him off, passing by the girl in a hurry.

I hear him call out my name, and I almost trip at the desperation of it. He's always giving off the idea that he wants me, but in the end, I realise I'm in a loophole and I'm finally aware I've been a fool.

I hate Joseph. I hate his toothy smile. I hate his messy ash hair. I hate his towering frame. I hate the dirt colour eyes he has. I hate the way he walks fast with his long legs.

Fuck. Why does it always end like this? I always say I hate him, then I don't, then, like a loop, I do. When will it end? When will I finally decide how I feel?

For now, it's all his fault. It's his fault for making me feel this way. His fault for being so pretty it hurts. His fault for being so... so... Fuck.

Just plain fuck.

××《☆》××

End- Chapter seven: Salvatore

Next- Chapter eight: Joseph, Joseph, Joseph

××《☆》××

DONE W THIS CHAPTER AND ONLY 3 MORE CHAPTERS TO GO!!! We've come so far and my heart hurts for the both of them but it's part of the process. To all the Callum haters, I told u guys u would regret hating on him. We love Callum and I don't accept the hate. So guys love him pls he needs it. Anwww happy reading (not so happy this chapter is pure angst)

#joseph descamps #joseph descamps x reader #mixte1963 #michèle magnan #simone palladino #jean pierre magnan #alain laubrac #enemies to lovers #fanfic #reader insert #angst #cars #salvatore #lana del rey #one sided love #rejection

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