#imagine they do find her cold lifeless body and break down besides her

[sefynarose]

Thinking of all the times MC didn’t come back to the boys 😃

[theconstructorr]

Episode 6: Dark Cupid

A stunning woman, admired for her beauty despite being in a committed relationship, finds herself caught in a web of jealousy and envy. One evening, she accompanies her boyfriend and his parents to a restaurant. When she and her mother-in-law find themselves alone, a man approaches the woman, hitting on her. She politely rejects him, mentioning she has a boyfriend. The mother-in-law, simmering with jealousy, watches with disdain.

Returning to the table, the girlfriend and her boyfriend share unexpected news: she's pregnant. The mother-in-law, her anger bubbling over, later tells her son to kill the woman. He agrees, and the sinister plot unfolds. The girlfriend is lured to visit the in-laws, only to be murdered on the way there by her brother-in-law.

Late that night, her boyfriend calls, frantic when she doesn't return. Panic sets in when he calls the police, and the next day, they confirm her body has been found. He is devastated, his world shattered.

The next day in Ms. Bustier's class, the students are assigned Sleeping Beauty by Charles Perrault. Marinette shares with Alya her love for fairytales as they leave class together. In the hallway, they see Adrien, surrounded by Chloe and Sabrina. Alya scowls, but Marinette's gaze lingers, envy tightening her chest. Alya notices, warning her to stop. Marinette feels ashamed, but Chloe catches her eye and smiles wickedly.

Later, the boyfriend visits the mortuary to see his girlfriend's lifeless body. Overcome with grief, he cries for her and their unborn child.

In Ms. Mendeleiev's class, Chloe grabs Marinette's hand, pulling her aside when everyone else leaves. With a smug smile, Chloe says, "We should be friends."

"What are you talking about?" Marinette responds, confused.

"We have something in common. I'm Adrien's number one friend, and you're his number one fan," Chloe declares, her voice dripping with possessiveness.

Marinette's stomach churns. "You're delusional," she mutters.

Chloe's smile turns cold. "Know your place. Adrien is mine. Stay away from him.”

Chloe leaves, and Marinette stands there, burning with a mixture of anger and confusion. Tikki appears, concerned. Marinette, eyes filled with fury, mutters, "I should've let her stay dead."

"No," Tikki says softly, "don't say that. Remember what Adrien told you? If she bothers you, talk to him."

"But Chloe's right," Marinette sighs. "She's his best friend. Besides, I won't ever get the chance to talk to him."

Back at home, the boyfriend is surrounded by his family. His mother feigns sympathy, but he sees right through her. When she makes a cruel joke about his girlfriend's death, he snaps, attacking his mother in a fit of rage. His siblings pull guns, holding him at bay. His grief turns to sorrow, and he breaks down in tears, his anger giving way to hopelessness. It is then that the darkness overtakes him, and he is Akumatized.

Pain rips through him as dark wings grow from his back. His family flees in terror, but he chases them, shooting arrows that pierce their hearts. They fall, dead, one by one.

At school, Adrien and Chloe are together again. She flirts relentlessly, pulling him into a closet, eager for a kiss. Adrien hesitates but then succumbs to the moment. But as their lips meet, he imagines Ladybug instead, and the kiss feels hollow. Chloe pulls back, her voice full of self-satisfaction. "Don't you think we make the perfect couple?"

"Yeah, sure," Adrien replies, his mind elsewhere.

"Want to come to my house?" she asks, undeterred.

"Why not," Adrien says, deciding he could use Chloe for his own ends. He's tired of waiting for Ladybug.

Meanwhile, Marinette is at home, doing her homework and reading Sleeping Beauty. Tikki smiles at her enthusiasm. "I've never seen you so excited about homework."

"I love fairytales," Marinette admits, lost in thought. "I used to imagine I was the princess, saved by a prince."

"Is Adrien your Prince Charming?" Tikki asks, playfully.

Marinette blushes. "No, he's more than that."

"Well, I'd say Cat Noir is more like Prince Charming," Tikki teases.

"Really?" Marinette asks, surprised.

Tikki nods. "Think about it. All the times he's saved you. He's been more of a Prince Charming than Adrien."

"I still want Adrien to be my Prince Charming," Marinette replies softly, a sigh escaping her lips.

Adrien, meanwhile, is at Chloe's hotel, but something feels wrong. As he walks toward the elevator, it opens, revealing a woman lying on the floor. Her face has been blown off, blood everywhere. Adrien recoils in disgust, his hands covered in her blood. Then, everything goes black.

When he wakes up, Chloe is there, worried. Adrien brushes it off, but his mind is racing.

Later, as he ascends the stairs to his room, his gaze falls on the painting of him and his father hanging on the wall. But before he can look away, the painted figure shifts—his father's image warps into something unrecognizable. The man in the frame becomes a faceless, demonic figure, his eyes voids of darkness. With a guttural snarl, the figure leaps from the canvas, lunging toward Adrien with a horrifying, otherworldly force. His mother's cries echo in his ears, and Adrien is torn between fury and sorrow.

Just as he thinks he can't take it anymore, his mother, now appearing to comfort him, suddenly slits his throat. Adrien falls, blood spilling everywhere.

He wakes again, startled, as Nathalie shakes him awake. He is frantic, his thoughts racing. Later, after Nathalie has gone, Plagg appears.

"Your house is haunted," he says grimly.

Adrien laughs bitterly. "Is it really?"

"I think so," Plagg responds. "Alya got possessed here, and now you and your dad are too."

Adrien, frustrated, mutters to himself, "I need Ladybug to fix this place."

But when Ladybug enters his mind, his thoughts drift to her. "I need to tell her how I feel," he whispers.

Meanwhile, Dark Cupid begins wreaking havoc, shooting arrows that turn people into violent, hate-filled monsters. As chaos erupts on the streets, Marinette and Alya are shot. Marinette does everything she can to protect her friend, but Alya dies in her arms.

Heartbroken but determined, she transforms and chases Dark Cupid, dodging his attacks and trying to find a way to stop him. She summons a rifle, but misses. Dark Cupid pursues her relentlessly. Just as she's cornered, Cat Noir appears and shields her, taking the shot meant for her.

Ladybug cries out, devastated, as she falls to the ground. People from the streets run toward her, and in self-defense, she shoots them. It feels wrong, but she doesn't know what else to do.

Cat Noir and Ladybug fight, but the pain of betrayal and confusion makes Ladybug hesitate. He lunges at her, tackling her to the ground. Pinning her beneath him, he tries to position himself to cataclysm her face. But in a split second of clarity, Ladybug grabs his face and kisses him. Dark Cupid freezes, his confusion palpable for a brief moment, and in that instant, the spell over Cat Noir breaks. He deepens the kiss, unable to stop himself.

Suddenly, an arrow pierces through Cat Noir's back, its sharp tip passing through Ladybug as well. They gasp in agony, and the pain intensifies when Dark Cupid steps on the arrow, driving it further into their bodies. As Hawk Moth's voice echoes, commanding Dark Cupid to bring them both to him, Cat Noir's eyes flare with a newfound strength. He grabs Dark Cupid's ankle, unleashing a devastating cataclysm that sends him crashing to the ground. Without hesitation, Cat Noir follows up with another cataclysm, this time targeting Dark Cupid's torso, obliterating him in a flash of destructive energy. Dark Cupid crumples to the ground, lifeless.

Exhausted and drained, Cat Noir collapses beside Ladybug, both of them struggling to roll onto their sides. As they shift, blood drips from Cat Noir's mouth, splattering across Ladybug's face. He winces, apologizing, his breath ragged.

His voice shakes with pain as he tells her what to do, gripping her shoulders, his body trembling as he attempts to push away from her.

Groaning, Ladybug begins to pull away too, her own body screaming in protest. But slowly, painfully, they manage to create enough distance for Cat Noir to reach the arrow. With a final, desperate cataclysm, the arrow dissolves into nothingness.

In the aftermath, Ladybug immediately activates her miraculous, her power surging through the air as she restores everything to its rightful state. The battle is over.

When the deakumatized man asks what happened, Ladybug simply says, "You were under control."

Cat Noir, now himself again, looks to Ladybug, confused. "What happened to me?"

"You were under a spell," Ladybug explains softly.

Cat Noir looks at her, realization dawning. "And you broke it... by kissing me?"

Ladybug blushes, smiling shyly. "It worked."

Cat Noir looks at her with a spark in his eyes. "So, it's true love, then?"

Ladybug smiles, unsure, as the weight of their shared journey settles between them.

Later, as the sun sets over Paris, Cat Noir pulls Ladybug into a quiet moment, confessing his love for her. She's flustered, unsure of her feelings, but in his embrace, she lets herself feel the warmth of his love.

But back home, Marinette sits on her bed, heart heavy. Tikki asks what's wrong, and Marinette confesses her inner turmoil. "I shouldn't have kissed him," she admits, tears welling up.

"Why not?" Tikki asks gently.

"Because I like Adrien," Marinette whispers, voice trembling.

"Then maybe you can like both," Tikki suggests.

Marinette shakes her head, tears falling. "No... I only want Adrien."

Tikki wraps her arms around her, offering comfort, but Marinette can't shake the pain of her unspoken feelings.

[victoriams]

Livinia doesn’t say anything when Maxim reaches for her hand – lets him take it silently and wraps her bony, trembling fingers around his own. There’s a voice that sounds suspiciously like her mother’s, telling her that such a show of affection could be misconstrued as weakness. There’s an instinct to shake Max’s hand off, to berate him for the display of vulnerability – but she shoves this thought down, instead focusing on the way the feeling of another hand in her own grounds her. Places her thumb against Max’s wrist and lets the steady thrum of his pulse soothe her frayed nerves. 

When they were children, it had sometimes felt like she and Max and Auggie against the world. Right now, she can almost imagine they're kids again.

Livinia’s heart thunders in her chest as they make their way to the second floor, her pace quickening with every step in her desperation to find her sibling. To make sure they were okay. Auggie was supposed to be the oldest, the protector, and yet Livinia’s mind can only supply images of them left for dead somewhere, punished for yesterday’s stunt. A warning to anybody else who might think to do something similar. The thought of her sibling’s lifeless body – of having to plan two funerals, instead of one – sends waves of nausea rolling through her, a cold sweat breaks out on her forehead, limbs shaking violently. 

She doesn’t hesitate when they reach Augustus’ door – her knocks quick and frantic as she waits with bated breath. If they’re not here, she’ll need a list of places to check next. She’ll ask Max, he knows Auggie’s friends better than she does. Before they even have a chance to open the door, Livinia is coming up with plan b, and c, and d. Then, the door swings open, and Livinia’s breath hitches at the sight of Augustus – looking tired and groggy but alive. She doesn’t have long to relish in the sight before the door is slammed in her face. She feels Max startle beside her, and she absently rubs soothing circles over his pulse point while they wait for Augustus to return.

Ordinarily, she would have had a few things to say about her sibling’s rather rude display at their front door, but, today, she lets it go. She’s still far too wrecked to worry about Augustus’ idiosyncrasies. She’s far too relieved to see them breathing to scold them about bad behaviour. Part of her wants to wrap them in a hug like she had Max, but she hesitates – instead squeezing her younger brother’s hand for reassurance. 

“I won’t.” She says, her voice sounding odd to her own ears. Soft and vacant, where it is usually sharp and assured. “But we can put down a towel, if it makes you feel better.”

@cfcannons / @reblrths

he’s silent the entire walk there. silent, but holding onto livinia’s hand as though it might ground him. it does, he thinks, because he still feels like he’s not here, like he’s simply following his feet wherever they want to go — aimless. truthfully, maxim was nervous. he felt like he might be sick. less than twenty four hours ago, maxim had been pinned against a wall and been told no one gives a shit about him. he hadn’t had the time to wonder if that had been true, if anyone had even noticed he'd gone missing — well. atlas had — sat outside his door for god knows how long. that was odd. he decides not to think about that too much now, because they -- no, liv finds their door and knocks.

and on the flip side — he’d told auggie everyone they love has a target on their back. maxim doesn’t know about love, but they are family nonetheless. the fact that it had turned out to be true… that didn’t feel real, either. like some fucked up joke played by the gods because how could some stupid argument turn out to hurt more hours after the fact? truthfully — did it matter? whether it was true or not. they’ve been targeted. they’ve always been targeted, their entire family. this was simply bound to happen.

his feet shuffle as they wait outside the door, hand still holding liv’s as if he were a child who might get lost if they strayed too far. he’s never felt more the little brother than he does right now, eyes cast downward until the door opens and it snaps up and closes before he even gets a chance to see them. it only makes him even more scared — he flinches once the door slams. he winces, really, free hand coming up to press to the side of his head that doesn't feel tender. he catches sight of the red marks on his wrists as he raises his arm and shuts his eyes so he doesn't have to look at it. he briefly thinks he needs some type of medicine — then decides he’s never touching another drug again in his life.

when auggie opens the door again, max opens his eyes and looks them over frantically. any sign of anything, any fresh mark, any look of terror, and — nothing. there’s nothing there. not even in their tone, but maxim could never be sure when it comes to that. they are the same in many ways, ways maxim himself cannot even comprehend, sometimes he thinks that’s why they argue so much — the crane's don’t show when they hurt, when they’re upset. but right now, maxim doesn’t have the energy to hide the emotion on his face let alone his tone of voice, of which he cannot find.

he simply stares for a moment. tries to speak, but his mouth just stays open for a little too long. his head is still pounding. steady over the past however fucking long, everything makes it worse. he wants it to stop. he can feel the burn in his eyes, as if he might start crying but he swallows it down. they’re alive. maxim cannot move, cannot find the words, feet firmly rooted, and his grip on liv’s hand tightens.

@victoriams @cfcannons

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

heyo your imagines are amazing and i like reading them so much. i really appreciate you for writing for Alice in borderland as there isn’t a lot of content out there~ can you please write an imagine for niragi where the reader has been at the beach for quite the time and when she gets to know niragi she somehow falls for him because she sees right through him, and that he maybe starts to develop feelings for the reader too because she’s fearless and very confident. if it’s not too much trouble, could you make it a bit suggestive as well? thank you in advance~~

Of course I can! I’m not the best at writing with suggestive themes so I’ll try my best! 😅 I’m sorry but I changed the story line a little bit for it to fit more, so I hope this is still kind of what you had in mind.

Unlovable | Suguru Niragi

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Niragi (ft. Ann, Aguni, Hatter, Mira, Chishiya, Arisu, Last Boss)

Summary: Niragi finally finds you, who loves him for who he is, well, not exactly. And he gets a bit too attached.

Warnings: toxic relationship, suggestive themes, a lot of gaslighting, obsessive themes, a little bit angsty, threatening, choking, swearing, name calling

Word Count: 3.2k

*reader is female

Author’s Note: Sorry this took a while to post. I was busy for the past couple of days so it’s kinda rushed 😣

“Y/N! Come quick!”

You jolted awake as Ann burst into your room, shaking the door frame from the force. You blinked your eyes to adjust to the light, looking at her dazed.

“What?” you murmured, sitting up and out of the comfy sheets on your bed. 

“The executives have called a meeting. They say it’s urgent,” she stressed, rushing up to the side of your bed and ripping the duvet off of you.

You shivered and sighed loudly in disappointment. “Why? It’s too early for this shit,” you whined, rolling back onto your side and closing your eyes again. These urgent emergency meetings have become ridiculous, always taking place in the morning when everyone’s still sleeping. You would gladly have quit having the higher place at The Beach if it meant for you to have some peace and quiet.

“Now!” Ann pushed again. You groaned in annoyance and got out of bed. She seemed serious, so you didn’t want to anger her more.

You both quickly made your way to the top floor where the meeting room for the executives was located. You noticed Ann’s heavy breathing and worried expression, making you anxious as to what she thinks could have happened.

Hatter had left the night before to replenish his visa, having a big celebration as he drove off with Aguni and a few more of his men. Things had been becoming more tense as time went on. It felt wrong watching Hatter drive away so reluctantly. You offered to assist him in his game, seeing as you earned yourself a high number at The Beach from clearing many difficult games yourself. But Hatter declined, insisting that he would return to The Beach safe and sound before you knew it.

But unfortunately, he was wrong.

You and Ann rushed into the large room. You saw Arisu and Chishiya standing near the end of the table placed in the middle of the room. You strolled over to them and laid eyes on the scene before you.

There, Hatter laid dead on the table. Limbs spread out lifeless, skin pale and dead. The horrific sight made you feel sick, making you cover your mouth with your hand. The scene almost felt unreal, this shouldn’t have happened. Hatter wouldn’t be dead if you just went with him.

Ann walked over to his body to examine it, but before she even had the chance to touch the bullet wound embedded in his bare chest, Niragi barged into the room with his usual cocky and obnoxious aura filling the air like a bad smell.

“Oi, don’t touch him as you please. You dissection maniac,” he growled.

Your eyes followed him closely. Now that Hatter was gone, people like him could start dangerous trouble at the hotel. But, as long as you said something about it, you would make sure Niragi wouldn’t start any fires that he’s not willing to put out himself.

After all, you were the only person who knew his true self, and how he perceived everyone around him. It was pathetic really. In a way you took pity on him. Such a simple tactic for the brain to protect itself, become a heartless and cold monster towards others so no one could ever do the same to you again.

With Niragi, unfortunately it was hunt or be hunted.

You kept your strong gaze on him as he lifted his eyes to meet yours from across the table for a hot minute. His dark orbs glistened as they locked with yours, making the tension in the room become thicker as every second passed. He smirked in your direction before turning away.

“He was shot by a gun,” Ann stated, breaking the thick silence in the room. She looked over the small hole in his chest in fascination.

“What will happen to The Beach?” a young man asked who was standing nearby you. You stayed silent, not wanting to start anything that may end in chaos. You always had good points and valid arguments, but sometimes you knew when the best time was to bring them up. This was not it.

“I mean it’s only reasonable for the strongest to become the new leader!” Niragi exclaimed over everyone. “We need someone who can take good care of The Beach and keep order,” he yapped on, swinging his sniper rifle all around making a few people flinch when he aimed it at them.

You rolled your eyes at his behaviour. Trust him to be the most opinionated.

“I say, how about Aguni as our new leader,” he suggested, leaning forwards onto the table and watching everyone like a hawk. Aguni held no reaction, keeping his usual cold stone expression while having Niragi speak for him.

After no one reacted, all looking down to the ground to avoid Niragi’s gaze, he stood up straight and pulled a bored expression. “That’s not a good reaction,” he mocked, “Last Boss?”

You glanced over to where the hooded figure stood, watching in fear as he unsheathed his katana sword and rushed over to Ann, holding the deathly sharp blade a few inches from her throat. Your heart leaped to your mouth. If he was to try anything, you were ready to start chaos.

But nothing of the sort happened. Ann simply sighed frustratingly and held up her hand obediently. Niragi hummed, approving.

“This isn’t a majority vote,” Mira hissed from next to him.

Niragi stood and leaned his face close to hers, holding the barrel of his weapon close to her face to threaten her. “But it is! Isn’t it? After all, you’re all free to vote as well.”

One by one, he slowly circled the table, each person being scared for their life the closer he got to them. But you remained calm next to Chishiya, knowing that considering the relationship you have with Niragi, he wouldn’t do anything that would hurt you. He didn’t have the guts to.

As he moved from Chishiya, he finally locked eyes with you. He quickly strolled up to your still frame, stopping suddenly very close to you in an attempt to make you feel threatened. ‘As usual,’ you thought to yourself. ‘The old “I’m taller and bigger than you so I’m stronger” stupid tactic.’

“And what about you princess? Care to raise your hand for a vote for Aguni?” he hissed into your face. You held your neutral expression, becoming bored from this act he was putting on. It was purely for show, and yet wasn’t everyone’s personality? But Niragi, his act of this scary psychotic man angered you to your core.

“What if I don’t?” you snickered, walking towards him in an attempt of intimidation. He took a step back in shock. “It’s not like you need my precious vote, you already have so many.”

Niragi’s usual cocky smirk melted from his face, turning into a frustrated scowl. You felt him put his rifle underneath your chin, forcing you to lock eyes with him. “Be careful with that tongue of yours sweetheart, you wouldn’t want to lose it,” he growled quietly.

His threat made you smirk, almost bringing butterflies into your stomach. “I think you should be more concerned about that head of yours. You wouldn’t want to get it stuck too far up your own ass.”

You flinched as you felt his rough hand shoot from his rifle to your neck, instantly tightening around your throat making you widen your eyes in surprise. You lifted your arm and gripped his wrist in case he tightened his hold anymore. The look on his face was deathly. If looks could kill, you’d be already a few years into the afterlife.

Chishiya stood beside you watching the whole scene. He knew better than to intervene, as he could tell that Niragi wouldn’t ever intentionally permanently hurt you.

Niragi held you still as he leaned down to your ear, his hot breath hitting your sensitive skin. “Shut your fucking mouth you brat. You wouldn’t want me to hurt you too much later, would you?” You cringed as you felt his tongue slide behind the back of your ear, the piercing making you shiver.

“Niragi,” you heard Aguni say, saving you from the public embarrassment of getting felt up by Niragi in front of everyone you knew. “That’s enough, I think she gets the point.”

Niragi grunted in annoyance before loosening his fist on your neck. You sucked in a huge gasp of air, coughing slightly. Chishiya placed a gentle hand on your back in a sign of care, hoping that you’re okay.

Niragi aimed his rifle lazily at Chishiya’s face. “She’s fine, don’t touch her. A little choking is nothing she can’t handle.”

Chishiya immediately took his hand off of you, being taken back by Niragi’s comment.

You stood up straight after recovering, laying your eyes back on Niragi as he continued terrorizing the executive members.

God you hated that man. You hated how much you loved him.

*************

The room was now empty, consisting of no one except for you and Ann, who was still looking over Hatter’s body for any other injuries. You watched curiously, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

“Seems a bit weird, doesn’t it?” you spoke up through the silence.

“What does?” Ann answered, not bothering to look at you.

“Someone with a hundred percent winning streak dies now? Just as the tension between the militants and the others was getting to its peak?” you questioned.

Ann rolled her eyes sarcastically and turned towards you. “Took you long enough to figure out. Really? You didn’t suspect that from the start? Even after that shit-show that Niragi pulled earlier?”

You were taken back by her sudden anger. Ann never became mad at you, even if she had a legitimate reason to. You looked at her as she stared into your eyes intensely before sighing and turning back to Hatter.

“Sorry Y/N,” she apologized. “I’m just stressed. This shit is getting too heavy to handle, and now with Hatter gone and Aguni in his place, who knows what will happen to people like you, me, Mira, Chishiya and Alice. They could kill us if they want to.”

Her words hit your heart heavily. It was true. Aguni and his militants were never a particularly predictable bunch. And you weren’t exactly on all their good sides, well, except for Niragi’s.

“Sorry Ann,” you muttered out quietly. You thought it would be best to leave her alone. She obviously was quite distraught from Hatter’s death.

You shuffled out of the room, head held low in despair. Who knew what would happen to this place now? It was like a ticking time bomb only no one knew how long there was left until it exploded.

As you walked through the large door frame that led outside of the meeting room, a sudden grip on your arm brought you out of your thoughts and made you yelp. You were yanked into a hard chest, being held close and tight.

“Hey love. How are you feeling?” the person growled. You looked to see it was none other than Niragi himself. Of course it was, who else would treat you so roughly?

You stared into his ominous eyes, trying to read him. He ran his hand down your back slowly causing you to shiver. “Niragi,” you breathed out. You pushed against his broad chest to separate you. “Sorry, but I’m not in the mood right now.”

You stepped away from him and tried to escape down the hall, but he grabbed your hand before you could go anywhere. “Bullshit. You’re never in the mood. And the sass you were giving me in there in front of everyone says otherwise.” He pulled you back towards him, pushing your head onto his shoulder and nuzzling into your neck. “I didn’t like how you treated me, it made me upset.”

He was lying through his teeth, knowing that making you feel guilty for defending yourself against him would bring him more of your attention. Simple gaslighting, worked every time.

You chuckled against him then leaned back and cupped his face with your hands. He held a sad expression on his face, obviously to make you sympathetic.

“You’re such a big baby,” you laughed. “Try to act so tough and dominant in front of everyone, but look at you now. Crying into my shoulder about your feewings?” you mocked him. Niragi scowled and pulled his head out of your hands. “Shut up, as if you’re any better.”

It was true. That’s why you both clicked together. He was a gaslighting maniac who knew how to put up a fake ‘nice guy’ façade around you and you were a tough and snappy woman, who felt much too much empathy for others.

That’s how you fell into his trap. He used your empathy to his advantage, making you fall in love with him so he could have what he’d always wanted. Someone who loves him for who he is, no matter how many masks he had to put on for them.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning up and pressing a small peck onto his lips. “Can you promise me something?” he suddenly asked after you pulled away from his face.

You grew anxious about what he wanted and nodded your head slowly in hesitation.

“When the chance comes, can we leave The Beach together? Like, run away?” he questioned, snaking his arms around your waist and squeezing tightly.

You laughed at his question, making him frown. He was being completely serious. “And go where Niragi? There’s not exactly a place we can go to.”

“Anywhere,” he answered sharply. “We could find a nice little hideout in Tokyo. Just you and me, no one else.” His grip on your waist tightened, making you flinch in his arms slightly.

He could see you tossing between answers. It wasn’t working, he had to try something else. He put on the fakest sad face he could do and pressed his forehead against yours while pouting. “Please? I promise I’ll take care of you.”

You practically melted as his begging. “Okay,” you sighed.

“Promise me,” he reminded you, running a hand through your soft hair.

There was a short moment of silence before you answered. “I promise.”

*************

You laid in your room with the sheets tossed lazily over you. Niragi was called to go talk to Aguni again before he went to sleep, so you were waiting for him.

Your eyes scanned your book quickly, wanting to finish the chapter you were on before Niragi returned. Because god forbid you having your attention on something that wasn’t him when he was around.

You glanced over at the door when you heard it creep open and Niragi stepped in, placing his sniper rifle carefully on the ground nearby and removing his boots.

“You took your time.” you teased, putting your book on the nightstand and sitting up in bed. Niragi groaned tiredly, stumbling over to your shared bed and collapsed dramatically face down onto the duvet. You giggled at him, running a soft hand though his midnight hair and pulling it out of it’s hair tie.

If he was a cat, he swore he could’ve purred at your touch. It made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Not having physical affection for years on end does that to a person.

He sat up and crawled over to you. He grabbed your chin and pressed your lips together roughly, running his tongue across your mouth as he did so. You groaned into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, making him smirk against your lips.

After a few minutes, he detached his lips from yours and started licking and sucking your sensitive skin on your jaw, slowly making his way down your neck. He felt shivers run down his spine as you gripped his shirt in your fist on his back. He loved having this power over you, and having you accept him and love him enough to not fight back.

You leaned your head back and closed your eyes, giving him more access to your neck. As you did so, he placed a hand on your lower back and pulled you towards him, forcing you to lie down on the bed with him hovering over you.

He pulled away from your neck and looked down at you, admiring your anxious expression painted across your face. He chucked. “What’s wrong baby,” he cooed, leaning down and continuing kissing your collarbones.

His voice was dripping in sweetness, so sweet it could’ve made you feel sick. It sounded fake, but you didn’t pick up on it. It was a shame. You saw Niragi as nothing but a victim of his own mind, but you weren’t able to see yourself becoming a victim of it.

“I’m just...” you mumbled out, feeling weak and vulnerable under his touch. “I’m scared Niragi.”

He pulled back again and looked into your eyes with a worried expression. “Why are you scared? It’s just me and you here angel. You’re perfectly safe,” he whispered out, stroking his knuckles down your cheek lovingly.

You knew you loved Niragi, but knowing he can change his personality in a blink of an eye unsettled you. Who knew when he would do that to you? You heard him speak up again.

“We’ve slept together many times before, why are you becoming shy just now?” he teased, lifting a hand and slowly running it up along your tummy underneath your shirt. Your breath hitched as his cold hands made contact, making your stomach muscles tense.

“So sensitive,” he cooed again, snuggling his head into your chest, just above your breasts. “I love you.”

The confession made your heart skip a beat and you tensed. Niragi noticed this, making his body fill with anxiety. Did he say it too soon?

“Sorry,” he mumbled against your shirt. “That was a bit much, you don’t have to say it back,” he gaslighted.

“No,” you cut him off. “I love you too.”

Niragi’s heart filled with warmth and he felt all his nerves tingle around his body. He hadn’t heard that since he was a kid, and hearing you say it did nothing but make him more fall in love.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he sniffed out. You looked down to see him staring at you, tears filling his eyes. It made your heart ache.

He took his body weight off you and hovered himself above you again. “I promise, I won’t let anyone ever hurt you,” he mumbled, voice cracking slightly. His arms that laid on either side of your head acted like a cage. Whether you were trapped willingly or forcefully was beyond your guess.

As he leaned his head down again and pressed his still wet lips against yours, you felt his lanky arms snake around your torso underneath you, keeping you in place.

You laid there, moving your mouths together and holding each other as close as possible. It would’ve almost been romantic and loving if it wasn’t for the context. While one was preying on their victim to achieve what they’ve so desperately wanted their whole life, the other believed that that person was the victim themselves.

Such irony, to love someone who has a ‘unlovable’ personality, when it’s not even the one that you fell in love with.

The one you fell in love with was nothing but one of his many masks. And no one could determine whether he would ever take it off in front of you.

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry this one was actually hard to write. It’s a bit all over the place but I hope it was still enjoyable to read! Also I’m not going to do a Part 2 to this fic, but if you want to read something similar to this kind of yandere theme with Niragi, read my other fic called You’re Everything You Once Hated. I’m going to be posting a Part 2 of that one soon.

[voidcat]

— fangs dipped in wine

characters: chuuya nakahara, you

info: vampire au, lowkey suggestive, 2.3k

a/n: let's all pretend for a hot second bram stoker was an actual author in bsd and that instead of abilities, there are vampires<3 I'll probably do a p2 to this in a timeskip way so itll b more fun yay,,

Several days ago, it was just an idea. A laughing matter. A ‘what-if’ to build scenarios on and giggle.

Several days ago, it was night time too, the taste of alcohol fresh, her laugh right beneath your ear, it was warm, and bubbly and there was a sense of direction, a certainty.

Several days ago your friend hadn’t suddenly announced dropping out and moving out of the shared apartment you two had yet. Maybe she had been considering for a while now but in that very moment, it hadn’t happened yet, your world wasn’t upside down.

“Just imagine!-“ her breath fawned over your ear, glasses clinking against one another. “So I’m talking to this guy, right? Like music stuff, and movies, and all. No feelings whatsoever,” you found it hard not to roll your eyes and was met with a shove. “Not like that!” she protested. “He tells me about his boyfriend, I even helped him plan a surprise party once.”

“You cannot know if he’s faking…” you remember saying, in that knowing tone, smooth like silk and lecturing. “Yea whatever. Anyways! Get this:” placing the glass down in concentration that was foreign to her, you were intrigued.

“They don’t have vampires.”

“No way.” Slowing taking another sip from your drink, it sounded like a fantasy almost. Sure, there were rumors of not every country having vampires but it was numbered, there were so little, and the vampires? They were ever present.

“So he says: ‘Hey, aren’t they all rich peeps always wanting fresh blood? What if you have lots of blood already, and make a deal? You can trick them to pay you loads for it and you’d not even have to have them near your neck!’-“ she paused to let out a bark, you’re sure she’s been doing it since she first saw the message.

“And-“ another pause, to shed a tear, “and he says, ‘and if the vampire is hot? Bonus points! They got those fancy houses, you’d no longer pay rent either.’” The mocking of the voice comes to an end. “Can you believe? A deal, with a Vampire of all people! And he says rent fixed!”

You had to admit, for someone who claims to not met any vampires, it sounded charming on paper, but in Yokahoma?, not so much. At a moment of weakness, you looked at one another, daring, and next, breaking into a fit of laughter and downing the glass in one gulp.

How many days has it been since that night? Five? Maybe seven? It was long enough to miss her presence now, but too short to be threatened by the landlord.

One night you’re at your favorite pub with your dearest friend downing drink after drink. You can remember the stars in the sky that night, you thought it was just your brain imagining it, as well as the crescent moon hanging so delicately.

And next thing you know, you’ve just left this bar, despite the temperature it was cold on your bones, and here stands the redhead, his breath fawning over your neck, mouth open, but not to tell a story for the laughs.

He didn’t bother to hide the fangs and you didn’t bother to leave the place.

An idea you called stupid few nights ago just happened to make sense in that sad sulking state. And then he had to appear, with a glass of expensive wine, locks covering his face just fine, a vest that fits his body perfectly and fangs shining under the dim lights of the bar.

“Oh-kay, that’s enough.” You push his face off with your palm in one go. The ‘thump’ of his hat falling on the floor and the yelp coming from his lips fill the air.

“You’re no fun.” he pouts as he picks up his hat.

“So, how we’re doing this? And no, you cannot drink straight from my neck!” you finish before he can raise a finger.

A moment of silence follows the two of you, it’s a nice place. Expensive looking furniture though it’s more like a house from a catalogue than a home. Still, impressive –he, ‘what was his name again?’, definitely has a taste. The empty crystal glasses sit on the table, next to the bottle, a candle close to burning out completely flickers its flame lazily as your eyes wander.

Your gaze moves onto his sapphire eyes then, watching your every move and breath carefully, but not patiently. You can hear him vibrate with every molecule in his body, trying so hard not to lunge forward or speak up, maybe grab your arm and pull you back towards his chest.

“So? Hello?..” you drag the the ‘o’ and wave a hand in front of his face, “Anyone home?”

Like someone hypnotized stepping out of a trance at a snap of fingers, he jolts, pupils narrow, then widen and focus on your face. “Ah, sorry-“ he starts walking away.

Then he fakes a cough, as if you didn’t catch him staring already… Just how the hell did you find this guy in a city filled with vampires?

He stops, turns back, reaches for your hand and you let him. “Did you drink the wine?” he walks a step ahead, still hand in hand.

“If you ask me one more time, I’ll start suspecting you added some sort of drug.” This seems to get to him, obvious from the way he almost trips on his foot and turns back in a hurry, both hands up in defense and shaking his head like crazy.

“Wh- No- No, no no! It’s nothing like that- I-“ if he didn’t look so embarrassed, you’d even say he looks flustered. His rambling stops when you snort and decide to take pity on the guy.

“Relax I was just joking.” His shoulder drop in relief. “Besides, if you put anything, it’d have kicked in by now.”

“Ah, yeah, right…” he looks down, to his right, and that’s when you see the velvet couch there. He extends his hand, in an offering manner and follows you right after.

Reaching for a pocket in his vest, he whispers to himself, you barely hear. “I just like the taste of wine in blood...”

“Weird, not what I expected, but could be worse. I’ll take it.”

Another silence follows, he avoids your gaze while your eyes never leave his eyes fumbling with his vest and cape. Maybe it’s like one of those cape like jackets, certainly matches the vibe he carries.

Under the shivering candle light, he looks so different from the bold smug suave guy who brimmed with confidence, flashed his teeth like nothing, as if the world belongs to him and anything that does not care for him simply does not exist.

And now with the same face, sits besides you someone else, eyes cast down, hands fumbling, there’s comfort in knowing this is as awkward for you as for him.

(You wonder for a second if there’s something you can do to clear the atmosphere.)

“Maybe you should be having another glass instead of asking me.” You try to say nonchalantly and it takes him a second to get what you mean. Then he smiles, and the hint of a small giggle comes out and his body seems to calm down.

“Give me your hand.” He holds out his, the palm facing the ceiling. “Well? This is the easiest way to do it without leaving permanent marks.” He sounds irritated.

“Or noticeable.” You say and he repeats, a little impatient.

Giving him your less dominant hand, you eye the dagger for as long as you can. When the cold blade meets your palm, you can barely feel its weight.

“Okay, I’ll be honest here.” He stops midway, the dagger in the air. You raise an eyebrow, signaling him to continue. “I’ve never done… this before.”

“So- uh- whatever’s the standart payment, or the whole, you know,” he waves the hand holding the dagger in the air “etiquette for this.” He sounds to be relaxing with each word. And with him, so do you. Then comes back that familiar confidence from the earlier, decorated with a hint of threat and a dare. “Just- Don’t ever try to scam or fool me.”

And goes away the determined face, replaced with surprise, as you start laughing loud, one hand over your stomach.

“Look, listen-“ you stop as you’ve begun. “Chuuya.” He fills the gap for you.

“Listen, Chuuya.” You test his name on your lips. “I’m a broke college student who can get kicked out of their flat any day now. Crossing a vampire is the last thing on my list, trust me.”

Eyes soften, a genuine smile blooms and the silence to follow isn’t heavy anymore.

When he slashes the dagger over your hand, it doesn’t sting. The blood soon reaches the surface, red thick liquid glistening in the candle’s flame, ‘life’ it says.

This is what they want, why they want it, drink it, kill for it.

Hidden in the blood, is life, with all it has seen and will see, warm, moving, trusting.

You watch in a daze as he brings your hand to his mouth. Cold lips make content with your skin, how cold and lifeless they feel against you, you see in clear contrast. The sinking of teeth doesn’t come, you don’t flinch. You can tell he’s making an effort not to bite too hard into your giving hand. Drinking the blood slowly, trying to contain himself from getting greedy, there’s no sound in the air except for your loud heartbeat, echoing in your ear and fastening with each move of his back.

The glimpse of a smile you catch in this scene before you tells, he can hear it too, and probably relish in it.

With each flicker of the flame, his lips start to feel warmer and soon he straightens up. Not a single speck of blood on his frame, he offers you the same smug smile from earlier.

Blood makes place for itself on his face, like roses blooming under the sun. His skin gains color, you didn’t notice just how dull and gray he was up until now. Life spreads so fast in his limbs, soon you can feel his warmth near you, in the air, in your hand, on the spot your knees touch. Once the base color is done, pink decorates his cheeks faintly, most likely an after effect of all that wine.

Maybe if he intervened his fingers with yours, it’d feel warmer, and in a weird way, safer.

Watching your eyes on him with amusement in his crystal ones, he seems to enjoy this, that is until his eyes focus on a spot of yours and cannot stop examining every other spot, every single pore, mark, hair and color you have, memories you carry.

The flicker of the light blends in, the warmth pulls the two of you in, time feels gone, like it never existed, maybe nothing every existed except for the two of you sitting before each other.

A sudden crash, from the outside and the magic is gone with a snap.

Noticing your hands, you pull it back to your chest fast.

His goes back to his head and he looks away, anther shy smile on his face.

“What- How should we proceed next?” he breaks the silence first, attempting to gather back a sense of seriousness to his voice. In a way, he should too, this is technically business, isn’t it?

Glancing at your palm, you open and close it few times. Not a speck of pain is there.

“Once every week maybe? If that’s alright. Although we may cancel few weeks, you never know what comes up last minute.”

The dagger nowhere in sight, probably returned to a pocket of his already, he looks pleased with your reply. “Sounds good to me.”

Without further ado, you get up to look for the door you first walked in.

“Wait!-“ he follows in a hurry, almost slipping, again, and trying to find something in his jacket.

Go you! For forgetting why you agreed to a vampire’s house in the first place. “Is- uh- is this alright? Or is it so little? We never discussed payment, y’know.” He holds out a lot more than you expected, but then again, vampires live for thousands of years. He must have quite the amount lying around somewhere after all.

Unsure what to do with the money he slips into your hand, you meet his eyes. “That’s… more than enough actually. Thanks.”

He rests one hand on hip, taking in your surprised face. “Don’t mention it. I’ve got plenty.” Touching your elbow lightly, he guides you to the door, dragging his feet. By the time you reach the door, he makes no move to open it, not that it was ever locked in the first place.

Turning of the knob, you take a step ahead, motions limited on both sides; dragging, waiting for something to happen, something to be said, for the air to be broken.

By the time you’re one foot outside, he clears his throat with a fake cough, covering his mouth. “Same time, same place, next week?” his gaze cast on the floor, stealing glances to see what you will do next.

You turn to him with a smile. “Works for me.” And tilt your head “but what if one of us cannot find the other?”

“Oh I’ll find you alright.” He chuckles with a grin. Truly a sight to sell the whole vampire image he got going, even if he hadn’t been one.

Feet standing next to each other, you’re out now, furrowing your eyebrows with a look of disapproval to match his grin, unimpressed.

“You sound like a creep. Don’t do it again.”

And with it, you turn your back to him, already on your way. The ginger left behind, an unfinished “okay” hanging on his lips, eyes focused on your form, swallowed by the shadows, waiting for the next night to be spent with you, already impatient.

[devilrainbunnie]

._ anthurium pt 2 _.

tomura shigaraki x fem!reader

1/X/3

CW: anxiety trigger, manipulation, cheating, mentions of alcohol, mentions of depression and mental health (minors DNI)

a/n: I could not get the second part idea out of my head, I’m also going to try to write properly instead of doing all lowercase for practice. I’m used to doing lowercase but, whatever.

Tomura sprawled out over the black couch in his now empty, and lifeless apartment. His eyes were locked to the ceiling above him, though he was looking at nothing in particular. There was an unfamiliar feeling inside of his chest he had never felt before. Never in the mans life had he ever felt, or thought the way he did now. All his life he had done nothing but take, hate, use and abuse everything in this world-- so why couldn’t he stop feeling this heavy weight of regret within his body? Why did the corners of his eyes prick with hot, salty tears? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you? In his mind, he blames you for this feeling. If you had just stayed, and let this continue, he wouldn’t feel like this. 

But deep down he knows, that this is all of his fault.

He hurt you, constantly. Because you had always been there, accepted him, and coddled him, he never expected you to go anywhere. No matter what he did, or no matter what he said to you. He had hurt you in the past, many times. You always stayed. That made him believe you were okay with everything, or that’s at least what he told himself to make what he did not as bad. He never saw you crying, he never saw you actually upset. He thought your sometimes pestering and anxious ways you tried to confront him were nothing but annoying, not that you were silently begging him to love you and see he was breaking you. Or maybe he just didn’t want to see it. He didn’t even think about how it was affecting you. He was selfish, when all you were was selfless. You’d given everything to him, after Kurogiri was taken, you took care of him. Fed him, comforted him, made sure he was holding it together. Even before that, you tried to stop him from scratching at himself, you made sure he ate more than just take out, and junk food. You made sure he slept every night, showered every day. You helped him keep his things tidy. 

You gave him something he had never had; love. You gave up everything to be with him, and you made sure to always put him above yourself, even when you shouldn’t have. He realized up until recently that he made the biggest mistake he would ever make. He lost the one person who would’ve dropped everything for him, for someone who was nothing but a good fuck. Someone who was manipulating him, someone who quite literally used their quirk to make him believe what he was feeling was genuine. 

Tomura hated himself for it, he felt like a fucking garbage can. He lost his everything. He lost his love, his life, his happiness... all for some sex, and higher ranks. 

He tried a couple times to release his pent up emotions by turning to the girl, but he felt sick any time he put his hands on her. Everything came crashing down to him, and it didn’t exactly happen immediately. The first time it hit him, is when Dabi tried to kill him. 

...

The day after you left, Tomura was furious with you. Believing you had betrayed him, deceived him, and that he was going to unleash hell the next time he laid eyes on you. He slammed doors all night long after he found your note, drinking some sake and staying up until the sun rose. That morning he had a meeting, he got ready and wore his usual new outfit, a fancy black suit, with a long black trench coat and fur lined at the hood. Something you had actually helped him pick out, even though he whined about it being itchy against his face and neck constantly. He preferred his big hoodies, skinny jeans and converse, but now that he was a leader of such a professional group-- he was expected to look the part.

He adjusted himself in the mirror, putting on the singular artist glove, and flattening out the wrinkles in his suit. In all honesty, he just wanted to go to bed, and sleep away this angered feeling but he decided against it. Tomura needed to be professional.

He stepped out of the apartment, his hands in the pockets of the thick trench coat. A migraine beginning to settle into his head at the bright lights of the building. His eyes squinting, and blinking rapidly to adjust. He mindlessly strolled over to the elevator, and waited until the doors opened. Staring at his fancy black dress shoes, thinking to himself how stupid this all was. Soon the elevator arrived, and he stepped inside. It was empty, just how he preferred it, leaning his head back against the cold metal framing of the cart as it went upwards to the room he planned to have the meeting. 

Soon he arrived on the floor, stepping out of the metal box, and walking into the large room the meeting was meant to take place. As soon as he opened the door, all eyes were on him. He walked to take his place to speak, when he heard a familiar raspy voice make a comment towards him. Tomura, having absolutely no patience for his shit, decided to speak out. “Is there a problem, crispy?” he sneered, taking his seat on the couch, scooting himself in to get comfortable.

“Yeah, there is a big fucking problem. Not that you would give a shit though, fucking prick.” 

“Excuse me?!” Tomura snapped, sitting up to look at Dabi standing in front of him.

“You fucking heard me you nasty street rat. We have a fucking problem, and you’re lucky we’re inside because I wouldn’t hesitate to torch you alive right now.”

“What crawled up your ass and died?” he scoffed.

“Y/n. You fucking pushed her away. Y/n could be dead right now for all we know and it’s all your fault, because you just had to be selfish and fuck someone who is quite literally using you.” Dabi snapped, a little bit of blue shining from the insides of his closed fists. He was seething with rage, the tension in the room was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

“She left on her own accord dumbass. If you’re so concerned with her, then go find her yourself. Stop talking about her. I don’t have time for this shit. I did nothing--”

“That’s the thing crusty, you did. You fucking cheated on her, pushed her away, made her cry, and treated her like shit. Do you know how many times I had to see that poor girl looking like she was barely hanging on by a thread?” He sneered, Tomura rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t fucking act like you did nothing wrong. All of us tried to talk to you about cheating on her because we never saw Y/n and when we did, she looked fucking hollow. I don’t know how many times Twice or Spinner tried to talk to you about it, and you’d shut the door in their faces.”

“As I said, she left on her own accord! Quit talking about this--”

“He’s right, Tomura-kun. You need to take responsibility for this, she left because of you. She didn’t just abandon you, you pushed her to her limits and she left because she felt like she was no longer wanted by you. Why can’t you just take responsibility? I thought you were better than this Tomura-kun.” Toga stepped in, his words hit her hard. Toga was like your little sister. She loved you the most out of anyone in the league besides Twice, any time she could, she was right at your hip. “I-I... I miss her so much.” Toga said quietly under her breath, feeling herself start to tear up.

“Fuck this!” Tomura said loudly, slamming his fists down against the couch, and standing to his feet. 

“You don’t get to just fucking walk away from this!” Dabi screamed at him, which was really the only time they ever heard him get upset. Dabi marched straight at Tomura, launching his fist straight to his face. Tomura grabbed his wrist with his gloved hand. They began to restrain one another before Dabi started slowly inching flames his way, and Tomura’s glove began to slip off intentionally. They were both pulled away separately. “I’m gonna kick your ass for this soon enough you grimy fuck! That girl was the only person in the league I actually enjoyed! Fuck you! I’ll fucking kill you!” Tomura realized how much he was acting like an older brother to you, and how truly sad everyone looked. You were part of their family, and he had made you leave. The rest of the day was a blur to him, he spent it drinking too much sake, playing games, and at some point crying. 

The next days, he was angry and couldn’t process his emotions without some alcohol in his system. After a while, it hit him way too hard, and sleeping at night was nearly impossible. The next weeks all he did was mope around, and hate himself. He didn’t do anything like he used to anymore, besides stuff with PLF, he just took it upon himself to waste his days away locked on the couch or bed.

...

Tomura rubbed his face with four fingers, turning to his side to stare out of the large window, watching the way the moon shined into the room. He imagined your silhouette sitting at the window watching it to, like he often saw when he came into the room. This time instead of being annoyed at your presence, he wonders how he could fix things if you never left. Would things ever even be seen properly if you hadn’t left?

He whines out loud at the thought, wishing you were there to tell him it’s all okay, and comb through his hair with your soft fingers like you used to. He wants to sleep, but he can’t. 

“I miss you. I’m a fucking idiot.” he softly murmurs into the air. Looking over to the anthurium plant that was in its usual spot that you loved so much, you had that plant longer than you were with him. Most of the plants in the room were long dead by now, but the anthurium was thriving. It gave him the smallest bit of comfort and relief, that somewhere, you were alive and okay. He wondered if you’d ever come back, even just for the plants. He smiled at the thought of you again, and he reached to the floor to pull up one of your old tee-shirts you left behind. A simple black one, and it still reeked of your familiar, comforting scent. He nuzzled his face into it, absorbing the comfortable feeling it gave him. Imagining you just being here again, right back into his arms like he wished. Like everything was okay again. The thought gave him comfort, as he closed his heavy lidded crimson irises that begged for the release of slumber. To dream of a life different than the one he was faced with. One with you in it.

In another life, I guess.

^^^

The last month was a tough one for you, you left everything behind. No plan in mind but to get as far away from Tomura as you could. You managed to get through the run down city of Deika somewhat okay, even though there was rubble covering the entirety of the streets. You would’ve been left with cuts and bruises because of how hard it was to climb over certain spots, but luckily your quirk saved you from that. Your eyes were dry by the time you reached the end of the city, it dawned on you there that you were finally free from the pain you once felt. It didn’t completely go away, but the familiarity of your surroundings was unknown, and that gave your mind some clarity. There was no pain here, nothing around you reminded you of him. It was uncharted territory, a place to make your own. Sure it was just a mostly deserted pavement road surrounded by some trees, and houses that were more than likely empty. There was nothing left to do but go forward. You walked down the empty pavement road until the sun began to rise, and still no signs of any civilization. It was empty, lifeless, and dull, but you were happy. Free. From time to time you’d stop to fix your shoes, find somewhere to relieve yourself or drink some water. 

You were hoping to find a bus, or a motel before you got too tired. You stopped for a moment to check the small pocket watch you had with you in your bag to see that it was almost seven in the morning. But you kept on, and even though your legs began to feel like jello-- you soon were coming upon a new city. One that looked full, lively, and different. 

Instead of just hopping on a bus, you decided to find a motel to shower, unwind and sleep in a warm bed. As you stumbled upon one, paid for you room and stripped yourself of your clothes, you immediately crashed to the bed. Sleeping for far longer than you wanted to, but needed to.

For a while it was a lot of traveling, trying to come up on a plan, and your money was running low. You were free, but there was still a cost. There you were, eating some cheap, cold soba outside in the rain in Musutafu. It was midday, and there was a lot of people out on the streets going to and from work (or school, who knows), the streets were lined with cars. heroes were on patrol everywhere. It felt good to be back somewhere you were used to, even if there was nothing for you there to feel stable. The jacket you wore was fairly thick, but didn’t keep you the warmest. You sat underneath a small bus stop shivering while eating something that made your hands go numb. Some of those that passed you gave you dirty looks, eyeing you up and down, assuming you were just another dirty beggar enjoying a meal someone else paid for you. Internally you felt ashamed of yourself for having to live like this, but it was all for a purpose. Let them stare, what do they know?

Soon your noodles were lessening, and you had finished your soba. After you took the last few noodles, you grabbed all of the trash you had sitting around you, and walked over to a trash can outside of the large law firm you were outside of. Placing it inside, and walking away before you heard something behind you. “Y/n?” a voice called from behind you, not registering at first that it was familiar to you.

You turned your head to look at the person behind you. It was Giran, in the flesh. Standing there with an umbrella over his head, and cigarette kissing between his lips. “Giran?” He flopped his grey locks out of his forehead. He looked exactly how you remembered him, gapped tooth, nice looking clothes, beautiful gold rings decorating his fingers, and the little glasses of his you always tried to steal from him.

“Doll... what the hell are you doing all the way over here? What happened? Why do you...”

“Why do I look like this?” You raised your brow, he shamelessly nodded. “I’m homeless, that’s why.”

“Why? What happened for you to be homeless?”

“I... I left. Things happened, I just-- I needed to leave.” you stumbled over your words, not really wanting to tell him the full story.

“I have a feeling there’s a story there you’re not telling me.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it another time. Well, it was good seeing you, I’ll leave you to it--” 

He hastily cut you off, not letting you walk away from him. It was obvious to the both of you that you were running from something, and probably going to run off to another city alone again. “Wait!” you turned to him, raising your eyebrow to him. “I was just heading home, come with me. You shouldn’t be out here alone, doll.”

“I don’t want to impose... Really, I’ll be fine--”

“Y/n. You are homeless, I want you to be safe and sleep in a warm bed. You aren’t imposing sweetheart, I’ll take care of you. I ask nothing in return besides that you fill me in at some point about what happened. I don’t wanna hear any no’s or but’s coming from ya, you’re not sleeping out on the streets anymore. Let’s go.” he said shamelessly. Giran was always good with looking out for you, you came to him shortly before going to the league looking for work as a healer within a group. You found yourself intrigued by Shigaraki, and Giran of course being the gentleman he is, asked you if you were sure a million times. Telling you that no matter what happened, he would watch over you, and take care of you. He’d always cared. You hastily agreed, he patted your shoulder comfortingly.

You followed him closely back to his home, the umbrella doing little to prevent water from falling all over you. Soon you arrived to his beautiful home, and quickly settled in. He allowed you to take a shower, took all of your clothes to run through the washer, and gave you some of his spare clothes to wear in the mean time. The hot water soothed your sickly cold feeling skin, the musky mint smelling soap soothing your senses. For the first time in a while, you were relaxed.

After taking a shower, and setting up in his guest room, Giran came into the room. Eyeing you carefully as you sat in the white cotton sheets in his baggy undershirt and basketball shorts. Your wet hair sticking to the back of your head. “Hungry?” he asked. “I’m about to order takeout, what sounds good?”

“Curry, and taiyaki. Haven’t had either in so long.”

“An interesting combination, but I’ll see what I can do. Just relax for now, feel free to hangout in the living room. I got a TV and some books. Do whatever you feel, though.” he grinned at you. Patting the doorway before turning to walk away.

“Giran?” you called out to him.

“Yes?” he replied putting himself back into view.

“Thank you, for everything. I hope I can make it up to you one day.”

“Don’t worry about that now doll, all I care about is keepin’ you safe.” he smiled a genuine smile, which you returned. It was nice to be surrounded by so much hospitality and kindness. He stepped away from the door frame once again to let you do whatever it is you wanted to do. That night you both shared a meal, chatted, and went to bed. He let you take some books into the guest bedroom for you to read whenever you wanted. You felt at ease, like you were finally safe and grounded. You didn’t have to rely on Tomura for anything anymore, you had yourself. 

Even though deep down, you missed him. It had been ages since he last held you, kissed you, or even looked at you properly-- but you still missed it. All of it. You wondered if he was doing okay, if he was still with her, or if he even cared if you left. Honestly, you doubted it, he probably would’ve taken a couple days to even realize something was even slightly off. You didn’t regret your decision, but part of you would always miss him. 

Always, and forever, love him.

--

Over the next month or so, the routine was generally the same. Giran learned about what Tomura had done to you and why you were homeless. He decided to let you work with him in his office, you mostly would just organize his files, greet clients (usually ones he needed help convincing because you were the little office eye candy), cleaning around the office, and just overall being his assistant. He respected you, cared for you, and got you back to your feet-- without expecting a thing from you. The two of you were growing closer, and you were nothing but thankful to him. Sometimes the two of you would dress up super fancy to go to meetings for very high up clients who couldn’t be seen anywhere near where Giran worked out of safety for the two of them. It was a quite relaxing life, and you were growing used to everything. 

There you sat in your usual spot in Giran’s office, filing some paperwork that needed to be put away. Your office was a little room attached to Giran’s main office, small but comfortable. You’d spend most of the day in there until it was lunch time, or special cases where he needed your charm to make a client more comfortable. You were lost in the groove of the routine that often came with these tasks, listening to the music playing from your laptop speaker that was low enough to be able to hear anyone talking, and not be heard by anyone but you. From time to time stopping to play with the button on your blouse. Giran insisted that you dressed formally for the job, which consisted in business formal attire. Like right now, you were wearing a black button up blouse, dark maroon pencil skirt, tights, and black mary-jane high heeled shoes. A cute little choker chain on your neck to show some more class, and matching simple earrings. You looked formal enough to be doing the job, but also cute enough to just go out in the outfit.

After sitting, and filing for what seemed like hours, you decided to stretch. Getting up from your chair, and popping your limbs. Walking into Giran’s office cautiously. You didn’t hear anyone with him, but you never knew. You lightly knocked on the door frame to get his attention, his face was downwards as he read over some documents at his desk. “Hey bossman, how’s it goin’?” You asked him, leaning into the open frame. His head turned towards you away from the desk, a small smile present on his features.

“Good, good. Just readin’ over this real quick. You need me doll?”

“Oh don’t flatter yourself, I just needed a bit of a break, and you also shouldn’t be stretching your neck out like that. You might hurt yourself.” raising your eyebrows playfully. He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Well, it’s almost time for lunch. How about you go out and get us somethin’ to eat? You hungry yet?” he asked pulling a cigarette from his pocket, and placing it on his mouth. Grabbing his metal lighter from the desk to light it, taking a long drag before exhaling the smoke slowly out his nose.

“Hmm... maybe, I’d be okay with getting us something.” 

“One sec.” he replied, getting up from his seat to walk to his large trench coat that sat in its place on the coat rack in the corner next to the door. Digging in the pocket of it for something, which he soon found. He took a drag on the cancer stick once more before returning. “Here’s my card.”

“Thanks.” 

“Also, you look beautiful today Y/n.” he admitted, leaning against his desk in front of you.

“Are you implying I don’t look beautiful every other day?” you retorted, feeling your face warm up with bashfulness. 

“Never, doll. Just thought I’d make you smile.” he leaned towards you. Pulling his cigarettes from his lips to press a kiss to you forehead, your stomach fluttering wildly. Sometimes his little affirmations of affection made you go insane, you sometimes wished you had the confidence and stability to just grab his collar, and kiss him. Sure, he was older, but he was attractive. There was no doubt there, and the feelings were mutual. But you assumed neither of you wanted to ruin what was already going on. “Now get on, it might rain within the next hour. Wouldn’t want you to get wet.”

You smiled, placing your hand on his cheek in an assuring way before walking to the coat rack to grab your warm coat. Turning back to him before exiting the office, a soft smile present on your lips, muttering a quick good bye before opening the door. 

--

Soon you were back with take out bags on your hands, coming up upon the door of the office, knocking, before taking a step in. Happy to see Giran again, and eat your lunch. As your eyes registered upon the desk in front of you, you felt your heart drop into your stomach. Your hands quickly becoming sweaty as your gripped on to the plastic bags you held on to for dear life. There was that familiar light blue colored mop of hair sitting in the chair adjacent from Giran. He was wearing a black trench coat you hadn’t seen him wear since he exchanged his wardrobe for all of the suits, his back was to you, but even then you could still immediately tell it was him. His voice rang in the air, and died quietly as he recognized Giran’s distressed face. 

“Giran, what...” he asked, but let the words fall off his tongue, turning his head to look into your direction.

Without waiting, you dropped the bags of food on the ground, turning to open the office door. You quickly walked to the elevator, smashing the buttons on the wall to step in, just wanting to get away from him. You were scared to face him, you refused to, and luckily the buttons outside the elevator dinged, and it opened, you looked back to the office to see Tomura opening the door, catching your gaze. “Y/n! Wait! Please!” he called after you as you rushed inside the elevator, smashing the buttons to close. Your arms and legs trembling violently as you waited for the door to close on him.

“Stop! Y/n please let me-- hey stop!” he called after you, his foot steps and voice growing closer as the door began to close. When it almost came to a close, you saw his panicked red iris, he sounded so distressed that it made you almost want to open up the door, and let him in. But at the same time, you were trembling. You knew he worked with Giran, but you never expected to see him again. Giran tried to promise you that, but he also warned that things were unpredictable, and that he would do his best to keep you safe. You felt tears welt up in your eyes that you tried to blink away, knowing that he most likely was going to beat you to the lobby and confront you anyways.

You loved him.

But could you even forgive him?

[kpop---scenarios]

The Ride (2)

Part One

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Warning: Violence, Blood, Torture, Abuse

Word Count: 1.5k

The smell of blood surrounds you. 

You can't tell if it's coming from you or the room you've been locked in just has the permanent smell residing in it. The uniform you had been wearing is now ripped, exposing parts of your body, the breeze from the cracked walls make your body shiver, the cold concrete floor beneath you doesn't help.  

Your hands are tied behind your back, your ankles tied together, along with a gag placed in your mouth. You can't run, you can't scream. All you can do is cry. Your shoulder is throbbing, you're sure you have dislocated it. Your head pounds as more tears pour from your eyes. You haven't seen anyone in days, only hearing faint voices outside the large metal door that's locked you in there. 

You wish you knew what the hell was going on and if anyone was even looking for you. 

** 

"Who the fuck do you work for?" Baekhyun yells, punching the man in the face again, blood splattering onto him. It had only been a few hours and very slowly Baekhyun was getting the man to crack.

"I.. I.." he stutters as Baekhyun rolls up the sleeves of his white button up shirt. He's not concerned about the blood covering his shirt, nor the sweat dripping down his forehead. The only thing he's worried about is finding you before it's too late. 

"Fine. We can do this the hard way." Baekhyun laughs, walking over to the table of tools your grandfather had so graciously provided. He stared at the pliers, the chainsaw, and even considering using the hammer, but there was one thing that caught his eye. His eyes glimmered as he walked to the end of the table, picking up the rusty hacksaw. "This has been sitting in storage for years, can't imagine it's very sharp." Baekhyun chuckles. "Talk or I'll saw off every finger and every toe until I get the information I want." He spits, walking towards the shaking man. 

"P-please." The man begs, blood spewing from his mouth as he cries. Baekhyun reaches the man, grabbing his tied hand to steady his fingers before he begins sawing, drowning out the loud piercing cry of the man who refused to talk. 

**

"Wake up, bitch." You barely hear before your face is splashed bringing you out of your terrible sleep. You gasp for air as you open your eyes, coughing and shaking your head. You struggle with breathing and coughing, as you're pretty sure one or two of your ribs are broken. The man kneels down in front of you, harshly taking your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. He rips out your gag before looking you in the eyes.  You see his eyes only as the rest of his face is covered by a mask. "Got the camera ready?" He asks someone out the door before pushing your body to the floor, making you cry out in pain. 

"Get away from me." You scream, trying your best to kick him away. You fight through the piercing pain in your ribs as your foot connects with his stomach shoving him back.

"Let's do this now." He yells to someone. Two people rush in, one with a video camera and the other one kneels down, pulling you back up to face him. The person with the camera points it directly at you, a small chuckle escaping from their lips. 

It's a girl. 

"You listen here you little bitch. You're going to beg your fucking grandfather to give up his territory for you, or we're going to kill you." The man spits. 

"I won't do it." You whisper. 

"What was that?" He snaps, grabbing a chunk of your matted hair. 

"I said I won't fucking do it." You scream, spitting what you could at him. He lets go of your hair. 

"You fucking bitch." He spits, hitting you across the face with the back of his hand. "Say it." He screams. 

"Fuck you." You spit. 

He hits you again. Tears fall from your eyes as you try to remain strong. You could survive this. 

"Give me the knife." He says to the other guy, holding out his hand while he waits for something. 

You watch the other man reach behind himself and pull out a knife. Chuckles escape both their lips as they grab your legs, holding them tightly. 

"Say it." He demands. 

You keep your mouth shut. 

The man holds your ankles still before he drags the knife down your foot, cutting it deeply. You let out a loud scream, now freely crying as you try to get your foot away. 

"Fucking say it." He spits again. 

You don't say anything. 

He hands the knife to the other man who holds your other ankle before cutting your foot even deeper this time. You can feel the blood gushing from the cuts, dripping down your legs. 

"Grandpa." You cry out. "Please give them what they want." You whisper. "Please help me." You whimper. Your feet are throbbing, tears spilling as the man shoves you forcing you onto your back. 

"You heard her old man." He spits towards the camera. "Give up your territory, all of it, or I swear to God, I'll fucking kill her." He finishes, the woman turning off the camera. The three of them leave, slamming the door behind them, leaving you shivering, bloody and in so much pain. 

**

"Baekhyun." Chairman Yang says, clearing his throat. 

Baekhyun turns around, facing your grandpa who is now staring at the three fingers that are laying on the floor before turning to the lifeless looking man whose head was hanging down, the smell of blood lingering 

"Is he dead?" He asks. 

"No sir." Baekhyun responds. 

"Release him. He knows nothing." Chairman Yang demands, turning around to head back up the stairs. 

"You don't know that! He might crack. He knows something." Baekhyun protests. 

"He doesn't. Let him go." The Chairman says one last time before heading back up the stairs, leaving Baekhyun confused, and frankly a little suspicious. 

** 

Two days later. Two days of Baekhyun pleading with Chairman Yang to do something, offer up some kind of lead, in hopes of finding you. 

Two days of him doing nothing, except tell Baekhyun he was onto something and wouldn't tell Baekhyun what. Barely even acknowledging the fact that you were missing, and God knows what the fuck was happening to you. 

Just as Baekhyun was about to burst into his office, one of his men beat Baekhyun to it, shoving his way into the Chairman's office while holding a DVD. 

"Sir, this was left on the front step." The man says, eyes darting to Baekhyun before back to the Chairman. 

"Who left it?" He asks, getting up from his desk to grab it. 

"Not sure sir. But we will find out." The man says, exiting the room.

"Is it about Ayn?" Baekhyun asks, his stomach dropping.

"I don't know that. Lets see." He says, pushing the DVD into the player. 

The video is dark, but Baekhyun can hear you before the camera even pans to you. And when it does it takes all it has in him not to break. You're dirty, shivering, and looking thin. He can barely see the bruises scattered on your body, he notices you're wheezing. 

Then he hears your cries as they cut your feet. You plead with them and they don't even flinch. Baekhyun barely notices his nails digging into the palm of his hands as he watches these monsters torture you. 

"Give up your territory, all of it, or I swear to God, I'll fucking kill her."

The video goes black, Baekhyun fights off his tears. "Give them what they want!" He yells. "Did you see her!" 

"Of course I did." Chairman sighs, walking back to his desk. "They won't kill her, they need her." He chuckles. "Besides, I won't give up a fucking thing."

** 

You lay on the cold concrete, your body aching as the memories of what just happened played in your mind over and over again. You huddle into a ball on the floor, despite the pain and just cry, wishing that Baekhyun or someone would come to your rescue. 

"Get up, bitch." You hear from outside your door. It's a female voice that you just barely recognize. 

You continue to lay there, not caring anymore about what they do to you, your body already feels numb. 

"I said get up." She says again, opening the door. She's wearing a mask, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. "No so fucking tough now." She chuckles. "Little miss perfect is a fucking mess now." 

You struggle to, but manage to sit up. 

You know that voice. 

"No one has come looking for you bitch. Guess you're not nearly as loved as you thought you were." She laughs. 

The woman takes off her mask, making you gasp. 

"Rose?" You gasp, your voice hoarse,

She stands in front of you, her arms crossed with a smile spread across her face. 

"Hey cousin." 

[kingreywrites]

So Pardon The Dust

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2493

Summary: When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king has been dead for years.

Note: this is bittersweet, but the idea couldn’t leave me alone, and i had to write it out! so yeah, edmund’s death is heavily talked about, be careful if that’s not your thing! I just love Destinies Collide, and love what-ifs, so this story was born from there asghdh

Read on ao3

When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king has been dead for years. 

They don't know that. What they do know is that once their travel in a shaky gondola over an immense rift ends, everything seems too easy. The kingdom is dark, cold, smells of dust and rust permeating the air, and it makes it hard to imagine that anyone has ever lived in such a place. But Rapunzel's hair pushes her forward, and they don't spend any more time thinking about it. 

They enter the equally dark and cold castle, searching for the moonstone. 

Desperate for a flicker of warmth, Lance lights a fire in a lifeless living room with no windows. Eugene's gaze is drawn to a painting, throning above the fireplace and depicting a man and a woman he presumes to be the king and queen. 

He cannot explain the deep uneasiness he feels at the sight, or even why he can hardly tear his eyes away from the picture. His heart is racing, and he explains it by blaming it on his concern for Rapunzel. 

The queen's smile remains etched in his mind as he moves forward. 

The king has been dead for years. They don't know it, but Eugene finds a room filled with overhanging statues and, sitting in front of a gigantic door, is a tiny skeleton covered in too big clothes and dust. A dark crown still hangs grotesquely on its head, but the first thing Eugene sees is the purple gem necklace between the fingers of its single hand. The same as the queen's in the painting. 

Eugene has a bitter taste in his mouth. Rapunzel holds his hand, also upset, and he remembers that they are here for her, and for her destiny. He holds her fingers tighter between his, and they move toward the door. 

The ghosts are… certainly a surprise.

Death is not something new to Eugene, yet he can't help but feel nauseous when the king's ghost appears so close to his own skeleton, eyes full of a melancholy and anger that only he understands.

He doesn't seem to be capable of speech. He just groans and attacks, mindlessly guarding the stone that cost him his life. When Adira arrives to help them, she calls him Edmund, a soft grief in her voice, and Eugene keeps the name in a corner of his head. Edmund. Not a ghost, not a skeleton, but Edmund, who protected his kingdom until he died trapped within it.

Finally, Eugene is the one who destroys his statue. He cuts off its head, and tries to forget how a few seconds before, it was his own that could have been lost, if the king's axe had not struck beside it. Luck saved his life this time.

Adira asks Rapunzel to enter the moonstone chamber by herself. She says that it's her destiny, and hers alone. Eugene wants to protest, worry burning in his heart, but he doesn't even have the time - Rapunzel looks at Cassandra, and announces that the three of them will go inside. He should be relieved, but he can't help but take another look at the king's- Edmund's body. Many people have died for this stone, and the more time passes, the more terrified he is of what awaits them on the other side. He knows death, more than any other member of this group probably; he's been around it personally. He promised himself when he came back to life, that he would never let Rapunzel die the way he did, slowly and violently, when she has so much to live for.

He doesn't know where this promise will lead him. 

When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king is dead. They enter easily, and though the ghosts of past rulers stand in their way, the path to the moonstone is far from the most difficult adventure he has ever experienced. Eugene is worried, of course he is - he's afraid of the conclusion of their journey, afraid of what he cannot predict. Rapunzel tells him she loves him, and he almost wants to throw up, because they're in the middle of a kingdom murdered by that exact stone Rapunzel intends to grab. I love you too, he thinks, but can't manage to say, because the words sound like a goodbye, and he's not ready for that. He'd die one thousand times for her, if she asked him to. He'd die for her against her will too, if necessary, but he knows he can't get in the way today. As desperate as he is to protect her, he knows how much she values being able to draw her own path.

He wants to grab the moonstone first because he loves her, and because he loves her, he stays back.

That's not the case for everyone. He notices too late Cass running for it, and Demanitus' warning echoes once again in his ears, mocking now that the only thing he can do is try to pull Rapunzel to safety as the world explodes in colours. The king is dead, and their friendship with Cassandra is too, the shadow of Gothel haunting Rapunzel once again despite how much she deserves to be free from it. Cassandra flees, Eugene hurts his arm when she pushes him away, and Rapunzel runs after her, desperate to salvage what can be.

It doesn't amount to much, in the end.

Things settle down, as much as they can while Rapunzel still sits listlessly near the broken bridge Cassandra left behind, and Eugene goes in the castle again, in search of bandages this time. His left arm hurts.

He doesn't expect to find Adira, standing silently in front of... Edmund. Her back is rigid, her mouth in a straight line, but when he calls her name, he sees a foreign melancholy in her eyes. He doesn't know her that well, but there's a lot Eugene can understand from looking into somebody's eyes.

Adira sighs, shoulders lowering, and he's sure she hears his unsaid question. "I shouldn't be surprised," she says, but it's clear that in a way, she is. "I… knew, that King Edmund was not well, when we left. I often considered that he might very well be…" she trails off, her eyes falling on his body again.

"It's different to be sure," Eugene responds softly, his voice loud in the silence of this immense room. Watching them - Adira, and this skeleton, barely hanging together enough to recognise a human shape - it was difficult to conceive that once upon a time, they had stood here together, alive and happy, perhaps. He can't imagine what it feels like to see an old friend this way, with no warning. "Adira…"

"It's okay, Fishskin," she smiles, and in her voice, he could hear the echoes of all the time Rapunzel told him she was fine, because she didn't know how to act when she was not.

He barely knows Adira. Both because he didn't ask, and because she didn't want him, or anyone, to know her. But he can guess easily that her life had never been one of peace, not even before leaving the Dark Kingdom, and losing contact with the other members of the Brotherhood. He doesn't think she's unhappy, per se, but he- he knows, they all know, especially now after everything that happened, that anger and fear and grief are not emotions that should be let to fester until they explode. Maybe it's his worry for Rapunzel speaking; maybe he's confusing everything, and Adira is simply dealing with the situation the way she wants to, but before he can think better of it, Eugene takes a step forward, and asks her if she wants to bury the king's body.

"To- To give him a better resting place," he explains awkwardly, her eyes piercing right through him. He's ready to say sorry and hope she doesn't kill him for overstepping her boundaries, but, to his surprise, she softens, a genuine if sad smile on her lips.

"Actually Fishskin, that's… a great idea."

And so they do it. Adira finds a bear hood that the King used to wear - Dabney, she says reverently - and they place his bones in it, carefully moving everything in tandem. They don't really talk while doing it. There's not much to be said. Eugene thinks of this king, who was so desperate to save his kingdom that he doomed it, and he thinks about death, too. About how lonely it is.

Adira leads them down a few corridors, and they emerge in a small, grey looking garden. They walk until they find an unmarked tombstone.

"The queen," Adira announces shortly, and Eugene wonders if she helped bury her too.

It's not the first time Eugene digs a grave for someone. He remembers starkly getting out of the tower with Rapunzel, both of them entirely different people than who they were before, and finding a cloak and ashes at the bottom of it. He remembers how quietly distraught Rapunzel had been, and how he had proposed to bury what was left of Gothel.

Shaking his head, he tries to think about something else, but it's hard given the situation. His arm aches at each of his movements. Surprisingly, Adira breaks the silence, and that's enough to distract him.

"I often disagreed with King Edmund," she says, without looking at him. "He was a good king, but his duty to the moonstone blinded him to the bigger picture, and I was afraid that it would lead him, and us, to lose everything. I was right, as I often am," she chuckles, but there's no mirth behind it. Simply grief. Something that can't be quite put into words.

"How did he lose his arm?" Eugene asks, voice low as they finally lower the bones into the ground. His eyes catch the sight of the necklace falling aside, and when they're done, he picks it up, thumb running over the smooth surface of the gem.

"The queen died," Adira whispers. She's looking at the necklace too, when he raises his head. "Edmund's grief led him to act on the anger he had been repressing for too long, but the moonstone was much more powerful than he imagined. Its retaliation costs him everything he held dear."

Gently, Adira takes the necklace from him, and Eugene can't explain the impulse that makes him want to hold onto it for a little while longer.

He's sentimental, he reasons. There's something deeply touching about this man dying while looking at the last thing connecting him to his late wife. These are good explanations, but neither of them addresses the unease and bitterness rising in Eugene's throat. He doesn't understand it himself.

Adira looks at the necklace for a long time, emotions he can't name in her expression. Memories she will not share make her frown, and Eugene feels more and more like he doesn't belong in this moment.

"Should we… bury that with him?" he asks awkwardly. Adira bites her lips, and finally shakes her head.

"This necklace was special for the queen. I know she intended to pass it down to her children."

A terrible voice in Eugene's mind reminds him that it's too late - they both died, and that necklace, that tradition, died with them too. He's hit by the tragedy of it all again, relentlessly reminded that the king passed away long before anyone could try to save him. And they would have, Rapunzel would have convinced him to let her through, she would have given him faith, Eugene is sure of that. He thinks that's why he's angry, too. The king has been dead for years, maybe, alone and desperate until his very last moments. And Eugene, Eugene wishes to go back in time, and give him another chance, get him the help he needed before it was too late.

He has never been good at accepting unhappy endings.

"When… When King Edmund banished us from the Dark Kingdom," Adira continues, "he also made another sacrifice. He sent his son away, when he was barely a baby, to be raised far from the moonstone and its dangers."

Son. A baby, sole survivor of the royal family, who probably doesn't know he is. A baby, who isn't one anymore now, but who is probably alive, and the thought is enough for Eugene to feel something new - he'd call this hope, but he's not sure that it fits. Closure, perhaps.

"You want to give their son the necklace," he smiles shakily.

"That's what needs to be done," Adira agrees, before putting away the necklace in her pocket. The gem catches the moonlight one last time, shining brighter than before, and it's easier for Eugene to let go, this time. "However, I did not keep track of the prince. I don't know what became of him, after we left, but I will keep searching until I find him."

"Hey," Eugene grins, wanting to lighten the atmosphere a little, "you searched for the mystical and maybe non-existent sundrop, and you found it, so I'm sure a prince will be no trouble. And if you need anything, we'll be happy to help," he adds, more earnest this time.

There's a newfound warmth in her eyes, and she inclines her head, acknowledging his words. The situation feels easier, somewhat. They finish replacing the dirt on top of the king's body, and Adira places a little stone to mark the emplacement.

The king is dead, and Cassandra is gone, but Eugene wants to believe that they all can find their own healing in time.

One wrong move reawakens the pain in his arm, and Adira gauges him when he flinches. She tells him that if there are any medical supplies around there, they're probably in the King's personal quarters.

With her instructions, it's not too hard to find them. The bedroom he finds is enormous, which only heightens how empty and dark it feels. Blindly, Eugene makes his way to a window, and pushes the heavy curtains away, letting the moonlight flood the room, and reveal the ambient dust like as many little stars in the night sky.

One side of the bed is unmade. Next to the other, there is an empty crib.

His heart is racing, and he can't explain it. He turns to the bedside table, and does find what appear to be bandages, next to a pile of papers, so close to the bed that it is easy to guess that the king often looked at them. 

Eugene approaches. He tells himself, without much conviction, that he should not look. That even in death the king deserves to keep his privacy. Whatever these papers are, they must have meant a lot to him, keeping him company in his darkest hours, and Eugene doesn't belong in this story.

It only takes him a step, and a second, to recognize his old wanted posters.

[catxsnow]

VENGEANCE T.D.

Summary: After Jason’s death, Tim was the one person that you could lean on, now more than ever. 

Tim x reader and Sister!reader x Jason

Warning: Jason’s death, obviously. swears

A/N: I’m not entirely content with this, might fuck with a part two, who knows.

GIF not mine 

Part Two

Word count: 2.6k

Jason Todd didn't hate Tim Drake.

He never hated Tim, he hated Bruce for allowing Tim to be put into the same situation that he was in. Jason never wanted to see another Robin be brutally murdered like he was. He never wanted another opportunity for some innocent kid who was just trying to make good in the world be beaten to death.

Jason did however, hate Bruce for not getting revenge on his behalf. He hated that Bruce never killed the Joker for killing him. That was why he was filled with so much hate towards the Wayne family. He thought he meant enough to Bruce to cross the line for once. Then again, he also thought that you would too.

You were Jason's younger sister, only by just under two years but he acted as if he was your parent half the time. When the two of you got taken in by Bruce, he became even more protective over you - if that was even possible. You were all Jason had for a very long time.

The shit that the two of you had gone through together, the things that you needed to do to survive, well, nothing could break that bond. Nothing besides the Joker.

The Joker took Jason away from you. When Jason found out that your mother was alive, he went on his own. He knew too well that you would want nothing to do with her - the two of you never got along, not that it was very easy to get along with her in the first place.

So, when Jason was on that cold, concrete floor, beaten half to death and blood dripping everywhere, his last thought was that he was glad you never came with him. He was glad that you never had to go through the pain that he did and the death that followed.

You had never felt so much pain in your life. The heartbreak that Jason's death caused you broke you in ways that you didn't think possible. Jason was the only one that was there for you when you needed someone, he was always the person who knew the right things to say, and wouldn't hesitate to get his hands dirty and make someone pay if they dared hurt you.

Jason was the best big brother you could have ever imagined. Losing him, was like losing a piece of yourself. You couldn't take the pain of missing your other half - so, just like Bruce had done, you put every spare moment of time out on the streets. Your mantle of Batgirl was upheld, but your antics more violent.

Bruce saw it, GCPD saw it, even Dick saw it and he barely stepped foot into the manor after his departure and fight with Bruce. However, no one said anything about it. Bruce was just the same, if not worse. His punches became harder, never ending until his victim was barely breathing. So close to crossing the line, but never far enough to not be able to come back.

And then Tim Drake came around.

He somehow figured out Bruce was Batman and that you were Batgirl. He knew that the two of you needed a Robin, someone that would keep you from passing that line for good. So Bruce took him in, he trained Tim and made him the next Robin.

You didn't mind Tim. He was a nice guy - even though you were very rude to him at first. The loss of Jason turned you in to a completely different person. Cold, untrusting, snappy, nothing like you used to be. He knew what had happened and tried his best to make life better for you.

Slowly, you started to warm up to Tim. You saw him less as a replacement to your brother and more of a friend. He didn't want you to think that he replaced Jason, he simply wanted to help to make sure that you and Batman kept your morals that you spent years maintaining.

He was the reason that you never crossed that line. Tim stopped you from killing the Joker. The moment that he popped his out of the twisted shadows he hid within, you were there, beating the ever living hell out of him. All you could see was him beating Jason, an innocent kid. You did this for Jason, to avenge him.

Joker was left in a bloody, beaten, lifeless pulp when you were done with him. Broken ribs, displaced knees, so much blood on his face that he wasn't recognizable. You wanted to kill him, you tried to, but Tim was the one to swoop in the last minute, stopping you from something you would regret for the rest of your life.

You broke down in his arms, crying that your brother was gone and that he was right, killing the Joker wouldn't bring him back. Tim held you as you bawled, promising that he would be there for you, no matter the pain. You just wanted to feel something other than the heartbreak that filled your chest - so Tim changed that.

Instead of grief, he filled you with happiness, love, desire. Upon trying to help you, Tim fell in love with you along the way. He spent hours with you, training to be better, crying on the year death of your brother, anything  to distract you from the pain. He was there with you every step of the way.

He was scared to tell you how he felt. Scared that you only saw him as a crutch rather than a lover.

On the night of a Wayne gala, he couldn't hold his tongue any longer. You wore the most gorgeous gown that he had ever seen, or maybe it was just because you were the one in it. So, when the two of you danced, hand in hand and effortless gliding across the ballroom, he ended the dance with a kiss.

You weren't expecting it, but the moment that he had his lips on yours, you completely melted into him. Feelings that you never realized were even there erupted through your whole body, a happiness that you hadn't felt since that day. Tim swept you off your feet, literally.

You were happy with Tim. He brought a smile to your face on the hardest of days. Patrolling became something that you looked forward to again rather than feeling like a chore. You were no longer as violent as you once were, Bruce was slowly feeling the same way. Tim brought a light to both of your lives.

Things finally seemed like they were getting back to a place of normalcy. You could sleep at night without waking up from a nightmare, visit Jason's grave (something that was always too painful to do before Tim), even go into Jason's old room. Things were getting easier, but the pain was still there.

"Batgirl to Robin," you spoke over the comms. It was a pretty normal night on patrol - a few common thugs but nothing major. A new and improved Batgirl suit covered your body - you had finally outgrown the old one.

"Robin."

"How do you feel about a late night sushi date after this?" It was nearing the end of your guys night and you were starting to get hungry. The bright lights of a 24-hour sushi restaurant were catching your attention.

"You always hated sushi."

The voice made you jump. This wasn't Tim's voice, in fact it wasn't even over the comms. It was coming from right behind you. Not very many people could sneak up on you - in fact only Batman was able to and this sure as hell wasn't Batman. A tall man with a red helmet and guns holstered on his hips stood before you.

His voice was distorted and you had no idea who it was or where they had come from. Gotham was filled with all kinds of crazy, but only few were skilled enough to best you.

However, it was what he had known about you that threw you off - hating sushi. It was true, you never liked sushi until you met Tim. He had taken you there on a date one evening and before you could complain about the choice of food, he had given you the best meal of your life. Not only did you like the food now, but eating it always reminded you of him.

You decided that attacking first, asking questions later was your best choice. You didn't know who this guy was but you weren't planning on finding out the hard way. This guy could be wanting to kill you - not that you would be surprised. After upholding the mantle for several years after Barbra, you had a pretty long list of enemies.

This guy, wasn't one of them. Yet.

Whoever he was, he knew how to fight. Every move that you pulled on him, he somehow knew how to block, counter, or predict. He managed to dodge nearly all of your attempts at a batarang hit and those that he wasn't able to dodge, deflected off of his helmet. He was good, maybe better than you.

You landed several good punches on him. Since his helmet seemed to be strong, you aimed for the ribs, the knees, and shoulders. However, it seemed that with every hit you got, he had returned. Pain flared up in your ribs and you were sure that they were cracked, if not broken.

The man's kick had pushed you across the roof and you landed painful against the ground. A loud groan was emitted and all the wind was knocked out of your lungs. This guy was good, there was no way that you could take him on your own.

"Robin I-" you never got to finish you sentence. A loud gunshot rang out with a bullet zooming right by your ear. Ringing filled your head and you flinched away from your earpiece.

"Batgirl? Batgirl! What happened? (Y/N)!" Tim yelled. You didn't dare reach to try and speak to him again. Not when his gun was out and pointed right at you. Instead, you raised your arms in a temporary surrender. This man, he obviously wanted something otherwise he would have shot you already.

"What do you want? Who are you?" He never lowered his gun. You narrowed your eyes at him, "you're not going to kill me, so what the hell do you want. Better make it quick, the Bats is on his way."

"You've gotten better at being Batgirl," He finally spoke again. The modulated voice rang loud and clear in the traffic filled night. "I still beat you though, just like always."

Just like always? What the hell was this guy talking about. You had never met him before in your life. You had fought a lot of people in your line of work but you would have remember someone like him - someone that could put you on your ass in a matter of minutes.

A fear began to well in your chest about what was going to happen to you. A fear that maybe this man would bring you to the same demise as your brother. It had been a long time since you feared death.

"What do you want?" You repeated a final time. With a wince, you pushed yourself off the ground, eye level with the barrel of his gun. Obviously, he didn't trust you enough for you to be standing without a weapon pointed between your eyes. You just hoped that Tim and Bruce would show up fast enough before this guy could do anything to you.

"Your brother would be disappointed in you."

Your breath caught in your throat. How did he know about Jason? How did he know what had happened to him? And mostly importantly, how did he know that you could never bring yourself to kill the joker? This man knew who you were, your real identity - or maybe he was just bluffing.

You didn't give him a reaction, that had to have been what he was looking for. How he knew your brother - and you- and why he was interested in the relationship, left you more confused than anything. You wanted to know how this man was, and more importantly, you wanted to know what he wanted.

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know everything about you," he argued, his voice rising. "You couldn't avenge your brother, you let Batman replace him, what else have you done?"

"He never would have wanted me to cross that line, because he knew I would never be able to come back!" You matched his voice. Your fists clenched at your sides and you suddenly felt furious that this man standing in front of you pretended that he knew who you were and who Jason was.

"He would have wanted you to make sure that no one took the mantle of Robin again, he would have wanted you to make sure that no one would have to share the same death as him but what did you do? You welcomed the replacement right into your bed!" This man seemed to know more about your life than you would have ever thought.

Very few people knew your identity, Tim's, and Bruce's. You made sure that it was kept well under wraps so that cases like this would never have happened. No, this stranger was taunting you in the worst kinds of ways - your brother, and what he meant to you.

You always thought that you had done Jason's memory well - maybe not perfect but he wouldn't have been wanted to be remembered as the perfect son. He was brave, dauntless, he acted real and never caved into the posh society that the two of you were dragged into. Jason was human, and you made sure he was remembered that way.

Your jaw clenched and you swore that you face twitched in anger. Seeing red, you didn't notice that the man had picked up one of your previously thrown batarangs and threw it right into your shoulder. You cried out in pain and before you could retaliate, he was gone. You braced yourself for the pain and pulled out the metal just as Tim arrived on the rooftop with you.

"(Y/N)," Tim sighed in relief. He rushed over to you, pulling you into a tight hug. His hands cupped your face and without thinking, he kissed you. "I was so worried, you didn't answer and I heard the gunshot. I thought you were dead." You shook your head, still fazed by the interaction.

"He knew who I was," You voice trembled. You finally looked over at Tim. He saw the blood drip from your shoulder and pressed his hand into the wound to hopefully slow the bleeding. "He knew who Jason was. Tim, h-he... the things he said, he thought that I would have been a disappointment to him."

"You know that's bull," Tim promised you. You were too much of an emotional mess to even feel the pain coursing through your body. "Jason would be so proud of the person you've become. You've saved so many lives - he would be happy for you. We're going to find this guy, he'll get the justice he deserves."

"No," You shook your head. The anger that he had cast upon you only kept growing in your chest. No one, disrespected your brother's memory, ever. You were going to make sure of that. 

"I want him dead."

[tothemeadow]

Commissioned by @azurenocturne​

Douma x Reader

- After your friend disappears while investigating the Eternal Paradise, you decide to follow after her. Little do you know, but the leader of the cult, Upper Moon Two, is as beautiful as he is conniving... - 

warnings: mentions of death, blood, and gore

words: 2.1k

-

Birds of a feather flock together, but not this time. She’s walking on an unfolded road in a distant dream, long gone, almost forgotten. Sometimes, her laughter rings in your ears. Sometimes, when you close your eyes, you can see that very day, cloaked with white and the chill of winter.

It’s because of her that you’re the person you are today.

Seasons have passed, as have many moons; day by day, you wait for your crow to bring you an ounce of good news, but to no avail. Months have gone by, and yet your friend has still not uttered a single word.

You’re confident in her skills, of course. She’s a tough fighter, practically too stubborn to die, but paranoia follows you around, wraps around you tightly during the night’s long hours. You figure it must be because of the façade she must put up – to be captured means death.

The lead she told you about was strong, and she was more than determined to follow it to its ends and meet the leader for herself. The Eternal Paradise, as she explained, where Upper Moon Two leads blind followers to their deaths. It’s disgusting, isn’t it?

From your understanding, some demon sat on a pile of corpses and bones with an entourage of mindless sheep waiting for slaughter. It is disgusting, down to the tiniest detail. You encouraged your friend to take down such a damned blood-thirsty creature, but you sent her off with plenty of warnings in your stead. If anything looked to shady or dangerous to deal with, you begged her to make her return home. She didn’t deserve to die in a place like that, not to people like those.

You wish you were naïve. You wish you could tell yourself that it would be okay, that your friend will come back to you safe and sound someday, but that’s not the case. Your gut told you otherwise, warned you of the truth. She was in danger and needed help, whether she liked it or not. You had to follow down that same road, seemingly disappear and become one with this so-called “organization.”

She was going to come home.

-

“You’ll like it here, sister,” Hanako says, voice devoid of all emotion. Hanako was appointed as your ”guide,” told to show you around the mansion, provide the ins and outs of how the cult worked. Unlike the others straggling in the halls, her expression is plain and lifeless. With hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes, you wondered what hell she must’ve been through to find herself living in the halls of the Eternal Paradise.

As you pass the others, they turn to you with way too pleasant smiles, their eyes squinting to the point where it looks painful. There’s no way that they’re that happy to be here, right…? Surely, they’d have to notice how some of their fellow followers randomly disappear from time to time. It’s possible that their demon leader manipulates them to forget, or straight out threatens them to keep silent…

“You’ll be staying in here,” Hanako says, coming to an abrupt stop in front of a room. The room itself is on the smaller side, nearly devoid of any furniture besides a rolled-up futon sitting to the side. “This is where I reside,” Hanako continues. “There used to be another, but then they decided to leave.” Stepping inside, Hanako unceremoniously drops the spare futon and pillow she was holding onto the floor.        

The hairs on the back of your neck stand straight at her ominous words. “Uh, what do you mean, they left? I thought anybody who became part of the… Eternal Paradise would never want to leave?” Saying the words leaves a nasty taste in your mouth; you’re a slayer, for gods’ sakes. You shouldn’t even be here, but you’re determined to find your friend. It’s partially your fault that she came here all by herself; you should’ve tagged along, made sure she wasn’t alone when going up against a cult.

Hanako blinks at you, her eyes a cold, empty shell. “They died.”

What?

“Everyone lives, everyone dies. That’s life, after all,” Hanako says. “They left before they passed. To die in this sacred place… It’s repulsive. Our lord doesn’t deserve such disrespect. Imagine if I woke up to a corpse and had to tell our lord? He’d punish me for not dealing with it.”

Swallowing thickly, you turn away. If Hanako was afraid of telling the demon that somebody died – that in itself raises an alarm, jeez – then what were they even like? Cruel and ruthless, obviously; why so followers, then? Don’t they know who they’re even dealing with?

“Hmmm, I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” a new voice says.

Hanako squeaks, then, whirling around to the door and snapping over in a deep bow. “Fool,” she hisses at you, “what do you think you’re doing? Show some respect!”

Glancing towards the door, your entire mouth goes dry in an instant. A large, muscular man almost completely fills the doorway, his wide shoulders nearly spanning the entire length of the opening. He’s beautiful, simply put; birch hair, multicolored eyes, a face carved by the gods. The man’s entire being oozes with power and intensity, yet his enticing scent is tinged with blood. So, this is the leader, Upper Moon Two, it seems. After another moment’s hesitation, you follow after Hanako and bend at the waist.

“Forgive me, my lord,” Hanako stammers. Rather than her monotonous tone before, she addresses her leader with the outmost respect. “The newcomer obviously needs to learn the proper mannerisms.”

The demon giggles. Shivers run down your spine; he isn’t like any other demon you’ve encountered, not by a longshot. The room becomes even more cramped as he steps in, his large body mere steps away from you. “Stand, my darlings,” he purrs.

Hanako shoots upright, her usual blank expression twisted into a pleased grin. Wringing her hands before her, she rocks back and forth on her heels, seemingly having a bit of trouble holding back her excitement. Like her, you stand straight, but you take the chance to truly analyze the man before you.

True, while he is one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen, you’re all too aware of what he really is, what he really does. Cocking his head, his long hair sweeps over his shoulder, frames his attractive face. He flashes you a knowing smile. Heart dropping to your stomach, you wonder if he knows who you are, just like you know who he is.    

“I don’t think that will be much of an issue,” he continues. Offering his hand to you, he silently urges you to take it. “Welcome to the Eternal Paradise,” he purrs, “My name is Douma.”

-

You’re a fool. A total, complete fool.

How… how could you be so stupid? After all this time, after all the effort into finding your friend… You should have never come. That bastard stole your heart even though you knew it was wrong, terribly so, and yet you did it anyway. Despite knowing Douma is a demon and that he kills people for the fun of it, you fell for him. Hell, you should slit your own stomach for pulling such a move.

He played you this entire time, pulling at your heartstrings and treating you with utmost kindness. You let love get in the way of your mission, cloud your thoughts; for a short while, you believed that maybe things would turn out okay, that you would somehow have a happy ending to the story you call life.

But no, that isn’t how things work. Karma, that bloodthirsty queen, always gets what she wants.

You’re not sure what’s worse – the slurping of blood or the smell of it. No, scratch that; it’s the look in Douma’s eyes, the surge of power and unadulterated hunger. Violent rivers stream from your eyes, ungracefully drip from your chin and onto the wooden planks below. That’s your friend he’s eating, her blood that he drinks.    

“I’ve always preferred female flesh, female blood…” Douma begins, tongue flicking out over his lips. His fangs gleam ruby as he flashes you a smile. “They’re so sweet, so wonderfully soft… How do you do it, love? How is your kind so delicious?”

“Don’t you dare call me that!” you growl. “You don’t have the bloody right to.”

Placing a bloody hand to his chest, Douma has the audacity to look offended. “That’s not what you said last night.” The corners of his mouth curl salaciously, a dark giggle spilling from his lips. “If I recall correctly, you were begging for more, my little slayer.”

That makes it even worse. Cursing yourself internally, your grip on your blade tightens. There’s no point in trying to hide it anymore; Douma knew exactly who you were from the get-go. Both yours and your friend’s missions were complete and utter failures. You’ve entered a damned slaughterhouse, for gods’ sakes. You should’ve seen this coming, but your feelings got in the way.

“You never loved me, you twat,” you spit.

Douma cocks his head, drops your friend’s severed hand. “No, no, no,” he begins, drawing himself to his monstrous height, “that’s where you’re wrong. The truth is, well, I’ve never loved anyone!” He breaks into a malicious cackle, then, his whole face twisting with mirth. “And to think you fell in love with me! I’ll admit, I liked you better than the others, but loved? Don’t flatter yourself, dear. Nobody could ever love you, especially not me.”

“I’ll pin your fucking head to a spike and watch you burn.”

Through your torrent of tears, you spring at him, an animalistic growl ripping itself from your throat. Despite the grotesque, bloodcurdling rage surging through your veins, you have to remind yourself to breathe. People used to tell you all the time that you’re worthless, weak, and that you should give up on becoming a proper slayer. At the time, you’ve become so angry that they were right; being a Breath of Water user, you could never get the technique correct. You envied others (mostly Tomioka Giyuu, the Water Pillar) for their abilities.

If it weren’t for your friend taking you to that viewing on that magical winter’s day, you would have never grown. No, you weren’t a Breath of Water user anymore; you honed your skills into something new, something wonderful. Breath of Ice is something to behold in itself, albeit relatively new. You’re proud of your graceful, fluid movements, but that nagging voice in the back of your head tells you that it’s pointless, just like what everyone else said before.

You didn’t want to do this, swirling around in a furious blizzard of snow and ice, floating and skirting around your friend’s remains. Douma follows through with each attack, nimbly dodging your blade, your range of attacks. In time, your body is covering with miniscule cuts, barely thicker than a hair, but the sheer amount of blood pouring from them is obscure. How much you’ve lost, you don’t know, but seeing crimson decorate the floor and Douma’s metallic fans tells more than you want to know.

It’s no good; he’s too strong, too fast, and he seems to know every single move you plan to make. Your face is wet with blood and tears, your vision blurring, snot running from your nose. A punched-out groan bursts from your chest as you’re knocked to the side, back colliding with the wall. You collapse to the ground with an unceremonious thump.

Gasping for breath, you scramble for your blade, fingernails digging into the wood in your desperation. A foot comes down on your hand, then, making you cry out in pain.

“I really thought you’d put up more of a fight,” Douma sneers. Dropping to his knee, he leans down over you, his hair curtaining his face. “Trying to take on an Upper Moon with an underdeveloped breathing technique… You’re so stupid!” With another cackle, he presses the tip of a fan to your throat. “You came all this way to save your little friend, and now look where you are! She’s dead! Funny how that works…”

“I’ll kill you, you lying bastard,” you wheeze.

“Love, you aren’t really in the position to say such things,” Douma says, his voice suddenly turning softer. It’s the same tone he used during the lovelier moments, the moments where he held you close and stroked your naked body. “I’ll let you stay with me forever, though. You’d make such a great decoration!”

“Douma, no-“

Splat.

[ffangirlingsince2001]

End of the Tunnel: IV

George Weasley x Reader

Description: It’s almost been a year since Freed Weasley was lost to the Battle of Hogwarts, and for George Weasley it might as well be an eternity. He is lost in the dark, no color to be found. Until suddenly there might be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING, mentions of suicide, cutting, language, angst!!!! (I’m very serious if this messes with your mind DO NOT READ).

MASTERLIST

***

Hannah had been living with him for three weeks. And what a three weeks it had been. There was never a dull moment living with George Weasley. One night she had shown up to a water gun fight and the next a candlelit dinner he had cooked almost entirely on his own (Hermione had been a bit of help where magic failed). He helped her clean after work whenever the shop didn’t keep him late. He held her until morning as they curled beneath the sheets of his drafty apartment, never hesitating to grab another one of his mother’s knitted blankets when she even so much as shivered. He was loving and kind and sweet. He laughed at her stories and even added a few tales from school of his own. He was never impatient when she struggled to understand some wizarding device she had not yet encountered (“It’s a bird of prey!”). Honestly, it had been the best three weeks of her life.

Everything seemed to be perfect until she was returning to his apartment one late night. The town drunk had refused to leave, escalating to a fight with one of her waiters, drawing in cops and a medic for the cuts and bruises left by shards of glass. When she pushed her key into the lock, she immediately knew something was wrong. Nothing was out of place and there was nothing profoundly disturbing, but the air hung like tragedy was waiting to strike.

“George,” she called into the house, jumping as her voice contrasted the heavy silence of the room. “George,” she called again, gently stepping towards the slightly ajar bathroom door. She stretched her hand forward and pushed it open, unable to stop the blood-curdling scream the escaped her throat when she found what was inside.

He was sitting in the bathtub with hair askew and a bottle of firewhiskey, mostly gone, resting in his hand. But that wasn’t what worried her, it was the thin cuts that traipsed up his arm like a morbid train track.

She was on her knees in a second, crouching over him as she sobbed.

“George, George, look at me,” she sobbed, and he glanced at her, tears mixing with the streak of blood across his cheek. He seemed so lost and afraid.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” he whispered, and she shook her head, grabbing bandages and climbing into the bathtub as she cried. She straddled his waist and pulled him close. “You’re always home by midnight, but you didn’t come, I thought you weren’t coming back. I thought you were gone.” They both were sobbing now.

“No, I promised. I promised you I’d never leave, and I don’t break my promises,” she cried trying to bandage his wrists. He yanked them away to cover his face, but she held tight, tightly wrapping the gauze around the shallow cuts. They weren’t bleeding much, but every time she glanced at them her stomach churned, threatening to empty her rushed dinner from earlier in the evening. “George, look at me.” She placed a kiss to his forehead. “Please, I need you to look at me,” she cried and eventually, through the emotional turmoil he did so.

His eyes were red from the firewhiskey and puffy from the crying, face so full of sadness he looked like a child who had not received anything on a dreary Christmas morning. She ran his hands over his cheeks, softly wiping away the tears that had been shed.

“George, there was an accident at the bar, I had to stay a bit later to take care of it. I’m sorry,” she explained, and he nodded, tears still sliding down his cheeks. “Please, don’t ever do this to yourself,” she said ushering to his wrists, “You have to promise me, please George.” He halfheartedly nodded but she persisted. “George, I’m serious. I can’t lose you, not to something as terrible as this.” She was crying harder now, fingers pressing subconsciously into the fresh wounds.

“Hannah, I promise, I promise I won’t,” he told her, pulling her tight, sobering up with every second she remained within her presence. They didn’t move from the bathtub that night, holding one another until they fell asleep and woke up with cricks in their backs.

While the three weeks before that had been the best weeks of her life, that day had been the worst, far worse than anything the death eaters had managed to inflict upon her psyche. When they had woken up she had made him promise one more time.

That must have been why when she returned to the house in the middle of the day two weeks later she had been hysterics.

Just like that night she had opened the door, and this time there was no heavy tension in the air, only his body on the kitchen floor.

She heard screaming, harsh and shrill against the silence, and it wasn’t until it was filled with crying that she realized it was hers. It was her scream echoing against linoleum, shaking the dishes and rattling the silverware as she fell to his side. His name never left her lips as she shook his shoulder, praying to whatever god that would listen. She prayed he would wake up and that the blood would return to the two long cuts up either arm. It was a sea of blood, staining the grout and her nails as she tried to pull him into her arms. God it was everywhere, spread across the floor like the cruel slaughter it was. She didn’t want to look at it, but it was impossible to look away. It coated her hands and her arms, staining her blouse all the way down to her shoes. No one should have that much blood, it seemed impossible for someone to have so much. It seemed impossible that it was his, spread across the floor. It just couldn’t be possible, not him, not now, not when he had fucking promised. He had said he wouldn’t do it, he had fucking promised. He just kept slipping back to the tile, cold, heavy… lifeless. It was a wonder none of the neighbors came as she screamed for help, the silencing charms he had once placed on their home should have been nonexistent against the wails of despair that slipped from her lips until her throat ached.

“Wake up! Wake up! Please, I’m fucking begging you wake up!” she screamed until she was hoarse.

It seemed no one would come, no one would help her pick up the pieces that were spread across the floor like a cruel joke. The world was playing a cruel joke on her, by ending when everything had just been beginning. It wasn’t fair, there had to be a way, there just had to. He was a wizard god damn it.

And then suddenly she felt familiar arms wrap around her, holding her tight as she cried. At first she was sure it was just her imagination, until she managed to hear her name through her own cries.

“Hannah,” it called and she turned to find him standing there. She blinked, rubbing away the tears, pressing her hands to his face, just to ensure that it was actually him. He felt there and the way his breath brushed her cheek felt real. She glanced behind her, and the body was still there but it looked different somehow. The alive George pushed her behind him and pulled out his wand, pointing it at the dead version of himself and the body turned to a ball of energy before being banished the a trunk that shook with vigor once it was locked tight. “Hannah, it’s okay, look at me, it’s not real.” She looked down and the blood was gone. It was just her on the floor with George holding her.

“What, I, I don’t.”

“It was a boggart,” he consoled, wiping away her tears.

“A- a what?”

“It shows you your biggest fear. Nasty creatures, I can’t believe we have one this far out of the wizarding world.”

“Oh,” she whispered, turning towards where he had once lain., “I’m glad that’s all.” And with a sudden zeal she pulled him tight against her, breathing deeply what she had thought she had lost only moments ago. He offered her a weary smile and she returned with one of her own.

“I’ll take care of it tomorrow with Ron, but now you should get some sleep.” It felt like hours since she had found the figment of his body, but the sun was still high above them.

“I have to go to work,” she protested but he shook his head.

“No, you don’t. Call someone in, you’re exhausted,” he said, noting the way her shoulders stooped over when he released her. She nodded and he carried her to bed, climbing in beside her. Her arms wrapped around him tighter than they ever had.

That night he waited until she was asleep before sweeping through the kitchen in search of every knife in the place. He bagged them all, doing his best to not let them rattle against each other, and then he chucked them into the bin outside their home. The kitchen was clear of her fears and with a nod he climbed back into bed, if they really needed them he was sure Ron wouldn’t be opposed.

[wreckofawriter]

The World Stilled

Pairing: Carl Grimes x reader

Word Count: 1.8k (sorry its so short)

Warnings: Zombies, panic attack

Request: @alex-sulli the carl grimes imagine, i was thinking like a fluffy imagine where the reader is worried about finding everyone/alexandria falling and he reassures her :,) you can choose either

A/n: I choose Alexandria, I tried writing on the road cuz season four and five are my favorite but it sucked so I deleted it. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

    It didn’t matter where in the walls you were. You could hear them. You could always hear them. The groans and growls of the monsters that had taken over your world were constant in your ears. You pretend it didn’t bother you because it shouldn’t have, you should have been able to walk around like you weren’t trapped inside of a metal coffin. You could live, you would live. That’s what you kept telling yourself. The words running over and over in your head until they lost their meaning and it was gibberish you continued to say. 

    You took as many gate watches as you could, it was better when you could see them, look them in their lifeless eyes, and know what you were up against. You hated hiding from them, it made you unsure, it made you feel like you were in the dark. 

    All-day you were running equations and scenarios through your head. If something were to happen how quickly could you get to Judith? Where was Carl if you needed to run? How much food was in your house? How many could you take out before you were cornered? Carl noticed how distant you got. He saw the way your eyes always darted towards the walls as if to check and see if they were still standing, the way you jumped when he walked up behind you or how your fingers were always dancing around your gun. You were paranoid, just as you had been when they found you, how you had been on the road, how you had been for weeks after first finding these walls. And now you were here again, alert and frightened. 

    Ron wasn’t helping, he had always made you uneasy. something about him made your mind scream. Now he was carrying around a gun, his eyes watching Carl a bit too carefully, you were just being paranoid, you knew that but something still screamed as you watched Rick teach him to shoot. But you were just paranoid. 

    You told Michonne about your fear and she had said it was what kept you alive. You supposed that was true. You couldn’t afford to relax, you knew if you did, you died and the people you loved died. But it was tiring to be paranoid. It was exhausting to jump at every shadow, never get a full night of rest, to run scenario after scenario until you went insane. Sometimes you wished you were as brain dead as some so you could finally take a break. 

    “Are you alright?” Carl’s voice broke you from your spiraling thoughts. He climbed the ladder to stand next to you as you scorned the walkers below you, eyebrows scrunched lip tucked between your teeth. 

    You nodded stiffly, “Fine.” What if you had people shoot from two different sections of the wall, would that clear a path? Or maybe you could use the Wolf’s bodies, if the walkers went to feed a few could escape. But the bodies were cold now, it was no use. 

    “You seem..” He paused looking for the right word, “Jumpy.” 

    You glanced to your side, your right hand ghosting your gun as it always did now. Carl was staring at you, his blue flannel open, a white t-shirt underneath surprisingly unstained. His hair blew away from his face in the slight breeze. “I wonder why.” you scoffed. 

    “These walls are going to hold.” he responded plainly, “I know they will.”

    “Then we’ll starve to death.” You were only half kidding. Your eyes moved back to the walkers. You had about three months worth of food, four if you rationed right, two if people stole. You needed to find a way out. Maybe tunnel under the wall? 

    “I know that look,” Carl spoke up again.

    Your eyes remained on a dead thing, its jaw was dangling from its face, you wondered if it happened before or after it died.

    “You’re thinking. Think about how to survive.” Carl continued, “You used to do it all the time, at Terminus it never left your face, on the road, it didn’t either.” 

    You refused to speak, focusing on the crowd in front of you.

    “I remember when my dad found you and brought you back to the prison you looked at me the same way, like you were guessing how much longer we would all last. Patrick was terrified of you.” He chuckled, “You looked the same way when we first got here, you placed a three-week life span on this place. I remember you telling me that.”

    “I guess I was wrong.” You shrugged, “It was four.”

    Carl sighed, licking his lips, “Look at me y/n.” 

    You snapped your eyes to his own, there were so blue it was almost startling. His soft smile was gone, replaced with a worried look that dislodged something in your chest. 

    “This place isn’t dead yet. I won’t let it die. I need it, you need it, Judith needs it. We can’t afford to let it die.” He took a step towards you, “So stop making escape plans, you can’t jump ship yet.” 

    You swallowed thickly “I can if it’s sinking.” 

    You hadn’t been this angry in a long time, you felt so pathetic, you were helpless, weak. Rick expected you to just wait for dead people to come save you. You were going to die here and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it. You couldn’t stand it. Your heart raced as you picked up a dart, its board was a few meters in front of you but you turned your back to it to look at the photos on the walls. Stock photos of kids who were dead now laughing, a dad serving lemonade, picnics, and blue skies. The first dart bounced off the glass so you pulled your arm back more thrusting the second as hard as you could at the little girl in a french braid and a red dress. The glass cracked, You raised a third, tears clouding your vision as you blindly thrust it forwards hitting the wall where it stuck with a hollow thump. 

You were going to die here. 

    The nights were always the worst. It didn't matter how many doors and gates were between you and them, their constant murmur could always be heard. You tried to bury your head in pillows, you tried earplugs, headphones. It took you two days to realize it was all in your head. The one place no matter how far you ran, you could never escape from. You hadn’t had a panic attack in a long time. Since before, you used to get them over stupid things like science projects and presentations. Now as you chocked on your own breaths it was because you were going to die. Soft sobs echoed around your dark room as you tried to make up for the air you were losing with gasping breaths. Tears clouded your vision, your nose was clogged, you felt like you were slowly suffocating. Your head thumped behind your eyes and the sound of walkers continued. 

    You jumped at the sudden hand on your shoulder, you would have screamed if you had the breath. Your glassy eyes locked with Carl.

    “You’re okay y/n,” He spoke calmly kneeling in front of you. 

    You shook your head wildly, the thick sheen of tears finally falling from your eyes and sliding down your cheeks. “We’re going to die.” you cried, “We’re all going to die.” 

    “You’re not gonna die.” He said so firmly you almost believed it, “I’m not going to, Judith isn’t, my dad isn’t. No one is going to die.” 

    You hiccupped a whimper ripping from your throat, “You don’t know that.” 

    “Yes, I do.” He answered without hesitation, “Now I need you to take a deep breath okay? You’re gonna breathe with me.” 

    You nodded taking in a shaky breath and realizing it. Carl sat in front of you breathing in and out slowly until your hands no longer shook and your heartbeat had calmed. It was silent now, the dead’s noise was gone, replaced by crickets and frogs. 

    “I can’t watch you die, Carl.” You said, “I can’t watch anyone else die.” 

    “You won’t have to.” He spoke, a small smile on his lips, “We are going to make it. I swear.” 

    “How can you be so sure?” you wondered aloud, “How can you know that?” 

    “I just do.” He replied.

    You felt so tired, your eyelids heavy with the weight of shed tears, your head was still aching dully and your limbs felt numb. 

    Carl noticed as your body slumped in on itself. He stood, offering you a hand and pulling you to your feet. You fell into your bed, Carl headed for the door. 

    “Good night y/n.” When he went to shut the door behind him panic set in. You could hear them again, the clash of their rotting teeth, their growls and sickening moans. 

    “Wait!”

    Carl stopped in his tracks, turning back to face you.

    “Please don’t leave.” You begged, “I can hear them when you leave, please don’t leave me.”

    He didn’t question your sanity. He didn’t ask who they were. He didn’t have to. Instead, he walked back inside your room closing the door. You moved over in your bed as he kicked off his shoes and lifted your blankets, lying beside you. It was quiet again.

    “Thank you.” You mumbled turning onto your side to face him. 

    Carl followed your actions, his face was illuminated by the soft moonlight drifting through the window over your shoulder, his eyes almost glowing in the silver light. “Anything for you y/n.” 

    You moved closer to him, burying your head into his chest and fisting his t-shirt. You felt him stiffen for a moment before his arms fell around you drawing you towards him. You could hear his heartbeat, its quickened pace drowning out the endless thoughts in your mind. He smelt of lavender, his warmth surrounding you. 

    “Y/n?” Carl whispered.

    You turned your head up to look at him, head tilted slightly in a silent question. 

    He paused for a moment too long, his eyes flirting across your face delicately. “I love you.”

    The world stilled, the dust in the moonlight air stopped moving, the dead outside the walls froze, the living inside halting their breaths.

“I love you too,” you mumbled. 

His hand found your cheek, his thumb tracing along your jawline before resting underneath your chin and lifting your face to his. Your lips met hesitantly, eyes fluttering shut. His lips were soft and light against your own. Your hands ran up his chest wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. His tongue grazed the seam of your lips and you tilted your chin to deepen the kiss. 

When you pulled apart you were both blushing, your breaths coming in short pants. 

“You are so beautiful.” Carl murmured and you buried your head into his neck to hide the roses blooming on your cheeks. 

Masterlist

[arcane-cosmetics]

Rating: T (liable to change)

Fandom: Critical Role (Campaign 2)

Relationship: Nott | Veth Brenatto/Caleb Widogast

Additional Tags: Mutual Pining, Minor Yeza Brenatto/Nott | Veth Brenatto, Luc Brenatto mentions, chapter 1 Veth character study, character death mention, spoilers for Nott backstory, Canon Divergent, spoilers up to 2x97

Summary:

Caleb had imagined every way this interaction could logically go, calculated every move and every word in the overly practiced speech he had prepared, planned for any and every reaction Veth could have. Now, finally standing here with her, as Veth stared up at him—his mind drew a blank.

Read it on AO3

“Oh.” Caleb’s voice hung suspended in air for a moment. Time seemed to stop. He felt as if all the breath in his lungs had been punched out of him when the door swung open—the door he had been standing in front of for exactly 1 hour 28 minutes and 42 seconds.

Caleb rubbed his forearms and ran his hands through his hair, stalling, before finally breaking the awkward silence that would understandably follow finding a man standing outside a woman’s room unwarranted at 3:14 in the morning.

“Ah, Veth, I am—I am sorry to disturb you. May—may I come in?”

“Oh! Oh, of course! I’m sorry, please come in!” Veth’s eyes were wide and ringed in dark circles, making the yellow of her irises all the more stark. She stood unmoving a second longer before suddenly realizing her inactivity and quickly opening the door wider to allow her visitor access.

Caleb nodded solemnly before briskly stepping into the room, eyes forward as if walking into battle. The door made a soft click behind him and the barely audible sound of small feet padded up beside him. Caleb had imagined every way this interaction could logically go, calculated every move and every word in the overly practiced speech he had prepared, planned for any and every reaction Veth could have. Now, finally standing here with her, as Veth stared up at him with concern and confusion written across her brow, clad in a delicate nightgown he had never seen her in and—scheisse, the room even smelled like her—his mind drew a blank.

Veth’s raspy voice broke through the white noise that had overtaken his brain. “Caleb? Is something wrong? You don’t look so good. Do you need some water? Do you need to lay down?”

She reached for a pitcher of water and a glass from her bedside table. Caleb interrupted, much louder and harsher than he meant to.

“Nein. Nein, I am okay. I just—” He took a deep breath. “Never mind that. I came to speak with you, Veth.”

Every muscle in his body was tense in expectation of her telling him to go, saying how inappropriate it was to be in her room so late at night, especially with her husband right down the hall. Caleb could not look at her. His eyes were instead fixed on the nightstand at her side. He was afraid if he saw her he would lose his nerve, that all of this would become real, that—that tonight was the last night he would see his best friend, that when morning came he would never be able to call her name again. That tomorrow he would finally reunite her with her family, and for the second time in his life, destroy his own.

“Oh.”

Caleb’s vision shot to Nott—Veth’s—face. He had barely heard her speak, her voice was so quiet, with a softness tempered only by her surprise.

“Well, alright Caleb. What’s up?”

She sat on the edge of the bed, her gentle surprise hardened once again into concern. Something else, a different emotion, played along the edges of her mouth which pressed into a thin line. Was it fear Caleb saw there? Was she scared of him? Of being alone with him? He should not have looked at her so directly. His thoughts were swirling—an unfathomable cacophony of self-doubt and loathing.

Again, Veth’s voice is able to cut through the tumult of his mind.

“Caleb, are you sure you’re alright? Why don’t you come sit down?”

Caleb took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. He marched over to the bed, a foot or so away from where Veth sat. His posture was rigid as he sank into the soft down mattress. He was starting to get a headache.

“I—I have been meaning to have this conversation with you for a long time now. The timing never seemed right; there were always more pressing business to attend to, it seemed. Or so I told myself. Now, though,” He gave a half hearted chuckle. “it is the eleventh hour, so to speak.”

Veth’s eyes fervently searched his face. Caleb had been looking at his hands while he spoke, clamping them together so as not to pick at his scars. He didn’t need to look up, though, to feel her penetrating gaze burning into his skin.

“I have been scared of this conversation, of even acknowledging the need for it.” Caleb was well aware he had not stated what this conversation was about yet. He wasn’t purposefully trying to stall, but the words stuck in his throat, on the verge of choking him. “I was afraid if—if I told you my feelings, everything would change and it did not seem fair of me to push my feelings onto you. It would seem that change is coming whether I like it or not. And I do not want to have been dishonest with my very best friend.” Caleb takes one of her hands in both of his own. His long, pale hands were such a contrast to her small green claws. Veth’s hands had a comforting warmth against his cold palms.

“Everyday since I have met you has been better for it. More full of joy and laughter and—and life than I ever thought would be possible for someone like me.”

Veth opened her mouth to protest what he had just said, probably to say he deserved all those things or that he should not be so self-deprecating. But he could not stop, it was all spilling forth now, like a dam had broken inside him and he could not halt the rushing of the oncoming tide, even if he tried.

“Please, Veth, I—I need to get this out before I no longer can. Please. I cannot imagine who I would be without you. You have very literally kept me sane. You have encouraged me and believed in me when I was a broken shell of a man who did not have a penny to his name. Who was so racked with trauma he could barely speak. I could not have made a good traveling companion and yet—you stayed. We slept on the side of the road huddled together for warmth, and then slowly that convenience changed to comfort and routine. You showed an interest in what little magic I could do, and it lit something in me that had been dormant for so long. A passion and an excitement. To me it was obvious how smart you were, even then. How capable and how much potential you had. Your hunger for knowledge was something I could relate to.

“So much has happened since those days. When I saw you die while we were in The Folding Halls of Halas, my world shattered. I held your lifeless body in my arms. A million thoughts ran through my mind in that instant of how I could get you out of there, how I could bring you back to me. I could not do anything to save you! If Jester had not been able to bring you back, I—ah scheisse—”

Caleb took in a shuddering breath to calm himself. He could feel Veth rubbing comforting circles into the back of his hand.

“I would have been completely lost. I am a selfish man, Veth. I have no right to say any of this to you. You have a husband and a son that love you very much. Who I will return you to no matter what the personal cost. I will not ask you to feel as I do, but please know, I would not be Caleb Widowgast without you. You have stoked the fire inside me that I had long thought burnt to ash and blown away in the wind. I am forever grateful to you. Everyday we are together I am closer to the man I want to be. For myself and—and also for you.”

Caleb’s eyes connected with Veth. Electricity instantly flowed between them. The room felt as if a single stray spark would set everything ablaze sending the Chateau burning down around them.

“I love you, Veth the Brave.”

[hercleverboy]

CONGRATULATIONS MY LOVE, you deserve this so so much that i cannot even put it into words, although that will not stop me from trying. you are genuinely one of the most talented sweetest people i have ever met, you make me so happy just by messaging me and you’re so supportive and i’m so happy that you’re so successful. i am struggling to think of another person who deserves this more than you, you’re talented, and intelligent and so nice and beautiful and interesting and i’m so so so happy for you and i hope you know that i love you babe💋❤️

NOW SORRY FOR HOW SAPPY THAT WAS but for your celebration can i do🍉💌💓and📒(i’ll let you pick your fav fic of mine cause i would like to hear about dat one from your perspective)

kate’s 1.5k sleepover !! 🥂

holly!! you’re such a sweetheart, I love you very much💞

💓 I’ll give you a compliment!

holly I am about to detail all the ways I love you in your lil’ love letter, however I’ll take this opportunity to remind you what a fantastic writer you are! your ability to encompass spencer’s character always blows me away <3

🍉 I’ll choose one of my wip’s and post a little snippet!

this comes from my wip ‘comatose’, which I only started working on a day or two ago, enjoy!

He gulped, tried to slow the shaking of his hands as he entered the room, pushing the door closed behind him.

When his eyes landed on her, laying in the hospital bed, machines hooked up to her and numerous coloured wires spiralling from her arms, he had to take a moment. He felt his breath catch in his throat, his eyes begin to water at the mere sight of her. It was as though the world had stopped turning, if only for a moment, as he watched her chest move up and down ever so slightly. He felt frozen, unable to move forward. His brain raced with medical facts and statistical probabilities (none of which he liked the sound of.)

Spencer had never felt so helpless.

As if everything had suddenly locked into place, he felt himself moving toward her, his feet seemingly moving on their own accord and he felt himself struggling to catch up with the movements of his own body. All he knew was that he had to get to her, he had to feel her.

He grasped her hand in as tight of a hold as he could, whimpering at how cold her hands felt. His only comfort was that of the heart monitor by her bedside, beeping steadily. He sat down in the chair that was placed beside the bed, holding her hand in both of his and resting his head on her stomach, desperately trying to calm down his erratic breathing. He whispered to himself, reminded himself that she was alive, forced himself to count the beats of her heart as he heard them on the monitor, clutching onto her hand in such a vice-like grip that he was sure she would have winced if she was awake.

After a few moments, having calmed himself down as much as he could in that situation, he looked up at her, watched the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, finding comfort in the slight flush of her cheeks, clinging to any and every sign of life from her— because if Spencer didn’t focus on those then he’d have to admit how petrified he was that she looked so lifeless. Void of all warmth and solace that he usually found within the woman he loved.

Spencer had never felt so helpless.

📒send me a fic of yours and I’ll write a review

since you asked me to choose, I’ve gone for ‘Dancing With Our Hands Tied’ , because you know how much I love a good angst fic (which this certainly is!)

Right out of the gate, Holly hits us right in the heart with the ‘Spencer Reid hated funerals’. I mean, it just immediately sets the tone for this piece, puts this pit in our guts because as a reader we know that this is gonna hurt to read, in the best way possible. It’s that slightly sinking feeling you get with angst where you know it isn’t going to end well for Spencer, but yet it’s already captured you and pulled you in— there’s no way you’re going to stop now. I always find with Holly that she manages to do that so well in all of her pieces. I’m always immediately immersed into the world she creates, always hooked on every word.

And then we have “No matter how many philosophers described love in the most beautiful, enchanting way, Spencer didn’t want it anymore.” That’s such a beautiful sentence, and perfectly encapsulates the way that Spencer feels. He’s watching Hotch lose his wife, and he’s thinking ‘god please, don’t ever let me have to feel a pain like that.’ It’s very life like, so much so that it almost hurts. When you watch those you love, your friends, suffer through such unfathomable pain, and you watch how much it breaks them, you do find yourself hoping that it’ll never happen to you— that you’ll never have to suffer the same fate.

Which ultimately is why this piece is so well written, why it flows so easily and it’s because swearing off of love after watching his friend suffer as a consequence is such a Spencer thing to do. He’s managed to convince himself that in order to protect himself, save himself the hurt, the answer is simply to never fall in love. But of course, in a very Spencer-like fashion, he forgets that we never fall in love on purpose. Love is not so black and white, it is complex in its intricacies and is never so simple. He forgets that we often end up falling when we’re not even searching for love, and is that not just the perfect way for Spencer Reid to find the love of his life? When he really isn’t looking for them?

And then, as all tales of love go, he falls hard and fast for someone when he was least expecting to. (side note: the use of ‘a truly impossible task’ is so good here, mostly because again, holly manages to completely encompass the essence of Spencer’s character. Spencer has never thought he was good enough, a fact we all know. As far as he is concerned, everyone leaves eventually. no one is permanent, no one stays for as long as they say they will. an impossible task indeed.)

I love that his and the readers first date is so spontaneous, a little out of character for him but perfectly so: because it makes so much sense for him to get distracted by a person who manages to enamour him entirely, until suddenly they’ve been talking for hours and he’s thinking of how he nearly missed out on this, how he nearly swore off of love entirely. (the scene of Spencer freaking out over whether the previous night was in fact a date, and what kind of flowers would be appropriate for him to give her— again, so entirely Spencer and so so adorable.)

Spencer deciding that the only logical way to keep the reader safe is to keep them a secret for a while is so incredibly him, because we saw him do that in canon with Maeve. Albeit, she did have a stalker, but Spencer deciding to hide her from the team for so long was for more personal reasons too, because truly he wanted to keep her to himself for a little while longer (which he covered with the whole ‘I wanted to protect her’ thing). but how cute of him to bring the reader flowers too!!! we love the domesticity of it all (especially with him calling them ‘flower’) and then Spencer refuses to let them meet the team, for a lot longer than they thought this relationship was going to be kept a secret. and then he becomes paranoid, of course, because he’s pouring so much into this idea of keeping his partner safe, preventing them from ending up like Haley that he actually manages to jeopardise the entire relationship. (good one, Spence.)

and then the final heart wrenching moment, where all of Spencer’s paranoia and insecurities mount up and he looses the love of his life and his child. it’s ironic, really. that he was so afraid of losing them that he thought he would protect them, but it was those actions that lead to losing them anyway. I really like the theme of flowers throughout this piece, and the symbolism that accompanies them.

the final part being ‘daffodils and daisies. the flowers of new beginnings’ really leaves this fic on a high note; despite all the angsty goodness involved. i love open-ended fics, ones that leave the slightest bit of room for the reader to imagine that things went a different way— perhaps the reader and Spencer meet again someday, and he gets to be a father to his child, or perhaps the reader starts their new beginning and gets to live the life they’d always wanted to, even without Spencer by their side. I love an indefinite ending; because it leaves space for the audience to create their own ending it a way, we get to decide just how sad this can be, or whether it is in a fact a happy ending.

(I cannot recommend holly’s other works enough, I would highly suggest you make your way through her brilliant masterlist)

💌 I’ll handwrite you a lil’ personal love letter!

[avversiera-writes]

try again; in every day we breathe life [tobirama senju/you] - chapter 9

Chapter 9 - Then

Summary: Tobirama, on the verge of death after Ginkaku and Kinkaku staged a coup during the peace ceremony, gathers his last drop of strength to get home.

Word count: ~6k

also available on AO3. 

Chapter 1 - Now | Chapter 2 - Then, part 1 | Chapter 2 - Then, part 2 | Chapter 3 - Now | Chapter 4 - Then | Chapter 5 - Then | Chapter 6 - Now | Chapter 7 - Then | Chapter 8 - Then |

tw// blood, miscarriage, ptsd, panic attacks, another attempted murder, it's really sad but rest assured they will heal

to sum: Tobirama feels helpless

Tobirama’s eyes snap open, and he realizes that it is nighttime. The stars seem closer up here in Kumogakure, as they are a village that is closest to the sky. The night sky glitters before him, and the moon hangs low, so low that Tobirama can see its ridges and craters. On the ground, he is surrounded by cold bodies, and he is splattered by the familiar stickiness of blood. He feels nauseous and he closes his eyes to try and fight it. He should be dead, but he is not, or maybe this is it for him and he is only taking in his last moments. His body is frozen stiff, and there is little that he can feel. He knows that he has been injured badly enough that he had blacked out from it. 

 He turns his head, and he sees the miniature toy dragon that he intends to bring home to his wife and child. He is not much of a sap, but a souvenir from a different place is not bad. 

 The toy dragon is made from jade, but it is small and can be easily missed. It is now covered in blood. 

Tobirama turns to the sky again, and catches a shooting star travelling across one point to another. 

 If he dies here, then everything he has done so far, everything he has set to motion, may all come to a stop. 

Tobirama still has so much more things to do, to accomplish, and promises to live up to. 

A hawk circles over the carnage that the Gold and Silver brothers have wrought. Just as the peace ceremony was going well, Ginkaku and Kinkaku sought to stop the ceremony. Tobirama recognizes the nine-tails’ chakra in them, and before the night fell, he is brought to the verge of death despite giving them a hell of a fight. The Second Raikage was also attacked, but he is not sure if he made it or not. 

 Tobirama closes his eyes, and he notices how little chakra he has left. He can use it to check on his wife and unborn child, and if it is his time, then he will leave this world knowing that his work was not just for naught, that something had worked out and all his sacrifices were worth something. He needs to know that choosing the village over everything, choosing his brother and his dreams were the right choices. 

He is hundreds of miles away, but that is nothing to get to her. 

He seeks her out, searches for her particular chakra signature, now more than unique than ever, but he does not find her where she is supposed to be. He does not have enough chakra to keep looking, and no matter how far he spreads his scope, he cannot feel her. 

 Tobirama’s eyes snap open. 

 Something is wrong. 

A cold fear that forces his heart to beat harder washes over him, and it gives him enough strength to roll to his side. 

 He needs to get home. He needs to do it now. He needs to get to his wife. 

 He is needed . 

He doesn't care if he will lose his life trying to do what is impossible at the moment. He has always been the pinnacle of impossible, and yet. 

 Tobirama groans, realizing that his body is broken. He has multiple fractures in his ribs, and he is already bleeding out, blood as dark as the night pooling under him. He patches himself up hastily, and he reaches for his sword and stands himself up. He is light-headed, and his thoughts are barely starting to make sense, but he has a goal and he will not rest until he accomplishes what he has set out to do. He swallows every doubt and fear, buries them under the mental fortitude that took him years to develop. 

 His wife needs a man, needs her husband, and Tobirama is not always man enough to be worthy of her, he is in pieces and he divides himself everyday and travels further from her as the Hokage. 

 But he is certain that he can save and protect her, so he picks himself up, little by little, piece by piece so that will be the one to be there for her. He cannot give her more, he cannot be anything more, but he will get to her. 

 He will grovel on the ground, if he has to. 

//

Your skin is feverish, and your temperature only continues to increase. It becomes unbearable, and you are gasping for air, trying to find a way to alleviate it. Your thoughts become muddled, and your eyes feel like they are about to bulge out of your skull. Pain laces up and down your spine, and you can only cry and gasp out as you lie on the forest floor. 

 Is this how it ends for you? 

 You think of your husband, and your heart breaks for him. You cannot imagine causing him pain, but you wonder if he will mourn you and your unborn child. He will, in his own way.

You let out a cry as the pain begins to double, and you claw at the ground underneath you. You are completely soaked with sweat, and it is getting harder to breathe.

Someday, the time will come where you will beg for me to come and take your pain away.  

 Madara had once said that, in your dream where he appeared. Is this what he meant? 

You start to shout, as a debilitating cramp takes over your lower belly. Something inside is twisting and clawing you, and the fire that threatens to engulf you inside, that seems to boil your blood makes it worse. 

 Maybe you are also hallucinating, but you see Madara’s silhouette watching you a few feet away. You glimpse at it, and more tears pour from your eyes. 

 He is still your friend. He still haunts you to this day. Is he really dead when he lingers in the shadows of your worst nightmares? No one can protect you from what is in your mind, and maybe that is what Madara had wanted when he appeared in your dream. Maybe you will be the cause of Tobirama’s downfall because you have chosen to believe his words. 

“I’m sorry,” you choke out. “I’m sorry. Please. Please!” 

You continue to weep, feeling hopeless. 

You hear something heavy fall near you, and you start to panic. You are unbelievably defenseless. You search for anything around you, something, a rock, a fragile stick, anything, but a calmness washes over you when you hear your husband whisper your name. You glimpse his crumpled form, and he is on the ground, crawling towards you. His happuri is cracked and it falls to the ground, and his armor has no more use as it did nothing to save him from his injuries. You see that half of his body is covered in blood, and some of it trickle down to the ground. 

“Tobirama!” You gasp, but you let out a strangled scream as something inside you feels like it is cutting away at your belly. 

Tobirama makes it to you, and he gathers you in his arms. Your head rests on his chest, and he puts a hand on your face. 

 You twist in his hold, and you kick at the ground, screaming as the pain continues to lay waste in your body. 

Tobirama’s eyes widen, as he sees blood and tissue coming out from in between your legs. They stream down your thighs, dark and lumpy. 

 “My blood–it’s–! It’s too hot!” You scream again, and Tobirama hefts you into his arms, despite his injury. 

You hear water splash underneath, and Tobirama takes you to the deeper part of the cold stream. He lowers you, and he keeps an arm on you as you seize in his arms. You hold on to his shoulder, and somewhere in your fits, you glimpse at the sky and you curse at it. 

 Why? Why you? 

 You let out one more prolonged scream, and this time, you feel something break away. You tremble, and you settle into Tobirama’s arms. 

“No, no, no,” Tobirama begs you. 

 You let out a breath and collapse into your husband completely, and then, nothing. 

//

Tobirama stares at his wife’s body in his arms, and the panic settling in his chest almost makes him freeze. He notices bruises on your neck that look like a hand. 

“NO!” Tobirama bellows. He checks your pulse. 

 Nothing. Nothing . 

A lump of dread lodges itself in his throat, and he puts a hand on the side of your face. You do not blink or breathe, and there is no movement at all. You are too still. Too lifeless. 

“No, no, do not do this!” Tobirama shouts. “Come back to me!” 

 He hauls you and himself back to dry ground, and despite the pain creaking through his body, he ignores it. He lays you flat on your back, and he begins to pump on your chest, trying to bring you to life. This is not how it is supposed to turn out. You are supposed to live on and even live past him. 

 Tobirama curses, and he pushes on your chest again and again, ignoring the feeling of breaking your ribs from the force. It makes him sick and nauseous. He has spent most of his life killing, and when it counts for him to prolong life, somehow it all turns against him. 

 He screams your name in the empty woods. 

//

It is almost dawn when Tobirama makes it to the hospital. Despite the alarm around him and the chaos as the doctors and nurses there scramble to treat him, he gets his wife on a gurney, and he collapses on the ground beside it. He has managed to get a pulse, but he is not sure how long that will last. She is pale, and she is barely breathing. 

 In a state of shock, Tobirama comes into conclusion that she may be undergoing sepsis and she will need all the attention and the care to make sure she comes out okay. The child inside her is probably dead, and Tobirama tries not to think about that and how he may explain it to her. If she makes it. 

 Everything sounds garbled around him, and he does not care about anything else. He fights anyone who tries to treat him, and instead demands that they take care of his wife first. 

“My brother!” He barks. “Get my brother now!” 

 “Lord Hokage,” one of the medics starts. 

 “Now!” He pushes away someone who tries to assist him into another gurney. “Her first!” 

In a rush, your gurney is wheeled away from him and Tobirama watches in horror as someone begins to pump on your chest again. 

 This is on him, if you do not make it. 

“Tobirama,” he feels his elder brother grab him and assist him to a gurney. 

 Somehow, Tobirama feels a little less mad. His brother’s hold on him is gentle and strong.

 “My wife,” he says in anguish. He does not know what has happened to him, but he sounds like a broken track. He is unable to say anything else. 

 “Okay, okay,” Hashirama reassures. “I will take care of her, rest assured.” 

 Tobirama grasps his brother’s arm. “The fetus will not make it.” 

Hashirama stares at his brother, in shock. He has never seen Tobirama so helpless. He is going into his default coping mechanism: trying to rationalize and distance himself from the event. He does not like the way Tobirama has said fetus, as if he is only stating a matter of fact. However, when he looks into his brother’s eyes, he sees fear in them. 

“I will save her,” Hashirama promises to him. “Now, you have to get treated.”

 “Her first,” Tobirama says in a more withdrawn tone. He has grown ashy pale, and Hashirama makes him lie on the gurney completely. “You have to save her first.”

 “I will,” Hashirama repeats. 

 Tobirama meets his gaze fiercely. “ Her first,” he emphasizes and he pushes his brother back to send him away. 

Hashirama swallows and he hurries after Tobirama’s wife, not wasting another second. 

 Tobirama cannot rest, but he lets himself finally get healed. His unconscious takes over the moment he closes his eyes, like a heavy mountain pressing him to the ground.

//

Tobirama contemplates whether he should go and visit you, now that Hashirama and the medics have finished treating you. He is not much of a fearful person, but he does not really want to see the aftermath of what you went through because it makes it that much real. His skin feels like there is blood plasted on him permanently, and no matter how much he washes his hands, it’s there, coating his hands like tight-skinned gloves. 

 So he does what he does best. He acts. 

He tasks his students, Hiruzen, Homura and Koharu to find whoever did this, and he knows who did this, but he cannot arrest someone unless there is incriminating evidence. He sends his students because if he is the one looking for Kimiko, he will not be merciful about it. Mercies are best left to his wife, and right now, you are indisposed. 

 His mind races about Kumogakure, and how the consequences of the coup may affect the land and his village. If worse comes to worse, there may be war, and he hopes to prevent that. 

“Lord Nidaime?” A gentle, but steady voice interrupts his thoughts. 

 He turns, and he sees Biwako, the girl Hiruzen has been crazy about. 

“Your wife is awake,” Biwako says. “Well, in better words, responsive.”

 Tobirama nods, and he finds himself frowning. He is not ready to see you, nor bring you the news of what has happened. 

 Biwako steps forward, but Tobirama raises a hand and she halts. 

“Lord Nidaime, you may need assistance,” Biwako says. 

 “How is she?” 

 “Stable,” Biwako replies straightforwardly. “However, she can barely speak nor move. She is in a lot of pain. She is under a lot of sedatives, and if she is not, she starts screaming.” 

Tobirama nods. “I will be there shortly. Leave me.”

Biwako bows quickly and she walks out of the room. 

Tobirama stares at his hands, and he hears you scream in his mind, and he can feel your weight on him, as you almost lost your life. He has seen and carried dead bodies before, but that weight feels different. It feels like a punishment. 

 Tobirama knows that he should not be walking around, but there are a lot of things that he should not be doing and here he is. He swings his feet over the bed as slowly as he can to not exert himself, and then he puts his weight on his legs. He almost doubles over, but he catches himself and he grabs at the wall. He puts one foot in front of the other, and somehow, he makes outside the door without toppling over. 

 “Sensei!” 

 Tobirama hears Hiruzen call. He hears his footsteps, and he lets his student support him by the arm. 

“How is she?” Hiruzen asks. 

 “Stable,” Tobirama curtly replies. “What did you find?” 

 “She was still there in the house. She was in your bathroom and there were splashes of water everywhere,” Hiruzen starts. “Homura found traces of a poison and sent it to the investigative division. Then we put her into a holding cell.” 

Tobirama swallows, completely horrified but he masks it as quickly as it appeared. “She tried to drown my wife.” 

 He knows that it is your worst fear to be drowned, having been subjected to it before. 

 “I am sorry, sensei,” Hiruzen utters. “If there is anything I could do…”

 “Saru,” Tobirama interrupts. “Do not say anything more.” 

Hiruzen stares at his sensei, a little puzzled, but he keeps quiet. He keeps his support on his sensei. 

“See if Biwako found traces of poison in my wife and that it matches the one found,” Tobirama takes his arm back from Hiruzen. 

 The two of them stop at the doorway of the room you are put in. The curtains cover you, but he can make out your shape behind it. 

“Yes, sensei,” Hiruzen quietly says and he turns to walk away. 

Tobirama does not know how long he has stood there, but he snaps himself back into reality and he makes his way to you. His heart softens as he finds your face, but it also hurts because you look frail and weak, something that even in your worst state has never been seen. He finally sits himself on the chair next to you, and he takes your hand in his. 

 You flinch and you let out a jumble of words, and your heart beat spikes up. 

“It is me,” Tobirama murmurs to you. “It’s just me.” 

Tobirama runs his thumb over your hand, and he stares at it. At least it is warm now. At least he can feel your pulse, and your blood flowing under your skin. He feels your chakra flowing normally, although very low in levels. 

 “You’re safe,” Tobirama reassures. 

 He finds your face, and tears fall from your eyes. They open, but Tobirama finds that your stare is unfocused. 

 Then you close your eyes again. 

Tobirama keeps still, and finally, he feels your hand squeezing his. 

 At least you are alive.

//

Days pass you by like a blur, and you are still unable to talk. You do a lot of swimming in your mind, and when you are lucid, you cannot help but scream to let it all out. Words mean nothing, and they do not connect with your tongue. You are tired of the quietness in your mind because it is searing, and it is hot and it is where your thoughts run uncontrollably. 

 It is like the silence that has kept you from crying out for help has finally been siphoned off by a great vacuum, and every loud sound that has been suppressed sings and blares like a horn taking the spotlight on stage.

 On most days, you feel bereft of feelings except fear and an uncontained anger that makes all reason go down the drain. Luckily, you are bedridden. 

Tobirama has explained to you what has happened, he has laid down the facts with a passive voice. His face is arranged in such a calm way, he could just be talking about anything. He does not show how he feels about your loss. It does not make sense to you, because you remember being happy about finally building a family with him, and now, it is like someone has pulled out the cord and everything is put to a stop. 

 Honestly, it hurts. 

 You want him to lash out at you, to blame you, but he does none of that. The only thing you can do is be angry and scream at him, but he has no fault in this. You know that he fought for you. 

You have lost something so monumental, and it swallows you whole. 

 Guilt. That is what you mostly feel because it is your job to make sure your own child makes it to this world. 

 It is so hard to accept it. 

“Please stop,” you whisper Tobirama because he still keeps going, as if to rub in salt into your wounds. You know that he is only doing his best to get you through this. He is being there in the way he knows how. 

 Because when things go wrong, he can always depend on his sense of logic and his ability to be able to fix just about anything. 

Tobirama immediately quiets down, and his facade breaks. He reflects the torment that you scream from the top of your lungs. 

 “You died,” he repeats, his voice breaking off. 

 You turn your head away from him. 

 “I had her arrested,” Tobirama continues. 

 “I told you to stop,” you say, your voice croaking. You have not spoken words in days. 

Tobirama falls silent again, and you close your eyes. 

 “Please leave,” you tell him, even if it breaks your heart. 

 “No,” Tobirama says in a steady voice. 

A terrible, long hush settles between the two of you. There really is no instructions to follow on how to go about this. The both of you had lost a lot. Grief is different for each person. 

 Tears start to fall from your eyes, and you wonder how come you do not run out of it. Sometimes you cry even when they do not flow. 

Tobirama’s hand hesitates over the side of your head, but then he takes it back. After a long minute, he comes closer and leans towards the bed to slip his arm under your head. He turns you to him, and you watch him as he wordlessly gathers you into his arms. His touches are tender, and you note that he is trembling. 

 Like a dam that has been staved off for too long, you burst out crying and he leans his head over yours. 

 You have been feeling so far away from your body, as if you are only a spectator, but at this moment, you are finally grounded, like a kite winded back to its owner’s hands. 

Tobirama is as steady as you need him. 

//

Your house is now a different place. Dark and uninviting, it serves to remind you of that night that you almost died. You did die, according to Tobirama, but that short blip into the so-called afterlife did not serve to offer some relief. If anything, it made you feel more alone and more aware that something is missing inside of you. 

 You were going to have a girl. 

 The thought makes you sob, and you do, for the hundredth time today. 

When you get to your room, you suddenly feel uneasy and it is like your brain is reliving the same horror all over again, but your body is safe and whole. It is like you are underwater again, and you are melting, and you can barely stay on your feet. 

 Tobirama guides you towards the bed, but you fight him off, unable to process what is happening to you. Everything is happening too quickly. A different kind of burn settles on your chest and it squeezes the air out of you, and you are unable to take in more air. 

More tears fall from your eyes, and you try to gasp for air. You just want to breathe. Your vision blurs, and Tobirama catches you as you topple over. 

 The two of you go to the floor. You push your husband away, feeling like you are once again, fighting for your life. 

 Tobirama refrains from touching you again, but he keeps himself near, ready to act and prevent you from hurting yourself. 

It gets messier as you start to heave and then vomit on the floor. 

 You feel helpless, and disgusted of yourself. 

You pass out, after you come to, and the last thing you are aware of is Tobirama silently cleaning your vomit up. 

//

 You stop eating, in fear of ingesting something that could possibly poison you. Tobirama has dismissed the servants that work in your house and vows to get new ones, but at the moment, there is only you and him. Even if Tobirama is the one who serves you the food, you do not eat it and while you know that he is getting frustrated that you are not eating, you cannot help but fear the food. 

 You know that Tobirama is holding himself accountable for this, and you want to comfort him but how can you comfort him when you are confined to your own thoughts? 

Tobirama is the Hokage by day, and by night, he becomes your servant as he monitors you hour by hour, and cleans up after whatever mess you make without complaint. 

“Please eat,” Tobirama says quietly. 

He sits on the side of the bed, waiting. 

 “I will not let anything happen to you,” Tobirama says. “Would it help if I eat the food?” 

 You gather your legs to your body and hug them. You peek at him from above your knees. 

“Yes?” Tobirama inquires. 

 “I don’t want to eat,” you say. 

Tobirama sighs, and he rakes a hand through his hair. He stands up, and grabs the bowl that he placed on the bedside table. 

 His jaw tenses, a sign that he is holding off on saying anything that may make this situation worse. “Look, not poison.” 

Tobirama takes a spoonful of the food, and you watch him swallow it. You observe for a long time, even though the food has grown cold. 

 Nothing happens to Tobirama. 

 Grudgingly, you take the bowl from him. 

He goes down on one knee and he looks you into your eyes. “You are safe.”

 You nod, and you glumly eat the food that he prepared. It tastes bland. 

//

For days, you have not bathed as you do not want to go to the bathroom, and sometimes, you even end up rocking back and forth on the floor next to the door of the bathroom. You also hold off on emptying your bladder, resulting in you soiling your clothes and the floor. It makes you feel worse and descend into a spiral of intrusive thoughts, but you will yourself to get it together enough to clean after yourself as best as you can. For now, you opt using the garden hose outside or the faucet in the kitchen. 

 You also stopped going out into the streets, afraid that some threat is bound to be acted upon you. Not until Kimiko is apprehended permanently, you cannot bear to take a step outside. 

Sometimes you are tempted to do the job yourself. No one can really get in your way, except for your husband. 

 For days, you contemplate on this. 

 Maybe it will be easier on you. To erase the source of your trauma. Maybe you will not have to fear every shadow you encounter, including your own. 

 You and Kimiko are now even. The both of you had lost your child. 

Tobirama keeps the details of Kimiko’s arrest secret from you, probably thinking that it is for the best. 

 And it is, because you are not sure what you are capable of doing at the moment. 

//

Tobirama hates it when you are sleeping on your back or your stomach, because even if he knows better, his mind plays tricks on him and he is there in the middle of the woods all over again, holding your body as your life leaves you. So whenever he finds you like that, he turns you to your side and when he can bear to, holds you into his arms so that he knows that you are breathing, and that you have a heartbeat. 

 It hurts him to see you like this. You have always stayed strong. He has always taken your strength for granted. 

 Now that you are reduced to tears and fits, and bursts of unprecedented anger he thought that you were not capable of, it shakes him to the core. 

It reminds him that he has failed you, both as your husband and Hokage. 

 In your sleep, you have nightmares and Tobirama cannot wake you up from them at times. The best he can do is be there, but even that is not an option at times. 

 He grieves in his own way too.

How does one handle a possibility that was so tangible and close to happening, but it is torn away before it has even begun? 

 How does one receive life, only to have it taken from you in such a short time? 

Questions swirl his mind and it keeps him awake. It drives him to throw himself into his work and he forgets about sleep. 

 If he can donate sleep then he will give it to you, as long as it means a peaceful night for you. 

 He ignores that his senses are frayed, but at times, there is only much touching he can handle because he keeps remembering being surrounded by death as he came to, and being greeted by death as he holds you. 

Why is this his destiny? As if he is meant to be surrounded by life, but to only be able to work with death. He pours hours into avoiding it, but the truth is, death is a fact, not a question that he can solve in a few steps. 

 How he wills it so, but that is a wall that he will keep knocking on as long as he lives. 

//

Even in your sadness, there is routine, all thanks to Tobirama and his ability to compartmentalize and boil it down in a way that he can understand. He is stellar at this, but you know that it is not the case. The more he seeks perfection, the more he is in a deeper hole than he lets on. It is scary to watch him spiral, because no one ever notices until it is too late and he has suddenly come up with a new jutsu and making everyone around him make a run for their money. He never asks for help, and when help is given to him, he refuses profusely and even makes it seem like it is your fault for making things worse. 

 On your better days, at least he lets you help by passing you the more menial side of his job. You do the bulk of them in your room, as you get distressed the moment you step out, but you get it done. You are occupied. 

 On some days, he hounds on you more to the point he has brought you to tears, or there are some days that he is withdrawn and you cannot get anything from him but he manages to claw his way out of whatever corner he is and be there for you. 

He seems keen on trying to be there, unwilling to leave you alone for a long time. His eyes are always on your every movement and you feel this pressure to suddenly be alright, though you fail at times when you get hit with intrusive thoughts and they take over your senses. He has done his best to remove the sources of your anxieties, though the bathroom cannot be physically removed. He did cover up the bathtub, and instead, brings a huge bucket you can use to wash yourself when you are able to. 

 He has replaced the servants, and they work behind the scenes and quietly so that they do not alarm you. 

 You have not talked with him properly, and you desperately want to, but there always seems to be tension between the two of you when it is not about just getting through the day. 

 You miss him, even if he is here for you more than he was when he became the Hokage. 

 You are sure that he does too, and you can glimpse it from his eyes, from the way they look so hurt whenever he addresses you. 

//

You learn of Kimiko being transferred into an underground cell that will keep her isolated from the rest of the village from the whispers of the servants. At first, you are not really sure what to make of it, you feel nothing towards it. Then, the anger comes. It washes over you, from your head, through your veins and out that when you come to, you are suddenly holding your sword that you now keep under the bed. 

 You brandish it out, and you stare at your decimated self on your blade. It feels like you are looking at a whole other person. 

 It is reckless. 

But at that moment you do not care. 

 Having a purpose brings back a breath of life in you, and you feel something blossoming inside your chest. You feel vindicated, and you draw strength from this. 

 Your hands shake, and your thoughts start to jumble and it is unable to pinpoint anything else because it zones into your new goal. If you can accomplish it then all these bad feelings will go away. 

 The thought repeats in your mind, over and over again. Obsessively. 

 They are talons, taking you by hostage and the next thing you know, you are running outside, jittery as you take to the rooftops, and scanning the ground to see if you can track them on the move. Everything is moving so fast, every movement becomes blurry to you. 

 The feeling is unbearable, but your feet get you there. The underground prison is hidden near the Hokage mountain, and it is also near Tobirama’s lab, which conveniently connects him underground to the Hokage office. 

 Tobirama is there, stoic shoulders and a hard expression on his face that will not betray him, even in under extreme duress. He senses you, because he always does and he turns to your direction. 

 You draw your sword, alarming the ANBU guards surrounding Tobirama. 

“What are you doing here?!” Tobirama barks in the voice that he uses as the Hokage. 

 You stride over, and you spot Kimiko behind the ANBU, in chains. 

Tobirama steps in front of you to block you from her. 

“Move,” you say, voice shaky and hoarse. 

 Tobirama steps closer to you, and he narrows his eyes fiercely. “Stop this.” 

Kimiko starts to laugh, and that snaps the last shred of your reason. 

 You wind your arm back, and you throw your blade hard towards Kimiko. It heads straight for her in a blink of an eye. 

 “No!” Tobirama bellows. 

An ANBU guard steps in the way, and your blade pierces through their left shoulder. It would have gone straight towards Kimiko’s heart, but the guard is taller and was caught by the torso, and in between their lower ribs.. 

 Blood sprays and the sight makes you pale. 

Your trembling hand comes up to cover your mouth in shock. 

 “Oh no,” you whisper. 

You just hurt someone by accident. 

 Tobirama scans the situation closely, and when he sees you step towards the guard that you injured, he grasps you by the shoulders and turns you around. 

 “Go,” he commands. “Go home.” 

 You look towards your husband in panic. “I...I didn’t–”

 “I said go home!” Tobirama snaps in a voice you have never heard him use for you. He uses his body to block the sight and he stares at you with a hard expression. 

Hot tears threaten to spill, but you turn your head away so that Tobirama does not see. You know what you did, but it is still hard to comprehend what you actually did. It feels like another person has hijacked your mind and made you do this, but you see with your eyes what your own hands have done. 

In a daze, you walk away, and you wander around the village, disoriented and feeling very numb and cold inside. 

//

Tobirama comes home late, expecting to find you there, but the house is dark. A cold feeling washes over him. This day has been very long and disturbing, and all he wants is to talk it out with you, even if it ends with a fight. He just wants you, but you are nowhere to be found. 

 Tobirama storms out of his house and into the Senju compound. He circles it, and he infuses his chakra at the same time to find you, but you are not here. You are heading towards the edge of the village, towards the forests and the training grounds. 

 He rushes to your direction without any thought or hesitation. 

He finds you staring towards the dark forest, a hand on a tree bark. 

 From this distance, you look like a ghost. 

 Tobirama cannot come closer. It is like there is a force field preventing him from walking towards you. His throat thickens with emotion, but he stays there, just to make sure you are alright. 

 “Are they...going to be all right?” You ask in a flat tone. 

 “Yes,” Tobirama replies honestly. “Though you missed their heart by a few centimeters.” 

You close your eyes, and press your hand against your forehead. “I never…”

 “Yes, you did. You had every intention of killing Kimiko,” Tobirama outrightly says. 

“Do not put words in my mouth,” you tell him. 

 “That is what I inferred from earlier,” Tobirama says, and you hear him step closer. “You were different. That was not you, and you need to manage your emotions or this will worsen. Almost killing someone by accident will just be the first one.” 

You turn towards Tobirama. “Isn’t that too easy for you to say?” 

 Tobirama is unexpectedly calm, but you can see from the moonlight’s wan silver shine on his face that he is hurt. “No, but it is the truth.” 

You press your lips together. You want to fight. You want to yell, and yet Tobirama, of all days he has chosen to not provoke you, is making it hard. You wish that the two of you can just scream this out, but it is difficult when Tobirama surprises you with a more empathic approach. 

“We both faced loss,” Tobirama tells you in an even voice. “But this is not the way to act.” 

 “I cannot act how you want me to.” 

 “Of course not.” Tobirama holds out his hand to you, his palm facing the night sky. “But you must allow me to act as your husband.” 

You stare at him, a little bewildered. Your heart swells, and finally, you let all the emotions that you have been keeping locked flow through your heart. 

 It hurts. It hurts so much. 

Instead of the numb feeling that fills you with emptiness, you feel every pinprick of your pain, your confusion, your loss. You let that night run over your whole body, but instead of turning it to anger, you feel something else. 

 A strength that you know you have always owned. 

 Acceptance. The ability to put one foot in front of the other. To try again.

  And the most important thing, forgiving yourself. 

Tobirama waits, his hand still outstretched. 

You look up to him, and you notice how beautiful he still is, even underneath all that anguish. You come to him, and you place your hand on top of his, and you hold on to him. 

 Like he wants you to. 

Tobirama lets out a sigh, and he pulls you closer to him. 

You let him, because you know you need him. You rest your head on his shoulder. 

“How do we do this?” You whisper. 

 Tobirama stares into the night, letting his mind carry him far away for a moment. There are not many instances where he feels helpless and so unknowable, but that is the limit of being human. 

 “I do not know,” he replies with candor. 

He puts a hand behind your neck, and he presses you closer to him, despite his body aching and crying to just let go of everything and to push you away. “But you have all the time you need to take. We do not have to do anything.” 

 “Okay,” you close your eyes as you feel his voice vibrate inside his chest. 

Tobirama glances down at his wife. You both share this sadness together, but you now have each other. Neither of you have to be alone. 

“Okay,” Tobirama reaffirms, and he lets out a sigh of relief when you slowly wind your arms around him to hold on to him. 

To be continued...

Chapter 10: Epilgoue - The World As He Fixed It >> 

[cherishedkids]

luck || tokito muichiro x reader

anime: kimetsu no yaiba  warning/s: angst, sad, spoilers from the manga, mentions of death and bloodshed words: 3,973 pairing/s: tokito muichiro x reader request: “ (⚠️ manga spoilers you can just delete it if you havent read the manga) hi can i request angst with fluff ending? muichiro's pillar!childhood friend but he doesnt remember her tries to talk to him then he gets mad at her for being annoying and she runs away. then she encounters kokushibo (upper moon one) the same time the village got attacked and muichiro gets back his memories but when he tries to find her she is very injured in the butterfly estate then she wakes up then fluff~” from anon!

A/N: thank you so much to the anon who requested this!! i have to admit, it was a bit hard for me, but i like challenges! i do hope it lived up to your expectations!! enjoy reading!

Luck was what you normally relied on. All the achievements you have accomplished and all the obstacles you have conquered--you could attribute to luck. From what you could see, you relied too much on it, harboring no skill whatsoever. Your flame breath wasn’t anything special, and there was still a long way to go before you could see yourself mastering it.

This was especially true when you actually lived through the Final Selection. You heard from others that some people never got out of there alive. But you had to endure, as it was one of the hurdles to becoming a demon slayer. And if you did not become one, you would not be able to achieve your dream of being able to protect others from these evil creatures, nor would you be able to honor the memory of your childhood friends. So, for seven grueling days, you had to fight and survive the demons that inhabited the mountain.

As you stared out the rising sun, the smell of wisteria filled your nose. At the break of dawn, you became a low-ranked demon slayer. But that was enough to bring a smile to your face.

You could only get so far with luck, however. There were only a small number of people who could use the flame breath, as according to your old master, it was hard to master it. The flame breath was a dying one, with only a dwindling amount of families being able to use it. Even you had difficulties with the forms themselves, as your joints creaked painfully after every battle.

But even so, you did your duties as a member of the Demon Slayer Corps. What else was there to do? For two years and a half, you strived and little by little, you improved your own breath. It came to a point that a crow delivered a very important letter to you. You only knew it was important because it kept repeating and yelling the words, ‘urgent, urgent!’. It was from Ubuyashiki Kagaya, inviting you to his abode. The famed Ubuyashiki?

You set forth to journey to him, with guides carrying you there. It was a secret place, so you were blindfolded the whole time.

The moment you set eyes on his gentle eyes, you knew you could trust him. He sat alone on the tatami covered floor, the light of the moonlight serving as an indirect light. A lantern was light beside him and you could see the scar that spread across his face.

“___, it’s a pleasure to meet one of my children, face to face,” A smile was on his face. “I am not able to see you, of course, but you understand,”

“Of course, Oyakata-sama,”

“You might be wondering why you had to go through great lengths to visit me, and actually, I have a request to ask you,”

“What is it, sir?”

“I’m sure you have heard of the passing of the former Flame pillar, Rengoku Kyojuro,”

His death sent shock to the entire community. Of course you have heard of it. It was a pity that a fellow flame user had died, but along with his death, he was able to bring two other demons with him--one low-ranked and one high-ranked one.

“...I have, yes,”

He was not able to see you, yes, but the change in the atmosphere was enough to alert him. “I am asking you to take over his position as the Flame Pillar,”

“But I’m too young--”

“I have been keeping watch over you; your ability is on par with the other hashiras, and you have killed over fifty demons so far.” His tone was still gentle, careful not to rock the boat. “Please understand--your very presence may boost the morale of the other demon slayers,”

You close your eyes. How was this happening? Ubuyashiki might not know that you had just used your luck as a crutch. You did not want to disappoint him. 

“I’m sorry, Oyakata-sama, I believe that I won’t be able to meet your expectations. I have no real ability in swordsmanship and my breath is not powerful. I truly hope I did not waste your time,”

“Nonsense,” His face had turned into a worried one now. “You look down on yourself too much, ___. Meet with the other hashiras, and you might change your mind,”

Sighing, you agreed to this compromise. He had a spare room for you to sleep in. It wasn’t a surprise, as his house was huge. The next morning, you woke up to change into your uniform. Ubuyashiki told you that the hashiras would arrive before lunch, so you waited for them. Ubuyashiki Amane and her children kept you company as you nervously imagined how the meeting would go.

When you heard people muttering outside, you peeked and saw a group of people. You had never seen the other hashiras before, so it was eye opening. Quietly, you came out of the room excusing yourself from Amane and the children.

Their attention turned to you. The same way you had never seen them before, they also were not familiar with you. Ubuyashiki was still sitting on the floor, attending to them. “___, please come closer,”

He requested, and so you did. 

As your eyes skimmed over the handful of people powerful enough to be part of the Pillars, one boy caught your eye. A very familiar face. One that you thought had died so long ago.

“Muichiro?” You wondered out loud, and his eyes locked with yours. But he did not show any sign of recognition. His eyes remained cloudy and uninterested. Even so, he still had his beautiful blue eyes. Ones that used to shine brightly in the moonlight, ones that used to hold great concern for you.

Ubuyashiki did not seem to hear it or, even if he did, did not deem it important. “I have been thinking of recruiting ____ ___ as the next successor--in place of the fallen Flame Pillar,”

They seemed to have mixed reactions. There were those who nodded, and some who seemed disgruntled by this suggestion. But you kept your eyes on Muichiro. He had changed--his eyes had turned lifeless. Was it because of the hard work that was required in becoming a demon slayer? Had he killed enough demons that he had changed? You hoped not.

A white haired man with scary eyes stepped up. “As much as I respect you, Oyakata-sama, I have to wonder. Why a kid again?”

He was right, but you didn’t care. Tokito Muichiro was before you. One of your childhood friends that you thought had perished under a demon. Why was he here? 

“Her combat skills are worthy of becoming a hashira, Sanemi,” He briefly explained.

“I think it’s great that another girl will join us!” A woman with pink and green hair exclaimed. “It’s been so hard when all my peers are men,”

“Technically, she is not yet a hashira, as she tells me she is too young and inexperienced to become one,” Ubuyashiki explains, and you turn red. Did he really have to mention that part? 

A woman with a butterfly hairpin comes forward and places a hand on your shoulder. Her expression is unreadable, as she hides it behind an empty smile. “I think you should trust in Oyakata-sama. It’s an honor to directly serve under him, ___,”

“I still want to leave the decision to her, Shinobu,” He interjects, not wanting any conflict to arise. 

But the moment you saw Muichiro, you had already made up your mind. If anything, curiosity fueled you, and you just wanted to know what had happened to him. Just seeing his face was enough to convince you. They all wait for your decision. If you accepted, they would be leaving his house with a new colleague. Sure, luck was always present for you, but when it came to decisions, you had to rely on yourselves. This was a leap, and you’d hate yourself if you made the wrong choice.

You face Ubuyashiki and bow lowly, placing your head on the hard tatami floor.

“I accept your request, Oyakata-sama. I’ll do my best to live up to your standards.”

After your inaguaration and announcement that you were to be the next Flame Pillar, you rush to Muichiro. It had been years since you had last seen him, and he just disappeared without a trace! As he was about to leave, you tap him on his shoulder.

“Muichiro! Long time no see!” You say, a smile on your face. Even so, his expression did not change.

His response completely subverted your expectations. Honestly, what did you think would happen?

“Do I know you?”

The same cold eyes that his twin brother had, stared back at you. But you were sure you were still talking to Muichiro. You had seen Yuichiro’s body in their small house when you were visiting them, not his.

“Don’t you remember?” There was slight shame present in your tone, but you were determined for him to recognize you. Maybe it was just that the years changed you so much that he couldn’t remember you anymore. “I used to visit you and your brother! We even used to play in the flowers near your house!”

You explain, but the look in his eyes never changed and his lips stayed in a straight line. “I don’t remember meeting anyone like you.”

But you did not waver. Almost three years--and he’d just forget about you? “But we used to be so close--we’d even hide from Yuichiro--”

You could not finish your sentence as he cut you off.

“Just because you became a hashira does not mean you can pretend to know me,” There was a sound of distaste in his voice. “I, particularly, do not care about the others. But if you play with my memories again, I assure you, you will create an enemy out of me,”

There was only silence as he stared you down. Almost the same age, but you could tell he was much more powerful than you. He was even confident enough to doubt your abilities as a hashira.

“What happened to you?”

He looked at you in distaste. “What do you mean by that?”

“You used to be so sweet and gentle, you’d even try to braid my hair!” Recounting the memories brought back happiness and sadness for you. “But you changed. You’re no longer warm, you’re just… indifferent,”

If he was the same Muichiro, he would have cried at your comments and apologized. But it was clear that he was not the same. “What about it?”

Every word he said struck a blow to your already weakening heart. There was no way he’d forget the time you comforted him because of the death of his parents. There was no way he’d forget about the time you helped him get wood and taught him how to cook rice. There was no way he’d forget about the promise you made to each other--that you’d protect and be together always.

You grabbed the sleeves of his black uniform. Hands shaking at the thought that such a dear friend would just lose all memories of you so abruptly. 

“Come on, Muichiro, stop joking around--it’s not funny anymore!” That’s right, he had never been the funny type. This sick joke he was playing had already run long enough. It was time to give it up. “You’re the only one left from my past… I just… I can’t lose you again,”

Slight concern showed up in his expression, but he immediately changed it to one of anger and offense.

“If you really cared about me, you’d stop babbling about this nonsense and go do your job as a hashira,” He moved his arms away and turned away from you. “I have better things to do than deal with your lies,”

At this point, you had dealt with so much hardships, trying not to die everyday. This is what you get from the universe? A childhood friend that won’t even try to remember you? You gritted your teeth and curled your hands into fists. If that was what he wanted, then that was what he got.

“Fine, Tokito.” You said, warmth that you willingly gave him, lost now. “I’ll go and do my job as a hashira,”

With that, you left. 

Muichiro cursed himself as he watched your figure fade away into the distance.

Those desperate and pleading eyes were familiar to him. He had seen them in a dream once. It was only a dream, he tried to reason with himself. But he could not ignore the guilt that gnawed at him inside.

He could not dwell on it for long, as he still had his own worries. He headed in the opposite direction, quick to find a guide to take him to the swordsmith village.

-

You wandered in the woods for the longest time. It was the only way you could calm yourself down. You were not sure yourself just how long you had been walking. Had it been days? Or had it been mere hours? All you knew was the anger that built up inside you.

The crow that had been assigned to you sat on your shoulder, berating you to go do your mission. But you were too tired and unfeeling to do anything. Was this how Muichiro felt? Empty and hollow. Even if you did ask him, you doubt he’d ever face you again after that encounter.

Perhaps it was foolish of you. After all, you were only invited there because Ubuyashiki wanted you to become a hashira. You were not there to re-spark friendships that had faded over the years. After all, what was the reason you even became a demon slayer in the first place? 

Right. It all came back to him. To honor his brother and his memory. But even he did not seem to acknowledge it.

You sigh. Were you ever going to have a break?

It seemed not, as you heard rustling behind you. Maybe a normal Mizunoto-ranked slayer would not hear that, but after two years of fighting against demons, you had known their techniques.

You turned behind you and saw a man in a kimono. Was he a samurai? He held a sword in his hands and he was about to sheath it. You could not see his face, as the moon provided little light. Once you saw that he was not a demon, you relaxed.

“Don’t worry, sir, I am not a demon,” You show your sword to him. “You can let go of your own sword,”

“That’s too bad,” As he stepped forward, you could feel your stomach drop. “Because I am one.”

Three sets of eyes showed itself to you. The middle part, you could see that it spelled out ‘Upper Moon One’. There were red markings on his face and neck, and you almost felt your life flash before you.

You take out your own sword and hold it up against him. “What are you doing here?!”

You ask, desperate to stall him and to find a way out of this. It was clear that luck was not on your side today. Your own childhood friend dismissed you, and now? One of the most powerful demons had popped out of nowhere! Talk about misfortune!

“I could ask the same thing to you,” He said, as he slowly took his own sword out. “But let me humor you--I was simply practicing my breaths,”

Breaths? There was a demon who knew how to use them?

Before he could make a stance, you rushed to cut him up. You had to strike him and keep the element of surprise. A bright light came from your sword as you sliced the arm that held the hilt of his sword, flames following the cold metal. Then, you jump backwards, waiting to see what would happen. Your eyes widened as his arm was still intact. 

“A flame breath user?” He chuckled slowly, a feat that you could not enjoy. “I see his own technique worsened over the generations,”

Then, he took a stance, and in a flash, he was in front of you. “I guess I can give you a bit of credit, as you are still young,”

You try to dodge him, but his own breath disoriented you. Inconsistent crescent moons came from his sword and some had cut against the uniform you wore. You grunt as you feel wounds open up from his attack. But you had no time to rest, as you quickly used his closeness to attack. Flames came out of your sword again, and you target his hand again. It comes off clean, but you see that he regenerates again.

“My brother’s sun breath burned worse than that.” He remarks, and you knew that you were never going to defeat alone.

Turning away from him you hurry and run through the woods. You did not care if what you were doing was cowardly. The difference in strength was crystal clear.

“Running away? And you call yourself a swordsman?”

It was all you could do. Your luck had finally run out, and you knew that you’d die if even for a second, you faltered. Not when you still had a hundred more things to accomplish!

You breathe in and out, navigating the dark forest. You needed to live. If you could just see Muichiro one last time, you’d forgive him.

-

Muichiro wakes up in the Butterfly estate. He doesn’t really know why he’s here, nor how he got here, all he remembers is the masked faces of the swordsmiths he protected in the village. 

Right… the village! He gets up, but he feels pain everywhere in his body. That was a huge mistake, so he lies back down again, and slowly raises himself up, grunting at the pain. In the same room, he sees other beds that are occupied by familiar faces. Kanroji Misturi, Kamado Tanjiro, and a few injured swordsmiths caught in the action. 

But someone else that he hadn’t seen that day is also there. She’s covered in numerous bandages, and a worker is sitting near her, looking over her. He can tell that she’s in critical condition. The worker near her hears him groaning and he rushes over to him.

“Tokito-dono, it’d be wise to lay down--your wounds aren’t fully healed yet!”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s fine, I’ve gone through worse,”

Muichiro’s eyes can’t stop being drawn to the figure on the bed. “Say, can I ask who that person is?”

The worker follows where Muichiro is pointing, and sighs out of concern. “That’s the new Flame Pillar, _____-dono,”

You? He can’t hide his shock. Before he lost consciousness, he saw all the memories you claimed to have with him. Each and everyone of them he relived, and he could feel embarrassment and regret building up inside of him. He suddenly gets up from his bed and in the blink of an eye, he’s by your side.

The wounds that he had, he ignored. There was nothing else more important at the moment!

“What happened to her?” He asks in a frantic tone. The worker is a second too late, and Muichiro asks again, with more venom in his voice. “What happened?”

The worker stammers, but the words finally come out of his mouth. “She encountered the Upper Moon demon alone in the woods… and well, she’d been in recovery for almost a week now,”

A week… So while he was journeying to the swordsmith village, you were fighting for your life? He felt like an idiot. The last time you spoke, he talked down on you. He looked at your pained expression, and he could tell that you were in immense pain right now. 

“Tell me everything--how was she found?” 

He had to know.

“Her crow escaped as she was battling the demon and told near demon slayers near her. Thankfully, Himejima-dono was praying in a temple nearby and was able to save her,” The worker’s voice trembled. He was afraid that Muichiro’s anger would turn towards him. “When she got here, she had numerous slashes and her heart stopped for a minute...”

Muichiro looks at the worker in alarm. But he already had a response to this. “Don’t worry! Thanks to Kocho-dono, she survived that. Now, it’s all up to her if she’s able to wake up,”

“I see…”

Shakily, Muichiro reaches for your hand. There’s a slight hesitation in him, but he whispers, so only you can hear it.

“I’m sorry.”

He can’t believe that he could not remember who you were! The one who was always there to protect him from his brother, the one who was able to make him smile during hard times, and the one who he promised eternity with. 

He was not entirely sure if you were going to survive this. If you had encountered the demon that was second to Kibutsuji Muzan in terms of power, he could only pray to the gods that you’d be able to pull through.

The worker excuses himself. He sees the intimate moment happening in front of him, and he respects the both of you.

“I swear I’ll never let you go again. Just please…” Muichiro feels tears well up in his eyes. He is not able to stop them. His voice cracks multiple times and he grips your hand tightly. “Please wake up, ___…”

Your hand twitches in his, and he feels his heart skip a beat.

“You’ve always been a crybaby,” You croak out. Your head is throbbing, and your throat is dry. “I guess not everything about you has changed,”

He rushes to get a glass of water and hands it to you. Then, he makes sure that you are able to sit properly. Wiping his tears away, he looks at you. “I was so scared,”

“You clearly haven’t met the Upper Moon demon, then,” You muse, and Muichiro is not able to complain as he is just so happy that you are actually sitting and talking to him again!

“I regained my memories a few days ago…” He confesses, and he turns his gaze to the ground. “I apologize… for what I said to you. I didn’t mean it. In fact…”

He trails off, and his cheeks take on a light color of pink. “You’re the best thing I have in life right now,”

You also blush from his comment, but you had to ask him. “Why did you just suddenly disappear all those years ago? Why was Yuichiro dead?”

He tells you the story of how a demon had attacked the both of them, and how his memories disappeared from him after. “I forgot about everything after that… I’m sorry that I left without a word,”

“I… I understand,” Muichiro thinks that you’ll tell him to get out of your face. He expects that you’re disappointed in him for thinking that you’d forgive him so easily after he insulted you, until you speak up.  “Before I actually lost consciousness, my last thoughts were forgiving you. lt’s in the past, isn’t it?”

It might have been the crazy amount of medicine that you were on at the moment, but you turned bold. You gestured for him to come closer, and you kissed his cheek. “All that matters right now is the present, Muichiro,”

He smiles at this and kisses your hand multiple times. “Then I’m ready to fulfill my promise of staying with you forever,”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You felt warmth spread throughout your body. You both will be alright, as long as you have each other to depend on. All the obstacles and hardships you encountered at the start seemed worth it, if you found Muichiro in the end. 

Luck really did end up being on your side.