#leave my sentry alone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miniimight · 1 year ago

Note

first off, I just wanna say how I love how you write izuku like??? my sweet boy doesn't get much appreciation and I'm just obsessed with the scenarios you've made with him 🤭💜 second, would it be okay to request a scenario in which the bnha boys (Deku, Bakugo, any other if you want!) who's been dating the reader for a while but it's a secret relationship- which suddenly gets revealed?

thank you! can't wait for more of your writing! 💜

SECRET RELATIONSHIP GETS REVEALED ! the secret relationship between you and your pro-hero boyfriend gets revealed to the public

with deku, bakugo ( pro heroes )

notes ahaha izuku is definitely one of my favs and ur so right when u say he doesn't get enough appreciation :( but i'm here to change that lol ! thanks for requesting ! idk if this is what you had in mind but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless <3

your boyfriend didn't want his relationship with you to go live because one, he's legitimately one of the most hated heroes by villains and two, the media won't ever leave you alone. he found it better this way, for both of your sakes.

it worked for a while, and though the both of you had to make little sacrifices here and there, the arrangement was more than perfect. that was until someone tipped the media off with one (1) very rare photo of you and boyfie out and about in disguise (a terrible one, at that).

photos of the pro-hero's new companion dominated the internet and everyone was wondering who the mystery person was.

it happened so fast that you and your boyfriend were out of the loop. in fact, you and your boyfriend were out on a secret date when the news exploded.

IZUKU

izuku zipped his crossbody bag up and fitted a black baseball cap tightly on his head. his green curls were hard to miss regardless of any disguise he thought up. he flashed you a determined smile. "ready for our day out, love?"

"born ready," you mimicked his way-too-serious tone. "but won't you relax a bit?"

at your comment, his shoulders stiffened. "why, do i not look relaxed?"

he was standing like his friend, iida—almost robotically, like a sentry who was on high alert. you could see the tired circles under his eyes though the shadow of the cap made them almost invisible. his casual outfit covered one of the essential pieces of hero gear; his gloves. it was almost as if he was expecting something bad to happen.

you drifted to his side, an amused smile on your face. "we've done this before, izu. nobody will notice!"

"at least i have a better chance," he raised an eyebrow at you, spinning you around in his arms. "your disguise is non-existent."

"hey, i'm not the super-famous pro-hero that everyone adores." you stuck your tongue at him, making him smile reflexively.

"it's not my fault i'm so charming."

"oh my god."

a little more bickering and a car ride later, you both arrived at the museum you had planned to tour. the guide handed you pamphlets after welcoming you to the grounds, informing you that she'd take you around the exhibits in a short moment.

"oooh..." you flipped through the brochure, excitement bubbling through you. "there's a lot of things in here."

izuku rested his chin on your shoulder, trying to read as fast as you were flipping pages. his hand enveloped yours in an effort to stop you from turning the pages at a lightning pace— "honey, can you go slower?"

you giggled and thumbed the whole pamphlet, making a little buzzz sound as you did so. "weren't you at the top of your class, izu?" you shrugged nonchalantly. "just read faster."

his hands snaked to clasp around your stomach from where they rested on your waist. an uncontrollable laugh threatened to bubble out of you. "really, 'just read faster'? a little cheeky today, aren't you, love—?"

"uhm... couple at the back, please refrain from pda as there are children around." the tour guide cleared her throat. a crowd had gathered for the next tour around the museum and it appeared as though they were ready to start.

you and izuku jumped away from each other as if you were caught by a teacher in high school, your cheeks heating up from embarrassment.

"sorry, miss." izuku mumbled in a low voice, head hanging. he gave you an amused smile that you returned with a huge grin, accepting the hand he held out for you.

halfway into the tour, the group grew so bored they retreated to the comfort of their phones. hanging around the back, you thought it unusual that so many people began to glance backwards at you and your boyfriend, whispering among themselves.

you caught glimpses of their phone screens, questioning why the hell your face was on them.

you nudged izuku's side to tell him just as the teens in front of you spun around, screaming "it's deku and his s/o!"

you and izuku froze like deers in headlights as the commotion spread through the group.

wait, how do you know? the news just made a story about it today. there's a picture of them here! and besides, he's wearing the same disguise.

you gave izuku a pointed look and he smiled sheepishly at you. "what the heck should we do?!"

"deny it??" he said, though he didn't seem sure of his answer. "that photo?" he talked to the crowd again. "not her."

"yeah, i get it all the time," you chuckle nervously, playing along. you shrunk into his side. the attention was sending shockwaves through your body.

the kids weren't buying it. "well, you're obviously deku." one deadpanned.

"me?" a boxy grin spread on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "no, i'm just... not him..."

seriously, didn't they have specific media training classes at UA for this kinda thing? you rolled your eyes at his response.

"who else has green hair?!" another crossed their arms. "you're so deku."

you both held up your hands, as if caught red-handed by the police. you squeaked, "we're just two random, normal strangers having a date in a museum, promise—"

a kid waddled up to deku's side and pulled his signature gloves out of his pants' pockets, holding them up triumphantly. yours and deku's head slowly turned to watch it unfold before looking at each other almost comically. a long pause followed.

"it's deku and his s/o!" the kid yelled, pointing a chubby finger at the two of you. the whole vicinity was alerted to the famous hero's presence.

you clung to izuku's arms and the swarm encroached on your space, clamoring for autographs, information, pictures—anything they could get their hands on.

to your surprise, deku wasn't the only center of attention. you were asked your name, age, and occupation, where you grew up, if you knew 'their' deku in high school—

izuku's upper arm came under your bum as he leapt back from the crowd at lightning speed, yelling a very apologetic sorry! as he zoomed the both of you away to safety. you screamed as you hung over his shoulder.

he parkoured his way up the museum building, crouching on the roof. it wasn't the first time izuku used his super speed with you in his arms, but holding you like a sack of potatoes wasn't the best position—not if you liked your neck.

he set you down and smoothed your clothes, his hands flying everywhere accompanied by a thousand apologies.

your hands caught his wrist and you gave him a pointed look. "how did they find out? we were super careful."

his concerned expression quickly turned unimpressed. "sweetheart, you have no disguise."

"they believed i was just some random person after we denied it. they already knew you were deku!" you retorted, flicking his cap upwards and allowing the tufts of green to spring out.

he opened his mouth to respond before he snapped it shut. "it's not my fault i'm hard to miss..." he muttered.

you softened and moved closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning into his chest. "i'm sorry, jus' a little on edge."

his hands rubbed your back soothingly before he hugged you back. "it'll be okay." he felt something cold against him and he looked down to see you pull out your phone, pressing it against his body as you got to the bottom of this. "hey—"

"it's all over the news, along with katsuki and his s/o." you hummed, scrolling through article after article.

"hey." he repeated firmly. he gently tugged the phone from your hands, slipping it in his pocket. "it'll be okay. i'll make sure you're protected, not that you aren't already, and we'll get you a new apartment, closer to mine."

you sighed. "i'm not really worried about that."

he gave you a concerned look, wondering if he needed to look into your lack of self-preservation. "...you're not worried about someone potentially attacking you?"

you rolled your eyes, lightly swatting his chest. "well, duh, but i know no one can really get past you and your brigade of hero friends." you waved off his concern. "i'm worried about the paparazzi and gossip channels—what if everyone decides i'm not good enough and they pressure you to leave me? what if—"

"i'm going to have to stop you right there," he gave one of those self-proclaimed (but also, he wasn't wrong) 'charming' smiles as he cut into your rambling. "being with you is my conviction. no one's gonna pressure me to do anything except marry you one day."

you blinked, a huge grin spreading on your face. all your worries were gone when you let his words sink in.

izuku realized what he really said. "or... something like that, you know?" he muttered under his breath, color rising to his cheeks as he looked away.

a moment passed as he held you on the museum rooftop, the date turning out much different than expected. he gasped out of nowhere, jostling you out of your thoughts. his little giggle made you suspicious.

"kacchan just texted me something really interesting; he got stuck in traffic and is trying to hide out in his car—oh."

"what?"

he turned his phone to you. it was a post titled 'NEW!" and underneath was a very blurry photo of you and izuku on the rooftop at that very moment.

you scrunched up your face. "your fans are weird."

he laughed openly. you stared at him with such adoration that you hoped the press got a picture of his blissful face so you could fawn over it later. "have you even read the things they're saying about you?" he kissed your forehead. "i have a feeling they're gonna grow to obsess over you more than me."

BAKUGO

you heard the impatient jangle of keys as bakugo called after you. "we're gonna be late for our res, baby, get your beautiful ass in the car."

you giggled as you stuffed the last of the stuff you needed in your bag. you exaggerated a gasp and wagged a finger at him. "take me on a date first, mister."

he rolled his eyes. "i am literally trying to do that right now, but someone ain't listenin."

"fine, damn, i'll go on a date with you." you huffed, keeping up with the bit as you walked past him, tossing him a playful look over your shoulder. he smiled softly, following closely.

you got in the car and watched him with starry eyes. he was focused on starting the car and setting the music, but all you could think of was how good he looked in a turtleneck. he had so much faith in that face mask, though, as you'd told him multiple times that it was a really bad disguise.

"you're starin'." he glanced out his window before pulling out the parking spot.

heat rose to your cheeks. he held his hand out and you laced your fingers in them. he squeezed your hand.

the ride was smooth and calm, the hum of the engine complimenting the mellow yet catchy songs playing. you were jamming out until you realized you hadn't moved in a while.

you ducked closer to the windshield. the light was red, and the traffic was piling up. you pursed your lips, glimpsing at the irritated drivers around you.

"looks like we might not make our res, huh?" you mused. bakugo hummed.

"it's whatever, betcha they'll still take us anyway." he grinned mischievously.

you squeezed his hand, chastising him. "kats, you can't use your 'i'm a famous hero' card on date nights."

"m'just teasing, baby." he chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat. his head rested on his shoulder as he gave you a look. "better get comfortable."

you laughed and let go of his hand, turning fully in your seat to face him. "kats! keep your eyes on the road!"

"why? i wanna look at you." he smirked.

snap!

a bright flash made both of you freeze, though bakugo reacted quicker. he sat up in his seat, leaning over the wheel as he peered out your window at the car beside you. the two girls in the front row were fawning over the picture they just took.

he glared. "a couple of fans, i guess?"

you breathed out a sigh of relief. "thank god i was facing away from—"

snap!

you squeaked in surprise and reflexively covered your face. you leaned back in the seat to see a couple other teens laughing triumphantly over their rare photo.

bakugo observed your shock and panic silently before he laughed, thoroughly amused.

you groaned, slumping below the windows. "i was talking when they took that picture, i'll look distorted." you whined, voice muffled behind your hands.

he tsked. "i'm sure they got your good side, babe." he was trying to act calm but really his mind was racing at a million thoughts per minute. he had tinted windows. he made sure to make an appearance this morning so people would think he was out hero-ing for the whole day. was this a freak occurance, or...?

you opened your phone and were flooded with articles upon articles of you and bakugo on your dates. in hindsight, yes, those disguises were really bad. those pictures were low-quality but anyone who was anyone would be able to recognize bakugo's spiky blond hair.

everyone was speculating who the mystery person was and how their relationship would be, etc etc. you groaned again as you held up your phone to bakugo.

"what?" he whispered, breaking out of his thoughts.

"come down here," you motioned for him to join you below the window.

he scrunched up his face. "... i'm not doing—"

"come down here." you hissed, pulling him by his shoulder to crouch below the window's line of sight. he blinked, not entirely surprised or against the action. "look!"

he scrolled through, some news pages looking familiar. he sighed. "my agency was starting to talk about these rumors."

"why didn't you tell me?!"

"i thought they'd handle it!"

you pouted and he softened, kissing your cheek. "no one's gonna get a hold of any bad pictures of you, promise. i'll make sure of it."

you smiled. "really?"

he grinned, lovesick. "yeah." so what if the whole world would know you're his? he could deal with the details later.

muddled banging made you jump.

"dynamight, is that your s/o?!" the girls from the car over squashed their faces to the window, cupping their hands around their eyes.

you screamed and dynamight gave them a what the hell look.

he blast through the car roof, holding you by the waist as he soared upwards with loud pops behind him. landing on a nearby roof, he checked to make sure you were okay. all he was concerned about was the frown on your face.

"what, you not comfortable with everyone knowin' bout us?" he asked, voice soft.

you perked up, shaking your head. "no! obviously not. i'm just..." you curled your knees to your chest. "you're a hotshot and you have so many people after you. dunno if i meet expectations."

"who cares?" he scoffed indignantly. "you exceed mine. that's all that matters."

you giggled, your sad disposition quickly morphing into a smile. "yeah?"

"yeah." he assured you, pushing your knees down and swinging them to the side. the momentum made your whole body twist so that you were parallel to him. he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you leaned into his embrace.

"now i gotta call that nerd so he can move our car. we're causin' more traffic."

bonus:

"kacchan!" izuku chirped, his s/o on his back as he floated in the air. bakugo's face twisted up as if the green-haired boy wasn't one of his best friends.

"hey." bakugo jerked a thumb at his very broken car. "can you take care of that for me?"

"yeah, i got it." with his gloves on, izuku initiated blackwhip. the tendrils snaked around the car and hoisted it into the air, freeing up that lane once again. "did you suddenly get exposed out of nowhere, too?"

bakugo snorted. "yeah, ain't that a coincidence?"

izuku chuckled softly as he nodded. "yeah, super weird."

who could've gotten the jump on two of the most famous heroes' love lives, anyway?

#bakugou x reader #izuku x reader #deku x reader #izuku midoriya #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #izuku fluff #bakugou fluff #deku fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku

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btsbabe7 · 3 months ago

Text

Lost Love 🥀

Word Count: 4.8k

Pairing: Lucien x reader, Rhysand x reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, choking kink

Synopsis: Known to all, the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand, has a short list of people he trusts, let alone interacts with. To your own surprise, that trust has somehow extended to you, allowing him access. But with Rhysand being on Tamlin’s list of enemies, his frequent visits don’t go unnoticed by a certain member of the Spring Court, whom suspects the Lord of the Night may be staking claim, an interest, in something that was once his.

It isn’t until the shadow in the corner of your room darkens in the midst of the night that you realize you’re once again being blessed by the presence of the cunning, yet clever High Lord of the Night Court. His amethyst eyes cast purple glimmers your way while the rest of his ensemble appears to fade into the surrounding darkness of your room as he nears your bed.

“How did you get in here? How’d you get passed the sentries again?”

Rhysand cocks his head, still amused that you’re interested in things as trivial as how he’s managed to sneak in once again. The point is that he is here now.

“Tamlin has weak spots. One would think he’d be more careful considering the ones he holds dear dwell within these walls.”

You smirk, a cocky little grin before pulling him into your bed. Both of your nightly ensembles are just a few shuffles away from being stripped off, and within seconds, you’re both completely naked and enraptured by each other’s touch.

Rhysand’s hand flattens against your belly as you plant lazy kisses against his parted mouth. His eyes flicker towards yours in amusement as he pulls back to watch you squirm the closer his hand descends towards your own dungeon.

“So impatient,” he chuckles deeply.

“If you’re going to enter my mind, at least do without the physical torment. I’ve already allowed myself to open up to you in too many ways.”

“I can think of a few others,” he teases and licks a stripe up the center of your lips. “You taste delicious.”

So does he, but you don’t have the patience to say so.

“Rhysand,” you groan as his hand stops abruptly against your mound.

He scoffs, shaking his head in disapproval before obeying your command. He presses his lips against your neck, feeling your thumping pulse underneath the flesh before swirling wide, uniform circles over your clitoris. As you gasp, he nips at your neck causing you to sink back into his embrace with a low moan. He never took pleasure in keeping you quiet and he never cared who heard the lewd noises he planned to lure from your vocal cords night after night, and tonight would be no different.

“Rhys…”

“Mhm?” He taunts, circling his digits so fast that your breath catches in your throat.

“Make love to me…”

His teeth graze against your neck once more before he falters. You slip onto all fours in front of him. You reach back and take his length into your hand with a hum, knowing you’ll be satisfied by him as always.

You let out a breathy, pained moan through clenched teeth as he enters you slowly, still mindful of how swollen you’ve been from the prior days of him being lodged inside of you. There’s something surreal about him sneaking in, fornicating with you, holding you until you fell asleep in his arms, then leaving you with a kiss on the forehead just before slipping out at the break of dawn. Sometimes you found yourself relishing in the thought during your day to day activities, craving it long into the night until he reappeared.

“Not very High Fae of you to be on your knees in front of me,” Rhysand groans. “But the sounds coming from you sound so delicious. I already can’t wait to have you again tomorrow.”

“Rhys, we both know this is—” You gasp as he grasps your throat and gives it a gentle squeeze before thrusting mercilessly into your swollen folds.

“Were you going to say something, darling?” He mocks and strokes your curls as harsh moans flood from your parted mouth. He knows you hate when he calls you that. “You’ve always been such an exemplary High Fae. I’m beginning to wonder where the hell it all went wrong.”

Your eyes roll back, breath stifled and voice restricted as Rhysand fucks you into oblivion for the remainder of the night with his hand still cupped firmly around your throat.

“Rhysand was detected within the house again. Looking for Feyre no doubt,” Tamlin states matter-of-factly over a plate full of assorted meat and fruit he hasn’t touched even once.

You glance towards Feyre—watching, gauging her expression for whatever connection she may have to Rhysand aside from the tattoo inked on her arm. You’d always wondered what the pair did while she was away at the mysterious Night Court for a week each month. Rhysand had even extended the invitation to you, but you knew if Tamlin got word of it, there’d be a never-ending war between the two. Feyre had told you about her arrangement during the few times you two were able to find yourselves alone in your short time back. Though, you still can’t decipher why Tamlin believed Rhysand had been there for her in the first place when it wasn’t her allotted week of the month.

Much to your surprise, Feyre has mastered the art of stillness in her features, but her hands still fall short of that mastery. Her grip tightens around the goblet, so tight that you fear it may shatter at her will. And for Tamlin’s sake, she manages to withhold.

Had Rhysand been looking for her when he’d snuck into the manor from the start?

It would explain why he’d felt so comfortable roaming room after room, seeking something or someone out the very first night you’d caught him in the dark hallway—the glitz of glamour never fooled you. Just two more doors and he would’ve found her plastered against Tamlin’s chest, dreaming peacefully now that she’s begun to come to terms with her past. He only had to sneak by two more doors all the nights that followed, but instead he stopped his search entirely to sneak into yours.

You snort, swirling the clear water in your own glass before taking a swig.

“Is something funny?” Tamlin inquires.

You lazily move your eyes from Feyre to the extended claws of the High Fae to the right of you at the head of the table.

Fucking Tamlin.

You could snort again, laugh even, at his childish expression of anger. He’s always had a hard time controlling his rage, even as a child. It’s a shame to see that he hasn’t picked up as quickly as his counterpart on mastering the art of stillness—the real illusion, the real glamour of this world.

You smile in amusement before responding, “It’s just a shame that security seems to be lacking around here. I could’ve returned much sooner had I known.”

“There isn’t much need for it now that our powers are back and Amarantha is dead,” Lucien counters.

You toss him a warning glance so he remembers his place.

“Furthermore, even with our powers being returned, it’s concerning that High Fae like Rhysand still manage to slip within these walls. Old protector of Tamlin aside, this is now the fourth night just this week, is it not?”

Tamlin’s eyes narrow in on yours. His poor way of attempting to read you.

“Do you know more than you’re letting on about Rhysand’s frequent visits within our walls?”

You glance at the water again, watching the swirling come to a calm, steady halt. A distorted reflection of Lucien, who sits across from you dances beyond it, and the glimmering gems of the crystal chandelier above dances on the surface. You stare at it, still unperturbed by Tamlin’s inquiries.

“I don’t have time to toil over old family feuds. Perhaps you should befriend this High Fae? Maybe he will then learn to knock on the front door instead of sneaking in. Maybe he can even eat breakfast with us.”

Tamlin claws into the table, jaw clenched, and Feyre’s eyes meet yours, but you don’t need to put up a mental shield to know what she’s attempting to do. Your shield has always stood strong, your main issue has always been being able to let it down.

“I’ll also be busy, so don’t bother coming to find me today,” you mutter while placing the glass on the table before escorting yourself out of the sickeningly beautiful dining hall.

It isn’t long before a knock on your door has you rolling your eyes in annoyance. You slip your miniature, dragon-handled dagger between the pages of your book and set it on the wooden nightstand with an irritable sigh.

“I do believe I said I didn’t want to be bothered today,” you groan and swing the door open.

Golden rays of sunlight flood throughout the room, extending its grace through the open door, and illuminating the red hair and bright eyes of your unannounced guest. You’ve been expecting Feyre all morning, the always curious fiancé of Tamlin, but you now find yourself blessed by the presence of Tamlin’s emissary.

“Lucien.”

You move aside, allowing him to step inside and close the door swiftly behind him. He’s silent as he steps in further, surveying around the room, searching for something. Perhaps evidence of your dealings with a particular High Lord or anything that goes against precious Tamlin’s wishes and rules.

“What is it you’re looking for exactly?”

“Was he here?”

You shake your head in amazement, too thoroughly entertained to respond immediately. Lucien has always been one for good fun and a bit of theatrics, so you’re sure he won’t mind the long pause.

“Was who here?”

He whirls towards you and much to your surprise, not an inkling of sarcasm or enjoyment lingers in his stare. He hasn’t come to play games; he is serious this time. He paces the space between you two, leaving as much as a hands length between your bodies.

You glance at him smugly, teasingly.

“He was wasn’t he? He’s been sneaking in to be with you?”

“I’m not sure what or who you’re referring to, Lucien.”

“Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court.”

You snicker.

“Ah, you think I’m the High Fae’s plaything? His concubine? I guess that would be better than becoming his spy, right? Easier to conceal.”

Lucien’s eyes focus on yours and you have to snap your gaze away. It’s been so long since the both of you found yourselves this close. Much too long to find it as comforting as you once had, especially with him interrogating you on Rhysand.

“Everything I do is for good reason, nothing more, and surely nothing less,” you state sternly.

“So, you and I? For good reason or just good fun?”

“Both,” you admit, now waltzing around him to escape his piercing gaze.

“I don’t care if he was here in the manor. I don’t care that he’s sneaking in multiple times a week, slipping through our defenses. He always had that advantage. I just want to know if he’s lain in this bed… with you.”

You stop your pacing, thanking the Cauldron that you’re facing the breezing, golden-speckled curtains in the far side of the bedroom. You’re grateful that he hadn’t witnessed your smirk straighten into a hard line when the last two words slipped into the air, lingering in your ears, in your mind, between old lovers.

“What’s it matter to you, Lucien, who I lie and don’t lie with?”

You hear his breath catch in his throat, followed by a guttural groan.

“You know why it matters to me, Y/n.”

You swallow the lump that’s begun to rise in your throat, wishing nothing more than to have that stupid glass of water you’d been clinging to all morning. Now, more than ever, you need something to help subdue the dryness, the pain burning through your veins.

You turn your on your heels and face him, only to run right into his slender, muscular chest.

Had your mind been so loud that you haven’t heard him cross the room?

Another golden ray catches in his eyes, illuminating the russet color of his original eye, and the metallic gold that now takes the place of the one he’d lost so long ago. You stare into it, a reminder of good things lost and replaced, broken but fixed, lost and found again. But your ship with Lucien on it had long sailed decades ago.

“You know why he sent me away,” you breathe.

You still remember that day as if it were yesterday. The day you’d been snatched from Lucien’s arms by Tamlin and sent away from the Spring Court, temporarily banished from your home for falling in love with the red-maned High Fae in the midst of the dire curse. At the beginning of it all, Tamlin only deemed finding his own love necessary in order to break it. Finding a human that matches Amarantha’s requirements felt endless. He couldn’t afford distractions and he surely couldn’t afford for his emissary to become distracted, not when he needed him most.

“But you’re back.”

“Lucien, I made a promise that I wouldn’t come back unless my love for you had faded. Tamlin couldn’t afford distractions. I was putting everything at risk…”

“We,” he corrects and steps closer. “You weren’t alone in that decision, and as you said, you could only return if it lessened, not if your love for me had disappeared altogether. And with the curse broken, we can start over.”

You try to fight a childish grin.

He and Tamlin have always managed to find loopholes in things, a way to steer things their way. You too are the same at your core. It’s the very reason you’d been able to return. You’d made a bargain of your own to return here. A bargain to remove a bit of the love you felt for him at a cost, a debt only you could pay. You knew you could live without loving him as much, but you couldn’t live without him in your life. You had to pay a price to be here, to see him again. But soon, your expression hardens again. No matter what you feel for Lucien now, it doesn’t change the fact that Rhysand has managed to grow on you, and you on him over the last few months.

“Lucien, Rhys and I—“

“Rhys, really?” He sounds like Tamlin, a deep disapproval in his tone, judging you and your poor decisions. “Y/n, tell me you didn’t. Not with him.”

You shake your head slowly.

You’ve done many things to Lucien, but lying to him is where you’ve always drawn the line. You could snake your way out of Feyre’s snares and mind traps if you needed, Rhysand’s too. You could divert conversations with Tamlin, a skill you’d both picked up from the High Fae that led these lands just a generation before you two. You could even swindle a High Fae or two, tricking them into allowing you shelter in their courts to escape being Under the Mountain, but you’ve always given Lucien the truth, even if it hurt him.

He falters, staggers so much that he finds himself sitting at the edge of your unmade bed. His head falls in anguish, a sea of red shielding his delicate features as he stares at something on the floor, staring at anything besides you. You know his mind is reeling, that he’s disgusting by the idea of the High Lord of the Night Court even breathing the same air as you, let alone touching you. In his eyes, Rhysand had defiled you.

“I’m going to kill him.” He says it so matter-of-factly that your heart skips a beat.

“Why?”

“I’m going to kill Rhysand for touching you. For breathing your air, for sneaking in and defiling you in this very manor—the same manor that houses your brother and his soon-to-be wife, that houses me.”

Your head spins and you want to hurl. You wince as the lingering high that had originated from the pleasure of Rhysand’s hands grazing against your supple body and curls, the feeling of heat that spread from his lips being pressed into your spine as his skilled fingers wrung your neck just hard enough to keep you turned on, the warmth of his tongue lapping over your nipples, only for him to leave them prickling in the coolness of the night as he ravished you night after night fades with Lucien’s last statement.

The room falls silent for only a moment.

“Don’t you dare tell him,” you reply sharply, the words filled with the only anger you can muster towards him because even you aren’t heartless enough to deny him the right to his angry.

Lucien glares up at you.

“That’s all you care about? You can’t possibly think Tamlin is clueless, not after that little show you put on over breakfast.”

“If Tamlin suspects anything, he surely acted clueless, and I know my brother. He doesn’t know why Rhysand has been here. He’ll try to find out, and try as he might, he won’t get the answer he’s searching for, especially not from you.”

Lucien rises to his feet, rises to the challenge like a true warrior.

“You doubt that I’ll report you? That I’ll fail to expose Rhysand’s frequent escapades? Tamlin’s rules are the law we follow here, whether you like it or not.”

You sigh through your nostrils, eyes narrowing at the thought that kind of humiliation would bring your brother. The High Lord of the Spring Court having a sister who shacks up with his enemy in his own home, treacherous. Tamlin would become the joke of Prythian, if he hasn’t already managed to do so on his own.

“He’d be humiliated. And at what expense?”

“He’d know the truth.”

You scoff at the idea of truth.

Tamlin always knew the truth in the end, but in his own childish ways, he’s always chosen what he wished to believe and what he chooses to react to. He is a leader through and through, no matter who gets hurt in the process.

“And where did that get us last time, Luc?”

You both know it’s not worth the risk, not if he ever wants to see you again. He knows that the moment Tamlin banishes you, you’ll be relocated to the Night Court with Rhysand courting you until the end of eternity or until one of you grew bored. Either way, you wouldn’t return this time and Lucien couldn’t bear that thought. It would drive him mad knowing that he would be practically handing you over to Rhysand with a shiny bow tied to your golden wings if he were to report you. Lucien’s eyebrows unknit themselves and he sits up a bit taller as his eyes continue to roam over you.

You’d only managed to slip from your bodice and dress before he’d knocked, leaving the curves of your body clothed in a deep crimson lace. You’d forgotten about indecency the moment he’d stepped into the room, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His eyes trace over the two budges of pillowy flesh cascading over the sheer, delicate lace that covers only two-thirds of your chest. Something primal overtakes you when his eyes fixate there. And as if he’s beckoning you, you’re lured into his lap, stroking long strands of auburn through your manicured fingers. Your fingers run down to the ends and come back up to cup his face. You two exchange a glance that admits everything that needs to be said, no words fill the space, only lips against lips. Flesh upon flesh.

Lucien kisses you hungrily, ascending a hand up the length of your spine before cupping the nape of your neck and hoisting you on top of him as he lies back on the unclean, silky, white sheets. He knows what happened here just the night before, you both know, but neither of you care in this moment. In just a breath, your body is yearning for him to end decades worth of aching, decades of torment from being ripped apart.

Lucien unfastens the clasps of your bra, but your mouths never part. As he guides the straps down the length of your arms, you struggle with unfastening the buttons of his trousers fast enough. He chuckles into your mouth after your irritable huff slips into his own. Only then does he pull away, just enough to meet your darkening eyes. You follow the sound of your bra clasping against the floor, but Lucien pulls your gaze back towards him. There’s a glistening in his own eyes and not from the sun. You wish more than ever that you could embrace the stillness you had mastered over the decades, but you never could with Lucien. You still can’t now, not with his breath tickling strands of your curls against your hunched shoulders and his eyes focused on your entire being.

He unbuttons his tunic first, painfully slow as if it’s his own form of punishment for sleeping with someone else in this very bed. The moment it’s off, you caress the richness of his skin, taking in the warmth of it against your palms. You’ve missed touching him.

You’ve missed him for decades at a time.

Lucien unfastens the remaining buttons of his trousers and bucks his hips effortlessly to work them off. You don’t move an inch aside from coming up in the slightest to allow him to slip them mid-thigh. He kicks the remainder off with ease and they fall to the floor with a thud.

“We didn’t lock the door,” you whisper.

“I don’t care about the damn door,” he sighs sharply and pulls you in so fast your head begins to spin again.

His lips are starved for yours, smothering against your own as every twist turns into a fruitful attempt to pry yours open wider. He presses his tongue inside, groaning sensually at the taste of pomegranate and cardamom lingering on your tongue from breakfast. He licks his tongue against yours, then the roof of your mouth before quickly withdrawing it just as fast as it’d come.

You let out a soft giggle against him as your hands find their rightful place in the red mess cascading against white sheets. Your giggle quickly turns into a stifling breath the moment you feel him working his length against your own heat, the damp lace between your thighs ripped to shreds in his free hand. It’s been so long since you’ve had him this way, at least forty years. You’ve waited a long time to be back in Lucien’s arms and no High Fae of this world would take that from you again.

In one breath, you think of Rhysand, his amethyst colored eyes, the feeling of his short, course hair against your fingertips, the soft darkness of his demeanor turning you on as he fucked you into oblivion for four nights this week alone. In the next breath, every prior thought becomes muddled when Lucien’s length spills into you. You swear you can see stars as your eyes roll back and close in sheer pleasure.

“Luc…” His nickname spills from your lips as if it’s the sweetest song he’s ever heard and he groans in response the moment your hips begin to roll.

You don’t have to open your eyes to know his are shut too, you can feel it in the pulsing wedged between your swollen walls. You can feel it in the heat that pools at his core and where your fingers are placed against his thrumming chest. You rock your hips rhythmically, rejoicing in the almost forgotten feeling of him. You missed the soft burning that came with his girth stretching you out, the feeling of his hands plastered against your hips, your breasts, and the nape of your neck when he needed you closer.

He could never get you close enough.

“Y/n,” Lucien howls, causing your eyes to lazily open towards him.

It was a mistake to look at him, a mistake to lie eyes upon a creature so beautiful when you’re already teetering on the edge of reality.

He lies sprawl out underneath you, eyes heavy and drunk on you. His brows knit softly as if he’s attempting to fight back the feeling of all the pleasure hitting him at once. His lips are parted as yours are, spilling deep squeals and heavy pants flowing throughout the room and swirling in your eardrums like a melody you’ll both never tire of. His mane is sweaty and wild, sprawling out in all directions around his head. And gold, you see it all around you. Golden light filtering through the curtains, throughout the room again, dancing in his eyes as if the sun knows your that your only secret, your weakness is him.

And you fall apart.

Both of Lucien’s hands find your waist again and cascade up your spine, drawing you in until you’re chest to chest, breathing and panting as one. He flips you over, only slipping out for a second before slipping back inside of you with a groan too loud to ignore.

“Lucien,” you purr mercilessly.

You can’t get enough of him. You can’t get enough of the feeling of him stuffed inside, so deep that you’re attempting to bottle up the feeling up to savor for the rest of your life if you two are ever forced apart again. He kisses into your neck, your chest, your breasts, leaving you a panting, moaning mess beneath him. You wrap your legs around him, planting your feet firmly on his flexing muscles, driving him deeper until there’s no space left inside of you.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, eyes blown in pure bliss.

Thank the Cauldron is what you want to shout for finally reuniting you two.

Lucien’s skin melds into yours and his strokes become slower and lengthener, much deeper. Every movement of his hips has you gasping and clasping against his sweaty body, clinging to his biceps as your own core begins to tighten. You can feel the fire igniting inside of you, starting in your chest and traveling towards your own core with each slip. Your legs had fallen off of him, lazily spread on either side of him as he thrusts a bit harder. A sudden momentum overtakes him and the lewd clapping of flesh against flesh can certainly be heard by anyone who dared to come near the vicinity and certainly by the excellent hearing of the higher faes dwelling within these very walls.

“Y/n,” he grunts, cupping each side of your face. His right thumb drags down your bottom lip and you bite it softly as sweat spills from the tip of his nose onto your chest.

You smile at him, taking in the beautiful sight in front of you. He’s always been the most beautiful creature to you. Lucien, the son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court. Lucien, whose eye had been stole by Amarantha because of your brother’s actions. Lucien, the survivor of many trials. Lucien, the emissary of Tamlin and a loyal member of this court. Lucien, your very first and only true love.

Your body shudders and the moan that escapes as a result shreds through the fabric of ecstasy and reality. It takes everything in your being to keep your wings tucked in from the sheer pleasure shooting through your body, coursing through your veins and nerves. In the same moment, all sense of poise leaves Lucien, expels from his body as he plunges into your watering depths until he too has lost all senses.

A bellowing groan escapes his lips as he falters almost immediately. He digs his nails into the surrounding sheets instead of tearing your flesh and his noise rumbles between your breasts. You huff a laugh and pull his chin up towards you, taking his mouth against yours as he spills into you, finally claiming you as his own. You push his hair back with a weak grin, softening under his touch before kissing him deeply once more.

You stay in this position for what seems to be forever, wrapped in each other’s naked embrace, breathing in the rhythmic noise of two hearts beating as one. You never want to miss him again. You never want to lose him again. You never want a day to pass where you don’t tell him how you feel.

“I love you,” you whisper softly, stroking his hair in the same tone.

Your heart beats wildly against his eardrum; you can feel it in your own chest, in your entire being. You’d failed to say those words aloud before your brother sent you away, and so many times before. You’d known from the moment he’d been offered a place in this court that you loved him, even if he didn’t feel the same way at the time. You knew you had to tell him once you were able to be with him again.

He nods knowingly against you, shifting his head on your chest to meet your glistening eyes.

Lucien doesn’t even wait another heartbeat before saying, “I love you too.”

A/N: Please won’t come for meeee! I just finished ACOTAR and am just staring ACOMAF, so I’m still a newbie learning all the characters and this world. I haven’t read any fanfics yet and don’t plan to until I finish for the sake of spoilers. I’m already partial to Rhysand (nothing hotter than a misunderstood dark lord) and Lucien (who deserves all the love in the world), so I couldn’t pick just one. I wrote this on a whim last night with probably not enough editing. It’s kind of short and would love to write more on this, but I know I’ll overthink and mess things up. Anyways, I’ve been a bit nervous about posting, so I hope it reached the right audience. 🥲🧚🏾‍♀️♥️

Running away to continue to reading ACOMAF again!

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ Perfect Storm (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Rain Does Not Fall on One Roof Alone (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Untitled (m.) - Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Golden - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Coffee (Love You a Latte) - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ For You Always (m.) - Severus Snape x reader

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

August 2024

78 notes · View notes

theeoriginals · 8 months ago

Note

I’d love to see your take on an arranged marriage with klaus (like medieval times or some period like that). maybe he’s marrying her to get something from her/her family but there’s something a little off about the reader (hint: she does what giulia tofana did - google her if you’re not familiar!! her story is so fascinating) and when he pieces it together he’s smitten with her 💗💗

aqua tofana | klaus mikaelson

author's note; this has been in my inbox for over a month because i was so inspired by it that I decided a 14k oneshot was necessary I hope I did it justice

klaus mikaelson x reader (no y/n) use of nickname in place of y/n

warnings; arranged marriage, strangers to lovers, klaus is a little shit but so is reader so it's okay, no Y/N, mentions of domestic abuse but not in regards to reader, mentions of poison, fluff, shy!klaus (he is real to me), these two mfers are in LOVE, mikael (a warning in itself), minor violence and bloodshed but nothing too bad. if I missed anything let me know!! this is heavily inspired by ACOTAR bc I just binged the entire series in less than a week so thank you sarah j. maas for your service

The Mikaelsons were said to be a noble family. One with loyalty and strength.

They were coming to stay in their small kingdom, in their castle. Three of them. Elijah, Rebekah, and Niklaus. Looking for a safe haven, to avoid growing conflicts in surrounding areas. Looking for someplace to call home for a little while longer– at least, until they could no longer pass as mortals.

Riverend was perfect for them.

The way the people of Riverend saw it, their problems were their own, and the larger, outlying kingdoms could fight their nonsensical battles without any help from a small, useless kingdom built downstream from them, carved right out of the flowing water that traveled through their town square by the calloused hands of the families that still lived there today.

As far as anyone was concerned, Riverend had no monetary value, no natural resources to capitalize off of, no armies worth rallying, and no animals to trade. The only thing it had was its people, and to most, that meant nothing. It meant they went overlooked, and were never considered in territory battles and similar crises. But to the right person–a dangerous person– such a thing could mean everything.

That is why she was so wary to accept this supposedly noble family into their walls. She had to be wary, to think of the danger they could bring along with them should they stay. How much danger it could put her kingdom in.

It’s why she had further qualms about marrying the man the king had been corresponding with all these months. Said qualms, of course, outside of the fact that she had no real desire to marry, let alone to a stranger. All familiarity aside, she had a duty to her people to maintain their livelihoods and not leave them stranded for her own selfish desires. Even if it meant marrying some man.

With her mother’s voice in her head telling her to keep her chin up and her shoulders back, she was determined to keep her wits about her. She didn’t complain when she was asked to wear one of her nicer gowns to greet the family when they arrived that brisk, cloudy afternoon. She let her ladies dress her in a midnight blue gown that swept along the ground, with sleeves that draped over her hands, leaving no skin visible, spare for her neck and face.

She was escorted by the king to the throne room, where she stood at his shoulder, resting a hand on the embroidered fabric along the muscle hidden beneath the layers. A silent, supportive daughter. A perfect royal family, to anyone who might linger too long while looking in their direction.

Two of their sentries escorted their new houseguests into the throne room, and she did nothing but raise a brow at their humble appearance. The girl, Rebekah, was young. She’d seen better days, and she silently wondered where they had traveled from that had them end up before her and her father with dirt scuffs on their cheeks, and scruffy, unkempt facial hair marring their jaws.

“Welcome, Lords and Lady, to our home,” Her father spoke genially, a content smile on his face as if he was unaware of the judgmental look his daughter was fixing them with. “We’re honored to have you here, honored to build a bridge between our families for years to come.”

One of the long-haired men spoke, his hands clasped neatly behind his back, making him look like he was some proper gentleman and not a random man who had shown up on her doorstep.

“The honor is all ours, Your Majesty. The opportunities that your generosity has given my family have not gone unnoticed. We thank you and the Princess for your kindness.”

The King shifted slightly like he’d forgotten his daughter was there. He turned to look at her over his shoulder, and she met his gaze, peering down at him over the bridge of her nose. “Yes, my daughter. Nyxia. She’s a woman of few words, I must warn you all. And when she chooses to speak, it’d do you well to listen closely.”

All of their eyes shifted to her, but the set of icy blue ones had never left. Not to meet the king’s eyes, or look around at his new home for the foreseeable future of their impending marriage.

“Your Highness,” Blue eyes, suddenly alight with fire. Flame that burns her from the tips of her toes to the base of her scalp that her very hair grows out of. Flame that ravages civilizations, and wipes out bloodlines. She can feel the darkness in him from two simple words. It’d take a fool to not see it. “I look forward to getting to know you before our prospective arrangement takes place.”

He wasn’t lying, she could tell. But his words seemed to hold as much weight as hers did. A hidden meaning tucked behind every spoken syllable. Dangerous. So dangerous. The King was a fool to not see it, but that was neither here nor there.

Licking her lips, she chose her first words carefully. It was always important to make a lasting first impression, but with this man– with her future husband, she wanted to be honest from the start. She wanted, for once, to reveal her hand before the game started. Just to see what he’d do. Just to see what he had planned.

But she didn’t. She knew it would just be chaos. And even though such things were in her blood, she couldn’t risk anything this far into everything.

“Lord Niklaus,” She didn’t move a muscle besides the ones it took to make words form on her tongue. “My kingdom rejoices with your arrival. They will be overjoyed with the announcement of our nuptials.”

And the man, encased in his flames that felt as if they could burn the whole world down should he please, tilted his head and smirked at her. Like he’d heard every thought she’d had in the moments between words.

Nothing else was said between them, not verbally, at least, and the king interrupted the rising tension that was so obvious between the Princess and the Mikaelson siblings, oblivious to the people he’d surrounded himself with.

“Lady Rebekah, my daughter can show you to your rooms in the east wing. You’ll have ladies of your own to help you bathe and dress,” He gestures to the blonde, who looks childishly excited at the thought. “The both of you will be in the west wing, my men can take you to your rooms. We can reconvene tonight at dinner, yes?”

The three siblings bowed at their waist, easily deferring the power back to the King.

“In the meantime, feel free to explore. Our home is yours, now. Make yourselves comfortable.”

She stayed in the throne room long after even her father had left, watching the doors the siblings had been escorted through. She lingered at her place beside the throne, nearly behind it, where her mother once stood behind a man who looked like he belonged on a throne more than any woman would. She laid a hand around the back of the embossed silver and thought to herself that it would look better in gold.

──────

Klaus watched his wife-to-be dig into the dinner presented before them moments ago, her fork the first one to move, even before her father’s. She didn’t sit at the head of the table, but just to the right of her father, and Klaus had taken the seat across from her. He did not doubt that she could feel his eyes on her, but she was pointedly ignoring it in favor of talking to his sister at her side.

Rebekah, ever the people pleaser. Even in their centuries on this earth, Rebekah could never resist the desire to cling to the nearest female in their proximity. He hadn’t said anything to her about it, yet. He figured there was no harm in letting her delude herself into thinking that Princess Nyxia wanted anything to do with any of them.

Elijah wasn’t even pretending to be friendly like he tended to be in this position. He’d been silent for a majority of the day, perhaps tired from their travels, though Klaus doubted it was anything so simple. If Klaus were to look at himself as a King, it would be Elijah as his second, watching everything and everyone, dutifully reporting back to him about usurpers and battles to come. It would be Elijah ripping hearts out, and Klaus taking responsibility for the blood on his brother’s hands.

There was a reason it was only the three of them. His other siblings just didn’t understand that you did everything for family.

He supposes that’s why he’s so curious about the two royals before him. They were the only family they had left, and yet there was something unspoken there, something withheld between them that left a tenuous truce. There was such anger behind Nyxia’s eyes, and Klaus had the urge to push and push at it until it finally shattered. Elijah often compared him to a child for this inane urge, and Klaus couldn’t deny it.

“This food is lovely, Your Majesty,”

Rebekah looked at Nyxia’s father with a sweet little smile, and Klaus wondered how she managed to maintain such a degree of humanity inside of her after everything.

“Oh, it’s all my sweet Nyx,” He turns his pleasant, kingly smile to his daughter. Looks like he owes her the world. She doesn’t return an ounce of the fondness, but she still smiles, like she knows it’s expected of her. “She has specific tastes, so I prefer her to pick the menu. Our cooks in the kitchen work to make it all come to life and it never disappoints.”

It works in the way that it makes Rebekah turn adoring eyes onto Nyxia once again, but it doesn’t do as such for the two brothers. There’s something about this place that drew them to it in the first place and they wanted to figure it out, neither of them did very well when it came to venturing into the unknown, so they devised the plan. It’s set in motion, it’s happening as they sit at this table and eat this food, and yet he still feels wrongfooted. He’s missing something, he’s missing the thing that brought him to this small kingdom in the first place.

He doesn’t like living in the dark.

Elijah cuts a thin bite of the lamb chop on the plate in front of him. “Do you cook, then, Princess?”

“If I am feeling particularly inspired, yes,” She grabs her silver chalice, swirling the dark red wine in it before she takes a drink. “I prefer vinification.”

The King’s face lights up like he’d been waiting for another opportunity to brag on his daughter. “Yes, Nyxia made the wine we’re drinking tonight. She tries to make a personal barrel at least once a year, and it’s always the most unique flavor. She goes out and picks fruits from our trees up near the bluffs, where–”

“I’m sure they aren’t interested to know what fruits our land produces, Father.”

“On the contrary,” Her eyes shot to Elijah at his words. “I think it’d be quite ignorant of us to turn down any knowledge of the land we’re to call… home. It seems to be a very special place.”

She watches him for a moment, eyes narrowing at his unsuspecting tone. “Yes,” She muses quietly, looking away from Elijah to meet Klaus’s gaze like she can tell Elijah’s speaking on his behalf. “Perhaps I’ll show you what makes it so special.”

None of them acknowledged the fact that it wasn’t so much of an offering of camaraderie, but rather a threat.

──────

Months go by. Time passes peacefully, but Klaus is growing restless.

With the announcement of their joining sent out to the few people they intended to invite outside of their kingdom, they had begun preparing the castle for the celebration and the princess found herself preoccupied with menial tasks, like picking out what flower arrangements to line the aisle with and what color banners should hang from the ceilings above them.

Throughout it, she’d done her best to avoid the Mikaelsons but maintained a close enough distance so they couldn’t claim she was giving them the cold shoulder. She’d grown quite good at falsifying closeness throughout her years. She was designed to have a connection with her people that displayed generosity but not bias. A relatability, but not a weakness.

She was sure that Rebekah would call them best friends by now, but she also knew the girl could not even tell a person what the princess’s favorite color was if someone ever bothered to ask her.

She has always been able to exist in a way that makes her entirely extraordinary, but forgettable the moment she’s out of sight.

She’s been able to use the wedding as an excuse to avoid isolated interactions with Klaus, but she knew he’d catch her without an excuse one of these days. She would’ve preferred to avoid it for a bit longer, but she wasn’t unprepared when it finally happened.

Standing in the aisle of the throne room where the banners of white and gold were hanging above the place they were to stand in front of her people and all of the guests they’d sent invitations out to and declare an undying bond that didn’t exist, she felt a rage bubble inside of her that she was quick to smother into nothing but cinders and ash when she heard the doors creak open behind her and footsteps slow as he stopped beside her.

“You’re a hard woman to track down, Princess,”

“You could have sent for me at any time. It is my duty to serve my subjects,”

She glances at Klaus out of the corner of her eye and sees an amused look grow on his face. “Is that what I am? One of your subjects?”

“Until we are bound by law, yes, Lord Mikaelson. You are one of my subjects and I your Princess. Soon enough you’ll be Prince, and you will also owe loyalty to my subjects because this place does not exist without them.”

“You take such pride in this kingdom, in these lands, yet you did not win it in a battle, have not even fought in one, as far as I’m aware. You have no value to other kingdoms, and yet your father brags of orchards and vineyards with bountiful fruits. He tells tales of heroic civilians, always offering a helping hand to those in need. Sparing what they can, to maintain their peace here. It’s an odd thing, considering I’d never seen or heard of Riverend before that time all those months ago when I first met your father.”

“And yet, here you stand, within the walls of my kingdom, amongst my people. In my home.”

There’s no humor in her voice. There isn’t any hatred in it, either, and he can tell she’s got that impenetrable mask on again. Even her momentary anger or irritation was different from this nothingness.

He can hear her father’s words from that very first day, telling them all that her words are important. He remembers thinking it was such an odd thing to point out at that time. It almost rings like a warning, now, and not a twisted compliment for the woman.

“It’s curious, is all. I wonder if I’ll understand what inspires such devotion once I am Prince, or if it is a feeling only you experience.”

She turns, finally, to look at him. “You are interested in learning what makes me love my people and my home?”

He ducks his head in a nod. “Guilty, I suppose.”

“Then I will show you,” She nods once, firmly. Like she’s just decided it then and there because of his earnest words, and he thinks it’s a ridiculous, rash thing, but when he looks into her eyes there is no hesitation or wariness. “Tonight, we will have dinner and I will answer all of your questions. I will show you why I would spill endless blood for this kingdom, and never ask any of my people to do the same for me in return.”

He raises his brows, letting a sliver of his suspiciousness show in his icy, blue-gray eyes. “You’re offering such honesty to my family after weeks of pretending like we don’t exist? Forgive me if I’m skeptical of your generosity.”

“Not your family. You. You and I will have dinner alone, and I will tell you everything you want to know,” She corrects him, earning a more genuine look of shock from him. “You are to be my husband. One day you will be my King, and I your Queen. Is honesty not the place to start?”

Klaus falls silent, watching her, waiting for a slip-up. For any sign of hesitation or scheming behind her endless eyes. Finding nothing, he bites out a wry laugh and nods in agreement, finally tearing his eyes away from her to look around at the decorated throne room.

The betrotheds stand silent together for a few minutes, and she offers no insight into whatever it is she’s thinking as she stares at the throne front and center in the room.

“Is my help needed for our wedding?” Klaus says suddenly as if there isn’t a mounting tension building in the room like a shadow of the night.

“Not unless you are offering,” She says simply. “I’ve told them white and gold, for our colors. My dress is to be fashioned similarly, as are your garments. I’m sure you’ll be summoned for fittings, but our seamstresses have plenty of work to do before then.”

The man hummed agreeingly. “Then I shall leave you to it. And I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

“Before you go, Lord Mikaelson,”

“I am certain you can call me Niklaus. Just Klaus if you’re feeling particularly agreeable that day, Princess,”

She raised a brow like one might raise their lips in humor. “Niklaus.”

He looks at her indulgently.

“Even after we are married, outside of our duties to this kingdom, I will never ask you for anything,” She says, her words striking something like a warning bell inside him. “But right now, I have a question for you.”

“Ask me anything, Princess,”

“Do you know who you are?”

Klaus’s eyebrows flexed on his forehead. “Pardon?”

She turns to face him head-on, standing before him like she did that first day they arrived, only this time there was barely a foot of distance between them. He could almost see her pulse move in the long lines of her throat. “I ask you, as your future wife, do you know who you are? Do you feel the shadow that shields your soul? Do you feel the fire that consumes you?”

She tilts her head at his suspended silence. “You hide from the light that is still inside of you. You hide from someone. But you won’t hide from me. You can’t. It is because of that unfair advantage that I am offering you honesty. Know that I do this for you as an act of trust. Do not underestimate the weight of such a thing, or you will see just what I am willing to do for this place.”

She side-steps him and walks past him, leaving him in a stunned silence that quickly turns into rage that they both know he can’t take out on anything within the walls of this castle, and the borders of this kingdom.

She’s established the high ground. And she has made it clear that it is not Klaus standing up there, looking down at her, but rather the other way around.

She’s offered to even the playing field, though. He’s curious to see just how much honesty she’ll be parting with tonight. He’s curious to see how it will end.

──────

The table is set for two.

It’s different from the dining table they’ve been occupying for the past three weeks. This is a table made for two, and only for two.

Candlelight casts shadows around the room, and Klaus does a slight double take as he walks towards the table, escorted quietly by one of the sentries from his quarters to this room. He’s loath to admit he was distracted by thinking about all of the possibilities of this dinner to pay attention to the fact that he was being led to the east wing and not the usual central hall where meals were had.

But it’s too late for him to question it, as the sentry is walking out and a door across the room opens, revealing the princess.

She’s changed again– always in different gowns throughout the day. This one is similar to the one she was wearing when they first met. A blue so dark it looks black, that holds color like the night sky. Sleeves that drape over her shoulders and cinch down to her wrist, leaving only her hands bare. With the dim lighting of this private dining room, shadows dance around her face, and he thinks to himself that the shadows cling to her.

She gestures for him to take a seat, already doing so, and she immediately grabs a corked bottle from the side of the table, popping it open and pouring their golden chalices halfway full before she sets it back down.

Klaus takes the first drink and has to bite back the pleased noise he starts to make, if only out of spite.

“I’ve been fermenting this wine for three years,” She informs him, seemingly hearing the noise anyway, if the gleam in her eye is anything to go by. “It’s from my private reserves.”

“Aren’t they all from your private reserves?”

“No, I give barrels to the tavern in town,” She swirls it around in her cup, quirking a brow at him.

“Give, or sell?”

“Aren’t you the one who said I have undying generosity for this kingdom for no good reason?” She takes a small sip of the wine, holding it in her mouth for a moment before she sets it down. “It’s too bitter for my liking.”

Klaus hums, taking another drink. “Perhaps you’re just your own biggest critic,”

“Mm, perhaps,” She concedes, fluttering her eyes in a slight roll. It’s as casual as he’s ever seen her, and she’s still sitting stock-straight in her chair, shoulders back and chin high. As royal as ever. “Are you going to start asking your questions?”

He smirks, tilting his head in a slight nod. “Maybe I was waiting for your permission. I wouldn’t want to be a rude dinner guest, after all. Not after you’ve brought this lovely meal into this secluded space,”

“It’s mine. I don’t always prefer to eat in the company of others,” She says. “My bedroom is through that door.”

She points to the door she’d come through upon his arrival, and his eyes follow the curve of her arm through the fabric shifting along it.

“How lucky I am, then, hm?”

“Oh, most people would not call it luck, Niklaus. In fact, I think I heard your brother say to your sister once that it feels like you’re all just sheep in a wolf’s den.”

Klaus makes a dry noise of acknowledgment, mentally cursing his brother for saying such things within earshot of anyone, let alone his soon-to-be wife. “My brother’s desire to protect this family often leads him to paranoia, I’m afraid.”

“I never said he was wrong.”

Klaus’s hands flex in his lap, out of view of the princess. “Oh, is that so? Then maybe I am ready to start asking questions,”

She beckons him on with a wave of her hand. Neither of them has touched their meals. He doesn’t think they’ve broken eye contact, either. Locked in this stalemate, tension rising and rising and rising.

“I have traveled far and wide in my days on this planet, and I have come across some very strange places, I must say. But never have I come across a place that simply… doesn’t exist,”

If Klaus knew any better, he’d think she looked excited at the words coming out of his mouth.

“That is not a question, my Lord,”

He smirks at her correction. “What is it? What is it that hides this place from the map? How do you keep travelers passing through, yet no one has ever had so much as a–a tall tale, or some monster story to tell about this place? You fight in no wars but you have sentries stationed throughout this castle, on guard every night and day. You trade no goods, but these lands are bountiful in fruits and vegetables, crops as big as this castle grow in people’s yards. So, tell me, Princess Nyxia, how do you do it?”

She shifts in her chair, leaning her arm onto the armrest, and for the first time since he met her all those months ago, she smiles.

She smiles widely, and it’s not something wicked or cold, but instead, it’s amusement, through and through. Every bit of that coldness stays in her eyes, though. Darkness still clinging to her like a child and its mother.

“There are stories about things– creatures so dangerous that you cannot even utter their name, for fear of inviting them into your home, your mind,” She starts, undoubtedly aware of the anticipation thrumming in his veins. He’s had to be so careful about feeding since they came here, compelling people, and never taking too much, because he can’t risk her catching on. He thinks he feels more human than ever within these walls, and it’s such an odd thing.

“My real name has not been spoken in decades. Most people in this kingdom, in this castle, do not know me as anything other than Nyxia. It is the name that my mother held when people started to refuse to say her name as well, and in honor of her great life, I now bear it as my own.”

Klaus lets out a slow breath, a feeling like adrenaline coursing through him. “What are you, Nyxia?”

“I am the shadows that follow you along the walls, I am the very stars in the sky. I am the end to every day, and I will be the end to it all when I am finally called back home. I am the thing you see every time you blink your eyes, Klaus Mikaelson. I am darkness.”

He shuffles, leaning his elbows onto the table to examine her closely, in a way that he hasn’t had the chance to do since their arrival. “You keep this place hidden so that people don’t find you and hunt you.”

“Why do you think you and your siblings found this place? Why do you think you could see and remember what so many others could not?” She raised a brow, pulling her cloth napkin from her lap and dropping it atop her untouched plate. “I know what you are, Niklaus Mikaelson. The Original Hybrid. The divide in you is shadowed in darkness. I am, and have been a part of your very being from the day you took your first breath and were declared a bastard.”

He flinches minutely, but she sees it anyway. “Why me? Why lure me and my family here? To kill us? I have no doubt you have every means to kill creatures such as ourselves if your claims of power are to be taken as truth.”

“I have no intention to kill you, Klaus,” She pushes her chair back from the table, standing up. Silently, she gestures for him to do the same. “I have not yet told you why I do what I do here.”

“You haven’t even told me what you do here, let alone why,”

She chuckles freely and he ignores the chill that travels down his spine at the sound. It’s like she’s been waiting on him to break this dam between them, and now that her secret is out, she’s alive.

She’d told him earlier to realize the weight that is behind her trust, her honesty. He will admit to himself that he had underestimated it, even in the wake of her precautions.

“Your family is not expecting you tonight, right?”

He raises his brows but shakes his head. “I told them I’d be having dinner with you and that I’d be out for the night. Why do you ask?”

“We’ll be taking a trip. I have things to do,”

It’s all she says before she leads him into her bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind them.

──────

Draped in cloaks that covered their faces in shadows she had promised him would keep them hidden while they made their way through muddy alleys and thick groves of trees, Klaus couldn’t help but wonder just what he’d gotten himself into.

He didn’t often admit that he was in over his head– was rarely in such a position at all– but this. This was something he was utterly in the dark about. The irony wasn’t lost on him, either.

“Where are we going, Princess?”

“You may call me Nyxia, you know. You did earlier,”

“I am nothing if not a gentleman, Princess Nyxia,”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s an unfamiliar degree of humor in the action. He’s still discombobulated at her complete flip of a switch, but he’s trying to familiarize himself with it. He selfishly hopes that she doesn’t slide that cold mask back on when they return to the castle.

“They’ll be just through here,” Nyxia led them through another tightly packed thicket of trees, and just as Klaus was about to complain, they broke through into a clearing that nearly took his breath away.

Though they were undoubtedly still surrounded by the forest she’d traipsed them through for the past hour, at least, this ovaloid clearing was shrouded in a different kind of darkness than the night that encased the rest of the area.

Light up by the stars glimmering just out of reach above their heads, women mingled about, stopping to talk to one another. A few children ran by, laughing as they chased one another barefoot through the trees, disappearing out of sight and earshot as soon as they left the area, only to reappear before him like a bursting bubble.

Klaus turned slightly to look at Nyxia, watching her pull her cloak down off her head and smile kindly, genuinely, to the people who had stopped and gathered around them. Klaus took the cue and pulled his own hood off, and his presence immediately earned wary looks.

Glancing at Nyxia, he fought the urge to jump when her hand landed on his arm, her face contorting into an understanding but reassuring look. “No, no, look,”

She pulled Klaus closer to her, keeping her hand wrapped around his arm as he looked warily at the sea of faces watching him. Feeling entirely caught off guard, he stayed silent, happily letting Nyxia take the reins.

“This is my betrothed,” Her words immediately earn a variety of reactions. From the children, their hesitance turns into immediate adoration. From the older women, teasing laughs are shared between them, and Nyxia bats a hand out to silence them, though it’s not done out of real offense.

Friends, he realizes. These are her friends. She’s brought him to meet her friends that she has hidden in this patch of woods, further secluding a place that already doesn’t exist outside of its own bubble.

An unavoidable arrow of fondness shoots down his spine, and he bats it away as quickly as he can.

“So our lovely princess has finally brought a prince to meet us,” One of the older women grins tauntingly, and Klaus eyes the wrinkles around her mouth that only come from smiling too much, and the strands of gray hair falling out of the braids she’s got piled atop her head.

“Klaus,” He says, somewhat shocked by the emotion in his voice. “You may call me Klaus.”

“Klaus, then,” The woman nods, conveying something to Nyxia that is seemingly translated between the two of them, though Klaus couldn’t even begin to guess what went unsaid.

Nyxia finally removes her hand from his arm to reach into her cloak, pulling three small bottles out and passing them off to the older woman, whose face turns somewhat solemn.

“I know that one is for Merida,” The woman starts, meeting Nyxia’s gaze from beneath her lashes. “But who are the other two?”

“Reya and Liesl,”

The woman curses beneath her breath and apologizes when the children nearby gasp.

“When am I to bring this to them?”

“Within the week. It has only been getting worse lately,”

As if she were a soldier being told her life was being offered up on the chopping block, the woman nodded and tucked the vials into the deep pockets of the dress she wore. “I will send word once they are here.”

“Thank you, Theresé,” She grabs Klaus’s arm gently once more, beginning to steer him towards the path they’d taken, but she stops short, looking over her shoulder with a slight smirk. “You are all invited to the wedding, of course. Next month. I will send someone to escort you to the castle.”

A bout of excited tittering follows them out, and they walk in silence, heading a bit of the way back towards the castle before she leads them off to the left, walking them across one of the runoff creeks that flow with the river through town.

He remains silent until she leaves his side to push open a gate ahead of them, the metal creaking and groaning beneath her force, but giving way eventually.

This time, when Klaus steps forward, he instantly knows where he is. “The orchard,”

“Yes,” Nyxia takes a deep breath in, releasing it quietly. “Come, let’s sit.”

She leads him to a wooden bench down the main aisle in between the trees full of ripe fruit, all looking ready to be harvested and used.

“That place,” He starts once they’ve been seated for a moment, Klaus watching Nyxia’s profile as she basks beneath shadows and night of her own making. “What is it?”

“It has no name,” She informs him, her voice unexpectedly soft.

She’s been so different this entire night, he wonders how long she’s been waiting for someone to just ask her these questions. Every person who’s been close enough to do it has been too scared of what wrath they may face if they did ask her about the oddities of her home, but Klaus did it because he can’t help but push people.

“It has no name, and no one knows of it besides the ones who live there, and myself. Now, you do, too,”

“What is the purpose of it? Why is it only women and children?”

She takes a long moment to think about her words, and he can see the way she struggles to verbalize her thoughts because no one had ever thought to ask her before. “Just because I am darkness does not mean that I can control all that exists in this world. I can’t take away what already exists, no matter how much I wish to. That place is what I call a loophole. I have them hidden all around the world. Because I cannot erase what already exists, I must find a way to work around it. To remove the darkness I wish to see gone without violating the laws of my making.”

“And what exactly have you been working around?”

“Humanity,” She says simply. “With every passing decade, they tear themselves apart more and more. My loopholes exist to take people out of that chaos, of the darkness. Sometimes it’s a hungry child or a bastard,”

Klaus glances away for a moment before forcing his gaze back to hers.

“Sometimes it is a woman that gets sold to the highest bidder. The woman I spoke to, Theresé, was one of the first women I saved from a nearby village. Her husband was an utter brute and had killed his first wife when she had barely seen sixteen name days. Theresé was strong, but there was only so much she could do before the inevitable. So I stepped in and I proposed a hypothetical situation to her, where all she would have to do is make him dinner and serve him wine, and meet me outside of her home later that night.

“I did not think she would do it, but when the moon was high in the sky, I waited outside of her house and barely breathed until she was standing before me in one piece, with tears in her eyes and bruises on her cheek. So I told her who I was and what I wanted to do, and she said she would help me if I continued to save women who had been in her position. So I have. The girls I mentioned, Reya and Liesl. Young girls, friends since childhood. They were married off to the same man, a prince of some second-rate kingdom a few days north that had already gone through 3 wives. They have just found out they’re both pregnant, and fear raising children in the environment they live in.”

Realization dawns on him. “You give them poison. The wine you make,”

She hums in assent and silence falls between them once more, the princess dutifully letting Klaus turn the events of the night over and over in his head, finally slotting pieces together where they’d been misaligned for months.

“Why?” He breathes out, his tone of disbelief earning her attention once more. “Why did you bring me there when you’ve barely spoken to me all these months? When you have known what I am and who my family is, and you knew I was suspicious from the very start, why have you just now shown me the truth?”

Sighing, Nyxia looks down at her hands folded neatly in her lap. “I fear that my honesty is about to get me in trouble for the first time tonight.”

“Just tell me,” He shakes his head pleadingly. “Please.”

“Death consumes your very soul, Klaus,” Her voice takes on a distant tone, one he recognizes more than any fondness or humor she’s shown throughout the night. It’s the way she’d spoken to him since he first arrived, down to that very morning in the throne room, overlooking preparations for their wedding. “It is a fire that burns you from the inside out. And because of that fire, there is a shadow on you. And in that shadow, I exist. I see parts of you that you likely would not share with me, and for good reason.”

Klaus can’t help the way he flinches, shifting away from her on the bench. She looks unsurprised at this particular reaction, but her fingers twitch like she’s going to reach out for him again.

She doesn’t.

“I have known you much longer than you have known me, and for that, I apologize. When you first arrived, I was still hesitant to believe what I had felt, and I– I am much different in the daylight. I am at my weakest when the sun is out, and that has never changed. But– other things have.”

“Your father–”

“He is not my father,” She cuts him off, voice reverting to that cold indifference for a split second. “Once upon a time, he was a man. A king. But he was not a kind man, let alone a kind king. So I took the darkness in his mind, and I collapsed it from within. I made him hollow with it, and now he is but a puppet. A face to put on our currency, so that I may do as I please without so much attention. My people remember the cruel man, and they remember what I did for them. That is why I have their respect. Their loyalty. Trust breeds trust.”

Klaus’s jaw clenches. “And when you decide you’re ready to become Queen one day, and I become a King, will you also make me into a puppet? Will I be nothing but a conduit of political jargon made to distract people from your loopholes?”

Nyxia’s eyes burn, but they are dark. Almost black.

“I did not bring you here to make you a puppet, Niklaus,”

“Then why did you bring me here? Tell me, Nyxia. Tell me the truth.”

“I brought you here because I want to protect you,”

Klaus’s lip curls in a snarl and he stands up, cloak billowing around him. He turns at the feeling of a slight breeze and finds himself looking at the castle from a high distance, and he wonders if he’d been in such shock that he hadn’t noticed their uphill hike, or if this was another one of her tricks.

Clenching his jaw, he turns to look down at her. “I do not need protecting, Princess. I have done nothing but protect myself and my family for hundreds of years.”

“I know that, Klaus,” She spits out, looking as angry as he feels. Both of them are stubborn to a fatal degree. “But I want you to let me do it anyway!”

Klaus lets out a harsh breath through his nose, turning to look away from her as his chest heaves with frustrated breaths. An overwhelming sense of exhaustion practically slaps him in the face as it settles over him and he finds his racing thoughts finally slowing down, seeming to process in his mind after the eventful night.

“I understand that this has all been unexpected,” She starts, voice carefully neutral in the wake of both of their tempers. “And I will not blame you for being upset. But trust me when I say that I have your best interests in heart, for you and your family.”

“I’m to trust you after you’ve shown me only a fraction of the truth?”

Her soft look has shuttered away when he looks at her again. “I told you,” She whispers, voice quiet but certainly not weak with how thick it was around the emotion clenching around her windpipe. “That I was putting all of my trust into you the moment I told you what I am. The danger that I have thrust upon you and myself just by sharing all of this with you is endless. I have bared my soul to you in a single night, Klaus Mikaelson, and then you spit in my face by asking me if I am trustworthy.”

“Nyxia,”

She stands from the bench abruptly, pulling the hood of her cloak back up over her head. “We should go. I don’t want to run into the guards at the shift change.”

“Nyxia, just–”

“We’re leaving,” She cuts him off, not looking back to see if he’s following after her as she stalks off towards the gates she’d opened for him, just for him, moments ago. “Either join me, or find your own way back.”

Klaus pulls his own hood up and is quick to fall into step a few paces behind her because he isn’t nearly stupid enough to think that their easygoing atmosphere from earlier is still lingering. All because he couldn’t stop the traitorous beating of his heart and the way his skin crawled at the thought of entrusting the safety of his family to anyone else.

She is going to be family soon enough, though. If she’ll still have him, that is.

──────

The tension in the castle is thick for a few days before it’s suddenly dampened with something painful.

Rain begins to pour and does not stop for three days straight. Most foot traffic that is in and out of the castle for wedding planning is put on pause at the King’s order. Not worth risking the safety and integrity of any person or thing for one wedding.

Klaus doesn’t see or hear from Nyxia for those three days, and on the fourth day of heavy downpours, of him being stuck in the library with his brother or listening to his sister drone on about a particularly handsome guard, he breaks. He walks the path the sentry had taken him down into the East Wing of the castle and knocks on the thick wooden door, tilting his head just to hear the heart beating faintly on the other side of it. It’s the only reason he even knows she’s alive, and he can’t stop the relief that soothes his nerves.

It doesn’t manage to get rid of the cloud of guilt that’s been hanging above his head since that night in the orchard, nor does it make him want to turn around and leave.

“Princess?” His voice is low, but he knows she’ll hear it if she’s listening. “I was just…”

He trails off, unsure of what excuse to offer up for his impromptu visit. A lie, a half-truth. The whole truth.

It’s the least he could do in return, offer her honesty. Since he threw hers right back in her face four nights ago.

“May I come in, please?”

Silence follows his question, but when he pushes on the door slightly, it creaks open, and he steps through as quickly as possible, not willing to take the chance that it was a fluke. He’s greeted with darkness broken up by dim firelight, and his eyes take a moment to adjust, that concern inside of him chipping away at his pride.

“Princess?” He asks again, voice low in the dim room. His brows twitch on his forehead, pulling together. “Nyxia?”

There’s a shift of fabric from the four-poster bed a few feet in front of him, and he can see the orange glow in the room the moment she turns to face him.

Even in the poor lighting, he can see the sunken shadows of her face and the way the stars in her eyes have gone dull.

“Nyxia?” He nearly gasps her name as he rushes to her bedside, dropping to his knees beside it as he takes in her sickly features. “What’s happened to you?”

She lets out a shaky breath that sounds like it hurts. “Sometimes… sometimes I let them take too much,”

Confusion passes over him momentarily before a realization hits him. “The loopholes… this place… it drains you, doesn’t it?”

She nods where her head is pressed into the pillow.

He lifts a trembling hand to her cheek, brushing invisible dirt off of her cheek. He can feel the clammy sweat tainting her skin, the fever roaring in her veins. How odd it must be to be an immortal creature taken down by something comparable to a cold.

“Why?” He shakes his head, genuine disbelief coating the word as he watches his betrothed wheeze out a few more breaths. “Why do you let them do this? Why do you do this?”

She smiles and there's a tired pull to it, and she leans into his touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “People are so scared of me,” Her voice is impossibly soft, so unfamiliar, and yet he feels that ache in his chest, the desire to hear it more. To hear her more. “They are scared of everything. The least I can do is make my darkness feel safer.”

He thinks it shatters something in him, to hear her grand reasoning behind everything. To hear that underneath that cold exterior, and the soft one, too, the woman before him just wants people to feel safe in her shadows. She wants them to leave behind lives of unhappiness, to not feel fear when the moon rises in the sky and stars hang over their heads. She doesn’t want them to fear the thought of a monster under their bed but rather feel protected by it. By her.

She wants to do that for him. For his family. And he’d practically laughed in her face.

A shame buries itself deep in him, and he finds himself lurching forward slightly, face hovering above hers to keep her attention while she loses her lucidity before his eyes. “What can I do? What can I do to make this better?”

She reaches a hand up from beneath her blankets and rests it atop his. “Stay. Just stay with me, please,”

He nods and holds back more words he’s simply not ready to say yet. Reluctantly leaves her side for a moment to bring a chair to her bedside, and once again intertwine their hands together.

He watches her fall asleep and continues watching her well into the night. It doesn’t feel like a chore, or anything of the sort. He thinks he’d be content to spend a few years of his eternity just sitting here with her.

──────

It takes another four days for Nyxia to be able to get out of bed without feeling weak. In those days she regains a bit of that life back into her eyes, and Klaus is there to see every speck of it grow. He sees the shadows get darker again, not as faded and murky as they seemed to be when she was in the worst of it. It makes him happy in a way that he wouldn’t have ever expected it to.

They spend those four days together in a bubble of their own, with small touches shared between each other. Lingering glances and longing looks are shared from across the dining table while they share meals with his family and the king.

He doesn’t know if all of it means he’s forgiven for his harsh words in the orchard. He doesn’t let himself hope for anything, because he’s not sure if he deserves it after everything.

It’s a particular train of thought he hasn’t let come to fruition for his own sanity. Instead, he’s relished in the freshly budding relationship between him and his wife-to-be. The partnership that’s being created. The friendship.

He finds himself in the library that remains hidden behind one, nondescript door that opens up to high ceilings, and endless bookshelves. The first time she’d taken him to see it, he’d spent the entire evening looking through the books, getting lost in the history books she had in her collection.

As the days go by, he finds himself there more and more, and it seems that Nyxia’s in the same boat.

Hands skimming against the worn spines of the books, Klaus’s mind travels near and far, and he lets his imagination run wild. It’s a rare occurrence, this vulnerability that he’s found within these walls, beneath Nyxia’s care, so he can’t be faulted for being caught off guard when a book slides out from the shelf on the other side and he snaps his gaze up to meet her amused one.

There’s no doubt she misses the slight intake of breath he does at her sudden presence, but she gives him the grace of not saying anything about it out loud. Her face is framed between the two shelves and she grins widely, unabashedly, in the shadows of the books. “Hiding in the art history books again, Niklaus?”

He ducks his head, glancing at the lone book he is holding in his hands, a finger shoved between pages to hold his place while he searches through other titles. Lifting his eyes back up to meet hers once more, he shrugs a shoulder, poorly feigning obliviousness.

“It’s alright, at least I always know where I can find you,” She quickly dismisses his uncharacteristic shyness, and he’s once again grateful for it, even if he’s not sure if she does it for her own sake or his. “I wanted to ask you a question, actually, about the wedding.”

He raises a brow, not hiding his surprise. She rarely brings the wedding up to him these days, and with the celebration in just five days, the castle staff was bustling about more than ever. Klaus only ever looked at the gold and white decor lining the throne room in passing, usually hurrying through to track Nyxia down somewhere in the castle, or dodging his brother’s increasingly personal questions about the state of his relationship with the Princess.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking about the wedding, despite Nyxia rarely saying anything to him about it. He found himself wondering just how the day would transpire as it drew closer, wondered how all of the fittings he did for his garments a while back would look like in the end, and wondered endlessly about just what Nyxia would be walking down the aisle in.

“It’s about the guest list,”

Her voice pulls him from the frequent thought and he bites the tip of his tongue in silent reprimand. Clearing his throat quietly, he looked at her. “What of it? I thought invitations were sent out months ago,”

“They were,” She confirms, nodding once. Her voice takes on a hint of that diplomatic lilt she likes to pull out of thin air with him when she feels she’s approaching a difficult subject. It instantly puts his nerves on edge, but he tries not to get defensive. If there’s anything he’s learned with her, it’s that he’ll do nothing but regret his knee-jerk reaction to bare his teeth and snarl at the first feeling of danger coming his way. He knows just as well that Nyxia would never put him in danger on purpose.

“I was just wondering if there was anyone you wanted to invite,” She continued, glancing away from him. “I know Rebekah and Elijah will be there, of course, but is there anyone else you want to come?”

He’s quick to respond, barely even thinking about it. “I’ve become familiar enough with your subjects that they’re plenty for me, I think. Especially the women coming from the loophole. I’m looking forward to seeing them,”

Her face softens with an endless fondness he’s not quite sure what to do with. Any time she offers it up to him, he does his best to just hold it gently in between them, like it was a cloud threatening to seep through his fingers and dissipate into nothingness.

“I am as well,” She smiles briefly before her face falls back into a placating look. “But you’re sure you don’t have any friends you might not have thought of? Or any more family? I’m sure you’ve… outlived… most of your ancestors, but perhaps there’s a distant cousin that was never turned? Or your… your parents, perhaps?”

Klaus instantly realizes the true nature of her question, and once again has to fight off the urge to snap at her and make her go away. It’s an easier path to take than explaining just why his parents won’t be in attendance at their wedding or part of their futures at all, and why he wouldn’t want them to in the first place, but he finds himself wanting to try. It’s the least he could do for her.

“No, my– my parents are no longer– an option,” He says carefully, brows furrowing as he revisits centuries-old aches and stabs of pain laced with a childish hurt. “I wouldn’t want them here even if they were.”

Her face twists with concern before she disappears from the side of the shelf, and Klaus’s eyes widen momentarily before he hears the click of her shoes growing closer. She rounds the corner of the bookshelf swiftly, coming to stand before him with a practiced look of understanding on her face meant to convey her state of heeding.

“You know by now that I’m a bastard,” She nods. “Even though my father was already unhappy with how I came about, it worsened when he learned my father was the leader of the werewolf pack in our village. I wasn’t just a bastard, but a monster, then, too. I faced abuse from my father my entire life, and my mother always let it happen, or encouraged it, if only to save herself from facing his wrath for her own mistakes.”

Silently, she reaches out and grabs the book from his hand, setting it flat on the shelf in favor of grabbing his hands in hers.

“When my youngest brother Henrik was killed by the pack my true father was a part of, my mother was overcome with the grief of losing a child and that’s when she turned us. When she made the spell to make us into these undying creatures who survive off of blood. She and Mikael killed us all and we were forced to transition when we woke.”

Squeezing his hands, Nyxia shakes her head. “You don’t have to go on, Klaus.”

He shakes his head, waving off her apology. “It’s alright. I want you to know the truth,” Her already soft face opens more and she takes another minute step towards him, closing the distance between them a bit more. “With everything heightened after my transition, I was so overcome with my anger that I lost control and I– I killed her. I killed my mother.”

“Nik,”

“I regretted it as soon as I did it. And I buried her body where no one would find it, and I told my family that she was killed by our father. Because in my head, she was. She let him abuse me, she let him turn even a fraction of that hatred onto Rebekah and Elijah, and the rest of them, and I– I truly hated her for it. What good of a mother was she if she could just watch that happen to her children?”

He clenches his jaw and tilts his head slightly, biting down the bitterness that still swims in his veins all these years later. “Mikael knew what I did, though. I don’t know how, but he always knew. And I– I don’t know what’s happened to him, I don’t know if he’s dead or alive, like us or something else, but I– I do not want him here. I wouldn’t want him here, no matter the situation. I never want someone like Mikael to find this place, because a single touch from him would destroy it all.”

Nyxia shakes her head immediately, eyes wide and full of something that transcends simple fondness. “He wouldn’t, Niklaus. I wouldn’t let him ruin it. This is my home– this is our home. I won’t let him ruin it for you.”

Klaus wished he could believe her. And he knows she knows that. And he knows they both know it’s truly got nothing to do with her, and everything to do with the fact that his father has ruined his life at every turn since the day he was born. It’s just what he does. He could so easily take this beautiful thing Klaus has been given and tarnish it with a single touch.

“I had to inherit these shadows, you know?” She says suddenly, taking him off guard. “I wasn’t born with them, not really. I was born with power, I was made of this power. But in order to have them at the capacity at which they exist now, I had to wait for my mother to die. She was my best friend. But I think that made it all the worse when I had to watch her wither away through each century, until one day, she became nothing more than the night sky we came from. Afterward, I was so overcome with grief that I didn’t even acknowledge the shadows. I wanted no part of it, not without her,”

She huffs out a small, wry laugh and shakes her head. “But they are very stubborn. They persisted, and one day, they brought me into the shadows and showed me the light that exists within them. And after that day, I started doing things differently. It’s been a long time since then, but I still remember all of those feelings like it was yesterday. And I know that because you have been given the gift and the curse of eternity just as I have, that you understand it like no one else does. So you must believe me when I say this, husband, but it will not be like this forever. And I am making you a promise now that your– that Mikael will not ever make his mark in my kingdom. You and I will live in peace for the rest of our days, with our people and no one can take that from us. Do you hear me? Do you hear me, Niklaus?”

He nods, clenching his teeth together as he swallows around the concrete lump in his throat. “Of course. Of course I do,”

“Good,” She nods once. “You can trust me. I swear it on my life.”

He nods again and she offers him a small smile, like she’s wary to shift the graveness that had settled over them into something else. He jostles their conjoined hands, and her eyebrows tick together, silently coaxing his words out.

“How did you do it?” He asks quietly. “How did you find the light when you were surrounded by the darkness?”

Her eyes suddenly burned with ferocity, an ancient thing that had roots buried deep inside of her. A small fraction of her power. “I carved it out of the shadows with my bare hands and I did not stop until my fingers bled. Until my nails were cracked and my body screamed for me to stop. And I would do it again if it meant I kept you and your family safe. Understand that, Klaus. If nothing else, understand that I’ll bleed for you.”

Klaus isn’t sure what to do in the face of her devotion. He feels as if it should be the other way around– him worshiping her, instead of this blood-promise she’s made to him. He isn’t sure what to do or say, but he is sure of one thing; he loves her. And he would bleed for her just as well.

──────

The morning of their wedding, a low hum of activity overtakes the calm of the castle and does not falter, well into the early hours of afternoon. Klaus was summoned from his rooms just minutes after the sun was up and brought to the seamstresses that he’d seen increasingly over the months and put into the intricate suit made specifically for him.

His trousers were plain, simple, and tucked carefully into shoes that almost felt like armor. His surcoat was donned with intricate, weaving lines of gold that gleamed in the sunlight, woven into the fabric like they were the very veins in his body. Like it was a showcase of the life that flowed through him, scorching like the sun for all eternity. When he was draped with a mantle of white fur and more golden details along the draped fabric, he looked in the lone mirror before him and felt, for the first time, that he was truly a king. And just after that thought, he couldn’t help but wonder what his queen looked like.

When he is escorted to the throne room, he can hear the dozens of heartbeats waiting on the other side of the doors before him and he only has a moment to breathe before the doors are swung open and the guests are standing, turning to face him.

His blue eyes immediately shoot to the front of the room, where the king awaits his presence at the end of the aisle, where his brother and sister stand on either side of the large arbor, looking at him with an odd pride gleaming in their eyes.

Bracing himself, he lifts his chin slightly and walks forward, his hands clasped in front of him as he meets the eyes of strangers, all watching him like they’re waiting for him to show his true colors. When he nears the end of the aisle, he looks over to his left and sees Theresé standing there, with a row of familiar faces lined up beside her, and he can’t stop the small twitch of his lips when she meets his gaze head-on with a smile that radiates pure excitement.

He tears his gaze away from the women and children of the loophole and meets the king’s eyes, exchanging a nod with the man as he takes his place at the center of the room. He turns his head towards the doors he’d come through moments ago, and finds himself holding his breath as he waits for them to open once more, and reveal his bride.

He prepares himself for the sight of her, but when the doors swing open, guards standing on either side of her, he thinks himself a fool for ever thinking he’d be prepared for the sight of her dressed in a white gown that trails behind her in a sea of golden embroidery that gleams just as his does. Like the life that burns in him also burns in her, despite the way her shadows carve out the angles of her face, the bridge of her nose.

He knew her dress would compliment him, of course, but he hadn’t anticipated just how much it would take his breath away, to see himself standing before a kingdom, waiting for her slow, graceful steps to come to a stop as she neared him.

Her own fur-lined mantle was just as carefully draped over her, and it went down the length of her train, the fabric moving along with her as if it were just water rippling along rocks. Slow, elegant, natural. Like she was born to be this.

For the first time, her arms are bare before him, and the skin below her jaw is as well. Her unexpected bareness exposes things he hadn’t known were hiding beneath her long sleeves and high collars. The shadows that run in her blood wrap around her arms, weaving like vines up across her chest and down into unknown territory, still hidden from his sight and touch. He swallows roughly at the sight of the image she creates before him, her head tilted back ever so slightly just to maintain his gaze as she steps up before him, her hands immediately reaching to lay in his proffered palms.

He can’t find his voice in time to tell her that she looks beautiful. To make vows to her before they’ve even started.

The king clears his throat quietly, raising his hand in a silent gesture that has the guests taking their seats once more.

“People of Riverend, we gather here to witness the joining of two souls. To celebrate a love that withstands life, death, and everything in between. A love forged in shadows and cradled by the moon, that blossoms beneath the sun. It is my honor to stand before you all and mark the start of our future here in these cherished lands beneath their incoming rule.”

The king shifts, turning slightly to look at Klaus directly. “Lord Mikaelson, repeat after me: I offer my soul to you in exchange for yours, and vow to love and cherish you long after we return to the stars,”

Klaus swallows and wets his lips, meeting Nyxia’s gleaming eyes. “I offer my soul to you in exchange for yours,” His voice trembles slightly, and her fingers press into his wrist, squeezing reassuringly. “And vow to love and cherish you long after we return to the stars.”

Nyxia mirrors his swallow, seemingly biting back her own emotion. “I offer my soul to you in exchange for yours,” Her pulse stutters beneath his fingertips, and his blood burns with it. “And vow to love and cherish you long after we return to the stars.”

“As witnessed by your people, do you both promise to serve them to the best of your abilities? To bleed with them, or for them, shall it one day be necessary? To feed and clothe them, and wash the dirt off of their feet, should they ever ask you to?”

They both nod once. “We do,”

The King mirrors their nod and continues. “May this marriage be protected by the powers that be. May it never bend or break, or waver in even the strongest of storms. May you both know one another’s love like no other. May the darkness protect you as it has protected others since the dawn of time,”

The king takes in a short breath and shifts, holding his hands up for his palms to face the sunlight gleaming in through the stained glass windows. “By the power entrusted unto me, I bless this marriage for the years to come. I now pronounce you husband and wife. Lord Mikaelson, you may kiss–”

“Stop this nonsense!”

Gasps echo throughout the throne room and Klaus’s blood freezes as his head snaps over, his gaze locking onto his father’s immediately.

The man at the end of the aisle takes a step forward, a mean smirk on his face. “Is it not utter blasphemy to make a king out of a bastard?”

Klaus breathes out a breath that shudders in his lungs painfully, and he looks past Nyxia to find Rebekah standing frozen in her place, tears bubbling in her eyes at the sight of Mikael. He doesn’t need to look at Elijah to know that the man is likely boiling with barely stifled rage.

Mikael takes another step forward and Klaus flinches back instinctively, despite the distance that stretches between them.

The man laughs at the sight, and Klaus finally looks at Nyxia, only to find her glaring at his father like her very gaze could burn him into ash.

“You have no business being here, Mikael,” Elijah’s voice bites out the words from behind him and he hears his brother take a step down, quick to be a buffer between him and Klaus. “Leave now, and you will not face any consequences.”

Mikael laughs again. “And from whom would these consequences be dealt? You? Or perhaps Rebekah?” The girl flinches, tears skittering down her flushed cheeks at his ridicule. “Certainly not Klaus. He’s not capable of it.”

“It will be me,” Nyxia’s voice rings out, firm and cold in a way that Klaus hasn’t heard it before, not even in their worst moments. “You will not speak of my husband in that manner. I’ll have your head for treason if you’re not careful.”

“You’d take my head for him?” Mikael’s brows raise like he’s actually surprised at the prospect. “I hate to break it to you, girl, but he is nothing. He comes from no high standing, he has no riches and nothing to give you in exchange for all that you give him. Whatever he has told you in those regards is a filthy lie. That’s all he is– a liar.”

Hot tears burn at the back of Klaus’s eyes and he struggles to find his voice again.

Nyxia drops his hands and Klaus fronts at the loss of her touch, only to reach for her as she turns and steps towards Mikael, unwavering beneath his hateful glare. “Don’t,” He gets out, pulling her back by her arm. “Do not go near him.”

She wrenches her arm from his hold, looking at him apologetically before she hardens her gaze once more and faces his father. “You come to my kingdom and interrupt my wedding to spew nonsense. You have the looks of a crazed man, Mikael. I should have my sentries imprison you until I find it worth my time to sentence you.”

He grins like her words are a challenge. “I’d like to see you try, Princess,” He spits her title out and before anyone can blink, he holds the tip of a dagger beneath her chin.

Gasps of fear ring out through the room and Klaus stumbles forward, stopped only by Elijah holding him just out of their father’s reach. “Do not touch her!” He growls out the words, black veins crawling beneath his eyes, earning a mocking chuckle from the man.

“Don’t tell me you actually love her, Niklaus,”

Klaus says nothing, which is answer enough, and it earns another round of derisive laughter from the man.

“What a ridiculous thing, love,” He tsks his tongue, shaking his head as if scolding his bastard son. “Nothing but a weakness to someone like you who is already softened by his childish emotions. It’s nice to know that you’re still such a disappointment, Niklaus.”

Klaus lunges for the man but is once again stopped by his brother.

“Klaus,” It’s Nyxia who says his name, which calms the racing of his heart in his ears, and he looks at her desperately. “Do you trust me?”

His brows furrow deeply, lines twisting onto his pale skin. “What?”

She gives him another look that conveys an apology he doesn’t need, and he feels his stomach swoop with fear.

“Nyx,” He breathes out, eyes wide as he starts to shake his head.

She rolls her eyes away from him like it pains her to do so, and looks to his father, uncaring of the tip of the dagger digging into her chin. “I told you I would bleed for you, Klaus. And I shall.”

She takes one long step forward and latches her hand around the handle of the dagger and digs her nails into Mikael’s skin, earning a grunt of annoyance from the man. In the blink of an eye, a cloud of black consumes them, and the last thing Nyxia hears is Klaus’s yell for her to stop.

Her hold on Mikael falters and they fall away from each other, thrown into shadows and thrown apart in the same breath.

It’s been centuries since she’s been here. Encased in nothingness, something that cannot even be considered night because it is so dark it does nothing but swallow the life that enters it.

She hears Mikael’s breathing through the darkness and hears him struggle to find footing as she does the same.

“You,” She speaks out, voice echoing into the void. Swarming around them like a crow’s call. “You have tarnished his soul. You are the darkness that exists inside of him, and I am going to rip every inch of life out of you even if it kills me.”

“Such meaningful threats,” The man speaks back, voice tinged in that smugness that sets her nerves alight with rage. “To think that you have fallen in love with a man like Niklaus. You could have such potential if you weren’t clinging to frivolous emotions.”

“You underestimate me, Mikael. You mock me, even now, when you are surrounded by something that does not exist without me and my power. It is your arrogance that will kill you, and I will offer your heart on a platter to my husband as a wedding gift.”

She lunges for the sound of him in the void, grunting as they blindly swing for each other, slamming fists and swinging daggers over and over with no sign of stopping.

She doesn’t know how long she was in this place the last time. Doesn’t know how long they’ve been here now. It could be mere seconds, it could be years. Nothing exists in this place, especially not time.

Blood from a cut that is already healed trails down her cheek, she can feel the wetness as she brushes her fingers along her skin. She can hear Mikael’s ragged breaths, her endless onslaught of pain catching up to him.

“He’s an abomination,” Mikael spits out. “Not just in name, but as a creature. It is not enough that he has no soul as this undead thing, but he has that mutt inside of him, waiting to be unleashed. He doesn’t deserve to live.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” She bites back, lips curling in a snarl. “But I do. And he will live with me until the Earth takes its last breath. And you will never take anything from him again, so long as I am at his side. You will never hurt your children again. I am taking back the darkness that is inside of you. I am taking the very air from your lungs,”

She tackles him blindly, knees pinning him down as she presses her hands roughly down onto his chest, her fingertips itching with heat as she does exactly that. “You will know pain like you’ve never known before where you are going. And with everything in me, I swear that I will not let there be a day that goes by that you do not suffer.”

The shadows that warm her skin crawl as she takes his life little by little, and she can feel his breaths begin to shallow with every word she speaks.

“Let your last thought on this Earth be the knowledge that I love your son, Mikael. And not even you can take that from him.”

A scream tears from her throat as she lifts her hands off of his chest and slams them back down, his body disappearing beneath her as if it had never existed. A burst of energy explodes from her and she nearly falls onto her face, catching herself on her hands and knees as it blows around her like a gust of wind.

She grits her teeth, trying to catch her breath as the void grows smaller around her, trying to swallow her whole as it had Mikael. But she had let it have Mikael. She would not let it have her. Not when she had something to go back to. Someone.

“No,” She bites out, jaw clenched tight enough that her bones creak. “You will let me go back.”

She digs her nails into the nothingness beneath her hands, skin scraping off at the fight it puts back. She lifts her hands from the void and brings them back down, clawing at it like a rabid animal.

“Let me out,” She says. Demands. “Let me out!”

Her voice echoes on a yell and she feels a scream build deep in her chest as she clenches her hands into fists and brings them down onto the ground, and she can feel it begin to crack beneath her force.

The ache in her hands grows with each hit but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, not even as the first cracks of light bleed through.

With just that sliver of light, she can see the broken skin of her hands and it’s such a guttural reminder of her past that she raises her hands once more and brings them down onto the shattering void with a strength she did not know she possessed.

All at once she is thrown out of the darkness and she flinches at the burst of brightness that encases her so suddenly. The sound of startled gasps and fearful noises makes her stumble and she tries and subsequently fails to get to her feet, her bloodied hands smearing along the pristine white aisle she had walked down.

Arms encase her and she turns her head to meet Klaus’s gaze as he pulls her into his chest, eyes wide in fear at the sight of her blood, no doubt mixed with some of Mikael’s that likely splattered onto her at some point in their tussle.

“Where did you go? What did you do?” He breathes out, eyes brimming with tears. “Where is Mikael?”

She lets out a shuddering noise as she clings to him, staining his surcoat with blood. “I took it back,” She grits her teeth, fire burning in her eyes for a split second before her exhaustion wipes it out. “I took my darkness back from him, and I turned him into nothing.”

Klaus makes a noise of grief that she knows is not for his father, but for the thought of her doing something he knows weakens her.

“I’m alright,” She assures him, finally looking past him at her kingdom that watches on warily. “I’m alright, I promise.”

Klaus holds onto her tighter like he’s scared she’ll disappear again, and she lets him as exhaustion weighs her down.

She smiles suddenly, breathless and hopeful. “We aren’t finished here,” Her eyes shift to the king, who hurries towards them, kneeling slightly. “We were interrupted.”

Klaus mirrors her smile, much more reserved even as his fear dissolves. “We were, weren’t we?”

“Finish it,” She looks up at the king from her place in Klaus’s lap in the aisle. “Please, finish it.”

The king barely takes a moment before he lets his voice carry like he had before, unwavering as if nothing had happened at all. “Without further ado, Lord Mikaelson, you may kiss your bride.”

Klaus barely lets him finish speaking before he kisses her, stealing the breath from her lungs as she gasps into it. Starlight burns in her and she raises her hand to gently cup his cheek, pulling him into her for one hard press of their lips before she pulls away, letting her hand fall from his cheek to rest against his heart.

She turns her face into his neck and whispers into his skin, her breath making goosebumps grow in its wake. “My name,” She says. “I want you to have it.”

He echoes it back to her softly, like he’s cradling it in his hands, and she looks up at him with stars in her eyes.

The king speaks from above them, an excitement laced in his voice as he lifts his hands above his hand. “It is my honor to introduce to you for the first time, the Prince and Princess of Riverend!”

Cheers burst around them, and Klaus dips his head down to hide his smile in her hair, and she clings to him just a bit tighter, her eyes fluttering.

“Let us celebrate!” The king exclaims, another round of cheers echoing after his words.

She pulls back slightly to look at Klaus, smiling. “I love you, Klaus,”

He lets out a breath like she’s knocked it out of him. “I love you,” He hesitates before saying her name like he’s worried she’ll take it back from him. “I'll love you until the end of time. Never doubt that."

"I won't."

#klaus mikaelson #the vampire diaries #elijah mikaelson #the vampire diaries fanfiction #rebekah mikaelson #the originals #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson angst #stefan salvatore #damon salvatore #kol mikaelson

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what-have-i-unleashed · 2 months ago

Text

a happy life

1500 words of fic i wrote in one sitting because i'm feeling silly (and i'm procrastinating on my wips damn). about something new chara and killer. inspired by that scene in csm iykyk :3

(warning: angst, non-graphic violence, minor character death, abusive relationship)

for @howlsofbloodhounds because you've been on a roll with chara and killer lately lol. this is partly your fault.

How long has it been? Fifty? Seventy? Or maybe even two hundred Resets? And Chara still isn’t done with this world yet, it seems. This timeline, they want to see how the goat monster would react knowing her human child is still alive, then they would break her heart later on as some kind of sick justice. And so, Chara has been staying in the Ruins for weeks, leaving him directionless in the snow.

Flowey is nowhere to be found. Maybe that little weasel of a creature has caught up to something (not that it will matter anyway), or maybe Chara has dealt with him. It’s hard to know, not with how difficult thinking is lately. It’s like moving against the raging currents, every wave only making him more disoriented than the last.

Sans- no, Killer has been waiting for them in front of the door to the Ruins ever since the last Reset. There have been a few close calls where some monsters spotted him. But he remembers Chara’s words and stays away from them. The sentry dogs would chase him down and play with his bones mercilessly. The kid monsters would throw snowballs with rocks hidden inside at him. The other town residents would close their doors on him, leaving him freezing in the cold. Nothing good to come from them.

(“The world is a cruel place, Sansy,” Chara tells him as they rake their fingers through his broken bones. “They wouldn’t understand creatures like us – so far above monsters and humans it’s hilarious to know how close-minded the rest can be.”

The dead human child wraps their arms around his torso, snuggling their face into his oversize jacket. Their body is cold. They laugh, a broken melody. “I’m so glad I have you. I don’t need anyone else.” Their hug turns constricting, like a snake catching its prey. “You don’t need anyone else.”)

He must have dozed off from exhaustion because the next thing he knows is that very familiar rosy-cheeked face looking down at him with mirth.

“Killz, have you been waiting for me?” They smile beatifically, patting his head. “What a good friend you are.”

Killer turns to answer, but he feels numb all over. His body is heavy, and the warmth he could feel from his meager clothing is barely any at all. He can only manage to nod his head weakly. Chara laughs.

“Look at all that snow! How long have you been sitting by that door, you silly skeleton?”

They grab his arms and pull him up into a crushing hug again. If Killer was not already freezing, he would turn into a rock by how stiff his shoulders are. He forces his body to relax, to absorb every bit of warmth he can have from Chara.

“I miss you,” they murmur into his ribs, a soft cooing sound. They both stay like that for a few minutes before Killer can feel his legs working again.

Once he can stand and not trip over his feet like a clumsy Whimsun, Chara takes his hand and drags him forward to the town.

“I have a new game this time,” they cheer. “This time, let’s have you handle the EXP alone, okay?”

Killer can do nothing but nod. When Chara orders him to kill the dog couple, he does it. When they gesture him to attack the big guard dog, he complies. When they click their tongue at the jokes the feathered kid monster makes, he moves to silence them.

When the dust accumulates on the knife that Chara has gifted him, Killer feels more grounded than ever. The monsters are nothing compared to his friend – all their words and screams and pleads are white noise to his ears. Chara demands a piggy-back from him, and he drops to his knees without question. They trudge slowly forward to the deadly silent town, with Chara wrapping their arms tightly around Killer’s neck, their weight an oppressive force.

“Looks like everyone has been evacuated early, don’t you think?” Chara hums. “Oh, you can let me down now. I’m not tired anymore.”

Killer carefully puts the child down, mindful of the drop. Chara makes a beeline to the house on the near end of the town. A very familiar house, Killer’s mind unhelpfully chimes.

And a very familiar face standing just outside the house. A lanky skeleton monster in a ridiculous battle armor, his scarf billowing in the wind.

“SANS?” the skeleton exclaims. “WHAT ARE YOU- WHERE WERE YOU THIS WHOLE TIME?”

“So, you didn’t seek anyone out,” his friend besides him says. “I know I can count on you.”

“STRANGE-LOOKING MONSTER, THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS GRATEFUL FOR YOU FINDING MY BROTHER! ARE YOU BY ANY CHANCE ANOTHER OF HIS FRIENDS?”

“Well yes!” Chara beams. “Sansy here is my best friend, really! We go a long way back.”

“WOWIE! BROTHER, WHY HAVEN’T YOU INTRODUCED ME TO YOUR STRANGE-LOOKING FRIEND? WE COULD HAVE BEEN BESTIES!”

“I mostly live in the Ruins. Though I bet Sans would kill to let us meet one day,” Chara turns to Killer, their smile wide, “don’t you, Sans?”

Imperative received, Killer rushes in to attack the monster. His opponent lets out a surprised yelp before throwing up an impressive shield out of bones. Undeterred, Killer starts to hack away at the construct, his determination spiralling inside his SOUL. When the barrier breaks, Killer tackles the monster to the ground. They roll in the ground, as Killer doesn’t expect his opponent to be so physically strong. In the end, he grabs the pristine white SOUL with blue magic and throws the other across the field. He summons a couple of cyan bones to pin the monster down while he crawls over him, his knife poised perfectly at the gravity-lead SOUL.

“STOP! SANS! BROTHER, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” the monster exclaims, sounding as if in distress. Something in Killer’s mangled SOUL stutters, as he unconsciously lowers in his weapon. The more he looks at the other skeletal face, the louder the voices in the back of his skull are. Something’s wrong something’s wrong something-

“Disappointing. So you cannot do it.”

Sans startles upon realizing how close Chara is. They’re standing, looming over both him and the skeleton monster. The expression on their face is indescribable, but Killer senses a tingling of fear running down his back.

“C-Chara,” he struggles to speak, his voice rough after so many weeks. “I can’t- I can’t-”

“Shut up.”

Sans clenches his jaw. Chara leans down and holds his hand holding the knife. They look at him straight in the eye sockets, unblinking, as they guide him into stabbing into the monster’s SOUL. The SOUL shatters immediately. Sans holds his eye contact with Chara in nervousness, even as the skeleton monster dusts under him, the dust getting all over his shirt and jacket.

In the oppressive silence that follows, neither of them moves or breathes. Chara’s hand holding his knife-hand is still bruisingly constrictive. Finally, they release their grip on his hand, only to grasp at his SOUL instead. Sans gasped, not expecting such a broiling mix of anger from Chara’s intent.

“You can’t do it because you’re not Killer.”

Sans grabs at Chara’s arms, his fingers digging into their flesh and drawing blood. Nevertheless, Chara’s hold on his SOUL doesn’t relent. They violently and abruptly pull his SOUL out of his body, their other hand resting on the back of his neck as they let him rest his head on their laps.

“Killer… doesn’t defy me.”

They stare down at him, a look of apathy in their dark eyes.

“Killer doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t think twice before murder. Every action he makes, he does it for me.”

Squeeze. Pain. Hurt. No no no-

“He does it because he loves me. As his best friend. As his partner. As his creator.”

Their shadowed face illuminated by the red light from his SOUL.

“I don’t know why you’re still here. If you’re going to get in our way… then die.”

The wind howls. Chara sits in the aftermath, cradling the spinning SOUL in their hands.

The body is unmoving. There’s no sign of it getting up any time soon.

“Hey Killer…” they hold the SOUL to their eye level. “Are you there?”

The SOUL pulses. The dead child smiles.

“It’s okay. The comedian is defeated. Now you belong to me.”

Maybe they should redo this all over. This timeline is a bust. There’s nothing to show Killer here. Everything is so monotonous without him.

“We’ll be together forever, right?” Chara gently pulls the SOUL closer to their empty cold chest. “Let’s play our games together, watch silly cartoons together, and annoy Asriel together. Let’s live a happy life forever, okay?”

Only silence greets them. And yet, they feel hopeful.

#i put killer through the wringer: the fic #i write #killer sans #something new chara #something new au #undertale au #utmv #cw abuse

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popjunkie42 · 3 months ago

Text

Chains Chapter Three

Read on AO3

Summary:

Lucien steals Feyre away from the safety of the Night Court as she and Rhys train in the Illyrian Steppes. Winnowing her to the Spring Court and Tamlin, Feyre must contend with the consequences of leaving while held against her will.

An ACOMAF Chapter 47 divergence.

Chapter Three: Your Sharp and Glorious Thorn

Feyre faces her fate alone, locked in a bedroom in the Spring Court.

Love to @witch-and-her-witcher and @foundress0fnothing for reading this chapter twice 😅 Sometimes I am needy.

Thank you all for the comments and great response to this story! I think you might love this chapter. I hope you do. The pressure is real...

Read the beginning of Chapter Three under the cut:

From the corner of the room, I watched the soft colors of dusk deepen into night between the snarled branches of a rose bush.

My bedroom in Spring had been destroyed. Furniture shattered to splinters, the carpet torn by clawed hands, the wide door to the balcony ripped free.

Two sentries had led me here from the dining room. Eyes averted, hands respectful but firm on my shoulders, urging me forward. Did they remember me, I wondered? What did they think of the former lady of the house now reduced to a prisoner?

Or perhaps I was wrong, perhaps my treatment was nothing unusual in Spring, in Prythian…the thought made me feel even more alone, my well of anger chained within me like my hands.

I had stopped in the doorway, my ragged mind taking a moment to catch up, to take in the evidence of violence, so strong I felt it like a mark on my skin.

The window no longer had a view of the hedged gardens, but was replaced with the dark and twining black branches of a rose tree - its flowers blood red, the largest branches as thick as my wrist. Growing so close only pinpricks of light came through, dappling over the room.

“Not here.”

I jumped at the voice behind me. Hadn’t even heard him approach - had been relying too much on my fae powers once again.

Tamlin’s broad shoulders were hunched. He looked…exhausted. But he didn’t look at me as he tilted his head, motioning for me to follow.

Probably for the best. He would find no sympathy from me. I hoped he did feel wretched and regretful. Hope it haunted him all night and kept him from sleep.

I wondered for a moment if I had ever made his life easier, better. Did he sometimes remember the regret he had in tearing down my cabin door and bringing me to his court?

The sentries lingered as the High Lord opened the bedroom down the hall. A clean room, a mirror to the old one, gold and sage and plush white. As if the room beside me wasn’t the perfect portrait of the blood-stained brutality that was soaked deep in the soil, that fed the grass and hedges.

But one thing was the same. The window, any light was nearly blotted out by the thick rose bushes growing outside. It was a wonder I didn’t see it from the outside, when I first arrived, this sharp monstrosity taking over the grounds.

Tamlin paused, swallowing as if the words were stuck in his throat. “Everything will be alright,” he said finally before closing the door.

I didn’t know if he was talking to me or himself.

With the snick of the heavy door locked shut, suddenly it was so, so quiet.

Something staggering was building inside me - not my familiar magic but something…devastating. Hot and cold battling in surges on my skin, inside me, panic choked like a strangled scream.

Before it could burst, I ran to the windows and threw them open, my shaking hands struggling with the latches. My fingers pulled and scraped at the cage of bark and thorns. But even when I managed to snap off a small branch, it bled milky white and acidic onto my fingers, a new twig of bark already growing to take its place.

When my hand slipped and a thorn the size of my thumb impaled into my palm, I collapsed into the corner into a gentle shadow. My hand gushed blood for far too long. I forgot that with my fae healing gone, even small hurts could overtake a body. I squeezed it until the worst of it stopped, still dripping onto the pristine white carpet beside me.

I didn’t know how long I was there, collapsed in the dark.

The blue chains around my ankles and wrists seared and scorched in an endless cycle, the pain radiating down my bones and through my spine, settling in a sharp headache at the base of my skull.

All the fear, anger and despair roiled within me under the pain. Even the scents of the room felt sickly, wrong. Suffocating. No breeze from the choked windows, a locked door at my side.

I remembered the feeling well. Here in the manor, smothered in the smell of flowers, but also –

The putrid damp of filthy water. A crunch of hay under me. The hours I spent walking in circles, fingers brushing up against jagged cold stone until they were raw…

I shook my head to try and dispel the memories. I was not underground. I was not Under the Mountain. I was not in a cold and dank cell reeking of vomit. I was in a room with a bed and the sounds of birds in the trees and I would be let out tomorrow.

I was going to get out. I was going to get out.

Groaning in frustration, I jumped in shock from pain as I ran my hands through my hair and the shackles seared against the skin on my forehead. If I could just focus, just calm for a moment, I could ride through the pain, get control of myself enough to think this through. But I couldn’t find a foothold between pain and panic, and so I passed untold hours longing for relief.

Twilight had fallen with barely a notice, darkness creeping in between the small spaces left between the trunk of the rose bush. Only a single candle was lit on a small windowsill. But I didn’t mind. I let the darkness soothe me, hide me, propped against the green wallpaper, wishing for sleep to wash over me.

I was no closer to sleep when a soft knock on the door and the click of the lock announced a sentry bringing me food and tea and water. I didn’t think I could choke down the rich courtly fare, but I chugged the water desperately. Searched the platter - no cutlery.

I settled back down with a cup of tea, soothing in my hands, and scanned the room.

A litany of fears had been marching through my mind, whipping my heart rate higher and higher. What if these stones, these chains, weren’t just hiding my power but taking it? What if they took them off me tomorrow and I was drained dry like an empty well? Was that Tamlin’s greatest wish - that I no longer risk his Court and unwanted attention by others? What if my powers would be no use to me in escaping this place?

I had been selfishly, shamelessly waiting to hear him - the crack of an angry winnow, the thunderclap of pounding wings, the unmistakable power of star-kissed night.

I finished the last sip of tea with a sigh, sugar at the bottom of the cup filling my mouth with overwhelming sweetness.

But what happened then, if he did come? What if he descended on Tamlin with an army of Illyrian warriors wreathed in darkness? What if he turned this manor to rubble and word went out across Prythian about yet another act of violence and wrath by the dark lord?

Perhaps I was worrying about the wrong things. As twilight turned to midnight, and the only sounds were the shuffling of sentries and a nightingale in the gardens, I felt a dreadful numbness steal over me. I couldn’t sleep, but I closed my eyes and listened.

Rhys wasn’t here.

Why wasn’t he here?

I knew he could winnow here, believed he could unravel Tamlin’s wards with a flick of his wrist.

It was silly of me, selfish to think – I had to be realistic –

Maybe Amren was advising him right now. Be cautious. Don’t start a war. Don’t burst into enemy Courts and start destroying things because then how would they respond in turn?

I was, after all, just an emissary. Most likely a poor one at that. A bumbling child that he had taken some pity on and kept around for our own mutual interests.

Reality hit me cold and harsh. I shut my eyes to it, grit my teeth. A deep, biting chill poured through my bones. The cold so deep I thought it might freeze and break me apart.

I had just thought, maybe this time – maybe somebody would come for me. Remembered how strange it had felt when Mor had lifted me in her arms like a child. How I had woken up to the dawn and mountains - upset and confused and numb, but also, safe.

I steeled myself against the panic, the self-pity.

When had I come to rely on him so much? That his absence felt unnatural, unnerving?

Whether he was coming or not, I couldn’t stay here. I would have to do it myself. Just as I had always done, before I met him and before I even came to Prythian. Staying here was against the question - not with my powers sapped, with the measures they had taken to hobble me.

I drew a deep breath into my lungs. I called upon whatever reserves of strength I had left. The last mile in the woods before turning in for the night, hungry and desperate. My body shivered at the quaking pain against my skin. I stood up to take in the room.

If I worked on the rose tree, I couldn’t open a space large enough to get out but I could take a branch for a weapon. Maybe I would fashion daggers out of thorns, maybe I’d save the milky burning sap for whoever opened my door next.

A weapon, a snare, a distraction. I knew from experience that none of it would matter without my powers. I wouldn’t get past the front gates.

Blue stone pressed against the pale bruised skin of my wrists. A tight fit, but…

I curved my thumb, hissing through my teeth as I pushed the stone against my bones. Willing joints and bones to bend. Black dots started to blur my vision against the burning agony of whatever poisoned magic they possessed.

A deep breath as I let up again, stone back to dangle on my wrist.

I had seen the aftermath of animals that gnawed their way out of traps. Coming hours later to discover blood and tufts of fur at some life or death struggle lived alone and in agony.

I would have to break my thumbs. If I could do it quickly, before the pain overtook me, my fae healing could return and I –

I tried to breathe around the panic, tried to listen and distract myself from my racing thoughts.

The sounds of the manor settling became softer and quieter as night deepened. Murmured voices from the conversation of sentries outside of my door. The distant sound of doors closing, servants going about their final duties for the evening as if this place hadn’t become a prison. The nightingale was calling desperately outside, joined in an occasional chorus by the soft answer of an owl somewhere on the edge of the forest.

I let everything settle inside of me. Quieting. Digging. Looking for that deep well of power within me once again - before I had to resort to this. Feeling the air around me - wanting to call the magic forth - whether fire from the candle or water from the dew settling on the rose petals - I begged something to speak to me, to pull it from inside me where it hid.

The nightingale had gone quiet. And through the woven tapestry of curled wood and thorns silver light was streaming in between the darkness - the light of the moon.

Of course. How ridiculous of me.

I hadn’t been able to summon the darkness before like Rhysand had, speckled with those jewel-like stars. But I reached for it, called for it, thinking of him, of the power I could always sense emanating off of him – of the vast and endless night skies peeking into my room.

The air pressure in the room dropped along with the temperature - my next breath coming out in a cold puff of air.

A crackling on my skin like lightning about to strike, all my hairs standing up on end. Before my mind could understand, the latticed prison of the rose tree snapped through the middle with a deafening crack.

A sharp sliver of onyx glass cut through the room, and Rhysand stepped out of it onto the carpet in front of me.

Even with my fae senses dulled, I could indeed feel that power off of him now, blackness twisting in the air like cold smoke with the promise of death.

His wide eyes quickly scanned the room. When he found me, he went still as stone.

Read the rest on AO3

#acotar #feysand #feysand fanfic #acotar fanfic #canon divergence #acomaf #spring court shenanigans

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weirdmarioenemies · 11 months ago

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Name: Spring Vault Debut: Super Mario Galaxy

Oh boy, a vault! A spring vault! A vault full of goodies and treasures, perhaps? Only one way to find out! Come on, Spring Vault, you have nothing to hide! Open up, and let us inside!

Uh oh, lasers? Those goodies and treasures aren't good or treasured! Nevermind, Spring Vault. You can keep your goodies to yourself. I don't want them and neither does Mario.

This is Spring Vault, from Super Mario Galaxy! I didn't know they were called that, but as it turns out, the wiki didn't until pretty recently either, so I'm not alone. Spring Vaults are a stationary enemy that attack Mario by shooting circular laser beams from a safe distance!

Which raises my first question: are "circular laser beams" even something that can exist? Does light work that way? I wouldn't know! That sounds like a physics question and I know next to nothing about physics because I'm bad at math. I got my degree in Applied Weird Mario Enemies Studies at Wet-Dry World's Wet n' Wild Wuniversity.

If you can hop over Spring Vault's possibly impossible circular laser beams, then you can jump on Spring Vault to reveal the real treasure: Spring! Jump on Spring Vault with the spring revealed, and you can get some impressive vertical, bringing Jump Man to heights never before thought to be possible...

Don't worry too much about breaking the Funny Robot though. If you leave it undisturbed for long enough, it'll fix itself by Recalibrating Its Spring Senors or some other vaguely technological-sounding mumbo jumbo. I don't know anything about computers either! I'm writing this post on a stone tablet!

If you're familiar with your Weird Mario Enemies, you may note that Spring Vault looks similar to the Topmen from the same game, especially the Spring Topman, which loses out on its laser functionality to let you enjoy Springing on the go! But just as the Topman is a whole family of enemies, Spring Vault has a bit of a family of its own, which I'll cover beneath the cut!

First up, we have the Sentry Garage, which is probably the closest relative of the Spring Vault. Sentry Garages are a similarly stationary enemy that can be jumped on to reveal the spring within, but instead of shooting out lasers, they shoot Topminis! I'd make another joke about the miracle of childbirth, but the name suggests these are just a Topmini storage unit...

Sentry Garage looks like a pretty stylish place to keep your Topminis, but if a plumber comes by and spins them into next Thursday, don't say I didn't warn you!

Sadly, Sentry Garage is about as interesting as the Spring Vault family gets, because the rest of these are more "obstacle" than enemy. Like Ring Beamer, for example! No eyes or anything. Just a bunch of spikes. But sea urchins have no eyes and a bunch of spikes, and they're awesome, so maybe we should extend the same love to Ring Beamer. Make it feel loved. Make it feel like part of a family.

It's not trying to make you feel like part of a family though! Lasers? Spikes? Everything Ring Beamer does is a pretty clear indicator to Stay Away!

Up next we have the Ball Beamers, but you can call them Banjo and Kazooie, because they have Nuts and Bolts! Like the Ring Beamer, these are more obstacle than enemy, but unlike Ring Beamer, they don't have spikes or anything. This makes them safe for Mario to stand on, but it also means you can't compare them to sea urchins as much. You win some, you lose some.

They're still not completely safe though, because you know. Circular laser beams.

The thing is, whether they're an Enemy or Obstacle, Nintendo must have really fallen in love with the Ring Beamer family, because they've kept making new variants in subsequent 3D Mario games! Meet Ring Burner, introduced in Super Mario 3D World! Rather than lasers, this one shoots fire, but otherwise it has the same basic attack patterns.

Or at least it can have the same attack patterns, because some Ring Burners shoot fire in squares instead! Haven't you heard? It's hip to be square! This feels like it goes against the name, but oh well. Like Ball Beamer, these ones are safe to stand on, and they won't fire while you stand on it. Are they scared? Does Ring Beamer have feelings? Is that skull marking its actual face?

That being said, by the time Super Mario Odyssey came out, "fire" and "being safe to stand on" were out of fashion again, because Pulse Beam brought back the lasers and spikes! Or rather, laser and spike. Pulse Beam thinks having more than one spike is excessive.

Pulse Beam also values its personal space, and as long as you don't disturb it, it won't disturb you. Pulse Beams will only start shooting lasers when hit by Cappy, so leave them be, and they'll leave you be! That being said, their lasers can clear out other small enemies, so it might be good to activate them if you're getting overwhelmed...

But be careful! Pulse Beams tend to activate other Pulse Beams, so once one goes off, you'll probably have to deal with a few. Time your jumps well, and you should be A-OK.

But hold on, what if I were to tell you that the Ring Beamer family wasn't restricted to the Mario franchise...?

Happy Tunky Tuesday, because thinking so much about circular laser beams you gotta hop over reminded me of the Wave Breaker from Splatoon 3! This special weapon uses basically the same attack pattern, releasing circular shockwaves you need to jump over to avoid getting damaged, and since this is a competitive shooter, getting hit by the Wave Breaker also puts a target on your back, letting everyone on the enemy team know your exact location! Imagine, getting doxxed by a cup and ball toy. Those Splatoons have it rough.

Clearly the Splatoon 3 developers fell in love with this mechanic, because it shows up even in other game modes, with DJ Octavio's boss fight, the Amped Octostamp, and the Big Shot from Salmon Run using the exact same shockwave mechanics. The sheer scope of Ring Burner's influence can not be understated!

It's weird that talking about a Funny Spring Laser Enemy from Super Mario Galaxy eventually led me to talking about a different franchise in a different genre, but it's apparent Nintendo has fallen in love with this sort of obstacle. Gosh, Nintendo, if you love Circular Laser Beams You Need To Jump Over so much, why don't you marry them?

...I can be Spring Vault/Ring Beamer/Ring Burner/Wave Breaker/the rest's bridesmaid if they need one! I promise!

#spring vault #super mario galaxy #mario #mario enemies #mod hooligon

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viktoriaashleyyx · 3 months ago

Text

Cover art by Konstantin Turovec

Here we begin to see more of where Sky has been this time, I am trying my hand at multifandom, but i feel i explained it well. If you're going to start reading this please finish it before getting mad at me. Rhysand is starting shit.

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet.

Tw: violence, blood.

Ch1

Ch 5 >>> Ch 7

Chapter 6:

After dinner in Adriata, I portaled Tamlin and I home to the foyer of the manor, him shouldering the bags of clothes I purchased from the shops in Summer. It wasn't terribly expensive, I have just always loved supporting the local shops in the towns I visit.

There came a knock at the door just as Tamlin was heading upstairs. “Oooh! Visitors!!” I said excitedly as I ran to the door. Tamlin trailed closely behind me, setting the bags on the ground, because, for a while there, visitors didn't necessarily mean good things.

Pure fear consumed my face as I opened the door to see my brother, standing there holding his breath, and Lucien. It took only a second for my brother to drop Lucien and winnow away. “No! Lucien!” I screamed as I caught him, falling forward into me. His face was beaten and bloodied and a dagger stuck out from his back. I sat down on the ground, holding his head to my chest. There was so much blood, and it was pooling around me.

“Lucien, Lucien, stay with me. You survived Baron and your brothers, you will survive this.” Tamlin was panicking. “What about that potion you gave me when you first got back?”

“He would need to be able to swallow it.” I cried, tears streaming down my face. With shaky hands I grabbed his knees and pulled them up to me. Cradling him in my arms. I looked Tamlin dead in the eyes, “Trust. Me.” and Lucien and I fell through a portal.

We landed, just outside of the gates of Darnassus. I was kneeling, still holding him up in a seated position while the rest of his weight laid on the cool cobblestone underneath us. If I could get him to this realm, I could revive him myself. He had eaten the food of Azeroth many times, albeit unknowingly, it should be enough to send his soul to the angel that guards the grave. I hope it's enough. “Are you still with me?” I asked, looking for any sign of life. The only other step was that he die, here. Death in Azeroth is not as permanent as it is in Prythia. It's still terrifying, but if you can find your corpse you can resurrect, and I brought him directly to the graveyard where his soul would go.

He let out a soft groan, blood still pooling on the ground. Good, he's barely there, but he's still alive. “Let go.” I whispered to him, my voice shaky, he was obviously just the catalyst used to send me a message.

As I felt his skin growing colder, I looked to the graveyard in front of me. “Come,” I called, “come back to your body, you will be okay.” I could never see the spirits unless I was one, I had hope that I wasn't too late. Tears streamed down as I buried my face in his cold chest. “Please come back.” I cried

“You dare bring a blood elf onto these lands?” The sentries that guard the gates noticed me and were drawing weapons. In my haste, I failed to register that Lucien, and hell even Tamlin, could be mistaken for a Blood elf, enemies of the Night elves, I just brought us to the place I called home for many years. While Night elf skin is more cool toned, they are associated with greens, blues and purples, Blood elf skin is more warm toned associated with red, yellows and oranges.

“He's not a blood elf.” I snapped as I pulled the dagger out of his back, immediately putting pressure on the open wound. Please leave me alone, this is already traumatic enough. “Lucien,” I looked toward the graveyard, “come back to your body.” Fuck, this has to work. It worked for me the first time I died.

“Get out of here or we will kill you too, traitor.”

Just then a familiar purple raven with dark sigils designed on its feathers nose dived straight for us. As he neared, he shifted back into an elf and positioned himself between me and the guards. “Leave the lady be, I will take it from here.” The guards bowed and returned to their stations.

“Thorin,” I breathed, happy to see him. “Can you resurrect him?” Thorin was a good friend of mine during my time in Azeroth that I, occasionally, had sex with. We had risen to King and Queen together before I left him to move onto the next adventure. He looked like the closest version of Tamlin a Night elf could be, long blonde hair, glowing fully green eyes, impeccable figure. What can I say? I have a type. Also, he was a druid, and druids could heal and resurrect.

“I will give it my best effort.” He began his spell and it stopped. My heart sank until Thorin spoke again ��the motherfucker is still holding on.” There is too much blood, there is no way. Thorin shot a healing blast straight into Lucien's chest and Lucien woke up, inhaling heavily. The blast speeds up the healing process to almost instant.

“Where am I? What's going on?” Lucien asked, trying and failing to jump up as my arms were still around him.

“You're fine, this is Darnassus, I lived here for many years and this is my friend, Thorin. He saved your life.” I explained gently. There was still a lot of fear in Lucien's eyes as he took in his surroundings and the elf that stood before him. The vibrant purple sky and soft green moss resembled a healthy mix of the scenery in Night and Spring, while the massive trees surrounding us added a flair of Autumn. I turned to Thorin “thank you, your timing was amazing. I would love to stay and catch up but we really need to get back.”

He bowed his head slightly, “the pleasure is mine, I'm glad I heard you when I did. Don't be a stranger, come back and see us when life settles down for you.” He bent over to give me a kiss on the forehead and he shifted back into his raven form and was off.

I whispered to Lucien “we should get back before Tamlin destroys the manor again.”

“That's a terribly dark joke,” he laughed, still resting in my arms, head back and eyes closed, “I won't tell him you said that and we will be even.”

“Fair,” I giggled as we fell back through a portal home.

Tamlin was pacing just outside the manor as we returned, dashing over to us the second his gaze met mine. I held Lucien still, one arm supporting his neck, the other under his knees. “Walking is going to be painful for a day or two due to where the knife was, but he should make a full recovery.” I said as I passed him off to Tamlin. “Help him out of his bloodied clothes and into bed.”

Tamlin looked down at Lucien, still trailing in and out of consciousness, “He's alive? What happened? Where did you go?”

“Yes, my ex revived him, and Darnassus.” He knew when I kept my answers short like this, to not press further. “I am going to bathe this blood off me, and I just got this dress too, damnit Rhysand, always starting shit, just leave us alone….” I complained out loud as I walked away. I assume Tamlin did as I asked, I did my part, and I am tired.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I woke up the next morning, threw on one of my new dresses and headed to Lucien's room. I knocked “Lucien? Can I come in?”

“Come in,” I opened the door slowly and peeked in. He tried to get up, and I stopped him, sitting on the edge of his bed by his side.

“How are you feeling?”

“Groggy, weak.” He muttered, annoyed.

“That's to be expected, you died yesterday.” I reassured him softly. “I am truly sorry for what my brother did–”

“Don't pity me.” He snapped harshly, avoiding eye contact.

“Hah, this is far from pity. I am terrified of you. That much blood? For how long you held on? You are a tough one that's for sure, remind me to never get on your bad side.” I laughed and he tried to hide the smile forming on his lips. He was still holding onto that anger.

“Why? Why save me, you barely knew me?” He accused.

“Because you matter.” My tone was flat. My intention was not to flatter him, but to actually convince him. “Your value does not reside in how you can be of use to me, Lucien. You do not need to suffer for me to see you as a person whose right to life I respect.” His glare softened slightly, seeming to almost believe me. “What would you like for breakfast? I'll bring it up to you.”

“Just some fruit and maybe some water would be nice.” He whispered.

“Okay, I'll be right back” I pushed his hair out of his face and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “Door, open or shut?”

“You can leave it cracked.”

I returned moments later with a tray of mixed fruit and a couple glasses of water. He sat up as I placed the tray on his lap, sitting down next to him. “What happened when you returned to Night?”

Lucien sighed. “Rhysand initially sent me, ordered me, here to convince you to come back with me. I have been at his mercy since leaving Spring, and he figured the curse you put on him wouldn't apply to me since you didn't know of me. What I didn't expect was to return to a rebuilt manor and a Tamlin that not only welcomed me back with open arms, but also an apology. Spring has always been my home, until it wasn't, but after the day I spent with you and him, I felt like I got it back. I returned to Night to tell him that you had no interest in returning and I wouldn't be the one to force you. And, well, your brother doesn't like to be told he can't have what he wants.”

“If you had truly come to Spring with the intention of harm at my brother's behest, the curse would, most definitely, apply to you.” I clarified. “I don't believe you have it in your heart to ever really betray Tamlin.”

“I didn't, and even now it looks as though I owe Spring another life debt.” Lucien sighed.

“You owe me nothing, Lucien. I am not keeping score. That dagger was buried in your back because you stood up for me. You did the right thing and risked your life for someone you barely knew,” I reassured. “I would like to request that you stay here, or at least stay away from the Night court entirely. They believe you to be dead, and we can use that to our advantage later.” A small lie, but Lucien is too proud for his own good, so I knew I had a better chance of convincing him if he thought it to be strategy instead of worry.

“I understand, I would like to remain here, at least until I regain my strength, but I don't want to be treated like a fragile child.” Lucien pressed.

“That is fair, and while I do not, could not, see you as a child in any capacity, I can understand that my kindness may translate that way at times. Just let me know when it is too much and I will back off. Deal?”

“Deal.” He sighed.

I bid him farewell and left the room to allow him to rest. Tamlin was waiting out in the hall.

“How's he doing?”

“Better, he should be well enough to join us for dinner. But I fear I may have to face my brother sooner than I wanted to. It looks like he is going to keep leaving us these grotesque gifts until I hear him out.” I replied calmly as we made our way to the kitchen.

“I don't like the idea of you going there alone. I will be worried sick the entire time. Everyone I care about that has left for Night, has come back in pieces.” Tamlin admitted sternly.

“I need you to trust that I will be fine. His wards have no effect on my portals, no one in Prythia has any understanding of how they work or how to hinder them. I am no longer affected by ash or bloodbane. I will be okay. I promise. I need you here.”

“That's not going to stop me from worrying. Someone needs to protect you.”

I stopped walking and he turned to me. I relaxed the tension I held in my shoulders and looked up at him with a pout on my lips. I knew damn well I was powerful enough to take every High Lord in Prythia with one hand tied behind my back after taking six shots of pure bloodbane. But, I didn't have to fight anymore. I wouldn't have to. He wanted to protect me. Someone wanted to keep me safe. This is all I've wanted. He pulled me into his chest and I whispered, “Then come with me.”

Tag list: @ladythornofrivia @rcarbo1 @rin-u-pos @knoxic @lilah-asteria

#pro tamlin #tamlin x reader #tamlin x you #tamlin x oc #acotar fanfic #anti rhysand fanfic #anti rhysand #lucien #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #pro lucien #tamlin fanfiction #tamlin fanfic

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danikamariewrites · 1 year ago

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Riding Mishap

Eris x reader

Warnings: mention of injuries

One of your favorite activities during peak Autumn season is to go horseback riding through the woods with Eris. The leaves were vibrant shades of red, orange, and yellow. The air was crisp and the earthy, apple scent always calmed you.

Once you finish tightening the saddle on your chestnut mare, Masha, Eris comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle. He nuzzles his face into your neck as you lean back into his warmth.

Eris rests his chin on your shoulder. “You ready love?” you nod giving him a soft mmhmm. He kisses your cheek, letting go. He helped you up onto your horse, and once he was on his own you two set out for the forest.

Riding next to Eris you were lost in thought. You wish just once you and Eris could go on one date alone. Every time you've gone out in the past two months sentries have to accompany you. Beron’s orders.

You didn't know if he was truly paranoid about the protection of his heir, or if he was just trying to make Eris miserable. Your guess was the latter. Beron hated anything that gave Eris a single ounce of joy. Which meant he hated you.

A scurrying noise and twigs breaking pulled you from your thoughts. Pulling on Masha’s reins, stopping abruptly. Eris and the sentries paused as well, taking in the surrounding woods.

Before you knew what was happening two rabbits came racing out of the brush. They ran between Masha's legs, scaring her. She bucked and rose on her hind legs. You didn't have time to hold on, Eris screamed your name, the sentries panicked, and before you knew you hit the ground.

Eris threw himself off his horse, falling to his knees beside you. Cradling you against his chest he turned to one of the sentries, “Go back to the house, get a healer to my chambers.” the male nodded and rode back at breakneck speed.

…

Hours later you begin to stir. Your senses were fuzzy. Was the forest floor always this soft? Your eyelids felt too heavy as you tried to lift them. The little sliver of light you could see burning your vision. You groan, “Eris?” you hear him slide onto the bed next to you.

“I'm here my love, do you need anything?” “What happened?” His thumb caresses your cheek, “You fell off Masha, y/n. Your wrist is sprained and you have a concussion but you're going to be just fine.” you let out a sigh of relief.

“Is Masha ok?” Eris chuckles, “Yes, she's fine I promise.” “Can I go back to sleep?” Eris gives you an empathetic look, “You have to stay up for a little while longer.” another groan escapes your lips. “I can read to you if you want.”

You pat the spot next to you and he moves up the bed. Laying your head in his lap as Eris opens his book and begins to read.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @baybay123455 @bubybubsters @msiecrane

#acotar fanfiction #acotar reader imagine #acotar #acotar reader fic #acotar imagine #eris vanserra acotar x reader #eris vanserra #eris x you #eris x reader #eris vanserra x you

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meiliarotten · 1 year ago

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And They Were Roomates

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairing: Engineer x Fem!Reader

Summary: Oh my god, they were roomates… Due to the shenanigans of the other mercenaries, your room is now uninhabitable. After a few nights of suffering on the common room couch, Engineer invites you to stay in his quarters. Smut ensues because of course it does!

Tags: Riding, oral, massage, kinda soft, the reader is a bit of a poor little meow meow not sure why I did that, “And There Was Only One Bed! 😯”

Word Count: 5.1k

The Masterlist

How does one accidentally make a lethal bio weapon? To find out you would simply have to ask Medic and Demo. To be more specific, a very drunk Medic and an even more drunk than usual Demo, who had made the joint decision one night that it would be a good idea to mix random chemicals and alcohols in order to, in their own words, “see what would happen.”

The ensuing toxic airborne chemical proceeded to permeate not only the lab, but any room relatively nearby. Unfortunately, that happened to include your own room. Waking up in respawn nearly coughing up a lung was not how you wanted to start your morning, and yet, there you were.

Most of the mercs were speechless when they found out that a good portion of their base would be completely quarantined until the gas could dissipate. Despite being at a loss for words, the few responsible members of the team were quick to scold both Medic and Demoman for several hours- although neither of them seemed to care much. You, however, were especially inconvenienced by this situation, since your room was right in the contamination zone.

At first, you had tried to venture in with a handkerchief pressed against your mouth and nose, just long enough to grab some things from your room. You learned your lesson when you once again woke up in respawn, your lungs and throat burning like you had tried to swallow acid. You should have known better than to think a simple square of cloth would be able to fend off a chemical that had been cooked up by Demo and Medic. Hell, not even Pyro dared to go into the sealed off portion of the base, and they were covered head to toe in a flame resistant suit and gas mask.

In the end, you made peace with the fact that you would be sleeping on the common room couch for several days. It was fine the first couple nights, but it wasn’t long before these new sleeping arrangements began to affect you negatively. You found yourself waking up in weird positions, just from trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep, which would usually result in a stiff back or an unrelenting ache that wouldn’t waver for the rest of the day.

Still, you had a job to do, and so whenever anyone asked about a limp or a wince that you couldn’t hide, you would tell them it was nothing and get on with your day. Most would leave you alone then- except for one. The Engineer was the most concerned about your current state of perpetual exhaustion, probably because he was your closest friend on the team. While you wouldn’t mind if your relationship were to be something a bit more than friends, it was something you never had the courage to bring up.

It had been your third day on the couch when he cornered you in the locker rooms after the daily battles had concluded.

“Engie?” you said, wondering what he wanted. Today had been full of some pretty miserable losses, and on such days Engie tended to seclude himself in his room to work on improving his sentry blueprints.

“I want you to sit down here, darlin,’” he said matter of factly, motioning to the bench in the middle of the locker room. “You got pretty roughed up out there today.”

“We all did.” You pointed out the obvious, but you were also too tired to argue. With a sigh, you sat down on the bench. Engie made his way behind you, and you were about to ask him what exactly he thought he was doing when your breath caught in your throat.

Engie placed his hands on your shoulders with care, working his thumbs into your back. He was gentle, gradually increasing the pressure to work out the tightness in your muscles. He located and paid special attention to spots that had been giving you quite a bit of trouble lately with surprising skill.

“God, honey. You’re so tense, just try to relax for me,” he said, shifting his focus from your shoulders to your upper and middle back.

“Well, anything for you.” The words slipped out without you even thinking about it, but Engie didn’t seem to mind, simply humming in response. You were thankful that he either didn’t notice or didn’t mention the blush spreading over your cheeks.

Those hands of his worked wonders, that was for sure. The pressure was perfect as he worked over your muscles with expertise you didn’t know he had. It wasn’t long until the stiffness was nearly gone.

“I can’t believe you’ve been fighting so hard out there while carrying all this tension,” Engie said as he began to work on a particularly troublesome spot around your right shoulder.

“I have to pull my weight, and a bit of pain isn’t about to stop me,” you said matter of factly. You all had to get paid somehow, after all.

“Still, it ain’t fair that you gotta toss and turn all night only to get shot, stabbed, and blown up all day. At least the rest of us have the comfort of our own rooms…” Engie paused, his eyes lighting up as if realizing something obvious. “Oh, well there’s an idea.”

“What?”

“How about you stay in my room for a few days?”

You started stammering, not daring to look back at Engie in case he noticed how red your face was. “Oh, I don’t want to be a burden or anything. Do you even have an extra bed?”

“Oh no, I’ll just take the floor until your room is livable again,” he explained. You couldn’t believe it. Your not-so-subtle workplace crush had just given you a massage and immediately offered up his own bed for your use. Even so, your nerves made you hesitant.

“Engie, you don’t have to do that,” you said, feeling a pang of guilt. “I would be your guest! I’ll take the floor.”

“Nonsense, darlin’! I offered you my room so you wouldn’t be waking up uncomfortable, what’s the point of that if I don’t at least offer you the bed?” You began to stammer and protest again but Engie simply put his hand up to stop you, concluding his decision with a final, “I insist.”

You sighed, realizing that it was a fruitless endeavor to argue. Not to mention you were quite thrilled to be sharing a room with Engie, so why debate over a good thing? Still, you felt a compromise was in order.

“We’ll take turns,” you said, trying to mirror Engie’s own tone of finality. He chuckled at your attempt, which probably came off as more cute than serious. Still, he agreed, perhaps also realizing that arguing the matter wouldn’t be productive.

“Alright, fine,” he conceded. “We’ll take turns.”

—

Engie’s room was quite comfortable, despite the blueprints and sentry parts scattered about. There was a sense of organized chaos to it all, and you were sure if you asked Engie to find something specific he would be able to with no issue. The bed was quite nice as well. You had almost forgotten what it felt like to wake up without aches and pains.

However, that ‘compromise’ regarding the sleeping arrangements barely lasted three days.

One thing you always knew about Engie was that he was the type to go to sleep very late at night, usually after finalizing the details on weapon blueprints, or tinkering with the Gunslinger. However he suddenly became much more keen on turning in early, especially earlier than you. When you would find him fast asleep on the floor of his room, even when it was not his turn, you pretty much had no choice but to take the bed.

You had tried waking him up a few times. It was no use. The man slept like a rock. He was gentlemanly to the point of frustration, but it only made you more fond of him, if not a bit exasperated. It would be a relief when your room was finally cleaned out and livable again.

This arrangement continued until one especially difficult day. A hard battle had ended in an extremely close victory, but nobody had the energy to celebrate. Battered and exhausted, everyone who needed to made their way to Medic for treatment, and then shuffled off to sleep away the lingering soreness. You got to the room before Engie, who was still being patched up, pulled back the covers and collapsed onto the mattress with a heavy sigh.

You were just beginning to doze off when you heard the door open. You lifted your head to see Engie limping into the room- he had taken a few nasty shots to the leg today. The moment you saw him kneeling down to the floor, you spoke up.

“Engie, don’t be ridiculous,” you said, unable to believe that this man was really about to sleep on the cold floor after such an arduous day. He jumped slightly, having assumed you were already asleep. You shifted over to one side of the bed, making a space just large enough for him to occupy. “Come over here.”

The slight blush on his face didn’t go unnoticed by you, even in the dim lighting of the room. He sidled up next to you with a sigh. “Thanks darlin.’”

“It’s no problem. We both deserve to be comfortable after today,” you said. Both of you were still in your day clothes, but neither cared enough to change out of them.

However, despite the exhausting day, neither of you were able to sleep for a while. Perhaps it was the lingering giddiness that came with winning such a close battle. Or, maybe it was the undeniable intimacy of sharing a bed, with little room for personal space and barely a gap between the two of you. Engie was the first to say something when it became obvious that sleep wouldn’t come easy, eager to break the awkward silence that reigned while both of you simply lay awake.

“You know, I’ve always wondered, what led you to join up with a bunch of mercenaries?”

The question caught you off guard. Honestly, there were several complicated reasons and events that led you to where you were now. It certainly wasn’t something you wanted to get into in its entirety.

“Probably the same as all of you. Money gets tight, and eventually you just take whatever you can get,” you said. It wasn’t completely untrue, and Engie seemed to relate.

“Guess I should’ve figured as much,” he said with an understanding nod.

“It’s not all bad though,” you added, hesitating before continuing. “I mean, I’ve made friends here. I met you.”

Engie was silent for a moment before responding. “Well, that’s a meeting I wouldn’t trade for the world, darlin’.”

You prayed that your blush was hidden by the darkness of the room. However when Engie’s hand suddenly came up to your cheek, there was no way he didn’t feel the heat radiating from your face. He didn’t comment on it, and you gave him an inquisitive look as he seemed deep in thought. When he did finally speak, he fumbled with his words for a moment before finally managing to say something coherent.

“May I kiss you?”

It was a short, simple question, impossible to be misinterpreted, and yet your brain couldn’t seem to process the request. Within a moment it felt as if your senses were all running on high alert, culminating in an even shorter, one word answer.

“Yes!” The volume at which you spoke was louder than you meant for it to be, displaying your over-excitement in a way that made you want to cover your face and melt through the mattress. With a deep breath, you managed to regain some of your composure, stammering in an attempt to salvage your response. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so blunt. I was just trying to say that I would like that. I would like that very much.”

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart,” Engie said, looking down at you with a soft smile. You were drawn to that expression, already leaning forward a bit. He was the one to close the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours.

He kept it chaste at first, but you could tell he wanted more. It wasn’t long before you made the first move to deepen the kiss, biting gently at his lower lip until he gasped, allowing you entrance. It was an intense, wordless communication of feelings the two of you hadn’t dared to express until now, set out in the open through the parting of lips and the mingling of tongues, culminating in the two of you panting when the need for air pulled you apart.

You weren’t sure when you had wrapped your arms around his shoulders. And you sure as hell weren’t sure when he ended up on top of you either. In a sudden moment of clarity, your face flushed red and a strange combination of shame and excitement overwhelmed you.

“Sorry. Was that too much?” you asked. Doubt was setting in. Maybe he hadn’t wanted something so… passionate. Maybe you had taken it too far. Engie quelled those fears when he finally regained his composure enough to answer.

“No, it was perfect.” His voice was dreamy and breathless. He looked down at you with such genuine fondness, and it made you feel so weak for him, so desperate for his touch. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long while now, darlin’. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was kinda hoping something like this would happen when I invited you to my room.”

“Well, it took you long enough,” you teased before kissing him again. You were eager to resume your exploration of his mouth, but this time he took control, letting his lips travel down and linger on your jawline, eventually descending to your neck and drawing soft whimpers from you as he ventured over the sensitive skin.

Engie sought after those little sounds you made, sucking at the delicate skin on your neck and collar. You shuddered as he gently grazed your skin with his teeth. Even though he was treating you with the utmost care, you had a feeling there would be some marks you would need to cover up tomorrow.

Although he tried to hide it, every noise you made in response to Engie’s ministrations had him growing more aroused by the minute. He had always hoped he would have had more self control in this situation. After all, the only thing that had happened so far was some kissing. Yet that seemed to be enough for him on this particular day, as you soon felt the evidence of his arousal pressing firmly against you through his clothing.

You let out a soft gasp at the sensation. Engie didn’t seem to take notice, still keeping himself busy with marking up your neck. You moved your thigh against his groin just to be sure, and the breathy groan you got in response was all the confirmation you needed.

Engie pulled back suddenly, looking panicked and apologetic, as if he had just come to his senses. “I’m sorry darlin,’ I seem to be getting a bit over excited-”

“No, it’s alright!” you said, cutting him off mid-apology. You wanted him to keep going. You didn’t want him to cease his actions for even a moment, and you made sure he knew that. “I don’t want to stop, please.”

He looked hesitant for a moment, but not unwilling. If anything, he seemed as anxious as you were, and that brought you some respite. The way you looked at him, with desire and anticipation that mirrored his own, was enough to convince him that you truly meant what you said.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Just let me take good care of you.”

Engineer set upon your neck again, this time making a clear effort to leave tell tale bruises. You didn’t mind. It was nothing makeup wouldn’t be able to cover, and you found that you quite enjoyed the gentle bites Engie would sometimes deliver after marking up a new area of your skin.

Still, you felt a bit awkward. It seemed as if Engie was doing all the work. He did tell you to let him take care of you, but surely you should be doing something? The feeling of hands on your hips brought you back to reality. That robotic hand, affixed to its owner through a brilliant feat of engineering and biology, now held a near bruising grip on your hip. You winced and Engie loosened his grasp with a soft apology.

Even though it had hurt, there was something tantalizing about the idea that the Gunslinger had only been exerting a small fraction of the power stored in those robotic joints. And now, Engie kept its pressure under control perfectly, using it to hold you gently, eventually working the metal digits beneath the hem of your shirt. You took that as your cue to take some initiative, stripping off your top before Engie had the chance to do it himself. He looked surprised for a moment before realizing that you were staring, most likely waiting for him to undress as well. He began to hastily unfasten the buttons on his shirt and you watched eagerly, your lower lip trapped between your teeth.

Not wanting to just sit there ogling, you did the most obvious thing you could think of and started kissing him again. It was rougher than before and a bit clumsy, especially as the two of you tried to multitask, undressing each other until most of your clothes were discarded on the bedroom floor. Engie paused when he reached the waistband of your underwear, as if he was waiting for permission to go further.

“Go on, Dell,” you whispered, the use of his name catching his attention immediately. “Please.”

He gave you a quick nod and carefully removed your undergarments as well, leaving you naked beneath him. You laid back, glancing to the side awkwardly as you realized you weren’t quite sure what came next. Dell, seeming to sense your uncertainty, thankfully spoke up.

“It’s alright, darlin.’ Just start by telling me what you want.” He was being genuine, clearly not making any attempt to tease you. Still, the idea of putting words to all the things you had fantasized about before this moment made your face flush red.

“I want…” you paused, taking a moment to think before continuing with a shaky sigh. “I want you to touch me, please.”

Dell grinned down at you, making you blush harder. “Oh, like this?”

You shivered as you felt his fingers slide along your slit. He held eye contact with you, taking in every reaction you made. You gave a soft whimper when he dipped into you, gently thrusting with his fingers. Once Dell was sure you were starting to relax he shifted his focus to your clit, making your body shudder and your back arch against the mattress.

He was attentive, making sure to ease up whenever you seemed to be getting overwhelmed. He held your hips still with his prosthetic, and once again you were reminded that the Gunslinger was exerting a mere fraction of its power on you. The idea of being somewhat restrained by such a powerful work of machinery was incredibly erotic.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” Dell’s voice brought you back to reality, along with the fact that he was no longer moving within you.

“Fuck, yes! Keep going,” you begged, squirming at the lack of stimulation. The soft chuckle you got in response was followed by Dell doing something especially nice with his fingers, curling them within you. You couldn’t hold back a sharp moan, bucking against his fingers- or at least you would have if you weren’t still being held still.

“That’s a real nice spot isn’t it?” he asked, his lips brushing against your ear as he leaned in close. You gasped as he continued to press a finger against your sweet spot, carefully working in a second digit to allow for more pressure.

Dell knew how to read your body surprisingly well, and he knew that if he simply let his thumb rub against your clit right now it would bring you to orgasm. But he couldn’t deny that he wanted to really take in the sight of you writhing like this, completely lost in the pleasure he was giving you. However, being the gentleman he was, he couldn’t deny you for long, especially when you started to buck your hips. He couldn’t stand to see you so needy. He wanted to see you come for him.

As he continued to work his fingers inside of you he used his thumb to circle over your clit, making you shudder and moan into your hand. You didn’t want anyone to overhear you, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to contain your sounds, especially as you finally felt the pleasure overwhelm you. You came with a shaky groan, whimpering his name as you rode out your orgasm.

Dell pulled his fingers away when you began to squirm from overstimulation. He didn’t say anything at first, completely captivated by how you looked as you relaxed in the afterglow. Your tousled hair, flushed face, and half lidded eyes created a gorgeous picture for him to take in.

“Hey, what is it?” you asked when you finally caught your breath and noticed him staring.

“Nothing, you’re just so pretty,” Dell said, chuckling softly. He knew it probably sounded a bit juvenile, but it was the truth. “Ain’t never seen anything like it.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that statement. “You must be kidding,” you said, just barely managing to contain a laugh. “I’m certain a guy like you has been with plenty of pretty girls.”

“Nope, at least, none that I really care for.” He went quiet for a moment, as if contemplating his next words carefully before continuing. His voice was softer, almost shy. “But I care about you, I really do. I want to make you feel good, make you feel loved like you should be.”

You somehow managed to blush even brighter than you already were. Honestly, you weren’t sure how to respond. You looked deep in thought for a while, and Dell began to worry.

“Was that too much?” His apologetic tone brought you back to reality. “I’m sorry. I understand if you want this to be a one time thing-”

“No! Nothing’s wrong,” you stammered, trying to find the words to express what you were feeling. “I guess I’m just not used to it, the whole ‘being cared for’ thing. It feels nice.”

You felt like you were stumbling through your sentences, fearing that you were coming off as clumsy and awkward. Nothing you were saying seemed nearly as eloquent as it had sounded in your head, but then again, such things almost never were.

“Well, you better get used to it,” Dell said with a low chuckle. “Cause by the end of the night, I wanna make you feel like the most cared for person in the world.”

Before you could respond, Dell’s lips were on yours again, and you didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss. You shivered as you tasted his lips and tongue, longing for more of him, more to feel, more to taste. Your hands began to wander, lower and lower until you were able to palm at Dell’s erection, straining against the front of his briefs, which you now realized you had neglected to remove. He pulled away with a gasp and you grinned up at him, an idea beginning to form.

“Let's switch. Let me be on top,” you said, letting go and rolling out from under him.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Dell said, his voice shaking with lust and anticipation as he laid back on the bed and watched you climb on top of him.

You kissed your way down his body, letting your hands wander. He watched, shuddering when you palmed over his chest and then downward, until the tips of your fingers finally slipped just below his waistband. You pulled his briefs down with a quick motion, freeing his erection.

Dell exhaled and gave you an inquisitive look, as if to silently ask, “what are you planning to do now?” You didn’t hesitate to show him exactly what your intentions were, leaning down and taking his cock into your mouth with a muffled moan. The sharp gasp you got in response certainly didn’t disappoint, and you quickly got to work bobbing your head and using your tongue in all the right ways.

“Oh god, darlin,’” Dell groaned, placing a hand on the back of your head. He was careful not to push you, but the tightening grip on your hair was indicative of how well you were doing. He was quite vocal, letting you know just how good you were making him feel. You would be lying if you said it didn’t boost your ego a bit. “Just like that, keep workin’ your tongue around, damn you're good at this!”

It was intoxicating to see Dell start to come undone by your efforts, the taste of precum soon becoming noticeable. You were tempted to finish him off like this, to simply let him spill down your throat and swallow every last drop. But you also wanted him inside you so badly, and the pulsing arousal between your hips wouldn’t allow you to deny yourself much longer. You pulled away, accompanied by a disappointed groan. That disappointment wouldn’t last long.

“I want to ride you.” Your voice was breathless and heavy, making the statement sound more like a desperate plea.

He let out a sharp exhale, clearly trying to contain his excitement. Dell just barely managed to keep a wide grin from spreading across his face, answering with a shaky “Alright.” He almost sounded nervous, and you couldn’t help but find it rather cute.

You positioned yourself over him, his briefs now pulled much further down his thighs. Your breath hitched as you finally sank down onto his cock, dissolving into a low moan as you took him fully inside you. You felt Dell’s grip on your thighs tighten, the strength of his mechanical hand startling you for the third time that night as you felt the metal joints squeeze your flesh. His touch traveled up to your hips as you adjusted, eventually coming to rest on your ass when you finally began to move.

“You take me so well,” Dell moaned, looking up at you with half lidded eyes. “You look so pretty bouncing on my cock like that, darlin’.”

You whimpered at his praise, some part of you knowing you shouldn’t be too loud, even as you rode him harder and faster. Your lower lip was caught firmly between your teeth as you tried to muffle yourself. Even so, some louder moans and gasps managed to escape whenever you hit a particularly good spot. Dell found it adorable whenever you would clasp your hand over your mouth, only to begin biting your lip once again as you needed both hands to keep your balance.

Meanwhile, he was just barely restraining himself from flipping you over and fucking you into the mattress. The sight above him was gorgeous- your body squirming atop his as he held your curves in his hands. However, it only made him more curious to know what it would be like to have you below him, writhing and grasping at the bedsheets and he ravished you. Even with how much he wanted that, he resisted. After all, it was becoming quite clear from your failing efforts to keep quiet and the way you were beginning to grind against him that you were getting close. Dell didn’t want to throw you off your rhythm, especially when he was beginning to feel himself lose control as well.

“You’re gonna come real soon, aren’t you?” he asked, stroking your body up and down with the utmost care, taking note of every sensitive area he could use to enhance your pleasure. “Go on sweetheart, say it.”

You cried out, any attempt at keeping your voice down now completely abandoned. Even if you were able to control yourself, the creaking of the bed frame would still be a dead giveaway to what was going on behind closed doors. But you didn’t care anymore, it all felt too good.

“Fuck, Dell! I’m so close,” you cried as you started grinding against him, the stimulation to your clit finally pushing you over the edge.

Dell bucked upward, lost in the sensation of your body trembling around him in the throes of your pleasure. You would have lost your balance if it weren’t for the firm grip he held on your waist keeping you steady. It wasn’t long before he couldn’t hold back any longer, shuddering as he reached his peak. You were pulled down on top of him, pressed against his body as the two of you came down from the high. Soon the only noise you could hear was the two of you breathing heavily, the rise and fall of Dell’s chest beneath you lulling you into a drowsy state.

You didn’t disturb the peace for several minutes, especially when the ache began to settle in your thighs and the idea of moving became far less appealing. As it turned out, riding on top took a hefty physical toll after a while. You must have been enjoying yourself too much to acknowledge it while actually doing it. The irony that you had now traded a stiff and aching back for sore legs was not lost on you, but you honestly couldn’t care less. That was an issue for later.

“You alright, darlin’?” Dell’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“I’m more than alright,” you said, a giddy laugh escaping you. “That was amazing.”

He smiled fondly at you, shifting slightly so that you were side by side and pulling you close. You relaxed into the embrace, eager for the comfort his touch brought you. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, I like making you feel good,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear and making you shiver. “And I’m guessing the days of ‘taking turns’ in the bed are over?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, although it was muffled due to your face being buried against Dell’s chest. You would have thought the answer to that would be obvious, but apparently not. You were able to get over your laughter long enough to mumble a faint “Of course” before letting yourself drift off, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest as the two of you both gave in to the allure of sleep.

#tf2 x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #merc x reader #minors dni #smut #tf2 smut #team fortress 2 #engineer x reader #engie x reader #tf2 engie #tf2 engineer #tf2 engie x reader #engie tf2 #engineer tf2 #engineer team fortress 2 #dell conagher #tf2 x you #cross posted on ao3

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vbecker10 · 7 months ago

Text

Loki's Silent Sentry (alt. ending Part 1)

Part 2

This is meant to be read after part 2, instead of the original parts 3 - 7

**Seriously please do not read this without reading the trigger warnings**

TW: fire, life threatening injury, blood, death of a main character (if you message me I will tell you who in case that will change if you read this or not), mourning the loss of a loved one, loss of a family member, having to mourn in secret, depression, feeling alone, brief mentions of previous loss of parents, inability to move on, guilt

(Please let me know if I missed anything and I will add it)

A/N: I wrote the fluffy, happy ending for this story but I got this song (tagged below) stuck in my head and it felt like a really tragic way to end this story. The idea just kept getting more depressing and heartbreaking so I had to write it. I understand this is not for everyone, it's not even something I would usually read.

Please, please do not feel the need to read this because we are mutuals or because you read the happy ending version. I will absolutely not be offended if you skip it.

...Last chance to turn back lol 🫣

You close your eyes as he pulls you tighter to him, you are sure he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. "Are you really here?" you ask in a whisper. You fear he will vanish like one of his illusions the second you let go of him.

"I'm here my love," he reassures you. He kisses the top of your head and you look up at him. "Follow me," he says in a low voice.

You smile and nod, telling him, "You know I will follow you anywhere."

He takes your hand and leads you into the room he came out of. You can see he has been busy with his magic, his abilities have always thrilled and impressed you. The magically altered office is twice as large inside as it should be and is an exact replica of his chambers. You look around in awe and can't help but wonder if this isn't an illusion but one of his transportation spells.

He smiles with pride at your reaction and puts his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him again.

"How did you do all of this?" you ask. "Its amazing... you're amazing," you tell him as you turn in his arms to face him.

"I'm afraid the young corporal spent has a large portion of her time this week dutifully guarding my empty office," he jokes and you laugh with him.

He smiles and kisses you, his hands traveling up and down the back of your thin shirt as he hold you close. "Stay here with me tonight," he says between kisses. He doesn't say it as a prince ordering his sentry but you obey his request without a second thought.

It is almost five months since your new Sunday night routine with Loki began. He would slip through the palace with ease after he dismissed his sentry for the night and you would take a left at the top of the stairs after his mother released you.

While hidden away, surrounded by his illusion, the two of you could pretend everything was perfect. You love him with all of your heart and he loves you back just as fiercely. He would kiss you and hold you and tell you that you were his but the moment the sun came up, everything would change. You always did your best to hold back your emotions as you put your armor on and returned to your silent duties.

It devastated you every time you needed to leave him but you kept your pain to yourself. You were afraid to ruin the small window of time you had with wishes and false hope that things could somehow be different.

You stand silently outside of the queen's office and let the smallest smile slip when you notice Loki coming down the hall. He offers you a brief smirk in return as he comes to a stop in front of you.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N, is my mother in a meeting?" he asks you.

"No, your highness," you respond, shaking your head slightly.

"I would like to speak with her for a moment," he tells you and you nod.

After knocking on the door, you wait for her to open it then step out of Loki's way. As he passes you, he carefully slips a folded piece of paper into your palm and you close it quickly. He goes inside, pausing for barely a moment to lock eyes with you before closing the door behind him.

You return to your position next to her door and tuck away the note for later, Loki's sentry stands at attention on the other side. You glance over at him quickly, you recognize him but can't recall his name. He had only graduated the academy a month ago, he was far too new to be guarding someone of Loki's standing but that was precisely why he had been selected. Loki had taken to choosing soldiers with limited experience and often replaced them every few weeks. He said he did this so they were less likely to notice he was slipping away to visit you but you joked that it was because he would never be able to find a sentry to fill your place.

The door opens fifteen minutes later and both the queen and Loki step out into the hall. She closes the door behind her and says, "Prince Loki is going to visit the blacksmith and I've decided to get some fresh air and go with him."

You and Loki's sentry nod to acknowledge the plan. You both follow mother and son down several hallways and winding staircases until you finally reach the steps leading to the courtyard. As you step out into the sun, you take a deep breath and close your eyes for a quick moment. The palace air could be stale at times and you always welcomed a chance to spend even a few minutes during the week outside.

Its almost a twenty minute walk to the blacksmiths, past the stables and a well used for the horses. The apprentice steps out of the one story wooden structure to pick up a few cords of wood that are stacked neatly out front. He opens the door and yells something to the man inside, presumably that the queen and prince are coming. He opens the door and bows his head as they walk past to enter, you smile at him a bit to hopefully help ease the young boy's nerves.

The blacksmith bows to Loki and the queen as they enter and the boy shuts the door once you are all inside. You can't help but look around, you've never been in here before but Loki had told you about his frequent visits. You can feel the heat from the tall fires of the forge off to your left and the breeze that flows through the open windows at the far end of the building. Large timber rafters line the steeply pitched roof and a small rainbow shines onto the sawdust covered floor, caused by the colored glass in the door.

Your attention is drawn back to Loki, as it always is when he is near. He begins talking to the older man, the apprentice's father you assume due to how similar they look. They discuss the knives Loki had previously ordered, a set of two daggers with black leather handles and gold inlays in the shape of a coiled snake. You try not to smile at how obviously Loki his request is.

Your focus shifts to the apprentice, he can't be older than nine or ten you think. He takes something from his father and brings it to the office space in the back then returns with a wooden box containing different types of metal to select from. The queen joins in the conversation with her son and Loki's sentry leans against the wall near an open window, staring off into the forest beyond.

You keep your eye on the boy, watching him run from one errand to the next for his father. He brings things to him and is waved off to find something else, only to do it again. In between helping gather the materials, he continues to feed the forge. He has added at least four logs since you arrived, surly that was plenty to keep the fire raging, you think but truthfully you know little about blade work and forging swords.

Several more minutes pass, Loki and his mother are deeply engaged in conversation with the blacksmith who has easily convinced Loki to get a second set of knives. His sentry has disappeared into his own little world while you continue to observe everyone quietly as you stand near the door.

You stretch a bit and cover your mouth as a yawn slips free, you should really stop reading until the sun comes up, you scold yourself. Suddenly you stand up straighter and sniff the air again, breathing deeply. You can't quite place the smell but the heat from the forge has gotten stronger. Your eyes immediately find the boy who is frozen with fear as he looks into the fire.

Blue flames erupt from the metal and stone enclosure of the forge.

Without thinking, you move to the young boy and grab him by the arm, pulling him away from the rapidly growing flames. Once his feet start moving, you push him in the direction of the door and look for the queen. As soon as your gaze is away from the forge you hear metal grinding and a loud crack as the chimney buckles under the sudden and immense increase in temperature.

You look back to see the fire spark and spit embers onto the sawdust spread over the floor. Walking backwards from the forge, your eyes move up as the fire spreads to the roof of the structure. Smoke quickly begins to fill the air and your eyes sting as you fight to keep them open. You watch in horror as one of the rafters on the ceiling splinters from the flames and you run towards the queen, you know the building won't be standing much longer.

You keep your arm around her waist until you've guided her safety outside. She takes a few steps away from you and sits heavily on the grass, coughing from the smoke. You look back towards the burning building, the roof already partially collapsed as the trusses are destroyed by the flames.

Smoke billows out of the open door and you quickly turn to count that everyone is out. The queen, the blacksmith, his son, Loki's sentry... but not Loki.

"Loki!" you scream, scanning the field in front of you in the hopes that you somehow missed him. You rush to his sentry who is on his hands and knees coughing and gasping for fresh air. "Where is he!?" you demand.

He shakes his head and doesn't respond, you grab his arm and pull forcefully, making him look up at you. You can see the fearful tears in his eyes but his feelings are not your concern, not while Loki is still missing. "Private, where is the prince?!"

"I don't know," he cries. "I just- I just ran- I don't-" you let go of his arm and turn from him, unable to listen to his excuses.

You look back to the fully engulfed building and without a moments hesitation, you run through the open door.

"Loki!" you call for him, you cough painfully as you inhale the ash and smoke. You crouch and shield your eyes as the glass in one of the windows near you shatters. "Loki!" you scream as loud as your lungs will allow. You move forward, towards where he had been when you last saw him with his mother.

You cough harder as the flames surround you and you get low to crawl under the ever thickening smoke. "Loki!" you scream again, your heart racing as tears stream down your cheeks, making it harder to see.

"Y/N," you hear Loki faintly over the crackling of the fire and get up to run towards his voice.

Your heart pounds in your chest when you see him, trapped under part of a collapsed beam. He struggles to lift the large piece of wood, it's edges blackened by the flames growing closer. You grab the end of the beam nearest to Loki and lift while he pushes, it moves but not enough. Your grip slips and he screams in pain from the sudden movement. Your eyes fix on the blood that slowly starts to gather at the corners of his mouth, adjusting your grip you get ready to try again.

Before you and Loki can make a second attempt, a nearby section of the roof collapses. You instinctively use your own body as protection against the falling debris shielding his face and upper body, you hold back a cry as ash falls onto the exposed skin on the back of your neck.

"Y/N, please get out of here," he tells you, his voice hoarse when you sit up.

You shake your head no and tell him, "I won't leave without. Help me lift this."

Again, he pushes with what little strength he has left and you pull with every bit of strength you can gather. The beam moves enough that you can free him. You grab Loki under his arms and pull, he cries out every inch until he is fully clear of the beam. It devastates you to cause him pain but you have no choice. You wipe your tears on your arm and without letting go of him, you tell him you are sorry but you can't stop. You know if you do, neither of you will make it out.

You lay Loki on the grass behind the burning building, ignoring the sound of a wall giving way and kneel next to him. His fingers are dripping with blood as he reaches for you.

"Y/N," he says softly but you shake your head and avoid his gaze. You are too scared to look at him, you know he wants to tell you goodbye.

"I need to stop the bleeding," you say with as much determination and hope as you can force. You move to check his chest wounds and your heart shatters, your mind spins in shock and disbelief as you rip open the rest of his torn and bloody shirt. "No no no," you mumble to yourself in denial.

You move your hands to his chest in desperation, trying to cover the largest break in his skin but his fingers close softly around your wrist, keeping you from touching his wounds. Looking into his eyes, in a gentle tone he simply says, "Stop." His grip on your wrist loosens but you can't accept that there is nothing you can do for him.

You shake your head no again, "Please Loki..."

He tries his best to smile but the blood in his mouth makes him cough violently. You move so you can gently rest his head on your lap and you run your fingers through his hair damp. He raises his hand again to stroke your cheek and you close your eyes at his touch.

"Y/N," he says just above a whisper and you lean closer to hear him. "I knew you would come for me," he coughs and spits out a bit of blood. "You always followed me..." his voice trails off.

You smile through your tears and tell him, "I will follow you anywhere, I promised you that I would."

He continues to slowly stroke your cheek, wiping away your tears but leaving a light trail of his blood, "I'm sorry my love, but where I go now you cannot follow."

"No, Loki please," you cry, "I love you."

"I will always love you Y/N, more than anything in the nine realms," he says softly as his breath grows still and shallow.

"Stay with me," you plead, taking his hand in yours. "You're all I have left. Please stay with me," you beg him. "I love you. Please don't go, Loki, please."

His fingers slip from yours and you look down at his lifeless body, your chest tightens as you struggle to breath. You feel as if your heart is physically breaking, the pain is unbearable and consuming. "I'm so sorry Loki," you apologize over and over. "I was supposed to protect you, I should have protected you. I'm sorry, please."

"Loki! Loki!" the queen's voice rips through your grief and guilt as the rest of the building collapses, the fire still raging. You look up and see Frigga running towards her son, her eyes full of fear which turns to anguish as they met yours.

Getting up, you walk slowly backwards, your body on autopilot as you distance yourself from mother and son. She let's out an agonizing scream, a sound you will never forget, as she falls to her knees next to her youngest son. She cradles him in her arms and kisses his forehead, whispering to him as she rocks slowly.

You stand motionless a few feet from Loki's body and his mother, your breathing becoming more ragged as your chest tightens. You barely register the dozen or so workers who struggle to keep the fire from spreading across the field or the soldiers running with Thor.

"Mother! Loki!" Thor calls as he sprints around what is left of the building, desperately searching for his family. He gets closer and stops suddenly when he sees his younger brother laying in his mother's arms.

Frigga looks over her shoulder and Thor begins to slowly walk towards her, you can do nothing but watch his expression change as the reality of what he is seeing hits him. As he gets closer, she looks back down at Loki, wiping away some of the blood from his face gently. Thor kneels besides her, his hand on her back and she quietly says, "Loki is gone."

Your knees buckle at her words and you collapse onto the grass. You cover your face with your hands as your body shakes violently from the force of your sobs.

Loki is gone, your thoughts echo the queen's words. Loki is gone and it is your fault, your guilt adds. Loki is gone and you couldn't save him. Loki is gone but he shouldn't be. Loki is gone but you were supposed to give your life for his. Loki is gone.

You stand at attention in the center of the throne room in front of the royal family, the council and every high ranking officer from the royal guard. You keep your eyes straight ahead, focusing on a small detail on the wall beyond Odin as he speaks. You are too afraid to look anywhere else but slowly your focus drifts to the queen and where Loki used to stand.

She holds Thor's arm for support, her gaze fixed to the marble floor beneath her. Your chest aches at the sight of the queen in her black mourning gown and you hate yourself for wishing you could wear one as well.

This morning, every soldier in the royal guard was given a thin black piece of fabric to tie around their arm in memory of the lost prince. For five minutes, you struggled to tie it properly before a fellow sentry finally offered to help you. The members of your unit and palace staff no longer made mocking comments about the favoritism Loki showed for you but they would never understand the depth of your grief.

As a sentry, it was against protocol for you to show any emotion while on duty and that was especially true in your case. As far as the king and council were concerned, you meant nothing to Loki and it was made clear to you yesterday that you were not to mourn for him publicly. A part of you didn't care, what could they do to punish you that was worse then the hell you were currently living in. You didn't have the strength to disobey the king, however, it took every ounce of strength you had to simply get out of bed each morning. So here you stand, surrounded by nearly a hundred people, trying with all your might to keep from falling completely and utterly apart.

Frigga slowly looks up and your breath catches when you see the tears in her eyes. She doesn't seem to see you though, it is almost as if she is looking through you, her mind unfocused on the ceremony taking place.

You force yourself to pay attention to Odin as he continues his speech about what is being called "a tragic accident". The phrase sounds like nails scrapped across metal to you and you brace yourself so as not to shiver every time you hear it.

You were still not sure what exactly caused the fire to burn uncontrollably but it was quickly determined that the boy meant no one harm. He and his father had been cleared by the council of any wrong doing and were granted a small sum to rebuild their forge. You wish the boy well and hope he isn't being plagued by nightmares as you are.

Loki's sentry, however, is to be sentenced this afternoon. The day after the fire, he was brought up on numerous charges and subsequently dishonorably discharged from the royal guard. You had stood as a witness at his hearing, forced to recount every detail of that horrific day.

You hear Odin droning on but your mind can't seem to absorb what he is saying. You continue to watch him though, knowing it's almost time for you to play the part of the noble hero.

He gestures for you to step forward and you follow his command, kneeling when you are just a few steps from him. He walks towards you and says, "Lieutenant Y/L/N, you are being awarded the Medal of Royal Protection for your actions during the tragic accident three days ago. This honor is bestowed upon sentries who have risked their lives to save, and attempt to save, a member of the royal family. Thanks to your bravery, my wife, Asgard's queen was escorted to safety."

He pauses, his eyes finding Frigga before he turns back to the crowd of soldiers and council members gathered around you. "We are all heartbroken over the loss of Prince Loki. My son's life was woefully cut short... far too short," his voice trails off for a moment and you think he may let his emotions show but he clears his throatand continues. "But that does not overshadow your extraordinary act of heroism. You risked your life by going into a burning building and in doing so, you have given us the chance to say goodbye to Prince Loki properly, which is what he deserves."

Your throat feels like it is closing, your eyes sting as you fight desperately to keep the gathering tears from slipping free. Your head pounds as you prepare to receive a medal for saving the queen but not saving Loki.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N," he motions for you to stand. He takes a round golden medal with a red ribbon from a council member and pins it to your dress uniform. "Asgard and I thank you for your continued commitment to protecting and serving the royal family," he says and you feel nauseated by the applause that spreads through the throne room.

This is the song that inspired me, if you listen to the end you will see why. Again... I'm sorry to everyone who reads this that I hurt you but I just needed to get this story out of my head. If you want the happy ending version please read the original part 3 (linked at the top) 💙💙

If you did like this, please like, comment and share! Thanks! 💚💚

@siconetribal @soubi001 @lulubelle814 @newtomofgods

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