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moodymisty · 2 days ago

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𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝕺𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝕸𝖊 (𝕮𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖑𝖐𝖆𝖓)

Part 4 of 5 - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Choose Ralkan, Choose Lev soon

Author's Note: When I said you'll get to have your cake and eat it too, I meant it. Time for a 1 part choose your husband adventure, enjoy. Here's Ralkan's path, Lev's will be up soon. Enjoy getting your big salamander schlonging ;3

Summary: A Night Lord becomes interested in you while you stand under the eyes of your Salamander guardian, and you find yourself stuck between two titans.

Relationships:Yandere Salamander/Fem!Reader/Yandere Night Lord

Warnings: NSFW, Somewhat detailed mentions of gore and violence but not super graphic, Mentions of sex being kind of painful, You fuck missionary and that's filthy disgusting, Yandere, Size differences, Very toxic suffocating relationship(s), Some knight/princess dynamics, Demeaning language, Both these guys have hero complexes, Violence, Blood and bruises

Word Count: 3340

Backed into the corner with fear running through your veins like fuel, you instinctively look to your guardian.

Ralkan's entire body is stiff, his face loosing the softness that you're familiar with. He's stoic and emotionless, eyes darting around the small room. He's trying to best navigate the scenario, eyes locking with yours for the shortest of moments.

There's a coldness behind them- With this part of his mind brought to the forefront you can see his emotions have been tuned down, and you're an asset to be protected.

Lev has a similar level of hostility and coldness to him, but he hides it behind a facade of casualness. As if he's attempting to wavier the Salamander, raising his shoulders and seeming wider and stronger than he might actually be.

Lev is significantly sized in comparison to the other Night Lords you've glimpsed, but compares not to the size of a mature Salamander like Ralkan, who has a not insignificant of height on him.

"You aren't going to try and fight me with her in the room, are you? And risk her getting crushed in the mayhem?"

Lev's smile is insincere and filled with teeth, his voice coated in a teasing tone to it that rings totally hollow.

He unsettles you.

No matter his acts before, Ralkan was right that it was more than likely all a ruse to let him in without your guardian knowing. To sow your distrust of him and keep the one man capable of keeping you from him out of the way.

You were more than likely just an entertaining plaything; Being bat around in the paws of a cat. That separating you two was just part of the game, like Ralkan had told you all along.

There's something so deeply wrong with him that he makes you nauseous. The scent of rotten flesh stuck in the grooves of his armor is nothing compared to the way he looks at you with nothing but black behind his eyes, unable to tell what he's thinking about doing to you.

But no matter how much you want to no longer have his interest, to apologize to Ralkan and beg him to take you in his arms again, you know that Lev will still pull up a significant fight for the elder Salamander.

You don't want him to get hurt, even if it's in his nature; The very thing he was created for. It's an instinctive worry. Anything Lev would do wouldn't be just a nick either, the Night Lord is more than capable of doing significant damage.

The room is a bomb about to blow, and you know one of them isn't making it out alive if they begin to fight.

“Both of you, just-“

Lev suddenly makes a move for you as you speak, as if you directly called out to him. Before he can do anything Ralkan rushes him, in an attempt to sucker punch the Night Lord. He can't punch any part of him that isn't covered by armor as he approaches from behind, and so switches to grabbing his left pauldron and throwing him against the opposite wall of you to try and open him up for something that will do damage. It pulls Lev away from you either, and you fearfully attempt to meld with the wall and keep out of the way.

The two transhuman men begin to trade real blows, The Night Lord avoiding a punch thrown by the Salamander with far more deftness than you would ever think possible in such massive armor. Ralkan was quite quick in his armor the few times you saw him grapple in the training rings, but the Night Lord has a decent level of speed over him as the smaller and lighter of the two. Ceramite clanks into ceramite with dull, ringing thuds as Ralkan grapples the Night Lord and throws him from the room, firmly placing him in between you and Lev as well as widening the distance- pushed out the door and into the hall. The two continue fighting there and you rush out after them, as serfs started to gather and gawk at either end of the hall.

Salamanders and Night Lords had been fighting aboard the ship since the ladder's arrival, but most had been very small spats or merely verbal altercations. No one had yet to see a full brawl between two astartes, with the intent to maim and kill.

Some Salamander neophytes come and hear the commotion. They both know they stand no chance getting between two full grown Astartes, and don’t engage. One of them even reaches for you, a face you vaguely recognize from one of the times you followed Ralkan to the training rings. His hand grabs your bicep, attempting to tug you back.

“Lady Remembrancer get back!”

He yells at you, before turning to his fellow. His hand is still somewhat loosely around your arm. You pull at it and watch as Lev punches Ralkan directly in the face, and you see blood splatter down the bow of his upper lip. It doesn't slow the Salamander down, but the sight of him being visibly hurt makes your throat close and stomach turn in nauseating twists.

The speed at which they fight makes seeing who is winning this difficult, you can barely tell if any of them are actually hurt beyond very superficial armor damage.

"Let go!"

Your demand goes completely unheard by the neophyte holding you back, as he turns to his companion and yells.

“Get Captain Ralkan!”

His fellow, slightly smaller in stature, points to Ralkan and hisses back before you have a chance to point out who exactly is fighting the Night Lord.

“That is Captain Ralkan!”

You all turn your heads at the sound of a chainsword- who’s you don’t know- letting out a waking rip. The neophytes settle to search for any brother superior they can find, even Vulkan himself if they must, as Ralkan throws Lev further down the hall.

They’re out of sight, a cold rush of fear like ice water dunked on your runs through your veins.

“You need to stay back, it isn’t-“

You try to wrench yourself from his grip, and make no progress at first. But he he isn't a full Astartes yet, and lacks the strength to hold against your manic twisting and clawing at his hand. You manage to free your arm just as you hear the sound of a chainsword making contact with and then digging through ceramite.

“Ralkan!”

Rushing down the hall screaming his name, you hear more armor plates clanging against each other. A chainsword is hideously scraping against metal, and you barrel past the corner of the hall. You can hear the chain of it chutter and catch as flesh clogs it's mechanics, before the wielder lets go of the throttle and it lets out a panting, steaming exhaust as it slows.

When you turn the corner you see Ralkan on one knee, a massive pool of astartes blood coagulating near him. His chainsword is just finally slowing to a full stop, thick blood dripping from the teeth.

It has to be Lev's- but the Night Lord has vanished.

With him gone you rush forward, slowing when Ralkan looks up at you. Blood dribbles down his lips and chin, and you can see from how his lips are just barely parted in a pant that he has blood inside his mouth as well.

His eyes look to you and almost through you- cold and dark- before letting of his chainsword and walking towards you. His boots slam heavily against the ground, clearly a bit worn from the fight. Lev’s blood coats his gauntlets, staining your skin with red as he kneels in front of your and cups your jaw with both massive hands.

“Thank the Emperor that you are safe.”

His hands hold your face tight, loving expression contrasted by the blood splatters of both is own and the blood of someone whom you assumed he caused grevious bodily harm to smeared across his face.

“Every moment I was filled with regret for letting you ever leave my sight. I failed my duty letting him get so close.”

Your hands grip the collar of his chestplate, feeling the splatters of blood on it and the coolness of the ceramite. It's a sticky, uncomfortable feeling, but you don't fully think on it in the heat of the moment.

"Are you ok?"

You say, looking at him for wounds. His face is swollen slightly on one side like he's going to bruise, but other than the blood that was once rushing down from his nose, he seems mostly unharmed. At your worried inquiry he laughs at you, face beginning to return to that softness you're familiar with.

You'll still remember this coldness however; The look in his eyes during the few moments you saw them during his fight with Lev was frighteningly similar to the Night Lord's.

"You were almost stolen away by an astartes and used as a plaything, and you ask if I am well?" Ralkan leans in, and puts his forehead to yours.

"I am truly lucky to have you."

Safe in his arms and with him alive in front of you, the racing of your heart finally begins to slow down. Most of the serfs have already scattered, and the neophytes had run off to fetch a superior. You presume Ralkan will have to explain what happened to one of his fellow, but you imagine with behavior of the Night Lords, he won't be getting in very much trouble.

"Let us go to the apothecary. I want to make sure you are unharmed. Him having any amount of time with you alone has me worried for you. I want to be sure you are well."

He rises to his feet, swiping up his chainsword, before taking your hand in his gauntlet and bringing you along with him as he walks; Blood still smeared across his face the entire way.

-Three Terran months later -

"Ralkan?"

You gently call his name, watching as he turns to you. He's doing maintenance on something you can't quite see, his body obscuring most of it as well as the sleep derived blurriness in your eyes.

"Yes? Do you need something?"

You rise up in his cot- your cot as well, since recently. All of your things have been consolidated into Ralkan's quarters, bringing a sense of liveliness to the room that it had originally lacked.

It's a bit more cramped in here, but Ralkan doesn't seem to mind.

“Isn’t my time here coming to an end once we return to Terra?”

Ralkan makes a noise. Putting down what you now can see is his bolter, he walks over to you and sits on the edge of his cot. His hand rests on the outline of your upper thigh overtop of the blankets.

"I spoke with my battle brothers, and we agreed upon keeping the remembrancers aboard the ship permanently, rather than for this single deployment. With their agreement of course. So you're departure is not mandatory."

So you can stay; Provided that you want to. You don't entirely know why you think saying no would be an option, however.

After all, why would you leave? You've never been safer than you are here, with two or sometimes thee meals a day when Ralkan can manage it, and a Salamander who has dedicated himself to your wellbeing.

More than just your wellbeing as well. His hand rests intimately at the apex of your thigh and the look he gives you is soft- one meant for the private air between two lovers.

You haven't considered leaving, but for some reason this entire line of thought is churning your stomach in a way you can't explain. That hesitancy is caught by Ralkan however, who's expression changes to one that's more questioning, as his brown eyes rake over your face.

"Why?" He questions, his hand still weighting heavy on your leg. "Are you considering wanting to leave?"

Something in his expression changes yet again. You quickly shake your head.

"No no, I was only wondering."

He smiles, one of his braids sliding over his shoulder to frame his face.

"Good. I don't know how I could be without you. I will do anything to make sure every need of yours is met while we are on the Flamewrought."

Ralkan has spoiled you since the first days you met him, and he's only gotten worse so since he dragged you into his heart. The food he gifts you is the best he can muster, and you can tell you've grown a bit softer. A few hours of extra sleep is nice as well, though sometimes you begin to feel guilty about staying in his quarters for so long, sleeping his training hours away.

You brought it up once and he told you he didn't mind, and encouraged you to do so. That you could should stay in his quarters as long as you want, and keep yourself happy and healthy for him.

Leaning down towards you he presses his lips to your own, easily pushing you gradually until your back hits the bed. Ralkan's massive body covers your own, and your heart already starts to beat a bit faster.

You taste him on your lips as they part for him, his slightly larger mouth awkwardly moving against yours. He's still a bit unfamiliar with the concept, but as with astartes he lacks the embarrassment of unfamiliarity; Learning quickly from you and your noises of enjoyment or discomfort.

You remember the first time you both were together, as it had started the same way; With him leaning forward and pushing you down onto the bed with a kiss.

"You," He hesitated for a moment, as if almost unsure. "You will tell me if I am too rough with you, yes?"

He watched as you silently nodded, your body laid out underneath him like the metal string of a beautiful hand crafted necklace.

"Good. I don't want to ever hurt you." His lips brushed over yours as he spoke, the overwhelming heat that his body made warming you up exponentially.

"I am new to this, I will admit. Show me how best to please you."

Though even if he didn't want to hurt you, he still had.

Your ribs and hips had bruises, your muscles ached like you'd ran miles. Ralkan is a massive man, and didn't quite understand how slow he truly needed to be. How to manage his strength for such a delicate dance. Your cunt still ached with a painful throbbing the day after, even if in the moment, it had been more pleasurable that you could've ever dreamed of it being.

His lips pulling away from yours he still hovers close, heavy chest pressed against yours and pinning you to the bed. His lips ghost over yours and you can feel his hot breath fan over your face, arms wrapping around his neck.

"I'm assuming I'll still have to call you Captain Ralkan around your brothers, correct?"

Ralkan loves the use of formality, to be your captain. In a way however, it sometimes almost feels demeaning; Like he wants to hear you're lesser and need him.

“Good girl, good girl,”

He says, as he slowly forced his way inside of you. You grimaced and writhed, as your body struggled to let him in. Even with as wet as you were, with how much you ached for him and wanted him, your muscles still wanted to push his inhumanly large size out. Even the pop of his cockhead past your entrance had been painful, you'd let out a painful hiss that made Ralkan freeze.

You could see the unfathomable amount of restraint that it had taken him. His hips were tense and you could hear the sound of the cot straining under his grip as he squeezed the life from it.

"Are you alright?"

You nodded to him in response, letting out the breath you'd been holding as you grew used to this amount of stretch. You desperately attempted to let your body relax, and just allow him in.

"Yes, it's just, it's just so tight,"

He pushed deeper, your nails digging into his shoulders. It was only an ache until the last bit- the thick base of his cock forced you even wider and caused you to gasp and kick one of your legs.

His hand rubbed your waist, his lips brushing across your face in almost kisses as he whispered endearing and encouraging words to you.

“Relax, I’m almost there.”

He was slow, you could hear the small hiss he let out as your cunt clenched around him so incredibly tight and tested his patience. Your thighs had to be spread out with an aching stretch to accommodate his hips, feet dangling in the air uselessly.

Your body wasn't meant for someone of his size. He wasn't meant for you. It wasn't natural, but he was going to slowly force it inch by inch.

With one more slow advance his hips finally pressed against the back of your thighs, and he was fully seated inside of you. You could feel the weight of his balls against your ass, and the huff of hot air over your face as he leaned his hips into you with less restraint now that he was fully inside. His deep voice in your ear made you shiver, braids tickling your face.

"Good girl, that was it. You took all of me. You're so small, but I knew you could."

It almost felt like you couldn't breath, with big he was; How deep he could push himself inside of you. When he moved it was like the head of his cock was bumping against your lungs and knocking the wind out of them, pelvis aching with the massive intrusion. The feeling faded as he started to thrust in and out of you, the slap of skin on skin drowning out your whimpers. His cock reached deeper than anything had ever been inside of you, and the ache in your lower stomach began to fade and turn into a pleasurable fullness instead.

When he came inside of you it was an even more intense feeling; The amount he left inside of you was unfathomable and dripped from your stretched hole when he pulled himself from you, though he hadn't left you empty for long after.

You loved Ralkan, you never doubted wanting him like this. The love he made with you was wonderful but you could always feel after the scars and bruises he left behind, like he was slowly remaking you for just himself.

You'd joked about that once. About his size. He'd just smiled, kissing you on the nose and said to stop saying such silly things. You were already made for him.

Ralkan now pulls his lips away from you, and you can see the shine of your own spit against them.

"Don't go thinking such things. You don't need to go a single place that isn't here."

He gifts another kiss to your forehead, his body caging your feeling a bit more suffocating that perhaps you might like, but not enough to say something.

"I must meet with my fellow captains. I will be back as soon as I can. Rest a bit more, I will bring food back for you."

He moves to get up from the cot, but not before adjusting the blanket that had gotten ruffled a bit in his affection for you.

"Can you get me some water also?" You ask him, feeling a bit of dryness in your throat. He smiles.

"Of course, my love."

He gives you a glance goodbye before leaving his quarters to meet with his fellow high ranking astartes, and as you lay your head back sideways on the pillow to curl up and nap, you hear the distinctive sound of the door locking behind him.

#space marine x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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gojozballs · 13 hours ago

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Gojo x Reader x Geto "Squid Game"

Warning: [This story contains Yandere themes, possessive and obsessive behavior, graphic violence, gunshots, and blood]

Materialist

Part 3

In a deadly game where survival is the only option, Y/N, with a painful injury, relies on her two protective boyfriends, Satoru and Suguru, to navigate the perilous chaos, unaware that the true threat lies right beside her

Y/n's POV

Once again, I find myself in the room, a place where survival doesn't mean fighting for our lives at least, not yet. The air around me feels sterile, yet suffocating. It's a toxic mix of dread and denial that clings to the walls and presses on my chest as we sit to eat the tiny portion of food. My head spins as I try to process everything: the deaths, the sacrifices, the mind-numbing futility of it all. Lives lost in an instant, snuffed out like they never mattered.

And yet, the worst part? The nagging fear that my boyfriends might be next. The thought twists my stomach into knots.

God, I feel so fucking stupid for even being here.

“Hey, baby. What’s got you so lost in thought?” Suguru’s voice cuts through the haze, his arm draping around my shoulders like it can shield me from the weight of reality.

Satoru glances back, his striking blue eyes gleaming with that familiar mischievous glint. “Just so we’re clear,” he announces, loud enough for the whole room to hear, “I’m not sharing my food.” His voice is so random, so absurd that I can’t help but chuckle despite everything.

Suguru snorts, clearly unamused. “You’re full of shit. Didn’t you just feed her your food last time?”

“I was only talking about you, babe,” Satoru grins, his eyes twinkling as he shoves a piece of bread into my mouth with far too much confidence.

They’re always like this joking, bickering, pushing each other's buttons. Even here, in the middle of a deadly game. It’s both a comfort and a curse. Because when they shift gears? When the game begins? They turn into something else entirely. Something terrifying.

“I hope we win this time,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “I just want to leave. I don’t want any more of this.”

Satoru hums, popping a bread into his mouth and eyeing me with that devil-may-care smile. "Well, let’s just pray the ones who begged to stay already met their unfortunate end..”

I frown, the bitter taste of unease crawling up my throat, but before I can say anything, Suguru adds, so casually, “We made sure at least one of them did.”

My heart drops, the food in my mouth suddenly sour. “What… what do you mean?”

Satoru smirks, leaning his chin on his hand like this is some inside joke I’m too slow to understand. “Don’t overthink it, sweetcheeks. Some people just aren’t cut out for survival.” His tone is smooth, but there’s a cold edge beneath it that sends a shiver down my spine.

Were they serious? Or were they messing with me? I can’t tell anymore, and that’s what scares me the most.

Dread

"The votings will now begin..." The announcement echoes through the room, a chill running down my spine. A heavy silence fills the air as everyone rises, some frantically whispering their last prayers, others nervously laughing, awaiting their fate. The tension is suffocating.

"How cruel," I mutter under my breath, my gaze flicking to the men beside me. I can feel the weight of their presence, their proximity pulling me in, both comforting and suffocating.

“Y/N, you’re standing too far away from us,” Suguru’s voice cuts through the murmur of voices, his hand suddenly on my arm, pulling me closer. I’m wedged between him and Satoru, the pressure of their bodies making my breath hitch. It’s protective, possessive like they’re making sure no one can get too close.

I should be grateful, right? But there's a strange gnawing unease in the pit of my stomach. What if something happens to them? What if I can’t keep them safe?

Before I can get lost in my own thoughts, it’s my turn to vote. I take a shaky breath as I step toward the platform, the chaos around me escalating people shouting, crying, pleading. The noise is overwhelming. But I don’t care. I press the red button with a trembling hand. I just want out of this place, away from the madness, the fear.

Then

A collective groan, followed by cheers and cries, fills the room as the decision is made. We’re staying. Another round. Tears sting my eyes, and before I can stop myself, they spill over. I hiccup, my sobs coming in uneven gasps, and I can't hide them anymore.

“Hey, hey, sweetie,” Suguru’s voice is soft, a contrast to the storm of emotions inside me. His hand tilts my chin up, his gaze intense as he meets my eyes. “It’s okay. It’s okay, shhh…” He pulls me into his arms, but no matter how tight he holds me, I can’t feel at ease. I want to scream. I want to make it stop.

“I got you both into this,” I whisper, my voice barely a breath. “You two always protect me, but… but I’m the one putting you at risk.”

Suguru and Satoru exchange a look, but their faces are unreadable, a shared understanding flickering between them. Suguru pulls back, his hands still cupping my face, his touch gentle but firm. He wipes away my tears, his gaze softening, but there's an underlying intensity I can't quite place.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice low, every word wrapped in something that feels almost… dangerous. “Look at us. We’re here because we want to be. We chose to be with you, and we’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if that means playing these games again and again.”

His thumb brushes over my cheek, the softness of the gesture masking the unspoken promise in his words.

“Besides,” Satoru interjects with a smirk, his attempt at lightening the mood falling flat. There’s something darker in his eyes, something calculating. “have you seen me out there? I’m a pro at this. You’ve got the best of the best protecting you, baby.”

I try to smile, but it doesn’t reach my heart. How could I not love them? They’re the only thing keeping me anchored in this nightmare.

"Sweetcheeks” Satoru adds, his voice dropping, his tone laced with something darker. “This is our decision. To be with you. To protect you. Nothing else matters. Understand?”

Before I can ask how they even got here, how they managed to bypass the system, I’m struck by the nagging thought that keeps haunting me. They’re too loaded with money to have been invited into a game meant for people desperate for cash. I can’t fathom how they managed to slip past the system, how they of all people could end up in a place like this.

The thought lingers, a sickening twist in my stomach, but before I can voice my confusion, we’re interrupted by the announcement of the next game. My heart thunders in my chest. I want to stay lost in their presence, to bury the questions and unease that are gnawing at me, but I know I can’t let my guard down not in this place.

We’re ushered into a new room, and my eyes dart around. The doors are different colors reds, blues, blacks each one more unsettling than the last. It feels… off. I turn to Suguru and Satoru, hoping for some sign of reassurance, but their faces are unreadable, their eyes sharp and calculating.

“What game is this?” My voice trembles slightly, and I can’t hide the unease in my chest.

“This one’s easy,” Satoru says, his smirk returning, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The cold calculation in his gaze gives me a chill. They're already thinking ahead, plotting moves, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of fear. I swallow hard, my stomach tightening.

Then I see them. Yuuji and Nobara. Their bright smiles stand out like beacons in the gloom, their youthful innocence a stark contrast to the twisted world we’re trapped in.

“Y/N-oneesan! Thank god you're doing okay!” Nobara calls, her voice bright and innocent, as though none of this is real.

“Yeah and we’ll get through this game, together again!” I say, trying to muster some semblance of courage. I don’t want them to see the fear that’s clawing at me from the inside.

But before I can say anything more, the voice of the game master booms, cutting through the silence like a knife.

“The next game will be ‘Mingle.’ A number will be announced, and you must quickly find your group and enter a room before the countdown ends. Failure to do so will result in elimination.”

The words echoed in my mind, and the first thought that came to me was that I had to prioritize them Suguru and Satoru. I groaned inwardly, the weight of the situation settling on me. This game… once again, I was going to be a burden because of my leg injury.

Let The Game Begin

The platform beneath us begins to shift, spinning slowly, and I’m pulled against Satoru’s side. His arm around my waist tightens, holding me steady as chaos erupts all around us.

“Four!” the announcer’s voice booms, and without hesitation, Suguru grabs my hand. Together, the three of us dash toward the nearest door, just making it through before another man squeezes in behind us.

Before I can catch my breath, Satoru pulls me into a dark corner, his body pressing close against mine. “Stay close, sweetcheeks,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with something dangerous and sweet, all at once.

The man inches forward, his eyes darting nervously between us. I glance at Suguru, who stands still, eyes locked onto the guy with an almost predatory focus.

"Two!"

The number echoes through the speakers, and my heart drops to my stomach. I gasp, spinning around to face them. “Y-you guys go with each other!” I shout, but my words feel useless. It’s like they’ve already planned it out in their heads, without even a glance at each other. Suguru doesn’t even hesitate he scoops me up into his arms, while Satoru bolts off in the opposite direction.

“NO! Please! Satoru! Suguru, just go with him!” I scream, my voice catching in panic. But they don’t listen. They’re already committed.

Suguru carries me into a nearby room, his grip firm yet oddly gentle, as if he’s trying to soothe me while everything around us falls apart. “Oh my god, Satoru…” I whisper, trembling uncontrollably, my mind racing.

“Shhh, baby, it’s Satoru. It’ll be okay,” Suguru’s voice is calm, but I can hear the edge in it he’s trying to reassure me, but even he knows there’s nothing really okay about this. I try to steady my breath, clinging to him for comfort.

“But what if—” I begin, only to be immediately cut off by Suguru’s voice, low but firm.

“You’ll hurt his ego if you think he’ll die over this. He’s not like them,” Suguru says, his words wrapping around me like a protective shield. But I can’t shake the feeling gnawing at me what if?

The sound of gunshots rings through the air, sharp and fast. My heart skips a beat, and I flinch, sinking into Suguru’s embrace as if it will somehow block out the noise. But it doesn’t. The gunfire continues, and my body trembles even harder.

Suguru holds me tighter, his arms tightening around me, though it doesn’t shield me from the fear. The only comfort is the steady beat of his heart and the knowledge that, for now, I’m alive. Safe.

Back in the platform a familiar voice cuts through the chaos, booming and undeniably confident. “I’m wounded, sweetcheeks. You think I’ll die over a game like this? Don’t lump me with them.” Satoru’s voice is loud, mocking the tension, even as the sounds of fighting continue around us.

Suguru growls in response, irritation flickering across his features. “Quiet it down, cocky bastard,” he mutters, his tone just as dangerous as Satoru’s bravado.

Despite the chaos unfolding around us, I can’t help but smile softly at Satoru’s voice, a sense of relief flooding through me. He’s alive. And that’s enough for now.

I don’t care about the judging stares or the whispers of the others. My hands find Satoru’s arms, gently caressing them, tracing the muscles I know so well. It’s my way of grounding myself in the moment. He’s here. He’s alive.

“Six!” The number rings out, but all I can hear are the panicked voices around me, the chaos intensifying. My heart races as I spot Yuuji and Nobara dashing toward us. “Yuuji! Nobara!” I shout, and they sprint over to us, barely slowing down before we all head toward the nearest door.

Suguru and Satoru are right behind us, each of them carrying an elderly woman between them. I breathe heavily in relief. Thank god they’re okay.

“Y/N oneesan, thank god you're safe!” Nobara's voice is full of worry as we hug, but my gaze drifts to the old lady in Suguru and Satoru’s arms, her frail body barely reacting to the chaos around her.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” I ask gently, but she doesn’t respond. Her face is pale, and I feel a pang of guilt. It’s like she’s completely checked out, her mind lost in some place far from this madness.

I can’t help but feel sorry for her, but then my thoughts shift back to the game. I just want my boyfriends to be safe, and honestly, that’s all that matters right now. I’m happy as long as they’re with me, but this game is getting worse with every passing minute.

When will this end? Are they planning to wipe us all out? The thought gnaws at the back of my mind, and I can’t help but feel the tension tightening around my chest.

The situation is spiraling out of control. People are fighting over doors now, desperate and vicious, as if they think that a door will be their ticket to survival. The fear is palpable, and it’s only growing.

"Three!" The number blares through the air, and before I can even react, Satoru grabs me, pulling me along with him as Suguru runs alongside us. Yuuji and Nobara split off, each taking their own path, but my mind is too clouded to follow them. All I can focus on is the one thing I can’t control.

“The doors!” I scream, panic flooding my chest as I watch them one by one slam shut.

“There!” Suguru yells, his voice sharp with frustration. His eyes dart to the door ahead of us, wide open, a moment of hope flashing across his face. We make a dash for it, only to come face-to-face with a man already inside.

“It’s taken!” I scream, my hands trembling as I turn, ready to find another exit.

But Satoru’s voice, cool and calm, interrupts me. “No, it’s not.”

I look up at him in confusion as he leads us inside. The countdown is nearing its end, and I can already hear the doors locking trapping us all inside with no way out.

“What do you mean? We’ll get killed if we’re more than three!” I say, my voice rising in panic.

Satoru chuckles, low and dangerously playful, his hands pulling me closer. “Baby, why don’t you just give me a hug?” His voice is teasing, but there’s an edge to it, a darkness hiding beneath the surface. I stare at him in confusion, but before I can respond, his arms wrap around me tightly, pulling my face into his chest. My heart pounds as his grip tightens, his presence overwhelming.

But then, it happens. I hear it the faint, desperate sounds of a man begging, pleading, “Pl-please, no!” My body goes numb, the blood draining from my face as I realize what’s happening. Suguru is going to kill him. I try to pull away, to stop it, but the door locks behind us. There’s nothing I can do.

The sounds of struggling of someone’s life slipping away—fill the room. I feel the urge to shout, to scream, to stop this madness, but it’s like I’m paralyzed. The door’s locked, my body frozen in place, but my mind races.

Why does this feel so... normal? Is it just survival instinct? Or is it something darker?

Satoru pulls away, his hands gently brushing through my hair, and I glance up, my heart sinking into my stomach. The man on the floor is lifeless, his eyes wide in death, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.

“Y/N,” Suguru says softly, his voice almost tender as he approaches me. “It’s bound to happen.” His words should comfort me, but all I can feel is the growing weight of dread. I step back instinctively, and I don’t even realize it until I see the way Suguru’s gaze darkens.

“Are you scared of me?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper, but there's an intensity in it that makes my chest tighten. I can’t speak. I can’t even look at him.

“I... I...” I stammer, my voice faltering as I try to process everything. My eyes flick to the blood on Suguru’s face, and my stomach turns.

Suguru's voice, smooth and dark, cuts through the silence. “Y/N, you know what I said earlier, right? We’ll protect you, even if it means I have to kill again and again,” he says, his words light, almost playful. But there's a twisted edge to them that makes my skin crawl. Satoru spoke up reaching for me “It’s inevitable, baby. He was alone. He was going to die.” He smirks, his eyes glinting with something darker. “No biggie, sweetcheeks.”

No biggie? I feel my blood run cold, and my mind goes numb. Am I hearing this right?

I finally look up at them—Suguru with blood on his face, his eyes dark and unreadable, and Satoru, his expression that sickeningly serene smile, as if this is all part of some twisted game.

I’m scared. I’m so scared. The terror claws at my chest, making my hands shake. But... they’re safe. Right? Aren’t they?

They’re mine. They’ll protect me. But at what cost? As I stare at their faces Suguru’s sharp, calculating eyes and Satoru’s playful yet chilling smile I realize something deeper is happening.

I’m caught. Trapped between fear and longing, between the twisted desire to feel safe in their arms and the horrifying truth that safety comes with a price.

But then, as my heart races and my breath catches in my throat, I realize something else:

Isn’t this what I wanted? For them to be alive, no matter the cost?

#gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu satoru #geto suguru #gojo x reader x geto #suguru geto #geto x reader #jujutsu geto #jjk geto #satosugu

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tranceinnumerabletabs · 2 days ago

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When Johnny Comes Back pt11

Howdy again y'all! It's a pleasure to post another part of the story so many enjoy. I'm sorry if I diverge from canon too much?

tags: @supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl, and @beelzebee

part1, part2, part3, part4, part5, part6, part7,part8,part9,part10

His eyes shoot open “shit”

“What is it”

“….”

“What is it?” You ask more paranoid

“Nothing baby” he says quickly, eyes lost in thought

“What happened?” You ask more panicked. He looks at you and hesitates, no, looks resigned to what he must say

“It’s nothing” he insists through clenched teeth looking down, almost like it’s forced.

“Johnny please just tell m-“

“It’s nothing!" he snaps. You flinch in shock and worry covers your face. Soap looked so…conflicted.

You try to think of what to do, lost. Then you settle on just…sitting near him.

A bad silence shrouds the atmosphere. This wasn’t how you wanted to start your morning with the newly returned soldier. You feel the guilt in your stomach grow more and more. You just….didn’t think this would happen. You just snooped around a little because you were curious and…well…nervous. You never thought this would lead to this. You never knew what your roommate was up to. You, admittedly, dismissed a lot of the claims because:

a.a lot of misinformation are on these sketchy sites and b.you can never really know everything and c….you..didn’t want to believe it….silly but….unproven claims weren’t the first thing you wanted to think about when thinking of Johnny. No. When you saw those vague claims you didn’t think that the man who jokes about being in love with you was a war criminal. Those people be anyone. They could be the ones Johnny was fighting against, it the ones that shot him. Or…maybe it’s justified what they did due to unknown reasons…or…he didn’t know or it was out of his control. Can’t blame a soldier can you? Especially since Johnny tells you it’s just…well….he made his job sound boring sometimes. You’re beginning to think he just wanted to calm you down. He seemed like a calm guy so you believed him. Looking at Soap now? He’s tense, deep in thought and covering his mouth.

You reach out a hand to the pondering man and place it gently on his shoulder. “Hey” you softly say “look at me”

He tilts his head up, eyes troubled yet resigned somehow. “What can you tell me?” You offer, thumbing his collarbone. He places a hands on yours, leaning his head to it, deep in thought. He looks at you and cautiously says “it’s….something I thought I knew about someone I trust, turned out tae be true. Can’t figure out how anyone can know”

“So your friend’s secret was revealed?”

He nods “there shouldn’t be any way fer anyone tae find out fer sure….could be a lucky guess”

“Who did your friend tell about the secret?”

He shakes his head

“Not a soul to what I know.”

“Then how’d you know?”

“I didn’t. He never told me. I just….had a hunch. And it’s not like he doesn’t have his reasons”

“Was it a really bad thing?”

Silence for a moment.

“No. Bastard fucking deserved it.”

“Then why are you upset?”

“It’s….jus’….a surprise” and also no one should know, but it’s plausible to piece together.

“Does it make him worse in your eyes?”

Another silence

“….no. He did what he had to”

“Then did it make him better in your eyes?”

He thinks for a moment “aye. He took matters in his own hand.” His eyes, down and still contemplating the information, close tightly and his hand brings your hand to cup his face. He sighs, still upset about your knowledge.

“What do you think of me Bonny?”

You tilt your head in question. He opens his eyes and look at you “what do you think of me now?”

You’re silent, finding your answer. He doesn’t pressure you, feeling as if he’s telling you to take your time

“I….don’t know what’s the full truth about you. Everything I read is so vague, jumbled and confusing….” You trail off. He squeezes both your hands as encouragement to keep talking. His eyes glimmer with a sad desperation.

“….I don’t know what to make of this, Soap….even if you tell me the truth I have a feeling that’s not pretty either…” you stare off to the window somewhere. You don’t want to think you’ve entirely misjudged Johnny, and his saddened eyes just make you rethink a lot of things. You sigh “Johnny…I….” You shuffle a little “I still care for you...I wouldn’t want you anywhere in the world but here with me.”

He looked comforted by that, reassured that you’re not disgusted by him or think him responsible for some really bad shit.

“Tha’s good…” he sighs, still upset about you knowing anyway. He never wanted that hideous and cruel world seeping its stench into the paradise he’s created with you here. You lean into him more, offering your presence more fully. He looks at you with eyes that are a mix between his signature puppy eyes that always had you folding to his will and somber eyes that seem to apologize just for being here. He opens his mouth “I….” Sigh “I…”

“It’s okay Johnny….I’m sure it’ll all be okay…” He looks down, doubtful of your optimistic claim.

He stands up and looks down at you. He a big boy but he never felt intimidating to you. He was always the oversized golden retriever with a Mohawk who liked whiskey. You stand up too and hug him. “Never wanted ye tae s-“

“I know. But forget about all that. You’re home now”

He hugs back “I’ll clear yer name” he promises a while later. You nod “yes please.”

“And get rid of the agents”

“I’d like that. I’m sorry I ever got involved in this”

“I know….I’ll send this back to base…”

“Are you going to let your friend know about this?”

“Aye. If anyone should know it should be him”

“Good. He’ll appreciate it”

“Ye still love me right?”

You giggle bashfully at his choice in words.

“Why? Would you love me if I was a war criminal?”

“Aye, if Hitler had a wife I think I can have yer love”

“So you’re as bad as Hitler?” He groans. You lean up to kiss his cheek.

Then he grins “there’s my hero’s welcome”

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astralspen · 17 hours ago

Text

Something amazing about In Stars and Time is how it makes you feel what Siffrin feels.

And yes, when you go through Act 5 and everything breaks down that's cool.

But when Siffrin feels loved and safe, I think that's what's special. That's what makes this game and these characters so special to me.

As someone who, too, had a similar feeling of feeling unlovable for a very long time. This game really healed that part of me.

When the timeloops start, and Siffrin clings to being useful, you still feel little bits of love. Small, barely there, a little distanced, because Siffrin feels distanced. But it's still there. The party looks out for you, pays attention to you, makes stupid jokes with you.

As you go through, you feel love through Loop. Loop who despite all the teasing and bullying helps. Helps the person who they so wish they could be. The one who holds their own heart, who has the family they lost. Loop reaches out to you, reminds you, you're here, I see you. It hurts, but I see you. And I will always see you and sit with you. And I will keep you from becoming as detached as I did, whether that be by annoying you or having a heart to heart or just yapping in general.

You feel love from the head housemaiden. That cruel kind as she weeps for your situation, and crys tears you can not. As she apologizes over and over again. Euphrasies loves by showing you the painful kind of mercy, the one that stabs you in your heart and makes you want to scream, because she loves through pity. Through pitying you and your suffering. No matter how much it hurts it is love nonetheless.

And finally, in the end, after everything you've done, after everything you went through. You feel love again. This time in your face, so burning and bright that you can not ignore it, you feel loved from the very people you loved from the start. The party who runs in to save you, despite everything you said. Who tells you it's ok, you were going insane, we may be a little mad at what you said, but in the end that doesn't matter. Because we love you. And man, when they really showed the unconditional love, I was going to cry. Because a love like that, especially one with the party, is so hard to find. And it's so precious.

Finally, you see love, one more time. Twohats. The Loop fight. Loop, who is trying to kill you, Loop who is so jealous because that is the love they so wanted. They want their family back. Loop who despite everything. They still can't kill Siffrin. Siffrin, who despite being forced to fight again, who could drop dead at any moment because of his craft exhaustion, refuses to oblige Loops request. They both refuse to kill. Because they still love each other. Siffrin who pulls Loop into a hug, and apologizes. Apologizes to who they once were, the Siffrin who should've gotten this. The one who had their family and their heart stolen from them. The Siffrin who never got to feel love. He thanks who they are now, Loop. For sticking with them despite everything. Who watched Siffrin, guided them, gave them a shoulder to cry on, bantered with them so Siffrin did not lose himself. Who despite everything, still decided to help. Siffrin isn't mad at Loop, because Siffrin knows, he would do the same. Siffrin gives Loop back all the love they gave. He let's Loop move on, knowing they're loved. That they always have been. Loop accepts that their family is gone, that they loved them all the same. They learn that even with them gone, they were still loved. Loop is allowed to be happy as they leave.

And isn't that just what this game is about? That no matter what, everyone deserves to be loved. To know it too, and to be happy. And that's what healed me a bit. Because if even the King, who spent his days weeping for a kingdom long gone, who lost all his family and could not build a new one, who froze everything in time, was still able to know and remember the love he had in the end, then why can't I? Why can't anyone? If even the ones who hated and cried and destroyed everything, the ones who hid it all until they couldn't, who didn't understand their emotions and felt trapped within a construct, who didn't feel like them no matter how much they changed, then can't we, too, love and be loved?

This game shows that love does not have to be romantic, does not have to be displayed in any way, is not something earned, but is a basic right for all of us. And for that, I thank it.

#mannnnn i got all mushy writing this #i cant help it though #this game is just too special to me to not get all mushy when i go real deep into it #isat #isat spoilers #isat loop #isat siffrin #isat odile #isat mirabelle #isat bonnie #isat isabeau #in stars and time

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alyslittlehaven · 2 days ago

Text

" Love You Like A Bad Habit "

PROLOGUE -- ‘Turf War’

Whenever faced with a civil war inside of Velaris, Azriel is forced to tell his family about the connections he has in circles he wouldn’t dare normally bring to light. In an attempt to get a better understanding of the problem and how to stop it before it becomes too much, Rhysand accompanies his brother to a meeting with one of the infamous drug lords of the city. Does Azriel keep his true hobbies and private life in the dark? Or does his family finally see what his shadows do in the darkest parts of Velaris?

TW: Drugs, violence, death, talks of gangs, NSFW, prostitution (Only mentions of it), Smut, Angst, FWB to lovers, slight slow burn???, mentions of a drug lord, alcohol, addiction, arcane feels fr.

I DO NOT OWN ACOTAR, All rights and characters except for Rahlia and a few others are owned and made by Sarah J Maas.

"Excuse me?" Azriel's jaw tightened as Rhysand finally looked up from his desk, his brows furrowed as his violet eyes scanned over every feature he could find on the shadowsinger.

"Rhys, the shadows are telling me of an upcoming civil issue within the red light district of Velaris. I've heard whispers of fights between pleasure houses and even worse of people." Rhysand blinked, leaning back in his seat as he ran a hand through his hair.

There wasn't much that the red light district asked for or needed, meaning that during some times of peace, the high lord even forgot it existed. It didn't do anything outside of the district, and if anything having something like it lowered the crime rate inside of Velaris. So as long as everyone was happy with what they were given? Everything was fine-- but hearing that it wasn't fine anymore was worrisome.

"Are you suggesting that there might be something of a turf war in Velaris because of the pleasure halls that are being created?" Azriel slowly nodded. His eyes remain glued to the bottom of Rhysands desk. His mind racing. "An informant of mine in the district has also made me aware that some drugs have been leaked onto the streets due to the higher population in the area. More people are moving out of the district and into places such as the Rainbow. or just regular towns." Rhysand let out a hum, his chin resting on his hand as he looked at the papers sprawled out on the surface of his desk.

"-and why are we just now hearing about this? If a possible turf war is about to break out it must have been simmering for quite some time. I am aware I let the district be but you would think that they would come to their highlord for help, don't you think Azriel?" The shadowsinger carefully shook his head. His eyes locked with his brothers as a cup of tea appeared in front of Rhys.

"Speak, Azriel. You know you are allowed to do so brother."

Azriel's feet shifted, his wings tightening behind his back as he stood up straight, his hands clasped behind his back as he spoke.

"With all due respect Rhysand, the red district isn't the same as the rest of Velaris. You haven't attempted to reach out and create bonds with the lords in high places there due to our...reputation with the people. If it had been simmering we wouldn't have heard it's because the inner circle and the government of Velaris haven't been fully trusted by those in the red court." Rhysand nodded slowly.

Azriel had told him nothing but the truth, no matter how offended he was by the reasoning he understood where the spymaster was coming from. His brother's rigid posture caught him off guard as he looked back up. A brow raised as he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. "I see, but might I ask why you seem so tense, brother?" Azriel clicked his tongue, looking at the ground for a moment as he thought of how to word the next thing that came out of his mouth.

Azriel had spent hundreds of years in his position, making sure he knew every crack and crevice of the night court to make his job easier. Rhysand and the inner circle were aware he had informants in the nastiest of places just to make sure the wellbeing of the people and his family was secure. They would understand it, it was only his job after all.

"I have scheduled a meeting with one of the local drug lords in the red district. She runs the pleasure hall of Otaria where the refuge is. I believe you are aware of her reputation." Rhysand blinked, staring at Azriel in curiosity as he continued on.

Azriel took a deep breath, walked up to the desk in the middle of the room, and pointed at the small map of Velaris. "I think it would be a good idea for you to join me, show the people of the court's shadows that you care about their wellbeing as well and not just the people of the rainbow. Form a relationship with the lords and people....no matter how horrible they are." Rhysand's eyes watched Azriels hand carefully as he pointed to the Otaria hall. The pit of anxiety in his stomach only got worse as he thought about traveling to that part of the court. A small huff left the high lord's figure as his thoughts raced. The lord of those halls was said the be a disgusting male who had come from riches to fulfill his worst desires, putting the women in the hall through absolute hell just for some cash. To show the people he cared- he needed to throw all of his morals away to meet one of the worst men in Velaris? How could he do that? How could Azriel live with doing that?

"You wish for me to see an old, vile drug lord to prove a point to the people? Do you know what you are asking of me Azriel?" Rhysands tone was sharp, his words dripping with disgust as he watched his brother pull his hand back. His brows furrowed together.

"I'll have you know, they aren't as bad as you think." Rhysand tilted his head, confusion seeping into his bones as Azriel stared down at him. "Sometimes you need to realize that being High Lord isn't all about reputation, Rhysand. There should be no reason to keep you away from fixing the inner workings of your court." He was taken aback by Azriels harsh words, uncertainty filling his thoughts as his brother motioned for him to get up. "Are you coming?"

Rhysand nodded, standing up and brushing off his pants.

----

Disgusting.

That was the only word Rhysand could think of as he looked around the red district, people sitting on the sides of the street drinking ale out of the bottles, so many homeless people that his stomach turned just thinking about how selfish it was to own technically three houses. Everything he hated knowing about his city right there, was bare before him as if it was it's first day in the world as a babe.

Feyre would hate that he was here, that this place existed. She hated everything about this as well, her people dying of starvation- indulging in bad habits such as drugs that kept fathers away and crippled. The children playing in the road were happy, but a certain thinness to them that he couldn't bear to look at. The kind of bare that reminded him of his mate when he first met her.

Rhysand brought his sleep up to his nose as a man blew some sort f smoke in their direction, his lungs quickly filled with the burning sensation and the skunk-like smell that invaded his personal bubble. Luckily as they continued walking the smell dispersed, Rhysands brows furrowed as he looked at how comfortable Azriel was. He quickened his pace for a moment so he was now walking beside his brother. His violet eyes scanned their surroundings.

"These are the things you are made unaware of as a high lord when you look at the whole court and not just pieces at a time." Azriels voice was low, his words carefully calculated as he spoke to Rhysand. His hazel eyes finding his brothers with a certain kind of pity he hasn't seen in awhile.

Rhysands eyes darted around to the multitude of different things around them, his eyes finally landing on the large building a minute or two away with women and men alike walking in and out. The closer he got to the building the more of that odd stench he could smell. He knew what it was. he was a teen once- rebelling by smoking occasionally with the mirth root they had found in Illyria- but that strong of a smell must have meant something bad right? "How much has the population gone up by?" Azriel raised a brow, smirking slightly as he side-eyed Rhysand.

"Isn't the high lord supposed to know that information?" Rhysand rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face as he gently hit his brother's arm. Chuckling lightly. It wasn't his fault that he had no clue, the red light district worked on its own without any help from him or the inner circle. So many different things happened here that were illegal but were somehow unchecked and working well. He didn't like to admit it, but a good amount of the economy was working solely off of the money the pleasure halls and drug lords in this section of Velaris made from their stores. Hell- even most of the apothecaries and medicinal shops got their stock from the red light district, so as harmful as it was it worked well for all parties.

Azriel whistled slightly as he stepped over a pothole, the door of the Otaria opened up for him. The bell boy curtsying in the presence of Azriel and Rhysand. A smile on his face.

It wasn't like anything Rhysand imagined.

When he thought about the pleasure halls he was expecting cheap hotel rooms and the smell to be unbearable. That it was going to be unsanitary- disgusting- but what he just walked into was the exact opposite.

Booths were lined up on both ends of the hall, a large desk sitting in the middle of the room surrounded by men and women alike who were paying for pleasure. Their hands were in little baggies that carried their coin. Azriel barreled on, his footing never easing as he approached the desk. Rhysand on the other hand, slowed down to admire everything around him, the intricate carvings in what seemed to be the marble pillars were something only he could imagine. The man and women in the booths sitting beside each other flirting away with scandalous outfits on- most blue. Azriel looked back, smiling at his brother with an amused glint in his eye.

"How long has it been since you last visited the Otaria?" Rhysand shrugged, slowly catching up to his brother as he finally remembered why they were there.

"Hundreds of years I'm sure. I wasn't a big fan of the owner Tarly...It seems he has stepped up his game." Azriel let out a hum, stopping in front of the desk as he watched the woman behind it freeze as she stared at Rhysand. Her bright red eyes widened as she took in his form. Azriel slipped her a red coin before the woman cautiously picked it up and examined it. Dropping It back in Azriels hand when she was done and closing her fist.

"Ser Azriel. It's a pleasure to see you but...you are aware of the Masters rules on high lords, yes?" Azriel gently smiled at the woman, patting her hand with his other and pulling away. "She is aware of his presence I assure you. Just a small meeting." Rhysand lifted a brow, looking at the two with pure confusion.

She?

Azriel turned back to the high lord, his smile falling into a thin line as he spoke. "It's probably a good thing Tarly doesn't run this place anymore then. C'mon, we have places to be. Thank you Kashir." The woman nodded, bowing slightly as they walked around the desk and toward the door at the end of the hall.

"She doesn't?" Azriel laughed at Rhysands incredulous tone, shaking his head. "Mother no, he died long ago. One of his employees got tired of his treatment." Rhysand nodded slowly. Carefully eyeing his friend.

"The Otaria is under the ownership of Lady Rahlia. She was the one who killed him but it gave her the respect for her fellows to push her to take the building. Now it's high-end- or something like that." Azriel furrowed his brows, looking away from his brother before clearing his throat.

Soon enough they reached the door, their steps in sync as they stepped in. The smell of smoke instantly hitting Rhysands nose and making him flinch. He could barely see- the dizzying smell coming almost over powering as he covered his nose. Azriel took a moment to get used to it, the smoke filling the room and leaving it in a foggy mess. As the smoke cleared Rhysand blinked quickly. His senses over powered as the large, black hound growled at them. He took a step back, staring wide-eyed at this huge beast who stalked toward them slowly, the hair on its neck standing up in alert. As soon as the hound was about to bark a loud whistle rang through the room. The dog immediately sitting down with it's head tilted at them.

"Down girl,"

Rhysands eyes followed the voice, a woman around his height walking into the room from what seemed to be a bathroom. Cigarette in hand as she made her way toward them. Her blood-red dress clung to her features yet hung loosely, looking like something Mor would wear.

"Forgive her, she's trained to bite." A smirk lay on her face as she took in Rhysand, her brown eyes raking over every part of him as she ignored Azriel. Rhysand swallowed hard, his usual roughness gone due to the new surroundings he was in. His own violet eyes sought out Azriel to help him silently. Azriel crossed the room and sat down in one of the chairs, the woman's eyes following the shadowsinger with a familiar gaze. "I was told you needed my assistance and absolutely wonderful knowledge...when you said your precious high lord would be joining I was quite rushed to clean my halls." The woman walked behind the desk, sitting down in the comfortable-looking chair.

"Yes, we have heard some very disturbing whispers about a possible turf war happening. I thought you might have something to say about it." Azriel crossed his arms as Rhysand sat down. The poor high lord was taken off guard by the variety of pillows and tapestries that decorated the office.

"I might have," She slowly inhaled the contents of her cigarette, maintaining eye contact with the two of them as she laid back in her seat and blew the smoke out. "Depends which kind of turf war you are speaking of. It's not unusual for drug lords to get territorial around these parts but it dies quick like a man meeting a maid- but if you're talking about the turf war going on between the Junes and Crasters..." She smirked, holding out a box of cigs to the both of them.

"The Crasters?" Rhysand finally spoke up, gently shaking his head no at the offer and crossing his ankle at his knee. "Haven't they been passive for years though? What could possibly start them going into a turf war?" The woman eyed him, her usual smirk falling for a quick moment.

"Ah yes- forgive me, high lord. My name is Lady Rahlia. I am not a history book." Rahlia rolled her eyes, setting down the box and sighing. "You are wrong, they are the most aggressive people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. They have been banned from this establishment since the moment I got it in my wallet." Rhysand stared at the desk. His brows furrowed.

"Is he pouting?" She snickered, looking toward Azriel. A soft clicking noise came from her as she stood back up and rounded the table.

"Oh...big bad Spymaster can't say what he wants because he is in the company of his brother and high lord." She rolled her eyes, her smirk falling into a look of distaste.

"I hate two-faced royals." The corner of azriels mouth twitched, his wings shifting behind him so he got comfortable.

"I'm aware." Rahlia leaned down, grabbing Azriels face roughly in between her thumb and pointer finger. Scowling at the man.

"Then speak, boy." Azriel glared at her. Rolling his eyes as she tore her hand away from him.

Rhysand watched carefully, a hand on the dagger hidden in his belt. He looked at Azriel to confirm if he was okay- his brother just sat there. Staring at her for a moment before sighing and speaking.

"Just a bit, he pouts when he doesn't turn out as smart as he thinks."

Rahlia smiled, mouthing thank you to Azriel before moving to her bookcase to grab a bundle of papers. Throwing them on the Shadowsingers lap before sitting down once more. Azriel carefully looked through them. Brows raised as he looked up at her from the bundle. "What are these?" Rahlia propped her chin up against her fist like a bored child, looking at him through reddish eyes.

"Intercepted letters via bird...news...reports. You name it. everything you need to know about the most recent events. I had a feeling you'd be visiting." Azriel nodded tensely, standing up with the 'gift' and looking at Rhysand. "We are leaving."

Rahlia chuckled, the hound rounding the table to sit next to her. Rahlias nails gently scratched at the animal's head, listening to the huff she gave when Rahlia hit just the right spot. Rhysand stood up, walking to the door with Azriel as dread filled his stomach. A gut feeling that he was missing so much of what was truly happening in the room around him. As Azriel opened the door the woman's voice spoke up once more, a sickly sweet tone hidden behind each word she uttered.

"Come visit again soon, spymaster. Your talents are wasted at a council table."

#acotar #azriel x reader #fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #a court of thorns and roses #original character #fiction #azriel x oc #azriel supremacy #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #Rahlia Targetia #tw drugs #first chapter

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everlastingdreams · 2 days ago

Text

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 40

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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: Beneath The Ashes

Notes: Hightlighted some of the warnings for this one just in case.

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter: 40/47

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How much time had passed? You didn’t know, but it must have been more than just a few seconds since the fall. You pushed yourself off of the ground slowly, wincing at how sore your arm felt from trying to stop yourself in the fall. Apart from one burning torch on the wall, the place was terribly dark, a void to the eyes. You grabbed that torch, using it to light your way as you climbed back up those steps to the door. The door was shut again, like a large rock was blocking it against any movement.

“Lancelot?” you called out for him multiple times and no response came.

It felt like you found yourself into a different world within those shadows. And again you felt that strange presence around you. Fear of the unknown set itself into your bones, with deep breaths to stay calm you went down the steps again. The haunting whispers began to fill your ears with each step further into the darkness. You hoped you hadn’t taken the first steps into a maze.

Your name was called out again, a voice you did not recognize. You swiftly turned, holding out the torch to see if anyone was there, but by instinct you knew that the origin of this voice was no longer of this earth. It made you draw your sword, it would be of little help if forced to fight this ancient presence but it made you feel a little better to be holding a weapon. You began to search the place for another exit, it was pathway after pathway and you tried to light the torches that you found on the wall along the way with your flint but they refused to burn no matter how much you cursed at them. The darkness made it hard to navigate the place and you carved into the stones to help try and keep track of where the staircase had been. The deeper you traveled into this underground structure, the stronger the presence became. Your vision got blurrier, you heard something nearby, a person? Quickly you followed the sound, and what you found was shocking.

A Red Paladin was striking at a cowering child with a scourge, the boy was on the ground almost curled up in a ball with only his back to be used as a target, he used his arms to cover his head and face from the damage.

“HEY!” You furiously charged forward.

Then everything changed, the stone walls were gone, and you found yourself in a place that looked so very familiar. It left you disoriented, frightened, but mostly confused. Had you gone mad? This couldn’t be real, what were the Old Gods doing? You were in a tent with the child, who could not have been more than ten years of age, and the paladin. He was still striking the terrified boy, the scourge had cut through the worn-down shirt the boy was wearing.

“You’ll bleed for that, boy!” The paladin struck at him again. “You will starve as long as you do not serve!”

Real or not, you weren’t going to ignore that. “Get away from him!”

When you lunged at the paladin with your sword, the blade went right through him, as if he was a ghost. Powerless you had to watch as he struck the boy with the scourge again, not once did the child beg for mercy or weep. There were only quiet yelps of pain and it made your stomach turn.

You begged the Hidden to make it stop. “Please… why are you showing me this? Stop this!”

The paladin stopped hitting the boy and threw to scourge at his feet. “Learn to cleanse your sins, boy. Or we will do it for you.”

With that threat, the paladin left the tent. Only then did the boy allow himself to quietly weep, away from judging eyes. You hurried to the child, trying to touch his shoulder but your hand went right through him. Perhaps you were the ghost… Oh you wished he could hear the words of comfort you spoke, the promises to help…

Finally the child lifted his head from the protection of his arms and upon his cheeks were the markings you knew so well. The boy who would grow to become their Weeping Monk had just received a violent punishment. Tears fell down your cheek at the horrible realization that you were trapped in a vision of Lancelot’s past. Through the tears in his shirt, you could see that the first of his scars had already formed. You saw him reach for the scourge and tried with all your willpower to take it from his hands to no avail.

You turned around, covering your eyes in shock at what would follow. “No, no, no… please. Please, don’t make me watch, please, I beg you…”

When you opened your eyes again, the sun was on your face and you were standing outside in between the familiar tents of the paladin camp you had spend so much time in. Was this the Hidden, or the gods they had once prayed to, that were causing this to happen? The paladins walked around, none ever truly looking at you but looking through you like you weren’t there. And you weren’t, these were days long passed. The voice of Father Carden reached your ears and you searched from where it was coming from. It led you to another tent and you cautiously stepped inside. You nearly fell again when noticing too late how close Father Carden was to the entrance of the tent, luckily you kept your footing. Then your heart sank at the sight of Lancelot, sitting on his knees at an alter, his back full of fresh bloodied wounds from the scourge. The priest spoke to him.

~“When she returns, she will be kept bound and in a guarded tent. I should not have put this task on you, I see how her presence has affected you, my son. You have made mistakes I had not expected of you.”~

This had been after you had escaped? You went over to Lancelot, touching him was not possible again, your hand went through him like the touch of a ghost. “Lancelot…” He looked so broken and tired. And Father Carden had witnessed this?

~“I want her with me, Father.”~

You couldn’t believe he had been brave enough to say this to Father Carden. That he would even say it at all… He was still with the paladins, expected to be devoted only to the scriptures, this could have meant severe punishment. And this… this proved he felt something even then…

He had tilted his head down, pressing his eyes shut. You could hear him utter ‘Please’, a plea that had been meant for no other ears than those of the God he once served. The priest had voiced his dismay over that confession.

~“You cannot let her taint your path to salvation. I thought I had driven the weakness out of you. She is not raised with the scriptures. Her Feyblood still calls to her.”~

Again, Lancelot remained composed until Father Carden left the tent, then he began to tremble. You had dropped to your knees at his side, hand hovering near his cheek that this vision would not allow you to touch. You wished he could have heard you when you told him that you were with him now and that all would be well.

Your sight began to blur again, the vision faded out from your eyes and after blinking a few times you found yourself knelt down on the cold stones of the pathway again.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

Lancelot was frantically searching for another way to the lower level after having tried to break that door down. Only when that door shut again did he sense the power that held the door in it’s hold. He tried to use the Sword of Power on the door, cursing at the bloody thing that he’d destroy it and this whole castle if these spirits caused you harm.

He had seen the way you fell, how the door slammed shut against him when he tried to stop it from happening. To say he was furious at these spirits was an understatement. He had not stopped shaking since he heard the frightened scream flee your lungs at the fall.

There was no other entrance to be found that led down, he returned to the door and tried the only thing he had not tried before. He put his palm down against the door, recalling Merlin’s words from earlier.

It was awakened by strong emotions and could also be controlled by it. And his emotions were a storm threatening to tear everything down into it’s path now. He felt the power surge through his veins towards his fingertips, and still he recoiled at the strength of which the green flames came from his hand and violently forced the door to slam open, it rattled in it’s hinges this time.

He grabbed one of the torches on the wall and descended the steps fast, calling out your name over and over again while ignoring the whispers of his ancestors in his ears that pleaded for his attention. The second he set foot into the underground area, the torches lit aflame for his presence as if they welcomed him. He ignored the Hidden until it made him halt, something was coming, he could feel it. And just as that feeling came over him, his vision became unfocused, blurring out his surroundings. He could feel that strange presence now and how it weighed down upon him.

~“Dark angel…”~

For only a moment his sight had darkened, and when it returned he was no longer where he had been seconds ago. Still, this place was familiar to him. Ravenwick… your old home… your bedroom to be exact.

~“No! Stop!”~

A belt rained down upon the back of the child. He did not even care how he ended up there, all he cared about now was protecting this young girl and he charged at the man who was so cowardly to harm a child. His sword went through the man like it had struck nothing but air.

“No…” he could not stand to see this happen.

He kept trying to put an end to this cruel attack. And then he noticed, he had fought this man before. The Lord of Ravenwick, a younger version of him. Realization and horror filled his eyes, he focused on the girl crying in the corner of the room as she tried to go and hide behind her bed.

He’d recognize those eyes everywhere. How sickly you looked, dehydrated, weak, unsteady on your legs. So young, so very young, not older than nine years of age.

Aldith grabbed hold of your arm, undoubtedly bruising it.

~“I told you not to steal from our table!”~

The piece of bread was on the floor, it looked like it had been stomped on. Was this punishment for taking some bread? Aldith was rough, pulling at your arm so hard he feared he’d see the bastard dislocate it. You were thrown to the floor, one of your books was thrown at your head and it hit the back of it. Aldith’s voice thundered into the room.

~“I will let you starve to death! I’ll cut off your hands and feed it to the hounds!”~

~“Please! Father, no!”~

He turned his head when Aldith struck you again, unable to bear the sight of it anymore. Such brutality towards a frightened child, it sickened and infuriated him. At last Aldith left your bedroom, slamming the door shut and bolting it closed. You sank to your knees and crawled into the narrow space between the wall and the foot of your bed. He got closer, seeing the damage that had been done.

Bruised all over, nose bloodied, a set of eyes that bore no hope anymore. You began to crawl towards the bread that Aldith must have trampled on purpose, your hunger forcing you to still eat it. This was how you had lived before Cassian traded you away?

He thought back to how things had been for you the first days with the paladins. How often you had flinched from him… And after his coldness towards you, you had found it in your heart to forgive him…

He knelled down near the younger version of you, speaking words of comfort your ears could not hear, “I will do right by you. I swear it.”

The whispers of his ancestors rang into his ears, warning him before the change happened. His vision blurred again, darkening for only a second before he found himself into another room of the same manor in Ravenwick. He had been there before, once in the darkness of night and once when he had tried to convince Aldith to return you to Father Carden. This time he saw you walk into the room, looking just the way you did when he first met you. Aldith and Cassian looked surprised to see you there it seemed.

~“Father…”~

You looked shaken and tired, what had happened?

~“You’re alive?!?”~

That filth of a half-brother had sounded appalled. And if he could have gone back in time to this moment he would have began planning this imbecile’s death that very second.

~“Explain yourself.”~

Aldith showed no concern over the state you had been in. It was as if it was nothing more than a nuisance. Your answer was so very quiet and full of caution.

~“The Weeping Monk let me go.” ~

He grimaced at hearing his former title fall from your lips. This was just after he had met you… he couldn’t help but get closer to you, seeing how weary of life you looked. He reached out, wishing he could have been there with everything he knew now, but his hand moved through the ghost of your past. Cassian’s appalling behaviors knew no bounds.

~“He killed the others, tried to kill me, but let you go?!? What did you do?”~

~“I didn’t do anything.”~

~“You must have done something. Did you let him use you?”~

Hearing the insinuation left him disgusted. The sellsword had no shame and not a single speck of compassion towards you. He followed the remainder of the conversation. You were blamed for being disobedient, for being a distraction to Cassian when he was meant to be focused on robbing the paladin camp. Aldith agreed with his son that the guilt was yours alone to carry. Aldith showed no mercy when he struck you in the stomach so hard it had send you to your knees.

Lancelot stepped back, his stomach cramped up at the sight of you having had to undergo such vile treatment, it made him feel physically sick. The Hidden had mercy upon him, his vision blurred again and after blinking a few times he found himself back in the underground pathways beneath the castle.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

After returning from the vision you were trapped in, the atmosphere felt palpably different. The odd presence no longer felt as heavy, as if it finally achieved what it had wanted. The torches were all aflame, providing enough light to see well. You kept marking the walls as you searched for another exit, and when you found a closed door you hoped it was your way back into the castle. This time the door opened by it’s own will, your hand had stopped mid-reach for the handle. You took a step into the doorway but were pulled back. Your startled scream echoed between the stone walls.

“Are you alright?” Lancelot spoke your name with such worry, repeating the question while cupping your face into his hands. “Are you harmed?”

You gripped hold on his jerkin, hoping to feel the warmth of him instead of reaching into air. “Are you really here?”

“I am here.” He was inspecting your head and if you stood balanced, searching for any sign of injury.

You hoped he believed what you were to tell him, and that he didn’t think you just hit your head too hard. “I saw your past, Lancelot, the Old Gods gave me a vision.”

He nodded, letting his gaze settle upon your eyes. “I experienced a vision as well, one of your past.”

Memories of all the embarrassing moments in your life filled your head. “What-… What did you see?”

He brushed his hand over the side of your head, a soothing gesture. “They showed me the treatment you underwent at the hands of Aldith and Cassian in Ravenwick.”

“I’m sorry.” You didn’t know why you apologized, it just didn’t sit well that he could have seen one of the many beatings you’ve undergone.

“No.” He shook his head. “You do not apologize for what is not your crime. I saw where your scars came from, I saw him use the belt on you. I saw what happened after we first met, how they blamed you…” He brought his face close to yours, speaking right into your ear, “And if they had still been breathing, I would hunt them down and put their corpses at your feet, but not before they suffered for all they have done to you.”

Your eyes widened at him, at how he had spoken with true conviction. “Lancelot…”

He refused to take it back, he would not pretend to be merciful after that vision. He spoke the vow close to your lips, “If anyone lays a hand on you again, they will loathe the day they were born. This I promise.”

It made you wonder what he had truly seen to react in such a way, you could feel the rage in him that he tried to hide from your eyes and see the way he looked at you now.

He took a breath and proceeded to put his lips to your forehead, lingering for a moment. His voice a whisper, “Do you know how far I would go to keep you safe?”

He would bathe his hands in blood, challenge the gods themselves, and trade his own life for another day with you.

Your eyes had fluttered shut. If only he knew what just his voice already did to you. “I have an inkling of it.”

He leaned back, thumbs brushing along your markings. “Now, tell me, are you hurt?”

You decided to tell him the truth, “My bottom and arm feel sore from the fall. And I’m quite certain I was unconscious for a bit.”

“Hold out your hand. See if you can make a fist.” He instructed and saw that you could do it. “No pain?”

“No.” You shook your head.

“That is good. I do not think it is broken.” He touched your arm, seeing if you could still bend it well. “Bruised possibly. What worries me is what damage the fall did to your head.”

The jest fell, “Are you going to see if my rear is fine too?”

His eyes locked on your face right away, smirking whilst giving a scolding look. “Perhaps later. But let Pym see if she can help, she is our healer now after all.” He saw you nod. “What did you see of my past?”

Your small smile fell, but he surely had seen you hesitate, hiding it was no use. “I saw how the paladins pushed you to use the scourge on yourself when you were just a boy. And I saw you speak of me to Father Carden.”

“What was said?” he quickly asked.

“You told him you wanted me with you.”

His eyes dropped to the floor, as if he was embarrassed that you had witnessed him at that point in his life. “I remember it was the day you fled from me, I was in ruins when Father came to speak to me.”

“I saw. Back then, were you already feeling more for me than just friendship?” you wondered out loud.

He was pensive. “I believe I was afraid to acknowledge that possibility. But a dream I had not long before that solidified that fact.”

You locked onto that confession right away. “You dreamed of me while you were still a monk? What happened in the dream?”

There was a tug at the corner of his lips. “You stabbed me with the dagger I gave you.”

That was disappointing, but understandable considering the circumstances. “I thought it was going to be something different.”

He risked it, “You wore a chemise.”

“Ah, there it is.”

“And you taunted me, behaving licentious.”

“You thought it proper to dream of a friend like that?”

“I had no control over it.”

Your brow arched, a cheeky smile was plastered on your face. “Poor man. Having to dream of me in a chemise.”

Almost did he roll his eyes when you kept teasing him about it and he tried hard not to smile. “The reality has proven to be better.”

You were hit with the memory of what had happened the last time you wore a chemise. There was no chance that he wasn’t trying to get you flustered. “Really?”

The door was opened to flirtation and he eagerly invited himself into it. “Certainly.”

You looked at how he let his knuckles brush down your arm. “I might wear it again tonight.”

The prospect of it caused his eyes to glister in the light of the flames. The slight softening of his features warmed your heart. Under the intensity of his eyes you forced your own down to his chest, feeling the fluttering in your chest caused a chill to run down your back.

He cupped the side of your neck and whispered against your temple, “Tonight you should rest. Or have you forgotten how close you were to breaking your neck not long ago?”

You rolled your eyes and stepped back. “I have not forgotten.”

“That is a good sign.” he smirked.

It was a clear jab towards the state your head and memory was in. You decided to let it slide. “Why did they show these visions to us?”

He hummed. “They searched our memories and saw our lowest moments.”

You were trying to make sense of the matter. “Why do you think I saw your past and you saw mine?”

He pondered on that for a moment, then blinked in realization. “They wanted us to see what they had seen in our pasts. It’s our emotions… what Merlin said… our magic is awakened by strong emotions and can also be controlled by them. Perhaps the Hidden and these other Old Gods hope to strengthen our power by it?”

It was appalling. “Rather cruel of them to show us the other suffering while being unable to do anything to stop it.”

He was no stranger to harsh tactics to bring the best out of a soldier. “But it works, do you not feel it running through your veins now?”

He took hold of your hand, urging you to tune into your senses. When you closed your eyes and shut out all distractions, you felt the power gently flow through you.

“It’s right there, is it not? Just below the surface.” He saw you open your eyes and nod.

“But did they have to nearly break my neck for that…” you grumbled, bothered by how reckless the Old Gods had been.

“Your fall may not have been their intention.” he said.

“It’d better not have been.” you grumbled.

He turned to the door you had opened. “What is through there? Another path back into the fort?”

The door behind you was still open, unlike the one who had send you flying down all those steps. “I have no idea, I haven’t gone in there, you found me just as I had wanted to step inside.”

“Remain at my side.” Lancelot moved past you and walked through the doorway. Waiting just for a moment to see if you indeed stayed close.

Once passed the doorway, you arrived into a room with a high ceiling. The room was large and beautiful, large paintings hanged up on the walls, chandeliers lighted the whole place. It was nothing compared to the pathways or the rest of the castle, the state of the room was almost pristine.

“Gods… it’s beautiful…” You stared at the stone pillars that were beautifully crafted and had a pattern of vines along them.

Lancelot was speechless for a moment, staring up at the paintings. He approached them with you. A large painting of a tree was in the center of the wall, standing out above all others.

It was a known imagery among Fey kind. “The tree of life.”

The symbol he had once seen on Brother Otto’s chest as he lay dying was entangled in the painted roots of the tree.

You were tempted to touch the beautiful painting but he caught your wrist to prevent it, clearly not fully trusting that it was safe. “Do you think it is here because the Fey clans began with ours?”

His hand slid down to take hold of your own. “Possibly.”

He looked to the painting at the left of it. Whilst you looked to the one to the right half-hidden out of your sight behind a pillar.

“Look.” You gave his hand a little tug.

He followed your gaze and decided to inspect the paintings on the right. Most of them depicted people, all with the marks of the Ash Folk. But you made him halt at the painting that had been hard to see from where you stood earlier. The woman in the painting had markings, light like yours were, and eyes that same striking color of your lover’s. Surely, he saw it too?

“Are they-”

“Yes.” He was quiet for a while, just looking at the painting with a haunted look in his eyes.

He knew. He knew it was them. His father and mother. He knew… he remembered now.

The moment had to be bittersweet, for him to see his parents for the first time in many years but also only in the form of a painting, sorrow and joy had never been so close together.

His mother, Elaine, had gorgeous golden hair that was in an intricate braided hairstyle. His father, Ban, had deep chestnut hair that almost sat on his shoulders but curled just above them.

“This must have been before Hector and I were born.” He was saddened by the lack of a painting that depicted his infant brother.

You embraced his arm, hoping to offer some silent comfort.

He quietly began to speak, “Merlin told me that my father felt so joyful when I was born that he went around and showed me to everyone. Apparently Ban put me in Merlin’s hands when I was a babe, presenting me to him with immense pride. My mother scolded him for putting me in Merlin’s hands without even asking the magician first.” A careful smile curved his lips. “According to Merlin my mother was always walking the line between gentleness and fury, and my father knew exactly how to move her from one side to another.”

Your head rested against his arm. “They must have been quite a pair.”

He leaned into you more. “She was quiet. He was loud. They were trying to escape these lands, news had reached them that Father Carden was seeking a particular kind of Fey, our kind…” He stepped away, pacing around the room a bit. “This was once their home. Until they left to avoid having to raise their children in the midst of war. If Merlin was speaking the truth, then Ban put this curse on the castle to protect it from the enemy. An attempt to save what could have been the last reminder of our clan.”

This room held the history of the Ash Folk. Bookcases filled one wall of the room, shelves filled of knowledge that may have been believed to be lost to the world. Two large wooden chests stood at each side of what looked like a large table with a diorama version of the castle and it’s surroundings atop of it. It was a beautiful way to have build a map, detailed and quicker to read than a normal map. It caught his eyes and he was at that table within seconds, seemingly loving how a replica of the area was build on it.

He picked up a small wooden horse carved from wood. “Red Spear’s crew will be bringing our horses over.”

You watched as he continued to pick up and look at these sculpted figurines with silent awe in his eyes. It was quite endearing to see him so interested, like a child being given something they had dreamed of.

“This is very useful.” He looked at how the small trees were replicated with small twigs and straw for branches. “This shows us what they may have found important in the area.”

You leaned with your back against the table, smiling as he studied the diorama. “You are adorable.”

He was taken aback by the sweet tone in your voice, for a second he appeared timid. “I’ve seen maps like this before, but nothing as incredible as this.”

“I can tell. Should I be worried you will spend your days playing with it?” you chuckled.

A cheeky smirk formed on his lips. “As incredible as this map is, I prefer to play with something else.”

Your mouth fell agape, and you made light of the comment. “Unfortunately for you I am not on a table for you to play with.”

He dared it. “That can be arranged, can it not?”

“Dear gods!” You swatted at his arm playfully. “There is a painting of your parents right there!”

He found your reaction terribly amusing. “I believe they would be glad their son has brought home such a fine and fair woman.” His smile faltered all of a sudden. “This was home once…”

The pain in his voice was audible to you. “And it could be home for you again.”

“For us.” He bumped the toe of his boot against one of the chests on the floor. “Let us see what is in here.”

With the help of one of his daggers he pried the lock of the chest open, perhaps even hoping to find more figurines for the display. But neither you or him had expected to find what was inside of that chest.

Gold. The chest was filled nearly to the brim with coins that shined under the light of the chandeliers, not a silver one in sight amongst them.

“Good gods…” you gasped at the sight of it.

He stared down at it in disbelief. “Well, I believe this means we will be able to purchase what we need for the Fey to be comfortable here.”

Upon seeing all this gold, that was his first reaction? He truly did have a good heart.

Percival’s voice rang from behind you, “Is that gold?!?” The boy’s hands were in that chest the blink of an eye later, flabbergasted by how it truly were coins all the way to the bottom of it.

Lancelot had waited for a few seconds before making the boy move his hands out of the chest, alarmed by the lone presence of the boy. “Why are you not with the others?”

“Because I was looking for you.” Percival said oh so matter-of-factually.

Lancelot did not like the answer. “Did the Green Knight not tell you to stay at his side?”

Percival knew he was in trouble. “Maybe.”

He narrowed his eyes at the child who tried to outwit him. “And why have you not listened?”

The boy looked so caught in his mischief, shrugging his shoulders. “I wanted to be with you.”

The scolding look vanished from Lancelot’s face no matter how hard he tried to keep it. You bit your tongue, seeing the Ash Man fail to be stern when the boy was wrapping him around his fingers effortlessly.

Percival pointed at the gold and visibly resisted the urge to take a step closer to it again. “Can I have some?”

He could not blame the boy for the question, the Fey suffered from poverty and famish and Percival had not been spared from it. “We need to tell the others of this first, Percival, to decide what must be done with it.”

“We can purchase food with it!”

“Yes.”

The boy daydreamed before your very eyes. “And so many sweetrolls…”

“Easy there.” you said. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’ll hear what the Green Knight thinks first.”

Percival hurried to the exit of the room, too impatient to wait for the decision to be made. “Come on then, hurry up!”

You arched a brow, whispering to Lancelot, “You do know he slipped some coins in his sleeve?”

Lancelot held back a chuckle. “I know.”

And he’d pretend not to know, for there was not enough coin in the world to repay the boy for offering the spark of hope that had saved his life that night.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

A few hours later all had gathered in the room around the table. The other chest had been opened as well and contained the same contents that were in the other chest, but some jewels and gemstones were included on top of it. Merlin looked happy to stand among the history of the Ash Folk, having stared at the painting of Lancelot’s parents for a while before joining the others standing around the table.

Arthur made the first suggestion after they were shown what was found. “We just divide it again. Like we did with the coin we found in Ravenwick.”

Gawain seemed to think about agreeing to that option, but he awaited other opinions.

“No.” Red Spear stood in front of her crew, none of them looked very interested in the coin anymore. “This coin can keep hundreds fed and clothed. Dividing it between ourselves makes us as selfish as the Red Paladins. We are not beasts!”

Arthur got really quiet, really fast. He clearly valued her opinion on the matter.

“Ay.” The crew agreed with their captain. They may have plundered and stolen, but they were not heartless monsters who would leave people starving like the paladins did.

“She is right.” Gawain concurred. “This gold puts us at an advantage. We can purchase flower to make bread, armour to protect ourselves, wood and stone to make this castle a fort any enemy will fear to attack.”

“This is for the Fey.” you agreed. “To rebuild what was taken from us all.”

Percival chimed in. “And for sweetrolls.”

“Oh, yes!” Pym agreed with Percival on that.

The whole room looked at the big grin on Percival’s face. Then began the discussion on how to keep the coin safe from being stolen by those with ill-intent, that was when Merlin decided to speak up.

“The Hidden will not let those they cannot trust into this room. You said you could not open the door until they allowed it?” Merlin shook his head a little, a secret smile on his face. “Rest assured even the Old Gods, who’s presence lingers within these walls, will not be kind to those who tread into this place with the intent to rob their heir of his inheritance.”

Lancelot was leaning over the table, but looked at Merlin. “You suggest just leaving the gold here?”

Merlin gave a slow nod. “Yes. I suggest we put our faith in your ancestors to protect what has been safe for all those years under the curse.”

Lancelot looked to Gawain for his opinion on it. “Green Knight?”

Gawain stood, arms crossed over his chest, thinking about it for a moment. “It sounds like a plan. But I still vote for the door leading down here to be guarded.”

Red Spear’s offer came, “My crew will handle that task.”

This time it was Gawain who looked at Lancelot for approval, something the Ash Man was yet to get used to. Lancelot gave a nod.

Arthur pointed at something on the map, asking Red Spear, “Has your crew seen this area on the map, would that be a village?”

“A small one.” she answered.

Arthur hummed. “If we are fortunate, there will be merchants willing to sell their wares to us. We could establish a symbiotic relationship with the village. We help them, they help us. And we are in great need of linen and other basic necessities if we at least wish to offer the Fey a proper chance to sleep here. Matters that those merchants can provide us with.”

Gawain was a bit apprehensive about a small allyship with the village. “We have linen. They just have to be washed clean of the dust.”

Lancelot sided with Arthur, for once. “Arthur is right, Gawain, we will not have enough. A basic level of comfort is needed if we hope to keep our people alive here. The weather is growing colder, we cannot risk an illness to be born from our negligence to provide the Fey with warm beds and clothes.”

Pym stammered a little before she got her voice loud enough for all to hear. “And we need more materials to treat the sick and wounded.”

“Indeed.” Lancelot was in agreement. “And speaking of wounded… Pym, could you be so kind as to see if my wife has not broken any bones from her fall?”

“Sure. I can try.” She saw half of the room send her a questioning look. “I mean… of course I can.”

Gawain looked at you, wondering if you were brave enough to find out whether Pym was right or not. And you were going to find out rather quickly, because she took hold of your hand and walked you out of there to begin her healer duties.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

While the others had gone to work on preparing the castle for the arrival of the Fey, you were send to Pym to check on your health. She was rough by accident and kept apologizing for it.

“Sorry.” She said when taking hold on your sore arm too firm.

“It’s fine.” You winced as it happened to your other arm too.

Pym saw it. “Sorry.”

You found it rather comical to see her try her best to act like a healer.

“I wonder what we’ll eat for supper. I’m starving for something warm.” She daydreamed about it out loud, “Roasted potatoes with a tomato filled with cheese…”

“Or soup?” You suggested a more likely meal.

She grimaced at the mere idea of it. “If I eat soup, or broth, one more time it’s going to start dripping out of my ears.”

That put a vivid image of it in your head, making you grimace too. She apologized again.

Pym went to stand in front of you. “Alright. Follow my finger.”

Your eyes followed how she moved her finger from left to right, up and down, as she tested your ability to focus on it.

“Not feeling sick?” she asked.

“No. Just a little tired. And the start of a headache I think.” you admitted.

“Dizzy?”

“No.”

Pym was relieved that you seemed well and that she wouldn’t have to figure out a way to heal you. “Good.” Muttering under her breath, “Thank the gods…”

You had stood up from the chair you had been sitting on and felt your vision blacken just for a moment. Quickly you sat down again, feeling suddenly nauseous.

“Are you alright?” Pym had seen you act strange from the corner of her eyes.

“Yes.” You assumed it happened from getting up too fast. “Just felt strange for a moment.”

Again you stood, and took a few steps. A cold shiver ran from your back up to your neck, and once it reached your head your vision darkened very quickly, like shadows closing in it trapped your consciousness. Pym squeaked in shock as she saw you fall to the floor like a limp sack of potatoes.

Taglist:

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Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story. Using this old list from the previous fic.

#lancelot x reader #the weeping monk #cursed #weeping monk x reader #cursed netflix #weeping monk x you #weeping monk #cursed lancelot #the weeping monk x reader #lancelot

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gauntletqueen · 18 hours ago

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I'm known to be honest. To a fault, some would say, but only logically, not emotionally. Without even realising it, I usually put up a front of sorts, appearing perfectly happy and content. It's not so much that I lie about how I feel, it's moreso that I can't get myself to talk about my emotions in the first place. It makes me feel really awful. I'm taking this time to be truly honest about how I feel and who I am.

I'm afraid of a lot of things. That most of my friends secretly don't care about me and only humor me because the alternative is too much of a hassle. That I'll never actually be happy with who I am, no matter how many positive changes I make to myself. That people will realise I'm not anything special, that so many people in my spheres are a better alternative to me, that what little I've managed to accomplish in my continuous car crash of a life amounts to nothing. That my years of professional education, self-taught skills and dreams of becoming an artist really have been wasted. That I'm undeserving and even incapable of real romantic love. That, by being honest about all this, I'll drive people away.

Most of all I'm afraid of the relentless march of time. That all of my bad choices, failures, wasted opportunities, fears and losses are constantly compounding. The terrifying prospect of living in a world that keeps getting worse, that as time goes by, the people in whom I find the most comfort will be taken from me. That my chances to live my life in a way I can be happy with are slipping away.

And I feel ungrateful. I'm told I'm loved, that I matter and that I do have a positive impact on the lives of others. People tell me they love what I do, that they look up to me, feel inspired. They put me on a pedestal, think me unapproachable. It makes me angry how wrong that feels. My self esteem is so bad I can't imagine a world in which these people aren't wrong for this. I know their feelings are valid, I know I should just be happy with their compliments, but it's like I'm an outsider in my own mind, desperately clawing at the windows and screaming to stop being so stubborn, so sad, so self-destructive.

I've often talked about wanting, needing to be a robot. For gender euphoria, of course, and to be rid of the need to eat and sleep, and chronic illness. But it goes deeper. I want to be something other entirely, somewhere else entirely. Something disconnected from this hellish existence where I'm constantly fighting myself in every way. Something not bound by the ticking clock of a biological life, or the crushing fear of a monotonous, unfulfilled everyday existence. Free to just be, without a lifetime of dreams and worries, stretching both back and forward in time. Maybe I want to be nothing at all.

I don't know if this makes sense. I just wrote it down. I'm sorry. Thank you for reading.

#this is a big vent post. it's been a long time coming. feel free to ignore #I've been in a bad place emitionally for a long long time #some recent developments and today's computer incident were just the last straw

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thevoidstaredback · 2 days ago

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One would think that looking for a portal into The Afterlife would be an easy endeavor. You find out what it’s supposed to look like, what energy it puts off, who would have a motive, track them and/or it down, fight and shut down the whole project, call it a day.

There’s one problem with this sequence of events, though. Phantom won’t tell anyone what it looks like, nor will he share what kind of energy it puts off. He’s the only one to have seen a man-built portal into the Realms, so no one else knows what to look for. Any questions had been shut down the second they were asked. This was information Phantom was keeping close to his chest.

After three hours of frustrated discussion, the meeting room emptied. Tensions were rising high due to everyone’s lack of ability to do anything until Phantom gave them the information they needed.

Well, almost everyone left.

Nightwing sat beside Phantom. “Y’know, Constantine said that I’m your favorite bat.”

A few moments of silence sat between them. “You are, yeah.”

He preened at the confirmation. “Oh? Why’s that?”

Phantom chuckled lightly to himself. “I doubt you’d remember, even if I told you.”

“Well, now you have to tell me! If only so that I can make sure my siblings never try to take this spot from me.”

A smile. “I was twenty-two when I first went to Gotham. You were still newish. Twelve, I think?”

If the time seemed weird compared to what Nightwing knew, he didn’t mention it. “Oh? B would’ve been about that age, too.”

Phantom blushed a light green. “Don’t tell him, but I had the biggest crush on him back then.”

That got Nightwing to laugh again. “Is that why you went to Gotham?”

“No. Me, my friends, and my little sister were playing Truth or Dare. I was dared to wander around Gotham without using any powers or getting caught by Batman.”

“You took the dare?”

“Yep. Flew into the city and started to just walk. That’s when I met Lady Gotham, actually. I told her that I wanted to play a game with Batman and Robin and she let me in. She told me to be careful and that I’d lose before wishing me luck.”

“What a vote of confidence.”

“Right? Anyway, I got an hour into the impromptu game of hide and seek that you guys didn’t know you were playing before I spotted you.”

Nightwing leaned his head on his hand, his elbow on the table. “Did my uniform colour give me away?”

“Nope,” Phantom shook his head, “The shadows nearby started moving, so I ran. Ended up somewhere in The Narrows, I think. Anyway, The Lady laughed at me when I told her how scary you guys are, and then you popped outta fucking nowhere and scared the shit outta me!”

Nightwing was laughing again, a bit harder this time. “I think-I think I remember something like that! I was just about twelve when that happened. You were so weird!”

“Me?! You’re the one who started talking about what kind of hunters humans are! I swore to never go back to that city after that.”

“Ha! That sounds like something I would’ve said!” He allowed himself a moment to calm down. “I don’t remember you having white hair, though.”

Phantom shrugged. “That’s because I went as a civilian.”

Okay, so Nightwing met Phantom as a civilian before the rest of his family. That’s another point to him! Though, “You came back to Gotham a bit ago..?”

A sigh. “The House of Mysteries likes to drop me in inconvenient places if I don’t have a set destination in mind. Before I opened the door, I was telling Deadman that I wasn’t going to tell him about my first trip to Gotham no matter how much he pushed. Next thing I know, it’s the middle of the day in Gotham, New Jersey, and I’ve got vigilantes surrounding me on all sides.”

Nightwing cringed back. “Yeah…sorry about that.We were going to ambush Signal on his patrol with lunch, and then we saw some guy walk out of a door that hadn’t ever been there before.” He paused. “How’d you get out of Gotham, actually? We were chasing you, and then the graveyard gates shut before we could get in. We staked it out, but the gates didn’t open for another day.”

Phantom rubbed the back of his neck, his embarrassed blush returning. “I asked the Graveyard Spirits to lock you guys out long enough for me to get away. I left them a shiny on a rock before I left via magic.”

“The door thing, right?”

“Yep.”

“Will you teach me how to do that?”

“Maybe some other time.”

It was quiet for another few minutes, neither peaking up. It was comfortable, though it got less so as it dragged on. Nightwing had more questions he wanted to ask and Phantom was afraid of what they might be.

Phantom sighed, deep, from his diaphragm. “Ask your questions.”

Nightwing hesitated a moment more reluctant to say anything. Finally, quietly, he asked, “This seems like a really sensitive topic for you, the portal. Can I ask why?”

He shrunk in on himself more. “You have a lot more tact than Red Robin, I’ll give ya that.”

Nightwing covered his mouth to try and conceal the small gasp that escaped him. “It has to do with how you died, right?” He shook his head. “No, don’t worry about answering that. I’ll get B and the others off your back about this. We’ll find a different solution.”

The door opened, allowing Constantine and Deadman into the room. They sat across from Phantom and Nightwing, but didn’t say anything. They just sat there, offering silent support.

How did they know?

Phantom didn’t want to share his story. Death, ironically enough, is a sensitive topic for the dead/undead/undying. It drags memories to the surface, painful memories more often than not. Memories and phantom pains and echoes of cries.

Even just the passing thought on a bad day makes him feel the electricity killing him, the portal reviving him. He hears his own screams, drowned out by the humming of an entire world opening up on top of and through him.

He can’t stop the tears falling from his eyes.

It’s…it’s been a long time since he told anyone.

Had he ever told anyone?

Sam and Tucker had been with him when he died. None of them ever told Jazz, but she knew because she was his big sister. Dani knew. Dan knew. Vlad and Valerie and Wes all knew. He told mom and dad, but not the whole story. Never the whole story. Constantine and Deadman and the entire Justice League and affiliates all knew he was dead, even a little bit of what happened after, but he hadn’t told them how.

Red Robin knew, but Phantom hadn’t told him.

Was he ready to tell people? Was he ready for them to know? It had been so long since it had happened, but he could still feel the electricity as though it was happening all over again.

“I was fourteen when I died,” he whispered into the stale air of the meeting room, “My parents had dedicated their entire lives to Ecto-ology, the study of ghosts. In college they and a friend of theirs started working on a way to get into the place they called the Ghost Zone. Vlad got sick before they could even finish the blueprints and had to be quarantined at the hospital. When I was fourteen, they finished building it.

“I love my parents, but for being geniuses, they were really dumb sometimes, y’know? They’d built this thing up, eight feet tall, just as wide, and ten feet deep. It was an amazing feat of science and engineering, but when they plugged it in, it didn’t turn on. They left the lab, not bothering to unplug the thing.

“Anyway, I told my best friends about the failed portal and they insisted on going down to the lab to see it. Who was I to tell them ‘no’?” An unwilling victim. “Sam dared me to go inside. And I was fourteen, so backing out of a triple-dog-dare is like making a fool of yourself before a king’s court! So, I went into the portal.

“Somehow, it was darker on the inside despite work lights lining the floor and ceiling. Mom and dad were never huge on lab safety… The one flaw in their blueprints- the one reason that the portal hadn’t turned on, was because the switch had been built inside the dumb thing. I tripped and the next thing I know, I’m on the other side of the room, somehow both dead and alive.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. A small, barely noticeable weight, but he felt lighter nonetheless.

He’d obviously left out details, not even entertaining the idea of telling them how it felt to die.

Deadman’s voice was rough in the room, only barely louder than Phantom’s had been. “There are legends told throughout the Realms about creatures who walk the precarious balance between Life and Death, known collectively as Osiris in the Realms, though humans call them Halfas. Throughout Time, each individual has earned a title, a name to be called. Phantom, King of the Infinite Realms and Her people, was given the title Anubis.”

“So,” Nightwing asked softly, “Are all the gods these..Halfas?”

“No,” the ghost shook his head, “The gods are a different race entirely. They simply share names as titles.”

Constantine looked Phantom in the eye. “Phantom, we need to know what we’re looking for.”

He didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to think about this anymore.

“I’ll draw out the finished product, but it might’ve been changed after such a long time.”

“Speaking of time,” Constantine jumped in again as the ghost went to get some paper and pens, “I’m a bit confused about your timeline of events.”

“Oh?”

“You told me that just about a hundred years have passed since you last saw your Fraid.”

“I did.”

“Huh? But, you said we first met when I was twelve.”

“That’s also true.”

“Things aren’t lining up, kid.”

This time, his sigh was more put-upon and less world-weary. “I told you that Time is weird in the Realms. I have existed in Time for thirty-eight years. My Fraid has existed in Time for a hundred-thirty-eight years. The town I grew up in sits a little to the left of the rest of the world’s Time, meaning that it moved slower than you guys.”

“That…I still can’t…what?”

“Don’t focus too hard on it, it’ll just give you a bigger headache.”

Part 17 Part 19

#Enough Caffeine to Kill an Elephant #part 18 #dc x dp

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