#returned back home. the whole loss and dread of not knowing where to go/what to do when nothing wants you anymore | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loafandfish · 2 years ago

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@marvelfandomsofficial I know you made I request for some Philip angst but I have no idea where the actual request went but here it is!

The Poison of Home// Philip

⚠️ Warning! Major angst, pain, and character death ahead. Read at your own risk⚠️

The Decapolis was a destination many could only dream to see. It was the home to the height of Roman architecture. A land where nations from all over the world became next door neighbors.

It was not a place Y/n had ever desired to go. Despite its beauty from far away, she knew the truth about the city. She knew about the battles between groups of people. The prejudice that poisoned their daily lives. She knew of the corruption that the city thrived on. One small flame would set it on fire.

The reason she knew so well was because she’d grown up there. She knew what the hatred caused, and she’d been a victim. Her family was despised by their own neighbors, a group of lower class Greeks. Once upon a time, the two families were actually rather close. Despite their differences, they were able to get along wonderfully. But one day, for no reason Y/n could recall, that friendship was torn. Overnight, the two became sworn enemies. Now, she barely remembered their kindness, but their stares of disgust had been burned into her memory. Then there was the loss of her father. It was their fault he was gone.

When she left she swore she’d never return.

Yet here she was, traveling with Philip and Andrew toward her old home. When the two had returned to fix their mistake from the missions, they’d dragged Y/n along with them. So far, the two were quite happy, not having seen the real destruction yet. They also hadn't noticed Y/n's immense discomfort. They knew she’d grown up in the Decapolis, but had no idea what her life there was like. For all they knew, she loved her old home.

So there she stood, in the middle of her old street. It had changed plenty but the misery remained the same. Just looking in the general direction of the home left a sick feeling in her gut.

“Are you feeling alright, Y/n? You look a little pale.” Her sweet husband came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her torso. Despite the dread of being home, she smiled at his sweetness. “I’m okay. I guess I’m just not used to being back.”

“It must’ve changed so much since you lived here.” Philip scanned the area, impressed by the professional architecture that lined the streets. “Is anything familiar to you?”

“No not really.”

All except the prejudice.

He began to walk away, grabbing her hand before he got too far. “You should show me your old house! I’d love to see it.”

A jolt of fear shot down her spine. No no no, he would not love to see it. And neither would she.

“There’s no need. It’s completely renovated and all Roman homes look the same.” She waved to the row of nearly identical buildings.

“Fair enough.”

A few moments of silence passed between the couple. Philip interpreted it as reminiscence and promptly kissed her cheek. “I’m going to go find Andrew. I’ll let you stay here for a moment.”

Just like that, Y/n was alone again in the last city she wanted to be. As much as it pained her to keep secrets from her husband, the memories of her last life were like poison, too much to bear. When she left the Decapolis, she became someone new. As selfish as it was, she liked to pretend that her whole childhood had happened to someone else entirely. Someone who looked exactly like her, but was not.

But standing so close to her home made it harder to ignore reality. Her fantasy life was slowly being chipped away piece by piece.

With a shake of her head, Y/n turned in the direction Philip had gone, walking as fast as she could. The longer she stayed there, staring, the longer it would take them to leave.

She finally spotted him in the distance, her pace quickening with each step. She wanted as far away from that street as possible.

Turns out, her husband had not only found Andrew, but a stranger he must have befriended along the way. Philip was naturally charismatic, making it very easy for him to make friends. Y/n always admired that about him.

Just as she caught up to the trio, Philip spotted her, a smile crossing his face. He held out his arms, presenting her like a queen. "Ah and here is my beautiful wife!"

He wrapped an arm around her, gesturing to the stranger. "Y/n, this is Jason. He's Greek."

"Shalom." Y/n offered the man a small smile. His eyes widened in surprise for a moment before returning to normal. The glance was so quick, Y/n believed she had imagined it. He nodded his head in a polite response. "Ah, yes, that's the Jewish greeting isn't it? Shalom to you too! I was just talking to your husband about the ministry of Jesus. It's fascinating!"

"It really is." Her unease began to evaporate. "I still can't believe I'm a part of it."

"It's an honor to meet you." Jason smiled kindly at her, then turned to address the other two. "All of you. In fact, I'd like to invite you to my father's house for dinner."

Andrew shook his head politely. "As much as I love an offer for food, I'm not sure we can-."

"I insist!" Jason clasped his hands, pleading with them. "I'd like to repay you for bringing your message to the Decapolis."

He discreetly glanced at Y/n once more, but none of them noticed. "And for everything else you've done."

"Well who are we to reject such a generous invitation!" Philip grinned when Andrew gave him a concerned look. "Come on, Andy! I've never seen you turn down a good meal before."

He gave his friend a quick pat on the back to reassure him and turned back to Jason. "We're in. Lead the way."

Out of all the places Y/n had imagined to be tonight, sitting around a stranger's table wasn't one of them. A Greek stranger for that matter. Even if the thought had occurred to her, she could never believe they'd be having a pleasant conversation.

Philip had previously asked the meaning behind Jason's name, to which their new friend launched into a fantastical story of the famous Greek hero he was named after. Afterward, Jason began to ask about the Messiah. Andrew and Philip has to take turns describing their journey, to excited to be brief. The scene was nearly perfect, so Y/n was annoyed that the anxious feeling in her stomach had not gone away. She should be thankful for the kindness of this stranger, but knowing she was still in the Decapolis set her on edge. No amount of casual conversation or the promise of food could take that away.

Y/n decided to try and join in the conversation, hoping it would calm her nerves. "So Jason... you said something about your father? Will he be joining us?"

"Yes, of course!" Jason's grin was a little off as he turned to stare into her soul. "He will be pleased to know that you're back in the Decapolis."

Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine as she held his gaze. His lips were turned up in a smile but his eyes were cold. Something was off. And how did he know she used to live here? No one knew this information. How did he know she was back-

Andrew and Philip were the ones who were back. He must've been talking about them. She had asked the question, so no wonder he'd been looking at her. Being in her hometown was no good for her nerves.

"While we wait, why don't I serve drinks?" Jason offered, holding out two cups in his hand, filled with wine. When had he poured it? Y/n really had to stop zoning out so much.

He served her first, then handed the other cups to the two disciples and took a large sip of his own. When he lowered the cup, he froze. "Oh wait, was I supposed to wait for the blessing?"

"Technically, yes." Philip picked up his cup with both hands, bowing his head. "Let me teach it to you."

Andrew and Y/n copied his actions, and Jason followed. Philip spoke the blessing more slowly than usual, hoping that their host would pick up on the words.

When he had finished, they all took a drink simultaneously. Y/n rose a brow at the unique taste. It was a sweet wine, but unlike any she'd ever had before. She was interested in the ingredients. "Who made this wine?"

"That one?" Jason gestured to the cup in her hands. "That's my father's work."

He watched her for a few moments while she took another sip. "Is... is it good?"

She nodded vigorously. "It's different. What's in it?"

Jason shifted on his feet. "You'll have to ask my father. Actually I'll go get him now."

The trio watched their new friend leave the dinning room in a rush. As soon as he was out of sight, Philip leaned over so far their shoulders were touching. "What kind of wine did he give you? Mine tastes normal."

"Mine as well." Andrew piped up, also leaning to get a look. Y/n glanced at the liquid in her glass, but it looked to her like normal red wine. Nothing was special about it.

At that moment, Jason returned, a man following closely behind him. The man, Jason's father she assumed, made eye contact with her and Y/n's blood turned to ice.

It was him. Her old neighbor.

The man who had put her family through torture.

She didn't yell or scream. She didn't even move, she couldn't. She felt like she was dreaming as he sat down directly across from her. Her breath came out short as her heart raced like she'd ran a here from Capernaum.

"Ah." The man plastered on a friendly face as he finally tore his gaze from Y/n. "So these are the men who have caused so much havoc in the city! It's never been so exciting in the Decapolis."

"Exciting?" Andrew frowned in confusion. Nothing seemed very exciting since they'd arrived. The reports of mass a exodus from the city had made their expectations high, but so far they'd encountered none of the sort.

"I have yet to see this havoc." Philip rose a brow, glancing at Andrew. "That's actually what we're here for."

"You can see it clearly from the hillside." He gestured for Jason to begin serving the food. "After we eat we will bring you there."

Andrew and Philip shot each other worried looks and Y/n laced her hand through her husband's. It was to help him but Y/n couldn't deny the touch helped her as well. She needed him to keep her grounded to reality.

The one person she despised so strongly and had caused her so much pain was sitting not five feet away. His mere presence sent a shot of poison though her veins. She should be on high alert, ready to fight or run. Instead her senses seemed to dull the more she looked at him. Her mind knew he was here but her body didn't want to believe it. She was stuck in a dream like state, except it wasn't a dream at all. This was a nightmare.

The food was set in front of them, but Y/n had lost her appetite. Even still, she tried her best to choke it down. Philip and Andrew didn't need to know her troubles. They had enough to worry about already.

Although it tasted delicious, the food didn't sit well in her stomach. A nauseated feeling spread through her, but she didn't let it show.

When the group had finally finished, Y/n felt almost relieved. She needed the fresh air, but more importantly, she needed to get away from this man. Being under his scrutinizing stare for so long had made her feel feverish. She'd looked up from her plate only once and had met his gaze. That's when a cold sweat had broke on her forehead.

She stumbled after the men as they made their way out the door and took a deep breath, wiping her damp face with her sleeve. The cool air on her face seemed to lift a small weight of her shoulders. She followed the group while staying as far away from her nemesis as possible.

Noticing his wife was acting strange, Philip slowed his pace until he walked directly next to her. His eyes filled with concern, but he still offered her a smile, slipping his hand into hers. “What’s wrong, my love? You look like you’re getting sick”

Y/n couldn’t bring herself to feel surprised. So much was wrong. She was living her worst nightmare so she had no doubt she looked ghastly. She hated lying to her husband. She knew it was wrong but she couldn’t tell Philip what was happening. She couldn’t be selfish enough to burden him with her past when he was already so anxious about his own present. They were quite literally on their way to see a mess he beloved he had caused. He didn’t deserve any more pain.

So she went with another answer, although still true. “I’m just worried about what we will see when we get to the hill.”

Philip lowered his gaze to the ground, sighing heavily. “So am I, but whatever happens, we’ll get through it together.”

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and Y/n returned it. Through his suffering he was still comforting her.

It was a short walk to the hillside, but for Y/n it may as well have been hours. She grew dizzy with every step and fatigue had slowed her pace. There was definitely something wrong and it all traced back to the presence of that man. Her enemy who had been further away, but never fully out of sight.

The two men stopped at the hillside, beckoning for the trio to take a look. With a shaky breath, Philip lead Y/n up.

Hear heart dropped at the sight. Hundreds of tents as far as the eye could see covered the valley. Countless of displaced people, roaming around without structure. Refugees in their own land, kicked out by the poisonous hate that ran this city.

A pit formed in Y/n’s stomach, which turned it I a dull ache. The more she scanned the flood of people, the sharper the ache became. It grew until she felt like she was being stabbed.

Neither Philip nor Andrew had moved the entire time. If Y/n looked hard enough, she could see the glint of tears in her husband’s eyes and in that moment she wanted nothing more than to go to him. She knew what he was thinking. As he stared across the see of destroyed lives, be beloved it was all his doing. He had led them here, to this place of misery and sorrow.

Y/n wanted so badly to tell him the truth. It was not the teaching that had drove these people out. It was the centuries old hate. The prejudice that was just waiting for an excuse to act. Philip was not guilty, but he felt a weight as if he was. If Y/n could be granted one wish, it would be to hold him in her arms and never let go.

But she couldn’t move. Her feet stood still, refusing to be lifted. The pain had become so harsh that she had lost control of her body. It took every last ounce of every to stay standing. Her limbs shook with effort and she felt the heat of fever behind her eyes.

Suddenly, there was a hand on her shoulder. It was cold and heavy.

The contact made her jump, sending another shock through her system. Her stomach churned and every inch of her body burned in agony. Her vision had clouded from the feeling. A blurry silhouette of her enemy stood in front of her.

“Are you feeling well?”

The question almost sounded genuine, but there was no missing the malice that laced his voice. He knew what was happening to her. He had expected this.

“What did you do!?” Y/n hissed, digging her fingers into her palm to keep her from fainting.

“I enacted justice.” The man sneered, his voice growing colder with each syllable. “Even your people believe in eye for an eye, no?”

“What did I ever do-?” She was cut off almost immediately.

“Your father murdered my wife!”

A second one of silence passed, but to Y/n it felt like an eternity. There was no way this could be true.

“You liar! He did nothing of the sort.”

“Nothing is exactly what killed her!” Spit flew from his mouth as rage overtook him. Your father was with my wife the day she died. She was attacked by a mob and he didn’t protect her. I trusted him!”

Y/n felt her eye twitch as every bone in her body screamed at her. But she faced the man down.

“That’s why I killed him. He was a murderer.”

He killed him.

He killed her father.

That’s when a new feeling blossomed in Y/n’s stomach. It took over the pain, spreading to every fiber of her body. Pure and unmatchable rage. She took a step forward.

As soon as she moved, the pain came back tenfold. She fell to her knees, unable to think or even feel anything but this agony. Her cry echoed in her head, causing starts to dance in her vision. Philip and Andrew noticed. The man grabbed her by the chin.

“It wasn’t enough. The courts would’ve killed your father for his crimes. But he room someone away from me. Someone innocent. So I have done with same.”

He let go, but Y/n barely noticed.

“The drink you enjoyed, that was a special recipe.”

He stood up straight, towering over her. Y/n’s blurred eye could barely make out the features of his face, but she could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Belladonna wine, I call it.”

Oh.

She was dead.

But in that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care. All that mattered was for the pain to go away. Whatever it took, she would accept it. There was no trying to escape the inevitable. The man who had poisoned her mind had poisoned her body as well. She nearly laughed at the irony of it all.

“Y/n?!” Philip fell to his knees beside her, tucking the hair out of her face. He and Andrew had made it to the bottom of the hill when he’d heard her cry. “Y/n, what’s wrong?!”

His wife couldn’t respond or even acknowledge his presence. Her eyes were shut tightly and Philip wondered if she could even hear him at all.

Behind him, their host spoke up. “Come, Jason. It’s time to go.”

“Go now?!” Philip stared at him in disbelief. “Can’t you see she needs help?”

The man glanced over Y/n one last time and nodded. “Yes I can see that.”

“Well don’t just stand there! Do something!”

Jason had quickly appeared at his father’s side, watching Y/n shake in pain with a guilty look. He casted his eyes to the ground. “There’s nothing you can do.”

Philip ignored him, gently cupping Y/n’s face. She was burning with fever. “It’s alright, my love. I’m here.”

Her eyes fluttered open for only a moment before she gasped, her body falling forward. Philip caught her immediately, pulling her close to him. He barely registered the fact that Jason and his father h stunted to leave until Andrew called them out.

“How could you just go in a time like this? How are you so calm?”

The man turned slowly, his face set in a dead stare. “I did what I had to do.”

Now that got Philip’s attention.

“You did this?!”

He nodded curly in response. “Like I said, it had to be done. I had to rid the world of poisonous people with some poison of my own.”

With a swift turn of his heel, he walked away, dragging his son along with him.

Philip knew he should be furious right now. He should be running after them, demanding a cure. He should be shouting, yelling, and curing the ground that they walked.

But he didn’t.

Instead he was filled with sorrow so powerful that nothing else could overcome it. Not even anger.

He stayed in that spot, his dying wife in his arms. His chest tightened with grief as he held back his tears. For her he would keep them at bay. Y/n had never liked to see him cry.

His hand trailed down her limp arm until his fingers laced with hers. She squeezed his hand so softly it was almost unnoticeable. He pressed a soft kiss on the top of her head, wrapping his arms more tightly around her.

He knew what was coming, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. He always thought they’d have a family together, grow old together, but his dream for the future withered away. He pressed his face into her shoulder, unable to accept reality. All he could do was plead.

“Please stay, Y/n.” He breathed in shakily. “I need you here.”

Andrew stood back, to shocked to move. There was nothing he could do.

“Please don’t go, my love.” He was unable to hold the tears back any longer. They spilled from his eyes, casting the world into a blur. Phillip bright their clasped hands toward his lips, lightly pressing a kiss on her knuckles.

“Please.”

But she could not hear his desperate cries. She couldn’t see the tears on his face. Slowly, the hand that had been holding onto Philip’s slipped away. A shaky breath passed between her lips.

She was gone. Killed by the poison of home.

#marvelfandomsofficial #the chosen #the chosen x reader #the chosen philip

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notchesandbullets · 4 years ago

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The Gentle Giant's Breaking Point (Shoji x Reader)

Art credit: @tonerukun

Requested by: @/smol_angry_rabbit on wattpad

Aged-Up!AU

Warnings: explicit smut, size kink, dirty talk, hickeys, cursing, being overpowered and completely dominated, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, tender aftercare and soft confession

Words: 6.4k

In downtown Musutafu, Shoji, Tokoyami and Ojiro were wandering around the city packed with people on a bright, sunny day. A gentle breeze blew by, swirling around the hundreds of people who decided to get some fresh air for the first time in weeks.

The second the weather warmed up, food stalls and all sorts of vendors were back on the streets. Mouthwatering scents of sesame soba, senbei and taiyaki curled deliciously into the air and wafted over to everyone within the vicinity, enticing them over to buy the scrumptious street food.

At the first sight of spring, the students of UA scattered, all eager to spend their off day outside.

Kaminari, Bakugou, Kirishima and Ashido all went to the pool, the rest of Class 1-A following in a slow trickle.

It first was Hagakure who wanted to tag along, then Uraraka, then reluctantly Jirou followed by the rest of the girls.

Midoriya sheepishly asked if he could come along too, Todoroki following suit since he'd rather be anywhere than at an empty dorm and end up having to go home to his father.

Mineta was only allowed to come with Sero's tape restricting his hands and covering his eyes. He complained the whole way there that it was unfair but no one paid any attention to him.

Shoji let his arms fall to his sides as he strolled around downtown, following Tokoyami.

He hadn't particularly wanted to go anywhere, preferring to stay in the dorms. He didn't know when was the last time where it had actually been quiet. Not since before they moved in.

He didn't really have any complaints about his classmates. If anything, he was rather happy to live in a dormitory. It meant he got to see a lot more of you.

You were best friends with him, preferring to keep to yourself most of the time, just like him.

Maybe that's why you got along so well.

Shoji never tried to bother you but it was inevitable when the last class of the day would be dismissed and everyone paired off or huddled up in their groups to talk about anything and everything. He would just be at his desk, pulling out a book or getting started on his homework so he didn't have to worry about it later and you would come over, plop yourself down in the empty desk next to him and start reading a book without a word.

He didn't mind. He rather liked your company. It was quiet. It was nice.

He was going to ask you if you wanted to come with him, Tokoyami and Ojiro today but you were gone when he woke up. At least he had your number and he messaged you to make sure you were okay.

You responded back pretty quickly that everything was fine, you just had to take care of something first and then you'd meet them at the beach.

Shoji thought nothing of it. So when Ojiro asked if he wanted to come along with them downtown because Tokoyami needed to pick up more art supplies before their next class, he readily agreed.

He honestly didn't expect to see you there, let alone run into you. Literally.

You panted, rounding the corner, your eyes round with fear as adrenaline pumped through your veins. But you weren't watching where you were going.

Crashing into someone's very solid chest, your force knocked them over, sending the two of you toppling over instantly.

Springing up, you quickly apologized. "I'm so sorry!!"

All else blanked from your head as you saw who it was you exactly landed on and your jaw dropped open.

"Shoji?!"

Suppressing a groan, he sat up, encircling your waist carefully to ensure you wouldn't fall.

His brow furrowed in confusion as he helped the two of you up into a standing position, completely ignoring Ojiro and Tokoyami's questioning stares. "What are you doing?"

You opened your mouth to answer him when all of the sudden, you were hit by a blinding light.

Various enraged cries echoed from the alley you had just rushed out of.

"Get back here!!!"

"Shoot." You muttered under your breath. "My paralysis wore off."

"You're using your quirk?!" Ojiro exclaimed in shock. "You know that's against the rules!!!"

You ushered everybody into the nearest store hastily, hiding behind All Might merchandise to keep out of sight. "You want to lecture me now or after we call the police?"

While Tokoyami dialed for the local police, Shoji shifted closer to you, using his dupli-arms to hide you from view.

"Who are they?" He asked you.

He knew you weren't the type to go around causing trouble. If you had used your quirk, it had to be because you were cornered with no way out. He knew you.

And judging by that foreign, hesitant look in your eyes, you knew it, too.

"It's nothing, I'm fine." You mumbled under your breath, refusing to look at him.

Shoji didn't say anything else on the matter, dropping it entirely when a shadow passed over him.

You squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath as the men searched for you, your breath hitching when Shoji's grip around you tightened protectively. Too many times you had imagined his arms around you but this was a scenario you didn't exactly picture.

The sirens wailing outside had you relaxing the tiniest bit, the rest of the tension leaving your body as the police arrested the three men using their quirks to create destruction.

Shoji didn't let you go quite yet though. Not until he was sure every last one of them left.

Pulling back, he allowed you to slip out of his arms. And that's when he saw it.

The blood.

The cut on your cheek was smeared with crimson and he questioned how he didn't notice that sooner.

Cradling your cheek, he angled your face, his jaw ticking as he got a better look at your injury.

"Y/N."

You gulped as he used your first name without any honorific. You knew he meant business and your heart fluttered at how much he seemed to care for you in that moment.

You shoved down your feelings, forcing yourself to breathe normally, dreading that he would notice how nervous you were.

It wasn't that you really had anything to be anxious about, you knew Shoji would never judge you for any reason. Kind-hearted despite how often he had gotten teased when he was younger, he never let it affect him in any way other than pushing him towards his best self.

You always admired that about it.

Shoji was such a gentle giant and you were one of the few he told about his past and what ultimately led him to striving to become a hero.

Which is why you were so caught off guard by the anger simmering beneath the surface of his eyes as he tended to the abrasion on your cheek.

The officers contained the situation quickly, arresting those that were causing chaos. The same gang of boys who were responsible for your injuries. Tokoyami and Ojiro filed out of your makeshift hiding place first, reporting what you had seen before Shoji helped you up and they turned your attention to you.

All three of their expressions changed from quelled worry to disbelief as you denied all allegations they had clearly made against you.

Still, the police officers couldn't go against it if you didn't even admit to it but brought the boys down to the station for processing. They would be able to fit the pieces together later once the camera footage of the convenience store was recovered. Until then, they let you go.

After you refused medical treatment when the police arrived on the scene, absolutely hating hospitals, you trekked back to the dormitory to sort out your injuries.

They were rather mild and you weren't worried about it at all. The hero-in-training hovering over you though, said otherwise.

You sat on one of the many couches in the common area of Heights Alliance so that he could patch you up. It was a good thing that the dorms were empty since everyone was gone for the rare off day that they got.

Shoji had ushered Ojiro and Tokoyami to go on without him to meet up with the rest of their class at the beach, promising that he would look after you and make sure that you didn't actually need a hospital.

But you also thought it was to make sure you weren't going to do anything reckless again.

He had already scolded you for not taking your wounds seriously enough and insisted on treating them, which was a bit weird because he never was one for insisting on anything unless he felt strongly enough about it.

The atmosphere was tense as he put away the rest of the medical supplies, settling for a simple butterfly closure after he cleaned the area.

Now, he was staring at you as if he wanted to devour you. Heat flooded to your lower regions no matter how hard you tried to stop it. It was clear that he was frustrated, borderline angry and upset with you for reasons unclear to you but hope kindled in your heart.

There was no way he liked you like that. He never said anything about it before.

Regardless, no one should look that good while they were enraged. The silent fury simmering beneath the surface of his being was too good of a look on him.

"Are you going to tell me what that was all about?" Shoji questioned, peeling off his mask and revealed a deep-seated frown etched on his face.

Your breath caught in your throat. No matter how many times you saw his face, it never failed to take your breath away and stop time completely.

He was beautiful.

"I-I—" You stammered, at a loss for words due to his vulnerability in front of you. He clearly trusted you a great deal. You wanted to return the gesture.

Your heart rate spiked in nervousness and you swallowed hard.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, your voice got quieter and more solemn as you told him about these people who had been bullying your little brother. Your parents weren't in the picture, and since your aunt, who had taken the two of you in, didn't care much other than making sure you were fed and attending school, you knew you couldn't depend on her for help.

You had been bullied too, something you told your brother the second you walked in one weekend and he burst into tears. You felt horrible. At UA, you were too far away to protect him, but you promised you'd do something about it.

Logically, you knew you should've gone to the authorities. But you were just so blinded by rage and hell bent on revenge for these boys who had struck him across the face and punched him in the eye more than once that you weren't going to let it go on for a second longer.

Shoji was silent when you finished. You played with your fingers in your lap, unsure of what to do. Maybe you talked too much.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Your head snapped up and you gaped. You didn't have an answer for him.

Shoji sighed and his eyes saddened. "You can rely on me, on our friends. We would have helped you."

You looked back down, his gaze too intense for you to hold. He was staring at you too earnestly and you felt the hurt that resonated within him at the actions you didn't take to reach out towards him.

"I know." You whispered. "But I didn't want any of you to get involved."

A discontented noise emitted from the back of his throat and Shoji's mouth pressed in a hard line, clearly disagreeing with you but not voicing it.

The silence turned uncomfortable and you shifted in place, discreetly rubbing your thighs together as a shiver passed through your body.

Your eyes widened as he draped his shawl over you. You gulped as Shoji bulking form loomed over you, your heart now beating faster for another reason entirely.

"S-Shoji?!"

"Mezo..." He murmured. "We're alone. You can call me Mezo."

This wasn't anything new, you had already been comfortable enough to call him by his given name when the two of you were on your own but this was the first time he had requested you to say it before you got a chance to speak it.

He beat you to the punch. How unlike him.

You blushed, arching your back into his touch as he gripped your waist and drew you close to him to warm you up, heat flooding to your lower regions without permission at his low voice. "Mezo."

He groaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck at how intimate his name sounded when it fell from your lips. Physical affection wasn't rare between you two, but it largely remained platonic.

Until now. He couldn't suppress it any longer.

Capturing your lips in a heated kiss, he moved over you, unable to stop himself from pinning you to the couch.

"Ahh~" You moaned as he detached himself from your lips, keening as he continued down, pushing his jacket out of the way for better access to your neck. You weren't against this, but it was going too fast. You wanted him to slow down so that you could at least see him. "M-Mezo, w-wait..."

Stifling a groan, he reluctantly parted from your skin, catching your gaze.

Worried he had made you uncomfortable, he questioned, "Do you not want this?"

After you shook your head so violently that he was surprised you didn't knock into anything, he raised an eyebrow when you didn't express anything else.

"Then what's wrong?" Shoji asked lowly, voice gravelly and giving away just how much of an effect you had on him.

You bit your lip shyly at how you probably looked. Spread out for him, flushed to the core and panting. Your mind was racing. He had kissed you.

"S-Someone could walk in," You objected, stammering as you were only half aware that you guys were in the common area. "Don't you think we should— holy shit!!"

While you were protesting, he took the opportunity to latch onto the sweet spot under your neck, sucking harshly.

You couldn't help but whimper, your hands splayed against his broad chest as he continued to paint your skin with splotches of purple and pink.

"Mezo, come on, we should— eep!!"

Fed up with your objections as it hindered his passionate onslaught to your supple skin, Shoji hooked your legs around his waist, his huge hands cupping your ass as he practically sprinted to his room.

This time, your lips descended onto his, connecting the two of you together all the way there. You rocked against his hard-on pressed in between your bodies, moaning into his mouth as your core throbbed with need.

A growl ripped from the back of his throat as you did, and he leaned down to lay you on his bed, never separating himself from you for a second.

Cupping his face with both of your hands, you parted your lips, letting him explore your hot cavern. He slotted his body between your hips.

The two of you groaned in tandem as one of your hands slithered down to cup the stiff bulge and you whimpered when he pressed his knee against your clothed core. The pressure made slick pool in your panties and caused it to stick uncomfortably to your wet folds.

"Y/N..." He breathed shakily, his eyes clouded, giving away how much you affected him. "Can I—"

"Yes, please." You cut him off, unable to wait a second longer. "Please, Mezo, fuck me?"

Shoji's eyes widened and his cock got impossibly harder, straining against the confinements of his pants as he heard you beg for him. Beg for his cock to fill you up.

Fuck, that was so hot.

Your core was already throbbing with the need to have him inside of you. If he didn't do something soon you were sure you were going to combust.

Seeing his hesitancy as his fingers danced along the waistband of your pants, you quickly got tired of waiting and undressed by yourself, throwing your clothes in an uncaring heap onto the floor.

His eyes grew round in awe as your bare skin, breasts and that special place between your legs was revealed for him to freely drink in as you laid out before him, not an ounce of shame coloring your cheeks, save for the pink tips of your ears.

Cute.

Your back arched as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples, his big hands kneading the soft flesh, going harder when your response spurred him on. You whined as he flicked the pebbled tit, crying out as he bit down on it gently, a shock shooting through your system.

Shoji was studying every single one of your reactions to his touch, drinking it up as his eyes devoured you with barely restrained hunger.

"So... you like to be treated roughly..." He mused as he pulled upwards, your body following his touch as he let go of your breasts abruptly. "That's very interesting."

You whimpered in protest but that faded as he took his shirt off, the defined and sculpted muscle enough to make you forget what you were about to complain about. He was ripped, his torso flexing powerfully as he threw his shirt in the direction of the growing pile of clothes.

Licking your lips, you pulled him down to his level as he hastily undid the button of his pants, shoving it just past his hips so that his cock sprang free.

Your jaw dropped. He wasn't wearing underwear?!

Aside from that, he was fucking huge. How was even going to fit inside of you?!

You weren't given any time to dwell on his size as a finger probed your entrance. Your hands shot down to his wrist instinctively.

"M-Mezo, I'm s-sensitive—!!"

You cut off with a cry as he slipped it in, stretching you out.

Shoji closed his eyes, trying to restrain himself but you were just so hot and tight, pulsing around his finger like nothing else he ever felt.

"Is it too much?" He asked caringly, kissing you to ease you through it. You were unbelievable tight, he could already feel you clenching down on his single digit. "Do you want to stop?"

If your mind wasn't clouded with lust, you would've picked up on the subtle teasing lilt of his voice, as though he already knew what you were going to say.

"No..." You protested, squeezing your eyes shut, unknowingly doing exactly what he expected.

You could take it. You wanted him to make you take it.

Your eyes widened as he cursed behind you and that was when you realized that you said that last part out loud.

Oops. You were really in for it now.

You gasped in surprise as his hands released your wrists, but it was only temporary as he hooked your legs around his waist before he was immobilizing you again. Struggling slightly even though you were clearly overpowered, you begged for him to let you touch him before you died but he refused, shutting you up with a passionate kiss that stole your breath away.

Your body lurched and you wailed as he finally sank into your cunt, moaning and panting like a dog in heat as he sheathed his massive member all the way inside of your spasming channel.

A broken whimper of his name fell from your lips as his hips finally pressed flush against your ass, mewling as his balls rested against your puckered hole. You buried your face into his neck, ashamed of your reaction. He had barely done anything yet and already you felt like you were on the brink of cumming.

"Mezo—" You warned breathlessly, mouth gaping at the sheer size of him, your hole struggling to adjust. "Ngh!!"

Shoji braced himself up on his forearms, swearing under his breath as you clamped down around him. His fingers laced with yours from where he was still pinning your arms over your head, bending down to kiss you in order to distract you from the stretch.

You were hot, tight, and squeezing him with so much force, he already felt like he was going to cum. Stuttering out your name, he hissed as you clenched around him again.

"Y-Y/N, stop— don't do that." He begged, one of his hands fisting in your hair as he held onto his last thread of restraint while you adjusted to his size.

"C-Can't help it, Mezo." You whimpered, scratching his broad back as you fought the urge to arch your hips, knowing that was just going to encourage him to move before you were ready. "You... You're so big."

He had never prided himself on things like this, by how much he received praise or compliments from others so that he didn't have to question the authenticity of it, preferring most times to simply acknowledge it then let it go so that it didn't go to his head.

But he couldn't help it with you. There was something about the way you said it that ignited a flame of passion inside of him and it could not be put out.

Your nails dug into his back and a moan ripped from your throat as you felt him swell inside of you, catching on your walls without even trying.

"M-Mezo?!" You cried out in shock. "Why are you getting, oh fuck—"

A guttural groan sounded in the empty space and he let go of you, straightening up.

"You're so tight and warm." Shoji moaned, his left hand fisting the sheets as he gave a few experimental rolls of his hips, the other caressing your hip while his eyes fixated on where the two of you were joined together. "You feel like heaven, Y/N."

You squeaked in mortification as he said that, clapping a hand over your mouth as he thrusted into you harder, unable to contain the sounds spilling out of your mouth any longer. He felt so good inside of you. Pulsing and hot, thick and hard, it was a wonder how you were delirious with pleasure on his cock.

"Fuck..." You hissed through clenched teeth, your eyes tightly screwed shut.

Shoji stilled instantly, worried he had hurt you. His eyes scanned over your flushed face in concern.

"Are you alright? Do you want to stop?" He asked quickly and would've pulled out of you if your legs didn't lock around his hips, preventing him from even thinking about it a second longer.

You desperately shook your head then yanked him down to your level.

"Go fast, Mezo, fuck me hard." You pleaded. "Please."

There was no time to feel embarrassed by the words that came out of your mouth as he obliged instantly. Stars blinded your vision and you arched into his touch as he fucked you with a vigor that wasn't present before.

Shoji slammed your wrists down above your head and he kissed you hard, all of it teeth and tongue as he licked away your whimpers before they could break the symphony of wet skin slapping against skin that broke through the still atmosphere of his room.

Both of you were glad everyone was gone for the day because with how much noise you were making, it was clear what was going on.

His lips glossed over your pulse point, licking and sucking at the flushed skin there, marking you once again.

You shivered at the sensation of having him pressed against you and yet still attending to you with the same care you had come to expect from him. Your best friend now turned lover. If this was going to be more than a one-time deal.

"Mezo!!" You cried out as he finally pulled away from your neck, satisfied with the purple that bloomed there.

Shoji's teeth sank into your shoulder as he came deep inside of you, painting your walls with hot, thick and sticky ropes of cum.

You whimpered as he emptied in your ripe cunt, his release setting off yours and the powerful shockwaves of your orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami, causing your body to tremble uncontrollably. The copious amounts of his cum leaked out the instant he pulled out of you and your hole fluttered, no longer having his length to stuff you to the brim. You felt a bit sad now that you were left empty, and sat up, thinking that you guys were done.

How wrong you were.

You didn't have to look down to see that he was still hard as his cock pressed against your inner thigh the moment he kissed you again.

"Mezo?!" You shrieked, moaning wantonly against his lips as he moved over you once more. "How are you still hard?!"

He groaned, obviously in discomfort for having been denied even though he just came. "I'm sorry, Y/N, I need to cum again to make it go down."

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips at the sight of the leaking head and you moved to try and suck him off, wanting nothing more than the taste of him on your tongue as he shot his last load inside your mouth but he shook his head and stopped you short.

"You don't have to do that." Shoji said quickly, his cheeks flushing pink as he imagined you with your ass up as your cheeks were stuffed with his cock. Fuck, you'd look so good like that. But he had something else in mind.

Your eyes had glazed over a long time ago from the pleasure that he delivered to your system.

"I want to." You implored, batting your eyes at him, pupils blown wide.

Shoji surged forward, kissing you harder than last time and you melted into his touch. Any other time, he wouldn't fight you on it. But he didn't want to make you work any harder, even if it looked like you really wanted to suck him off. For now, he was content just to see you like this.

Spread out in front of him for only his eyes to see.

"Can you lay like this, Y/N?" He asked, gently maneuvering you onto your tummy and perking your rear up as a hand trailed down your spine to get you into the position he wanted to see you in. "I'll finish quickly."

You moaned quietly, still turned on and horny from before. Even though he had satisfied you so completely, there was a part of you that still longed to have him again.

You wanted him to stuff his cock in you like this.

So you couldn't help but mess with him a bit as the slick sounds of him jerking himself off started and breathy moans fell from his lips. You could go another round for him.

Poking out your ass a bit more, you smiled to yourself as his breath hitched and his movements stuttered. Swaying it from side to side purposefully to entice him, you were shocked when it worked a little too well, bringing out the beast in the tame boy that was your best friend.

Your eyes shot open and your jaw dropped open in a soundless cry as he pushed into you without warning, sinking his fat cock balls-deep into your pussy still quivering with the aftershocks of your last orgasm.

"Mezo!! Ahhh—" You cried out, caught off guard but unbelievably turned on so much that it filled you with shame.

A messy mixture of your juices and his thick cum pushed out of you as he rammed into you all the way to the hilt and all the oxygen disappeared from your lungs.

The sloppy sounds of your cunt making as he fucked you into his bed had you gripping onto his pillow and slamming it against your face to curb all the noises that were tearing from your throat.

It was yanked out of your grasp a second later.

"Don't hide, let me hear you." Shoji begged, unable to help himself from shoving his cock into the deepest parts of your little cunny. You looked so pretty spread out underneath him like this, at his mercy entirely as he pinned you down. Your arousal ran down your thighs as he continued to fuck you, his fat cock stuffing your hole perfectly.

Like you were made for him.

He threw his head back, he redoubled his efforts to make you feel as good as your pussy was making him feel.

"You look so beautiful when you're taking my cock like this." Shoji whispered to himself in awe, disbelieving that his dream was finally coming true after all this time as he watched his length disappear into you over and over again, completely entranced. "Feels so good, hhgh—!!"

Your hole fluttered around his thick girth, struggling to take his size as he pumped in and out of you at an alarming speed.

Whining, you could do nothing else but take it as he pounded you raw and rough, his hips slapping into your ass with a vigor that blanked your mind and left you gasping at the sensation.

Your wrists, still pinned down by his hands as his duplicated gripped your hips for stability as he got you closer to that peak, strained against his strength as the pressure built up in your stomach. "Mezo...'m gonna... gonna—"

"Gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Cream your cunny on my cock?" Shoji murmured, reducing his thrusts to sharp ruts, focusing all his attention on that little spot that made you see stars. "C'mon, give me one more. I need it."

That did it.

Your orgasm washed over you and your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your body trembling violently as he continued to push your limits, pumping in and out of you erratically before emptying himself into you with a deep groan.

Face flushed and eyes glassy, stilling rolling back from the throws of the intensity of your orgasm, you panted, twisting back to meet him in a kiss much softer and more loving than all the previous ones.

Now that his pent up frustration had been dealt with in the best possible way, he pulled out of you with a soft grunt, kissing you wordlessly when you whined at the loss of him.

Shoji hushed you softly as he cleaned the mess dripping out of you with a warm washcloth, urging you to go to the bathroom.

You couldn't stand up though, lacking the strength after that very thorough dicking down he gave you. Legs like jelly, you would've collapsed to the floor if he didn't catch you in time, pulling you up to his chest to carry you the rest of the way.

You hid your face in the crook of his neck as he took care of you, seeing as how all your energy was depleted. Slapping his chest halfheartedly in embarrassment as he chuckled when you jolted as he cleaned the sore but achingly sensitive bud between your legs.

Shoji nudged your ear with his nose, murmuring softly. "Are you alright?"

You hummed, eyelids heavy as you started to drift off.

He kissed the top of your head before bringing you back to bed so that you could take a nap. Somewhere between the walk from his bathroom to his bed, you stirred, arising from your light slumber only to be met with a concerned expression.

"Calm down, Mezo," You giggled, pecking him on the lips softly. "I'm good."

His shoulders slumped in relief. He was kind of worried he had broken you after a session like that. Scratching the back of his neck once you laid down, he hesitated before speaking.

"Don't worry me like that again. You're too reckless for your own good." He told you, anxiety resting heavy on his features.

You wiggled your eyebrows at him suggestively. "I don't know... That was a pretty good punishment if you ask me."

Shoji rolled his eyes but a hint of a smile played upon his lips. "I'm serious, Y/N."

Your smile disappeared and you nodded solemnly, sheepish now that you had been chastised.

"I know, I'm sorry." You apologized quietly, remorseful. You hadn't meant to worry him or any of them really. You honestly thought that you could handle it.

You had fought villains before, you thought you could tame a few punk kids who were bullying your little brother. You almost felt ashamed that they had managed to best you.

The initial idea was to capture them and report them to the authorities, since they were a part of a crew who liked to rob stores for fun, but the tables turned on you when they freely used their quirks on you.

Luckily, you had been able to dodge most of them, only sustaining minor damage from an attack you hadn't avoided in time.

Shoji knelt down by the bedside and your brow furrowed when he didn't climb under the covers with you.

"Mezo?" You squeaked when he engulfed you in a hug, all your insecurities melting away as his warmth flooded you.

He trembled as you said his name but otherwise didn't move. Instead, he mumbled something against your neck and you laughed.

"I can't quite hear you." You teased him, prying him away to get a good look at his eyes. They were swirling with an unknown emotion and you swallowed hard. "What's wrong?"

Shoji stared at you, his gaze boring into your soul as he took down all your walls you had built up around your heart to protect yourself with an ease that shocked you.

"Rely on me." He murmured, lacing his fingers with yours and gulping at how small your hands were compared to his. "I want you to rely on me like..."

You couldn't breathe. It sounded like...

"Like what?" You prompted breathlessly, not daring to hope that he was going to say what you so longed to hear from him.

His cheeks pinked and he turned away from you. "Nothing."

Your heart sank into your chest and you visibly deflated.

"Oh..." You said softly, expression saddening when he refused to look at you.

Gathering the sheets around you to cover your naked body, you suppressed a shiver as the cold air got through and you blindly reached around for your clothes on the floor.

Shoji's mouth pressed in a hard line and he shook his head. Any other time, he would be there to help you but not now. Not when his mind was racing with the possibilities of what could go wrong if he confessed his true feelings for you right here and now.

It was overwhelming him and he felt overtaken by fear that you would reject him, destroying the close friendship you had.

But...

"Y/N."

You straightened up, fumbling with the sheet as it accidentally slipped. But you blushed when Shoji draped his shawl over you, his scent filling your nose and you tripped over your words, thoroughly flustered for some kind of explanation as to why you were reacting like you were back in your first year of high school.

"I like you."

You balked, jaw dropping open in shock.

Shoji actually jumped back, startled as you swore in front of him.

"You're kidding."

His brow furrowed in confusion and he crossed his arms. "No, I'm perfectly serious."

You shook your head. There was no way that he, the coolest, most respectable and kindest guy you have ever met and had the privilege of calling your best friend, liked you back.

But judging by that affronted look on his face, you might've jumped to conclusions too soon.

Warily, you approached him, abandoning the search for your clothes.

You hastily apologized. "I'm sorry, I guess it's hard to believe how someone like you would be interested in me."

Now in front of him, you had a chance to see how much he towered over you. It was different from when you would hang out in each other's rooms where he would crouch down on the floor or sit on a chair so that the height difference wasn't so obvious.

But you felt safe as he curled his arms around you tentatively, even though it was such a contrast to how he was fucking the brains out of you earlier.

"Well, I do." Shoji murmured into your hair as he brought you in for a hug, firm and unyielding in his feelings for you even though you had yet to say anything.

You hadn't said it back but you hadn't shot him down either. He didn't know if it was foolish to hope for a chance that you would want to be with him too, or perhaps, oh no, had he made you uncomfortable?

Maybe you weren't saying anything because you didn't know how to reject—

"I like you too." You mumbled into his chest.

This time, Shoji was the one to do a double take. "Y/N?!"

"Oh hush." You said, hiding your face from his frantic gaze so that he couldn't see how red your face was. Confessing feelings was exhausting and now you wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with your new boyfriend.

Shoji's chest rumbled underneath your fingertips and just when you thought your face couldn't burn anymore out of embarrassment and shyness, he leaned back and tipped your chin up.

"I'm glad you return my feelings." He smiled, a pure smile that radiated the most wholesome level of happiness possible and your heart skipped a beat.

You found you mirrored his joy instinctively, it was contagious. And when he closed the distance to kiss you once more, it sealed a pact that would stay forever and could never be broken.

"I think I'll have to be more reckless from now on." You breathed when he finally pulled away and a small pout formed on his lips.

"Y/N..." Shoji warned, not finding your joke funny in the slightest.

You giggled, looping your arms around his neck as you stood on your tiptoes, booping his nose with yours. "I'm kidding, but I do think it was worth it."

He raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

You grinned, a cheeky smile that told him he hadn't seen the last of your mischief.

"Because it finally got you to confess."

Taglist: @katsukis-sad-angel

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seijorhi · 4 years ago

Text

Finders Keepers

the long awaited (sorry!) zombie au. hope y’all enjoy

Seijoh 4 x female reader & Miya twins x female reader

TW Blood, gore, angst, um... toxic relationships?

“Let me see.”

It’s little more than a murmur, but in the quiet stillness of the night your voice carries. It hardly matters; Oikawa has you close, tucked under his arm with his injured leg stretched out between the two of you. He could stop you if he really wanted, but he only watches, those tired, wary eyes fixed on your face as you reach for his pants.

“It’s fine,” he grunts out, yet he can barely get the words out before he’s hissing through his teeth – a knee jerk reaction to the scrape of rough fabric against his wound. His fingers are digging painfully into your arm, and it doesn’t make a difference how gentle you try to be, how many stammered apologies fall from your lips, your fingers are stiff and clumsy and his pants are caked with dried blood and grime, hindering the process.

Pursing your lips, you glance up. “This would go easier if you took these off, you know.”

He cracks a smile at that, strained and tense, but your chest still flutters at the sight of it. “If you wanna get my pants off so badly, cutie, all you had to do was ask.”

“Tooru,” you begin, but he sighs heavily and that brief flicker of mirth glimmering in his eyes fades. Reaching over he picks up his hunting knife, pressing the handle into your palm and letting his fingers slowly curl around yours. The weight of it feels unwieldy and foreign in your hand, and you can’t quite say for sure if the way your breath picks up and hitches is due to your nerves or the way Oikawa’s watching you, his warm hand still wrapped around yours.

“Cut it, then.”

The knife helps, shearing through his pants like butter, but the wound itself is messy – torn threads plastered to congealed blood and dirt – and blunt fingernails sink into your skin and Oikawa grits out a curse when you try to gently ease them free.

It’s worse than you’d thought. A lot worse. Raked over his right knee, five gouges, jagged and gruesome, raw flesh and muscle exposed beneath. Your stomach roils at the sight of it, bile creeping up your throat, and for a moment you’re astounded by how calm he is, sitting there beside you.

If it were you, you’re fairly sure you’d be rolling on the ground howling by now, but the only hint of pain Oikawa’s face betrays is the tightness of his jaw, teeth clenched even as he looses a shuddering breath.

“I-I’ll go see if I can find something to…” to what? Clean the wound? Stitch it? You’re not an idiot, unless this little cottage has an incredibly well stocked first aid kit, you know you’re in trouble. And even if it does, beyond the very basics of clean, disinfect and bandage, you don’t know how the hell you’re supposed to fix this.

Iwaizumi was always the one to stitch up their wounds, muttering obscenities under his breath and glaring at them the whole time. It was their own idiot faults for putting themselves in a position where they could get hurt in the first place, he’d say, they could deal with a little pain while he fixed them up. But as you stare at the grisly mess of Oikawa’s knee, there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that this might be beyond even Iwa’s level of expertise.

It doesn’t matter anyway, because Iwa isn’t here.

Makki and Mattsun aren’t either.

And strangely enough, it’s not the fear of the creatures lurking in the woods that’s gnawing at your gut. It’s Oikawa’s injury, the blood and mangled mess that you can’t even begin to fix, the thought of the trap that’s awaiting the others back at the sanctuary. It’s that feeling of helplessness that’s tightening around your neck like a noose.

“Hey,” Oikawa calls, snagging at your wrist when you try to pull away. “They’ll find us, have a little faith.”

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you nod. “I know.”

You don’t have the guts to tell him that that’s only half the problem.

Making do with vodka and some old bandages you’d scrounged up from a first aid kit under the sink, you do what you can for Tooru’s knee. Working by the light of a few flickering candles, your hands shaking like a leaf, it's a job easier said than done, and you can’t help but wince at every pained hiss and grunt that escapes him.

It’s a hack job, a bandaid over a gaping wound, but he thanks you for it anyway, pressing an affectionate kiss to your temple as he drags you closer once more. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he murmurs, and the words hang heavy over the both of you; a promise and a sobering reminder in one.

Tucked up in his embrace, you shut your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep.

Yet the moment you do, you’re right back there again: the hallway doors bursting open and the undead pouring through. Rotting and snarling, the sound of panicked shrieks tearing through the sanctuary in their wake.

Tooru’s hand in yours, yanking you along as he ran. Your heartbeat, pounding in your ears as you gasped for breath, your chest burning. And the fear, the horror that threatened to choke you as the others fell behind, their frantic pleas turning into agonised screams.

Everybody else first. The words spoken before any one of them left the safety of the sanctuary; you’d always assumed it was a grim kind of joke between the boys, a good luck charm. How many times had you heard Mattsun laugh it, clapping Iwa on the shoulder, or Makki for that matter, or Oikawa?

‘Come home safe’, you’d thought it meant, not ‘rip the guns out of other survivors’ hands and throw them back into the path of the oncoming undead’.

And then you’d stumbled, tripping over your own two feet. You remember Oikawa cursing, the pain that radiated up your knees and the palms of your hands as you hit the floor hard, and the absolute, bone chilling terror that surged through you when you looked up and saw one of the undead creatures lunge for you; jaw hanging loose, more ripped flesh and gristle than an actual mouth–

Oikawa was too far away, too slow, and even if he wasn’t, you’d just witnessed the lengths he’d go to for self preservation. You’d screamed for him anyway, squeezing your eyes shut and praying you’d go quickly when those fingers and yellowing teeth dug into your flesh and ripped you apart.

And in the space of a single petrified heartbeat, three shots had rung through the air, a warm wetness splattering against your cheek. Tooru was there, kicking the rotting corpse away from you and hauling you back to your feet, back safely against his side.

But the next one was quicker, leaping over the husk of its fallen friend, snarling and bloody and savage, and then it was Tooru who was screaming, undead fingers sinking into the flesh of his leg, ripping as it tried to claw him back.

Heart pounding viciously, your eyes shoot open in the darkness.

Even with the reassurance of Oikawa’s frame pressed up behind you, his breath warm against your skin, sleep doesn’t come easy, and the dawn brings little reprieve.

Stupidly, you’d hoped – prayed – that somehow through the night he might’ve gotten better. It was early in the morning when you’d felt him start to shiver against you. You’d tried to roll away, to give him space so you wouldn’t accidentally knock his leg, but Tooru was having none of it, burrowing in closer, his grip tightening.

And when you’d felt him start to sweat, his arms becoming sticky and clammy, his shirt dampening at your back, that slow, cloying sense of dread took root inside of your stomach.

Under the first rays of morning light, the true extent of Oikawa’s condition is unignorable. Without the luxury of being able to properly close the wound, blood’s seeped through the bandages overnight, leaving them a mottled, macabre red. His face is pale, a thin sheen of sweat dotting at his brow and with every shallow, rattling breath he takes, his body trembles.

It’s more than just simple blood loss.

You think for a moment that he’s unconscious, long lashes fanned out over flushed cheekbones, but the moment you reach for the bandages, his eyes snap open. “Don’t,” he rasps.

You frown, “Tooru–”

“No,” he says. “It’s fine. Leave it alone.”

Between him and Iwaizumi, and to a certain extent, Makki and Mattsun, you’ve never had much of a say in how things are run. You’ve never questioned that they’re the ones in charge, Oikawa most of all. They’re the ones who’ve kept you safe, kept you alive all this time, and all they’ve ever asked of you is that you do what they say.

And you have. Always. Because without them, you’d be dead. You don’t have to pick up a gun and fight, because they do it for you. You don’t have to go on supply runs because they take care of it, they take care of you. And it’s never mattered whether it’s just been the five of you out there alone, or if you were banding together with other survivors; that’s never changed – no matter how many dirty looks it earned you from the others.

You are their responsibility, but in return, you do what they tell you without question.

But this–

This isn’t like that. This isn’t you begging Iwaizumi to take you with him on perimeter patrol because you’ve been cooped up for what feels like weeks, or pouting because they’re deliberately keeping things from you again.

And maybe they have kept you in the dark, but you’re not blind and you’re not stupid. The reality of this situation hasn’t escaped you.

The sanctuary’s overrun, and if – when – Iwa, Makki and Mattsun make it back, they’ll be walking into an ambush. Even if by some miracle they do manage to all make it out unscathed and somehow figure out a way to pick up your trail, there’s no telling how long it’ll take for them to find their way back to you.

(You can’t bear to think about the possibility of them not coming home; you won’t.)

Right now, it’s just you and Oikawa, stuck in some abandoned cottage in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a rifle and a baseball bat between you. You have no food, no supplies and he’s getting weaker by the minute.

You’re terrified.

And you don’t have the luxury of sitting back and letting somebody else take care of you anymore. You don’t stand a chance of survival without Oikawa, and right now he doesn’t stand a chance without you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shake your head. “Okay, I won’t touch it, but I’m not just going to sit here and watch you get worse.” Smoothing your palms over your lap, you take a deep breath in through your nose. “There’s a prison–”

“No.”

“Tooru–”

“I said no,” he snaps.

Biting back a sigh, you try again, “Tooru, there might be supplies there,” you plead. “Painkillers, antibiotics, something that might help–”

“I don’t need antibiotics and you’re not leaving. We need to stay here where it’s safe until the others find us,” he grits out, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Normally, this would be the point that you’d back off, running off to lick your wounds before he decided to get mean, but even as some part of you cowers at the mere thought of upsetting him, this time you don’t back down.

He watches warily as you lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek, gently smoothing damp brown locks back from his sweat slicked forehead. “I don’t know when Iwa’s coming back,” you murmur. “But until he does, the prison’s our best chance, if I can just–”

“No!” he snarls, cutting you off once again.

His eyes are manic now, blown wide and glazed over, he’s shivering, his breath a faint rattle – but his grip is iron, long fingers clutching at you desperately when you jerk back with a gasp.

“You don’t leave me.”

You don’t want to.

It’d be easy not to, to sit and stay with him and pretend that your world isn’t falling apart and he isn’t dying. You’ve never been a fighter, always too soft, too weak, too naive to survive out there on your own. The thought of setting one foot outside of that door without him by your side fills you with absolute terror, but what other options do you have?

He might not like it, but you’re out of time – this decision isn’t his to make anymore.

“Tooru, I-I have to, you know–”

“No!” he snaps, dragging you closer. “You’re not leaving me, I won’t fucking let you!”

Your hand trembles when you reach up to take his, easing it from your shirt and bringing it to your lips. Tears spill from your lashes, falling in heavy droplets against the back of his hand as Oikawa makes a pained sound.

“Please don’t go.”

You both know he can’t stop you.

“Keep the gun,” you tell him, mustering up a tight, watery smile. “Anything but Iwa and our boys comes through that door, shoot it.”

—

It seems a cruel, twisted joke that you find a perfectly good truck sitting a little ways up the driveway, just begging to be used – with no way of getting it started.

Mattsun always made hot wiring look so easy, tossing you a wink when the engine rumbled to life, as if it was a neat little party trick he’d pulled out just to impress you. He did it so quickly, so smoothly, ripping the wires out and sparking them like it was second nature, but he’d never bothered to actually explain what he was doing to you.

And why would he? Between the four of them, there’d always be somebody else to take care of it for you. It’s the same reason they never taught you how to shoot, never taught you how to fight beyond the very basics of self defence.

Now, trudging along the side of the barren road with nothing but your baseball bat and a canteen of water slung over your hip, you find yourself wishing you’d paid a little more attention. Ten miles hadn’t seemed that far on paper – it was less than the trek back into town and you’d figured a safer bet, but walking around in broad daylight without any kind of real protection feels like you’re begging to be preyed upon. Yet by some stroke of luck (and despite that persistent nagging sense that you’re being watched) you manage to make it to the perimeter gates without coming across another soul, dead or alive.

The towering brick walls topped with spirals of barbed wire that line the prison complex are as imposing as they are unbreachable, and for a moment, standing there staring up at them, you feel a crushing sense of disappointment. You’ve walked over two hours, left Tooru in pain and alone for nothing. There’s no way in hell you’re gonna be able to scale those walls, and without any kind of bolt cutters or firepower, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to get past the front gates.

Iwa would’ve known that. Iwa would’ve been better prepared.

But as you draw closer to the guardhouse, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that it’s not a problem. The heavy wrought iron gate’s already unlocked and open, creaking in the breeze. And really, that should have been the first warning sign, but you’re too busy thanking your lucky stars as you slide on through to pay attention to things like that.

The courtyard is just as deserted. The crunch of gravel underfoot echoes too loud, setting your nerves on edge as you make your way towards the imposing structure. It’s quiet, eerily so – even the birds seem to have disappeared. Is this how all raids feel, you wonder as you climb the steps towards the door. This sense of foreboding dread that settles in your stomach, the goosebumps that prickle down your arms?

Your grip tightens around the handle of your bat and you press gingerly against the door – just like the guardhouse gate, it gives under your touch, swinging open wide. It’s dark inside; you hadn’t thought to bring a torch and with the absence of any windows lining the corridor it’s near pitch black. Your heart hammers inside your chest, every cell in your body screaming at you to turn around and run back to Tooru, but you’ve come this far already.

The undead flock to fresh, living meat. It’s been months since the outbreak began; anyone unfortunate enough to have found themselves trapped inside when it happened is probably long dead, and any of the undead likely long gone.

It’s just a little darkness.

Steeling your nerves you creep through the black, clutching tightly at your bat, toeing your way down the corridor waiting for your eyes to adjust to the dim. Every breath you draw in feels too loud, every step too obnoxious. Deserted or not, the sooner you can find the med-bay, get what you need for Oikawa and get out, the better.

The layout’s simple enough – five looming multi-storied wings breaking off like fingers from the central watch-tower, but you don’t have a clue which one holds what you’re seeking. Your only option is to search them one by one and hope for the best.

You’d expected steel bars and heavy locks, but the prison reminds you strangely of a school instead; long hallways lined with doors, each with a tiny window to peek through. They’re all open now of course, whatever locking mechanism keeping them shut having failed when the generators ran out. The first few are empty, barren and stripped of everything but soiled mattresses – it should be a relief.

There’s nothing waiting for you in the darkness but empty halls and emptier rooms. If the others were here, they’d be teasing you for sure. Or Makki and Mattsun would, at least. You always were such a scared little baby – their scared little baby – you’d jump at your own shadow if you didn’t have them around.

And it’s easier to keep going imagining them there by your side, the jokes they’d crack, the warmth of Iwa’s hand in yours, or Makki’s arm slung over your shoulder. You’d feel safe with them. You wouldn’t need to feel afraid.

But no amount of pretend comfort is enough to allay the heavy sense of dread that’s sitting in your stomach, growing harder and harder to ignore with every passing minute. And the problem, you realise, with the prison being so deadly quiet is that every noise, no matter how quiet, echoes.

Climbing the stairs in the dark, you don’t notice the slickness on the walls either side of you, the red handprints smeared messily over white paint. You don’t see the broken, bloody fingernails littering the steps beneath you.

You hear it though, when you reach the landing. It’s soft. A quiet, wet squelching, ripping–

There’s no screams accompanying it like there were back when the sanctuary was overrun, but it’s not a sound you’re gonna be able to forget any time soon. In the dark you freeze, not daring to so much as breathe as you peer down the endless corridor, trying to pinpoint which of the cells it’s coming from.

In the end, you decide that it doesn’t matter.

They’re quicker when they’ve fed, stronger too, and there’s not a chance in hell that you’re going to be able to fumble past in the dark without drawing that thing’s attention. The wooden bat in your hands feels heavy, your palms already slick with sweat. You weren’t quick enough back at the sanctuary; without Tooru, that thing would’ve eaten you. And suddenly it seems laughable that you came out here, that you genuinely thought you could handle this – fight one of them off if it came down to it.

Tooru needs those meds, you know that, and you might be useless and weak and absolutely paralysed with fear, but you’re not stupid. You can’t help him at all if you’re torn apart by one of those creatures.

Your pulse racing, a potent mix of adrenaline and sheer, unrelenting terror coursing through your veins, you draw in a quiet breath, slowly lifting your foot to back away. It hasn’t heard you yet, and so long as it’s distracted–

“Oi, hurry up! I know what I saw, she came in this way.”

“Jesus, just shut up for a sec, wouldja! Ya don’t need to keep yellin’ at me, I’m comin’!”

Through the grate at your feet, you see two beams of light break through the darkness, the sound of loud, heavy footsteps echoing down the wing. Icy claws tighten like a vice around your heart and you still once more, squeezing your eyes shut as you listen, praying…

The squelching’s stopped.

Grip tight around the handle of your bat, your entire body quaking with fear, you watch with wide, stricken eyes as one of the doors halfway down the block slowly creaks outwards.

For a heartbeat, there’s nothing, and you try and convince yourself it’s just the wind, that you’re imagining things and your mind is playing mean tricks on you–

A feral snarl rips through the air, and before you can so much as scream it’s crashing through the open doorway, head swivelling as it searches for the source of the disturbance. In the dark you can’t make out much, only that it’s huge, half its flesh torn and decaying, smeared with blood and filth – but you see it when those white, cloudy eyes fix on you, its rotting mouth bared and salivating.

And this time you do scream. You scream for Oikawa, for Iwa, for Makki and Mattsun and the faceless strangers on the floor below as you cast your bat aside and run. You don’t dare look over your shoulder as you take the stairs two, three at a time, slipping and slamming into the stairwell wall, a sharp burst of pain radiating down your shoulder – you can hear it giving chase, the rabid growls and snarls too close for comfort.

Tears flood your eyes, your chest heaving with every desperate breath as your feet hit solid ground once more and you take off.

“Please!” you sob as you run, blinded by the brightness of the torch beam as it’s shone in your direction. “PLEASE HELP ME!”

You can’t outrun it forever. Even now, you hear it gaining on you, its hot, foul breath puffing against your back – it’s just like back at the sanctuary. It’s gonna catch you, rip into you and feast while you choke to death on your own blood and screams, and this time you won’t have Oikawa here to save you. You’re going to die in agony, torn apart and devoured, and it’s all your own stupid fault.

Your throat tightens, more tears springing free. You can’t see anything beyond those two blinding lights, moving now, dancing across the field of your vision. “PLEASE!” you shriek, desperate and hoarse as the undead creature behind you readies itself to pounce.

Please don’t leave me here to die.

And for one heart wrenching second, you think back to your boys, and the words they’d said before kissing you goodbye. Everybody else first. Maybe this is some kind of divine retribution, you think. Maybe when the world went to hell people became cold and selfish and you deserve this for sitting back and letting others die in your place.

“Get down!” the voice yells, and you don’t even stop to think before you drop, sliding across the floor. There’s another blinding flash, a shot fired into the dark and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hug your knees to your chest as the creature snarls in anger and jerks backwards, a gruesome spurt of blood spraying over you.

“Ya fucking missed! How could ya fucking miss?!”

The gun cocks and reloads, another deafening shot ringing out above you and you flinch, your nails biting into the soft skin of your palm–

But this time the bullet hits its mark. The creature crashes to the floor with a loud thump and doesn’t move again.

You don’t waste a second scrambling to your feet, launching yourself into the arms of your saviour. You don’t care that you’re crying, that you’re covered in blood and filth and god knows what else, you cling to him like he’s a lifeline, sobbing into his shoulder. And instead of pushing you away like he probably should, he lets out a short huff that sounds almost like a laugh, his arm curling around your waist.

“I’m the one who shot the damn thing,” the other mutters sourly.

The man holding you snorts, “Nah, yer the idiot who missed.” Belatedly, you realise that he’s still gripping his gun, the brightness you’d assumed to have come from a torch actually from a light mounted to the barrel. He slings the rifle carelessly over his shoulder, drawing back slightly to appraise you. “Now, wanna tell me what a sweet thing like you’s doin’ all alone in a place like this?”

With your eyes now adjusting to the light, you can see that the two of them can’t be much older than you. They’re both tall, broad shouldered and handsome, the same jawline, the same slope to their nose, nearly identical hooded eyes – brothers you decide, maybe even twins. And they’re both smirking at you, not with the relief of just barely escaping a brush with a particularly gruesome death, but with an odd sort of lackadaisical amusement, as if this – skulking through dark, abandoned places, killing the undead – is nothing out of the ordinary for them.

And from the ease with which they carry their weapons, maybe it isn’t.

Oikawa warned you about men like them. Men in general, really. Even the ones who smiled at you back at the sanctuary, the ones who offered to help you move heavy supplies when they saw you struggling – at least, until Iwa or one of the others stepped in with a poisonous glare. Anyone who wasn’t them was dangerous, a threat, just waiting in the wings to take advantage of a pretty, dumb little thing like you.

And maybe he’s right, but when the one holding you instead drags you closer, wraps an arm around your shoulders and begins to lead you back towards the guard tower as his brother falls into step on your other side, you don’t shrug him off.

Oikawa isn’t here, and they have just saved your life. That has to count for something, right?

“I-I thought it’d be safe,” you confess breathlessly, trying not to focus on the thumb sweeping over the curve of your shoulder. “Well, empty at least. I didn’t have a choice.” And they listen, sharing glances in the dark as you tell them about what’d happened at the sanctuary, about Oikawa and the desperation that’d led you to leave him and walk miles alone to try and find some kind of medicine–

Until a snicker interrupts you. “Sorry,” the blonde mutters, though he doesn’t look all that sincere when your eyes flash to his. “It’s just…”

“Anythin’ worth taking woulda been snatched up months ago,” the darker haired one interjects.

“There ain’t nothin’ here but the occasional idiot tryna set up camp an’… Well, ya saw how well that turned out.”

It hits you like a gut punch, forcing the air from your lungs in a harsh, gasping breath. There was never anything here, everything… all of it was a waste. You came all this way, left him feverish and screaming himself hoarse for you, risked your life, almost died and–

It was all for nothing.

Fresh tears sting at your eyes, they’re still talking but it’s just white noise washing over you. You don’t even realise they’re leading you back outside until you’re walking through the doors, the sudden burst of sunlight making you flinch. But it doesn’t matter. None of it matters anymore.

You’re an idiot.

A naive, dumb little girl who was stupid enough to think this half cocked plan was gonna work. That you would make it back to Tooru in one piece, medicine in hand to save the day and prove you weren’t the helpless damsel they’d pegged you for.

You’ve wasted so much time, for nothing.

There’s no drugs, no food, nothing that’s gonna help either one of you make it through the next few days and suddenly you’re drowning under a wave of hopelessness and bitter disappointment. You fall to your knees in the dirt, taking both your saviours by surprise, and let out a painful, heart wrenching sob. And once you start, you can’t seem to stop. It’s overwhelming, every emotion you’ve bottled up and shoved aside over the last two days suddenly forced into the light. You cry for yourself, for Tooru – for Iwa and Makki and Mattsun. You cry until it feels like you can’t breathe anymore, and then there’s rough calloused fingers brushing your tears away.

You look up through wet lashes to find the dark-haired man crouching before you, his expression sober. “Ya don’t need to cry, sweetheart, we’re not monsters y’know.”

His brother chuckles behind you, “We’re not about to leave some pretty little thing all alone out here to starve to death.” His hand’s resting atop your head now, smoothing down the hair at your crown. It’s soft and soothing, and you’re so attuned to seeking comfort that you can’t help but lean into it, eyes momentarily fluttering shut. “We’ve got some friends nearby, a nice little hideaway stocked full of all kinds of shit. Everything ya could possibly need.”

“Y-you mean it?” you ask, wide eyes flickering to the dark haired one, who smiles at last. “You’ll share them with me?”

“‘Course we do. Meds, food, weapons. Whatever ya want, it’s yours.”

You take the hand he offers to help you stand, your limbs trembling once more – but this time it’s not from fear or exhaustion, but the overwhelming rush of sheer relief. You could kiss him, kiss them both, but you don’t.

Instead you settle for throwing your arms around them once more, breathless thanks falling from your lips faster than they can catch as you hug them tight. They don’t seem to mind though, sharing almost identical smirks as the three of you head out to an old, beat up camaro parked out by the entrance to the prison. While the blonde slides in the driver’s seat and his brother takes the passenger’s side, you climb up into the back seat.

“Is it far?” you ask as he kicks the car into gear and peels out onto the deserted road. Hopefully it’s not, the sooner you can get back to help Tooru the better.

“Nah, not too far. We’ll be home before ya know it.”

Of course, they’re driving you to their friends, but they haven’t promised anything about driving you back to the cottage and Oikawa–

Which is perfectly fine! You’re not going to push your luck, they’re already doing plenty for you. More than they really have to. You don’t even need that much – just some medicine for Tooru and enough food for the two of you to get through the next few days, and you’ll be fine. Whatever you can carry, which, admittedly isn’t much. There’s still a few hours of daylight left, if you’re lucky you’ll be able to make it back to him before nightfall.

Things are gonna be fine. You’ll bring the medicine and once he’s better, the two you can head out to find the others. Everything’s gonna be okay. You’ll be better when you’re all back together, the way things were meant to be.

You need them, if anything this little venture’s proven that much at least.

They’d promised that it wasn’t far, and maybe it’s just the exhaustion of the last few days creeping in, or the gentle hum of the engine as the car drives along the long, narrow stretch of road, but your eyelids start to droop, your breath evening out as sleep beckons.

And you’re just dancing on the edge of consciousness when a hushed voice breaks through the comfortable silence, dark eyes flickering up to watch your slumbering form in the rearview mirror. “Ya think Kita’ll be pissed?”

There’s a snort, “Nah. He’s always had a soft spot for strays, ‘specially the pretty ones.” He’s quiet for a moment, almost contemplative before he opens his mouth to add, “‘Sides, we’re gonna take real good care of her, ain’t we, Samu?”

The only reply he gives is a soft grunt of acknowledgement.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere atsumu x reader #yandere osamu x reader #yandere iwaizumi x reader #yandere matsukawa x reader #yandere hanamaki x reader #tw blood #tw gore #angst #toxic relationships #i honestly do not know how to tag this #at this point it's practically sfw #if you ignore all the blood and injuries and zombie stuff

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rk8connorzz · 2 years ago

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𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔤𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔣

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Connor is struggling with the loss of his father, Hank

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Mention of suicide

I felt my heart drop. "Hank passed away earlier this morning. They found his body on his couch. He shot himself."

The words didn't seem real. No... They couldn't be true. Just last night we were having a good time at the bar together. I couldn't react. My body shook slightly, but no emotion was visible on my pale face.

No.

I refused to accept it. The only person that ever showed me any form of affection. He's gone. He'll never come back. He's not like me, where no matter how much I die, I'll always come back. He's human.

"Connor? Are you all right?" No. No, I wasn't. My father was dead. I collapsed onto my knees, holding my hand firmly over my mouth. The tears fell down my face, and I let them. Was there something I could've done differently? Was it my fault? Rushing thoughts filled my head. I wanted to deny it. Wanted to forget I ever heard those words. "Death is just another part of life," Everyone says. But I don't want it to be. The RK900 kneeled in front of me. I sobbed until I couldn't breathe in any air to cool down my system. "I know this must be hard for you. I'm so sorry, brother. But I'm sure he's still gonna be rooting us on even in death." His comfort relieved me just a tad. The tears stopped, and I stood up. My legs felt weak, and it was hard for me to hold my own body weight. He couldn't be dead. This isn't happening. It couldn't be happening!

Stage one: Denial

Once again alone in my dimly lit room. Sitting on the side of the bed, just wondering what could've gone wrong for him to take his own life. My LED shook a violent red, never changing color. I was mad. Unbearably mad. Not at him. At myself. I should've been there for him. I should've checked up on him more.

My hands began shaking as I let out a loud yell. Hitting myself multiple times in the head. The impact hitting my head made it ache. I sobbed until I physically couldn't find the tears.

I sat down on the duvet covering my bed. I looked at old photos of him and Sumo hung up on the peach wall next to me. He seemed to be happy, where did it all go wrong?

Stage two: Anger

It distracted me from work. Hank didn't need me to come and drive him back home after he got drunk anymore. He didn't need me to walk Sumo when his back hurt. It felt so unreal. The familiar routine of seeing him at the DPD was now gone. The energy seemed off. Without him, it felt dim. I missed him. I missed my dad.

The feeling was unbearable, I could feel it impacting my chest.

I would do anything to get him back. Even if it meant sacrificing myself. If it meant sacrificing someone or something I loved. I just want to be able to feel comforted by him again. But now I can't.

I just want him back. I knew it was coming, but why now? When I was so unprepared. Silently, I prayed to any god that may be up there to bring him back. I just wanted something.

Stage three: Bargaining

Never did I feel sadness like this before. My own depression consumed and ate me whole, suffocating me. I was drowning in a deep hole of despair. No light at the end of the tunnel could be seen. I gave in to this pool of pure dread that threatened my well-being. I felt deep feelings that couldn't be explained. I never wanted to leave my bed. My bedroom became my safe haven. I never left it. I called out from work on multiple occasions because I felt I would simply break down if I went. Nines called frequently, but rarely did I ever return his calls. I was dull.

He was my best friend, my dad.

My own bed sinks every time I lay my weight on top of it. I couldn't muster up the energy to leave. Even when I was low on thirium, I stayed inside my room. Just praying that if I shut down, I won't come back.

Stage four: Depression

Almost every single day. Whether the night is resting upon the sky or the sun is shining brightly, I would visit his grave. I took frequent pictures of Sumo or of Nines and Sixty lying on the dirt in front of the rock with his name engraved on it. I had short conversations sometimes, but I mostly just sat on my knees taking in my moments with him.

"Hey, dad. I hope you're doing all right. Nines solved a case that troubled him and Gavin for a few months. He's been very proud of himself, and I think you're also proud. Sumo really misses you, and so do I."

I paused for a while. The sky was gray and dim. Thunder clapped violently as the rain picked up. The pictures I took that were in front of the grave were covered by my umbrella. Though I don't think they'll get damaged if they get wet.

"Do you think I could go to heaven too when I die?"

Stage five: Acceptance.

#dbh connor #dbh fanfic #dbh x reader #DBH #Connor DBH #Connor Anderson #connor x reader #connor angst #hank anderson #rk800 #connor rk800 #rk800connor #nines rk900 #rk900 #detroit become human #angst #dbh angst #death #rkbros

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

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Innocent Life

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) & Child!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Grief, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Angst

Summary: As Ethan stands outside the ruins of Luiza’s house, looking the aftermath of the death he barely escaped in the eye, he cannot get the wails and cries of a child out of his head. Takes him a bit to realize they’re not a product of his trauma.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for the wonderful request, I had a blast writing it - what can I say, angst is my specialty hehe. Hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

How the hell is this happening? Why is this happening? Why to me? Why my family? Why were we the ones chosen for this suffering to be thrown upon? What did my daughter do to deserve this, for fuck’s sake?!

Why does everyone around me die? Why do I always loose everyone?

I’m the problem....

His knees are weak, his head’s spinning. His lungs have filled with smoke and ash so much he can barely breathe. His eyes sting, reddened around the edges, his vision blurry. However, what bothers him most is the mess that is currently his mind - swimming with the feeling of betrayal, sorrow and dread.

He lost so much so suddenly and in such a short amount of time. He lost Chris - someone he thought of as a friend but has now been replaced by a coldblooded killer and backstabber. He refuses to believe that’s still the Chris who saved him and Mia from Louisiana, he has to be dead.

Mia....

He lost Mia. He’s lost her before countless times - he lost her when he though she was dead, he kept losing her and getting her back at the Bakers’ residence as she switched between her monstrous form and being herself. He lost her again when they made it back, when her mind was clouded and darkened, when all she needed was solitude and when he wasn’t allowed anywhere near her as doctors upon doctors used her as a research object. And now he’s lost her again, this time for good. It’s just him and Rose now.

Or it would be if she too wasn’t taken from him, leaving him in the pit of grief and loss, both emotions at an intensity he’s never experienced before. Like a drill going through his heart, or a sledgehammer breaking it down to shards. Or as though his heart’s completely vanished, unable to take the anguish Ethan’s existence has become. The anguish that will live on for as long as he will.

Those three years of Mia being gone.

That nightmarish night back in Louisiana.

The horrific sight of dozens of bullets entering his wife’s body in front of his very eyes as he remained helpless.

The sound of Rose’s wailing cries.

God, he can still hear them. And oh so vividly. Like a cursed, haunting loop in his brain. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine her being a few feet from him, near him, giving him the opportunity to soothe her, calm her down, tell her it’s all gonna be ok even if it seems like hell at the moment. Promising he’d make it all alright and make the right people pay for what’s happened.

But then finally, he picks up on it - the oddity in the cries he’s hearing.

They’re too realistic for a mind to be able to produce. They’re too loud and too close and are external. And, most importantly, they sound like the cries of an older child.

Ethan quickly snaps himself back to reality, coming to terms with the knowledge that the sounds he’s hearing are a part of it and not some dark corner of his mind. Despite the horror he feels and creep up, taking over his whole body in the form of cold sweat, he still takes a step towards the source of the ear-splitting and heart-sinking noise. It’s instinctively human to feel a sickening feeling of sympathy combined with the need to shield something so powerless from any harm.

To save an innocent life.

Heading towards the side of what used to be Luiza’s house he spots it - a crib on top of which there’s a pile of rubble and wooden planks. The thing seems to barely be standing and yet it’s harboring the child whose cries have now grown louder. Ethan’s frozen for a few moments, frozen with fear. Frozen with the overwhelming thought that there’s no way he can save that child. Frozen and powerless, just like he was on the floor of his own home as life left Mia’s body.

You didn’t do anything for her....

The sound of a crack in the already weak wood, seemingly coming from the child’s crib, sends all his senses on edge, his adrenaline once again starting to rush through his veins.

But you can do something for that child, Ethan! Do something before it’s too late!

Within the blink of an eye, Ethan finds himself standing above the unsteady wooden structure, putting all his strength into removing the rubble that has thankfully piled atop the wooden planks, preventing anything from landing on the baby and harming it. Hell, it’s a miracle it didn’t suffocate from the smoke in the first place. Its cries are put to a halt when its wide eyes land on Ethan, who’s looking back at the toddler with the same amount of distress.

“Hi there. It’s ok, you’re safe now.“ He finds himself breathing out shakily as his trembling hands reach down, picking up the now silent toddler. “It’s ok, little one. You’re a literal miracle, you know that?“ His gaze travels over the ruin the house has become, the house that was this child’s home. Its family’s home. This toddler knows loss much like Ethan does, or it will when it grows up. But as of now, it’s secured in the bubble of blissful ignorance due to infancy.

And Ethan has come across yet another bump in the road: making his way in the castle was already gonna be a difficult and possibly lethal venture, but doing it with a child in his arms, that’s a death sentence for both him and the kid.

“You and I have a thing for surviving hell, but not even I am willing to take the risk of taking you with me, kid.“ He gently caresses the toddlers head as its big awed eyes blink up at him with curiosity.

One one hand, a castle with horrors he’s yet to be familiar with; on the other, a village which’s horrors he’s already seen and experienced and would rather die right in this very spot than subject this innocent kid to them.

Ethan’s once again stranded.

“What do I do with you, kid? Being with me won’t bring you any good. I’m like a death sentence to everyone around me.“ His heart breaks as he says that because - in his mind and by his logic - it’s the truth. It’s the only thing that makes sense in such a nonsensical situation.

Then suddenly, an idea sparks, fueling what little hope and courage he has left and getting his legs to move from the spot they’ve been stuck in for the past God knows how long. That’s not important right now. What matters is that, for the first time since this nightmare started, Ethan Winters has a clue of what he’s doing. He’s got a plan.

* * *

“I see you have returned!“ The Duke greets him with his signature lazy smile before his gaze lands on the child in Ethan’s arms, his eyes widening in surprise, “Oh, and you’ve got company!“

“Actually...“ Ethan stops in front of the shop, adjusting his grip on the kid, “They’ll be keeping you company from now until....well, until I come back.“

“And where is it you’re planning on going?“ The Duke asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I know how to take care of a child.“

Ethan grows irritated, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I’m gonna take a kid into that castle you called me insane for wanting to go in myself. Trust me, I wouldn’t be leaving them with you if it wasn’t my only choice.” When he doesn’t receive a verbal response from the Duke, more of an expression change that suggested he’s accepting of this, Ethan grow relieved, turning to the toddler that hasn’t taken its eyes off him even for a second. “Hey, you’re gonna be just alright with the big guy, ok? He’s gonna keep you safe until I come back.” His initial intention was to say ‘even if I don’t come back’ but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it, not to the kid at least, “Until then...” He pauses when a name automatically pops up in his head, “Until then, Y/N, you’ll stay here with the Duke.”

After that heavy-hearted goodbye, Ethan reluctantly hands the kid - Y/N - over to the Duke, a shift they are not very happy about seeing as how they start wailing immediately.

“You owe me plenty, Mr. Winters.“ The Duke says with a frown on his face, displeased and already developing a headache from the child’s cries.

“I owe you nothing. What you’re doing is basic human decency.“ Ethan glares at him before turning his attention to Y/N, “Hey, it’s alright. I know you two aren’t big fans of one another, but I promise I won’t take long. I’ll be back before you know it.“ Planting a quick reassuring kiss on top of the child’s head, he steps away, relieved to find they don’t break out in a crying fit again.

With that peace of mind, he takes off on the path that’ll lead him to the castle. A part of him has found some peace, knowing that one innocent life has been saved. However, there’s still one awaiting rescue. And he’ll be damned if he’s not the rescuer.

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aziraphales-library · 3 years ago

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Hello amazing blog!

Know of many fics where Aziraphale and Crowley have known each other since childhood?

Thank you! Xoxoxox

There are a few. I presume you're after human AUs?

To be Your Prince by Phoenix_Soar [T]

It was their shared dream to stand together on the Olympic podium, as figure skaters, rivals, best friends. But a twist of fate has Aziraphale and Crowley pursuing different paths, the former as a Singles skater and the other an Ice Dancer.

It wouldn’t be so terrible, Aziraphale thinks, if he didn’t have to watch Crowley skate with someone else day after day. Someone that isn’t him, and to know he’ll never get to be with Crowley like that, in front of the whole world.

(Figure skating AU)

Coming Home by TawnyOwl95 [E]

Aziraphale isn’t running away. She is making space to regroup after she caught her husband bending his PA over the kitchen counter. (She’ll never be able to roll out pastry there again!)

Crowley is not hiding. She is taking a moment to recover from a stressfully successful career in London's financial sector (And all the questionable life decisions she made to pursue this.)

They’ve both returned to their home town and aren’t expecting to fall in love again. But with twice as much baggage and far more hurts than when they were teenagers, it’s going to take a miracle to stop history repeating itself.

Crawling Back To You [NR] by madrabbitgirl

College-age Aziraphale pushed his closest friend away and moved out of town with his married Literature professor in a panicked attempt at escaping his family’s rampant homophobia. Years later, devastated by a dreadful break-up, he’s returned to his small hometown to live with his brother and attempt to heal his broken heart (and broken life, if he were being honest with himself). What he didn’t count on was his old friend Crawley- now calling himself Crowley and looking dashing as ever- to have returned as well.

Crawley’s wounds from their last argument are deep and Aziraphale may never be able to regain what they once had, but he’d certainly like to try. The two of them need to have an actual conversation, but that’s not really how these plots go, is it?

Whatever a Moon Has Meant; Whatever a Sun Will Sing by Beckers522 [E]

There was a photograph, torn down the middle. Pieces scattered as far as the East is from the West. Thousands of kilometers separated them now, as the world fell to pieces around them. And yet, if someone were to look closely, if someone were to traverse the space between them and lay the folded and worn parchment flat on the table, if someone were to line them up just so, they might realize that the two pieces fit together like the pieces of a puzzle, Like the gears of a clock. Like a nut and a bolt.

Almost as if they were made from the same stock.

This is a tale of love and of loss. Of heartache and of hope. Told in three parts, follow Aziraphale and Crowley as they navigate the hardships of growing up, the horrors of war, and the miraculous wonder of finding love in the most unlikely of places.

A Queer Kind of Platonic by freyjawriter24 [T]

Aziraphale wasn’t good at making friends. He wasn’t, as far as he could tell, good at relationships in general. But then he met Anthony, and all that changed.

***

A through-the-ages human AU, showing Aziraphale and his best friend from ages seven to eighteen as the pair of them grow closer and learn more about themselves.

Six Thousand Miles by Nadzieja [E]

When Crowley was a teenager, he befriended a timid quiet boy, but due to a series of unfortunate events, they lost contact a long time ago. Twenty-nine years later, Crowley is still looking and he will not rest until he finds him.

This is a story about longing, discovery and finding what you have once lost (and in its heart it's very soft).

And here's Childhood Friends tag on AO3.

~Mod N

#childhood friends #friends to lovers #reunion #human au #mod n

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answrs · 2 years ago

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Oroboros AU - Snake Eats Its Tail

Part 3 of 3 of the main story

The brothers are inspecting the tunnels on the third anniversary of Ingo's arrival, checking safety measures and planning to regroup after work is done for a small celebratory dinner back home. Having three people instead of two to split the load makes the work all the faster, and Emmet and Warden arrive at the employee break room around the same time, waiting for the younger Ingo to join them.

There's a pool of dread growing in Ingo's gut the longer they wait. But no, there was probably just a rowdy pokemon he's taking care of, or escorting a lost civilian back to the station. But as the minutes tick by, then full hour, Ingo is legitimately hoping his younger has been knocked out cold in the tunnels in an accident than what his soul knows has happened.

He tries not to share his devastated look at Emmet, but with every glance over the man is tightening his grip on his jacket where he sits, smile strained and wavering, waiting for his twin to walk through the door, or call their transceivers with an update on his location.

---

It's a difficult case to go through the system, considering the missing person was actually found and been present the last three years on the dot, though there's still a vague glimmer of hope that Ingo could still be rescued if only they could figure out how. But would that cost Emmet his brother as payment for his twin, if the timeline cascaded? Would Akari, Dawn, never make it home? Could the whole history of the Pearl and Diamond and Galaxy Teams, the history-present-future of an entire region collapse? How far would the butterfree effect translate? Is one man, as beloved as he is, worth the chances of everyone they knew and loved even being born?

The case is soon closed, and Ingo feels so, so devastatingly guilty for stealing his brother to become his past.

He would offer anything, whatever he could give to the gods for Ingo's return. But he can't, can't leave Emmet with no family, even as he sees the pain and feels the sharp stabs of responsibility, closes himself off even as he tries to offer a rock for the man drifting like a ghost without an anchor in his shock and despair.

---

It's Emmet that finds him one sleepless night, broken down in front of a despondent Chandelure, apologizing for being the reason her trainer is lost, for forgetting, for not trying hard enough to stop the inevitability, to not have known and warned them or to have let himself be taken instead.

Emmet's heart breaks at the sight, of Ingo, his brother, his TWIN, brokenly apologizing to a ghost, to his own self through time and space. It's not his fault he was taken, not his fault at all, and his carefully constructed facade of being okay is permanently broken to the younger twin now.

He sits next to the kneeling man, leans close and hugs him tight. Perhaps, for closure… would it work if he tried-?

"It's been two weeks, do you rem- can you tell me what he's doing right now?"

---

It becomes a recurring question to ask, keeps them both tied to their lost one even through the eras that separate the brothers. Emmet learns about his twin, struggling with learning a language so different to what he knows, being chosen as a warden to the strange creature that saved him, his meeting of Melli and Adaman as he is installed. As time passes, Ingo provides events unprompted, both the highs and lows: his Lady entrusting him with her first clutch of eggs, helping a lost child return to the village. A zoroark attack, the creature wearing a face he doesn't truly remember dressed in white. Meeting a young boy with a rowdy pikachu and receiving a handful of strange contraptions in exchange for his help. Catching a gligar with one, then a tangela. Facing Melli in a battle after a particularly heated argument, how frustrated he becomes after the other warden weasels their way out of accepting the loss. Raising the sneaslets, learning each one's personality and helping them hone their survival skills.

Hearing news through the grapevine, slow to reach him as secluded as he is, about a child that fell from the sky. Meeting the young girl, so familiar in her unfamiliarity to this world, and connecting with her. Helping train the various recruits around the strange little town, how he so enjoyed seeing their connection to partners they formerly feared blossom...

A broken sky. A cruel banishment. Chains in a basement hidden under a towing building. Fear. A roar that shakes the heavens, audible even in a buried cell.

---

Four years later, on the anniversary of the rift that tore the twins apart, he holds Emmet tight, and whispers: Ingo is finally home now. He’s home and he's so sorry it took him so long.

Seven years in the past, the cycle continues.

#submas #subway masters #subway bosses #ingo #emmet #oroboros au

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mysticalrambling · 3 years ago

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Hey there😄😄I hope you are doing well...You did my last request so fabulously🤩🤩So I'm back with another request😅😅It's another arranged marriage request and I think its the most bizarre request I ever had so please be patient with me😂😂 and you can decline the request if you don't feel so😅😅...Ok so here it goes..

*Steve and y/n are required to get married under the marriage law, he doesn't wants to but being the good soldier he obeys the government....they get married but steve is cold towards his wife...his teammates tell him to give his marriage a chance but he ignores them...Then the accords happen and without a care he leaves his wife behind who is heartbroken seeing all this..Then after 2 years he sees her but again he feels nothing but after the snap when he saw losses around him and he gives his marriage a second chance, he starts being civil to his wife and cares for her but they never consumated their marriage...When the time heist becomes successful Steve consumates his marriage with the reader out of happiness and she thinks all is well...Everyone returns from snap and no one dies...But steve returns the stones and stays in the past and old steve comes back.... Heartbroken Y/n refuses to meet him and leaves the compound...turns out she was pregnant with Steve's baby and doesn't wants the old steve to know so...One day old steve sees pregnant y/n who is around 7 months pregnant and realises its his baby, he apologizes but she ignores and turn away from him... He goes to get help from Scott bcz he wants to be with his wife and son now bcz he and Peggy couldn't have kids, everyone thought steve was selfish...But then he tells the truth that he never wanted to stay in past, but when he went to say goodbye to peggy, she abducted him and broke the timetravel apparatus and forced him to stay in the past...Young Steve comes back and now his son is born who is around 8 months old...He attempts to get back with his family but his wife still ignores him and doesn't let him come near her or her son...Steve regrets for not loving his wife in the past and also volunteering for returning the stones...Then one day powerbroker (Sharon) blasts the house where steve's family lived thus killing his family, in way to revenge her aunty peggy...Steve is left with nothing but pain and regret....*

Regretting His Decisions (S.R)

A/N: Thank you so much lovely and I loved the plot line. I loved writing about it and I made a few additions to the story. Hope you like it.

Steve Rogers Fanfiction (Fanfiction Master List)

Summary: You and Steve get married and he is really rude to you. Then he leaves you behind and goes back to Peggy but he doesn’t realise that you are pregnant. However, Sharon kills you and the baby to avenge her Aunt Peggy and Steve is left with nothing but pain and regret.

Warnings: Angst all the way.

._._._._.

Steve never wanted to marry you or anyone else for that matter. But the government wanted it and like a good Captain, he listened to them. It was the stupid law and he wanted to wring the neck of those who made it. The protectors of the world had to get married so that the world sees them as fellow citizens instead of humans with super powers.

All the Avengers knew that Steve was hesitant to get married and he was doing out of duty. They knew that it was unfair but they all had met you. They all loved you instantly and knew that you and Steve would hit it off. However, the only problem was that he refused to meet you. The only thing that he knew about you was your name and your job occupation. Apparently, it wasn’t worth his time to get to know his to be wife.

“You need to give it a proper chance before you form an opinion.” It was the night of your bachelor party and while everyone is blackout drunk, Steve and Tony just sat on the side couch. For a person who was getting married tomorrow, Steve looked miserable and Tony couldn’t help but interfere.

“I am doing my job and that’s all that matters.” Taking a quick sip from his glass, he didn’t even wince at the liquid burning his throat.

Sighing, Tony filled up his glass again. A drunk Steve was better than a sober one, in his opinion. “A marriage is not a job and you need to try harder.”

“You don’t get to have an opinion, Tony. You got the perfect girl and the perfect wedding.” Jealousy coursed through his veins when he realised that everyone got to be with the love of their loves while he was stuck with someone who he barely knew.

Tony was left speechless and before he could come up with a response, Steve got up from his place and made his way towards his room. Calling it a night, he dreaded the next morning. He was happy for all of his friends but he also wanted to fall in love over first coffee dates, first movie nights, the first kiss and the moment he proposed because he loved you. Not because he was obligated too.

“You ready, Stevie?” Bucky was trying to be supportive but the headache was killing him. The tequila was literally seeping out of his pores. “How are you not hungover right now?”

“I didn’t drink like a maniac last night.” Adjusting his bow tie, he took a deep breath. This was the most difficult thing that he was going to do in his life and he just wanted to be left alone for sometime. “Can I have a moment alone?”

“Are you going to run if we leave you alone?”

“I am not a quitter and you all know that.” They all filed out of the room and he just sat down on the sofa and gave himself a prep talk.

You were no better on the other hand but you were ready to give it a try. Captain America was a good man and he would make a good husband. At least, that’s what you thought. You understood that the marriage was not happening under the best of circumstances but you could give it a fair chance. Taking a deep breath, you went to join your father on the doorway. He gave you a tearful smile and linked his hands with you.

“Do you take Steve Rogers as your lawfully wedded husband?” The minister asked the much awaited question and you quietly responded with an ‘I do’. During the whole ceremony, you wanted him to look at you but his eyes kept wandering. You passed it off as nerves but little did you know that he was so repulsed by the idea of this marriage that he refused to look at his wife to be.

“You guys are finally married. Treat her well, Rogers.” Fury took you both in a bear hug while your husband just hummed in response. You were like a daughter to Fury and that is why he recommended you as Steve’s spouse. He knew that Steve was an honorable man so he would fulfill all his duties as a husband.

The whole night was spent with you both smiling and engaging in conversations with the guests. However, you both made minimum effort to talk to each other except a few stolen glances. Your feet were killing you by the end of the event but you were never the one to complain. A look of relief appeared on your face when Steve announced an end to the event and thanked everyone for coming.

“Come on.” Hurriedly meeting his steps, you sat in to the passenger seat and those were the last words that were exchanged between you. When you entered the house, he took you straight to a guest room and then left. Whatever expectations that you had for tonight were crushed and so you went to bed with tears in your eyes and your wedding dress still on you.

During the next few weeks, Steve didn’t even glance at you but whenever you made an effort to do something nice for him, he shot you off. He was not willing to give it a chance and for the first few times that you made him dinner, he just picked it up and threw it in to the trash. You were never allowed in to his room and you learned it the hard way.

One day, you just wanted to put his laundry in to his room because he was not home yet. What was the harm? But boy, were you wrong. He came home early that day and he bursted at you the moment he saw you in his room. He called you some very mean things that you do not even want to recall. That night, you cried so much that your entire pillow was soaked but you didn’t want to leave him. You were in love with him way before you were married. He was the guy who saved the world and he was a good and an ethical man. Maybe he wasn’t nice to you but he was a good man and you couldn’t disagree with that.

It wasn’t that you needed a man in your life or you were dependent on him. It was that you had feelings for the man and your parents never raised you to be a quitter. You were still hoping that it all may be alright in a few days or weeks and you could have a family together. She knew that she had to be realistic but sometimes a girl wanted hope.

“I won’t be coming home for a few days.” At least he had the courtesy to tell you this time that he was going. "I have asked some of the agents to check up on you daily so if you need anything, just ask them."

"Okay." You quickly dismissed his questioning stare because he thought that you would ask questions. However, you knew that he would be rude and you would snap at him this time. A girl could only handle so much.

A week had passed and you got daily updates from Liam and Noah regarding the civil war. You still couldn’t believe that Tony and Steve were fighting because you witnessed their friendship firsthand. They had just informed you that Steve and his team were arrested by the government and shipped off to a black sight. You wanted to go to Fury and ask him to release all of them but Liam told you that it wouldn’t work. It was out of his hands.

“What do you mean?” You couldn’t believe your ears right now. Fury came by your house instead of Liam and Noah. He informed you that Chris and the other Avengers escaped from the prison and no one knows their location. Hurt was one of the most evident feeling running through your body and you didn’t know how to respond. How could he leave without telling you anything? How could he just leave?

“There will be some investigations on you but it would be nothing serious.”

“Why?” You exclaimed.

“The government is convinced that you know their location. It will blow over in sometime.”

“I am not going to sacrifice my freedom for someone who wasn’t even bothered to tell me about all this.” The hurt quickly turned into rage.

“But (Y/N)-”

“Tell all of them that I will not be doing anything and that you all should leave me alone.” You stood up and Fury took it as his cue.

Closing the door, you don’t let yourself ponder over the throbbing ache in your chest and instead get to packing. You were going to move out of this house and leave this life in the past. You moved into your parents house and immediately shot down their questions about Steve. There was a bookstore across from a studio apartment that Tony helped you find in the next few days. You loved books and the job paid pretty well. Soon, you forgot all about Steve and your failed marriage. Of course, there were feelings that you had to bury deep inside of you but you successfully managed to move on with your life.

“Have you heard, munchkin? Cap is back.” Tony shuffled your hair as he entered the library.. Pausing for a minute to absorb his words, you got right back into arranging the magazine section. It was the last thing that you had to do before you got off for the night.

“I don’t care. Are we still on for the night?”

“Yes. Pepper is cooking for the first time. Just say that you like the food.” From the past two years, Tony has been your person. He was the one who ordered you food when you were feeling too low or who massaged your feet when you had feet sores from lugging around books all day. You were thankful to have him in your life because he was not there to support you financially, he was there to support you emotionally. Sometimes, you felt so alone that you thought you might go into depression. But he was there to pull you back and so was Pepper. They were your family.

“Okay, Tony. I already know.” Quite a few things have changed over the years such as you changing your hair color to low lights and getting bangs. You changed your sense of style and. now you were pretty much unrecognizable. It was all in hope of leaving the past and turning over a new leaf. And you were somewhat successful.

“So how was the food?”

“Awesome!” The fake, shrill voice was hard to recognise, even for you but you didn’t want to hurt Pepper’s feelings.

“I know it was not good so I ordered some pizza as a back up.”

“I love you.” A chorus sounded from Tony and you as you both hugged her and kissed her on either cheek.

“Yeah, yeah.” She quickly dismissed you both but the cheeky grin on her face was hard to hide. You called it a night when you started feeling sleepy and you said your goodbyes. Your apartment was only two blocks away so you decided to take a walk to clear your head. Steve had been on your mind since the time Tony mentioned that he was back. As much as you wanted to believe that his arrival didn’t effect you, you couldn’t deny all the feelings that came rushing back in.

“Robbins Library, how may I help you?” Without looking up, you asked the question in a fake, chirpy voice.

“Why are you not at the house?” The voice startled you from your receipt checking and you gave him a confused look. As you had time to process the question, you looked over his appearance. More muscular and a fully grown beard was an interesting look and definitely suited him.

“Well, it was not mine to begin with.”

“I left you that house so you would be comfortable.”

“I am doing just fine without it. You know, I didn’t need anything from you but love and respect.”

Steve was trying to do something nice for you but he didn’t understand you. He felt nothing towards you even if he tried. Guilt coursed through him when he saw the look of hurt on your face but he couldn’t do anything about it. “That is too much.”

“Well, I deserve it and I am not going to settle for anything less.” This time, the brain won the battle and you were secretly glad. You resumed your work and he left without saying another word.

The city was in chaos in a few days because there was an alien invasion in place. The Avengers were all over the problem but Pepper and you were panicked. However, the only difference was that she could ask about Tony’s whereabouts and you couldn’t do that for your husband. There were no updates for you and when Noah came to get you both with a battered suit, you were worried.

Walking towards the tower, you realised that many people were crying but the most important thing was that it looked like half of the population was gone. There were a lot of things that you didn’t understand right now but only one thing mattered. One person. Steve. You ran towards the tower and when you saw him sitting on a chair with his head in his hands.

“What happened?” The logical part of your brain started working right on time.

“We couldn’t prevent the snap and Thor escaped.”

You didn’t know what it all meant but it was definitely something bad. “So what does it mean?”

“It means that half of the human population have disappeared. It means that half of our friends, families, loved ones have disappeared. It means that I have failed!”

“Why are you getting angry at me?”

“Just leave me alone.”

“Do not speak to me like that. I do not deserve it. When you are in the right frame of mind, come talk to me.” You were not the person that suffered silently. You were the person who knew. what she wanted and how she should be treated.

Going outside, you called your parents but it just went to voicemail. However, busy they might have been, they always picked up their phone. So you knew that they were gone too. You were alone in this world and you didn’t know what to do. In the far distance, you saw Tony and Pepper hugging and you were happy to see that your best friend was not gone.

With tears running down your eyes, you turned back and collided into a firm chest. Looking up, you saw Steve and you just wanted someone to be with you right now. That’s what Steve also wanted because he felt like a failure right now. He wanted to give the marriage another chance as he thought that it was a miracle that you both were still here after the snap. It was not fair on you but he just needed someone and so did you. It was a fair trade.

“I just don’t want to be alone right now, Steve.”

“Me too. Let’s go upstairs.” You both just silently hugged each other and kept staring out into the Manhattan skyline. You knew that he didn’t have any feelings towards you and you cared about that. But not today. Today, you wanted to just lie down and soak up in his presence because he was the only one left for you.

He brought you breakfast in bed the next morning and he took you to all the meetings. You were confused as to why he was doing all of it and when you asked him, his answer was ‘I am trying’. You didn’t get your hopes high because you knew that it would be pathetic. This was going to be temporary and you just knew it. However, you just wanted a companion so you rolled with the situation.

“We can work around quantum physics and get all of our friends back.” He informed you over the ice cream that you were sharing. A Netflix movie ran in the background because it was a Saturday and it was a routine for you both.

“That’s a really good thing.”

“We are going to do it tomorrow.”

“Nice. I am going to bed. Are you coming?” He mumbled out a small yes and picked up all the dishes to put them in the sink.

The whole day tomorrow you clinged by your phone and called your parent’s number after every fifteen minutes. You looked crazy by the end of the day but when they finally picked up, you couldn’t explain the joy that coursed through your whole body. Talking to them for hours, you promised that you would visit them and you cancelled the call.

Steve came back with a bottle of wine in his hands to celebrate. “We were successful. The world is saved. Cheers!”

“Cheers!” Both your happiness knew no bounds and after a few many glasses, you both were dancing to Taylor Swift songs. By the end of the night, you two were truly drunk and one thing led to another. You woke up the next morning with sheets wrapped around your frame and the pillow beside you crumpled but cold. You regretted the night so much because you knew that he did not have the same feelings for you.

The whole day, you spent cleaning the apartment as there were empty bottles of alcohol laying around. Then you went to the library and today was a busy day because many people wanted an update for the past five years of their lives. It kept you distracted from everything and when Tony came in, it was like the past repeating itself. He told you that Steve went to place the stones back but he came back as old.

You stopped listening to him after sometime as your mind tried to process what was happening. He betrayed you. Again. You were preparing yourself for the hurt whole day but this was totally unexpected. You knew what to do so it was a good thing. Detach yourself from the situation and do damage control. That was your motto for the next seven months and you refused to meet him even after you found out you were pregnant.

“You are in the mood of some ice cream with pickles, hmm little bean?” Rubbing your round belly, you walked towards the snacks aisle. The flavored pickle was on the top shelf but it was out of your reach. A wrinkly hand from behind picked up the jar and when you turned around to thank him, your voice was stuck in your throat. There stood your husband but the older version. The wrinkled face still held some similarities to the young captain but he had a slight hunch and grey hair.

“(Y/N), is that you? Are you- You are pregnant?” The question in his eyes was pretty evident.

“Seven months.” You curtly spoke and wheeled the trolly towards the check out. He quickly figured out the timeline and felt guilty. It was his baby and he left you alone. He caught up to you when you were bagging the groceries.

“I am sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t know. If I could change everything, I would. Please give me another chance.”

“You chose Peggy so you don’t get to come back in my life. Leave us alone. It would be a favor for this child if he never gets to know you.” Telling him off made you feel a whole lot better and you went towards your car.

Seeing you leave, Steve knew that he had to make things right. He went to the compound where all the Avengers were lounging around.

“I thought you had retired, Cap.” Peter called out from playing his video game with Bucky.

“I want your help, Scott. I want to go back to my old self.”

“Why, Captain? Got bored of the grandfather look?” Tony asked while stuffing his mouth with buttered popcorn.

“No. I just found out that my wife is pregnant and I want to be there for them.”

“That’s sweet but why? You already had your chance with Peggy.” Natasha wasn’t very happy with Steve right now but they all had the same question running through their minds.

“Peggy and I couldn’t have kids.”

“So you are using (Y/N) and this kid as a replacement. That’s just selfish, Steve.” Everyone gave him a disgusted look because they couldn’t believe that he was just using you and the child to fill a hole in his life. Not because he loved you both.

“That’s not true. I didn’t want to stay in the past with Peggy but she forced me to. She broke the time machine apparatus and I had no other choice but to accept that life.” He looked at all of them and saw that they all were listening to him. “I made a time machine the whole time I was there and when it was complete, I got the hell out of there.”

“Oh, Steve. We are so sorry. Of course, we will all help you.” Hugging him tight, Nat spoke on behalf of all the others. The machine was all ready to go so Steve stood in the middle of it with Scott. They had to go back and fixed the machine’s timing and it would take some months to do all that.

Meanwhile, you got back home and unpacked all the groceries. Your hormones were running wild at the moment as you sat on the sofa with your swollen feet on the coffee table. You wanted a companion sometimes who would massage your back or who would call you pretty when you were feeling insecure about yourself or who would bring you food at four a.m. But this was a dream and you gave up on it a long time ago. You were enough for your baby and that was a fact.

When Steve came back, 10 months had passed by. You had given birth to a beautiful baby boy after a 21 hour labour. You cried and even though you had your mom with you, you still called out for Steve. You wanted him with you and afterwards, when you held that boy in your hand, you wanted Steve to be there with you to enjoy the moment. However, it was the last time his name even came out of your month.

“Oliver, you need to eat, bubba.” The last 8 months have been a rollercoaster ride for you and you knew through Tony and Pepper that Steve had gone back in time. You didn’t bother with the details because you had another human being to worry about.

“Nooooo.” This one word was the kid’s favorite and everyone of his sentence started with it. You were interrupted in the middle by the doorbell. Picking up your child from the high chair, you made your way through the house towards the door.

“What are you doing here?” Steve looked the same age as you so you knew that the time machine trip was successful. But you saw red. He didn’t deserve you or Oliver.

“(Y/N), is- is that him?” The blubbering baby did not even pay attention to his father and kept on pulling your hair. He was an exact replica of Steve from the dirty blonde hair to the charming smile. A literal reminder for you but you loved this little boy to death.

“Yes and now go away. We don’t need you.” Looking at the baby, he regretted the day he made the decision to be the one to return the stones. He regretted the fact that he did not allow himself to love you. He regretted everything. “Do not come near us. Goodbye.”

You went on with your week as per usual with feeding Ollie in the morning and taking him to the library with you where he had his own play pen. Then getting light lunch across the street and coming back home to take a nap for a few hours. Afterwards, you both ate dinner while Oliver’s favorite cartoons played on the tv. Except for the fact that Steve was at your house, your job and your cafe from the day he came back. He tried to apologize but the years that you spent in agony was too much. It was too little, too late.

It was a Sunday afternoon and by some miracle, Steve had left you alone. He had a meeting with the other Avengers regarding Asgard today. You were just playing with Oliver on his mat as he tried to crawl towards the stuffed toys in your hands. Before you picked him up, you thought that you smelt gas. However, a loud explosion threw you in to the nearest wall and you knew that your time was here. During the last few breaths, you tried to find Oliver but you couldn’t move. Mentally calling out for Steve, your gaze became unfocused and you lost conscious.

“Wha-What happened?” Steve knew that there was a bomb blast and he wanted to hope against all hope that you both were safe. However, the two body bags wheeled out of the burnt down house had him fall to his knees.

“There was an explosion and we caught Agent Sharon fleeing the scene.”

Sharon had confessed that she wanted to have revenge on Steve for cheating on her aunt Peggy. The new family that Steve had was a disgrace to her Aunt’s memories so she murdered them. She had gone a little crazy because Peggy was the one who take care of her when she was a child and she felt that Steve betrayed her.

Steve didn’t know what to do with his life at the moment. He was left all alone and his family was snatched away from him. He didn’t get a chance to be with them and now he was left with nothing but pain and regret. Trying to convince Fury to let him go back in time and prevent the explosion was futile because Fury just told him that this would upset the balance of nature. He didn’t understand it at first but then as time passed, he did. All the toys and photos that were salvaged from the house now decorated Steve’s very lonely apartment and he never let himself forget.

This was his punishment and he was not going to run away from it. Not this time.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

._._._._.

A/N: I loved writing about Steve but I am no longer taking requests for some days. I actually have some of my drafts that I want to complete. You can send in requests but it will take some days for me to get to them:) Love you guys and do tell me if you want to be added to my taglist.

Taglist: @kalopsia-flaneur, @justile

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arlert-angel · 4 years ago

Text

love fast, die young ☪

♡ jean x fem!reader

❥ you know that at any moment your life could be cut short as a scout, and the last thing you want is to die a virgin, so why not ask your best friend that you’re in love with for some help?

❥ wc: 5.8k

❥ cw: near death experience (reader), virgin!reader and virigin!jean, cannonverse but no plot, loss of virginity, slight size kink, cream pie, aftercare, fluff

❥ note: i was invested in the story of this one lol, it's a lot more romantic than i initially intended. they’re aged up, but the cannonverse details don’t make sense for the plot, so let’s pretend it does yay.

Arriving back from expeditions was always an exhausting feat within itself, sometimes more so than the actual expedition.

Commanding officers had to count their losses, healers had to tend to the wounded, and everyone who was good enough to stand had to report their kills and assists. Of course that was the immediate tasks that needed to take place, but then came the grief. Friends looked for one another, many people cried, and names could be heard shouted all around as everyone arrived at headquarters.

You weren't that different, but you were silent as you scanned the crowd looking for your tall best friend. You knew he was with the best of the best in Levi's squad, so you weren't too worried. However, you also knew the previous best had been wiped out before the new group came.

Anything could happen which made you all the more anxious.

You and Jean were not on the same squad. You first were offered a position on the Levi squad with the rest of your friends, but then Hange handed picked you to help them with their experiments, claiming they needed your mind to work with them. Hange is very likeable and now one of your closest friends, and at the time it seemed impossible to say no to them.

Hange's and Levi's squad tended to work together a lot and definitely trained together, so you didn't miss your friends too much. It was only when expeditions approached and new formations were made, when you had to be separated from the rest of your 104th pals.

You never complained about the separation. It wouldn't last forever, maybe a couple days at most, and then you return to laughing and working with the rest of your friends. You had no complaints until this particular expedition.

You had a close call.

In fact, so close, you might as well have kissed Death on the lips while you were so close to the afterlife.

The mission was going according to plan. It was a simple scouting mission in the mountains that were, for the most part, titan free. Your squad was on the left flank of the formation, near the edge of the mountains. The cliff sides surrounding you guys held a beautiful, yet slightly scary view. The drop had to be at least 300 feet.

You should've known something bad was going to happen as soon as Hange called out, "Hey, Y/N, check it out!" But you weren't thinking that hard, for the day had been so peaceful.

The path you all had taken was so close to the cliffs that the squad was riding single file for safety. There was enough room to pass one another, but you had to do so very carefully.

You rode ahead, passing Moblit. You sent him a questioning look as went by, but he only shrugged, not knowing what Hange was raving over. When you slid off your horse and next to Hange you saw what they did.

A very large cave.

"Should we go inside?" Hange looked at you, clearly excited, but it was an awful idea.

"No!" You tried to sound stern, knowing how they needed a firm rejection or they'd always get what they wanted, "Do you see the size of the thing? This looks like a comfy home for a 10 meter titan, maybe even 15 meter class if they hunched over."

"Do you think they'd crawl around in there?!" Their eyes widened and the familiar look that you've seen so many times on their face appeared. It was their usual expression they had when you conducted experiments with them. You swore to yourself how you fed their curiosity on accident.

"What's going on?" Moblit now arrived, wondering what the hold up was about.

"They want to go inside that death trap," You pointed at the ominous cavern in front of you all.

"You cannot be serious!" Moblit exclaimed in surprise, the volume echoing down the stone and dirt walls. Moblit continued his rant, stating the obvious, but you tuned their debate out. You just stared into what looked like an abyss.

There was no movement, no noise, not even the breeze seemed to reach here.

But for some reason you had a gut feeling. A gut feeling that saved all of your lives.

"Move!" You shoved Hange into Moblit which effectively knocked them both to the side of the cave and used your ODM gear to swing yourself to the opposite side.

The large hand reached out as you tried to get out of the way, but because you helped the others you weren't quick enough.

Luckily, the titan's grasp only managed to get tangled in your ODM wire and couldn’t quite reach your actual body.

Unluckily, the titan was managing to drag you like a ragdoll and if you didn't do anything quickly you would be engulfed in the darkness where it was hidden, and then probably engulfed in it’s stomach.

You had to think quick on your feet and so you drew your blades and slashed the wire on your gear all together. You could've attempted to slash at it's hands, but that was no guarantee. The wire was sliced with a clean snip.

Now you were free, you stumbled back at the loss of momentum. You took one two many steps back, and that last step didn't hit the gravely earth that the others had.

Your foot didn't hit anything at all.

You were about to fall off a cliff.

Ironic to escape death one way only to quite literally fall into its clutches another way.

But, you didn't fall.

Your eyes were squeezed shut in absolute terror, and when you opened them at the lack of free fall, you saw Hange.

They had managed to save you by the front of your shirt, yanking you back on solid ground. Moblit had been keeping the titan at bay, and continued to do so as you and everyone else turned their horses carefully around.

Thanks were shared by yourself, Hange, and Moblit at the different lucky saves. They praised your quick thinking and response. None of you actually saw the titan coming. You just knew. You seemed to recognize the familiar feeling of dread from the presence of a titan that wanted to eat you. Even if you couldn’t see it.

Hange continuously apologized on the way back, but it wasn’t really their fault. It’s not like you actually entered the cave like they wanted. And it was probably a good thing you guys stopped when you did. If the group rode past the cave something worse might have happened.

After that close call you wanted nothing more to find your best friend and have his familiar comfort.

"Y/N? Whatcha still doing out here?" You spun around quickly and saw Connie.

“Oh, hey! I’m just looking for Jean, have you seen him?” You didn’t want to panic, but it was weird to see Connie without Jean.

“Yeah! Mikasa killed this titan that had snuck up right above us and it’s blood got all over Jean it was so funny he screamed like a girl. But yeah, he went to the showers immediately,” Connie explained laughing at the memory. You laughed along and wished you could see it yourself.

“That’s funny, I should probably shower too, this mission felt particularly long,” You grumbled more to yourself than Connie, but he picked up on your off tone.

“Did something happen?” He asked genuinely concerned. You might’ve been closest to Jean, but Connie and Sasha were also very close to you. The four you always had the most fun together, and got in the most trouble.

“Kind of, a titan snuck up on us too, but we were near the cliffs so there wasn’t all lot of room to work with. I almost fell, but on the bright side I overcame my fear of heights,” You laughed, but it was more anxious than joyful.

“Oh shit, that’s awful!” Connie’s eyes widened in horror, “I'll tell Jean to come find you when I see him.”

“What why?”

“You were looking for him right? He’d definitely want to know that you’re okay after that. He worries a lot, you know? It’s always: I hope Y/N okay, where’s Hange’s squad again, I wish Y/N was here, Y/N would love this view. Someone has to tell him to shut up at least once every expedition.” Connie actually did an okay Jean impression as he ranted to you, but you didn’t comment on it.

You were too surprised. You didn’t know Jean worried about you. He never once came to you with any fears about expeditions. He always asked you what happened, but that’s just a normal conversation. It wasn’t too strange for someone’s best friend to think about them when apart. What was strange was the happy feeling you got knowing that Jean couldn’t shut up about you. A weird fluttery feeling danced in your stomach and you felt almost giddy.

Connie noticed your lack of response and noticeably paled.

“Fuck, wait, I didn’t tell you that! Jean’s gonna kill me, Y/N please don’t tell him I told you!” He grabbed onto you, begging. He shook you enough that it got you out of your confusing thoughts.

“Um, okay? I don't see what the big deal is. I think about Jean on expeditions too, that’s not weird right?” You smiled reassuringly and Connie’s whole body sagged in relief.

“Not at all! Have a nice shower!” Connie ran away, actually ran, trying to separate himself from that conversation. He thanked the Walls that you couldn’t read between the lines.

After that odd conversation you got a change of clothes and towel, and then headed towards the showers. You passed Sasha and Mikasa on the way in and they both gave you pleasant greetings, all parties glad to see each other alive and well.

You tried not to overthink, but the hot shower gave you all the time to do so.

Your thoughts jumped from almost dying, to Jean, to these overwhelming feelings you seemed to harbor.

You knew you loved Jean. You both even told each other sometimes. Your mind never wandered further than viewing Jean as your best friend only because you didn’t think that’s what he’d want.

When you first met Jean you had a small crush on him, admiring him from afar until Marco introduced the two of you. Once you grew closer and noticed his infatuation with Mikasa your feelings sizzled out in a bitter simmer. Your bitterness didn’t last long though, you were happy you had someone to rely on no matter what. After Marco passed, Jean was your crutch and vise versa. Romance would only make things confusing and besides you didn’t have any experience in the matter.

But now as you think more and more about him you wondered if those feelings ever went away. You thought about his laugh and stupid tone he gets when he tries to act cocky. You thought about his eyes and how pretty they look in the sunlight. You thought about his ability to read your mind without you having to tell him something’s wrong. He was your person.

You came to the conclusion that there definitely was something more than platonic there, but there was no certainty he felt the same. He would’ve said something by now. When he liked Mikasa he was so obvious, openly talking about her to everyone. You would’ve known something by now if it were the case, right? You knew he didn’t like Mikasa now, he told you explicitly for some reason, stating you needed to know. He also didn’t talk about liking anybody new.

Sighing in frustration, you turned off the shower, now squeaky clean. What was supposed to be a relaxing shower just stressed you out because of your stupid brain’s overthinking.

And it didn’t stop. As you dropped your messy uniform in the laundry, it reminded you of the day.

Today proved that any moment could be your last. Being in the scouts has always been dangerous, and you knew you were a disposable soldier. You didn’t mind it much, but now you realized how little you had experienced. You had never been drunk, your only kiss was with Marco in a game of truth or dare, and you were a virgin.

You didn’t want to die a virgin.

You thought of Jean. You wanted to be with him at least once before you died. You didn’t want to die without knowing how it felt to have everything with Jean. Your love for him definitely wasn’t platonic. You didn’t want to die without him knowing.

Your mind made up, you walked the halls with a little more determination than usual. You wandered around for only a couple minutes before running into Eren.

“Horseface is looking for you,” He pointed around the corner. You gave a quick thanks before quickly going in that direction only to collide with the person you were searching for.

“Y/N!” Jean surprised you by pulling you in a tight hug. As he pulled away he took note of the blush that was now on your cheeks, but didn’t comment. He also didn’t let you go completely, leaving his hands on your shoulders. Unable to help himself.

“Hey, I was looking for you,” You smiled genuinely, only slightly nervous now. Even with the giddiness he gave you, he still managed to calm you down.

“Me too, Connie said something happened with your squad, so I asked Hange about it and they told me everything,” His eyebrows were pulled into a worried furrow, “I wish you were in our squad.”

“Me too, but I like being with Hange too,” You stated honestly, “But it’s alright, everything worked out in the end.”

“Yeah, but you almost fell off a cliff! Y/N if I lost you I’d…” He cleared his throat before shaking himself out of his thoughts, “I’m just glad you’re okay. You said you were looking for me, what for?”

“Oh! Um…” You looked around and saw Eren eavesdropping blatantly with a knowing look, causing you to quickly turn back around, “Can I talk to you in my room about something?” You shift your weight from side to side, visibly jittery.

“Sure?” Jean was confused and noted you looked more flustered than before, but he couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong like he usually could.

You walked side by side, passing Eren along the way who gave you both a smug wave. When Jean wasn’t looking you turned around and gave him the finger. The walk was silent and your hands brushed each other softly.

Once you were behind closed doors you felt yourself relax a little more. It was just Jean, you hyped yourself up. Even if he did reject you the worst thing that could happen is him make a stupid joke out of everything, but you doubt he would. You knew he at least respected you.

“So, what’s so serious that you needed to be away from nosy Yeager?” So he did see that ass listening, you thought.

“Well… You know about my close call today… It got me thinking,” You started safely.

“You can think? Like, there’s a brain in there?” Jean acted surprised and grabbed your head teasingly.

“Shut up,” You laughed and slapped his hands away before adding, “It’s serious.”

“Okay,” He took a seat on your bed comfortably, an action that was not unusual, you hung out in each other’s room all the time. He gave you his full attention, no longer joking around.

“I thought about how at any moment we can die, that sounds morbid, but it’s true. And then I thought about all the stuff I haven’t done and all the things I haven’t said,” You explained further, still not getting to the point.

“So, you want to make a bucket list?” Jean tilted his head, trying to follow, “That’d be fun.”

“No,” You rolled your eyes lovingly, “I, more specifically, thought about all the stuff we haven’t done together.”

“Oh, you want to make a bucket list together!” Jean perked up.

“Jean stop trying to guess and let me explain,” You laughed and he complied, pretending to zip his lips shut.

“Jean,” You approached the man, invading his personal space, “I don’t want to die a virgin, do you?”

“No…” Jean blushed at the sudden topic change, wondering why on earth you were bringing that up right now.

“And… I love you, and I know you'd treat me right,” You cupped his cheeks in your hands. You were standing in between his legs now, him leaning back on his hands looking up at you. He was tall, so he didn’t have to tilt his neck that much.

“I love you too, what are you going on about?” His face was drawn in clear confusion, a cute expression, if he wasn’t being so frustrating.

“No, Jean,” You leaned impossibly close, your face right in front of his, “I’m in love with you.”

Then you boldly straddled him before you planted your lips on him.

You were shy, unsure if he would reciprocate the kiss, and it seemed like he wasn’t. You panicked instantly. Your heart was pounding and you pulled away. You were terrified you screwed everything up. You looked at him and he seemed to be frozen.

“Jean?” You worriedly looked at your catatonic friend whose eyes were wide in shock, “I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry! Please don’t hate me!” You began to try to climb off him, but his hands shot to your hips, holding you in place.

“Y/N, you’re in love with me?” He still seemed to be stunned, or maybe he didn’t believe you, but he held your gaze with serious eyes.

“Yes,” You made sure to keep eye contact despite the heat that rose to your cheeks, to make sure he knew you were dead serious.

“Good,” One of his hands left your hips to your cheek. He guided your mouth back to his.

He was kissing you. He was actually kissing you. It was slow and sweet at first. He stroked your cheek lovingly and your lips slowly moved in sync. It was when you repositioned yourself on his lap, accidently grinding into him, when the kisses started to become more feverish. He groaned into your mouth and the hand left your face and found it’s new home on your ass. He squeezed it harshly, making you gasp. He took the opportunity to introduce his tongue to yours. He surprised you when he sucked on your tongue, making a small whimper escape you.

Jean pulled away, taking in your flustered state with blown pupils of his own. Both of your lips were swollen and you both needed to catch your breath.

“I love you too, you know?” Jean pushed some of your hair out of your face with a soft smile, “I figured you didn’t feel the same and wanted to just be friends, so I didn’t say anything.”

“I thought the same, or that you might still like Mikasa,” You admitted shyly, looking down where your bodies met.

“Hey,” He tilted your chin so you held eye contact again, “That was a stupid crush when I was kid, and I told you that ended a long time ago, didn't I? I’m in love with you.”

“We were so stupid keeping it to ourselves,” You laughed and Jean openly admired you in what looked like awe. His gaze made you feel bashful, almost wanting to hide your face with your hands.

“We were, I could have been kissing you so much sooner,” Jean mumbled, already leaning back to you. This time when your lips met your tongues danced together immediately. You knew Jean also didn't have much experience, but with the way he kissed it seemed like he did.

"Did you mean what you said?" Jean pulled away only for a moment to ask before returning right back to your lips.

You pulled away, trying to decipher what he was referring to. "Wha–" Your breath hitched when you felt Jean kiss your pulse on your neck. He began sucking on a particular spot that made you moan, surprising both of you.

"You're so beautiful," He commented then explained, "Did you mean what you said about that virgin stuff?" He seemed shy all of sudden, his hands were sliding from your hips to your thighs, almost like he was trying to soothe himself.

"I meant every word," You said honestly, "I want to experience all of you."

"God," Jean seemed to like that statement, "I don't know what I'm doing, so just know I'm learning as I go. Just tell me what you like and don't like."

"Of course," You gave him a reassuring smile, "I'm not worried, I trust you."

"Good," He said again before spinning you around and lightly throwing you on your bed. He hovered over you, not putting much, if any weight on you. He resumed the make out session, but this time letting his hands wander.

He first tugged at your shirt, which you helped him quickly pull over your head. You hadn't worn a bra, assuming your plans for this evening were eating then just passing out.

Jean seemed to drink your body in, just staring in lust and awe.

"You can touch me," You tried to sound reassuring, but it sounded more like a beg.

Jean took your breasts in his large hands and just felt you. You almost laughed at how mesmerized he looked, but that was when he latched his mouth on your nipple. That action seemed to send a current of electricity straight to the heat in between your legs. You arched your back and let out a surprised moan which made Jean quickly pull away.

"Did I hurt you?" He looked scared.

"No, it feels good," You murmured as you unconsciously rolled your hips wanting friction.

"Oh, that's good," He shot you a grin before throwing his own shirt to the side. He went back to kissing your chest, this time his hand tweaked the nipple he wasn't sucking on, causing even more pleasure. You bit your lip only letting out whimpers, a little embarrassed of moaning so loudly again.

"J-Jean," You stuttered out, gripping his broad shoulders.

"Hmm?" He hummed, he had been having fun leaving purple marks across your tits.

"I-I need…" You didn't finish.

"What do you need, princess?" He asked genuinely, but his deep tone sent shivers down your spine.

"More, I don't know," You admitted.

"Okay, don't worry," He gave you a peck, "I'll take care of you."

He began taking off your pants, helping you get them off your ankles. He stood to take off his own pants as you admired him. His body was so toned from the life of being a soldier. As you took him all in your eyes landed on the bulge that was very prominent in his briefs and for the first time you felt nerves about having sex with him.

"Jean, how the hell is that supposed to fit in me?" You didn't even see it out of it's cage, you couldn't imagine that monster in action.

"It has to fit right? People have sex all the time," Jean looked down at his own dick before looking at your panties with a frown, "I'll make sure to stretch you out with my fingers to help."

"What do you mean?" You blushed as Jean returned his body on top of you, giving you warmth again. This time putting a little more weight than last time. You could feel his restrained cock against you this time.

"You know, fingering, you've done it to yourself before right?" Jean asked curiously.

"I've tried, but I couldn't reach any particular spots that made me feel good, so I mostly just got off with my clit," You explained, a little embarrassed.

"Well, I have long fingers," Jean began to slip off your last item of clothing. You gulped nervously, you now were exposed completely to him.

"So pretty, and you're wet," He groaned and looked back up to you, "Open your mouth."

You almost asked why, but you didn't want to kill the mood, so you complied. Jean slid two fingers into your mouth and you got the message. You wrapped your lips around his fingers and hollowed your cheeks, sucking on them.

"Fuck," He sighed out and you felt him twitch against you.

He pulled his fingers out and moved them back between your legs. He first slowly thrusted one finger inside you, to get you used to the unfamiliar feeling. The stretch wasn't too painful, and he was definitely right. His fingers were longer.

He moved the one finger in and out of you slowly at first, picking up the pace as he continued. When he felt you relax completely he added a second finger. This time the stretch was a little more, making you tense.

"You're so tight," Jean was watching your pussy in wonder and slid his body down, so his face was near it.

"What are you– Oh my God," Jean's lips sucked on your clit softly, then continuously kitten licked it, all while maintaining his finger thrusts.

"You taste good," Jean said it so casually, you'd think he was talking about the weather. He removed his fingers for a moment to get a better taste. He kissed you directly on your cunt before penetrating you with his tongue. He moaned against you, sending vibrations into you. You tried to unconsciously escape the pleasure, your thighs attempting to close, but Jean's large hands held you down.

He returned his fingers inside you and this time adding a third. It stung more than before, but Jean's mouth on your clit made you forget all about the uncomfortableness. He began curling his fingers inside you reaching a spot that instantly had a knot forming in your stomach. Your hands shot around you, one gripping the sheets and the other in Jean's hair.

He latched onto clit again and you gave up on trying to quiet your moans, embarrassment be damned, it felt too good.

"Jean," You moaned his name, which only made him moan back in return, "I-I'm going to…" You whined a little, not quite there yet, but right on the edge.

"You're going to cum?" Jean asked, not even completely pulled away from your clit to do so, "Go ahead and cum on my fingers, baby." He quickened his strokes and returned to your clit. It was just enough to send you over.

You grinded into his hand and cried out. Jean moaned too as if he was being pleasured just at the sight of you or maybe it was because of the sensation of your tight pussy clamping around his fingers. He couldn't help himself and licked up some of your release, making you jump.

He moved back up to you with a content smile, "Did that feel good?"

"Yeah," You smiled back through half lidded eyes, still buzzing from the pleasure.

He gave you a deep kiss and you could taste yourself on him. Tasting your own saccharine flavor was strangely erotic.

Jean pulled away, "Is it alright if I take my cock out?" He asked beforehand just in case you changed your mind.

"Yeah, of course, I want to see the monster that's going to destroy me," You joked and earned yourself a cocky smirk.

Jean took off the only clothing that was separating the two of you. You glanced down and saw his size more visibly now. You were right to be intimidated before, he was huge. Jean seemed to take note of your apprehensive expression so he returned to giving you some kisses in order to soothe you.

“We’ll take it slow and if it’s too much just tell me,” Jean assured you which helped calm you down.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Your eyes met as he began to rub the head up and down between your folds, collecting its wetness. He rubbed it over your clit and back down, making you feel particularly tingly. When he started pushing the head inside you had to remind yourself to not tense up, but it was hard. He was stretching a lot more than his fingers did. His cock added an unfamiliar pressure inside you that his fingers didn’t.

“God, that’s just the head and you're already squeezing me,” Jean threw his head back trying to regain composure. It was also his first time and he did not want to embarrass himself by finishing quickly. Also the gentlemen inside him wanted to feel you cum around him first.

He slowly continued to push further in as you grabbed his arms to brace yourself. When he finally bottomed out you swore you could see the bulge on your tummy. He kept still and waited for you to give him the go ahead even though he had the incredible urge to just thrust forward.

“You alright?” Jean's voice was more strained than usual.

“Yeah, why the fuck you gotta be so big, Jean,” Which only made Jean smile and give an apology kiss. You took a few more moments getting used to the stretch when the pleasure overtook the pain. You felt the veins on his cock inside you. You felt so full, but so good. You grinded into him trying to feel more and Jean noticed.

“I’m going to start moving now,” Jean warned and began pulling back before snapping his hips forward. You both cried out how he filled you up, your walls fluttering around him.

The pace was unrushed and steady to begin with. He withdrew his cock only to plunge it back into you, hitting you deep, in a repetitive matter. You felt the pleasure everywhere, all the way in your toes.

You started meeting his thrusts, moving your hips in order to do so. Jean hitched your leg higher which only made you feel him deeper, hitting a sweet spot that caused you to gasp.

“You can go faster,” You said breathlessly, “Please, Jean, it feels so good.”

“Fuck,” Jean moaned back, his slow deep thrusts turned into a quick pounding. He continuously hit that new spot every time. Your whimpers turned into uncontrollable moans. Not wanting to make too much noise you buried yourself into the crook of his neck, sucking and biting his skin.

You briefly looked down where your bodies met and saw him pumping out of you, your slick covering his cock and your thighs. The sight made your eyes roll back into your head.

“Please,” You moaned into Jean who brought his hand to your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Please, what? What do you want, princess?” He grunted a bit after, not once did he lose his pace.

“I want… Ah… Please, I don’t know,” You felt like you could cry, you were right on the edge. You didn’t know what you needed, but you felt too good to try to figure it out. You figured he was close too by the way he was twitching inside your pussy and his thrusts became a little more desperate.

“Open,” Jean brought his fingers back to your mouth, groaning at the sensation. He kept them there for a few more moments than necessary, just enjoying the way you looked with your pretty lips wrapped around him.

Then he brought them between your legs and began rubbing your clit at the same pace he was thrusting into you.

“J-Jean, I’m gonna cum,” You grabbed his wrist, almost overwhelmed by the feeling.

You cried out his name as your pussy milked him, triggering his own release. He groaned your name as he came. You felt the warmth of him spill deep inside you and it made your pussy tremble all the more. He gave a few final thrusts before slumping on top of you.

“Look at me while you cum, princess, come on, cum on my cock,” He encouraged you. You held eye contact for as long as you could, but when that coil in your tummy snapped you had to squeeze your eyes shut in absolute bliss.

“We definitely should’ve done that sooner,” He mumbled into your hair, making you giggle.

“Definitely,” You echoed back.

He slid out of you after that, making both of your bodies shudder at the loss of connection. You pussy still trying to pulse around something.

“I just showered,” You commented with a frown, looking at the mess between your legs.

“I’ll go get a towel?” Jean offered, and you gave him a nod. He redressed quickly, kissed you deeply, then stated he would be back soon.

You threw your shirt back on while you waited. You felt so sleepy after that. Even though you wanted to feel clean, you wished you cuddled with Jean some more, already missing him.

After a couple more minutes the silence was broken.

“I knew it!” You heard Eren’s familiar voice shout from outside your door and you sat up confused.

“Shut the fuck up before I hit you!” You heard Jean’s voice shout back and then a few more quieter exchanges that you couldn’t make out from the two men. Then your door opened fast, Jean slipping quickly inside, locking it behind him. In one hand he had a warm towel and in the other he had a new set of sheets.

“What happened?” You pointed at the door and Jean scowled.

“Apparently those assholes bet on when we’d finally hook up,” Jean explained before cleaning you up. You blushed as he took care of you. Despite what just took place you still felt embarrassed. Jean noticed and just pecked your cheeks.

“That’s kind of funny, we should’ve placed our own bets,” You hummed and stood shakily, grabbing a new pair of underwear as Jean changed your sheets for you.

“I can’t believe Eren won,” Jean frowned, but when your arms wrapped around him from behind he couldn’t help but smile.

“Will you stay with me? I kind of want to nap,” You mumbled into his back.

“Of course,” You both returned to your bed this time with more innocent intentions.

Jean laid on his back and you threw your arm around his chest and your leg over his, snuggling up into his side.

“I don’t want to die,” You murmured sleepily.

“You won’t,” Jean stated firmly.

“How do you know?” You looked up at him.

“Because we both have something to live for,” He met your gaze softly, before kissing your head again.

You told each other you loved another once again before you both fell asleep. It was a sleep where neither of you had the common nightmare about your untimely deaths.

Instead it was a sleep where you both dreamt of the future you now could have with one another.

#this was so much more fluff than i wanted lol #aot smut #aot #aot jean #jean x reader #jean kirschstein #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein smut #attack on titan #mikasa ackerman #hange zoe #aot eren #eren aot #connie springer #arlert angel

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islesnucks · 4 years ago

Text

DON'T MOVE ON - QUINN HUGHES X READER

here is the hughesy angst i promised, i cannot believe i wrote it that quickly

likes and reblogs are always appreciated, hope you like it!

Word count: 2.5 k

Warnings: just a bunch of angst and then fluff

Summary: a month after a huge fight that ended your relationship you find out from Brock that Quinn hasn’t been able to move on too

Masterlist

Add yourself to the taglist!

Today marked a full month since the fight that ended it all. You’d like to say you couldn't remember how it happened, how things got so out of proportion you ended up breaking up, but you did. You still remembered every painful detail.

It had been a long day, those that just drain you physically and emotionally to the point you want to get home and sleep so it's finally over. But you didn’t do that because the canucks were playing that night and you thought maybe watching the game at your boyfriend’s apartment and waiting for him to get back after it ended would make you feel better. You were wrong.

The canucks lost that night, it wasn’t a huge loss, just by one goal, a power play goal made by the other team after Quinn had taken a penalty. He obviously put the blame on himself and when he got home things got worse.

With both of you in bad moods things were meant to get nasty, but you never thought it would have reached the point it did. It started as a small fight but quickly things escalated. You knew you didn’t mean the things you were saying, but you weren’t thinking clearly. Suddenly all the little stuff that bothered you about each other started to accumulate and when he said you didn’t support him enough that was the last straw.

How could he say that when you were standing right in front of him in his apartment after having watched his game and waited for him? Even when all you wanted was to go to sleep and forget that day had even happened.

“I can’t believe you just said that. Seriously Quinn I do so much for you and this is how you pay me?”

“Then maybe if I’m such a bad boyfriend we should break up.” He knew that’s not what he wanted, but anger took over and he wanted to hurt you as much as you had hurt him seconds ago.

“Maybe we should.” you quickly replied and the room went silent. You looked at him, internally begging him to say he didn’t mean it, but nothing happened. The silence was deafening.

“Ok then. It’s over.” you finally said, already gathering your purse and leaving his apartment. Not having enough strength to give him a final look as you shut the door behind you and rushed out of the building.

You didn’t cry as you walked to your car or in the drive home, it was like you were on automatic mode, you just drove to your place in silence without a thought in your head.

But once you were inside your apartment it all dawned on you. Your vision got blurry and you let out a suffocated breath. Your legs stumbled and you fell down on the floor with your back against the wall, unable to take in everything that had happened. It was over.

That happened a month ago. You hadn’t talked to Quinn ever since that night. It had been the hardest month of your life. You didn’t realize he was such a huge part of your life till he wasn’t there at night to hold you as you sleep, making you a cup of tea while you studied, pointing at you in the crowd after a goal, rushing out of the lockers straight to your arms after a game, stroking your hair as you lied on his chest to help you relax after a stressful day. He wasn’t there anymore and you missed him with every bone in your body; but he never reached and you were too afraid to see him only to discover he was doing completely fine without you.

Focusing on your studies and work made it easier, you discovered if you had your head occupied the whole day you didn’t think of him. But nights were the hardest, lying alone in your bed with only your thoughts would make your mind go back to that dreadful night and you’d end up crying yourself to sleep. That empty feeling would turn from sadness to anger and vice versa, but no matter how hard you tried to get over him you couldn’t.

That’s why after weeks of pure silence it surprised you when you received a call from Brock. You debated on whether to answer or not, but figured if he called after all this time it was important.

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N” he answered. “How are you?” You could tell he was hesitant.

“I’m … good I guess.” you replied followed by a long silence. “Why are you calling Brock?” you finally asked, wanting the exchange to be over.

Brock didn’t know how to phrase it, he knew why he was calling and what needed to be said, but he simply didn’t know how to say it without you immediately ending the call after hearing his name.

“It’s about Quinn- please don’t hang up!” he was quick to add.

“What about Quinn?” you asked. It felt weird to talk about him out loud, something you hadn’t even done with your friends.

“He 's bad Y/N. Really bad. He won’t come out of his apartment, only for practices and games, and then he rushes back home and we don’t see him again. We’re really worried about him, all the team and his friends, even his family. He hasn’t been calling them like he used to and Jack had to basically convince their mom not to take the first plane here to check up on him. Even Brady hasn’t been able to get to him. Plus he’s been shit on the ice lately, taking stupid penalties and getting into fights, he’s one bad game away from getting benched.”

“I get it Brock but I don’t know what you want me to do. It’s not my job to fix him.” you told him. The thought of Quinn suffering alone in his apartment broke your heart but after all he was the one who decided to end things and never reached you after it. You knew it was your pride talking, but he had put himself in this position.

“I know, I know. I’m not asking you to forgive him for whatever it is he did. Honestly we’re kind of out of the loop here because he won’t tell us what happened between you two. But please I’m begging you, talk to him. You don’t have to get back together, but I think he needs some type of closure or something. He can’t keep doing like this Y/N.”

You could tell by his voice he was genuinely worried, and you were sure this is something he had talked about with the rest of the team and friends. You hated to admit it but Quinn still had a place in your heart and right now it ached at the thought of him drifting away from his family and friends and even failing at the job of his dreams when maybe a simple talk could help him. So you decided to push your grudge aside, but not completely.

“I have a box with his things, tell him I’ll go by his place to return them and then we can talk.” you said, thinking that the box of his belongings you had packed some days ago and sited by the door waiting for the moment you were strong enough to give them back to him would be a good enough excuse. That was not the answer Brock expected but he knew it was the best he would get.

“Thank you Y/N. I know this isn’t easy for you, but thank you so much.” You hanged up.

You stood on the hallway in front of his door after knocking, waiting for him to answer. You kept repeating to yourself everything would be fine, that seeing him again after a month wouldn't be as hard as you thought, but the moment the door opened and your eyes connected with his, your heart stopped.

He looked like shit. Tired eyes, heavy dark circles around them, messy hair and you’d bet he had been wearing that old shirt and sweatpants for at least three days. You were also surprised to see that he was shocked you were standing on his doorway.

“Y/N?”

“I told Brock I’d stop by today.” you explained.

“You spoke with Brock?” he asked and then you understood his friend hadn’t informed him of everything.

“Yeah he called me yesterday to talk about … well about you.” you said, unsure if telling him you talked about him was the right thing to do. He nodded, still a bit confused but didn’t say anything. “Can I …” you said, gesturing to the inside of the apartment.

“Oh yeah sure.” He moved to the side to let you in. “Sorry about the mess.”

You walked into the all too familiar apartment where you had spent many days and nights, but now it didn’t feel like home anymore. The curtains were almost shut completely allowing little to no natural light at all inside, there were some clothes on the sofa and dirty dishes piling up in the sink.

“So I’m guessing Brock forgot to tell you I’d stop by to drop this.” you said putting down the box on his coffee table.

“He probably did it on purpose. If I knew he was going to call you I’d have stopped him.” he simply said, like it wouldn’t be a dagger to your heart to hear he didn’t want to see you. Maybe after all he wasn’t doing so bad, or maybe it wasn’t because of you.

“If you didn’t want to see me I can go-” You started to turn around, ready to once again leave his apartment brokenhearted like many days ago, but his hand on your wrist stopped you.

“No! It’s not that I don’t want to, it's just that … it’s hard.”

“Hard?”

“Yeah Y/N, hard. I haven’t seen you for like a month. After that fight you just left and I never saw you again.”

“Well you never reached out Quinn.”

“You didn’t either.”

“Yeah but you were the one that decided to break up. You want me to process my boyfriend breaking up with me and then also call to check up on him?”

His hand was still on your arm, making you stand close to each other, so close that you could tell how his posture changed after hearing what you had said.

“I’m sorry about that, about the break up and about every other stupid thing I said that night. You were the best girlfriend I could have asked for.” he said looking into your eyes. You could tell he was being sincere and that softened something inside of you.

“I also said some stupid stuff I didn’t mean. We were too caught up fighting to actually think what we were saying.”

“I’m sorry.” he almost whispered before letting go of your arm and quickly wrapping his arms around your body.

You were surprised at first but didn’t hesitate to hug him back. By the way you were hugging, with his head low into your neck and your arms around his frame, it looked more like you were consoling him, and in a way that’s what was happening. At one point you noticed he was crying, you couldn’t see him but you felt the warm tears against your skin and the way his chest shook between your arms as he tried to hold it in but failed.

“If I could take it all back I would, I really would.” he mumbled against your neck in between sobs. You started crying too, unable to keep on pretending you were fine anymore, unable to keep on pretending you didn’t care.

“I miss you so much Y/N.”

“You do?” you asked, genuinely surprised to hear him say it.

“Are you kidding me?” He pulled away from you to look you in the face, but your arms stayed on each other. “Look at me, look at my apartment. I’m a mess without you. I miss you every second of the day, there isn’t a moment when I’m not thinking about you Y/N. I mean I’m doing so horribly I’ve got everyone worrying about me: my friends, my family, my team.”

“You never called so I thought you had moved on.”

“I didn’t. I can’t move on from you and even if I could I don’t think I want to”

You looked at the mess of a man standing in front of you, crying in your arms, telling you he regretted everything, he missed you. It was clear to see he had suffered as much as you had for the past month. There was no doubt in your mind you still loved him, you tried to push it away but there it was, strong as ever, beating deep in your heart. So you decided to go for it, let yourself be weak one more time and if it didn’t work out then that’s something you’d have to deal with later; but if it did you knew it would be extraordinary.

“Then don’t.” you said and he looked down at you with furrowed brows. “Don’t move on.”

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, eyes getting bright with hope at the thought maybe it wasn’t all lost.

“I’m willing to try again if you are. I still love-” you started to say but he cut you off mid sentence moving his hands to your face and your words died in his lips.

It felt familiar, like coming back home after a long trip. Both your eyes were closed, enjoying the kiss, savoring every second of it. Tears started rolling down your faces and you could taste them on each other's lips. Tears of joy because neither of you could believe this was actually happening.

“I love you.” he said once you pulled away to breathe, foreheads touching and lips millimeters away. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” he kept on repeating with the brightest smile on his face. You giggled before connecting your lips once again for another kiss, something you could never get tired of.

This time his hands moved to your sides, lifting you up in his arms as you wrapped your legs around him and let out a surprised squeal between the kisses. He walked over to the couch, threw away the clothes that were there with one hand holding you close to him with the other, to then swiftly lay on it with you on top of him.

“I’m never letting you go again.” he said, placing a kiss on the top of your head as you nestled yourself between his arms with your head on his chest.

“That’s fine by me.” you replied, earning a sweet laugh from him.

tagging those who asked or seemed interested:

@lovingbrock @mellany1997 @timothyjimothy74 @itoldmycatsaboutyou @stlbluesbrat @dermybaby

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes fic #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #hockey #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagines #canucks #canucks imagine #Canucks fic #vancuver canucks #vancuver canucks imagine

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dancingaliensfics · 4 years ago

Text

♡My Prison Pen Pal♡

Helmut Zemo x reader

Word count: 1,802

Warnings: swearing, mentions of prison and crimes and slight angst to do with his family

A/N: its finally here! I havent writen a fic in a long time so hopefully you guys like this! I tried to avoid using idioms and things like that but message me if you need anything explained or reworded as I know most people aren't native English speakers

@sorcerersofnyc

♡♡♡

His first letter came during the series finale of your favourite show. A rather inconvenient moment, you thought, so it stayed on the welcome mat until you passed through the hall on your way to bed. Picking it up, you figured you'd skim the first few lines then finish it and write a reply before work. Instead, you found yourself writing and rewriting a reply through the night. Somehow this man had managed to enthrall you with only a letter. Maybe it was the way he wrote as if he was some elegant poet whose sonnets would one day be hailed as classics. How he managed to be open and expressive, exuding a welcoming aura, and yet still seeming mysterious. Or perhaps it was simply fated by the stars that Helmut Zemo would capture your heart.

You waited anxiously for his second letter to arrive. After sending the first, you hadn't cared whether you got a response, the whole thing seemed like a bad idea to you. But your mother was insistent that you needed to meet new people and this way you wouldn't need to worry about awkward face to face conversations. Sending the first letter felt like any other chore you do in the day, done with much effort and resignment but forgotten within minutes. But the second? It felt like the most important thing you'd done in a long time. You'd even bought a first class stamp (not that it makes a difference).

You wanted to know more about this intriguing man. No, supervillain. Charged with international terrorism. Jesus christ what the fuck was wrong with you? Were you really falling in love with a supervillain after one letter? But he didn't seem evil to you. He wrote eloquently, somehow his simple and brief description of his day (he'd started reading a new psychology book, you'd have to send him some recommendations) sounded fascinating in his words.

Over time, you started to notice small things about Helmut. The way he crossed his t's, how he signed his name, but mainly that there was a romanticism to his writing. From the way he described his home, his wife, his son to his recipes for Sokovian dishes with small notes and doodles (your favourite was his shepherd's pie recipe where he helpfully noted his mother's assertion that you should always add more than you think you need). It was becoming clear to you that he wasn't the stoic and vengeful baron you expected but rather a soft, lonely and endearingly weird man who you couldn't imagine plotting to destroy the Avengers. Whilst it was his mystery that first captivated you, it was his sweet and sometimes awkward personality that convinced you to keep writing.

It took a while for Helmut to tell you about his family. You had heard on the news back when he first arrested about his motive, so you were interested to hear his perspective on his crimes. But that wasn't what you got. Instead, he told you about when he and his father used to play football when he was young and how they would play a match every time he visited, with Helmut playing against his father and son, who always wanted to play with grandfather. He told you of the songs his wife used to sing, how her voice was always loud and shaky and after years of singing somewhere over the rainbow she would still forget the lyrics and invent her own. He told you how his son was the best pianist he had ever heard. How he could play the greatest rendition of amazing grace and that he had just learnt the theme from swan lake. That he had been excited to practice it on his grandfathers grand piano the day Ultron attacked.

There was something so human about this man. His love for his family, his loss and grief, his plan to avenge his family, it was all so tragic and yet here he was sending you drawings of the flowers from his garden growing up. You wanted to hug him and yet sometimes you felt he wouldn't need it, wouldn't want it. You were wrong.

Helmut Zemo missed his family. He told you so in one of his most recent letters. He missed holding his son, brushing his wife's hair, going for long drives, waking up at 2am to comfort his son, early morning trips to the shops, cleaning up after dinner, helping with homework. Everything he listed seemed so trivial, so meaningless in the grand scheme of life and yet the memories meant so much to him.

You realised then you had never pitied him before. Not that he wasn't deserving of it, just that he didn't seem to need it. But overtime you realised that what Helmut had really needed wasn't revenge or to make a world free from superhumans, it was someone to talk to. Someone to trust. Someone who would understand his pain and not judge it. Perhaps, you thought to yourself, you could be that person.

Fuck.

You couldn't think of how to cope with this. No one you knew had ever mentioned falling in love with a criminal through letters. And as hard as you tried you hadn't been able to find a single romcom with this plot line. You couldn't tell him. You imagined with his seemingly fragile state of mind receiving from basically a stranger professing their love would at best cause him to ghost you. Especially after he confided in you, shared his thoughts and memories.

So instead you continued as normal. You sent him pressed flowers and pictures of your favourite places. Eventually, he asked what looked like, and you spent an hour trying to decide whether you should send a picture of yourself or to just vaguely describe your features. After deciding to send a picture of yourself on holiday a few months before the blip, you found yourself wondering what he'd do with it. Would he throw it away as soon as he got the letter or would he keep it, tuck it away in some book to look at whilst thinking of you?

You also found yourself wondering what he looked like in the real world. You had found pictures of him online, but they didn't feel real. He was never rarely happy. The pictures pre Ultron were clearly taken by paparazzi, so you weren't surprised he rarely looked anything other than annoyed. There were a few though, ones with his wife and son, where he clearly hadn't noticed, and some from when he was much younger and seemed to enjoy the attention. Then were those taken after his arrest.

And so you continued to wonder he looked like. How he looked in the morning, with flowers in his hair or in summer with the sun lighting his face. You wondered what his hair looked like wet, if he ever scrunched his nose in disgust. You wondered what his smile was like.

Over time, you told him more about yourself. The stress of returning home after the blip to no job, no house and your friends 5 years older. Your ex was married with kids and your sister had moved abroad. It was as if you blinked and your whole life had changed. You mentioned how it was your mum who had suggested getting a pen pal, so you could talk to someone new, who was living a different life to you, although she had meant someone in a different country not jail. Since coming back you'd been isolated and stressed with starting a new job, recovering lost information and personal belongings and moving house, so you had thought it might be good to speak to someone who didn't know you, who couldn't judge you. You told Helmut how it had been good, how writing to him had helped you, how he had helped you more than he could ever know.

No, that sounded creepy. How you appreciated his letters.

Too formal. How you hadn't expected to become his friend, but you were glad to be able to say you were.

Helmut was comforting. You knew in your head that your meeting on Friday was nothing to worry about but seeing him say it felt so reassuring. Each one of his letters made you feel relaxed, feel safe. You wanted to make him feel the same. So, as a way to repay his kindness you had told him that no matter what happened, he could always trust you. And it was true. You couldn't imagine a world where you wouldn't do anything for Helmut and although you knew he would never need it, you still wanted him to know you would always care about him, even if no one else did.

Writing to him had become as easy as talking to someone you'd known all your life. You had fallen into an easy routine, you knew when to expect his letters and you knew when you'd send a reply. The routine felt so natural that you even knew what the envelope would look like, always the same off-white with a square edged flap. The address was always the same too. Except on his last letter. Which was strange.

At first, you thought Helmut had been moved to a different prison but after frantically typing the address into Google Maps you realised it was not a prison. Fuck you had no idea what it was, but it wasn't a prison. It also wasn't in Germany.

You sat still, staring at the unopened letter for a few minutes.

You looked up at the door. You thought you heard someone knock. The post had already come and you weren't expecting people. Hell, there wasn't anyone other than your parents who would visit anyway and they would have called first. Now you were sat still, staring at the front door.

"I know you're in there, the lights are on."

It was as if you were a marionette, being moved by some strange force that was slowly pulling you out of your seat and towards the door. You didn't even register that you moved until you felt the door handle on your fingertips. The cold metal caused you to stop, as if broken out of a trance. There was a sudden realisation that if you opened the door your life would never be the same. It was sickening, a mixture of dread and excitement; it reminded you of the moment before a roller coaster drops. You repeated that thought in your head. "Your life would never be the same". Your life hadn't been the same in almost a year. What would be the harm in one more big change. So you did it. You opened the door.

His smile was beautiful.

#zemo x reader #helmut x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #tfatws

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travellingarmy · 4 years ago

Text

║Kaeya║Goodbye Kiss

Gender-neutral.

Angst.

Word count: 1.7k

---

It is time..

He had fulfilled his duties as a spy and so, it was time for the rightful heir to the throne to return to his home, Khaenri'ah. However, he guilts the thought of going back. In the beginning, he only had one reason of lingering around Mondstadt for a while but now that that he was done, there was really nothing left holding him back to return. So, why is he wavering?

His eyes- both visible- stare at the oh so familiar ceiling of your home. He had grown to love the sight of it over the years. His eyes seemed to sparkle in the night, a hand behind his head. Those eyes if his had always been unique and mysterious apropos to others one would meet along the way. It held a secret that makes one so interested in the soon-to-be former Cavalry Captain, but they could never unveil the truth behind them-- not even you.

Not even you who lay beside him bare and snuggled against him, a hand on his chest. Not even you who was most closest to the knight. If you couldn't do that, who could?

You made a sound during your sleep, gaining the attention of the man. His eyes glistened upon landing sight on you. His heart raced at everything you do. He was happy with you, but he also bitterly blames you for being the reason he was hesitating. Why did you go make such a man fall for you? No, what was it about him that made you fall into his arms? Surely, you could see just how scary those eyes of his, right?

Honestly, you were the first to approach him knowing the darkness that he had carried since young. You dare not question what his past was or where he came from. You openly loved him, but he was going to be your heartache.

If only, he thought, if only he didn't fall into the hole you had made, he would leave Mondstadt all behind without looking back. When did he trip? Was it the first glance of you? There was really something about your eyes that intrigued the male.. Yeah, that was probably it. Something in your eyes shone something he had not seen in himself. Your eyes were free of hidden motives and your quick-witted actions proved that.

Maybe, he was interested because he felt jealous of you. Jealous that you didn't have to carry a burden of a task since young. Maybe he had gotten close to you to take that glimmer in your eyes. After all, he was a man with ulterior motives, no?

Ah, that did no good to Kaeya. He tried to convince himself over and over that there was something he wanted to take from you but as you lay bare beside him, he felt himself at a loss.

You mumbled in your sleep, once more making sounds to gain the attention of the male. Whatever you were dreaming about, it obviously was a pleasant one. He chuckles lowly and put his free hand behind the back of your head, moving you closer to his lips so he could place a kiss on the crown of your head.

"I love you."

The clacking of hurried heels and boots greet you upon entering the headquarters. It was early in the morning but everyone was jolted awake and masked with a stern look, brows furrowing as they rush past you.

You knew what was happening. Otherwise, you would still be lazily getting out of bed. "Acting Grand Master," you greet the blonde whose back was facing you. The call of her title brought her attention from another knight to you. "(Y/N), I'm so glad you're here. Have you seen Kaeya?"

Indeed, you have seen Kaeya. Hoewever, it was just a glimpse before your tired eyes fluttered shut for another hour. "No, I haven't." Jean sighs but did not dwell on the thought of the captain. "Well, we'll just pray to Barbatos that he comes soon. We need all the hands to protect the city from the Abyss."

Something inside you churned. Something was calling out to you that you failed to listen. What is it? Why was dread washing over you at the thought of Kaeya? Surely, he would be fine to take on a couple Abyss mages and hilichurls, right? Well, it doesn't matter. Even if he can take down a whole army, you should still be by his side, fighting with him.

Not waiting for orders from the Acting Grand Master, you made a bolt towards the gate. Jean shouted your name but you ignored it as that churning feeling grew inside you. "Kaeya.."

The entirety of Mondstadt was surrounded at all fronts. All sorts of Abyss mages and hilichurls attacked like savages, using this chance to take down the city while the rest of the troops were still coming their way.

Your eyes darted around, hoping to see the Cavalry Captain somewhere amongst the many men who were trying to by more time for backup to come.

You bit your lips, drawing out the blood to trickle down. Where in Teyvat is Kaeya when you needed him most? It wasn't the time for him to go drinking in a bar, getting wasted.

Not wanting to waste more time dwelling on the thought, you took the lead, running past the other knights and heading deeper into the battle. "Captain!" A knight had called your title but you dare not turn around. Something was telling you that Kaeya was further in, and you were going tl follow it. Knowing Kaeya, it does sound like him for him to rush before anybody else. "Please, Kaeya.. Please be okay."

Clearing any enemies in your way, you felt your heart become lighter at the sight a his familiar back, but you dare not break into a smile. It would just make you lose your focus on the fight.

"Kaeya!" You called, but that failed to reach his ears amongst the chaos around. You were drawing near, noticing that the army started to grow thin in the back.

You were about to call him a second time but the words got stuck in your throat, seeing that the male was talking to an Abyss mage. It confused you. Why is the Abyss mage bowing to Kaeya? Why isn't it attacking Kaeya?

The mage looks up, eyes looking past Kaeya and onto you. "Your highness, behind you," the mage gestures him to look behind. Wait, did the mage call him 'your highness'?

Kaeya turned around to look at you, revealing you both of his eyes that held no warmth as usual when they laid upon you. You were stoned into the spot, mouth feeling dry. What were you supposed to say at this point? Your head dizzied, wanting to collapse on the ground for support.

When your silence was prolonging further activities, his eyes narrowed coldly and his mouth drew a wider frown of displeasure. "(Y/N), what are you doing here?" His voice was montoned and no longer spoke in a flirtatious manner.

The mystery behind his eyes were revealed to you; the mystery that all of Mondstadt wanted to know yet could not get close enough to know.

You gulped back the lump that grew. Surely, there is some misunderstanding, right? Kaeya just wanted to toy with the mage before he killed it, right? Yeah, that has to be it. "K, Kaeya, Acting Grand Master wants you back and help protect Mondstadt.." Your eyes slightly widen in desperation, searching for the truth.

"Oh? Does she now?" A smirk tug his lips yet his eyes stayed the same. He turns his full body to face you and rested his knuckle on his hip. He was toying with you. "Y, yeah.. You better get back before she gets mad at you."

Kaeya chuckles at the look in your eyes, knowing that look all too well. "Why should I go back? I'm not from here so I have no reason to protect it." He shakes his head, all the while smiling. "(Y/N), I'm sure you already know that I am not from here, yes?"

"Where are you going with this, Kaeya? Please stop playing around and come back," you spoke with a shaky voice.

His smile drops. Were you seriously trying to convince yourself that he was a good man? He sighs and walks close to you, grabbing your chin in his hands. "Oh, (Y/N), you could be so cute at times. It almost makes me want to take you with me," his words were sincere. "But the land of sinners is not a place to call home for someone like you. So, be good and listen to when I say to stay." A flick of sorrow failed to catch your eyes.

Kaeya had not slept that night, waiting for the sun to shine through the curtains to tell him that it was time. As much as he wanted to stay with you, he was a sinner who ruled a land abandoned by the gods. He had no place in Mondstadt- with you- knowing his origins.

A tear slipped from the corner of your eyes, but Kaeya did not dare to wipe it away in fear that his heart would waver.

"Be good.. Protect Mondstadt.." He shows you one last genuine smile that you loved. His eyes allowed itself to show you his true feelings for you once more as well which just made your heart squeeze itself.

He brings your face, your lips, close to his. He was giving you one last kiss. A kiss that you would miss for as long as you lived. A goodbye kiss.

Tears left your eyes as he deepened the cherishing kiss.

He soon pulls away, watching your tears fall silently onto the ground. He smiles and turns on his heels to walk away, the Abyss mage following close behind him.

Your legs gave in and fell onto the ground as you watch the man you loved walk away from you-- never to return to Mondstadt-- to you.

Kaeya dares not to look behind. If he did, he had a feeling that he'll run up and hug you to stop those tears of yours. This was goodbye.

"Forget me and find someone else, lest you will be broken."

---

#kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya #kaeya oneshots #kaeya angst #genshin angst #angst #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact angst #genshin x reader #gender neutral #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #x reader

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yandere-wishes · 4 years ago

Text

Sacrificial Bride Part 1//Twisted Wonderland X Reader//

Alright well, that's enough writing for the next few days if you excuse me I'm going to go sulk in my corner. Huge thanks to @softyswork who’s story about reader being sent to Malleus as a bride inspired this series. Also, I REALLY want to make some sort of modern-day Frankenstein it would be an amazing scientific breakthrough! You'll understand what I mean when you get to Idia's part lol.

💚🐉Malleus Draconia🐉💚

It was a common rumor around your village that ever since the death of the sleeping princess your settlement had never been the same. For you, this was nothing more than a fairy tale meant to spark a scrap of hope in the hearts of naive, suffering children who were still too young to fully understand why their fathers never returned from their hunting trips or why there was barely anything to eat for dinner.

Every time you heard this dreaded tail, you couldn't help but scuff. For as long as you've been alive your town had been in utter disarray and chaos. Monsters from the woods -what the town's folk called "fae"- attacked the village daily. Stealing jewels, destroying homes, sometimes even swallowing children or sucking the blood of the dormant. There was also the looming threat of the green flames. Blazing emerald fires who couldn't be subdued by neither water nor dirt. They advanced further into the territory of the village by each full cycle of the moon. Leaving behind in their trail, thick impenetrable thorn bushes that had taken the homes of many and the lives of many more.

Awful, dreaded creatures those fae where...

But alas you did not yet know just how cruel they could be.

On another periodic morning, your younger sister jolted you awake, dragging you to the town center before you got a chance to change out of your nightgown.

In the center of the square was short man..no...not a man you noticed his pointed drawn back ears. "Fae" you gasped under your breath. But unlike the monstrous fairies that ravished your town taking on the appearances of trees and woodland creatures, this one resembled a boy of 15. The young-looking male began to speak, his voice was clear like crystals, and to his tone bats began to flock overhead. "Truly dreadful, these fairy folk are" your sister uttered in terror as she buried her face in your side.

"Heed my words, mortals. The young prince of thorns has decided to take a wife. By the setting of the sun a full day from today, two of his guards will come to collect your offering. If you chose to disregard this Wa-- friendly advice, then what is left of your town will be decimated before the end of summer. Your children eaten, wives imprisoned and husbands killed!" An unsteady hush rippled through the crowd. Some hothead youths began to throw rocks at the stranger only for the bats hovering above to shield him from the stones. Mothers hugged their children close begging for the man to "just leave".

"If" the man's voice rose once more like a cadaver emerging from the grave " my young master is pleased with your sacrifice than we shall reward you! Bring good health and prosperity to your otherwise sick and decaying village." His last words melted into the open air before he vanished in a cloud of squealing bats and ebony smoke.

The town's folk erupted in screeches, cursing at their deities while simultaneously praying to any god that would listen.

"Help us!"

"save us!"

"Don't let them take our daughters!"

The screams escalated to the point where you had to cover your ears with your shaking hands. Your eyes scanning each of the villager's faces, a pathetic lot they were, you thought to yourself. Scared by the words of a young magician. In a flash, your heart sped up, adrenaline pumping through your veins, as you marched to the center square where the boy had been mere moments ago. You stood tall, cupping your hands over your mouth.

"Listen well you disquiet, mindless lot!"

All eyes turned to you. Some holding looks of confusion, whilst others harbored glances of hope.

"This fae is lying! No way will they be satisfied with just one measly girl! No matter who we sacrifice to their so-called master, they'll still come after us! They'll still destroy our village! Let's not be stupid! Let's find a way to barricade the city instead of arguing over who to sacrifice!"

For an endless second all was quite. It was like the world had stopped turning, frozen in its place in the universe trying to decide what to do.

Then it happened,

Chants reverberating through the air

"Sacrifice her!" "Sacrifice her!"

"Sacrifice her!"........................

WHAT!

NO!

DID THOSE MORONS NOT LISTEN TO A SINGLE WORD YOU SAID!

The crowd started advancing. Eyes locked on your figure like those of a leopard on its prey. Their mouths were all a gap, chanting the words "sacrifice" over and over again. From behind the mob, your eyes locked with your sister's. You could practically feel the despair rolling off her figure as she covered her eyes and fell to her knees, her whole body rattling with a sort of distant rage...

A full day....it's funny how time passes all so quickly no matter what you do. Day in and day out nothing changes, pain is still pain, laughter is still laughter. Time just keeps slipping from between your fingers like sand. Even in the direst of times, Time doesn't show mercy, never once does it cease. It just ticks and ticks away until the inevitable moment arrives.

Your sister and aunt -the only two relatives that you hadn't lost to the fae- were in charge of preparing you for your so-called "wedding". Since your town was poor and isolated from other civilizations there wasn't much they could do to enhance your beauty. Smashing some berries to add color to your lips -and fervently ravishing the remains- using some coal to add shade behind your eyes, as well as around them and patting the dust of rose petals against your cheek. By the end, you hardly recognized the person staring back from the mirror. Sure the adjustments were minor but this was the most stunning you'd ever looked. "Is it almost time" your voice quivered, failing to hide the tears that began to fall. "Please don't cry sweetheart, we don't have any more coal to fix your eyes with." Your aunt's tone was monotone almost bordering on heartless. You couldn't really blame her, she'd gotten so used to having her loved ones plucked from her. One more would be no different. Sniffing as to keep the tears at bay, you nodded slowly. Your glossy eyes locked with your aunt's you could see the same fear and exhaustion in her fading irises as the night her son was slaughtered in front of her.

"Just a few reminders" your sister's voice was cheery like the chirping of early morning birds, but her face mimicked that of a kicked puppies. "Remember when the prince...fae...when he..you know...Oh, Lord please tell me he won't" She was shivering again. Her face twisted in horror. You knew what she was thinking, she was imagining you laying in the bed of that...that thing. She was imagining him entering you, kissing up and down your neck. Leaving patches of red skin over smooth flesh, bruises wherever his clawed hands touched you. She was imagining what was no doubt going to happen to you tonight...

the mere thought made bile rise to your throat.

"Darling, just keep saying how much you like it. It's all any man wants to hear." again your aunt or rather her lackluster form of speech was the rope binding you to your sanity.

"Do fae even have...those parts like humans do?" Your sister asked, only to be met with a glare from your aunt. "Stop wasting time on pointless questions! Hurry up and see if this dress fits your sister."

Sure enough, as you were escorted to where the thorn bushes met the village, two men, one standing tall and proud, whilst the other looked like he may topple over from fatigue at any moment, were awaiting you.

The green-haired man let out a haughty laugh, his blazing eyes scanning you from head to toe. "She's hardly worthy of the young master!" His dreadful voice was like the booming of thunder clouds. "It doesn't matter, Malleus-sama needs to be wedded off quickly so he can produce an heir. None of us are getting any younger by standing here debating the "worthiness" of yet another measly human" the silver-haired male's voice was the exact opposite of his comrades, his voice was soft and breathy like light drizzle after a storm.

The green-haired man looked ready to argue once more, but before he could open his mouth, his violet-eyed counterpart waved something thin in the air casing a pathway to open between the hedges.

It was dark between the brambles. The air was thick, stuffy, every breath was a struggle. Although it seemed neither of your traveling buddies minded the discomfort. Did fae even need air to survive?

After what could have been no less than a couple of hours, your small group made it to a large clearing where only a few rays of the sun leaked through the thick smoky clouds. Miss matched flowers in shades of grey littered the rocky barren ground. Maybe at some point, this place had been beautiful, stunning even...but whenever that time had been it was long gone now.

As you ventured farther into this monochrome land of loss and sorrow, the three of you approached a castle. It towered over everything else, grim in all its glory. "Young master Malleus is awaiting you inside..." The green-haired male's voice trailed off as his speech was interrupted by the deafening creaking of the doors parting open. Without another word the two men dragged you inside, pushing you through spiral staircases and long bleak passageways. Until you arrived at a lavish-looking room, a large throne sitting smugly in the front of the room. It's black, spiked appearance was enough to make you gasp in horror, you didn't desire to meet the monster that perched atop that throne. "Don't be so afraid." the silver-haired man whispers, his head is almost resting on your shoulder. "Malleus-sama is kind and fair. He is sure to love you better than any human ever could." you catch a hint of nostalgic sadness in the last part, like a long lost part of the lavender eyed boy's past caught in his throat like a glass shard.

Trumpets roared through the room blaring as two men, one short and fickle whilst the other tall and brooding walked in. "Malleus~" The short one sang as they both stopped in front of you "Say hello to your lovely new wife." the tall man's emerald eyes landed on you. His lips parted in a threatening smile...or maybe it was a smirk? He didn't seem to be too good at displaying emotions. Slowly he descended onto one knee, slipping your hand into his and kissing the top lightly.

"Hello, my darling little wife."

🧡🦁Leona Kingscholar🦁🧡

The After Glow Savanna was an absolute hell to be born in if your family did not belong to some royal inner court class. The endless days spent scavenging for scraps of food, walking miles for a simple glass of water, had become a sort of broken, habit beaten into the residents of the smaller less fortunate districts.

Eventually, you too would follow in your parent's footsteps, working odd jobs around the neighborhood, getting married to some guy, having kids, and giving them the same dreary life your parents had given you. It was simple -miserable- but simple never the less. In an odd way, you found a sort of comfort in how everything was set in stone. How you'd suffer through a few years then die of starvation or some disease in your husband's arms.

But little did you know that the only comfort you had in your horrible life was also going to be swiped from you.

When Ruggie, a dear childhood friend of yours returned from his prestigious school for the winter holidays you were overjoyed! A week with your best friend was the greatest gift you could ask for! But that excitement soon dulled when he announced to the neighborhood what the royal family had planned for the underdeveloped parts of the country.

"They want to demolish the homes and build parks and shopping strips instead"

The people of your tiny community gasped, shock and hopelessness mixing over their dirty, worn out faces. Some older siblings shielded the ears of their younger kin, some mothers hugged their children closer to their chests. "They can't do that to us!" Your voice was like a beacon through the thick fog of confusion. "We can't let them!" You turned to Ruggie who was seated next to you. His blue-grey eyes held a foreign sadness that you had never seen before. He was hiding something...something so grim that he was forced to shove it into the depths of his soul, locking it up and throwing away the key.

"There is a way..."

For such a hopeful phrase, Ruggie's tone harbored no happiness. You could practically see the tears that were clouding his beautiful eyes. "Tell us" someone from the crowd demanded, others soon joined in with their own chants. For a long moment, Ruggie said nothing, the shouts of despair falling on deaf ears.

"If.." his voice trailed off, as his gaze grew distant.

"If someone from the neighborhood were to marry the second prince..." Gasps of fear filled the air. Even the mere mention of the second prince's name was enough to send chills down people's spins.

"Then they could, as the newly appointed princess, convince the royal family and counsel to scrap this monstrous plan." No one uttered another word. No one was brave enough to face the man who could destroy anything with a simple touch.

But the sake of these people, people who had nothing but their families and a muddy roof over their head was on the line.

Do something, a tiny voice in your head screamed, save them, it begged. You shifted your head so to get a glimpse of Ruggie's face. "I-" you began but were cut off before you could even finish.

"I know you would say that."

His voice broke over every syllable. He knew you would give up your depressing nostalgia for the sake of others. Life in the castle would be hell, being married to that monster would be something worst than the dwellings of the devil.

It was a speedy arrangement, so fast that your head didn't have time to process anything. In the end, it almost seemed like the royal family was desperate to find a spouse for their youngest son.

Just marry him! Was what all the absentee looks told you.

Early that morning, Ruggie had dragged you to the castle, all tears, and grumbles. The palace guards let him in with no restrain, it almost felt like he'd been here before. Your childhood friend led you to a room in the further corner of a grand hall. He told you to stay outside as he went in to chat with the prince. Moments later the newly appointed king and queen came to usher you into a privet room and discuss the marriage. Not an hour later your fate had been sealed, you'd be married off to prince Leona tomorrow at sunrise. For "historical purposes" your neighborhood would be preserved and even taken care of. 'Historical purposes' you thought 'more the like a bribe to get you to marry this beast.

that night you were dragged this way and that by the queen herself. Taken for fitting after fitting. Trying on hundreds of wedding dresses who's prices could feed every mouth in your neighborhood for months! "Leona isn't very classy" the queen sighed in disappear. "He would probably prefer you to be in something laxer, shorter if you will" the tailors ran around trying to find something that would fit her vague description, as you stood facing her royal highness.

"What's he like?" you asked soullessly

"Spoiled, although not as heartless as the rumors make him out to be" She didn't seem to like giving straight answers

"will he harm me? It was an honest question, although the lack of thinking it took before the queen replied made your heart skipped a beat.

"Quite possibly, he is rather...aggressive at times. Just don't let his degrading comments get to you. He's not used to being around people"

The more she described the second-born prince the more it seemed she was actually speaking of some feral dog that had raised in isolation.

Oh, how doomed you were.

The wedding was even faster than the preparation. Ruggie walked you down an aisle of flowers, walking over the petals, killing them once and for all, ending their pointless existence. You stood by your self at the altar awaiting your husband to be. It took a rather long time before the doors were flung open and the king waltzed in carrying his struggling brother under his arm. "No need to worry, Leona was taking one of his catnaps again and forgot about today's events" the king announced, in what could only be described as a mock lively tone.

How on earth does someone forget their wedding! This prince really wasn't a typical human...heck you where beginning to think that the feral dog would have made a better groom.

snap, snap

A few magazine pictures here, a couple of family photos there...

Everything was so bright and loud...

right before you and the second prince were thrown into the darkness of his room. In the obscurity, you could ONLY make out the glowing of his emerald eyes.

You could feel him shifting closer, all the while you took shaking steps backwards. " I thought wives were supposed to leap into the arms of their husbands? Tell me little herbivore do I frighten you?"

Your voice refused to leave your throat, too afraid to come into contact with the prince.

"What's the matter? Did they not teach you to speak in on the streets you grew up on. Poor thing~"

Leona pounced across the room, tackling you to the ground. His sheer weight pinning you to the carpeted floor. The sound of fabric tearing echoed through the silence.

How careless these royal were was the only intelligible thought that came to your frenzied brain.

Goosebumps littered your skin as Leona's claws cut into your flesh. His lips kissed over each wound as he made his way up to your cherry painted lips.

"You look so cute, you know, like a little mouse about to get devoured by a starving lion."

💙💀Idia Shroud💀💙

The rhythm of his heartbeat was slowing down, it felt like the patter of ants atop one's flesh. He was dying...this was an irreversible fact. The love of your life was dying and there was nothing you could do but sit idly by and watch the life fade from his pale bruised face. Your thumb ran over his knuckles in robotic-like strokes. Hours had passed, you'd shed all the tears that you had. He was gone...that was all there was to it.

For a hopeless second, you flicked your eyes to the open window on the opposite side of the room, There was never any sun on the island of lamination but regardless today seemed brighter than any other day. "How cruel" you muttered in a deadpan voice. Outside something...or better yet...someone was running through the fields, chasing what looked like a butterfly. The young child had blazing blue hair a symbol of the Shroud family...

THE SHROUD FAMILY

Your breath hitch in your lungs, your heart began to pound furiously in your chest. They could help you though hopefully. There family where distant relatives of the god of the underworld and a few years back -to your regulation- the hair of the family had been able to semi revive his younger brother. If he was able to bring back a child from the dead than surly they would have no problem returning your lost lover to you.

Your eyes waltz over his dormant face one last time before you got up and ran for the door.

"This is all for you my love, all of this is for you"

The Shroud family mansion was located at the top of one of the many hills that plagued the island. It was a dark grisly building that resembled the castles from old tales, where monsters laid dormant. Rumors spiraled around the rural civilization, some saying that the family was cursed by the lord of the dead, whilst others claimed that the shroud family were the long lost descendants of the lord of the dead and the maiden of spring. The curse had been placed on the family by the temperamental mother of the maiden of spring, anathematizing the family to be plagued with death and disappear for the rest of eternity.

Regardless of what their misfortune was, they may very well be the last people on earth who could help you. Surely if the family had brought back their youngest than they could bring back your lover!

You knuckles tapped furiously at the old metal doors of the frightful residence. The rhythm was unkept, unsteady, it's mere sound radiated urgency.

"PLEASE HELP ME"

Your throat burned as you screamed out those three lousy words.

After what felt like forever, the doors cracked open, revealing a tall man obscured by the shadows. Any light that touched the interior of the house seemed to die acidity, making peering inside nearly impossible.

"What business do you have?" The man's voice was croaky as if his vocal cords hadn't been used in years. For a split second, you closed your eyes, trying to organize the thoughts in your head. "My...my...h-hus...lover, my lover is d-dead...o-or rather he is dying....probably fully gone by now..." despite the mess of stuttered letters and mixed-up words, the man seemed to understand your situation. With a long sigh, he pulled you into the somber house.

Fingers still wrapped tightly around your wrist he pulled you around, guiding you through the darkness until you reached a large room lit only by the mysterious blue flames of the fireplace. Sitting by the warmth was a...well it was hard to tell, her face -despite it displaying every bone of her visage coupled with dark sunken eyes- resembled that of a woman no older than thirty, whilst her body resembled a decaying skeleton. What was she? Was she the lady of the residence or yet another monster this bizarre family had created.

"My, love" the man began to speak, his voice was somehow cleared like it had been given some sort of jolt. "This young lady needs Idia's help, she wants to bring back her lover from the dead."

The woman said nothing, her eyes staring ahead, burning a hole in the wall right by your head. "What will she give him in return" despite her "deteriorating" appearance her voice was like soft silk on one's skin, melodious and fair.

"Why herself!" This time the man's voice boomed across the house, echoing through the hallways and falling on you like a cave in.

"M-myself! What the hell do you mean!"

"It sounds fair" the women agreed "my darling sweet son saves your lover and instead you agree to marry him! Oh how wonderful, just like in the tales about grandfather Hades!"

She seemed too thrilled about this, her snow-white eyes gleaming with a sort of delusional passion.

"Idia! Idia honey! Come down your father has a surprise for you!"

The hollow sound of footsteps soon filled the quiet air. Followed by another soft blue glow.

Was there no normal fire in this house?

But it wasn't fire, not exactly. When your eyes fell on the heir of the Shroud family, you suddenly felt a nervous wave crash over you. There was something -even more- unsettling about him, he looked nothing like his charming little brother. For one his hair wasn't...well hair! Sure you'd expect a small batch of blazes heading upwards but this was something else entirely! It resembled a large bonfire that floated towards the ground, rouge sparks falling in every which direction, sizzling and then dying abandoned on the floor. And his eyes, Miosis like pupils floating around in a pool of lemon yellow.

But all the physical appearances aside, the most unsettling thing about him was the gloomy aura that leaked off him, suffocating anyone in his presence. Nervously you took a step back only to be yanked forward again by the taller man.

"Idia baby!" His mother ran over to him, cradling his hands in hers "This cute young lady has agreed to marry you if you can save her lover, just like in that old tale about your great grandfather! Oh, my this is all so romantic!"

It seemed like no one here understood that you were in love WITH SOMEONE ELSE! Or maybe they did and chose to disregard it. Instead, using the bits they retained as kindling to feed their raw excitement. You shifted your gaze back to Idia's face. To your utter terror, he was...smiling? Could that...look...even be called a smile? It seemed more like the way a shark would bare its teeth at a defenseless seal! Oh, gods please don't let this...thing...be your future husband!

"It should be easy enough," His golden gaze landed on you "W-when did...did he die?" it took a few moments before you register that he was talking to you or technically asking you something. "A...A few..." your voice cracked, tears streaming down your eyes.

"So recently...okay that shouldn't be a p-problem." He turned on his heels and walked back into the seclusion of the halls "I'll grab some things and meet you by the front door"

A few things ended up being a pile of wires and bolts. Something that looked like a light blue ball of energy and so many tools whose names seemed to go over your head.

Idia was kneeling by your lover's bed, pulling apart the skin and fusing metal in its place. Your darling's chest was cracked open, his ribs poking out towards the sky as if praying for life from the lord of the sky. Every once in awhile Idia would pull out a long tool with smoke floating from the top. He'd lay it on an organ watching as the tissue fiber sizzled away under the heat. He would then tie wires and small circular batteries inside.

"His heart stopped working, I'm guessing from some sort of shock"

You just hummed in response, too caught up in how the man you loved was beginning to look like a modern-day Frankenstein rather than a human being.

The sun had long since faded when Idia finally got up from his spot. His bones cracked and screeched at the sudden change, his muscles giving out halfway leaving him to rely on the wall for support to stand. Your lover's chest had been sewn back and covered with a silver piece of metal. His neck was wrapped in the same sort of alloy. His left arm had been cut open so Idia could shove the energy ball inside than cover it, leaving a small enough gap for wires that stretched from his chest to weld into the ball.

"He just needs a boost" Idia murmured that shark-like grin overtaking his pale face once more. From the side table, he plucked up to jumper cables and clipped them on either side of his neck. Jolts and crackles filled the room and sparks flew in every direction, the once-dead body shuffled around, arms and legs moving at random. You shrieked and duck behind Idia.

Only then did he pry the clips from his neck.

Nothing

for too long nothing happened... then there was a slight wiggle in one finger, then another. His eyes slowly began to prey open, looking over his surroundings. The moment his confused gaze feel onto you. Idia turned you around to face him, clumsily smashing his blue chapped lips onto yours.

From the corner of his eyes, Idia watched as the other man began to understand what was happening...even if he was just resurrected there was still agony at the sight of his lover kissing another...

Good! That should show him who you belonged to now!

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oathkeeper-of-tarth · 3 years ago

Text

The d’Avenir Treatise on the Essentials of Monster Hunting (Vol I) - Preface and Introduction

The timing of this whole thing with the campaign is pretty amazing, as it turns out. In the middle of absolute work hell and attempts to sort out my general apartment/living situation, a little while ago I entered a fic into the /r/CurseOfStrahd second annual fanfic contest. It was one of my attempts to kind of write out and process the way our own run through the module went, stretch out some poor, suffering, unused writing muscles, and it was also super duper self-indulgent. So I'm very, very proud to say it won first place amidst some really great competition, and super happy to rep my best girl Ez.

Summary: In the aftermath of Strahd's destruction and the not-quite-loss of her mentor, Ezmerelda d'Avenir sets out to tie up loose ends and lay some ghosts to rest, and continues carving out a path for herself in the Domains of Dread.

Word count: 9999, as there was a 10k limit. I had fun.

Rating/Warnings: T, with canon-typical violence, and dealing with death and loss in a general gothic horror setting. Spoilers for the Curse of Strahd module.

---

The d’Avenir Treatise on the Essentials of Monster Hunting (Vol I) - Preface and Introduction

Being a compendium of successes, failures, tricks, and warnings relating to detecting, tracking, fighting, and ultimately destroying undead, fiends, lycanthropes, and assorted monstrosities.

1.1. Introductory remarks

Their ride back to town is a quiet one. The silence is broken only once they are sitting, their hunting and travelling gear half-unpacked and strewn about, in the library just above van Richten's herbalist shop.

"Were we in any other profession, this would be a cause for celebration," van Richten's lips twist into a bittersweet wisp of a smile, and he pushes a warm cup of tea into her hands. "A demonstration of pride in an apprentice's first job well done, for all to see and revel in."

Ezmerelda tries to look up at him and meet his gaze properly, but her shoulders, her head, her eyes all feel too heavy. A leaden weight seems to have settled on every bit of her. She is tired, bone-deep, but the very thought of lying down and closing her eyes to attempt to sleep fills her with disgust and no small amount of dread. She knows exactly what she will see. The man, just on the cusp of middle age, entirely unremarkable at first... features quickly twisting into a mask of monstrous hunger, then to wide-eyed horror, and, finally, resorting to desperate pleas for mercy as the stake hits home and his screeching form dissolves to ash.

It feels like the ash still coats the back of her mouth. The tea smells of strong herbs, with just a whiff of something even stronger that van Richten must have snuck in from the liquor cabinet. Her hands clench around the cup, and a burning need to justify and defend herself drives her to finally speak up.

"I was ready," she insists. "I am ready."

"I know," van Richten replies, softly, sadly.

The tea scalds her tongue, but she drinks it anyway.

---

Getting up from the damp, cold floor of the tomb again feels like an impossibility. She can barely keep her head above the ground, eyes stinging with a mixture of blood and sweat and the glare of pure, magical sunlight. The clawed gashes on her ribcage burn with every weak, hard-won breath, and a metallic taste coats the back of her tongue.

But she is not done yet. She has one last lightning bolt left in her, and Strahd and his dusk elf lackey are so beautifully, perfectly aligned. Ezmerelda can't keep her lips from curling up into a smirk as she raises an arm and mutters her incantation, feeling that familiar tickle of static rising all around her.

She holds on, builds it up as much as she can, teeth grinding together, ears buzzing - until she can hold on no longer, and the energy flies from her, the flash near-blinding, the roar of accompanying thunder ringing in her ears.

She sees it hit home, the first traces of foggy vapour swirling around Strahd's convulsing form, and a beautiful satisfaction fills her.

Then, she lets herself go.

An instant or an eternity later someone is shaking her into jarring and painful wakefulness, jostling her head against the rough floor. Her mouth is filled with the bitter aftertaste of a potion, and she grimaces as she feels the familiar residue on her lips and chin.

"Fine, fine, old man, relax, I'm up," she manages, slurring the words, struggling to blink her eyes open and into focus. "I'm awake. Stop it."

But it's not him.

It is Ireena, wide-eyed gaze somehow growing wider still at her words. The reason for this becomes abundantly and agonisingly clear as she points to somewhere behind Ezmerelda... to where Rudolph van Richten lies, very pale and very still, a greater and more profound calm upon him than she has ever witnessed.

"No."

She didn't even see him fall.

"Why didn't you help him?" Ezmerelda knocks the empty potion bottle away, and it clatters loudly against the stone, finally finding rest near a streak of dark ashes. "What are you waiting for, what--"

"I tried. It was... it's too late," Ireena whispers, "I'm sorry."

Ezmerelda feels shame flood her immediately at the misaimed anger. "No. No, I'm sorry. It's not your fault. I'm sorry. I just-- wait." Awareness of just where they are and what they were in the middle of doing suddenly overwhelms her, and she feels panic crawl up her spine. "Is it over? Did you stake that bastard once and for all?"

Ireena nods, mouth curling in visible distaste. "I did, just like you said to. Your last hit - it was enough to force him to turn into mist, and then, when... when he reformed in the coffin, I did it."

The relief Ezmerelda feels at that is so bitter it burns. "I missed it, then," she murmurs, and feels ridiculous immediately afterwards. Ireena shakes her head, and helps her sit up.

She allows herself a few precious moments of rest against the cold, damp wall of the crypt, eyes painfully locked on van Richten's still, still form. As soon as she feels half-capable of moving, she all but drags herself to his side. Feeling for a pulse, a breath, anything at all to help her disbelieve what is plainly before her eyes.

She finds no such thing. He's dead, and it feels like a stake through her own heart. After all her efforts, after getting into Barovia just to get the damned foolish old man off his self-destructive warpath and out, only to lose him now, to fail right at the end...

A pale shimmer falls over the scene before her, like a curtain right before her eyes. Ezmerelda blinks and shakes her head, but can't make it go away. She reaches up, and--

Erasmus all but swoops down to be face to face with her.

It takes her a moment to properly grasp what she is seeing. Erasmus. Somehow still there, his ghostly form hovering over his father's body. Gesturing at her wildly, pointing down at something, and, finally, using his ectoplasmic paint to draw... a circle within a circle, hanging in mid-air.

She follows his wordless instructions to the best of her current ability and, with some painfully suppressed reluctance, looks down at van Richten. And there on his finger is a ring that was certainly not there before.

Erasmus seems insistent and quite unusually agitated, so Ezmerelda takes the ring, trying not to register the coldness of the hand it was on, and puts it on numbly, feeling utterly beyond thought.

Suddenly, cutting through the fog that seems to have descended upon her mind, bubbling up like an idea from her own consciousness, a thought - a voice. A familiar voice.

'Ezmerelda? Ah. I see. Well, that could have gone decidedly better.'

She feels tears welling up in her eyes, an unstoppable burning in her chest. She wants to laugh until she can't breathe, or sob her lungs raw.

Instead, she sits back against the cool stone wall. As the adrenaline wears off, she becomes more aware of the extent of her injuries: the sting where foul claws raked across her midsection and upwards; the burns of magical fire on her palms. She fishes out the last potion from her pocket, and downs it in one greedy gulp. The relief is near-instant.

Her faculties at least somewhat returned to her, she opts for a laugh as she recognises the ring for what it is. Ireena looks at her with some concern, but Ezmerelda waves it away.

"A ring of mind shielding. Protect the mind, and store the soul, should the worst happen. Of course you of all people would come so prepared."

Ezmerelda twists the ring on her finger, marvels at the detailed engraving.

"Should I... we could... there's ways. To get you back. I mean..."

She trails off, and there is a brief pause before the voice in her mind pipes up again. 'No. No, I think, at long last, it is time for me to stop. And rest.'

Even though her entire being wishes to rail against this, to insist on the need for Rudolph van Richten to exist, and protest the injustice (just when she'd gotten him back!), Ezmerelda manages, barely, a soft, "I understand."

'There is still some work to do before that, though, no? Loose ends for us to take care of before, well...'

That, she feels far more comfortable with. It almost comes as a relief. "Yes, of course. First order of business, we will sit down, and we will work out a plan. And we will stick to that plan."

There is a soft chuckle in her mind.

"What's so funny? You love plans."

She imagines, in better, happier days, the old man - only slightly less old - shaking his head at her with a long-suffering smile.

'Thank you for humoring me, is all I'll say. Now, go handle things here properly and finish up, while I think of a list of priorities for us. Miss Kolyana is waiting for you.'

1.2. A brief reflection on personal experience

Ezmerelda is pulled into a room, hand clamped over her mouth. The door slams shut, and she almost stumbles as she is suddenly released.

"What in all the realms are you doing here?" The colourful half-elf carnival master hisses at her in a voice decidedly unlike the one he was just using in the downstairs taproom. Now that they are close, she can see the magical disguise of the Great Rictavio is utterly impeccable, but the eyes... the eyes are unmistakable.

They are also flooded with the closest thing to panic Ezmerelda has ever seen in them.

"I'm here to help you. You don't stand a chance on your own."

"How did you find me?"

Ezmerelda shrugs noncommittally, and doesn't look behind him. "I have my ways."

He shakes his head. "That isn't good enough. If his agents - and there are many, I assure you! - catch even a whiff--"

She finally glances at the ghostly form of Erasmus, just barely visible over Rictavio's shoulder, unable to be perceived by the one man he wishes he could reach out to and reassure. He meets her eyes and holds his finger up to his lips.

"I recognised your horse," she says, at long last.

"Dear Drusilla? Oh..." Rictavio seems to almost deflate at that, though his nervous pacing doesn't slow.

Erasmus' visage shows what has to be gratitude, or relief, or both. Then he closes his eyes, seemingly tired, and the shimmering remnants of him disappear from view.

"Damned stubborn, foolish girl..." Rictavio moves deftly around the small room, securing the shutters on its single window, locking the door from the inside, gaze darting around wildly. Then he reaches up and removes his hat, and Rudolph van Richten, looking more old and more worn than Ezmerelda was perhaps ever prepared to see, stands in his place.

"I had a plan, you know," he sighs, tossing the hat onto the bed. "One that I can now no doubt forget about entirely."

"There's no time for your endless preparation and planning. Any waiting game we try to play is a losing one. There's a young woman who desperately needs our help, a legendary weapon to be found, and there's a monster to hunt, feeding on an entire land. I've been to the castle, scouted out--"

"You've done what?"

Ezmerelda doesn't look at him and chooses to pace a small circle around the room herself. "The castle. Ravenloft. Getting in was a breeze - getting out was the hard part." She suppresses a brief shudder at the memory of her invisibility spell running out and Strahd's eyes boring directly into hers, as if he'd known she was there all along. "But, well, I managed. And more importantly, I found a way into his crypt."

Van Richten sits down on the bed, rubbing circles into his forehead.

"Ezmerelda, you can't be here." His voice sounds pained, almost. "You know you are not safe near me. My curse--"

"Sincerely, fuck your curse," Ezmerelda spits. "After all these years, it can wait a few days before striking. Can't be worse than what will happen to both of us and anyone involved if we can't manage to work together on this. We have to. I tried, by myself, but..."

She tries not to dwell on the terribly brief confrontation, the bite of the cold, cold grasp that seemed to steal the very life out of her, and her rather desperate escape.

"Ezmerelda," van Richten starts again, then pauses, and just looks at her - a long, heavy look. "Why?"

"There are still people who care about your well-being," she replies simply and softly, "no matter what you may believe."

Then she straightens her shoulders and allows the steel back into her voice. "So listen to me. We are going to stake that devil in his lair, and we are going to get out of this cursed land. Together."

For once, he doesn't argue.

---

Their lord and master may be gone, but there are plenty of foul things still crawling around Castle Ravenloft - and occasionally crawling out of it as well.

How lucky for the Village of Barovia, then, to have a monster hunter visiting.

"...so I think that should do it for that particular area of the barracks," Ezmerelda flicks a stray bit of zombie gunk off of her bracer, then casts an apologetic look at Ireena. "But who knows what else he has buried under there."

Ireena Kolyana, the girl haunted, hunted, and tormented by the vampire, deciding she's had enough of running, turning on him and wielding a sword of pure sunlight against him. Poetic justice, if Ezmerelda fancied herself a poet.

Ireena Kolyana, looking exhausted in a very different way, now caught up in burgomaster duties, barely finding time in her overstuffed schedule to hear about the results of Ezmerelda's latest expedition to the castle.

"You know," Ezmerelda begins, eyeing the stacks of papers and growing chaos on the desk between them, "if you ever get really tired of this, and miss life on the road..." she nods towards the window, and the wagon just outside it. "I have room for one more. And could always use a deft hand with a sword."

Ireena smiles, but the sadness underpinning it is palpable. "I can't, not now at least. There is too much to take care of here. And without Ismark..." a shadow falls briefly over her face, then she visibly forces it back. "Some day, maybe. I would honestly love to."

Ezmerelda nods, then moves to stand up, and holds out a hand expectantly. "Come on, you have time for a walk. A minute to escort me out and say goodbye, at least."

Ireena chuckles quietly and shakes her head, but pushes away from the desk and takes the proffered arm.

The sunlight is bright, tempered only by a wisp of white cloud here and there. Ezmerelda feels a light pull on her arm as Ireena stops on the threshold of the house for just a fraction of a moment. The hesitation is brief, barely noticeable, but the pause as if needing to catch her breath and the subsequent dawning joy - pure, almost radiant by itself - as the sunlight hits her skin--

Ezmerelda realises she's staring, blinks, and makes herself look away.

Their stroll is indeed brief, and as soon as they turn the corner and reach the parked wagon, Ireena sighs and stands half-ready to hurry back to her office and her duties.

"Hey," Ezmerelda puts what she hopes is a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I know you can handle all of this. Never doubt that."

This wins her a sincere smile. "Thank you."

Knowing there's no more point in delaying, Ezmerelda pulls away, moves to arrange her things around the wagon and prepare to leave.

"The offer stands," she says as she climbs into the driver's seat. "Keep it in mind."

"Maybe next time," Ireena replies with another sad smile. But then she pauses for a moment, almost as if thinking something over. Then she darts in quickly, and kisses Ezmerelda's cheek.

"Don't stay away too long," she says, quietly, then draws away again. Ezmerelda nods her agreement, and takes up the reins of her conjured horses.

Ireena waves her goodbye, and stands, looking on, bathed in sunlight.

And then the road turns, and she disappears from Ezmerelda's view.

'Well.'

"Shut up." Ezmerelda can feel her face burning. "Absolutely no need to read into things."

'You know I mean no offense. I only want the best for you.'

"I am perfectly fine," Ezmerelda grumbles. "Besides, this is the last thing she needs right now."

'You don't know that. Ask her sometime, perhaps, to tell you herself. Too many people have assumed too much about that young lady, I think. Myself included.'

"Oh, what do you know..."

There is a distinct sensation of stinging grief, never quite healed, as the voice comes again. 'You seem to forget I was young once. In love once. More... than once. And though it never ended well, like few things in my life did, the only thing I have ever regretted was not acting sooner. And regret is...'

"... the enemy of progress. I know." Ezmerelda sighs, the old man's oft-repeated saying rattling around in her mind as she snaps the reins and takes them down the road westward. "Maybe next time."

1.3. Materials and methods, an overview

Her balance is off still, but the past few weeks have brought incredible improvement. She flicks her rapier upwards, then lunges - back, forth, back, forth, fully and properly bearing weight on her right side in the training yard for the first time in months. The new prosthetic is truly a work of art and a masterful display of craftsmanship. Ezmerelda feels almost giddy at the sensation of ducking and weaving under the wooden limbs of the training dummy, feinting deftly, ignoring the burn in her arm and shoulder. The maneuvers are not yet close to her peak speed and fluidity and elegance, not after the long, arduous recovery she is only now reaching the end of. But it is all so very, very promising.

It also brings to mind - because how could it not, when for the better part of the past half-year she has had more time to think, and remember, and reflect than in her entire life? - van Richten's drills. He was always far more of a theoretician than practitioner of swordfighting, but he was certainly no slouch with a blade. The precision and perfection of form he insisted on instilling in her initially seemed to clash with her more free, improvisational, off-the-cuff approach, but ended up blending with it to great effect in ways that occasionally surprised them both.

She goes through attack patterns he's drilled into her and realises she misses him, the cantankerous old man and all his frustrating ways, and suddenly finds herself fervently wishing she wasn't doing this alone. She spares a moment to imagine the amount of fussing over her he would likely have insisted on, with his overprotective bedside manner that she used to chafe and scoff at whenever one of their hunts went badly for her. She thinks of all the lovely, fleeting drawings Erasmus would have made for her.

Her next step is careless, thoughtless, distracted, and as a result only a little off. The lunge is misaimed, unbalanced, and her knee twists unpleasantly. For the briefest flash of a moment she could swear she can feel the teeth sinking in again, and the horrible tearing.

Ezmerelda winces, fingers clenched around the rapier's handle, knuckles white. Her teeth grit as the wave of pain subsides so very, very slowly, but doesn't quite go away. She remembers, belatedly, that she has an audience.

"Ah, almost there," she calls back to the artisan eagerly awaiting her feedback, voice forcefully kept steady, without turning to face them, and taps her rapier on the metal plating running up from the heel. "We'll need to make another slight adjustment to the ankle joint, I think. But this is definitely and by far the best one yet. Let me get some more practice first, and we can go over the details in the afternoon."

Ezmerelda doesn't wait to see if her words are acknowledged. She hefts the rapier back up.

---

Before she reaches the first crossroads west of Vallaki, she turns the wagon south and into the woods.

"I have some unfinished business of my own to settle first," Ezmerelda states very matter-of-factly, preempting any interrogation from the ring's general direction.

The wagon trail to the top of the hill is easier to navigate than ever, and the camp is abuzz with activity, as it usually is. But this time the feel of it all is a bit different.

Ezmerelda knows it well; the air of a caravan packing up to leave.

Arabelle sees her weaving through the horses, strolling towards the large central tent, and darts towards her immediately, then freezes not three feet away. Ezmerelda can tell plain as the new Barovian day that she is torn between looking dignified and throwing herself at her in a hug.

So she crouches down and opens her arms first, and is almost knocked over when Arabelle rushes in.

"I want to show you something I've been practicing," Arabelle whispers conspiratorially, "but you'll need to lend me a dagger."

Ezmerelda's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but she obliges the girl after only a moment's contemplation, still crouched down and one arm around her narrow shoulders.

The dagger is one of the smaller ones she usually keeps concealed, but even so it seems far too large in Arabelle's hands. Nevertheless, in a few surprisingly dextrous motions with only a couple of moments of hesitation, she seems to make it disappear - then produces it again as if out of thin air.

"Huh. Impressive. Did your uncle teach you that little trick?"

Arabelle nods, but her pride is palpable. "Papa was so mad! He says that both him and you are a bad influence and I am far too young to be handling blades."

"There's no such thing," Ezmerelda scoffs, but motions for her dagger back and tucks it away safely. "Where is your father? I wanted to speak with him."

"Luvash is busy," another voice cuts in cooly, and Arrigal steps out of the fading, scarce shadows, somehow slipping under her notice even with the bright streams of sunlight all around. "But you can speak with me."

Ezmerelda stands up slowly, and can see him sizing her up.

"Run along now, Arabelle," Arrigal says in a much warmer tone of voice, but without taking his eyes off Ezmerelda for even a moment.

Arabelle gives her one last look as she turns to leave, and Ezmerelda tries to give her a reassuring smile - but then she realises Arabelle doesn't seem concerned or reluctant or... anything at all. She seems supremely calm, and not seven years old at all.

Arrigal steps forward and, even as uncannily quiet as he always is, it startles her back into the moment. Then, he reaches out a hand.

Ezmerelda meets his gaze, steps forward, and takes it. The handshake is firm, and she smirks. "Looks like you backed the losing side, cousin."

The term of address rolls off her tongue with some bite of irony in it. Arrigal inclines his head in acknowledgement. "You can't say it wasn't a fairly sure bet. A matter of survival, of course. We do what we must to keep our people safe. But," and he draws a bit closer, as if letting her in on a secret. "I'm glad he didn't send me after you."

Ezmerelda nods, and decides she isn't in the mood for a debate. "You know, so am I. I would have hated having to kill you. Instead, here you are, in an excellent position for a little introspection, changing your ways... much better this way, isn't it?"

He shakes his head with a grin, and finally lets go of her hand. "You are a menace. But we follow the traditions, and you have a place here. Where are you going?"

"Borca," she says, and pointedly doesn't elaborate further.

Arrigal laughs. "Off to more of your grim business right away! Well, one has to admire your tenacity. You can stay, of course, and leave with us tomorrow. We will share the road at least part of the way."

So Ezmerelda stays, and exchanges news of recent caravan routes and planned Mist-traversal with Luvash. The fire roars to life as the sun sets. Tales are told, and she contributes some of her own.

"Regale us, cousin," Arrigal says, grinning wolf-sharp, arms open wide as if to encompass the entire camp, "with the story of the fall of the devil Strahd."

Arabelle is a delight, as always. The truce with Arrigal, if it can be called that, is uneasy, but holds. The ring is quiet.

Arabelle insists on riding with her in the morning ("You did fish her out of that lake... brought her back to us," Luvash grumbles. "I suppose there's no harm... I'll have none of that monster-hunting nonsense, though!"). Her delight at the summoned magical horses is palpable, even as she tries to hide it. Ezmerelda gives her the reins until they need to enter the Mists, and is only slightly surprised to see her managing well, with just a few pointers here and there.

The whole way, Arabelle demands stories of her and van Richten's exploits very matter-of-factly - interrogates, almost, at times. Her eyes are large, intent, focused, as Ezmerelda obliges, for hours.

"I knew you would win," Arabelle says at one point, breaking a rare longer stretch of silence between them. "Uncle didn't want to listen to me, but I knew."

Ezmerelda looks at her, matches her seriousness. "I hope he will learn to listen, one day soon."

1.4. Common pitfalls

Ezmerelda inches back to consciousness more than wakes, and hisses as she almost reflexively tries and fails to sit up. She recognises her own bed in the former guest room above the herbalist shop, but the details of how she got there are fuzzy at best, completely absent at worst. She is, however, very aware of a merciless pounding in her head and that she has most certainly just pulled some fresh stitches.

A swirl of colourful ectoplasm greets her when she next opens her eyes, Erasmus' fleeting but always lovely and cheerful greetings hovering above her.

Well. Ezmerelda forces a pained smile at him, knowing that if he is here, his father cannot be far, and--

Ah. Familiar footsteps on the stairs, and the distinct creak of the second one from the top, as Rudolph van Richten enters the room with uncanny timing.

He doesn't seem to be surprised to see her awake as he gives her a quick look-over, even as concern and frustration clearly war on his face.

"I thought we had reached an agreement," he begins at last, very deliberately calmly.

Ezmerelda doesn't reply.

"I thought," he continues with that same calm tone, "that we had made a plan. That was my distinct impression of our last conversation."

Ezmerelda clenches her teeth, then grinds out, "I couldn't just stand by and let that beast--"

"You could have voiced your disagreements with the plan and brought your concerns to me, instead of running off on your own in the middle of the night," van Richten is clearly struggling to keep his voice level. "You almost died."

"Fine, I am voicing my disagreements. We know it's a wereboar. Just go at it with our silvered weapons, set up an ambush where we found its lair... why wait? Why give it more chances to hurt people?"

"To be absolutely certain we have all the information. That we have looked at it from every angle, that we have not overlooked a crucial detail. Minimise its chances to hurt us."

"But by then it might have mauled half the village to death, or worse!"

Van Richten's gaze on her is sharp. "And if we get ourselves pointlessly killed, are the villagers any safer for our hasty, brash, ill-thought sacrifice?"

"Hasty, brash, and ill-thought. Fine, if that’s how it is, how you think of me," Ezmerelda throws her hands up, and wishes she could march off, slamming a door shut behind her for good measure, as childish as the thought makes her feel.

Van Richten sighs deeply, and pulls up a chair to sit next to her bed. Ezmerelda recognises it as one from downstairs, and feels a small stab of guilt at the thought of him setting up a vigil at her bedside.

"We can't go rushing in on half-checked information," van Richten begins, after a brief silence, looking down at his hands. "We can't, because... because I have done that, in the past. And people - good, brave, dedicated people who chose to stand against evil, people who trusted me - died as a result."

"I have been wrong," he continues, still not looking up. "I have followed faulty sources without the due diligence of thorough enough vetting. I have overlooked things, and I have lost many. I will not and cannot allow that to happen again. We have to be careful, patient, and vigilant, always."

"I'm not advocating for blindly rushing in," Ezmerelda protests, "I'm merely--"

"I won't have you on my soul as well. I have far too many already."

"And I won't have any more innocents on mine! We had all the relevant information two days ago. Four people could have been alive today if we had acted on time. We were right."

"And what about when you aren't, Ezmerelda? What about when you aren't?"

Ezmerelda looks him right in the eyes, steely. "Then I will make sure I am the one who pays the price for my own mistakes."

"Oh," van Richten smiles sadly, "If only that were possible."

---

The letter arrives just as she is preparing, to her great relief, to leave Port-à-Lucine for good. It is hand-delivered by an ostentatiously dressed man in a stylised fox mask, entirely - and Ezmerelda feels her lips curl in annoyance - unassuming and usual for the land of outrageous pretense that is Dementlieu. The way he seems to disappear in the moment it takes for her to glance down at what he has thrust into her hands is also something Ezmerelda finds hard to marvel at anymore.

Overjoyed to be able to return to the relative privacy and safety of her wagon, she tosses away her old harlequin mask in the sincere hopes of never having to put the damn thing on again. Then she throws herself on the bed and focuses on tearing into the sealed envelope, absorbing its mysterious contents.

After she reaches the end of the letter's brief text, she stays very still for a long while.

'Not a name I thought I would see again, if I am to be honest,' van Richten's voice comes slowly, sounding very wary.

Ezmerelda breathes out a frustrated sigh, an unidentifiable jumble of feelings warring in her chest and burning up her throat. She tries to reply several times, then stops, and closes her eyes. Collects herself, at least somewhat, and decides to focus on the practical. "How do we even know this isn't a forgery, or some sort of trap?"

'We don't. But it is a loose end I, for one, am not prepared to simply overlook.'

"She's tried before, but I never... I don't have time for this right now, I--," she throws the letter and the shredded envelope onto the chest at her bedside, and runs an annoyed hand through her hair, again, and again, and again. Thinking, or at least trying to.

'We have time. You and I both know it's not time that is the problem.'

They are nearing the end of their planned journey, finishing up their business with Alanik Ray and Arthur Sedgwick's latest investigations and bidding farewell to Dementlieu. And then it was supposed to be on to Mordent, to call in at the Mordentshire shop briefly, and afterwards to Darkon - to Rivalis, and the villages surrounding the old Richten estate. Some ghouls to fight off, wraiths to purge, ghosts to lay to rest, to help the villagers out, before... well. They'll come to that when they do.

Ezmerelda can't deny the detour would only be a brief one.

"A 'loose end'," she huffs. "Really."

'I am just trying to help you. Don't waste years of your life like I have, either bitter or wondering or fleeing. Confront your - our - past, at least this part. Lay it to rest, if you can.'

"The past does not lie behind us. It is part of what we are, and part of what we always will be," Ezmerelda recites, then sighs again. "Old Vistani saying."

A moment of silence. 'Make sure it is a good part, then.'

Ezmerelda's memory of her mother feels... not fuzzy, but perhaps a bit tweaked and twisted over the years, more by feelings overtaking it than by any fault of recall. The images of what she remembers and what now stands before her don't match, but have a strange, dissonant overlap, leaving visible in the centre a woman Ezmerelda could almost, almost imagine seeing in the mirror. One she hoped to never see again after that night of wordless parting, many years ago.

Years of imprisonment seem to have been surprisingly kind to Madame Irena Radanavich. She has wormed her way into some kind of favour with someone powerful here, no doubt, as has always been her utterly unscrupulous way. The cell is clearly a formality, more of an office than anything, a parlour for receiving agents and lackeys, as well as bosses. There is even a chair - a worn, old wooden frame with faded red upholstery - placed a little ways away from the bars, facing them. Ezmerelda also gets a distinct impression that the guard standing in the corner is not there for any visitor's safety or protection.

The woman in the cell seems to light up the moment she sets eyes on Ezmerelda strolling into the cell space with a pretense of casualness.

"My, how you've grown! My, and yet-- oh, darling," concern seems to flood her face and voice, and - there, a subtle, wry twist - Ezmerelda thinks she catches a false, even mocking undertone to it. A flash, and it’s gone, and perhaps she merely imagined it, or even wanted it to be there, an ache for some semblance of simplicity to box this woman in. "There's both more and less of you than last time I saw you."

"Really?" Ezmerelda scoffs, and almost wants to laugh. "All those tales I've heard of your vicious, clever, insidious scheming, and that's the best you can come up with?" She crosses her arms, and clicks her metal heel against the floor loudly. "Not an angle you can use against me, I'm afraid. Try again."

"You wound me!" A dramatic hand placed over her chest. "Treating your own mother like that, who has never had anything but your best interests at heart. Who you've never even come to visit."

Ezmerelda slips the opened letter through the bars, letting it land on the hewn stone on the other side. Then she moves to sit down on the solitary chair.

"I'm only here because I got your letter."

"Oh! Good. My dearest Ezmerelda, I was--"

"I am here to tell you I want you to leave me alone," Ezmerelda continues, acting as if she hasn't heard a word. "For good. Forget I exist, preferably. I want nothing to do with you, and I never will. And the only thing I might want to do with your plotting and scheming is foiling it, so it is in your best interest to leave me out of it all. And van Richten..."

The saccharine smile dips down, almost into a scowl. "And here I'd heard you'd finally seen sense and parted ways with that old fool."

"You hear much, I see," Ezmerelda replies, cooly.

"I have my ways. My sources. People loyal to me, who have yet to abandon me."

Ezmerelda feels the swipe like an airy almost-cut of a dagger that just barely misses. "Well, here's something new for you, then. Something your little web-weaving spiders seem to have missed. You'll be happy to hear he's dead."

"And right away you come back to me! Time to end your silly games, eh, Ezme? Good, good. A start--"

"You have no right to call me that," Ezmerelda cuts her off, rapidly losing her will to restrain herself.

"Come now, dear. That's no way to talk to your mother, your own flesh and blood. It's about time we set all this nonsense aside, don't you think? Your family--"

"You're no family of mine."

"Please," she scoffs loudly. "You sound like an angry child. And... oh, really, what kind of name is 'd'Avenir' even?"

"My name," Ezmerelda replies, perfectly matter-of-fact, and refuses to even entertain further discussion of the matter.

"I wonder how you'll do," Madame Radanavich smiles, but this time the threatening edge is obvious, pretense briefly abandoned, "all alone. Playing your little games of pretend with your make-believe name. You'll come crawling back to me yet."

Ezmerelda finds herself thinking of Erasmus, and almost believes she can see him, out of the corner of her eye. Tries not to think of what this confrontation might be bringing back for him. Thinks of the Martikovs welcoming her with open arms and offering shelter even in the darkest and dourest and most dangerous of days; thinks of Ireena with the sunsword and an entire wealth of feeling tangled in a tired, relieved smile somehow brighter than the blazing sunlight itself. Of nights around the fire in the camp outside Vallaki, and little Arabelle pulling on her coat, extorting promises of lessons in both swordfighting and divining. Of Arthur Sedgwick and his honest, caring eyes, and his patient instruction in properly using a flintlock, as his husband gleefully offers detailed scientific explanations of the weapon's workings from the side. She twists the ring on her finger.

"I'm not alone," Ezmerelda says simply, and feels resolute steel pouring back. She stops to consider her next words more carefully.

"I watched your actions and your curse destroy a good man's life. But I want you to know that you wanted to take from him, and in the end you took from me, the daughter you profess to care about so much. And now you crow at me about flesh and blood and expect me to, what? Beg you to let me come back? Back to what? A mouldy cell and as short a leash as the current master feels like giving you?"

"Bold words for one given to following an old wretch around like a sad pup, even as he keeps trying to kick you away," Radanavich sneers, then shifts back to sad pity in the blink of an eye. "Oh, yes, my dear, it's so very tragic... I've heard it all. Look at you - you're wasted on him."

"Oh?" Ezmerelda raises an eyebrow cooly, clamps down on the sting to her pride and the deliberate scrape against old wounds, and almost wanting to scream you are the reason he feared that daring to care about someone would be a death sentence for them. "And what would you prefer to be using me for?"

"How dare you! After all I've done for our family, while you throw your lot in with the man who killed your brother and imprisoned your mother!"

Ezmerelda feels suddenly tired, more than anything. "You know he did no such thing. And I've done very well for myself, despite you."

"Have you, now? What price have you paid for your... profession? What has it cost you already?"

"Nothing I wouldn't be ready to pay ten times over if it meant ensuring the safety of an innocent, or beating back those such as you. You still don't understand," Ezmerelda just smiles sadly, allowing only the slightest undercurrent of danger. "I'm neither lost, nor settling for anything, nor desperately grasping at a chance, nor tragically misguided. This is what I want. This-- this cause, this fight, this is exactly what I was meant to do. And I am very, very good at it."

"Oh, Ezmerelda, if excitement and adventure and glory is what you are after, I know of much that you could do! So many causes that your... talents... would be an excellent match for. You do have a certain reputation, and I know several highly influential actors who'd know exactly where to put your skills to use, no matter how they were acquired. You could do so well for yourself! Rise right to the top of the ranks in the blink of an eye, become truly great."

Ezmerelda shakes her head, and sighs, and moves to get up from the sad, solitary seat.

"Ezmerelda--"

She quickly turns towards the bars and leans in, baring her teeth and grinning widely. "I killed the devil Strahd," Ezmerelda smirks at the look of shock she gets in response. "I think your petty schemes are a little below me, don't you?"

She turns to leave, not waiting for a response. The guard leans back in his corner as she moves away from the bars, waving him off.

"Oh, do feel free to let your masters know," she tosses over her shoulder nonchalantly as she makes her way out. "Though I have to say I haven't really looked into whose lapdog you are nowadays."

Ezmerelda hears a frustrated growl behind her as the sickeningly sweet, pleasant mask falls for good. As the door slams shut behind her, she doesn't look back.

She lets the noise of the city drown out her thoughts as she slowly makes her way back to her wagon, more than ready to be on her way elsewhere. Until, after a while, a familiar voice comes swimming up through her mind.

'How do you feel?'

"I don't know," Ezmerelda murmurs, after a long silence. "Ask me tomorrow."

1.5. Notes on useful classification and categorisation

As she finishes rattling off the information she's gathered on a series of apparent annis hag encounters that van Richten asked her for, he looks-- well, 'impressed' is the only word Ezmerelda can think of to describe it.

In the ensuing moment of quiet, he takes off his spectacles, fidgets with them briefly, polishes off a smudge with his handkerchief. Then, he looks her right in the eye. "You, girl, are a veritable sponge."

Ezmerelda flashes him a smug smile, then remembers the other matter she wanted to bring to his attention. She clears her throat, and begins, with uncharacteristic hesitance. "I've also been looking into some... other things. Another way I can contribute, I think."

The only reply is a raised eyebrow, so Ezmerelda steels herself and decides to go forward with her planned demonstration. She quells the nervous fluttering in her stomach, and instead focuses on the points of her own fingers as they trace well-practiced patterns in the air. With a final flick and a quick mutter of the incantation she's quietly recited so, so many nights in her room when she was supposed to be asleep, the very air around her right hand shimmers with heat. A few tense moments later, a small mote of flame appears in her palm.

Ezmerelda bites back an exclamation of joy at the success, tries to keep her expression fairly neutral, and looks to van Richten expectantly.

His eyebrows are, very amusingly, trying to climb into his hairline. "Where in the world did you learn to do that?"

She lets the little flame dance between her hands, casually skip from one to the other, flickering giddily, and feels an odd sense of relief wash over her.

"I saw it in one of your books. Almost by accident, and it... it just made a lot of sense to me, even just skimming over it. So I thought, why not? If I could get a handle on a few of the spells, I could complement your arsenal quite well. Bring more to the fight."

Van Richten nods, but there is a wary undertone to his words. "As long as you aren't making any ill-advised deals and pacts - which, I'll remind you--"

"-- are all of them. I know. Don't worry. I'm only interested in things I can glean by myself."

"Well, I'm not much of an arcane practitioner, though I am quite familiar with a lot of theory. I'm afraid I won't be able to provide any elaborate training or instruction--"

"That's fine," Ezmerelda rushes to say. "I can continue like this. The research, the books - it's..."

She trails off, not quite knowing how and what to explain. Arcane magic is fascinating, surprisingly enjoyable, and strikes a deeply satisfying balance between being hard-won and feeling like it comes naturally to her.

It also feels... hers.

"It's very engaging material," she finishes after a little while. She moves to close her fist and extinguish the tiny fire, but something stops her at the very last moment.

"Indeed," van Richten replies simply, and gets up from his seat. "Well, I do need to go tend to the shop, but rest assured we will discuss the tactical applications of this later today."

Just as he is out the study door and about to start down the stairs, he pauses, and turns back to look at her, a bright and sincere smile on his face. "Very well done, Ezmerelda."

The flame flickers, ready to fly from her fingers, bursting with potential.

"Thank you," she murmurs long after he is gone.

---

It is deep nighttime when Ezmerelda shakes off the last tendrils of the Mists and sets eyes on the cliffs of Mordentshire. The wagon's wheels clatter over rain-slick cobblestones as she navigates the still-familiar streets of the seemingly unchanging harbour town. The cold sea wind makes her tighten her coat around herself, to very little avail.

She can't say she's missed the weather.

By the time she spies the sign neatly painted with the words Herbalist - Dr. Rudolph van Richten, she feels soaked through and entirely miserable, and spends only a moment giving the place a quick look-over.

The shop is in fine shape - if she didn't know better, Ezmerelda could easily believe its owner closed it up for the night and left just yesterday. The wolfsbane and garlic in the planters underneath each window are flourishing. She makes a mental note to make her first order of business in the morning calling in on the neighbors and discussing further arrangements with Mrs. Polk, in whose capable hands van Richten has been leaving things for years.

In the meantime, she fervently hopes for dry clothes and a workable fireplace.

A quick rummage between two bushy wolfsbane plants - the second and third one on the right - produces a spare key, and Ezmerelda remembers with mild amusement her shock at this mundane weakness in van Richten's usually impeccable and overthought defenses, years ago.

"Keys," he'd looked at her over the rim of his spectacles, "are hardly a problem for things that truly want to harm me."

The little bell chimes as she opens the door. Catching a glimpse of herself in the very precisely placed full-length mirror just opposite the entrance, she wastes no time before going upstairs. The second stair from the top creaks its old, familiar reassurance.

Ezmerelda enters the room that used to be hers, in between harrowing hunting trips and trying adventures, during her years training with van Richten. It doesn't seem to have changed much - nor does it seem to be in use as anything but spare storage space.

She does her best not to think about how empty and quiet the house is, or how she's never truly been alone in it. Instead, she hangs up her coat, rolls up her shirt sleeves, unpacks some of her things, and, by the time she gets a proper fire going, realises sleep is the very last thing she feels like doing. Her eyes alight on the small desk in the corner, and she instead decides to do something she hasn't in a while.

She sits down to write.

First, Ezmerelda takes off the ring and sets it aside, muttering a quick good night, Doctor under her breath. Then she takes out some of her collection, observations accumulated over the years - jotted down on everything from thick parchment to old wrapping paper. Combining it with the wealth of van Richten's remaining material and into something eventually coherent will no doubt be a challenge, but a challenge is not something Ezmerelda d'Avenir has ever shied away from.

It is just haphazard, quick notes on anything of consequence that comes to mind at first, carried by an odd nervous energy. A more systematic approach will have to come at some later point.

While knowledge is a key weapon in any hunter's arsenal, honing one's body as well as mind is absolutely necessary, she writes, tapping her foot on the wooden floor in a way that often drove van Richten to distraction. Many of the creatures of the night become, in their cursed states, inhumanly strong, and in such instances one must be particularly careful of engaging them in close quarters, for even the greatest strongman would be at a disadvantage.

However, not all of these encounters need be solved by violence. Many ghosts

She pauses, pen slowly dripping ink onto the half-filled page before her, and sees Erasmus out of the corner of her eye. She turns her head to face him, and for once in their long and unusual life-and-afterlife-spanning acquaintance, she finds she can't quite read him.

Many ghosts are held in their in-between existence due to unfinished business. Tethered to some regret or incomplete task from their mortal lives, they seek resolution and closure. Many hauntings can thus be resolved by investigation, and what I must term a primarily sympathetic approach. Of course, one must also always be wary and on the lookout for deliberately misguiding spectres who seek to play upon one's pity.

The first signs of dawn creep into the room by the time she has moved on from ghosts to wraiths to trying to sort out her notes about creatures that lurk underwater - old notes that have been, to her chagrin, very appropriately and unsalvageably waterlogged.

Ezmerelda manages to light another candle just before her current one sputters out, and rubs at her tired eyes. Then she pauses, gazing idly at the ink stains on her fingers.

She reaches over for a new page, setting her current work aside. There is something else she wants and needs to write, something other than dry facts or hopefully helpful guidelines. The first few sentences come in fits and starts, but soon enough she finds them flowing out of her pen almost of their own accord.

What I would like to make clear is that this is not an inherently bad place. The lands themselves can be beautiful - wondrous, even. Worth living in, and worth fighting for. And the people who live in them do not deserve to live in fear. I, and many others, could simply leave for some better, tamer prospects, yes - but then what? Nothing is gained if we merely surrender an entire world, a collection of lands so fantastically varied and so full of promise, to a cruel, merciless, hungry night. It can't all be abandoned as collateral damage in a great punishment intended for a horrible few. I can't, and won't, allow this to happen.

Maybe the foes are overwhelming, and the fight endless. But a life saved is a life saved. A victory is a victory. One innocent snatched away from a grim fate, one tendril of darkness beaten back - that is enough. But only if we persist at it, day after day after day. And evil may be impossible to ever completely destroy, but it is far weaker and less widespread than it could and doubtlessly wants to be, in at least some small part thanks to our continued efforts.

A dour prospect? Perhaps, for some. Ezmerelda smirks to herself, and gazes down at her veritable manifesto, and thinks back to that cell in Il Aluk.

What better life is there to lead? None, for her.

I, for one, don't intend to give up anytime soon. I hope that in you, dear reader, I can find one of like mind. And perhaps one day we shall find ourselves standing together.

She lights another candle, and continues.

1.6. Conclusions and remarks on future work

She clenches her hands as she steps into the sitting room that morning, decisions made after a long, sleepless night of contemplation. As if fate is conspiring against her, the first thing she sees is Erasmus, hovering over his father's shoulder. He turns to face her as soon as he notices her, a bright smile he saves just for her on his pale, ghostly face. She knows what a struggle it is for him to manifest this way, how much it takes out of him. The thought of his precious few minutes today being this...

It takes immense effort to speak up, interrupting van Richten's apparent focus on the post strewn about the table in front of him.

"I think... I think it's time for me to go."

"Go? Where?" He blinks, looking up from his papers.

Ezmerelda swallows, but hesitates only for a moment. "I don't know," she answers, chin tilted up, almost proud. "But I know we can't go on like this. I don't want to go on like this."

They butt heads and scrape against each other constantly. Chafe and grate and, and, and. She can't remember the last time they agreed on even the most cursory thing. It has reached a level where she fears his presence will become intolerable, and anything binding the two of them together become irreparably soured and tainted.

She refuses to allow this to happen.

Erasmus has drawn a coin. Two sides. He indulges in a small, semi-teasing pantomime, pointing at the two of them as his shimmering, ectoplasmic drawings hover briefly before vanishing like so much smoke, and Ezmerelda shakes her head sadly.

"I don't want to come to resent you, that is all. I don't think I could bear it if I did."

"If you think it for the best, by all means," van Richten says simply, and leaves it at that. He never turns to fully look at her. There is an undercurrent to his voice Ezmerelda can't quite place - something deeply tired, and far more complicated than plain sadness.

It rains heavily that morning as she sets off, as if the world itself wants her to rethink this. The muddy road squelches almost threateningly under her horse's hooves as she leads him forward.

Van Richten doesn't come out to see her off.

"I'll miss you," she breathes to herself, and half-hopes it somehow reaches both of the companions she is leaving behind. But she has only the rain and her horse's steady trot on the trail for company.

It is quiet.

---

Finally, the familiar mists of Darkon, and the countryside of Rivalis, lie before them. The inevitable, at a familiar estate fallen into quite a state of disrepair.

'No, leave it be,' van Richten said, at her hesitantly presented idea of including returning Richten House to at least some of its former glory on their list of unfinished business and loose ends.

Still, this is where he wanted to come. At the end.

Ezmerelda never saw it in its prime. She was a mere child then, kept well away from her family's machinations. Until she was (inevitably, irrevocably) drawn in, her fate forever entangled with that of the van Richten family. But even now, in all its disrepair, rich traces of what the gardens, the orchard, and the house itself used to be permeate the atmosphere, like ghosts themselves.

She walks across the hills of the grounds, all the way around the mansion to the family cemetery. She slows as she moves up to the two most recent graves, so easy to find, and thinks, briefly, of the body van Richten insisted on being burned before they left Barovia, just in case.

Just in case, she agreed, knowing all he knew about what foul magic and foul intentions could do to physical remains in the wrong hands, and built him a pyre.

The headstones before her are simple but elegant, as is the tidily engraved lettering on them.

Ingrid van Richten

Erasmus van Richten

'Well, here we are.' For a disembodied voice softly projecting into her mind, almost as through a mild haze or over some great distance, it is one of the heaviest things Ezmerelda has ever heard.

'A few words, if I may,' van Richten's request comes, gentle, and she nods, finding herself oddly wordless.

'I am so proud of you,' he begins, and the ferocity of it almost startles her. 'I hope you know this, always. If I have ever made you doubt this, as I pushed you away - I am sorry. I regret many things in my life, as one does, no matter what I like to say - but most of all I regret that I didn't tell you this sooner.

You are the best of my life. But more than that, you have grown far beyond me, into a finer person than most could dream of being. And I am sorry I wasn't there for you, that you had to do so much of it on your own. But know that when I see you... I couldn't be happier, or more in awe.'

There is a very brief pause, and then the voice softens again.

'I love you as my own, and am deeply honoured you would consider me, and that I get to consider you, family.'

Ezmerelda swallows once, twice, struggles, then finally lets her tears fall freely.

'Look at you. You don't need me anymore. And I can only hope your legend will far surpass anything I have ever done - there is so much ahead of you! Your light stands so very bright against the darkness. But I am glad, so very glad - selfishly, perhaps - that we were there together, at the end.'

"So am I," she manages a whisper. "Love you too, old man."

'Now I suppose it is time for me to go.'

Erasmus looks at her, bittersweet pouring from him in waves, and he gives a small nod. His form flickers, and then disappears, and Ezmerelda knows she will never see him again.

She knows how the ring works, too. The soul within it can choose to depart whenever it wants to. She knows she doesn't need to do anything - that she couldn't, even if she wanted to. It brings with it a strange sort of peace.

Ezmerelda inclines her head. "I hope you see them soon." Tell Erasmus I'll miss him, she wishes she could say.

She spins the now-inert ring around on her finger, a habit she will need to break. She wants to tear it off, and throw it as far away from herself as she can. She wants to never take it off as long as she lives.

A soft rain starts up, and Ezmerelda feels oddly grateful for the feel of it on her face, even as she knows there is no one here but her.

It is quiet.

---

With gratitude to the notes and tutelage of the esteemed Dr. Rudolph van Richten, whose guidance and wealth of knowledge have proved invaluable on countless occasions, and whose friendship changed the course of my life more than once.

#ezmerelda d'avenir #rudolph van richten #curse of strahd #dnd #dungeons and dragons #fanfiction #my fic #oathkeeper writes things #erasmus van richten #ravenloft #gonna take my horse to the old svalich road #tabletop

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