#spoiler it’s usually dead organisms | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

atlabeth · 2 years ago

Text

come on back to me - nikolai lantsov

summary: five times you save nikolai and one time he saves you.

a/n: if you've seen my thoughts as i read through siege and storm and ruin and rising then you know that i am deeply in love with nikolai lantsov and since ive finally finished the trilogy i finally feel qualified to write about him lmao. i actually don’t think i’ve written a 5+1 which is crazy so here you go. i wrote this in like 2 days in a spurt of inspiration and im absolutely in love with it, so i hope you all are too!!

title from you’re the one by greta van fleet

wc: 7.3k

warning(s): fem!reader, canon typical violence, siege and storm & ruin and rising book spoilers (i have not watched the show), medical inaccuracies, nikolai's volcra era, hurt/comfort and a happy ending (as usual)

Os Alta

It all happened rather quickly.

One moment, you were in the infirmary mending a poor soldier’s broken arm. The next, screams were erupting everywhere.

You and the soldier locked eyes, and you did a final bit of healing on his arm before you nodded at each other and darted off.

The soldier grabbed his gun and went further into the palace, no doubt to find the royal family, and you adjusted the collar of your kefta before you ran out into the fray.

Nichevo’ya had surrounded everything, attacking anyone they could find, and their shadowy bodies were like a void’s blight on the land. You knew the sight would be forever burned into your mind.

You knew the Darkling was going to march on Os Alta, that he would have to do it directly to use his shadow soldiers, but this was so much earlier, so much worse than you’d expected. Enforcements were meant to come from Poliznaya. You guessed that was off the table.

You were fine at fighting—alright with a pistol and better with a dagger—but you were a Healer. You spent more time dealing with the aftermaths of battles, more skilled at setting broken bones and mending bullet wounds than inflicting them.

Times like these were the ones when you normally questioned your decision to not hone your abilities into a Heartrender, but now you would at least be a dead man either way. Nichevo’ya didn’t exactly have hearts to stop and organs to manipulate.

You had to get to the other Grisha. You had to make sure the Sun Summoner made it through this attack, even if it meant you wouldn’t.

You broke into a sprint, trying your best to ignore the crippled and broken bodies in the carnage. Your instincts tugged against you, but you knew there was nothing to be done. If you stopped to help a dead man, you would soon join them.

You nearly battered into a group of people from your speed and lack of attention, and you reeled to the side seconds before a head-on collision. When you looked up, drawing in ragged breaths in the one second of rest you’d gotten, your eyes widened.

You were face to face with the royal family. The King, the Queen, and Nikolai Lantsov. The absence was glaring.

“Grisha,” Nikolai breathed, and he grabbed onto your shoulders like a madman as his fingers ran over the embroidery. He might as well have been one, the way wildfire flickered in his eyes. “You’re a Healer? One of Alina’s?”

You nodded rapidly. “Are you—”

“I’m getting them to safety on the Kingfisher,” he cut off, “and she wants me to get that old woman as well.”

“Baghra—?”

“You’re a Healer?” the King interrupted harshly. Your heart stuttered—you’d never been directly addressed by the King, but you supposed circumstances like these called for different standards.

“Yes,” you nodded. “Are you hurt?”

“My wife,” he said, and your attention turned to the Queen. Genya’s absence had taken a toll on her, and the shards of glass sticking out of her side weren’t doing her pallid frame any favors.

“Madraya,” Nikolai whispered, his eyes wide, “I didn’t even notice.”

“Alexander—” her voice was ragged, her entire appearance pallid— “we’ve much bigger concerns.”

“Nonsense.” The King’s gaze bore into you. “We have time. Heal her.”

You screwed your eyes shut, your hands closing into fists for a moment before both opened and you nodded. “Keep an eye out, moi tsarevich,” you huffed, and you moved to the Queen’s side. Nikolai’s head perked up for a moment at your words, but it disappeared just as quickly as he adjusted his grip on his pistol.

“Of course,” he said wryly. “Not that I don’t trust your work, and not that I don’t trust my abilities, but it would be grand if you could do this quickly.”

“Working as fast as I can,” you muttered, ignoring the noises the Queen made as you pulled the shards of glass out with little care. Your mentors would be rolling in their graves if they could see you.

“Vasily is dead, by the way,” Nikolai said, attention focused on the nichevo’ya all around. Thankfully, you’d run into each other in a spot relatively hidden from view. Hopefully it extended to shadow creatures. “I know you were wondering.”

Your hands faltered for a moment, but it was hardly noticeable as you continued to work. He wasn’t wrong. “I’m so sorry.”

The Queen choked back a sob, and the King’s face betrayed the slightest bit of emotion.

“An awful way to go,” Nikolai muttered, more to himself than anything. “But fitting that he brought about his own end.”

His parents said nothing to your surprise, but you stood up from your knees and nodded at the King and Queen. “She’s healed enough. No internal bleeding, at least.”

“Healed enough?” the King repeated. “That is not—”

“It’s the best we can hope for,” Nikolai interrupted sharply. “We’ve already wasted too much time out here.”

He then nodded, grasping your hands with fierce desperation. “The crown thanks you, darling.” You’d never seen him like this—you’d never seen him fear anything. The Darkling and his creations were a good start. “I thank you, truly.”

“Just doing my duty,” you assured, and you pulled a small container out of the pocket of your kefta, leftover from your work in the infirmary before it all went to hell, and pressed it into his hand. “She should be alright, but I’ve been slightly rushed. Rub this salve on her wounds when you’re out of danger just to be sure.”

Nikolai nodded again, slipping it into his own pocket. “Keep our Sun Summoner safe,” he said. “Or else this’ll have all been for nothing.”

You nodded. “With my life.”

Nikolai’s eyes met yours, and something unsaid passed between you. Then his hands slipped off of yours, and he continued to herd his parents away from the chaos. You muttered a quick prayer to any Saints that would listen for their safety, and then you head off on your own way.

2. The Pelican

You thought either the bones in your hands or the wood was going to crack with how tight you were holding onto the side of the ship. Your heart was still hammering away in your chest—the adrenaline from the battle and Nikolai Lantsov’s sudden appearance and being shot at a thousand different times by a thousand different militiamen still had you quite shaken.

You knew the sort of chaos you were in for when you made the decision to travel with Alina Starkov rather than stay in the White Cathedral, but you think you hated being in the air like this even more than you hated being trapped underground with those zealots.

Someone called your name, and you turned to see Adrik a while away with wide eyes. You huffed a sigh as you reluctantly let go and hastened your pace to catch up with him. If he was sent to fetch you, then someone needed healing, and you couldn’t exactly hold off on the one thing you were good at.

Adrik led you over to a corner of the Pelican where a large portion of your group of Grisha were gathered. Tamar was kneeling next to whoever was injured, one hand splayed above their chest, and you took a deep breath as you forced calmness to wash over your mind.

“What are we dealing with?” you asked Tamar, but it was clear enough when he spoke up.

“I’m telling you, it’s fine,” he insisted. “Just a flesh wound.”

“He was shot,” Tamar said dryly, “and he refuses to accept its severity.”

“So we meet again,” you said placidly.

Nikolai seemed to perk up when he saw you, any prior frustration absent from his face as he grinned at you and said your name. “If you’re the Healer here, then I guess I’m not so fine.”

“Am I ever going to be around you when you’re doing important princely things,” you said as you crouched on the other side of him, Tamar continuing to keep his heart rate steady, “or only when you’re injured?”

“This is a very important princely thing,” Nikolai said. “I’m showing my soon to be subjects that I’m just like them.”

“You were shot and you thought you were fine?” You let out a loose sigh and shook your head—it wasn’t worth getting into it. “Keep it steady, Tamar.”

She nodded, and you reached out to begin unbuttoning his outer coat. He wouldn’t stop shifting around, and it made it infinitely harder.

“Will you sit still?” you snapped.

“I am,” Nikolai said.

“You are not,” you asserted, and you undid the final button on his coat after a struggle, “and you are making this much more difficult.”

“My apologies,” he said. “Usually women that are taking off my clothes aren’t this angry with me.”

You scowled, only making his smile grow.

“You do it yourself if you want to be like that,” you said, letting your hands fall back to your side. “I’m sure the rest of your soldiers will listen to a Healer.”

“Ah, but none of them bravely threw themselves into danger for you,” Nikolai remarked. “I’m sure that earns me a few points.”

“Points that you’ve immediately lost by being this difficult with me.” You crossed your arms. “And you did not throw yourself into danger for me—you were in the battle and you got shot.”

“We came to save you all, and you are a part of it,” Nikolai said. “I’d say I definitely threw myself into danger for you.”

“You’re impossible.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Will you not even allow a dying man some honor?”

“You are not dying,” you said, “but you will be if you continue talking. Now take off your clothes and stop being so difficult so I can fix this up before you do die.”

He tutted as he shed his jacket and worked on the rest of his clothing. Princes were apparently fond of multiple layers. “For a Healer, your bedside manner is remarkably poor.”

“Don’t worry,” Nadia piped in, “she’s always been like this.”

“I have very fond memories of you healing my broken ribs,” Alina said dryly.

“All of you are still alive,” you said tartly with a glance back at your fellow Grisha, “aren’t you?”

“I think you made me wish I wasn’t,” Harshaw mused.

You scowled again and Nikolai laughed. “That bodes very well for me, considering how much I seem to irritate you.”

“You’re going to be fine,” you grumbled. When you turned back to him, he’d gotten down to his undershirt and unbuttoned it. Blood had spread across the white fabric, but apart from being shot, the wound wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. It’d had the chance to fester for a bit, but with Tamar’s aid it hopefully wouldn’t be a problem.

You took a deep breath as you placed your hands on his chest—lucky as always, you could sense the bullet missed all his major organs—but Nikolai grimaced before you could even do anything.

“Are you alright?”

“Your hands are very cold,” he said and you just shook your head.

“How no one has wrung you by the neck is beyond me.”

“Many have tried.” He flashed that smile again. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t add your name to the list.”

You ignored him, taking another deep breath before you closed your eyes. You felt your power within you, the tug you’d grown accustomed to over the years, and you focused it into a single point.

You slowly worked on healing Nikolai, making sure you went from the inside out to stop any internal bleeding before you carefully wedged the bullet out with your knife. Surprisingly, he managed to keep his mouth shut for the most part. He watched you the entire time though, wholly unyielding, and it was unnerving.

Nikolai covered up his pain remarkably well, but you still caught the slightest grimace when you practically stuck a dagger inside him.

“Do you always try to injure your patients more when you’re healing them?” he asked innocently.

“You typically don’t make fun of the person fixing you up,” you said, and you held up the knife, “or the one holding the blade.”

“Surely you could’ve used David to get it out,” Zoya offered lazily. “Better than practically stabbing the King of Ravka.”

“I’m not the king,” Nikolai said. “Not yet, at least.”

“And I’m not stabbing him.” You held up the bullet with your other hand, then let it fall to the floor. “I just didn’t feel like digging around inside him.”

Nikolai picked up the bullet, and you frowned in question. He just shrugged. “To hold onto the fond memories of this battle and the kindest, prettiest Healer I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Someone snickered behind you, and you turned to see all of them just standing around—Zoya, Harshaw with Oncat perched on his shoulder, Adrik ignoring his sister to watch, even Alina and Mal were still there. At least Tamar had enough sense to stay quiet while she helped you.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you snapped. “It’s hard to focus with you all watching me.”

Alina blinked, seeming to come back to her senses. You almost didn’t blame her—she had so much on her shoulders, it made sense to just want to stand and stare for a minute.

“Right,” she nodded, and she gestured at Zoya and the Squaller siblings as she started walking across the ship, “Adrik, Nadia, I need you all over…”

Alina's words trailed off as she got farther away, and the small crowd dissipated to find duties to carry out without their Sun Summoner to indulge their whims.

“Thank you for your help, Tamar,” you mumbled. “I can take it from here.”

She nodded and went off to join the others—the controlled state Nikolai had been in dissolved as she let go of the hold she had on his heart, and the slight daze in his eye went away.

“Are you always this mean?” Nikolai asked. You turned back to find him with that same unshakable confidence, same lazy smile even in the face of it all. It was no wonder noble and commoner girls alike tripped over themselves when he returned to Ravka.

It was no wonder Alina fell for his charms despite the tracker by her side—he always knew the right thing to say to make you feel like everything would be okay, and in the midst of Ravka’s endless war, that was a valuable quality indeed.

“I save it for irritating princes,” you remarked. With a final flourish, his wound was sewed up, and Nikolai raised his eyebrows as he touched the newly healed skin.

There was another slight wince, but he still smiled up at you. “Excellent job.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you said.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to Grisha handiwork,” Nikolai said as he pulled himself up from the side of the ship. “Especially the healing kind.”

“It would do you good not to get used to it,” you said. “You may not be king yet, but Zoya is right. I’d appreciate it if you tried to stay out of my infirmary.”

“Do you not enjoy my company?” he asked.

“I don’t enjoy bringing Ravka’s only heir back from the brink after every battle,” you corrected. “You’ve got a lot more weight on your shoulders now, moi tsarevich.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly at your Ravkan. “Say that again.”

You frowned, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. Nikolai continued staring at you, so you sighed. “Moi tsarevich?”

He laughed, and that only soured your mood further. “What are you laughing about?”

“I recognized it back during the attack but I didn’t fully think about it,” he said. “It comes out the most with your R’s. You’re not Ravkan, are you?”

You paused at his sudden subject change. “You were focusing on my accent when everyone was dying around us?”

“Answer the question.”

Your frown deepened. “I am in most senses of the word.”

Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. “You’re Kerch.”

Your lips twitched. “Yes, but I don’t—”

“You still haven’t lost the accent somehow,” he continued. “At least, in how you speak certain Ravkan words. Is it Ketterdam?”

“Don’t you have better things to do than quiz your Healer on her childhood?”

“Perhaps,” Nikolai said, eyes twinkling, “but if you’re really my Healer, as you said yourself, I’m surely allowed to ask as many questions as my heart desires.”

“Your heart desires no more,” you said wryly. “I have other injured to attend to. Call if you find yourself actively dying.”

To his credit, he didn’t try to fight it. Just offered that same smile that weakened knees from the Kaelish to the Shu. “I’ll be sure to ring before I’m dead and buried.”

“Put your clothes back on before you do,” you said.

“Ah, but isn’t this your reward for putting up with the irritating prince?” Nikolai asked with a slight gesture at his chest. “I’d imagine you’d want to keep an eye on your handiwork.”

That sparked a rare smile of your own, and you bowed your head. “Moi tsarevich,” you said before you walked off.

You felt Nikolai’s eyes on you even as you approached an injured First Army soldier, and after the first few preliminary questions you couldn’t help but look back.

When you did, he was gone.

3. Monastery of Sankt Demyan

You sat on the Spinning Wheel, off to the corner so you wouldn’t be disturbing anyone, staring at your hands as you tried to ignore the thousands of things bumping around in your mind. You’d been on the run with the Sun Summoner and a smattering of other Grisha for longer than you would have liked, but you had to accept that this was what life would be like until the Darkling was either defeated or destroyed you all.

It was a damning sort of fate, knowing what awaited you unless the impossible was done. At least it would be quick if the nichevo’ya tore you apart.

You grimaced. That was one thought that would do you no good—if you’d made it this far, from Os Alta under the Darkling’s control to Os Alta under Lantsov control to the White Cathedral and now to Fjerda of all places, what was one more piece of the puzzle?

A very big piece of the puzzle, of course, and there was still the intrinsic distrust that some soldiers—and even Alina at moments, flickers of it you could see in her eyes against her will—had towards you. You, like the rest of the Grisha here that hailed from the Second Army, served the Darkling until you’d switched sides. You wanted nothing more than to see the Darkling to his grave, for Ravka to be restored and for all of this to be over.

But you had switched sides in the first place, and you knew enough from the looks of those soldiers—they still believed that if you could betray the Darkling, you could always still betray the Sun Summoner if given enough cause.

You didn’t try to dissuade their views through words; it wouldn’t do any good. You just hoped the long hours you spent holed up in the infirmary healing the injured would. You missed Maxim if only so you wouldn’t have to do it all alone.

“Vlachka for your thoughts?”

You looked up, surprised to see Nikolai Lantsov of all people. You hadn’t held a true conversation with him since you healed him after his bullet wound. He’d been busy with princely things like banishing his parents and saving Genya’s livelihood.

You were thankful for that, at least. She’d suffered too much at the hands of the Darkling and the King.

“You’d need a lot more than that,” you said.

He smiled. “I’ve got quite a bit. Have you seen this place?”

You chuckled and shrugged. “Just thinking. About our next move, about the Darkling, about what will be after this.”

“You certainly aren’t the only one,” Nikolai said. “Lately it seems to be all anyone can think about.”

“I’m sure you’d much rather have them thinking of you,” you said wryly.

“Oh, there’s plenty of that going on as well.” Nikolai smiled. “An even balance, I’d say.”

You chuckled again. “What brings you here, Nikolai?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to get to know my Healer.”

You huffed a sigh and looked away. “Why do you call me that?”

He was awfully good at feigning innocence. “Call you what?”

“My Healer,” you repeated. “Your Healer. I don’t understand it.”

“I like the sound of it,” he said. “I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”

You felt your cheeks heat and you felt his eyes on you. “It’s not that. It’s just—”

“Because I can,” he continued. “Would you prefer lapushka? Milaya? Perhaps babya.”

You scowled as you turned back to him, and you hit him lightly on the shoulder. “You should stick to the seas and the throne, moi tsarevich. Comedy is not your strong suit.”

“I like it when you call me that,” he mused. “I like your accent, your voice.” He sat down next to you, mildly unexpected, and you hoped you did better at hiding your surprise than it felt. “There’s something soothing about it.”

“I am from Ketterdam,” you said after a moment. “You guessed right. Born and raised. When my abilities started showing, my parents put me on a ship to Ravka with a map, some vlachki, and the clothes on my back. I made my way to the Little Palace, pleaded my case to the Darkling, and I haven’t seen them since.”

Nikolai was silent, and you fully turned to look at him. “You wanted to know more about me. That’s who I am. A girl from Ketterdam in over her head.”

“Give yourself some credit,” Nikolai said. “You’re a woman from Ketterdam in over your head.”

You huffed a laugh, and Nikolai’s expression softened a bit. “Why did they send you away? If that’s alright to ask, of course.”

You shrugged. “Being a young girl in the Barrel is bad enough. If anyone figured out I was Grisha, I would either be dead in the streets, indentured before I could blink, or worse.”

“They thought it would be safer in Ravka,” he guessed. “In the Second Army.”

You nodded. “They couldn’t have known any of this would happen,” you said dryly.

“Do you miss your parents?” he asked.

“Every day,” you said quietly. “We sent letters when we could, but it was never enough. And those stopped after Alina left the Little Palace, obviously.”

You didn’t need to recount the months of the Darkling’s madness as he searched for his Sun Summoner. Nikolai might have been Sturmhond at the time, but you didn’t doubt that he had contacts in the Little Palace. You didn’t exactly want to remember it either.

“How about this?” Nikolai adjusted his position so he could look right at you, those smart hazel eyes enough to get lost in. You forced yourself not to. “On the slim chance that we make it through these next few weeks, when the dust has settled and I’m officially King, I’ll charter a ship for you back to Ketterdam.”

Your head whirled back to look at him, eyes widening. There was no sign in his eyes of a false promise, only that soft smile, charming as ever. You had the sudden, misplaced urge to wind your fingers into those blonde curls and kiss him.

“You’d do that for me?”

He nodded. “Of course. Only the best for my Healer, right?”

That got a laugh out of you, but the heat rose to your cheeks all the same. “That would be incredible, Nikolai. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

He looked—gazed— at you for a touch longer than usual before he spoke again.

“There’s going to be a meteor shower later tonight,” Nikolai said. “One of my crew figured it out—he’s very fond of the sky, and he told me it would be… quite the sight.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Was he—

“I’d like to watch it with you,” Nikolai continued. “Of course, I have to put on a display with Alina, but after that,” he looked over at you, hazel eyes gleaming, “I’d like to spend the night with you.”

It took a moment for your brain to fully process his words. “Moi tsarevich, are… you asking me on a— a date?”

“Just Nikolai, please,” he said with a grin. “And yes, I am.”

It seemed so trivial in the scheme of things. You were leading an impossible battle against the Darkling, and as a traitor to his throne, you would end up dead or worse if he caught you. The near entirety of the Second Army was dead, friends you’d grown up and honed your power alongside with ripped apart by nichevo’ya. Your chances for victory relied on the firebird, and no one knew a damn thing about it.

It was trivial. It was frankly ridiculous, for the prince— the King of Ravka—to be asking you on a date, especially when it was imperative for him to present a certain image with Alina.

But for all the triviality and ridiculousness and idiocy, you found that you’d never wanted to accept something so badly.

So you did. You nodded, smiled, brighter than usual. Nikolai seemed to have that effect on you.

“I’d love to.”

“Wonderful.” Somehow, impossibly, his grin grew bigger. Nikolai took your hand and pressed a delicate kiss to it before he stood back up—you’d never been so thankful for his confidence, because you found yourself at a loss for words. “I’ll see you tonight, darling. Try not to get into too much trouble without me.”

You nodded again, and you knew you looked like a dazed idiot. The better half of a decade spent training as a Grisha and all it took was a kiss to your hand for your brain to stop working. You really had been at war for far too long.

Nikolai could tell every thought—or lack thereof—in your head by the overly pleased expression he wore as he walked away, and your entire face burned as you bit back your smile.

He knew exactly what he did to you.

4. The Bittern

Sergei sold you out.

That son of bitch had betrayed you all to the Darkling the first chance he got, and he’d been rewarded with a quicker death than any of you would get.

You’d been left fighting for your lives against the Darkling’s oprichniki, Grisha, and nichevo’ya alike, and as usual, you were hopelessly outnumbered. You knelt over Adrik as Zoya, Nadia, Harshaw, and David kept the crowd of enemies back, doing your damnedest to keep him from bleeding out from his nichevo’ya bite.

His arm hung at a bizarre angle, and you didn’t know how you would tell him and his sister you didn’t think you could save it. You were sure Genya’s whispered words were the only thing keeping him even slightly calm.

By the time the Bittern was in the air, precarious but afloat, you were about ready to collapse. It had all been too damn much, with the Darkling and Baghra and Nevsky, and now the poor schoolboy lying beneath you with an arm you couldn’t save.

“He’ll be okay,” you murmured to nobody but yourself, wiping beads of sweat from your forehead as you laid against the side of the ship. As okay as any boy who lost his arm to a shadow monster and went through what he just did.

Thank the Saints for Tolya keeping both Adrik’s and your heart steady during that ordeal, because you were sure your panic would have won over.

Everyone in your motley crew was injured in some way or another, and you were the only Healer. Soon you were back on your feet, pushing the horrors of the night out of your mind as you mended lacerations and fixed up bullet wounds.

Every so often, your eyes would drift over to Adrik. You’d healed him the best you could, but it wasn’t enough.

And then your mind went to Nikolai.

Nikolai.

In the chaos of the battle and the subsequent healing haze, you hadn’t even realized he wasn’t with your group. The Pelican had taken off before you all got to the Bittern, but Nikolai wouldn’t have left Alina on her own after all he’d done to ensure her safety.

You were almost too scared to ask, but you did anyway.

“Alina,” you asked, slightly surprised at the sound of your voice in the silence of the night, “where’s Nikolai?”

Her eyes were unfocused, arms crossed around her midsection for warmth despite the light that glowed beneath her skin. “The Darkling,” she murmured.

“Wh— what did he do to him?” you continued. “What in the Saints’ name happened to him, Alina?”

“He ruined him,” she whispered. “He turned him into a monster.” The look on Alina’s face broke you into even smaller pieces. “He turned him into a monster all because Nikolai dared to stand against him. He’s gone.”

Your grip tightened on the side of the ship as she explained what she had to watch, and your knees threatened to buckle.

Maybe it was stupid, but you hadn’t even realized you cared this much about the prince. The king, you had to keep reminding yourself. But the thought of him hurt—a hurt that you couldn’t heal—it tore your heart to shreds.

Only last night you were laying on a blanket next to him, staring up at the meteor shower through the glass dome. He’d never looked more beautiful than he did then, with the streaks of light illuminating his handsome features and those hazel eyes you’d grown to appreciate.

Few words had passed between the two of you, but once Nikolai had taken your hand in his, neither of you let go for the remainder of the night. That urge to kiss him came back in spades, but you never acted on it.

Saints, you wished you had.

“Do you think you can heal him?” Your voice sounded oddly foreign, but you didn’t even feel like you were in your body. Like you were watching it all happen from above, because this couldn’t have been happening. Not to Nikolai— to your Nikolai.

You were his Healer, and he was your Nikolai. That was how it was supposed to be.

“I don’t know,” Alina admitted, her tone strained. “My light might be able to help, but… but whenever I’ve used it against the nichevo’ya, against the volcra, I— it kills them.”

Her voice broke on the last few words, and you wanted to hug her. Alina didn’t love him, you knew that much, but anyone could tell she’d grown close to Nikolai over the months. She was hurting just as much as you.

You didn’t. You found that you couldn’t do much but stare into the night sky.

He was all alone. Forced into a monster, and now he was all alone.

It felt like ages before the Bittern finally landed, everyone’s teeth stained rust-orange and bones run deep with exhaustion. Everyone was still alive when you woke up the next morning, and after another check-up on Adrik, you went off into the woods under the guise of searching for kindling.

Really, you needed some time to yourself. After what had happened—Sergei’s betrayal, losing even more Grisha when you had little to start with, Baghra’s sacrifice, Adrik and his arm, and— and Nikolai—

It was too much. It was just too damn much.

You’d never gotten close like this to anyone before, never moved further than some useless flirtations and a few stolen kisses with various Grisha when you were bored back at the Little Palace, and when you finally did, with the damned future King of Ravka, this is what happened.

Guilt tore away at you as you plodded through the woods, and you let the tears you’d been holding back all night fall. You wished you’d been there for him. You wished you’d kissed him. You wished you were strong enough to take the Darkling down on your own for what he’d done.

The hairs stood up on the back of your neck, and you heard the rustling of branches. You whirled around to the source of the sound, taking a few steps to peer through the trees, and that was when you saw it.

Your eyes widened and your heart cracked all at once.

“Nikolai,” you whispered.

You’d have recognized him anywhere. Despite the shadowy veins splintering across his chest, the wings furled behind his back, claws and fangs in place of fingers and teeth—he was still your Nikolai. His blonde curls remained, his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, even his clever eyes—even if they were black instead of hazel.

The smear of blood around his mouth was a sharp contrast to it all. You wondered what—or who—had become his unlucky victim when he could no longer control his hunger.

Nikolai didn’t move as you stepped closer. His dark gaze was unreadable and you wanted to sob for what the Darkling had done to him.

“It’s me.” You continued to speak softly as you moved closer, saying your name in hopes of even a spark of recognition. “Your Healer.”

His eyes followed your movements, his gaze falling down to your hands. He pointed at them with a clawed talon.

You held them up. “My hands?”

You realized the blood around his mouth wasn’t the only bit of it on his body as your eyes trailed across his bare chest. There were cuts all across his arms and chest, most small but some deeper. He pointed at a thin scar near his abdomen, the only sign of the bullet wound you’d stitched up.

He wanted you to heal him. He knew who you were.

This time, a small sob escaped you, and your hand flew up almost on instinct to cover it. You brushed the tears brimming in your eyes as you moved closer to him, and you gently placed your hand on his arm. You felt his limb stiffen for a moment before they relaxed, and you couldn’t help your small smile. Your Nikolai was still there.

The thin cut vanished as you healed it, and you continued to do the same for the myriad of other injuries on his body. You felt his gaze on you the entire time, and some part of it was comforting. Nikolai was still there—his humanity was still there. This was the least you could do to make him feel the part.

Once you’d healed up the last of his wounds, you felt the glow of Grisha power inside of you. Nikolai grabbed onto your hand the moment you’d finished, and you looked up into his dark eyes as your fingers clasped around his talons.

“We’ll figure this out, Nikolai,” you whispered. “I promise.”

The corner of his lips curled up ever so slightly, the barest sign of the old smile you’d grown to love.

And then he let go of your hand, and he shot up into the air. It took only seconds for him to disappear, but your gaze remained stuck in place.

All you could think of was Nikolai’s dark eyes and the shattered shadows beneath his skin, the feel of his taloned hand in yours.

You would find a way to bring him back. You knew that much.

5. The Shadow Fold

“For Saint’s sake— catch him, Zoya!”

“You screeching at me isn’t helping,” she snarled, her hands held out above her as she summoned wind to break Nikolai’s fall.

It was almost laughable, how Alina ended it all with a bit of stabbing. First Mal, then the Darkling—now Soldat Sol and oprichniki alike were glowing like human lamps around the Fold. The nichevo’ya dissolved with the Darkling’s power, the same thing that created Nikolai’s monster—you screamed in general when you first saw him falling, and then you screamed at Zoya. It was a credit to her growth that she didn’t slap you first.

Thankfully, the updraft did its job, and he only landed in the sand at concerning speeds rather than very concerning.

You ran for him without thinking, not even feeling the jolt in your ankles as you lept from the skiff onto the sands. You no longer had to fear the Fold—the various Sun Soldiers that had gotten Alina’s powers had done away with the remainder in no time—and even if you did, you would brave a thousand volcra for Nikolai.

He looked so small, so vulnerable laying there in the sand, only clad in torn pants and a myriad of bruises. The last of the shadows receded when you finally reached him, and you didn’t try to stop the tears as they flowed freely down your cheeks.

“Nikolai,” you whispered, falling to your knees in the sand next to him, “Nikolai, can you hear me?”

You cradled his head in your hands, tears splattering in the sand around you, and then his eyes opened.

His beautiful hazel eyes opened and looked right at you, his lips tugging into a smirk as he said your name.

“Would you say this is an important princely thing?” His voice was husky, damaged from whatever dark thing that had taken a hold of him, but the usual lilt was there. “Or just another injury?”

You broke into full on sobs, unabashedly and unashamed as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a hug. You felt his arms around you as well, and he rubbed circles on your back.

“I had time to think,” Nikolai murmured, “and I think I’ll settle on lapushka.”

Darling.

You couldn’t help but laugh, and you moved away from him just so you could look at him, gaze at him, never forget his beautiful features.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I knew I would be,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I had you looking out for me.”

“Stop,” you said, your voice watery. “I can’t keep crying in front of you.”

“I think you’ve more than earned it, lapushka.”

You laughed again as you shook your head. “How do you feel? Can you still move all your limbs?”

Nikolai took his hand in yours, fingers intertwining with yours. His gaze didn’t move from you. “Limbs are fine.”

You let your smile shine unabashed as you squeezed his hand, thankful for the lack of talons. “Can you sit up?”

Nikolai visibly winced at the effort, but he managed with your help. “My chest hurts quite a bit.”

“You’ve definitely broken some ribs,” you murmured, “but it’s nothing I can’t fix up.”

“There’s nothing you can’t fix,” Nikolai said.

“Careful with all the praise. I might get used to it.”

“Good.”

You glanced over to see Tolya and Zoya moving across the sand towards you and you looked back at Nikolai.

“We’re going to get you back on the skiff, Nikolai,” you said. “I’ll get you healed up and then we’ll get you some clothes. Alright?”

“I told you,” Nikolai said, “this is your reward for putting up with the irritating prince.”

“That was for the prince,” you said, running a hand through his blonde curls to untangle them. “My reward for putting up with irritating kings is to make sure they’re clothed and healed.”

His smile shone brighter than anything Alina could conjure up.

The Darkling’s Skiff

You ended up below deck with Nikolai, Tolya, an unconscious Alina and Mal, and the Darkling’s body. It normally wouldn’t have been a cheery atmosphere, but you were just thankful to be alive after all you’d done. Thankful that Nikolai was alive and himself and that the Darkling was dead.

A First Army uniform was folded next to Nikolai’s makeshift cot where you sat next to him, and Tolya’s companionable silence was appreciated as he stayed by Alina and Mal to ensure they stayed alive.

“You broke a few ribs in your fall,” you murmured, your hands placed on his chest, “but overall, I’d say you made out pretty well.”

“Yes,” Nikolai said wryly, looking at his hands. Faint black lines ran across each of his fingers, where claws had torn through his skin. Though the other shadowy marks had faded, these appeared to be permanent. “Pretty well.”

“You know what I mean, Nikolai.” You moved your hand over his ribs and focused your power—by the slight grimace on his face, the itch that came along with Grisha healing, you knew they were mending back together. “You’re still alive. You’re you again. That means everything.”

“And your hands are still freakishly cold,” he mused. You smiled.

A moment passed before he spoke again.

“You know,” Nikolai said, and you felt his eyes on you again, “I remember everything. Everything that I did when I was that… that thing.”

Your throat bobbed, but you nodded, encouraging him on.

“I went to you,” he said, “and… you helped me. You weren’t afraid—you understood what I meant, and you healed me.”

“Of course I did,” you said softly. A smile tugged at your lips. “I am your Healer, after all.”

Nikolai placed his hand over one of yours, and your power wavered for a moment as your heart stuttered.

“One of your ribs is still broken, Nikolai,” you said. “I have to—”

“I love you,” he interrupted. Your eyes snapped to him, and you thought you misheard him.

“What?”

“I love you,” he repeated, as if it came as easily to him as breathing. “Forgive me for the lack of ballads and sonnets on how to express it—I plan to remedy that as soon as we’re back in Os Alta. But I love you, and it’s the one thing I’m sure of at this moment.”

You continued to stare at him, as if you’d suddenly forgotten how to speak. Nikolai was no Corporalnik, but you were sure he could hear how loudly your heart was beating.

“It’s alright if you don’t feel the same,” Nikolai said, “or if you’re not ready. I’m a very patient man.”

It was like your limbs had suddenly regained the ability to move, because something clicked in your mind. You took his face in your hands and you kissed him with a brazen fierceness you didn’t even know you had.

For a man with two bruised ribs and one broken one, he kissed you back with the same intensity, if not more. You poured all your fear, all your anxiety, all your worries about him into the kiss, reveling in the warmth of his lips and his hands and—

Tolya cleared his throat. “We’re nearly out of the Fold.”

You pulled away as quickly as it had started, Nikolai looking very pleased with himself as you fixed the collar of your kefta and looked over at him with eyes that were surely more pupil than iris.

“Thank you, Tolya,” you said, and you cleared your throat as well. Good of him to ignore the two of you. Embarrassing of you to nearly forget about your surroundings when you looked at Nikolai.

“Yes,” Nikolai said, mirth in his voice, “thank you, Tolya.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned back to him, your lips still burning from his kiss, and you settled your hands back on Nikolai’s chest.

“No more interruptions,” you said. “I’ve got to get you healed and dressed before we’re off the sand.”

His eyes twinkled. “Whatever you say, lapushka.”

You had no idea what was next. The Sun Summoner died on the Fold, the Darkling’s reign of terror was finally over, and Nikolai was to be King. You didn’t know where you would fit in, though you were sure he would find a place.

But you loved Nikolai, and by the Saints, Nikolai loved you.

And for now, that was more than enough.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov x y/n #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov angst #nikolai lantsov the love of my life #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fic #grishaverse x reader #sadie writes

2K notes · View notes

yuutawe · 4 months ago

Text

TAKE A BITE INTO MY HEART﹕yuta okkotsu. . .

when death strikes down those you love most, a desperate binding vow proves to be the salvation.

ꖛ warnings!‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(overall) nsfw + angst with happy ending(?)‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎major character death !‎ blood and death (mentions + slightly described) + a bit of gore (hearts) ! cannibalism ! ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎yandere appeals (?) ! mutual obsession ! jjk manga spoilers for the end of the shinjuku battle arc ! i basically threw every rule from the universe out of the window (this is not how binding vows work and im nearly sure of it, lol).

ꖛ about. * reader is gender-neutral. no anatomy specified + they/them pronouns and genderless nicknames.

ꖛ inspired by‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎so, i went back to watching hannibal. blame the homoerotic subtext in the cannibalistic series for this idea.

ꖛ author's note * repost because i can't see my post in the tags (sob). originally posted this in nov 28th.

ꖛ word count ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎1.410 (1.4k)

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎[ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎NOT PROOFREAD!]

how do you undo what can never be undone? a person's comfort when someone dies is usually knowing that it was inevitable. this fate awaits us all in the end. soon, in a day or ninety years, we too will be hidden in large wooden boxes, burned and turned to ash, or left to rot in the darkest, most forgotten corner of the world. but death changes people. its touch is not meant for those who remain alive, but it changes them all the same.

as you changed when yuta died.

the flowers seem too alive when they arrive arranged in bouquets, tied with ribbons that are too vibrant. that color bothers your eyes. or maybe he seems too colorless. it's uncomfortable.

that body on the stretcher is uncomfortable. it's unfair and uncertain. when ieiri and the others left the room ── give them a moment of privacy. you know how important it is ──, whispering behind your back as if you were an abandoned stray animal. a homeless animal, with no place in the world. pitiful. like a creature abandoned on the side of a dirty road. everyone stops to look at the tragedy, but not to help. and how they mourn. they cry more than you.

poor things. they were so happy.

swear i don't know how it happened. one minute he was fine, and the next...

i didn't think he wouldn't make it. i didn't expect this.

i can barely imagine how they must be feeling. imagine seeing someone you love die in front of you, like this.

the sound of metal being punched takes you out of your thoughts. the idea of people saying this now, with you right there with his dead body in front of you, just infuriates you so much that you punched the metal tray without even realizing it. simple as that. anger took over your muscles, and several sterilized tools were thrown on the floor. everything so fast. how can something happen so fast?

how did it all happen so fast?

he was fine. he said he was going to be fine. damn it, yuta promised he was going to stay. that he needed to fight, needed to help. your role was to stay here and give support to miss ieiri.

“asshole.” you can hear yourself mumble, your voice choked with tears. “you promised.”

when you touch his hand, searching for a familiar comfort, you find only an empty shell. normally, his long fingers would gently curl to hold yours. those warm hands would hold yours and yuta’s sweet voice would murmur it’s going to be okay, my love. we’ll make it, we always do.

lying son of a bitch. that’s what you want to scream, as the words mix with please, wake up. wake up and look at me. come back to me.

his body is so cold. not cold in yuta’s way ── warm hands and cold body, but cold like death. cold because the blood has stopped running through his veins, icy because his muscles don't move or contract anymore, his organs don't work.

just a few minutes. it's still surprisingly cool for a fresh body, but he's cold in a way that almost burns you. your aching heart can’t take this sight, no.

your body bends, and your lips touch his icy forehead. those closed eyes, those blue and depressed eyes need to open again. it's the only thing that's right. a dark whisper runs through your mind. he could come back, couldn't he? so many sorcerers have already cheated death. why did her scythe need to fall right on your boyfriend?

it wouldn't be like that. not if you're really here to change the course of history. a living and perfect heart beats in your chest — his, static and dead, is still red. it's still possible. it will be messy and completely crazy, but who's going to stop you?

who would try to execute you both? without the higher-ups, the sky's the limit and the new jujutsu society rises from the rubble of the old. and what golden age doesn't deserve its own champion? may he rise from the ashes and become the new champion of a sick society: recovering from the rot caused by the corruption of the old jurisdiction, yuta will overcome death and return to his place, by your side.

only by your side.

the blood is sticky, gooey. the bright red is so grotesque against yuta's pale skin that you wonder if perhaps god created blood to convince humans to kill less. it didn't work.

as the incision is made in his chest, you quickly put your fingers inside his body. a little searching, and with more effort, you hit his heart. great. with some difficulty, you cut a piece and brings it up to your mouth.

gulp. your swallowing is like the ringing of the death bell.

his blood stains your index and middle fingers — and greedily, you raise them to your lips and stain them with red. it's like lipstick. there's a certain romanticism in that.

the price to pay is not a debt that will be collected immediately. this could backfire very quickly, perhaps in a way that no one can stop. but if this gives him back to you—

the doorknob lowers, and someone grumbles behind the door. there's not much time. you don't have any more time. hey, did you lock the door? whoever is speaking, their voices seem like background noise as you lean in to kiss his cold lips.

may you share a life, may you share gifts and curses again. pure, mutual love overcomes every kind of mortal wound and lacerating incision.

you can almost feel a deep discouragement ── no answer. it didn't work? why? do you have to take a life to give another? it would make sense. bam. bam. open the door, they say. scared of what you might do to yourself.

a hand reaches up and grabs the back of your head, pushing you down once more. and yuta leans up, his lips wrapping around your bloody ones eagerly.

the salty tears run down your cheeks, and your hands let go of the scalpel to cup his face in your hands. it’s almost animalistic, desperate, as pure love invades you both.

he leans back, breathing heavily. oh, he is breathing. yuta okkotsu has returned from the dead thanks to you.

“what is going on— i can’t— my head hurts.”

the pain that hits you right after is almost unbearable. it's like being torn in half and then put back together in a completely different way.

he holds you, still trying to shoo away the ringing in his ears. “love— love, what’s wrong?” yuta asks, grabbing your hand to settle you. to push the pain away from your beating heart.

the heart you two now share. two halves of your heart, shared to pump life through your bodies. you’re weakened, but he is alive. it was worth the price.

the door is broken down with a bang, but you can't make yourself care. your arms wrap around what used to be a corpse, but now is back to being your sweet, lovely boyfriend. he hugs your waist, his fingers grabbing at the flesh as if he wants to make sure you’re real. this is real.

“you’re alive, baby.” you sob, and he gently kisses your tears away. “it’s okay. you’re okay.”

and when the others enter the medical bay, all they see is yuta, who was dead less than a minute ago. he has a new scar on his chest, a vertical cut. the scalpel that was used to help you with the process has long been forgotten, thrown on the floor.

your chin rest at the top of his head, and it feels like you can finally breathe after drowning in grief for cold hours. — years, it’s what it felt like. he nuzzles into your warmth, stealing some for his own body.

his blood is flowing again, but he's still a little pale and the temperature is freezing in the medical bay. he rests his head against your shoulder, watching all the shocked and confused reactions from everyone else.

it's like walking straight into a sacrilege, something impossible, something that should never have happened. the breakdown of the natural order happened here, in this room. and yuta is alive.

alive, and staring at them with cold blue eyes for interrupting your moment.

156 notes · View notes

npookie0 · 1 month ago

Text

An Intoxicating Desire.

Vampire au kc X human reader, scenarios. Tws: blood, human organs, possible spoilers for any routes.

This writing is a part of my collab with, the amazing, @4stor he's the one behind Angel's and V's parts (he opened requests for Angel x reader so if you want more Angel content you know where to go <3) The art at the end is also a part of out collab made by him <3

Go shower my husband with love, darling readers.

Ronin Beaufort - Your Fav Vamp, Darlin'.

To my dearest darlin’.

I hope this letter finds you well, for I, your fucking amazing boyfriend,

or ronin beaufort, however you may Call me, invite you for a lil game.

what’s the game? oh, Hoped i’d tell ya? sorry to disappoint you love, i

would never destroy a wonderful surprise, not even Over my dead body.

Come On, baby, pay me a Lil visit And find out. maybe out game will

inspire your new Tale? a lil human and their Eternally annoying

vampire boyfriend having a lil game. heh don’tcha worry your Sweet

little head over the game, you will find out soon. pay me a visit on the

sappy-lovin’ day, why don’tcha, my human darlin’?

Your devil x

You stood in front of a palace door, it was black, tall, heavy and made out of painted wood. You never expected an… eccentric vampire like Ronin to live in a castle like that, but whenever you saw the interior it all came together. Ronin just leaned into the stereotypic vampires like Dracula and mixed it with Twilight “for the fun of it”. You never judged… okay you did.

Now you were standing at the entrance of his home, the letter he sent you a week ago in your hand. You were curious to say the least, what new game did he plan? Usually it would be just the typical; truth or dare, people watching and making up stories about the people, nothing too crazy or unexpected.

“I bet it’s the usual stuff.” You mumbled to yourself and pushed the door open, letting yourself in. Ronin never opened the door for you anyway in his belief the place is yours as much as it’s his and you didn’t argue. A huge castle you could call your own? That’s like a dream you weren’t willing to wake up from.

Your eyes immediately moved over the hallway you knew so well, extravagant wallpaper and carpets, mixed with ancient furniture and the slight touch of three different pairs of combat shoes thrown on the elegant carpets. Truly Ronin style.

Something was out of place though, there was a bowl of… chocolates on one of the fancy tables that were in the hallway solely for decorative purposes.

Seriously, that man and his need to drive everyone around him crazy. You looked at the chocolates, they seemed normal, and that should be the first red flag for your lil head, but you have a thing for ignoring red flags don’t you?

You ate one of the chocolates, at first nothing seemed out of the ordinary, at least until you took a Bite and… oh god is that blood? The metallic taste on your tongue couldn’t come from anything else; you spat out the chocolate into your hand, you felt something twist in your stomach when you saw the red liquid on your palm. The world was spinning in front of your eyes. Yeah, you knew that Ronin is a vampire and that he finds great enjoyment in consuming blood, but to this extent?

“You lost, darlin'.” A quiet whisper sounded in your Ears, a hand wrapped itself around your waist. You felt someone's torso pressing itself to your back and someone's hot breath tingling your neck.

Ronin.

“What do you mean I lost? We haven't started playing yet, Ronin” You calmed yourself to the best of your abilities, which was hard with your gut feeling telling you that you're in danger.

Yeah, Ronin is your boyfriend, but he's still a deranged vampire who'll do anything to break the chains of boredom and indulge himself in his sick desires.

“Awh, but we did. Darlin' this was our game.” Your eyes widened. What did he mean by that? Chocolates being a game? Maybe Ronin really lost it this time.

“Why so shocked? Did’ja really think I would put a whole basket of chocolates at the entrance? Tsk, tsk, I thought you knew me better, love.” He tightened his hold around your waist. “As for my reward for winning-” Before he could finish the sentence you turned around and cupped his face with your hands.

“Heyy why don’t you give me another chance? Don’t you think it’s too easy if you win without a little struggle Ro? Or are you just scared that I’d actually beat you?” Playing with his ego was a really convincing way to get Ronin to change his mind. After all he would have to prove you wrong now to keep his pride.

“Heh, you’re so fuckin’ right sweetheart. Maybe you’re smarter than I expected.” He clicked his tongue and took a step back just to circle you. His eyes locked on you like a predator looking at his prey, well you weren’t far from the truth. He Is a predator, and you are his human lover, and sometimes a snack if he’s not in the mood to find a new person to change into a blood bag.

“So, what are we playing now?” You asked, your gaze following his every mood.

“What about a little hunt? Y’know, something thrilling.” He snickered. “Ya try to hide from me, if I find you, you lose.” There was that dangerous glint in his eye, the same look he would give you when he’s excited about something.

“And how do I win?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. If there’s a reward maybe you’ll feel Nearly as eager to play as he is.

“Good question my darling. How do you win…” He took a few steps towards you and you backed away with every new step he took, soon you felt the hard wall behind your back.

He put his hand under your chin and looked into your eyes, you were hypnotised by the neverending void that kept many secrets within itself. Secrets you wanted to uncover one day.

“If you manage to put this rose on me before I catch you, you win.” He placed a dried rose in your hand, it was black with all of its thorns still intact. The flower, even dead and dry for a while now, still didn’t lack beauty. Maybe it’s the deadliness that made it so charming? Maybe it was the same case for Ronin and the reason behind your lack of fear towards his vampirism.

“Alright then, prepare to lose, Beaufort!” With a daring smile you ran through the hallway.

You didn’t have a plan, heck you didn’t Even know if he was following after you. Damn Ronin and his damned ability to walk without making any sounds. You had one mission; getting that rose on Ronin at all cost.

You ran through the hallways of Ronin’s castle, the dark corridors bathed in darkness and shadows, you could see the beautiful full moon through the big windows, usually covered by thick and long black curtains to prevent any sunlight from getting into the palace. You could hear your heartbeat, fastening with every second with every new turn you took or noise you heard.

You weren’t stupid, you knew that Ronin would catch up to you at any given moment, even if he gave you time to run off, it would never be enough. He knows this castle better than you know the characters in your stories, and that meant that you’re in some serious trouble.

It was worth the adrenaline though, being chased like this, as if your life was truly endangered, it made you feel alive. Like nothing could stop you from running. Your blood was hot, boiling even, your breath was fast, you were almost out of it. It all felt amazing,

It didn’t take long until you heard loud and heavy footsteps somewhere behind you, panicking as you entered one of the many rooms in the castle’s left wing. You couldn’t see anything, it was far too dark for you pathetic human eyes, the only thing Visible for you was the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Your eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness and that's when you realised that you're even more fucked. It's the castle's throne room, you were there only once; when Ronin was giving you a tour around the castle.

The room was beautiful, with two elegant thrones on a platform, overlooking the whole room, ready for the royal couple to greet their guests. Unfortunately, the thrones - even if extremely beautiful, made of the finest material, designed to be grand and eye-catching - were the only piece of furniture the room had to offer.

You stood in front of two choices, hide behind the thrones or try to sneak out And Look for another room. The latter was less likely to happen, Ronin was too close, leaving now meant losing and you weren't willing to give up that easily.

You moved as quietly as possible to the thrones at the End of the room and sat behind them. A hand to your mouth as you tried to calm your breathing and stay quiet.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Ronin's footsteps were getting louder with every second, you heard the doors to the rooms next to yours open. It was horrifyingly exciting, knowing how close he is to finding you.

“Oh, writer darlin' where are you?” His voice came directly from behind the throne’s room doors.

He was so close, too close.

You had no means to escape, your hiding spot wasn’t helping either, you could only hope that he would walk past the throne room. If only hope and prayers really worked…

You heard a creak when the door was pushed open, and steps echoed through the almost empty room, stopping in the middle of it. You held your breath, trying your best to make as little Noise as possible. Even your heart was too loud in that moment, each beat reaching your ears. You cursed yourself in your mind for choosing this room out of all the other available choices.

You could hear Ronin getting closer to the thrones, but before he reached your hiding spot he stopped in his tracks and clicked his tongue.

“Nah, They’re not here.” He said to himself, sounding disappointed. The sound of his steps getting further away from you was like a blessing you didn’t know you were awaiting. The door shut with a loud thud. You could finally breathe and decide on your next move, maybe even make a plan to actually win.

You stood up from the floor, making your way towards the door with new found confidence, with Ronin making his way to the other rooms you should be able to chase him and put the flower on him. Before you could even walk away from the elegant seats, someone pushed you on one of the thrones and pinned you to it.

“Awh darling, you lost, again.” Ronin’s face was Inches away from yours, you could see the shit-eating grin glued to his face. The disgustingly strong aura of confidence emanating from him.

That bastard, of course it was a trap, you should’ve known it. Why would Ronin willingly skip over an obvious hiding spot and move on to another room? You’re such a fool, and it’s only because of some imaginary reward you would Never even get. Wow Y/N, you’re so smart.

“So, what’s your reward?” You asked. You didn’t like the look he was giving you, it was too secretive.

“Oh nothin’ much, watching you run around like an idiot was almost enough.” He titled your head back, tracing your neck with his thumb. “Almost. I’m starving, love.” He purred into your ear, his voice causing you to shiver. You swallowed, it was blood he was after.

You looked into his eyes, he looked starved, just ready to bury his fangs in your neck. The thought alone, making your face flush. Your taste in men is really questionable…

“Well, it’s your reward, take it.” He cackled at your reply, the sound sick, yet sweet to your Ears.

“With pleasure, my love.” He whispered into your ear, kissing the side of your head before his lips found their way to your neck.

At first he was gentle, kissing your neck, but then he sank his teeth in it, the pain not unfamiliar, still unwelcome. You could feel his hold on your waist tighten, as he sucked on your blood, drinking it like he’s a starved animal getting food for the first time, like he’s an addict. After a while, the pleasure kicked in, the intimacy of it all fucking with your head. Ronin’s touch was tender, even if he was just taking some of your blood away from you. He still made sure that you weren’t about to pass out in front of him.

When you started feeling lightheaded, Ronin recognised it, taking his teeth out of your neck, licking the small streak of blood that was running down your neck.

“Happy valentines, baby.” He kissed your forehead. “Thank you for the sweet, sweet, meal.”

Did you get the devil’s message, darlin’ reader?

Maria de la Rosa - Vampiric Perfect Angel.

For you, everything will be perfect, my sweetheart~

An elegant Angel was running around the kitchen, her perfect pink dress with decorative black roses spread on the floor making her look more majestic than usual. She was preparing for her very special day just for her lover, making sure that everything was perfect for her beloved’s visit. Every pastry and sweet was chosen with care, even the room was meticulously prepared for just the two of you. She wanted everything to be perfect. Ensuring that your Valentine’s date would be flawless and unforgettable.

She hummed to herself as she was taking the red velvet cake from the oven with protection gloves on. Servants and maids of De La Rosa’s castle were astonished to witness their young lady baking on her own—and doing it flawlessly—was a surprise. Maria’s excitement outweighed any concerns about the whispers and rumors amongst servants and maids. She could only care about her partner, her lover, the person she’ll be spending time with for the day till night.

My words will make your heart dance, my Angel.

Meanwhile, you were engrossed in writing a new novel—A vampire romance with a thrilling twist, something that Maria was especially eager to hear about. It was carefully crafted with intricate details in its scenes. You poured your heart and soul into words to create tension, passion, and the danger intertwined in its world. The story consumed your thoughts, Maria De La Rosa as your basis for your main character. After all, who else can depict the sweet lovable femme fatale other than your darling lover? You wanted a twist, the type of plot where it isn’t the usual Twilight and Dracula plot. You wanted the character to feel much more just like her, besides, it helps when you’re that hyperfixated over your love.

But with you, you know that she’s just Maria—even with her vampirism—she treats you better than all others.

And as for Maria? As usual, she is caught up in everything a born vampire princess could be busy with: grand balls, meetings with her new chamberlain (the one who manages the personal affairs of the princess) who was a much better improvement over Finian, and challenges with modeling as a vampire. Explaining to people that she only likes pictures done with one specific camera made her look like a picky spoiled rich girl, but what can she do? She can’t just tell everyone that it’s because regular cameras can’t capture her due to her vampirism.

Red velvet cake, one of our shared favorites

Maria finally cuts the cake, the servants take the trays of food and freshly brewed tea to the room Angel had prepared. The clock was ticking, it was almost time for your arrival, she was excited, all giddy and giggly. She made sure everything was in place, the vibe and the lights perfectly done for their little date. She checked her appearance: makeup, dress, anything that seemed out of place were retouched before she walked out down the corridors and by the main entrance.

The De La Rosa castle was adorned in a palette of white and rose gold, exuding elegance and perfection —an ideal reflection of a family renowned for producing one of the world's greatest models. She was, without a doubt, their most treasured jewel.

Finally, the door was open and there you stood, Y/N, with the matching color scheme outfit she sent to you. Magnificent clothing done with its finest for this very day, and in your hand was a gift. This was Maria de la Rosa’s partner, someone she cherished dearly and held close to her heart. You were always ready to listen to her, visit her whenever she asks you to, go out for little dates with her like the ones in the romantic movies she loved so much. You were a dream come true, the one who accepted her vampirism and let her be herself. It meant more to her than she could ever express, she was grateful.

She walks towards you with the knowing sweet smile, “My love! You’re here!” her eyes sparkled in delight at your presence.

Your hand reaches her cheek, a soft chaste kiss on her lips from your own. You missed her, you knew that and she did too, “I missed you, love” you whisper sweet nothings to her, a soft smile forms your lips.

Maria, flustered as ever, smiles with you. Her warmth radiating at the quiet moment, she leans her forehead against yours to feel your presence, a lingering moment for both of them as the world seems to fade away from them. Their heart beats in sync with their soft breaths mingling before their eyes flutter open and lock into one another with unspoken emotion.

She giggles, breaking the silence, “As much as I’d like to stay like this quietly with you… You’d miss out what I have planned if we stayed like this,”

“Yeah?” You say with your thumb caressing her cheek softly, “I didn’t know you had something prepared, I was just thinking about spending the day with you at the lounge.” you chuckle

“Well it’s Valentine’s day, silly! What more than to spend a special day with your lover?” she smiles charmingly

“Yeah… What more than to spend a day with my princess, my angel, my loving Maria,” You trail your hand down to hers, “Either way, I’m happy to see you. I can’t wait to tell you about the novel I have in progress.” Maria beams in happiness before entwining her fingers with yours.

“Then let’s go~”

Just us, no princess work, no modeling, no pretty diamonds.

It’s just you and me, baby. Person to person.

Your lips on mine as you held my hand. A caress on my cheek, and our hearts flourishing under the moonlight.

It was a night neither of you would forget—a perfect blend of indulgence and romance. The evening had unfolded like a well-orchestrated symphony, with each course arriving in harmonious succession. You had savored a delicate appetizer, followed by a carefully chosen side dish that complemented the rich flavors of the main course. Every bite was shared with quiet laughter, soft glances, and gentle touches. And just when the night couldn't seem any more perfect, dessert arrived—a sweet finale to an already unforgettable evening, lingering on your lips like the memory of a perfect kiss.

Sweet sweet red velvet cake~

Maria lifted a small bite to your lips, her eyes watching you with quiet anticipation as you took it in. The sweetness melted effortlessly on your tongue, rich and delicate, a perfect balance of flavor that made you sigh in delight. A soft chuckle escaped her as she caught the way your expression shifted-eyes fluttering shut for a moment, savoring the taste. She knew you loved it, and that knowledge alone filled her with warmth. "I knew you'd like it," she mused, her voice laced with satisfaction as she playfully tapped the spoon against your lips, silently offering another bite.

“Mm~ and speaking of sweets~” You hummed as you brought out your little gift to her. Delicious handmade chocolates, icing so striking one would never be able to stop craving.

Maria was astonished, gaze shifting from the chocolate to your eyes. “You’re not the only one who prepared a little something,” you mused as you brought a chocolate to her lips, “Go on, princess. Try it,” you coo with a smile.

Maria took a small bite of the chocolate, savoring its chewy sweetness as it melted on her tongue. But what caught her off guard was the lingering aftertaste—a distinct metallic tang that sent a shiver down her spine. She hadn't noticed at first, but now her eyes drifted to your fingertips, where droplets of blood trickled down, staining the remnants of the chocolate. Your smile gleamed in the dim light, unreadable, almost teasing. But Maria knew—without a doubt—what she had just tasted.

“Do you like it?” You ask with a teasing tone, Maria confirmed it—it was blood—she could taste the fear of its blood, her partner was certainly something. Something she never expected even.

“Who did you kill to make this?” She asked, taking another bite of the remaining chocolate, this time the metallic taste came with its sweetness rather than its after taste.

“It’s no one you should worry about,” You replied, retracting your hand away before she suddenly grabs it and licks the remaining blood off your finger tips.

“Wow, didn’t think princess Maria would be this messy with blood,” You smirk, catching sight of the blood on her lips and instinctively reaching out to wipe it away. As your fingers brush against her skin, you pull back—but Maria doesn't look away. Her gaze locks onto you, something shifting in her expression, something primal. Then, you realize why. A faint sting lingers on your fingertip, a small wound now seeping crimson. Her sharp tooth must have grazed you. Slowly, deliberately, she licks the blood from her teeth, her blue eyes darkening with an unspoken hunger as she stares into yours, filled with an undeniable need.

She stood up from her seat and circles around the table, locking eye contact with yours. She placed hand over your cheek before taking your thumb, “Poor you, you grazed through my teeth…” she coos softly before licking your thumb, then capturing a needy kiss from your lips which you returned. You can hear each other’s hearts beating in sync, the taste of your own blood that she loves better.

Slowly, Maria pulled away first, her eyes fluttering open to lock with yours, “I like your blood better…” she coos with soft heat rising up her cheeks. She was definitely flustered.

“Mm… I don’t mind if it’s you,” You held her hand softly, kissing her palm with tenderness.

She smiles softly, recapturing your lips into a passionate deepened kiss. You could feel her dominate you, for a princess full of sweet romance, she also liked these private sessions with you. She thinks you’re cute this way, that you’ve willingly submitted to her. Her special red rose and you liked that.

She pulls away, a breathy gasp escaping your lips as her softness traces from your jawline down to your neck. Each touch is slow, deliberately heated yet tender, carrying a passion that makes your pulse race. You shift slightly, granting her better access, and she wastes no time burying herself against you. Soft, lingering kisses pepper your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your gaze flickers to the mirror, catching the sight of your lips-smeared with red, whether from her lipstick or the aftermath of your fevered embrace, you can't quite tell. Then, without warning, a gentle bite. Her grip around your waist is firm yet delicate as she drinks from you, and you close your eyes, exhaling a slow sigh. There's discomfort, but it's the kind that feels intoxicating, the kind that keeps you wanting more.

Maria knows how to control herself, how to take just enough without hurting you, but tonight-tonight is an exception. She drinks you in as if you're the richest, most forbidden wine, and it takes everything in her not to indulge too much. A hand moves behind her, pulling her closer as you press your lips to her bare shoulder, surrendering to the night.

God your blood is so intoxicating, I desire you right now, baby

She pulls away just in time, her blue eyes scanning your face with concern. A soft furrow forms between her brows, her lips slightly parted as if about to ask if you're alright. But before she can, you offer a small, reassuring smile, cupping her cheek gently. Without hesitation, you lean in, brushing your lips against hers—still smeared with crimson. The taste lingers, rich and intoxicating, a reminder of the moment you just shared.

Minutes pass, the air between you shifting from heated to something softer, something intimate in a quieter way. After freshening up, you both settle onto the plush couch, plates in hand, indulging in the sweet decadence of dessert. The velvety richness melts on your tongue, but it's Maria's presence that truly satisfies. She listens intently as you talk about your book, your voice always music to her ears.

“I wonder who that main character is based on~” Maria coos softly into your ears prompting a giggle from you

“Guess.” You replied with a tease in your tone

Maria giggled softly, God you love her laugh so much, “I’m so happy… Being with you makes me so happy…” she whispers.

Her fingers trace lazy patterns on your arm, her body curled close to yours as if drawn by an invisible force. The conversation flows effortlessly, punctuated by soft laughter and knowing glances.

“Y/n…”

“Yes, Maria?”

“Gosh… I love you so much… My sweet lover…” she says with a sigh before continuing, “Loving you will never be regrettable at all, you’ve shown me so much unconditional love and acceptance that it almost feels too much… And honestly? I thought romance died before you came to my life… I never knew that all I needed was someone like you, someone who understood me, someone who I can be vulnerable with and feel accepted. Someone who sees the real me, who doesn’t fear or flinch by my presence. I’m so happy that it’s you…” Her eyes looked glassy, but you knew that she was happy and content.

“Maria…”

“Y/n…”

“I love you, my Angel…”

“I love you too, Y/n…”

“My life changed when I met you… You were someone I was happy that I never ran away from. That I chose to love you. My heart… it’s beating so fast…” You say as she places her hand on your chest

“I know… Can you hear mine too?” She placed your hand on her chest. Both hearts beat in sync. Lost in the eyes full of love.

This time, you make your first move. You shift on your seat, now seemingly taller than her as you capture her lips into a soft tender kiss which she returned. You could hear it now, your hearts beating faster and louder. God her lips always felt so good, I love her so much

You pull away from her, caressing her cheek as she held your hips with heat rising on her cheeks, then finally…

“Happy Valentine’s day, Maria. I love you,”

“Happy Valentine’s day to you too, mi amor. I love you too,”

You both lean against each other’s foreheads under the quiet dim light enjoying the quiet romance and unspoken emotions as your eyes flutter closed.

The taste of your blood was like the sweetness of love I never would have expected. Like a rich forbidden wine, you were more than just treasure.

You are...an indulgence I can never resist, a temptation that lingers on my tongue and seeps into my very being. You are the craving I cannot tame, the desire that turns my restraint to ash. Every drop of you sings a melody of longing, and with each taste, I fall deeper-helplessly, willingly.

I love you, Reader. Happy Valentine’s to you, I hope I made you feel so loved

Valentin Viljoen - Eternal Follower of Justice.

In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came…

The voice which calls to me and speaks my name

You stand before your mirror, adjusting the delicate fabric of your attire for tonight's grand event. The anticipation hums beneath your skin, a mixture of curiosity and nervousness. A letter had arrived earlier this week, carried by his owl—an elegant, meticulously sealed forest green invitation to an evening at his castle. A grand ball, no less. He was never one for extravagant public affairs, always preferring the solitude of dimly lit corridors and whispered conversations. And yet, tonight, he had arranged something grand, something meant for the “two of you” that is yet to be discovered.

You step outside, the sound of wheels settling on cobblestone pulls your attention. The carriage awaits, an ornate masterpiece bathed in the golden glow of lanterns, it’s like Cinderella all over again, taking you to your loving prince. It stands there like an extension of him, silent yet commanding, as if his very voice calls you forward just like in your dreams, he always appears shrouded, veiled in mystery and shadow. And yet, you yearn to unmask what lies beneath—to see his loving eyes unobscured, to trace the contours of his face with your fingertips, to know him fully, beyond the secrecy he keeps.

And do I dream again?

For now I find

The phantom of the opera is there inside my mind…

You take a deep breath and step forward. The coachman, dressed in fine but muted attire, offers his gloved hand to assist you. With practiced ease, he helps you into the carriage, the plush forest green interior swallowing you in an embrace of luxury. The door shuts with a soft click, sealing you within this moment, this journey toward a night of unknown promises.

The carriage lurches forward, wheels rolling steadily against the path, carrying you toward the mystery that is him.

Let’s dance, my love.

You arrive by the main entrance of the castle as the wheels of the carriage rolled through the cobblestone till it fades away. And once again, you hear a voice call out to you.

“Come to me, my angel”

You take a step forward and push the giant gates which presents the beautiful dim corridors of a forest green interior with white accent. This was not your first visit, however you were still at awe with the luxury he lives in.

“Angel to my music…”

The faint strains of an orchestra reach your ears, the melody weaving through the walls like an enchantment meant only for you. Each note feels familiar, as if composed for this very moment-strings trembling with longing, piano keys whispering secrets only your heart can understand.

Then, amidst the harmony, you hear it. His voice. Soft, distant, yet unmistakable. It calls to you, threading through the music like an invisible hand guiding you forward. A hallucination, perhaps. Or maybe, just maybe, it is real.

Your pulse quickens as you step closer, the towering doors of the ballroom standing before you like a threshold between reality and something far more ethereal. The golden carvings on the frame glisten under the chandelier's glow, an unspoken invitation. All it takes is a single push.

With a deep breath, your fingers press against the cold surface of the door. It yields under your touch, gliding open effortlessly, and at that moment, the music swells welcoming, beckoning. A sea of what you thought would be an opulence and masked faces that should stretch before you was none other than an entire orchestra and a room of emptiness, the ballroom bathed in a golden radiance. And yet, amidst the grandeur, your gaze searches for only one.

The one who called you here.

“V…” You mutter under your breath

He smiles at your presence, arm outstretched beckoning you closer, “Sing once again with me… Our strange duet,” he steps forward, which draws you in like some hypnotic spell that lures you into his arms.

“My power over you… grows stronger yet” He held your hand, his voice deep and majestic like he could sing in an opera.

You try to draw near him, yearning for his mask, “And though you turn from me, to glance behind” he sang, filling your cheek as he restricts you from getting near his mask in a form of teasing.

The phantom of the opera is there…inside your mind.

“Eyes on me, my love” He whispers as he holds your waist firmly, eyes locked together as you make a quick turn. Steps in sync with his perfectly like he knew what he was doing, a man in control of you. His loving angel.

Those who have seen his face always draw back in fear. Whispers surround him like a ghostly shroud, murmured tales like stories of horrors and secrecy. Claiming curses of his features that his mask is not an accessory but a necessity, hiding something no mortal should ever lay their eyes upon. Others merely insist that he’s in vain, unwilling to let the world see the truth that lies beneath.

You’ve always been curious.

What do you hide underneath?

Unlike the others, you do not flinch in fear. No, never at the mystery that surrounds him. He chose you—his partner— for this very reason. Instead, it draws you in like the pull of the moon on the tide. He gives you a twirl before you step closer to him again, hand reaching the hem of his mask before he takes your hand gently with a glint of tease in his eyes.

He’s definitely playing with you. It was not his thing, but perhaps this was the “special gift” that he mentioned in his invitation.

The music swells, and you move in perfect harmony, a waltz woven from unspoken words and the steady rhythm of your hearts. His soft smile never wavers, a silent promise of devotion as he leads you effortlessly across the ballroom floor. Every step is deliberate, each turn filled with passion, as if the world around you has faded into nothingness. The grand chandeliers cast their golden glow upon you both, your eyes set only for each other.

(My) Your spirit and (My) your voice in one combined..

The phantom of the opera is there, inside (my) your mind.

His hands rest firmly on your waist, guiding you with unwavering confidence, ensuring that not even a moment of imbalance could break this sacred dance. The fabric of your attire flutters as he spins you, his grip unwavering, a silent vow that he will never let you fall.

He’s there the phantom of the opera

And then, as the orchestra reaches its crescendo, he lifts you effortlessly, elevating you above the floor, where you gleam beneath the enchanting light.

To the gleaming lights of the grand chandeliers and orchestra, you are a vision of grace, two souls lost in a dance that speaks of longing and eternity. But to him, you are something more—his muse, his melody, the angel to his music beneath the moonlit sky.

You both part as you gracefully land, yet curiosity gnaws at you, urging you forward. The music swells, reaching its peak, mirroring the quickening rhythm of your heart. Beckons you a hand to his mask, a silent invitation, his gaze drawing you in-closer, ever closer.

It’s your chance.

“Come my angel.”

You take a cautious step forward, and he mirrors you by stepping back, an unspoken challenge lingering in the air. Soon, your movements fall into perfect harmony, a delicate yet intense game unfolding between you. Each step becomes a silent conversation, the space between you shrinking and expanding like the ebb and flow of a tide. The music swells, each note weaving an intricate tale, a dramatic crescendo of longing and mystery. It is as if the entire ballroom is holding its breath, captivated by this dance, by the tension, by the anticipation of what comes next.

You want to know what’s underneath, you’re craving to know. You want to reach your hands out and fill both his cheeks and kiss him. You want to be able to look into his eyes and cherish the mysterious beauty he hides no matter how scary he is. Before you know it, he stepped out of the ballroom leaving the door open like he knew you’d follow.

And you did.

You rush out of the ballroom, your heart pounding as you search for your lover. "V?" you call out, your voice echoing through the grand hall. Your eyes scan the dimly lit surroundings until you catch sight of him standing by the staircase, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Without a word, he turns and ascends the steps, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the second floor. Without hesitation, you follow, your footsteps quickening as he vanishes into the left wing of his castle, drawing you deeper into his world.

This is just the beginning of our dance, my angel

Through every dimly lit corridor, the moonlight spills in through arched windows, casting long, ghostly shadows along the stone walls. Your heart pounds against your chest as you push forward, chasing after the fleeting figure ahead. His presence is near—you can feel it in the faint whisper of footsteps, in the distant rustle of fabric brushing against the cold floor. Every turn leads you deeper into the castle, but the more you pursue him, the farther he seems to slip from your grasp.

It dawns on you—how little you truly know about him. His face, forever hidden behind his mask, remains a mystery. His voice, haunting yet gentle, has always kept you captivated, yet his true nature remains elusive. He is an enigma wrapped in darkness, and yet, in the depths of your heart, there is no doubt. You do not need to see his face to know the love he bears for you, unconditional and unwavering. It is something you cherish now more than ever, something you yearn to protect—to hold onto for eternity.

I’m right here, my love. Always here.

You come to an abrupt halt, your breath hitching as the atmosphere thickens around you. The room ahead glows with a faint, ethereal light, casting soft shadows that dance along the polished floors. Then, his voice—velvety, haunting, and intoxicating—calls out to you once more, drawing you in like a siren's song. His invitation is unspoken yet irresistible, and with a steadying breath, you push the door open, stepping into the unknown.

The sight before you is nothing short of breathtaking. A grand yet intimate room, adorned with dark wooden furniture that exudes timeless elegance, welcomes you. The air is rich with the scent of aged books and a hint of something sweet. At the center stands an exquisitely set table, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. But what truly captures your attention is the confection laid atop it—a decadent cake, its intricate design shaped into a heart, a macabre yet oddly beautiful symbol of devotion. Surrounding it are delicate chocolates, each crafted with care, as if whispering sweet temptations.

And then, there he is—your lover, waiting, watching. His presence commands the room, his masked gaze never straying from you. His lips curl into the faintest smile, a silent promise of the night yet to unfold.

“V…”

“Y/n.”

He takes your hand and kisses the ridge of your hand before planting a soft kiss onto your lips that you so fell for. He fills your cheek, deepening your kiss passionately before pulling away.

“Did you enjoy our dance?” He asked softly to which you nod in confirmation

“I did, it was unexpected but… I did” He chuckles at your response before bringing you to the table where he sat you at the beautiful chair in front of the cake.

“A sweet delicacy, made for you.” He held a plate of slice ready for you

You giggle softly, “I want to ask a favor, just one.” your gaze locked into his

“Which is?”

“Your face”

“No”

You fill his cheeks with your delicate hands, “Pretty please?”

He sighs, “You’ll fear what’s underneath, my love”

“You’re talking to a human who fell for their vampire lover, how worse can it get?” Your words hint with teasing, “Besides, isn’t trust a foundation of the relationship?” You draw closer to him, your hand placed by the hem of his mask. He doesn’t stop you, not this time—instead, he locks within your gaze, curiosity piqued his interest at your reaction to what you could express.

At last, with determined hands, you lift his mask, unveiling the mystery that has long been hidden from you. Beneath the polished porcelain lies a face marked by a burn scar—an imprint of the past that others recoil from, a sight that has instilled fear in many. But not you. Never you.

Where the world sees tragedy, you see resilience. Where they see imperfection, you see beauty—a tale of survival written upon his skin. The mask slips from your grasp, falling to the floor with a hollow clatter, forgotten in the moment. Without hesitation, you cradle his face in your hands, tracing the lines of his features as if memorizing every inch.

His breath hitches, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, but you silence his doubts with a fervent kiss. It is not pity, not mere acceptance, but devotion—a promise that you love him as he is, unmasked, raw, and real.

I am never afraid of you, sweetheart.

Both you and your lover spent in the quiet intimacy of the moment, the low hum of candlelight flickering against the dark wooden walls. A gentle conversation flows between you, soft and unhurried, as if time itself has slowed to savor this night.

He lifts a delicate bite of cake to your lips, his fingers steady, his amber eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "I promise, you'll love it," he murmurs with a knowing smile, his voice velvety smooth, coaxing.

The scent of rich chocolate and something subtly unfamiliar fills your senses as you part your lips, allowing him to feed you. The warmth of his fingertips lingers near your skin, an unspoken invitation to trust him. And as the flavors melt on your tongue-sweet, decadent, and strangely metallic—you find yourself lost in his gaze, wondering just what kind of promise he has truly made.

Your brows knit together in confusion as you let the strange taste settle, your mind struggling to place it. It's familiar, yet foreign, a contradiction that leaves you uneasy. Slowly, you lift your gaze to V, who sits across from you, his expression unreadable. He watches you intently, a soft, knowing smile playing on his lips, as if he is waiting for you to understand.

“Did you like the heart?”

You stared at him, your lips still tingling from the strange mix of flavors. It wasn't like him to do something so peculiar—to feed you an actual heart-shaped cake, so lifelike it almost felt like a taunt. The chewy texture, the metallic hint beneath the sweetness, it was... unnerving.

Your brows furrow as you meet his gaze. He's watching you closely, that ever-present, knowing smile playing at his lips. There's something in his eyes-amusement, curiosity, perhaps even anticipation.

"What?" you finally ask, your voice quieter than intended.

His fingers trail along the edge of the plate before he leans in just slightly, his breath warm against your skin. "Did you like it?"

You swallow, trying to shake the unease creeping up your spine. It was just cake... wasn't it?

“Is that..?”

He tilted his head, his smile not wavering, “Is that what?”

“A heart?”

“Yes, a heart shape” he teases you lightly

You smack V’s arm, “You know what I mean!”

He chuckles, “Yes, an actual heart inside the cake, how did you like it?”

“I mean— I don’t mind it, but I never expected a live heart from you. Maybe from a certain someone, but never you. You’ve been awfully playful tonight” V responds with a laugh

“I guess I wanted to try a little something for tonight, just us.” He leans against your neck, planting a soft kiss before holding you closely

“Care to stay over?” He asks

“I thought you’d never ask.”

You kiss his burn scar softly, “Happy Valentine’s day, Valentin”

He smiles softly before pressing a chaste kiss on your lips, “Happy Valentine’s day to you too, Y/n dear”

The moonlight streamed through the grand windows, casting a soft glow across the room, illuminating the quiet moment shared between you. Shadows danced along the walls, but neither of you paid them any mind. Instead, your gazes remained locked, speaking in a silent language only the two of you could understand.

There was no need for words, no grand declarations—just the depth of his dark eyes meeting yours, a silent promise exchanged in the stillness. His fingers brushed against yours on the table, a fleeting touch, yet enough to send warmth through your skin.

All he needed was you. In this moment, in this quiet sanctuary of moonlit devotion, nothing else mattered.

I will sing and dance for your music, my phantom.

My prince under the moonlight and hidden in the shadows.

Valentin Viljoen, you’re the unseen hand that guides my every step.

A love both haunting and eternal, forever ours to keep.

Happy Valentine’s day, my loves.

Misaki Katsuo - Sweet Even as Undead.

You were sitting in your house, eyes locked on the computer screen in front of you. You were working on a news report, that’s how your nights looked for over a month now. Your work was consuming you, taking away your life, locking away anyone.

Including your partner Misaki. You wanted to make time for them, you really did, you even planned a whole evening of attractions for valentine's day, but it all went to hell once your phone called. Your team needed a new report about a vampire victim, seriously Ronin could take a break for one night.

You sighed as you looked at the time, the clock almost showed seven. “Great another day spent working.” You murmured to yourself while you outstretched your arms. You weren’t even halfway done with the report. It was too much for you, you just wanted to hop onto the Bloodthirsty Losers server and spam your partner with all the “I miss you” and “I love you” messages you owed them.

“Fuck, I’m hungry.” You mumbled when your stomach felt way too empty and painful at the same time. You stood up, pushing your office chair back, almost causing it to fall. Not like you cared, you just wanted to eat, anything would work as your perfect meal at this point, okay maybe besides human meat - you’re not Angel after all.

You made your way to the kitchen, frowning when the only thing you saw was the yellow white reflecting the empty, white shelves of your fridge. Of course you didn’t have food, you haven’t left your house for the past week. You groaned, not in the mood to go to the store to buy instant noodles and stuff yourself with them until you forget about hunger completely. What a nutritious meal Y/n really, you’re outdoing yourself. You were about to get out your phone and call for a food delivery.

Expect the unexpected, silly.

The sound of your doorbell ringing filled your house. Someone was really trying to get through to you, pressing against the switch without a single pause, creating a prolonged annoying noise.

“I’m coming! Jesus Christ…” You grumbled and made your way to your door, expecting to see an annoying girl scout trying to sell some Valentine’s Special cookies in the shape of a heart, you were considering it being your luck if the scenario was true, but what or rather who you saw on the other side of the door was beyond your wildest expectations.

Misaki stood on the other side of the door, wearing an outfit consisting of shorts and a very ruffly elegant shirt, both were white with a pink gradient. She looked very elegant and cute. You noticed a tote bag full of… something, hanging from her shoulder, it piqued your curiosity but before you could even ask anything…

“Oh gosh! Baby finally!” Misaki exclaimed excitedly, throwing their arms around you and squealing happily when they embraced you.

You were caught off guard. This visit was definitely unexpected, but not unwelcome. You missed them, dearly, so having them here, in your arms, happily holding you tightly was truly wonderful.

“Ah!” You yelped, surprise still present on your face. “Misaki, sweetheart, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you, duh! You weren’t online for a while and I, and everyone else, got worried you dummy.” She stepped back and locked the door that was wide open for the whole time. “I hope you’re hungry because we’re going to bake brownies!” They didn’t give you any time to answer, kicking their shoes off and going to your kitchen.

You wanted to huff, or argue, but you could only giggle and follow them with a stupid smile on your face, warmth filling your heart and making this evening especially enjoyable. All giddy and excited entered the kitchen to see Misaki taking out the different ingredients needed for brownies with the addition of strawberries.

“Strawberries? Really?” You asked when you stood next to them, leaning on the kitchen counter.

“What did you think I’d want to use for the filling? Blood? Sorry babes I only drink blood when the crazy gal in me wakes up.” They joked and took one of the strawberries into their hand. Misaki closed the distance between you and held your chin with their free hand. “Say ah~” She held the strawberry right in front of your lips. You rolled your eyes playfully and open your mouth, accepting her offering happily,

“Okay, let’s get to baking or we’ll eat all of the strawberries.” You put your hands on their shoulders and turned them around. “I’m starvinggg.” You whined and gently pushed them towards the counters.

A little mess never hurt nobody.

Baking with Misaki was an… experience for sure. Your whole kitchen looked like a storm just went through it, flour everywhere, some eggs on the floor and the countertop, cocoa powder all over Misaki’s white shirt. You were trying to mix the cake mix while Misaki was clinging to your side, her head resting on your shoulder.

Unexpectedly they pushed you gently, your hand slipping, some of the mix getting onto your wrist and hand. You huffed in annoyance and looked at Misaki.

“Misaki, please be mor- what are you…?” You were at a loss for words when Misaki grabbed your forearm and pulled your arm to her mouth and… started licking the substance off of your hand. “Misaki, baby, darling, I know that living in a trailer might’ve messed up with your pretty lil head, but I do have running water that I could clean my hand with.” You said with an amused tone, shaking your head in disbelief.

They let go of your hand once they finished their “job” and looked at you with a proud mischievous smirk. “Yeah, but then the cake would go to waste, dummy!” She poked your nose with a sweet cackle. “Okay let’s finish this! And then, I’ve got a surprise!”

“What kind of surprise?” You gave them a look, what new idea could that sweet idea of their makeup?

“If I tell you it won’t be a surprise! Now chop chop! We don’t have all night to bake.” They stuck out their tongue at you. You just playfully pinched their cheek and started working on the brownies again.

The stars in the sky were made for us.

Misaki was holding your hand as they were guiding you to the “surprise”. They decided to blindfold you, apparently seeing would destroy everything, you decided to not question their decision. Whatever made your wonderful partner happy you would agree to do.

“Are we there?” You asked, shouting to them because of the wind blowing at your face.

“A few more minutes!” They shouted back with an excited chuckle, you could feel yourself being pulled harder when Misaki started to run. You ran behind her, trying to not stumble against your own feet or the ground. The ground beneath your feet was uneven, hard, in some places you could feel yourself stopping over something very fragile and easy to bend,

Your surroundings were quiet, no cars, no people, just you, Misaki and a bird here and there. The wind wasn’t so strong anymore, it was a light breeze, you heard it swaying the trees, their leaves making a peaceful melody, a song for the two of us.

“We’re here~!”

You felt two cold hands gently lifting the scarf they used to blindfold you up. Your eyes needed a second to adjust to your new surroundings. Finally, once they adjusted, you could look around, the darkness of the night wasn’t that overwhelming, you could see perfectly well.

You were in the middle of a meadow, the flowers were all wilted, some trees had some leaves on them, but most were naked, their leaves on the ground, dried and dead. A snowless winter wasn’t thought of as beautiful, yet to you, the sight was mesmerizing. Seeing the earth die, just for it to come back to life and be all colourful in two months? It reminded you of your relationship with Misaki. There will be moments when work may consume you, keep you in its unbreakable chains, but she will come in, barge into your life with that sweet mischief painted all over her face, ready to steal you away from work and cause chaos.

Even Gods won’t be able to destroy this beautiful connection.

“Do you like the spot I picked out?” They asked, squealing happily. If Misaki was a dog, her tail would be wiggling like crazy by now.

“Mhm! It’s deadly beautiful.” You said and took a step towards them, whispering into their ear, “Just like you, my dear.”

Misaki’s face flushed as they punched your shoulder gently.

“Staphh! I’m the one who’s supposed to be dorky and made you all cute and blushy today.” They huffed, trying to suppress the beaming smile that was forming on their face.

“You’re the dorkiest and cutest.” You chuckled, patting their head. Seriously, they’re so much like a cat sometimes. A cute little kitty… Yeah you can see the vision.

“Are we planning to stand here for god knows how long?”

“Pfft! Of course not you little idiot! What do you think I stole your blanket for?” They poked your forehead with their index finger. “Be a sweetie and hold this for me.” They gave you their bag and took out a blanket, it was something you owned for ages so you didn’t really care if it got dirty, or if they stole it from you, which realistically was bound to happen anyway. Somehow your wardrobe became emptier ever since Misaki started to visit you, sometimes you just leave a tshirt in the middle of a room and chuckle when you notice it being gone after Misaki leaves your house.

They’re so adorable.

You were laying down on the blanket, hand in hand with Misaki. Looking at the night’s sky, subtly glancing at Misaki from time to time. You couldn't help yourself, she just looked so beautiful in the moonlight, her eyes reflecting the stars when she spoke about them.

Jesus, you missed this so much, missed spending time with them, listening to them talking about their interests, or struggles, or just talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Watching their eyes sparkle with excitement when they pointed at a constellation, giggling sweetly when you tried to guess its name and was wrong.

“Nooo, I told you a million times that it’s not the little bear! Wow, you’re such a great listener.”

You scoffed, finding their playful frustration with you just adorable. “Awh, I’m so sorry sweetie, I’m always so focused on looking at you it slips my mind to listen too.” You moved closer to them, wanting to kiss their cheek, but before you could do that they sat up and pointed at the sky.

“Ohmygodohmygod! Look! It’s the meteor shower!”

You looked up at the sky, the view just breathtaking. You could see the sky light up with new lights, passing through it quickly and making a memorable effect. You felt like you were watching a performance, beautiful, engraved in your mind permanently.

“Don’t just look at it! Make a wish.” Misaki shook you, tearing you away from your thoughts. You looked at them, their smile was all you needed to know what wish you wanted to make.

I wish for this moment to last forever.

I love you so much Misaki, I wish for more time to spend it all with you.

I wish to spend every valentine’s day with you.

For eternity.

“I love you sweetheart.” You whispered to them, the words only meant to be heard by them.

“I love you too, Y/n.” They replied, kissing you before you could say anything more.

Let’s be together forever.

My sweetest Y/n.

Happy Valentine's day my lovely readers <3

72 notes · View notes

paracosmic-murdock · 1 month ago

Text

vigilante like me

chapter four: takes one to know one

pairing: matt murdock x black widow!vigilante!reader

summary: nights and nights of playing the hero as if that could redeem you that easily ended up taking you to new york, where you accidentally met the man who would turn your world upside down. a vigilante like you.

warnings/tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries, phd in applied flirting and ma in yearning studies, some smut (minors dni), takes place sometime during the blip, when born again comes out we might find out if my decisions of who were gone were right, spoilers/references of stuff and themes from daredevil (2015); avengers: infinity war (2018); avengers: endgame (2019) black widow (2021); and hawkeye (2021), but y'all must've watched all of those already so idc, yelena belova and the themes and events from the black widow (2021) movie are very relevant in this plot, song: cowboy like me (taylor swift)

word count: 3K

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

The way to your apartment was an experience you would rather not repeat ever again.

With Matt more dead than alive, making your way home through the alleyways proved to be more difficult than you had anticipated. You thanked whatever deity as soon as you had him lying against the walls despite knowing you would have to clean the blood off of the almond-white paint.

“Come on, let's get you cleaned up,” you said in a low volume.

“You don't have to, I'll just-”

You exhaled tiredly. “Those men are looking for you, and if you leave this place like that, them or anybody else from whatever organization they come from are gonna find you and fucking kill you. Not to mention me, who might've killed two of them.”

“You don't have to worry about me.”

“I'm not worried about you,” You chuckled, sarcastic. “I just don't want a dead man in my living room.”

He nodded. “I get that, but I have to leave.”

“You are not leaving,” you stated, almost threatening. “Unless you live in this very same building, you won't make it to your place alive.”

“I take it you're not a woman of faith,” he commented, giving you what seemed like a smirk interrupted by the pain from his split lip.

You frowned, making a confused grin. “You're a weird guy, Daredevil.

“It's the catholic in me.”

You pursed your lips.

“Take off your clothes.”

He chuckled, a tired laugh slipping from his lips. “Usually, we'd go for dinner first.”

“I can order something, but you'll pay for it.” You rolled your eyes.

“Hey, you're the one who wants me naked.”

“You're too chatty for someone who's bleeding to death in my apartment,” you noted, taking him to your bathroom. He was hesitant to let you but ended up complying.

As soon as you were in the bathroom, you sat him on the toilet.

“Take your suit off. And keep your underwear, alright?” you ordered him. “I'll turn around.”

The last thing you saw before you did as you promised was his smirk. You scoffed, almost regretting helping him.

Though, in the end, you've known he was a cocky bastard since you first talked with him at Josie's.

“You don't have to do this,” he insisted.

You sighed, turning around. “I know that.”

He had taken his suit off and only had his briefs and helmet on. Also, he was clearly about to pass out from exhaustion in your bathroom.

You cupped his face and began taking off his helmet, but his hand held your wrist, stopping you from it. “Wait-”

“I don't know if this has worked with anybody else, but I know what your voice sounds like, Murdock,” He turned his focus to you, not knowing what to expect. “And you know mine, so we're even.”

Matt stayed silent and let you take off his helmet. As soon as it was off, you noticed he had a cut in his right cheek under the border of the helmet, a split lip, blood down his nostrils, and a bruise in his jaw.

You don't really know what got over you, but you used your thumb to touch his face as if you had to use your skin to catch what your eyes couldn't. That was probably because you couldn't take your eyes off of his own to look anywhere else.

They were a greenish brown and completely mesmerizing, directed to your nose instead of your eyes. His pupils were dilated, and you identified the insecurity in them.

“I know what you must be wondering,” he muttered.

“What would that be?” you inquired, your thumb softly tracing the shape of his lower lips. Matt exhaled with his eyes closed as you imagined things that had never crossed your mind before about anybody else, but now they were and with the person you wanted as far from you as humanly possible.

Maybe not anymore.

“Whether I'm actually blind or not.” He opened his eyes, and now they were on yours as if he could see how appealed you were by them.

You shook your head lightly. “I wasn't wondering about that, but now that you mention it, I have my questions.”

“Well,” he chuckled. “There is more than one way to see.”

“Yeah?” You tilted your head, now touching the open wound in his cheek. Matt winced but didn't pull away.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, his hands, all bloody from his bruised knuckles, going to your arms and softly caressing them. He kept on touching, now feeling the goosebumps in your skin. “I can use my other four senses: I can touch, I can smell, I can taste, I can hear…, but there's more than that. I can feel everything, from a shift in the air to the temperature of this place.”

“That explains it.”

He chuckled lightly. “What were you really thinking about, then?”

“Nothing.” you lied. Of course, you were not going to tell him you found his eyes fascinating and that you just imagined how nice it would be to kiss him.

“Nothing?” He tilted his head, trying to detect a lie in your heartbeat, but it was steady as ever. “You should teach me how to stop thinking.”

“You have to focus on something else and imagine you're in a beautiful place where nobody talks.”

“What were you focusing on?”

“You're not cute enough for me to tolerate your nosiness.”

“Well, noted.”

There was silence again, and you couldn't bring yourself to say anything else, so you helped him stand up and get inside the shower.

As soon as you turned it on and got ready to leave, you noticed all the water was bright red once it hit the floor and that Matt was struggling to stay on his feet.

“It's okay, Matt,” you said, trying to comfort him. “Sit down, I'll help you.”

Matt doubted for a long second but did as you told him.

When you got in, you were only in your underwear, just like he was.

You took shampoo and soap and left them on the floor, and then you sat in front of Matt, who rested against the tiles and couldn't keep his eyes open.

“Come here,” you asked, and he approached you instinctively. “I'll wash your hair first.”

Just like you said, you got some shampoo on your hands, rubbed them, and then massaged his scalp.

The smell of the product, though pleasant, took Matt by surprise, and the soft movements of your fingers on his scalp made him associate the scent with comfort. The cold water hitting his skin contrasted with the warmth of his flushed cheeks, and the sting for each drop that fell in his wounds made him suppress uncountable groans.

“Let me know if I hurt you, okay?” you murmured. Matt nodded.

You held him by his shoulders and pulled him closer to you, also directly under the shower.

The water washed away the shampoo, which fell slightly red to the floor due to the blood in his hair and his skin. Then, you washed his face delicately, trying not to get soap inside his cuts.

“Do you want something from me?”

“I do,” you replied calmly, now washing the blood off his chest. “I want you to stop asking around about me. I never did anything to harm you or your city, and I certainly never approached you. I have no idea what I did to make you want to stalk me, but I want you to back off.”

He sighed, asking himself what part of you showering him gives away the fact that you want him out of your life. How can you say something like that while the tip of your fingers traces the curves of his body with such tenderness? Your words make no sense to him as you keep his right hand in yours and wipe away all the dried blood as if he were an antique porcelain doll that could break if you rubbed too harshly.

“I can stop asking about you,” Matt agreed, his voice still weak. “I'm sorry, I was just worried about you after that night at the bar.”

“You don't have to worry about me.”

“I'm not worried about you,” he shot back, almost making you smile. “I just don't want a dead woman in my city if I can help it.”

You tried your best not to laugh. “Oh, you know I won't be the dead one, don't you?”

“I do now, I swear.”

“Good,” You looked at him. “We're done here, let's go to the room.”

“Whose room?”

“The guest room,” you lied. You don't even have a guest room.

But Matt would never know, since your heartbeat didn't change with your dishonesty.

“Okay.”

You gave him a towel. “You should cover yourself. I'll meet you outside.”

Before joining him, you took your own quick shower so you could patch yourself up too. Soon, you were both sitting on your bed as you stitched him up.

“I'm not used to someone else doing this,” he commented. “It's not too often that another person patches me up.”

You put butterfly bandages on the cut in his cheek. “Yeah?”

He hummed. “And you have a knack for it. I can barely feel your hands.”

“I have my experience,” You gave him half a smile.

“Oh, God, was that a smile? You can actually smile?”

You gasped, offended. “I sure can smile! And laugh!”

“You never do. This is so weird.” he joked.

“Shut up.”

“You must have a nice smile.”

“I can't tell you that because nobody has ever complimented it.”

“How could they? Says the legend that nobody has ever seen it.”

You smacked his shoulder. “I inform you that I have many weapons in this apartment and I won't hesitate to use them if you keep mocking me.”

“I know you have many weapons. I bet there's a few of them underneath this bed and they're loaded.”

“How do you know it?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Gunpowder.”

You hummed in confirmation. “There's a gun here. One to spare in my closet. There are knives in my bathroom, a gun near the door, one in the fridge, and some knives all around.”

“Inside the fridge?” he questioned.

“My enemies might think it's milk, but you and I both know it's not.”

“Oh, do you have many enemies?”

“Only a few. And add those guys I saved you from today.”

“And thanks for that.”

“You're welcome, Devil.”

Matt nodded and the room fell silent. You finished patching him up.

“Your turn.”

“I can only guess so.”

You guided his hands to where your injuries were, and it almost surprised you how he clearly didn't need you as he found wounds you hadn't realized were on you. Matt was skilled, and it was obvious he had done this to himself —and maybe to someone else— numerous times.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask me anything, but I decide whether I answer or not. I could also lie.”

“I'll know it if you lie.”

You scoffed, incredulous. “Will you, though?”

“Give me your hand,” he told you. You did as he asked, and he put it where his heart was. “What's your name?”

“You already know that,”

“Just answer.”

You told Matt your name and he nodded.

“Mine is Matthew Michael Murdock,” he said. “Feel my heart as I speak. If it beats quicker, it means I'm lying… I'm a lawyer.”

“It's steady,” you noted.

“Ask me something.”

“What's your drink of choice?”

He smirked. “Something serious.”

“That is serious.”

“Okay, nothing too fancy. A Macallan 18.”

“That's a lie,” you concluded after feeling his heart jump ever so slightly.

“You're right, there's nothing I love more than a cheap beer at Josie's.”

You smiled. “True.”

“Now, can I ask?” he inquired. You nodded. “Are you a Black Widow?”

You sighed. “You had to ask.”

“You are free to not answer.”

“I know.”

Then, there was silence.

Until you spoke. “I am. Or I guess I was, though something inside me makes me feel like you never cease to be something you were turned into like that.”

“True,” he muttered. “But I think you've been something different from that lately.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“A hero.”

You chuckled dryly. “I am no hero, I just make sure that whoever fucks around also finds out.”

“Well,” Matt smiled. “That's kind of an entry-level requirement, you know? You do that and protect others without expecting anything in return.”

“I'm pretty sure that the kids nowadays call that being a vigilante,” you corrected him. “I don't think I'm one; I'm just a mad woman with nothing to lose.”

“I'm afraid it takes one to know one,” Matt commented. “I might be one of those too.”

“But you do have a lot to lose: the city you love, your career, you might even have friends and a family, a community… And you still do all of this,” you countered. “You do this from love and goodness, selflessly. That makes you some sort of martyr, not a madman with nothing to lose or a simple vigilante.”

“I'm not sure I'm that selfless,” Matt said. “Most times, it's my wrath that does all of that.”

You tilted your head, showing interest in his words. “What does wrath have to do with saving those who need it?”

“The Bible says about the wrath that it is only the wrath of God that will serve justice upon those who trespass against us because it does not come from immortality, but from the rejection of sin,” he began. “Whereas, men let their wrath take over them and turn to evil… and harm others like I do every night. It is not up to us humans to seek vengeance and bring punishment but to God.”

“You are quite the believer, aren't you?”

Matt shrugged. “I've had my crises of faith, I must be honest.”

“Matt,” you called for his attention. Once his focus was on you, you proceeded. “How could it be pure evil when it all is for the greater good?”

“While it is all for the greater good at the end of the day, I think it comes from guilt, and it's released in the form of wrath and violence.”

“Is that why you're the Devil?”

“I told you before that my father was a boxer: Jack Murdock,” He took the gauze and started covering the wounds he had just cured. “And my grandmother, she used to say us Murdock boys have the Devil in us.”

“Do you dare the devil in you every time you put on that suit?”

Matt lifted your face by your chin and stroked it softly. “What's your name?”

“Beyoncé.” you joked.

Matt noticed there wasn't any sort of alteration in your heartbeat, so he just put his hand on your chest. “How was it like being a Widow?”

“Every day felt like running in a field of flowers under the most beautiful of sunsets.”

It also felt like the truth, but Matt knows better now.

“That was a lie.”

You just went with it. “It was the kind of place that made you prefer not being in control of yourself. Either way, you do what they want you to do; you have no other choice but to be ready to comply.”

“I think the Devil is that part of me I can never get rid of,” he answered your old question. “If I wanted him gone, I would have to be born again.”

“Someone has been practicing.”

She nodded. “I sure did, coach.”

“That's nice, Karen,” you complimented her, finishing cooling down. “And you're doing very well. Soon, I won't want to get in your way.”

“Thanks,” She looked down and blushed.

It was your fourth class with Karen and it was clear that she was quite committed. You liked that.

“Hey, would you like to join me for drinks after our class?”

Ever since you met Karen, you have felt like you should be cautious with her. It isn't like she did anything in particular, or the lack thereof: it's more like the alarms your trust issues once set went off when she was there. There is something you can't quite place, but you would never doubt for a second that there is. However, you wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt sometimes.

Being far from you is actually a favor if you think about it.

“Thanks, but I have a date,” you declined, trying to be cordial. “Maybe some other time.”

She nodded. “Yeah, some other time.”

You rushed to leave before she finished, so she wouldn't talk to you and maybe insist on hanging out tonight. Going home is your number one priority, but when have you ever been able to go home just like that?

“I can't believe my eyes…” Fyodor spoke as soon as he had you in front of him.

“Me neither,” you replied, debating how you felt about encountering your old friend again after two years without any kind of warning. “How have you been?”

“Well, well, kotik,” he said. His accent was quite thick, and he couldn't hide his origins even if he tried. In your case, you learned languages in the Red Room and were taught how to speak them like a native so you would never raise any sort of suspicion. You were a spy, after all. “You?”

“New York kinda sucks,” You wrinkled your nose. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm doing a little something,” he answered, trying to keep the mystery as if you truly cared. “Trying not to stumble upon Svetlana, you know.”

“Best of luck with your little something, then,” You nodded, preparing to resume your walk.

“Hey, I have a few more days before I leave,” he commented. “How about dinner tomorrow?”

“Sure, yeah,” you agreed, very reluctantly but trying not to show it. “Look, I gotta go right now.”

Before he could say anything, you left him on the sidewalk and made a turn as soon as you could.

Then, you entered the first building you saw and got ready for your nightly routine to apparent safety.

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil #matt murdock #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil born again #daredevil x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x fem!reader

101 notes · View notes

finishwhatyoustarted-event · 7 months ago

Text

Finish What You Started 2024 - Event Rules

[ID copied from alt: Event Rules on a blue background. ⬒ No new projects ◨ Any medium and any fandom welcome ⬓ NSFW inclusive, warnings must be tagged ◧ Tag #FinishWhatYouStarted2024; boosting/retweeting starts September 13th ◼ Event ends October 31st, 2024]

The goal of this event is to get things done that you’ve already started. We all have unfinished projects whose incomplete status haunts us. Those are what we want to tackle!

The structure is loose, as this is a multimedia event. While primarily aimed at writers, this event is open to any kind of creative fanwork. Fics, translations, podfics, fanart, animations, cosplay - if you started it and never got it done, it qualifies. There is no sign-up required. I will not assign beta readers for writers, but I can boost requests for those who want them! And I can boost messages of those who would like to beta read.

The mod is a danmei fan mainly, but your work can be any fandom. Maybe something you started before your current fandom excitement took over, or one you keep putting off in favor of compelling new ideas.

Feel free to pass this event info along! The more the merrier!

Further rules and clarifications:

Alt text is very encouraged, especially for boost posts or artwork!

If your work is NSFW, I will only boost it if it has appropriate content warnings. Spoilering images is recommended but not required as long as it’s tagged. Do not letter-swap or abbreviate content warnings. These are so people can mute them as needed. Example: "gore" not "g0re"

Remember Tumblr can mute phrases, but each warning should be its own tag as well as in the body.

Please use genderbend or genderswap for characters depicted not as canon genders. Example: "#NSFW #genderbend #gore”

Please use Omegaverse or A/O/B for that content. The original letter order is a slur against Aboriginal peoples and will not be tolerated here, even with the slashes. It, like other racial or identity-based slurs, fall under hate speech and are thus not permitted.

This account will post weekly morale-boosting messages and helpful resources. Every Friday, starting September 13th, will be Finished It Friday. All the completed works posted that week will be boosted together in a big thread, so we can celebrate your accomplishment!

Halfway-point check-in is October 1st. Final event deadline is October 31st. The last Finished It Friday is November 1st.

FAQ:

Q: Are original works acceptable?

A: This is primarily a fanwork-focused event. If original work is the only WIP you have to work on, it's certainly fine to work on it during the time frame of the event. If it is posted publicly when finished, you may tag it for boosting.

Q: Are there any restrictions on topics?

A: No, so long as your event # post is properly & fully tagged for content (see rules about tagging above). "Dead Dove" topics are allowed. Some submissions will be 18+. For me, this is less about the content and more about finishing it.

The usual restrictions based on laws and Community Guidelines of course apply, so you may need to tailor how you post to which event space your interacting with. Twitter, Tumblr, and Discord all have their own rules. There are also some topics that are in poor taste to make fanworks around. The event organizer and mods reserve the right to not boost your work if they decide it is rage-baiting or trolling. They are not responsible for negative reactions to your works. Please be respectful of those you share a digital space with.

Keep in mind that when I link to your finished work during a Finished It Friday, it may reach a wider audience than you may be used to.

Q: Are there any restrictions on media that can be submitted?

A: Machine Generated or "AI" images and writing are not permitted. If you are found in violation of this rule, you will be removed from the event. All images, writing, or other works must be your own.

This is a positive, shared space. Do not belittle other creators' medium of choice. Please no fandom/character/ship/creator bashing, and don't berate artists or authors for not being done with something, even if they don't finish by the end of the event. Also, please don't passive-aggressively send this event to the author of an unfinished fic you want to see done faster. 😥 Be cool, respect each other, and keep any interpersonal disagreements to your own tumblrsphere.

All posts and boosts will be crossposted to the event Twitter (finishwatustart) and Discord. Expanded rules, explanations, and Dead Dove guidelines can also be found on the Discord. (invite link in pinned post)

Fics can be posted to the AO3 collection (archiveofourown(dot)org /collections /FinishWhatYouStarted2024_Fall)

Work-in-progress posts should be tagged #FinishWhatYouStarted2024 . If you complete a wip within the event, tag it #IFinishedWhatIStarted2024 for boosting so we can all celebrate!

Find more information and community on the Discord, if you want! Joining the Discord is not required for the event. As always, if you have questions, don't hesitate to reach out!

#finish what you started 2024 #finishwhatyoustarted2024 #fandom event #rules

118 notes · View notes

syrena-del-mar · 1 year ago

Text

Dead Friend Forever Is More Than Just A 90s Slasher Film Imitation

Oh man, I went in thinking I would just get a whole lot of gore and murder, and instead I'm getting a buttload of social class distinction, parental issues, mental health crises, organized crime, and a highly-likely revenge plot line.

The thing about Dead Friend Forever is that it starts unassuming, almost like an copy of all other teen slashers from the 90s. A group of friends, up in a cabin and suspects to a potential murder, become hunted one-by-one. A cliche slasher plot if I ever heard one. Until it’s not. This show is taking up a very big corner of my brain, so I’m going to delve deeper into it.

If you haven't watched episode 6 yet, spoilers up ahead.

Pulling inspiration from 90s slasher re-inventor, Scream

The first four episodes really set up the expectation that DFF was going to be another slasher, seemingly particularly influenced by Scream (1996). Scream was a turning point for slasher movies, signaling a shift in from the movies of the 80s to that of the 90s. It was the first of many movies to allow for the characters to be self-aware of what genre they're working in, where the characters knew of the slasher-movie tropes and attempted to do everything right to survive. Scream is also the first slasher to truly humanize the killers, and I don't mean by making them empathetic, but rather the killers were human, so they made human mistakes. Prior to Scream, the antagonists in slasher films were usually this supernatural villain that was just murder-hungry. But in Scream, the killers are all just regular people and would often make mistakes on their way to kill the protagonists, like a normal human would. It's why Scream was scary, the killer could be anyone, it wasn't this supernatural being. And even when you're making the right choices to escape, you still end up dead.

In Dead Friend Forever, we're getting so many of the same tropes that Scream had subverted. The group is working understanding exactly what they're facing; Fluke warning to not pull out the stake inside Por, Top wanting to split up in the temple while Phee, Jin and Tan veto against it expressly stating it would be like the horror movies, White not wanting to be left behind in the cabin. They all know what they shouldn't be doing while there is a killer on the loose. Also, it's why there's these funny little moments of the killer in DFF (i.e. having to steal the motorcycle to get back to the cabin). I'm not completely convinced that there isn't any paranormal activity or at least some type hallucinogen-component at play, but the way the killer acts is very human-like. Not to mention the parallel of Barcode (arguably the most popular actor in the show) getting slashed in the first minute of the show, eerily similar to how in the opening scene of Scream, Drew Barrymore (the most well-known of the cast) gets killed immediately.

The Benefits of Series Format versus Movie Format

The series format is where I think Dead Friend Forever is really shining the most. @wen-kexing-apologist made an awesome post on the directorial direction this show is taking, particularly in how since the first four episodes we have very little context as to why the killings are occurring or even the state of everyone's relationship, we're freely able to form opinions on each character. Similarly, prior to getting to know what happened to Non, I also thought Tee was the better one of the group. But here we are, two episodes later and I find him to be the most detestable of the bunch (which says something, when Por and Top are competing in this category).

We're seeing and experiencing the absolute hell that this friend group had actively made (sans Jin and Fluke that suffer from the bystander effect) Non's life out to be. In a regular slasher movie, especially ones that model themselves after Scream, we find out why the Killer is doing what he's doing to the victims in the last quarter of the movie, but the emotional value is a little skewed. The little amount of time we spend learning about what the victims did to the Killer usually still leaves you feeling at least a smidge of pity for the victims and some joy that the Final Girl made it. Here, the mass consensus is that each and every one of them should die.

And it comes back to the luxury of spending several episodes in a flashback to what lead up to the killings after the game of cat-and-mouse has begun. We're introduced to Non as an outsider, where everyone, but Jin, has already formed a bad opinion of Non. They already have a brutal nickname for him (read @forkaround's awesome analysis on the term 'Greasy'). They already established that he's an outsider in the classroom, but they make an active point of only referring to him as 'Greasy' and Non just accepts it. We see the friend group frame him, causing him to spiral twice to point of suicide, proceed to prey on him into a money laundering scheme, get him caught in a criminal investigation, all while already undergoing mental health treatment. We're given that time to know and see the pain that Non is caused, the manipulation that he is put under, and ultimately the devastation that they've caused.

Dead Friends Forever is more than just another teen slasher, because it has time. And it's using its time wisely, giving us bits and pieces of information in the beginning before delving into something more sinister than the killer on the loose, the original five. Run-of-the-mill bullying has turned into framing, assault and other criminal activity, even murder. And yet, while Non is the one that has disappeared (or died), the other five have been able to make a life for themselves without suffering any of the consequences. It's showing exactly what they have done to deserve everything that is coming to them.

Final Thoughts

Man, Be on Cloud is truly blowing it out of the water with this show. I'm actually a bit sad that it's only barely starting to get the recognition that it deserves, because in my opinion, it's just that good, BUT I also understand why it's had a sleepy start. It's in an place, a BL in one sense, but not exactly a BL in any other. I've said it before, but no matter what you think of BOC as a management company, the stories that they tell are unique and they have the artists that are competent enough to deliver. Be on Cloud has, allegedly, allowed the writers take the reign on the show, even if this means messing with the couples, so even more chaos is going to occur. This is, frankly, exciting to see and experience the story as they want it to be told.

I said this when I first saw Barcode in KinnPorsche deliver that heartbreaking cry, that boy knows how to cry. He was a newbie and his stole that scene. Now this is his third show under his belt and his acting chops only continue to improve, I truly can't wait to see what more he is able to do here in Dead Friend Forever. I love that Sammon is also enjoying what Barcode has able to bring forth in Non and that all her worries have been eased. I truly think that Barcode is going to have an incredible career ahead of him, whether in music or in acting.

Ta, on the other hand, also deserves his share of accolades. I wasn't sure of how to read to Phee in the first four episodes, but with the information that episode 6 has given us? The picture has cleared significantly and now, having rewatched his scenes, everything makes sense on why he seemed to be conniving. Episode 6 had some of the strongest performances and yet the biggest gasp I made was in the last minute. The singular tear rolling down Phee's cheek after having to perform the two-finger method, to have Non throw up the pills, and holding him in his arms? Quite literally jaw-dropping.

Sammon has a strong repertoire of shows, so I have complete faith that she knows what she's doing for Dead Friend Forever. I hope this becomes as much of a cult favorite, much like Manner of Death and Triage.

Anyways if you need me, I'll probably be stuck thinking about PheeNon for the next week until episode 7 airs.

#dead friend forever #dead friend forever the series #dead friend forever meta #dff meta #dff the series #barcode tinnasit #ta nannakun #copper phuriwat #pheenon #be on cloud #pheejin #tabarcode #boc actors #thai bl #thai bl meta #bl meta #steph rambles

318 notes · View notes

mullermilkshake · 6 months ago

Text

Pseudo Suguru Geto

SPOILERS

Appearances aren't always what they seem.

“Prison realm. Gate open.”

The giant square of skinless muscle opened, its singular eye wide open, showing you your fate. It glared at you, staring straight into your soul. It convulsed, vibrating like a quivering leaf.

“What- what is this?” You took a step backwards, unable to avoid its gaze, still and unnerving.

“It took so long to find you. You've been quite a nuisance.”

You recognised the voice, but it was laced with uncertainty. Would you dare to turn? Could you entertain the idea of any other eyes than the giant, ominous pupil sat in front of you?

You turned. “W-wait. No way. This can’t be-”

Suguru Geto.

You saw him die, watching on from the sidelines, his wrist going limp and drawing last breath. There was no way he could have been standing in front of you now.

But he was.

“Long time no see.” Suguru smiled, his hand moved in a gentle wave.

Geto’s eyes were there, but then, they weren’t. They didn’t have the same love they usually had. He looked the same as he did when you last met, but the line of stitches on his forehead said otherwise.

“It can’t be you.” You said, stepping back a fraction. “I saw you die I- Satoru killed-”

“Satoru isn’t the best at commitment is he?”

Suguru took a step getting much closer now, he was in arms reach. You could touch his cheek if you wanted. But this time wasn’t like those other times.

“Who are you?”

“You know who I am.”

“No. Even up to Suguru’s death, he never gave me the unease you’re giving me now.”

He chuckled, fiddling with his forehead. “ You were always so clever, weren’t you?”

You gasped, putting your hand to your mouth to stop the sickness. The top of his head came away, clean and precise. His maniacal smile never faltered.

“That’s exactly what Satoru Gojo said too. It seems I can’t fool everyone.”

A brain. His brain smiled with him, transparent goo dripped down his cheeks like it was being preserved artificially. It looked painful. You heaved and your hand clenched at your stomach in hopes to stop the chain-reaction.

Everything was fucked. This thing was parading a dead man around you, a carcass of someone you loved. Your retching turned to sobs, you pushed him away but he stayed where he was.

“Where is he, where is Satoru? What have you done with him?!”

“He’s in a safe place.” He paused, his smile still remained. “Now it’s just a matter of where to put you.”

Read more on my Ao3! <3

Minors DNI —-

64 notes · View notes

jazeswhbhaven · 6 months ago

Text

An Unslighty Guy | React | SPOILERS

WELCOME BACK TO GEHENNA LOVELIES. Let's jump right in by me saying that I love the fact that Paimon is a social media content creator. It makes complete sense for him to be. This also reminds me that it's canon that Orias is also a content creator trying out facial products/makeup etc. I wonder if he links up with Paimon and Eligos at all.

Anywayssss he's filming for the meeting that happens every 5 years, and everyone is like yeah it's noisy around this time because of Sitri and Amy....lmao

and pointing out that Eligos follows Paimon's channel is very cute. However from Mammon's event it's possible that Eligos is older than Paimon (so he'd be the senior to Paimon's junior)

so ya'll remember when Ppyong was annoyed as fuck during Chapter 6 with all of those girls at the cafe wanting a picture with him and wanting autographs, etc. It seems the same thing carries over to Hell and he can't stand popularity but he's popular anyway. He's even rude to the fans and they don't even care they just eat it up and say they'll drink toilet water for him at this rate. I'm just like HELLO? lmao

Leraye is concerned, but Paimon teases him by telling him "when you're older you'll understand why they like him so much" and that confirms Leraye is possibly the youngest out of the Gehenna nobles. I really do wish they'd come out with an age chart or something to make this shit eaiser I STG.

Then here comes these two cuties, and Astaroth tries his hand an interpreting what Zagan is saying, but he got it wrong like completely wrong lmao

It's cute because he even gets bummed about it and has to pet Apophis for comfort and I'm just like AWH HE WANTS TO TRANSLATE FOR THE BAB.

I wonder if it's just something he wants to be able to do just because or if he truly wants to help Zagan and they are close like how Paimon and Leraye are usually hanging out together all the time.

But the meeting is about to begin and Ppyong asks if Amy is showing up and well....

Sitri is great at fucking acting because the way I thought he was being foreal for a second like how everyone thought Belial was dead at the beginning of Chapter 1 lmao

Amy came in like "the fuck I am, what's good?"

I feel like personally Amy would use any and every insult known to man to throw at Sitri because he just has that much of disdain toward him and I really am itching to know why that is. I swear it's probably over something super fucking petty or small.

So we're all like omfg Sitri just sat up here and wished death on this man. Yes. Yes he did.

But they give us some insight on Amy's importance to Gehenna's army. He handles a lot of the localized battles to make sure that there's no help needed from the capital. I'm not very familiar with battle jargon so as I see simply...he's the guy that handles the little stuff so the larger scale battles can be focused on more by the other nobles and their subordinates. This sounds way more organized and detailed than our little battles don't it? Since we only have like six characters to work with lmao

But he wears Satan's jumpsuit design and so do the others in his company, so everyone knows him that way. And it turns out he's quite well liked. Sitri too.

Is it just me or is Amy taller than Sitri? I need age and height charts n a o.

But as per usual the wording always throws me off, because "hot rough older brother" should only be used if it's the friend that's calling your brother that or something because if his peers see him as a brother but also hot??? idk whatever I'm thinking too deeply.

Point being. they both hot. they both do the thing.

So Sitri is quite pissed and pretty much ignores Amy's presence and asks Astaroth why it didn't work cursing Amy to die and it's explained that you have to say it more than once for the curse to work. (cool that Astaroth knows stuff like this). So Amy starts his little mantra of wanting the poor guy dead

Since I know what he sounds like, it's funny to try to read this in his voice in my head.

Sitri ain't never missed with his clapback. I swear he was just born with the ability to roast anyone at any given moment.

(it's funny because when my cat was in heat before I got her fixed she was LOUD asf like that shit would keep me up at night)

And even more so Amy tries to tell him he was gonna sit down anyway without taking orders from him and Sitri clocked him again by saying that those who cum early talk too much and those who don't talk very seldom. Out here calling him a one pump chump.

now how do you know which one he is Sitri hm???? care to share with the class??

Anyways, Satan shows up and sees the table all fucked up and he's just happy.

He really said he here for the chaos.

He is definitely here to start some shit and it makes me laugh because that's his entire focus. He doesn't even hide that he's trying to do it. He even told Amy to break the chair from stomping around and Sitri took it as Satan getting onto him. What's funny to me is that I think Satan literally just wanted him to break furniture so Sitri has something to say about it. I'm crying.

Amy was ready to go ya'll he told Sitri to meet him outside, square up, grab his guns, saddle up, the whole nine yards. Sitri is just like well no the meeting comes first and Satan and was like "ugh fine" and decided to pay attention to important stuff lol.

Amy apparently lost this round to Sitri because Satan forgot all about the fight and focused on the meeting instead.

Also from that screencap above I'm definitely not trippin' Amy is taller than Sitri and Satan like WHAT is his height hello?

SO it's five years later and the meeting happens again, and Amy kept that energy because once Sitri came through that door?

it was on sight. lmaoooooo

Also wtf Amy why is your bosoms so big and taking up the screen. Maybe that's why you're mad because Sitri's got the badonk booty and you don't because it's all in your chesssttt.

anyways

There's more banter between these two and the other nobles are just standing by watching as per usual until Ppyong genuinely wants to know why they hate each other so much if they were in the same class when enlisted.

It also sounds like Sitri knew Satan before that and decided to become his right hand devil at the same time. Hm.

So in other words "if they keep at each others throats like that they actually like each other they just don't know how to show it"

Satan even does the "hehe now kisssssss" move

Now this little CG is adorable. Astaroth pulled out his 3D glasses, Paimon has his camera ready...I love them so much this is hilarious.

Awh grumpy Paimon is grumpy. He wanted the picture because it was gonna get a million views lmao

And Leraye is right on the money, because how did Amy and Sitri know to turn their heads at that exact moment?

clocked 'em

Satan is thirsty now because he's blissfully unware that he almost made them kiss. Sitri wants to brew tea, but Amy is like "nah we ain't got time for that I'll go on a drink run <3"

Then...

they literally became my favorite gif

So while they have their stare down, Leraye saves the day by saying it's too hot to have Sitri slave over a hot stove making tea so having Amy go on a drink run is much faster.

So he orders iced tea (iirc), Paimon wants orange juice, Astaroth???

sir wth does this even mean? like? 😭😭

Anyways while Sitri was kinda ticked off that Amy went to go fetch the drinks instead of him, he didn't really fight it that it would be faster. Amy also appreciated that everyone had his back on this decision.

Which btw he got those drinks quick asf, like where did he even find all of this?

purified water from the golden river of tartaros??? Where do they sell that? cold ade sounds like gatorade/kool-aid or something and juice yeah you can get that anywhere and cold coffee for belial and Astaroth

oh no what about my bby Zagan :(((( no drink for him?

but he even got Sitri a drink....except...

He done got this man a bottle of fucking sesame oil dressing...two fucking liters of it.

"Don't be frugal" he says.

What kinda petty ass childish shit LMAO I'd literally pour it on his head for bringing that to me. Satan laughed though so I guess that's his kind of humor, and everyone else tried to not laugh either. Sitri ofc was not amused lol but I guess Amy won this round.

So it sounds like tomorrow we will FINALLY know why they hold these meetings and why it's spread out by five years each time.

So far I'm really liking the banter between the two. It's really something. it also makes me want to really write them together b a d l y. Like there's so many things I could give the reason for why they hate each other so much.

But that's day one and two ya'll. Thankfully nothing has me off track so I can follow each day at a time ^^

See ya'll at the next react lovelies <3

#whb #what in hell is bad #jazewhbreacts🖤#whb event #whb stiri #whb amy #whb gehenna bois❤️#whb gehenna #whb screenshots #whb spoilers

84 notes · View notes

moonyasnow · 8 months ago

Text

Moony's TWST Vampire AU

Part 7: Diasomnia

Heartslabyul Savannaclaw Octavinelle Scarabia Pomefiore Ignihyde Diasomnia (you are here) Extras

(listen I know what a massive contrast this is— it's just the only official art which shows the entire Dorm together)

Special warning for this part! It WILL contain Book 7 spoilers! Such as: Lilia's past, Malleus' parents, Sebek's grandfather, and some Silver stuff

This is NOT ORGANIZED lmao Literally just unfiltered thoughts and ideas, with some short writing snippets only sneaking in by accident. Literal brainrot stuff

Also some thoughts will absolutely be longer than others I wrote most of this in like 5 hours in one sitting

It will be in 8 parts. First the dorms, and then a final one for my thoughts on some side-characters' places in this AU

Basic Rules of the Vampire AU:

A vampire is unkillable until they turn someone. As such, vampires are rare, and usually created on accident.

Vampires can't die of starvation. They can sure try, and by god will it hurt, but it can't kill them.

Vampires can drink liquids that aren't blood, though they get no nutrients from it, but they cannot ingest food. If they try to eat normal food, they just throw it up, their bodies rejecting it entirely.

They can drink any blood that is not from another vampire.

Malleus

Malleus was one of the rare few to be BORN a vampire. It is theorized that his family is the one which all current vampires can trace their affliction back to. Though older than all turned vampires in this AU, with the exception of Lilia, he is still considered quite young as far as pureblooded vampires go. Millenia before modern times, there were many born vampire families, though they have all since perished. It just so happens that the Draconia bloodline had some unique power which made them able to grant some small part of their powers to others— hence why the turned vampires stemming from the Draconia bloodline are some of the few traces left of the race of born vampires as a whole.

Him being a pureblooded vampire, and the last of his ancient kind— which humans, through witch-hunts and crusades and pogroms, hunted to near-extinction— means that he is assured to be the last. For even if, by some miracle, he produces an heir— which would have to be with a human, as all turned vampires are well and truly dead, yet a human and vampire having a child is still difficult— that child would still only ever be half.

It is…a crushing weight, to have to live with.

An unspeakable sorrow, so much bigger than one vampire's, never mind a human's, life. An entire history, come to an end. Lost forever to the hands of time.

And Malleus isn't ready to face it. So he studies. He travels across the globe to any ancient settings he can find with any hint of having been touched by his kind. All in order to gain more information to compile. To be closer to the faceless kin he has lost. Chasing the ghosts of ancestors whose names he will never know, or if he does, never be able to properly pronounce, for their names were from long-since dead languages whom no one could possibly pronounce accurately, the modern equivalents having changed far too much to still sound the same.

He cannot stop to ask himself 'why'.

Because if he does, if he questions if his work matters, he will question if anything matters.

He grew up with Lilia's tales of his mother, of his father, his grandmother, grandfather… Tales of them are all he has. While he doesn't need to fear Lilia reaching the end of his un-life naturally in this AU, he is still aware the day could come.

Ironically for the man with the longest life left to live, he is the one who spends the most time running from oblivion.

On a more neutral note, as a born vampire, his taste in blood is a lot pickier than that of a turned vampire. Unlike turned vampires, who can subsist on basically any kind of blood, Malleus has to drink the blood of mortals. And even amongst them, he has a preference for blood type.

Lilia

Lilia is one of the oldest vampire-spawn in the world. Perhaps the oldest. He is almost two millennia old at this point. And he watched the last Draconia fall seven centuries ago. He was turned by Malleus' mother, Maleanor.

Though in a way, because of it, Lilia blames himself for her death. Maleanor could be killed because she had turned Lilia. Pureblooded vampires can still be killed after they have turned someone. Because it is, in essence, giving away a part of their power to another. If that turned vampire dies, all that power returns to the born vampire. But the same is also true in reverse— at least to some extent.

So, while he isn't as powerful as a born vampire like Malleus, he is very close to it.

With Lillia being so close to many mortals' stereotyped view of vampires, he often 'jokes' about being a vampire with people he runs into at the concerts he goes to.

He's the one of the 'old vampire guard' to be the most open to potentially positive interaction with mortals. It took time, especially considering mortals in the past hunted his closest friends and their families to their deaths. It took raising Malleus, and later Silver, for him to realize— as he, through them, realized just how innocent children are, and their parents' actions have nothing to do with them— that the current generation of mortals shouldn't be blamed for what their ancestors did.

As the mass hysteric fear of vampires has long since died out, and the vampires known to be living in the Coral Sea aren't viewed with as much hostility as vampires were back in in his day, he has hope that things can change.

And speaking of the old days...

Back when he was a fledgling, it was considered a massive honor to be a turned vampire. That meant you were considered someone trusted by a born vampire— born vampires had naturally risen to the top of the hierarchy at the time due to their sheer power when compared to other species of fae. Because a born vampire turning you still meant that you now had the power to kill them. It was a mark of close frienship, that the born vampire trusted you enough to share their power and near immortality with you, and to be vulnerable because of you.

There was no such thing as 'accidentally created' turned vampires, as born vampires possessed much greater control of their venom.

Also! Vampires are just one species of fae, which in this AU I have decided are rolled together of the in-game races which Malleus and his mother and grandmother, Baul and Raverne were.

Other types of fae, like the fairies who take over the NRC Greenhouse in the Fairy Gala event, as well as the dwarves from RSA, are still fae, but not vampires.

Silver

Silver is the last in an old lineage of vampire hunters. Think, the Belmonts, from the Castlevania series.

The lineage was believed to have been wiped out when Malleus' mother died, taking all known members of the family with her before she succumbed.

He's around 5 years younger than Sebek, at least physically speaking. Because, just like the 'didn't drink the last drop of poison' metaphor I used in Idia's part, Silver was somehow grazed by a vampire as a baby.

But instead of doing what it did to either Idia or Ortho, it just put him in the same death-like sleep as Ortho, however for much, much longer; hundreds of years. Though as he was a baby, he never noticed any of that time passing. And as stated in Ortho's part, as turning children just isn't done, no one is sure why such strange things do happen in the rare cases it's attempted.

And miraculously enough, he somehow managed to fight off the sickness that would have turned him.

It's unclear if this means he's now immune to whatever pathogen turns one into a vampire or not. Silver hopes that isn't the case; he wants to become a vampire when he's fully grown, so that he can have more time to spend with his family, who are all vampires— not to mention more power to protect them.

Lilia wants to continue the tradition from his youth, of turned vampires being highly respected due to the close bond with a born vampire— Briar Valley's rulers— that it implies.

Sebek

Sebek is one of the few half-vampires to ever exist.

Or, well, his mother is a half-vampire. He is thus 1/3d vampire. In terms of power, it's about on-par with a turned vampire.

But he, Sebek, of the once proud Zigvolt vampire lineage, is nothing like those fledglings. He was born a vampire, after all.

The day Silver is turned is one he fears subconsciously. For what would it mean, for a mere human, to come to be considered on par with the great Lilia? Sebek obviously knows Lilia wasn't born a vampire— he was turned. But he is old…ancient, even. He was there with the Draconias during the fall of their society. Not to mention And in a way…him not being a born vampire, yet still having so much status in what remain of the vampire courts of old, gives him hope that he, too, might one day be considered great. Not a 'half-spawn', who, he once heard his mother recount from the words of his great-grandfather, 'doomed the race.'

Oh yeah Baul is Sebek's mother's grandfather in this AU. Baul's child had Sebek's mother with a human, and she, in turn, had Sebek with a human father. I had to make it fit with the timeline while also keeping Baul as fully vampire. I don't make the rules (I literally do—)

But at that point, if his mother HAD had a child with another born vampire— before all but Malleus remained— it would probably have ended with a lot of inbreeding to try to keep their vampire blood 'pure'.

"Perhaps," Lilia had once suggested to him, "the born vampires of old's unwillingness to have children with humans is part of the reason why they have been all but wiped out. You only exist because you mother, and your mother's parent, made an exception to that widely excepted rule."

Sebek wasn't— and still isn't— quite ready to accept that yet. He grew up glorifying the old days of vampire-kind, rather than Malleus who simply wished to collect and preserve any knowledge left behind to know something, anything, of his ancestors. Sebek idealized it as what he should be.

#moony's twst vampire au #twst #twisted wonderland #twst au #twst vampire au #diasomnia #malleus draconia #👁️👁️hngggg...dragon boy #lilia vanrouge #silver vanrouge #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #moony's writing

61 notes · View notes

k0iy0 · 6 months ago

Text

Don't Leave(You Always Do)

Trafalgar Law x Reader

4,181 words

Fair warning this is pure angst/no comfort and highly self-indulgent.

Some swearing, spoilers, a brief panic attack, and grief/mourning. Reader is a Heart Pirate, has passed away and has female pronouns.

Cross posted on Ao3:

-----------

Summary:

Law hates you. He hates the way you smile, hates the way your laugh sounds. The way your eyes twinkle in amusement, how observant you can be. He hates it when you make him the butt of your jokes, something the rest of the crew wouldn’t dare, and he hates how easily he lets you get away with it. How easily you’ve crept into his heart, chipping at his walls and settling in, with no intention of leaving. You’re pirates, and yet, the way you gaze at him with that knowing look, as if Law was some open book, always being considerate of his space but somehow just knowing when he needs someone-needs you. Law doesn’t deserve it. He hates it, really. The vulnerability, your kindness, the truth.

The truth is that Law loves you, that he will always love you even when you’re dead and gone and Law hates that once again, the person he loves had died without ever hearing those words from him.

Law hates that he never realized until it was too late.

-----------

This is a dream. Law knows this, he’s been through these so many times he can’t even count. But he doesn’t care. Not if it means he can see you again. Law stands there, just watching you, as if afraid moving an inch will make the dream fade. You’re as short as he remembers, something he’d poke fun at just to start your usual playful banter. He observes your features, letting you approach him instead. He doesn’t know when he’ll get to see you again, the dreams of you are fleeting and only return in what seems like once a year. In typical dreamlike fashion, the fine details are fuzzy, but he can still make out the things he remembers, like the curve of your nose, the kind look in your eyes, and the curl of your lips that he’s come to love oh-so-much. A smile you’d show only to him.

At first, the dreams were frequent, almost nightmarish in a way. Your death a fresh wound in his now empty heart, Law often woke in sweats every night. Sometimes he dreamt that you were alive, an apparition only Law could see and everyone thought he was crazy. You never spoke in those dreams. Other times brought him back to your death, how he missed being able to save you, missed hearing your last words. Your last breath. The worst ones were when he’d find himself back on that damned snowy island, body small and weak and cold-and so so utterly useless as he watches you lay in the bloodied snow surrounded by black feathers, eyes closed with a content expression.

At the time, he thought those were the worst. Time moved on, as did he, physically, at least. The days turned to weeks and weeks to months and Law found his dreams of you dwindling from every night to every couple of nights to a couple of weeks until it seemed that he only saw you in his dreams once in a few months. It was for the best, really. He had a crew to lead, pirates to take down, and a goal to accomplish. Things he’ll have to do without you from now on.

Law had thought it was over, no more dreams of you to keep him up at night, no distractions.

And like everything that Law experiences, he was wrong.

-----------

It was different, the dream. He hadn’t realized it was a dream at first, though there were signs he should’ve noticed. The unnaturally lit room, the washed yet bright colors, and the way the room’s layout and furniture never stayed consistent. Those were easy to ignore when he saw you, sitting so calm and at ease, chatting with the crew like you had never left.

Law stumbles into the room, staring at you with wide eyes. You looked as young as he remembered when he first met you. You were even wearing the outfit before they got you your boilersuit. Law doesn’t approach, he can’t . He thought you were…? Were what? He doesn’t remember. Someone pops up from behind him.

“Captain!” Law looks at Penguin from the corner of his eyes.

“Look at this,” Penguin shuffles to stand before Law, holding something in his hands. “It’s her new bounty!” Penguin announces, showing the piece of paper excitedly. Law blinks. Did you get a new bounty? Golden eyes scan the writing, an approving smirk on his lips. Your picture was the same, though Law's attention was on your new bounty. It wasn’t much, but it was certainly more than the previous.

“Or, at least, it could have been.” The smirk falls. What? Suddenly, both Penguin and the bounty disappear, though Law doesn't question it. Law glances at you, still chatting with Ikkaku(was Hakugan always sitting with them?), and you’ve yet to notice him. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off you. Something’s wrong and he doesn’t know what but he feels like if he lets you out of his sight then you’ll disappear forever, which would be silly because you’re sitting right in front of him -

“Captain, guess what I’ve got!” Shachi exclaims, blocking you from sight. Law is miffed that his view of you is obstructed but peers down at what Shachi is trying to show him. Law blinks. It was a bounty poster. Your bounty poster.

“Penguin already showed me this.” Law says unamused, looking at Shachi who only shakes his head in response.

“No, no, that was an old one.” Shachi corrects, straightening the poster and Law takes another glance. Wasn’t the other one fairly new? Why would you have another one already?

Law freezes, his brows furrowing at the poster. His eyes flicker from your new picture to your new bounty. Never mind the much, much higher bounty(two hundred million berries??), it was your picture that confused Law. You looked older, more mature. Your hair had grown a lot longer, and you had that piercing you said you’ve always wanted. Your cheeks were slimmer, eyes sparkling with a sense of maturity and wisdom, and if the picture wasn't wearing your signature mischievous expression that Law knew so well, he wouldn't have known it was you. You didn’t look like the young girl he had picked up from that island way back when.

“Shachi,” Law starts, not taking his eyes off the poster. “What is this?”

“Well, had she lived, this is what could’ve happened.” Law’s gaze snaps to Shachi, who, like Penguin, vanished into nothingness along with the bounty poster.

Law frowns. Something was definitely wrong. ‘Had she lived?’ But she was right there -

Law’s eyes snap back to where you were sitting, and he lets out a sigh of relief. You were talking to Bepo now(weren’t you sitting on the other side earlier?) and Law chides himself for listening to Penguin and Shachi’s weird talk. He makes to approach, but when he blinks he finds himself in bed.

Law lays there, heart thumping in anticipation as his mind races at the thought of you. He needs to congratulate you on your new bounty. He sits up, a hint of a smile on his face as he thinks about seeing you again, and wow he was so weird for thinking that something had happened to you-and then reality hits him as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

Oh.

It was a dream.

He stares at your bounty poster, your real bounty poster, that he had on his wall. It’s old by a couple of years but it’s not like you’ll get an updated one. They probably don’t even print your bounty anymore. There’s no need to, anyway.

It hurt to look at, a reminder of what he had lost. How he failed you. But despite that, Law can't bring himself to get rid of it. Not when it's one of the only things he has left of you.

Not when it's the only way to remember how you looked, your features would be lost to time otherwise.

Bare feet meet cold flooring as Law swallows the bitter disappointment and anguish, standing to his feet.

That… was new. And it felt so real. Law sighs, running a hand through his messy hair. He rubs his face, his groans muffled by his hands. He thought he was done with these dreams of you, and now he’s dreaming that you’re still alive and well as if nothing happened and it’s making him so goddamn hopeful and-

It’s a cruel joke, that’s what it is.

A cruel, fucking joke.

Law resumes his day as if nothing happened, and it isn’t another few months when the dream and hurt have faded that it repeats all over again.

-----------

Like Cora-san, you crept into his heart, easily breaking down the walls he had meticulously built over the years, revealing the traumatized little boy who never truly escaped the horrors of Flevance. Of Minion Island. Made him feel loved, even if he didn’t realize it right away.

And just like Cora-san, you’re taken from him far too early.

-----------

Law wakes up in his bed, staring at his familiar ceiling. Nothing unusual. He blinks and Law finds himself in his office, already dressed for the day. It’s fine, he tells himself. The days blur together sometimes. He takes a seat, there’s paperwork to be done and he’s been putting it off in favor of the alliance. A tattooed hand reaches for his pen but stops midway, brows furrowing. That… doesn’t make sense. Before he can ponder any longer about the oddity of the situation, someone bursts into his office.

“Didn’t I tell you idiots to knock beforehand?” Law scowls, hating the interruption. Golden eyes flicker to the door, glaring at the offender before faltering at their alarmed demeanor.

“Captain!” Bepo cries out dramatically, winded from running to Law’s office. A furry paw grasps the door frame as the polar bear mink attempts to catch his breath. Law stiffens when Bepo utters your name. “She-She’s here! On the deck!”

Law stands, and he doesn’t question how he’s somehow immediately on the deck, the bright sun shining down on him, yet he felt no warmth. He ignores it in favor of seeing you after so long. Law doesn’t actually believe it, because, well, you’re dead. He saw your lifeless self with his own two eyes, held you with his own hands, Law knows you're gone. Had he been a second faster, had he been stronger, maybe he could’ve done something and you’d still be with him today.

Maybe he could have said goodbye.

And so, while Law does not believe that you have risen from the afterlife in some way, he can’t take any chances. Not when he could finally hear your voice utter his name once more. Or watch the way your eyes light up when you see him. Law will take looking like a fool if it means having you back.

He huffs like he ran a mile to get to the deck, breath hitching when he sees you. You’re leaning against the railing, looking out into the sea, like you always do when the Polar Tang surfaces. And then you notice him, posture straightening as you make your way to him, eyes beaming at the sight of him, lips upturned into that beautiful and breathtaking grin of yours. Law’s chest tightens, feeling heavy and all of a sudden he can’t breathe , and everything hurts . His eyes shut, mouth agape as he gasps for breath. A hand shoots to clutch at his chest, as if it would will the air into his lungs and hedoesn’tknowwhattodonothingismakingsense-

“You okay?” Law looks up, realizing he was hunched over. He takes a moment, his breathing returning to normal. His hand drops to his side as he stands upright, refusing to take his eyes off you. He was fine. He always is when you’re with him. Law gazes down at you(did you always look this young?), not quite believing his eyes. Years have passed and you don’t look like you’ve aged a single day. You’re staring at him with that observant look, like he was the one who needed to be taken care of. Comforted. Law swallows the lump in his throat. There are so many things he wants to say. To ask.

“You’re dead.” Is what he ends up blurting out. That’s… not any of the things that he wanted to say. But you’re not offended, you never are. You simply blink at him, laughing that little laugh of yours(and it’s music to his ears if he’s honest) before responding.

“Well, I’m right here, aren’t I?” And you’re right, as always. But Law doesn’t realize your lips don’t quite match up with your words. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

“Where?” He asks, because there’s no way he’s spent these past years thinking you were dead when you were right here the whole time . You tilt your head at his question, deciding on an answer.

“I stayed at a previous island,” And Law frowns. It’s not an acceptable answer, you can’t just leave (or, well, stay behind) and not say anything . “I needed some time to myself.”

“Why… why did you make everyone believe you were dead? It’s been years.” Law was confused. Everything you were saying made no sense. It wasn’t like you to do any of these things.

You shrug.

“It wasn’t my intention but… it just happened.” He doesn’t care anymore. What matters is that you’re back. And for good. Law reaches to touch your face.

“Don’t do it again, alright? I-”

Law shakes awake. It’s dark, but he could see bits of the rising sun shining through the ship’s porthole. Law’s breathing is heavy. Right. You were back. Somewhere. Law should… he should go find you. Reprimand you for abandoning your crew. For abandoning him. He sighs, pushing the covers off of himself. Law freezes. This was not his bed. The faint sound of snoring makes Law’s gaze snap up. His blood runs cold.

Law was losing it. He dashes out of the room, not particularly caring if he woke any of them. He finds refuge in the bathroom-the only place of privacy on this goddamn ship. Shaking hands grip the edge of the sink as Law attempts to steel himself, staring at his reflection. He was pale, sweating and panting like he’d seen a ghost-a thought he scoffs at. He needs to focus. Doflamingo is right there , and he cannot afford any distractions right now. Trafalgar Law does not have such luxuries.

“Fuck this…” Law rubs his face, hands gripping his dark hair and the urge to scream, to just laugh at his own naivety and stupidity is strong. Yet he holds himself back. It was his fault, after all. Believing in an idiotic dream such as that -that you just… let everyone think you were dead for years while you lived some boring, mundane life on some remote island.

It was stupid. This was stupid.

He was stupid.

…

You’re never coming back.

-----------

It’s hard.

It’s hard knowing you’ll never get to experience what he has, to see what he has seen, to meet the people who helped him like you had wanted to all those years ago. And you did, whether you knew it or not-he regrets never telling you, never giving you his thanks.

Sometimes, when it’s late into the night and Law has no work, no strategizing, no idiotic Straw Hat to distract annoy him, Law’s thoughts drift to you. To Cora-san. And he’s grateful to the both of you, really. Would the both of you be proud? Honestly, Law doesn’t know what either of you saw in him, to love him so deeply to the point of laying your lives for him, and he doesn’t know if he ever will.

“Don’t ever attach a reason to the love you’ve received!!!”

Law smiles at that, maybe he doesn’t need to know the reason, if there ever was one.

-----------

And now Law knows better, that it’s just a dream when he sees you. He wonders if he’s used to it by now, or if his mind is simply tired of the meltdowns he has every time he wakes up. It was like losing you all over again. And again. And again .

Knowing better, Law doesn’t dare move. The moment he moves, Law wakes up and he’s forced back into the reality where you don’t exist. He wants this to last. There are things he wants to tell you, even if it’s not really you. So much has happened since you left( since you last visited his dreams ) and with every fiber in his being Law wishes you had been there to see it. See how far he’s come, how much he’s grown, how much he loves you .

And so, he stands there, gazing at you with a longing that only intensifies as time passes. And you stare back, studying him like you always did-a supporting smile, and kind, understanding eyes. You were so young back then, all of them were, young and reckless rookies from the North Blue.

At one point, Law had entertained the idea, only briefly, if he had said no. Left you on your home island, heading to the Grand Line without you. Maybe you’d still be alive. Coming home from work to your family. Would you have gotten married? Have children? Grow old? Perhaps you’d have joined a different pirate crew, you always gravitated towards adventure after all. But such thoughts were useless, so he paid them no mind, tucking them somewhere deep inside.

Law calls out your name, voice soft and tender and so uncharacteristic of him but you don’t notice, or maybe you’re used to it, maybe he’s always spoken that way with you. You tilt your head, a sign you were listening. There’s a void of white surrounding the two of you, but the background doesn’t matter, not when you’re the most important thing here.

“I missed you,” He murmurs, resisting the urge to just reach out and touch you. You never get too close in these dreams. Never say his name, not even his title, always referring to him as ‘you.’

“It’s been so long.” Too long , he thinks. So much time has passed. He’s sure you’d make fun of the way he ended up growing out his goatee and sideburns, or how he’s no longer that stupid teenager with voice cracks. You’d gawk at how much taller he’s gotten, how many tattoos he’s marked himself with, and in return, he wonders what kind of woman you’d have grown to be.

Would you have grown your hair out? Cut it shorter? Law had always scoffed at the fact you could never decide. Piercing? Sure. Another one? Maybe not. Actually, maybe yes. Did you really want a tattoo or was it because you walked by the shop? Ah, that was a cute hairclip but you already have so many… With a dejected look, you depart from it(Law bought it for you as soon as you left the shop).

“Has it?” You reply, as if unaware of the future snatched away from you.

And the conversation continues, Law tells you of his journey, keeping out the grotesque parts of course. You listen like you’ve always done, and he rambles on, watching your reaction. You smile and nod your head at his words but you don’t react quite like he expects you to. Like how you would, if it was really you. And Law’s jaw clenches. Because you’re just a memory at this point. His memory.

You can lie and lie and lie about how you’re still alive, still breathing, that you’ll be back soon, and that you’re simply away on some island or on some fetch quest of his but what you can’t do is tell him the truth-that you’re dead and gone, buried six feet under( with his own hands ), and that you’ll never, ever come back.

Not like how he wants.

Your lies are the truth he wants but the truth he gets is nothing but his empty heart, your empty corpse, and an empty future without you by his side.

His memory of you can’t possibly comprehend the future you’ll never experience. Nor can it tell him the things that the real you never said. Not truthfully, anyway.

Law stops talking, too caught up in his thoughts-too distraught at the fact that he’s in a dream chasing a memory of you like some goddamn addict and it’s so fucking pathetic because why can’t he just move on and every time he thinks he’ll be okay you come back and feed him those sweet, sweet lies and-

“Law, stop it.” He feels your hands(but there is no warmth) reach to cup his cheeks and he automatically bows down slightly to accommodate your shorter frame.

This is new. You’ve never… you’ve never called his name before, much less cross the invisible barrier between you. And you’re looking at him with so much love and concern and it makes Law momentarily forget that everything is just a dream and suddenly it’s all too much- everything is too much and he just. Collapses.

His face twists into despair, gasping as he falls to his knees. His hand grabs ahold of your shirt with a vice-like grip like he’s trying to keep you from leaving again.

“Please don’t leave. Just stay. Stay with me.” He pleads, and nothing can stop the words from pouring out. Nothing to stop his grief. He doesn’t even know when he’s started crying.

“I don’t want to go back. Not without you. Come back with me. Please.” He begs and begs and begs but he already knows that no amount of begging could ever release you from death’s embrace.

“You know I can’t do that.” You kneel down in front of him but his grip doesn’t relent. He doesn’t want to let go. He can’t . Why can’t you just lie? Lie to him that you’ll go with him, to your crew, to your home. That you’ll continue to go on adventures with him, make up for the lost time until the both of you are old and wrinkled, and maybe you’ll settle on some remote island and live out the rest of your days.

“I love you,” He chokes out, and it’s embarrassing and humiliating because now he’s so much older than you than he was before and he’s stuck confessing to a memory of you when so many years have already passed and it’s just so, so pathetic , but it isn’t enough to stop him. “I love you so much it hurts-and I miss you, I miss you being in my life.”

“I’ll do anything so just-just come back .” Law wants to touch you, hold your hand, pull you close and never let go but he’s afraid to push his luck when he’s already lucky to have you calling his name and be as close as you were.

“Let’s get married,” He blurts out. “I-we don’t have to be pirates anymore, there’s an island I’ve been to and I think you’d love it there. The people are nice and I’d like you to meet some of them and-and it’d be safe there .” He rambles reasons because there would be no Marines, no pirates, no danger. And even if there was, Law would be by your side. He can protect you this time.

He’ll give up his dreams for you. But what he doesn’t realize, is that you are the dream he has to give up.

He sits there hunched over and on his knees, clutching to the front of your shirt like it was a lifeline. It’s quiet, save for his sobbing. You don’t say anything, nor do you move to touch him, to hold him, to comfort him like you would have. Law glances up at you, vision blurry but still able to see your beautiful face as clear as day. His peripherals take note of your white shirt, the white void, and the unnatural white light that envelopes you. And if Law was some poet, he would sing about the symbolism of it all, but he’s not. It was just a dream.

“I’m sorry,” You break the silence, placing a gentle hand on his fist. “I wish I could-”

“But you can , just-just leave with me and we’ll, and we’ll be fine.” He interrupts, unable- unwilling to hear your rejection.

You just sigh, like when you were sick of Penguin and Shachi’s shit, but the kind look doesn’t waver from your eyes.

“I’ll be with you,” And Law almost perks up at that. “Just… not in the way you want.”

Law knows this, but it still hurts. He says nothing, instead trying to cherish this pitiful delusion with you. Silence surrounds the two of you, but instead of being comforting like it normally was, it is deafening.

“Is this it? The last time I’ll get to see you?” Law asks, a sense of finality looming over the tender moment.

You hum in thought. “Do you want it to?”

Law doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want it to, he wants to keep seeing you, doesn’t want to say goodbye but he honestly doesn’t know if he could do this anymore.

The chance to say anything is taken from him, his body pulling him from the dream.

Law wakes up peacefully. There's no false hope, nor is there any cold revelation. He's already aware of the dream and what lies within, and he takes a moment to process it fully before it disappears to the back of his mind. His heart was heavy but a part of him also felt at peace, weirdly enough. He lets out a shaky sigh, a hand rising to rub at his face only to find it stained with tears. He frowns, wiping away at them before rolling over and burying his face into the sheets.

It was fine.

He’ll be fine.

He’ll get to say his goodbyes next time, if there is one.

#one piece #op #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar one piece #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar d law #x reader #fem reader #reader insert

46 notes · View notes

dvasva · 1 year ago

Text

Tbh? I think the radiant emperor duology deserves more critique than it gets in its tag, so after stewing it over for a couple weeks and also discussing it with my friend, I have decided to do it myself.

So. Spoilers for She Who Became the Sun and He Who Drowned The World ahead.

First off, so nobody accuses me of hating the series, I liked the series. I'd say I'd give the first book a 4.5/5, I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I like both books. I truthfully skipped the fisting scene, it triggered some dysphoria that I wasn't comfortable with personally but I don't have problem with it existing in the book, it's good where it is, no changes.

No, my critiques come mostly from the second book, hwdts. Which sucks because I absolutely loved Baoxiang in it, it's a well known fact that my ideal type is pretty, really mean, characters. ('What about Madam Zhang?!!!???!? Shes mean and pretty!!' I hear you ask. Give it a second cause i will get to my beloved madam zhang) So, my critiques are mostly organized as 'The first part I didn't like in Hwdtw that signals the thing that became my biggest issue, the bits in the middle that i did like along with the bits that I felt didn't really work well, and Act 3 which is where my issues really were exacerbated.'

By the end of book one, I had a general annoyance but acceptance that Ma Xiuying was a bit of a weak character, and not weak as in 'dang shes a woman and cant fight' or any other sexist way you may interpret that, but weak as in structurally, she didn't really have as much depth as other characters. I thought she didn't have as much time put into her character as others. And yeah you could have a million character analysis essays over Ma and her place in the story and etc, but for me, her setup for the next book as potentially having conflict with Zhu or her own morals was the most interesting part of Ma. In general I think a lot of people tend to overlook this flaw partly because Ma is a cis lesbian character and the main 'love interest' in a book that is usually marketed to people as sapphic, which yeah there is certainly a sapphic relationship in the book but I think saying it's a major part of the book is really giving the relationship a load bearing wall ot isn't strong enough to carry. The Radiant Emperor Duology is not a romance, first and foremost. To describe it as a wlw romance is gonna leave people who read ot specifically for that reason kinda dissappointed by the end of book 2.

My big critiques didn't start until book two, and a particular scene, though. Ma, at the start of book two, was generally filling the niche of 'nagging wife' to zhu, which yknow, is a fine place to start from. I was a little disappointed there was no further discussion of Ma's disapproval of the morality of Zhu's actions, and in fact the dead child was pretty much entirely forgotten by Ma in favor of being Zhu's wife. Which, yknow, sure.

The Scene I had issue with happened (Spoilers once again) after Zhu finally captures Ouyang and imprisons him at her base of operations. Ma, dressed in her empressly regalia enters his room with the intention of being the bigger person. She walks in, looks at the stripped down and humiliated general who killed her father and famously is also really a women hater, and tells him she forgives him for killing her father. And then she gets upset and cries when the prideful general who hates women gives her a dressing down and taunts her and is like 'I'm glad I killed your father'? She nearly cries because Ouyang was mean to her (notably only cause he was mean to her and didn't gracefully accept her forgiveness, not because he killed ehr father) and runs off to Zhu. And Zhu responds with 'Wow, he's just a weirdo, everyone likes you and everyone in existance immediately knows you're a good person and you change people.' Which, my friend suggested before she finished the book, was a case of Zhu placating Ma and dismissing her feelings which would be an interesting dynamic.

Really my hangups with this scene come from multiple parts.

1. Ma' few character traits including being observant and reading people really well (a thing she's praised for in book 1) and having good social intuition are completely thrown out by her thinking being alone with ouyang and forgiving him would be a good idea and then her being shocked and upset when he spat on her forgiveness. And

2. Zhu's response is never once treated by the text as her dismissing Ma and placating her, and Zhu's statement despite never being shown to be true before and that moment being the first time it's ever mentioned, ends up becoming Chekov's moral purity by the end of the book, where the plot hinges on Ma being able to magically heal a damaged character's mind enough for Zhu to win in the end. Which I will get back to. There's a lot of other stuff happening between here and the end.

So, before I get back to Ma and her role in the story, I'll address some other bits from after this scene. Both problems and things I enjoyed generally.

Madam Zhang and her parallels to Baoxiang and her being the absolute queen of dissociating really was interesting (before act 3). She was a very compelling character who I completely understood and felt positively about. She had a way more interesting relationship with gender imo than Ma did, especially in book 2. I didn't really like that she was overwhelmingly shown having sexual villence done to her, that felt weirdly like a punishment. But, I did like her a whole bunch, and I liked the look we got into her head. She was probably my second, maybe third, favorite character in the whole book until Act 3.

I really, really liked Ouyangs dynamic and relationship with Zhu. The weird sexual tension between them, their weird kinda nonsexual but also kinda very sexual S&M relationship. It was somehow the most sensual, sexual part of a book that featured Madam Zhang having sex with multiple people, and Zhu going down on Ma, and a lot of other mentions of sex or scenes involving sex. Tbh I feel like, in a way, Ma was left to the sidelines for most of the book because Ouyang became the primary 'love' interest for a hot second there and the only reason Ma could get her spot back was Ouyang and Zbu's separation. Also, from what I've seen when people talk about this book, they always kinda try to express Zhu and Ouyang's dynamic as very nonsexual and nonromantic, as platonic mostly. And there is no inherent superiority of romantic over platonic, but I think to insist that it is only platonic, and not a strange swirl of romantic, platonic, sexual, frustration and relief, and a swirl of familiarity and vulnerability all wrapped into one, is doing the dynamic a bit of a disservice. And ther is, imo, very clearly a subtle hint of romantic intent and interest on Ouyang's part before he realizes Zhu has a body he hates.

Which is also another point I didn't like. Ouyang and Zhu's relationship end felt off. The entire bit with the pirates felt off, but especially how Ouyang found out about Zbu's body, and how Zhu reacted. I think Ouyang finding out second hand, from a combination of being suspicious and from Jiang saying it, was a poor way for that to be revealed. I think there was a better way for that to happen that woyld have felt more like a betrayl to zhu than this did. The fact that Zhu and Ouyang were so in tune and could see each other perfectly, but this one thing was a blind spot for both of them because of how unaffected by gender Zhu was compared to how overaffected by gender Ouyang was is a really interesting thing to explore, an interesting disconnect between two character's whose entire basis for their relationship is 'like recognizes like'. I think Zhu seeing it as a betrayl would have been more impactful if she had presented this informatuon to Ouyang herself and been rejected than how it went down. And, I think her not realizing Ouyang would be disgusted that he felt connected and felt a sameness to someone with a body he found grotesque and that he feared would have been more interesting for zhu, who views herself outside of womanhood and didnt really think that other people would not see her outside of womanhood, if she was the one who told ouyang herself.

Also, less importantly, think going into Ouyangs annoyance that zhu kept moving his target further away was a good move but it wasn't expanded on as much for my taste. I also really liked it when (spoiler) Xu Da dies, and that entire part despite some minir bits, was extremely good in that Zhu finally has tasted loss. She had, up until that point, been riding a wave of positivity, she was the underdog who won over and over again despite all the odds and despite her own reckless choices. So I did appreciate that everything went wrong for her at least once. that would have been, imo if other things were changed, a good place to end a book two in a three book series. Which will make sense as to why I mention it im a bit.

I also didn't like how Ma was nonexistant unless the plot was like 'ok we need to remind people that Ma exists.'

And there's of course other stuff but those are the main points of acts 1 and 2 that i wasn't fond of or that i liked.

Act 3 is a wholely different behemoth which can be encapsulated with 'I wish it was longer but also different' (courtesy of the convo my friend and I had).

My friend and I both agreed that we liked this kind of courtly drama game it was playing. My friend doesn't tend to like the structure or writing style of a lot of the chinese wuxia, danmei, or courtly drama translated books i read, so it was nice to know that the genre content isn't the issue for her there.

The biggest problems I had with the ending though was 1. I think Baoxiang and Ma had an interesting dynamic despite it being really rushed and how distasteful I found the entire concept of Ma being such a good wholesome goody good good person that she could change Baoxiang, quiet his demons and fix him in some way. That was annoying in an otherwise interesting dynamic. And 2. I think Madam Zhang's character traits and cleverness and all that were wiped away to make her inexplicably jealous of Ma in a way that I don't think fit her character and just served to fit a trope of jealous empress who hates the favored concubine.

So, here's my major proposed changes.

1. Ma gets sent to Khanbaliq extremely early on. Like, act one maybe after ouyang is captured early. This serves three purposes. A. Ma has something to do and is more present in the story. this could be a good xhance to let her actually feel frustrated or upset at Zhu in some tangible way that needs to be resolved or talked thru eventually. B. she gets more time to build a relationship with Baoxiang, whose entire defeat hinges on him having a strong connection with her. and C. Her absence in the other parts of the book feel less like she's being ignored or forgotten. It makes Zhu's lack of haste more than just a way to annoy Ouyang, and turns it into an interesting moral choice. Should she rush to Khanbaliq to save Ma or trust that Ma will be ok in favor of gaining power? Her lack of haste means Ouyang leaves, depressed, and she loses Xu Da, all while she doesn't even have the assurance that Ma is ok, she is truly at her lowest point with nobody with her. If Ma is in Khanbaliq and that's explored, then Zhu and Ouyang can also explore their dynamic without Ma feeling a bit like she is battling for Zhu's attention.

2. Madam Zhang is suspicious of Ma, or feels actually tangibly threatened by Ma. In act 3, Madam Zhang's anger towards Ma feels really out of place. She got exactly what she wants, she is empress, her emperor isn't interested in removing her from her position and her position isn't threatened by anyone. Baoxiang won't get rid of her, he won't demote her, he has shown zero sign of ever even considering it. So, why is Madam Zhang jealous of Ma? Imo, especially since she very clearly has dissociated into oblivion and has no love or affection for anyone anymore, and no real desire or motivation to secure her position further aside from maybe producing an heir to make sure shes taken care of after Baoxiang dies, there's no reason for her to be inextricably jealous of Ma. It kinda just erases all of Madam Zhang's political savvy and cunning into jealous, petty woman, and that sucks. If she was suspicious of Ma's intention, or Baoxiang genuinely expressed spmething that actively threatened her position, her hatred of Ma would make sense, but instead she hates Ma cause Ma is ugly and spends every night with Baoxiang. She hated rice buckets concubine cause that concubine used a lot of funds and competition genuinely made her position less stable. She needs better motivation for hating Ma.

3. As I mentioned earlier, Zhu needs to be the one to tell Ouyang that she does not have a dick. That's just all around better, it feels more like a betrayl to bare your secrets and be rejected, etc etc.

4. The duology should have been a trilogy, with book 3 starting when Zhu is at her lowest, ouyang is dead, ma is in khanbaliq, Xu Da is dead, a new guy is the emperor. This is where a book three should have started. in a series that has so many important characters, i feel like it needs more space. she's in a 10 gallon tank when really she needs a 30 gallon tank. Lots of it, especially towards the end of book 2, felt rushed and the extra book will absolutely push that back a bit and make it less rushed.

Anyways that's my critique of The Radiant emperor duology. Once Again, I liked the series, its one of my favorites i've read all year. I don't dislike it, and having a critique or opinion about something doesnt mean I didn't like the book or understand the book (because obviously if i understood it i would understand why its flawless). I liked it, there are things I wish were different, that's it.

#radiant emperor #he who drowned the world #she who became the sun #radiant emperor spoilers #spoiler #i wrote this in like 2 hours at 4 am and i got lazy halfway thru editing it so if theres typos rip #i just needed to get it out of my brain #organized in text somewhere other than jamies discord dms #thank you jamie also #i have a lot of opinions on this duology #some i didnt even mention cause its 6:30 and i forgot #i think shelley parker chan wants to write nblm or mlm books tbh #i dont think they really wanna write sapphic books #and tbh im ok with that i think there should be more books about transmascs #the tiktok/tumblr habit of describing a book with tags really also doesnt help this book also #i think to say 'sapphic enemies to lovers' for this kind of book gives people the wrong impression #especially since once again i wouldnt really describe it as sapphic in the genre way #anyhow again so nobody kills me #i did like the books #i enjoyed them i loved them i did not hate them at all

124 notes · View notes