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halothenthehorns · 2 years ago

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Chapter 16: I GO DOWN WITH THE SHIP

Happy Valentine's Day! I love double updates! I'm so close to being done again!

HPHPHPHP

Thalia read the new chapter title with a pit of dread already lodged into her no matter how silly it seemed. She knew Percy was fine, he was sitting right next to her, but there weren't a lot of nice ways to read that without her mind once again showing her distraught sister begging her to help find Percy...

"Thalia!" Like the annoying little brother she missed every day, Percy waved his hands in front of her eyes to get her attention.

"I'm going, I'm going," she huffed, swatting his hand away impatiently.

"You'd think he'd run out of rocks," I muttered.

"I would not actually," Alex shrugged, "you're on an island, it would be weirder if he did."

"I'd just be grateful he's not throwing the sheep at you," Magnus nodded.

"Swim for it!" Grover said.

He and Clarisse plunged into the surf. Annabeth hung on to Clarisse's neck and tried to paddle with one hand, the wet Fleece weighing her down.

Jason whistled in appreciation for Clarisse making that swim weighed down like that, and wished he could shove one of those boulders up Ares's nose.

But the monster's attention wasn't on the Fleece.

"You, young Cyclops!" Polyphemus roared. "Traitor to your kind!"

Percy ground up his teeth and wished to lob any number of retorts back, but there was no need. He knew Tyson wasn't falling for this.

Tyson froze.

"Don't listen to him!" I pleaded. "Come on."

I pulled Tyson's arm, but I might as well have been pulling a mountain.

Thalia's face twitched unpleasantly, leaving Percy to wonder for a bizarre moment if he'd ever tried to do that.

He turned and faced the older Cyclops. "I am not a traitor."

"You serve mortals!" Polyphemus shouted. "Thieving humans!"

Polyphemus threw his first boulder. Tyson swatted it aside with his fist.

"Not a traitor," Tyson said. "And you are not my kind."

"Death or victory!" Polyphemus charged into the surf, but his foot was still wounded. He immediately stumbled and fell on his face. That would've been funny, except he started to get up again, spitting salt water and growling.

"I never understood why prat falls were supposed to be funny away," Will sniffed, "stupid banana," he trailed off into mutters about the Stoll brothers and their stupid speaker sound effects, but Nico couldn't help but notice he wasn't really upset about whatever this was apparently about as he still smiled.

"Percy!" Clarisse yelled. "Come on!"

They were almost to the ship with the Fleece. If I could just keep the monster distracted a little longer ...

"Go," Tyson told me. "I will hold Big Ugly."

"No! He'll kill you." I'd already lost Tyson once. I wasn't going to lose him again. "We'll fight him together."

"Together," Tyson agreed.

Percy couldn't have been more proud of his little brother, the same guy who'd been afraid of Matt Sloan was now narrowing his calf brown eye with the only dislikable expression Percy had ever seen in his kind-hearted face upon Polyphemus. Percy had to keep reminding himself not to grip his sword, not to charge into battle as he smiled along.

I drew my sword.

Polyphemus advanced carefully, limping worse than ever. But there was nothing wrong with his throwing arm. He chucked his second boulder. I dove to one side, but I still would've been squashed if Tyson's fist hadn't blasted the rock to rubble.

I willed the sea to rise. A twenty-foot wave surged up, lifting me on its crest. I rode toward the Cyclops and kicked him in the eye, leaping over his head as the water blasted him onto the beach.

Jason had total confidence this was going to be perfectly fine for Percy. He'd defeated Ares once, Polyphemus was nothing in comparison.

"Destroy you!" Polyphemus spluttered. "Fleece stealer!"

"You stole the Fleece!" I yelled. "You've been using it to lure satyrs to their deaths!"

"So? Satyrs good eating!"

"The Fleece should be used to heal! It belongs to the children of the gods!"

"I am a child of the gods!" Polyphemus swiped at me, but I sidestepped. "Father Poseidon, curse this thief!" He was blinking hard now, like he could barely see, and I realized he was targeting by the sound of my voice.

'Blitz and I should never go against this guy,' Hearth smiled mockingly. Their friend would spend the whole battle critiquing that wool wardrobe and they'd never get out of there.

'I wouldn't have it any other way,' Magnus fervently agreed.

"Poseidon won't curse me," I said, backing up as the Cyclops grabbed air. "I'm his son, too. He won't play favorites."

Polyphemus roared. He ripped an olive tree out of the side of the cliff and smashed it where I'd been standing a moment before.

"Is virgin olive oil in that mango recipe?" Alex smirked.

"Remind me to send you to Hell's Kitchen," Percy scowled.

"Humans not the same! Nasty, tricky, lying!"

Grover was helping Annabeth aboard the ship. Clarisse was waving frantically at me, telling me to come on.

Tyson worked his way around Polyphemus, trying to get behind him.

"Young one!" the older Cyclops called. "Where are you? Help me!"

Tyson stopped.

"You weren't raised right!" Polyphemus wailed, shaking his olive tree club. "Poor orphaned brother! Help me!"

Percy finally started to feel a little bit of regret for his actions, almost letting Polyphemus live before, if he was about to pull the same trick on Tyson now. Please, please don't let this brute hurt my little brother, he prayed directly to his father, but there was no answer from Poseidon this time.

No one moved. No sound but the ocean and my own heartbeat. Then Tyson stepped forward, raising his hands defensively. "Don't fight, Cyclops brother. Put down the—"

Polyphemus spun toward his voice.

"Tyson!" I shouted.

The tree struck him with such force it would've flattened me into a Percy pizza with extra olives.

Alex definitely made another inappropriate comment under his breath over there, something about Annabeth feeling better, but only Magnus heard and flushed neon red to give it away.

Tyson flew backward, plowing a trench in the sand. Polyphemus charged after him, but I shouted, "No!" and lunged as far as I could with Riptide. I'd hoped to sting Polyphemus in the back of the thigh, but I managed to leap a little bit higher.

Even Thalia winced along with all the boys in the room at the prospect of getting, ahem, a scratch there...let alone that!

"Blaaaaah!" Polyphemus bleated just like his sheep, and swung at me with his tree.

"You almost deserved that one," Jason muttered, though he still wished he could leap up and help any second too.

I dove, but still got raked across the back by a dozen jagged branches. I was bleeding and bruised and exhausted. The guinea pig inside me wanted to bolt. But I swallowed down my fear.

At least Nico didn't burst into hysterical laughter at the idea again, but there was certainly a new air about him. The feeling of awe, longing, even envy for Percy had diluted enough he just chuckled a bit at the idea before pressing his lips together so Thalia could keep reading.

Polyphemus swung the tree again, but this time I was ready. I grabbed a branch as it passed, ignoring the pain in my hands as I was jerked skyward, and let the Cyclops lift me into the air.

Magnus leaned close to Alex this time and muttered, "I wondered where the whomping tree was this book."

"And Percy even made an effort to mess up the roots," he added salaciously, causing Magnus to close his eyes and turn away lest he burst into hysterical laughter next.

At the top of the arc I let go and fell straight against the giant's face—landing with both feet on his already damaged eye.

The collective wince around the room and spastic blinking, even Thalia rubbing her own eye for a moment before she could keep going wasn't exactly the sympathy pain Polyphemus deserved after all he'd done, but involuntary all the same.

Polyphemus yowled in pain. Tyson tackled him, pulling him down. I landed next to them— sword in hand, within striking distance of the monster's heart. But I locked eyes with Tyson, and I knew I couldn't do it. It just wasn't right.

Jason had never looked at Percy with a stranger expression. Percy stared back defiantly and just knew this guy was forming a whole lecture in his head about what an idiot he was, how it was just a monster, and Percy was still prepared now like he had been before to defend his choice every step of the way.

He didn't though, just turned back to watching Thalia read with a stubbornly straight face, eerily like the one's she got when she was keeping her thoughts from Percy what was about to happen. Percy didn't know what to make of it and wondered if Jason himself did. If something in his past he didn't even know about was bothering this about him, the poor guy probably wouldn't even know.

"Let him go," I told Tyson. "Run."

With one last mighty effort, Tyson pushed the cursing older Cyclops away, and we ran for the surf.

"I will smash you.'" Polyphemus yelled, doubling over in pain. His enormous hands cupped over his eye.

Tyson and I plunged into the waves.

"Where are you?" Polyphemus screamed. He picked up his tree club and threw it into the water. It splashed off to our right.

I summoned up a current to carry us, and we started gaining speed. I was beginning to think we might make it to the ship, when Clarisse shouted from the deck, "Yeah, Jackson! In your face, Cyclops!"

"Silence is golden and duct tape is silver," Will groaned, thinking he might have to have a roll on him if he ever found out Clarisse went out on a quest again.

"You think that girl would learn her lesson," Nico agreed, maybe she needed to rip her own arm off and shove it down her throat to take a hint.

Shut up, I wanted to yell.

"Rarrr!" Polyphemus picked up a boulder. He threw it toward the sound of Clarisse's voice, but it fell short, narrowly missing Tyson and me.

"Yeah, yeah!" Clarisse taunted. "You throw like a wimp! Teach you to try marrying me, you idiot!"

"Clarisse!" I yelled, unable to stand it. "Shut up!"

Too late. Polyphemus threw another boulder, and this time I watched helplessly as it sailed over my head and crashed through the hull of the Queen Anne's Revenge.

Percy gasped and spluttered out a no, but Thalia wasn't giving him much time to freak out as she kept reading in a blur. She was already reading with that same stubbornly straight face. Whatever worries or fears she might have for her friends, she was keeping it all in check until they were out of there.

You wouldn't believe how fast a ship can sink.

"Didn't it take the Titanic three hours to sink?" Alex asked.

"Different kind of ship," Percy reminded grimly, "she sunk in five minutes, easy, and was going to take us all with her."

The Queen Anne's Revenge creaked and groaned and listed forward like it was going down a playground slide.

I cursed, willing the sea to push us faster, but the ship's masts were already going under.

"Dive!" I told Tyson. And as another rock sailed over our heads, we plunged underwater.

"Shit, shit, how do we abort the mission," Percy muttered, whishing he could shake Thalia to make her read faster or just launch himself into the wreck to get them all and knowing neither would do any good. So he was just left to sit here and do nothing, which was somehow as terrible a torment as listening to this!

My friends were sinking fast, trying to swim, without luck, in the bubbly trail of the ship's wreckage.

Not many people realize that when a ship goes down, it acts like a sinkhole, pulling down everything around it.

"A fun fact I hope I'll never need," Magnus whispered. Annabeth had to be carried out there, she was doomed if something wasn't figured out, now!

Clarisse was a strong swimmer, but even she wasn't making any progress. Grover frantically kicked with his hooves. Annabeth was hanging on to the Fleece, which flashed in the water like a wave of new pennies.

I swam toward them, knowing that I might not have the strength to pull my friends out.

Worse, pieces of timber were swirling around them; none of my power with water would help if I got whacked on the head by a beam.

We need help, I thought.

Yes. Tyson's voice, loud and clear in my head.

I looked over at him, startled. I'd heard Nereids and other water spirits speak to me underwater before, but it never occurred to me ... Tyson was a son of Poseidon. We could communicate with each other.

Magnus had so many questions about how that worked, but mostly he felt bad for Tyson. If he'd tried calling out for Percy like this after Clarisse's ship had blown up and been so scared to find no answer from Percy.

Rainbow, Tyson said.

I nodded, then closed my eyes and concentrated, adding my voice to Tyson's: RAINBOW! We need you!

Immediately, shapes shimmered in the darkness below—three horses with fish tails, galloping upward faster than dolphins. Rainbow and his friends glanced in our direction and seemed to read our thoughts. They whisked into the wreckage, and a moment later burst upward in a cloud of bubbles—Grover, Annabeth, and Clarisse each clinging to the neck of a hippocampus.

"I am giving that horse-fish all of his favorites when we get back," Percy flopped back into his seat like a dying fish he was so exhausted constantly thinking everybody he cared about was about to die! Why couldn't it just be him, he knew he was alive!

Rainbow, the largest, had Clarisse. He raced over to us and allowed Tyson to grab hold of his mane. His friend who bore Annabeth did the same for me.

We broke the surface of the water and raced away from Polyphemus's island. Behind us, I could hear the Cyclops roaring in triumph, "I did it! I finally sank Nobody!"

I hoped he never found out he was wrong.

"See, I was hoping for the opposite," Alex challenged. "I want to know how he leaves the island, and if he comes after you surely you can just defeat him again."

"I'll stick with Rainbow," Percy shook his head vigorously.

We skimmed across the sea as the island shrank to a dot and then disappeared.

"Did it," Annabeth muttered in exhaustion. "We ..."

She slumped against the neck of the hippocampus and instantly fell asleep.

Percy's hands twitched. To hold her steady, to pull her close, to wrap the fleece tighter around her. She was okay, Tyson was alive, Grover was traumatized but still kicking, even Clarisse had survived. They did it. They really managed to pull this off.

I didn't know how far the hippocampi could take us. I didn't know where we were going. I just propped up Annabeth so she wouldn't fall off, covered her in the Golden Fleece that we'd been through so much to get, and said a silent prayer of thanks.

Which reminded me ... I still owed the gods a debt.

"You're a genius," I told Annabeth quietly.

Percy laughed hardest of all, but the others had their share of fun giggling along Percy had kept his promise. Technically. Nobody said she had to be awake to hear it, and they liked to think Annabeth would be kissing her idiot right now for this.

Then I put my head against the Fleece, and before I knew it, I was asleep, too.

"That one was short," Thalia said with a sigh of relief as she got up to hand the book to Nico.

"Technically everybody went down with the ship, and Nobody," Nico smiled as he took it without a second thought.

#percabeth #percy jackson #PJO #Thalia Grace #Jason Grace #Nico di Angelo #Will Solace #solangleo #Alex Fierro #Magnus Chase #fierrochase #Hearthstone #reading the books #fanfiction #HDYSG

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quietplace26 · 2 years ago

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(Warning. Dead Naga hatchlings are mention in this part.)

Naga!KK au (5)

A cry of pain leaves Akito as he thrown rather roughly into a cramp, dark cell. The cell door slams shut behind him, and the cell becomes even darker, leaving barely any light for Akito to see.

Mocking laughter and sneers could be heard outside, saying they'll be back later on to deal with him. The sounds of these people faded away as they walked off, leaving Akito alone in the darkness.

Oh gods... What was he going to do now?!

Not even a few hours ago was he waking up happily in KK's arms, letting his Naga mate hold him close as he nuzzled his face against Akito's, making happy rumbling sounds.

After that, KK took him out their cave and straight over to Erika/Rinko's cave, where both Naga's left their human's alone so they go hunt for food.

This was a normal thing. Every few days, Akito and Erika would spend time with one another while their Naga's hunt, and then at the end of the day, KK would take Akito home.

But today was different. Today was... bad.

Akito was just reading one of his books with Erika when he heard it. Loud voices yelling right outside the cave. "She's hiding in this cave! Find her and bring her back to camp!"

Erika's face became a sickly pale color and she began shaking. "N-no! They-they can't be here!" She whispers franically as she tugs Akito to his feet, pushing him toward a different cave entrance. "We need to run!"

The voices turned out to belong to men that were from the same camp Erika used to lived at. They were basically her father's lackeys, the muscle that Hannya used to keep his camp in order.

"If they catch us, they'll kill us or worse!" Erika was crying at this point as she and Akito scrambled out the cave andinto the forest.

Akito really didn't want to find out what's worse than being murdered, but as the voices started catchng up to them, Akito knew he had to make a choice.

"Run Erika! Don't stop till you find KK and Rinko!" Akito ends up sacrificing himself, giving Erika time to run into the forest and disappear from sight.

Akito is then roughly dragged back to the human settlement where he is shocked to see many familiar faces.

"Akito?!" Standing there was Takumi and many of his old classmates! He thought they all drowned after the boat party disaster!

The happiness of seeing familiar faces is dimmed when he found out that Takumi was willingly working with Hannya, acting as the older man's second in command and future 'heir' to the settlement.

When Takumi questioned Akito about Erika's whereabouts, Akito refused to say anything. This angers Takumi and he hits Akito, knocking him to the ground. "Why the hell are you protecting her?! Are you like her! An ally to those monsters?!"

"It seems he is young Takumi." A chilling voice comes from the fuming Takumi. It was a man in a mask. This, was Hannya.

Hannya violently yanks off Akito's choker. "This-" Hannya holds the choker up, plucking one of the gemstones off of it to hand to Takumi. "is only worned by those things." Hannya turns back to Akito. "It seems like my foolish daughter isn't the only traitor to humanity on this island... Throw him in the cells. I'll deal with him later."

Now here Akito was. Hurt, his gift's from KK taken from him, and absolutely scared for his life.

He lets out a shuddering breath as he leans back against the wall behind him. At the very least, he helped Erika escaped. Hopefully she found KK and Rinko by now...

"KK..." Akito sniffles as he thought about his Naga mate, praying that KK would somehow be able to get him out this hell...

With another shaky breath, Akito slowly got to his feet. Maybe there was something in this cell that could help him?

There wasn't much in the cell. A few empty boxes, trash scattered everywhere... and a unholy smell coming from the far corner.

With the little light he had, Akito makes a horrifying discovery. The smell he was smelling was that of a rotten corpse. It was small in size, the size of a small child and... it had a snake tail.

Akito scrambles back in shock, slapping a hand over his mouth in horror. That was a dead Naga child, a hatchling! He's never seen one before, but KK's told him how hatchlings were considered to be a blessing, as Naga's don't get the chance to have children very often.

And there was several dead hatchlings piled up in the corner, all looking so very small and young. It almost made Akito want to vomit.

A sound of something moving thankfully distracts Akito from the horrifying view in front of him.

"H-hello?" Something moves again, darting behind a box. "Is-is someone there?" The thing behind the box peeks out, and Akito is blindsided by the reptilian eyes staring back at him fearfully.

It was a Naga hatchling! And one that was alive!

The hatchling, Akito wasn't sure what gender it was, hisses at the human, baring it's tiny fangs at him when he moved closer. It was so, so very small...

Akito wanted to help it, take it out this horrible place, but he couldn't. He was trapped just like this hatchling was!

A whimper of defeat claws out Akito's throat as he curls up in a ball, crying heavily. He wanted to go back to his cave! Where it was safe and KK would be there to hold him, prtoect him!

A small clawed hand patting his wet cheek brings him back to reality. Akito blinks open his wet eyes to see the hatchling was sitting right beside him, looking unsure, but not as scared as before.

Akito slowly sits up, carefully making sure he didn't scare the hatchling with sudden movements, and gives it what he hoped was a friendly smile. "H-hello there."

The hatchling stares at him warily for a moment before shocking Akito by slithering onto his lap, where it then reaches out to touch a tattooed 'scale' on his shoulder.

A happy cooing sound comes from the hatchling and it begins wiggling around in excitement. The sudden happiness surprises Akito, but then he saw the hatchling's tail.

While dirt and grime covered the small snake tail, there was no mistaking what color the hatchling's scales were. They were bright blue. The same exact shade of blue Akito's tattooed 'scales' were!

Oh dear... Did-did it think Akito was there parent?!

Actually where was this hatchling's parents?! Were they dead?! They had to be cause Akito just couldn't see a Naga willingly giving their hatchling's too these vile humans!

He eyed the far corner warily. Just how many adult Nagas have been killed? And how many hatchlings suffered afterwards...

Akito shook his head, banishing the dark thoughts as he turned his attention back to the happy hatchling wigglying on his lap.

Ahhh! Was he even ready to be a parent?! Especially to a Naga hatchling?! Oh, and what would KK say about this?! Would he even accept the hatchling as his own?!

A sleepy coo breaks Akito out his freak out session and he glances down to see the hatchling was almost fully asleep on his lap. It was coiled up in a ball and one of it's little clawed hands had latched onto Akito's fingers, gripping it lightly as it dozed off to sleep.

Akito stares at it for a moment. "...Looks like I'm a dad now." He sighs out, and for the first time since he was thrown in here, he smiles a real smile.

"Help is coming soon little one..." Akito ruffles the sleeping hatchling's hair gently. "KK... Your papa, will gets us out of here! I just know it!"

KK would come to save him! Akito knew that for a fact!

...He just hoped when his Naga mate arrived, it wouldn't be to late for him and the hatchling...

#ghostwire: tokyo #ghostwire tokyo #akito/kk #naga au #naga!kk #monster au #akito has tattoos #guess who that hatchling is #SHE has appeared in some of my other aus before #long post omg

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ravenwolf1132 · 1 year ago

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Hmm. I was actually thinking something along the line of shape-shifting. The Joestars are capable of taking a human form for a certain amount of time, it takes a lot of energy to keep up that form, though there is something distinctly non-human about them. Like Jotaro's flexibility or Joseph's tough skin, maybe teeth that are just a tad too sharp, perhaps some odd quality to their eyes like a film membrane that acts as a second eyelid, and the sounds they would make, just inhuman.

Also the whole, making them absolutely enormous in their full forms, like Jonathan can hold a full grown human in the palm of his hand. While Jotaro might not get quite that big, I like thinking he could pick someone up like they're a hand held doll. Joseph using his whole ass ship as his shell in full form like some kind of Howl's Moving Castle.

Imagine this;

In the final fight against Dio, his ship is sailing along, its just after dark when they left port, and they're on the look out for anything. There are reports that the Joestars were closing in, they had to be ready. But nothing could have prepared them for the sheer size of these creatures. Giant tentacles erupt from the sea around them and grapple the ship pulling it down slightly as a massive humanoid form breaks through the surface of the water and perches itself on the figurehead at the bow. The rough, purpley skin, the dark frilled tentacles, the erie, bioluminescent glow, patterned like stars. In its maw, rows upon rows of sharp, shark like teeth, teal eyes that bore down upon them with rage and fury that rooted them to the spot, fin-webbed like ears pinned back as it hisses and the other frills and fins flare out in a display of dominance, arches of light like electricity crackle along it. The way it glowed in the night, damn near blending in with the Starlight behind it.

The beast that holds them captive bellows;

"Where is Dio Brando? Bring him to me."

In the distance, a large ship is gaining on them, but it seems to be moving on its own rather than being maned by a crew. A large head pokes out from beneath the waves just in front of the ship. A similarly large creature, perhaps bigger, pulling the ship along to catch up with the one held captive.

The crew, shaken with fear, fetch their captain. When Dio is brought before the creature, he clutches his sword, the very sword he used to slay the first Joestar, before sneering. "So, this is Jonathan's descendant. Small fry compared to him."

The boards and steel of the ship squeal and shriek, cracking in protest to the tentacles strangling them.

"I'm only Seventeen, I have more to grow." The beast growled, "though you will live no longer than this night. For a vampire like you, to say that I wish for you see the light of day would be a threat."

The vampire captain scoffed and turned to his crew, "you hear that? The beast says he shall slay us all!"

"Oh no, not them," The kraken reiterates. "Only you."

He had their full attention now, might as well sell it for all he's got.

"You are a traitor and murderer, Dio Brando, and apparently-" he reaches down and plucks the sword out of his grasp. It grows in a swirl of energy, reaching its full size that even the kraken struggles to carry. The word "Luck" clear as day engraved on the handle. "-a thief too. This sword once belonged to my great great grandfather, the very same sword you killed him with, someone who had once been your friend before your betrayal. And because of what? Jealousy? Power?"

Whispers broke out amongst the crew, Dio had not told them the nature of the relationship he had with Jonathan Joestar, nor had they been aware of the origins of the captain's sword. Before anyone could speak up, the kraken reached down and picked up Dio like he was nothing but a child's plaything. Dio struggled in the creature's grasp and tried to gain the upper hand by draining it's blood, but instead, he shrieked when nothing but a painful burning sensation spread through his body.

The beast laughed, he sounded almost in disbelief, "did you seriously try to drink my blood, you little bloodsucking leach?" He hissed. "Jonathan wasn't the only one knows hamon, you know, a power that is fatal to vampires? Did you really think the electricity along my body was just of an eel and nothing more? I thought you were supposed to be smarter than that."

Dio hung limp in the creature's hand, he pushed himself up and sneered, "I am Dio! I shall not be defeated by a mere shadow of Jonathan's majesty like you!"

The tentacles holding the ship captive loosened and returned to sea, the other ship finally closed the distance and was now passing them. They could now clearly see another large merfolk that was more crustacean than cephalopod much larger than the kraken. This older Hermit Crab's eyes were still as sharp as ever and trained on Dio only. An armored hand reached out and took the vampiric captain in his claws. If the kraken's hand made Dio look like a toy, then this crab's claws dwarfed him, keeping him from being able to move or struggle any further.

"You're coming with us," the Crab's gruff voice growled as he lowered back into the sea, taking the captain with him. Upon the ship on the Crab's back, a few of Dio's crewmembers recognized two familiar crewmates. A silver haired swordsman who was in search of his sister's murderer, and a redhead teenager. One that the others swore up and down was not human, that he couldn't be human, but no one could prove. The ship turned and sailed away, the redhead catching the eye of Dio's first mate, a dark skinned, white haired teen who glared at him. The redhead merely looked away, not bothering to look back, paying more attention to the Arabic man in front of him decked out in red robes. This only seemed to anger the first mate further.

The kraken turned back to the ship, "you are free to go, our business is with Dio only, not with the likes of you. Leave this place and forget about Dio Brando, this traitor is not someone who deserves to be remembered. Should I find that any of you continue to follow in the footsteps of this monster, I will hunt you down personally. You can run, you can try to hide, but I will find you," he glares directly at Dio's first mate. "Sail away, little row boat, sail away and live your lives. We've got what we came for, Dio will be the only one paying for his crimes tonight and him alone."

The kraken sank beneath the waves and followed the ship sailing away. Dio arose from a watery grave, and he shall return to a watery grave.

Permanently.

so we've made the jojos were...creatures...vampires, what else? I think the next logical step is making them mermaids when they get water on them. the merstars

B E T

for extra fun, what if they're like. The mildly eldritch Giant mermaids. Like, the ones that could hold a human in the palm of their hand

just. The Joestar family are essentially literal legends. Jonathan used to be Dio's friend and companion, protecting his ship and crew by swimming alongside them until one day he was betrayed and his skeleton was then hung up like a skeleton and ever since the family has distanced themselves from humans, save for Speedwagon and Erina since they were Jonathan's close friends

now the whole series has been shoved to the water. Maybe George II was a half-human who just kept growing until he had to be moved to he water permanently, but fell in love with his childhood friend Elizabeth who would visit him and even bought a home on the seaside. Maybe one day she was followed and George was slaughtered, and while she was able to get revenge she was forced on the run to escape legal repercussions

now thanks to Erina and Speedwagon she lives on an island far by the coast and almost an hour away from anyone else where she does her best to teach and raise her son in peace. Being only 1/4 mer Joseph could probably pass as a human, albeit a pretty large one, but there are some traits he struggles to hide should any person try to get too close, like having slightly strange eyes and patches of scales and gills

Suzie was a mer who'd pass through at regular times in the year and she and Joseph slowly fell in love with each other. They'd go on long swims into the sunset and stare at all kinds of plant life. Joseph would bring Susie all kinds of Land Foods to share and he learns how to cook specifically so he can share it with her. Susie tells him all about her travels around the world and deep in the ocean and brings back souvenirs. It didn't surprise anyone when they announced their marriage and Joseph purchased a boat so he and Susie could travel together

Holly grew up in the ocean and on a boat. She would swim alongside her mother and father as they travelled, going where she pleases. Susie and Joseph weren't surprised when she fell in love with the musician who would always play his songs by the sea. When Jotaro is born, he has a sort of a split custody of sorts. For the school year he lives with his father on land and attends human classes, and then during the summer break and any other long breaks he travels the ocean with his mom and interacts with other mers

Fibsh People Go Brrrr

#merstars #jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo #joseph joestar #dio brando #mohammed avdol #noriaki kakyoin #jean pierre polnareff #enrico pucci

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l-r-christian · 3 years ago

Text

Title: 'Tied to one' part four

Summary: The siblings had learned that a witch had rewrote their soul strings mean while Mikael had went after Freya and Y/N as Hayley's misdeeds are undone. Would the siblings forgive her? Or lose Elijah forever?

Warnings: Angst like a lot of it, Angry Mikaelsons. Loss of a unborn child, Violence, Y/N being a badass

A/N: I noted that I kinda made this part every long too. So it makes me wonder do guys like it when I do long parts when doing series? Let me know ☺

Elijah and Klaus kept Hayley close as they walked though the Ninth ward and they couldn't help but notice it was quite. Then they heard screaming and smelled burning of wood and they went to see what was happening with the witches as they hadn't done a trial in so long.

"They are doing a witch trial." Rebekah whispered as they watched witches dragging out another witch that crying and Hayley knew who the witch as she was the one that did the spell that rewrote the soul string.

"Please, don't do this! Please, I beg of the Ancestors! I don't want to die!" The witch shouted as they tied the sobbing witch to a stake. And Elijah held Hayley back from rushing forward to try and save the witch.

"Hayley, we not stop this. Davina is Regent and we agreed to not enter witches affairs."

"Regent, her rights?"

"Annilse for rewriting soul strings and going against the Ancestors. Your punishment is death as you have brought danger to all Nine covens. Your last words?" Davina asked holding up a torch of fire as the witch swallowed her sobs and decided if she was going down she was taking Hayley with her.

"Yes, my Regent. Hayley Marshall, Queen and Alpha of Crescent wolf pack had me do the spell for her own personal gain! The Original soulmate is a witch!" The witch cried out shocking the witches and they whispered among themselves as Elijah let Hayley go. A heartbreak settled over the siblings as Hayley looked at them teary eyed the sound of a burning witch echoed out and the thought of this witch dying because of Hayley hit the siblings with guilt at slowly crawled up their backs.

"She is lying."

"Hayley, we have lived long enough to know that one on their death bed has no reason to lie. Once we find our mother you will explain yourself." Elijah said rather coldly walking pass the female hybrid as the others glared at her following Elijah.

At the Abattoir Freya was helping Y/N with spell to find out what was wrong with her soul strings as both were getting along. Freya found the young witch adorable believe she was a good fit for Finn as they bonded over her possible niece or nephew that Y/N carried.

"It seems my soul string to Finn is pure but it is also saying the other four."

"Impossible, Hayley is their soulmate." Freya said frowning looking over Y/N's shoulder looking at the paper seeing the names of her siblings written our elegantly.

"I knew something was wrong but this magic is to much for me to reverse." Y/N said as Freya smiled taking her hand.

"Don't worry I'll fix it for you, dear Y/N."

"NIKLAUS! Come out a face, you mistake of a man!" Y/N and Freya heard Mikael yell as the witches looked at one another before headed out to the catwalk seeing the vampire standing there. Mikael looked up seeing the witches smirking at them which made Y/N shiver at his dark look.

"Ah my traitorous daughter and the tainted soulmate. Niklaus left you both unprotected."

"I am not a traitor for protecting my siblings from you father. I don't need Nik to protect us." Freya said glaring at her father as Y/N swallowed watching Freya use her magic against Mikael. It was a bloody fight with Freya drawing the most blood from Mikael as Y/N watched Freya fall feeling drained.

"Y/N run!" Freya shouted as the witch didn't need to be told twice and took off running with Mikael close behind. Y/N yelped feeling Mikael grab her by the neck and the witch stabbed his side fighting back as much as she could.

"So the abomination is having another child? How much would it kill him to lose you both?" Mikael said having pinned Y/N to the floor as her heart raced unable to speak as the vampire had his hand around her thoat. Panic and fear filled Y/N feeling Mikael's hand on her abdomen making her struggle to get free when pain shot though her as she let out a pain fill scream and Freya trying to make her way to them both.

"Shame to lose something so lovely."

"Shame....you'll....be enslaved.....monster." Y/N coughed up blood and before Mikael could kill her. The witch smashed a small bottle against the vampire's head and said a quick spell under her breath as Mikael fell over unconscious then rolled over whimpering curling into herself trying to stop the bleeding.

"I can't believe you!" Rebekah growled angrily as they entered the Abattoir unable to find Esther and Hayley was about to apologize again but Elijah stopped her seeing Freya up on the catwalk hurt. The scent of blood hit their noses as Elijah bit into his wrist to heal Freya.

"Y/N......father.....witch room." Freya rasped out before letting Elijah heal her while both Finn and Klaus rushed to the room seeing the two. Mikael was still unconscious as Y/N was curled in a ball crying and Finn went went to his soulmate while Klaus went to Mikael.

"Darling, shhhhh I'm here here now."

"I'm sorry.....I tried." Y/N whimpered burying her face in Finn's neck as both him and Klaus couldn't hear the second heartbeat and realized what she meant.

"Get her clean up brother. I'll take care of this."

A moments later with everyone cleaned up and Freya explained what happened and what she heard. Y/N had her abdomen wrapped with bandage and dressed in one of Finn's shirts as she walked into the den and the rest of Mikaelson was taken back seeing her with a fire in her gorgeous eyes when she walked in.

Mikael stood growling angry at the witch that got of him and surprised to see his second oldest following behind her then moved to attacked the witch to try to use her to get out before anyone could stop him.

"Kneel!" Y/N commanded glaring at the vampire as right away Mikael fell onto one knee shocking the others. Y/N stood in front of Mikael with fiery eyes as to the siblings it was the look of a Queen and to Klaus this was the woman he could see hisself waging a war for.....his true Queen.

"What have you done, witch?"

"My grandmother's old command spell. It only works on vampires and as long as I have this mark," Y/N raised her hand showing what looked like a tattoo of a chain attached to a moon as the same mark was on Mikael's hand, "you cannot hurt me and follow every order I give."

"My my spoken like a true Queen there, love." Klaus says smirking walking behind her placing his hands on her shoulders leaning close to her ear looking at Mikael with a glint in his blue eyes. Klaus was enjoying this a little too much as the others stood by watching.

"Now what does the Queen wish to do?"

"Tell him the truth about the baby." Y/N's words made Klaus smirk darkly looking at Mikael before letting Finn help her sit down and now Mikael was confused as Finn fuzzed over the small witch.

"Well dear father, the baby belonged to Finn here. As it appears that real soulmates are able to have children with vampires." Klaus said still smirking as Mikael look at an angry Finn with a apologetic look on his face as Elijah stepped behind their father snapping his neck letting the body fall.

"He'll come in handy to find mother. Now Hayley what poor dear Annilse said before her death." Klaus said looking at the female hybrid as Freya and Y/N looked confused.

"What is going on?"

"Hayley here had a witch rewrite our soul strings because she wanted Elijah." Kol said as the witches looked at Hayley who looked away ashamed and Y/N stood up teary eyed.

"You took everything from me just so you could have something that wasn't yours?"

"I loved Elijah away before you did! I deserved him no......" Hayley was cut off by Y/N slapping her shocking everyone. Hot tears fell freely down Y/N's face as she glared at Hayley who was holding her cheek. The soul strings that connected the witch to the siblings sparked with color was stronger this time but died out.

"I lost my baby! Finn lost a chance to be a father all because of you! You took everything away from them all because you weren't happy! And I hope you fucking burn." Y/N said leaving the den with Finn following after to comfort her.

"You got an innocent witch killed and my brother lost his child because you loved Elijah? How dare you, Hayley." Freya said walking out to check on Y/N leaving the female hybrid with the other four Mikaelsons. Elijah couldn't look at Hayley as his heart ached and blamed hisself for it all even though it really wasn't his fault and Rebekah covered her mouth as her own tears wetting her cheeks as Kol sat next to her comforting her.

"I'm sorry, if I know this would hap...."

"You wouldn't have done it? If you truly loved Elijah, you would have let him happy like he had done when you married Jackson." Klaus said watching Elijah leave then followed after because he knew guilt was eating away at his brother. Both Rebekah and Kol left also leaving Hayley alone as Mikael wike having heard everything.

"I may be a monster but I wouldn't have never hurt any of my children the way you have hurt Elijah."

Elijah stood in the doorway seeing Y/N laying in bed and swallowing his fear the Original walked inside and sat on the edge of the bed his back to her. Elijah was unable to look at her as his guilt ate away at him. The vampire jumped feeling the witch grab his hand and looked seeing that she laced their fingers together.

"Please don't blame yourself."

"I'm sorry.... I can't help it. I keep wondering if I had just kept my distance from her....to wait for you. Maybe you wouldn't be hurting." Elijah said voice cracking from unshed tears as Y/N rolled onto her back shifting to hold Elijah feeling tears hit her shoulder making her heart break hearing Elijah cry silently into her neck.

"Shhh Eli, I don't blame you." Y/N whispered rubbing his back seeing Finn standing in the doorway and watched him walk in. Finn placed a hand on his brother's back as he sat on the bed while Finn was taken back to when they were children how Elijah looked up to his big brother being comforted by the older Mikaelson when Mikael got to rough with the boy. Both Y/N and Finn calmed Elijah easing his blame away while Freya sat with Davina to undo the spell Hayley had done.

"I can't believe Hayley would do such a thing." Rebekah said huddled in Kol's arms as he was comforting his baby sister still angry that Hayley would do such a thing more so the price of the spell cost an innocent witch's life and Finn's unborn child all because the woman loved Elijah.

"The guilt Elijah will be carrying will crush him." Kol said softly feeling the bed dip with Klaus's weight as their older brother lay a comforting arm over the both.

"Both Finn and Y/N are easing his guilt away."

Morning sunlight shined into the bedroom waking Elijah feeling a body on him making him freeze then relaxed catching Y/N's scent as realized that Hayley wasn't in the bed. Y/N woke yawned and Finn woke also leaning over kissing the witch's head then ruffled Elijah's hair making the noble vampire smile at the familiarly.

"Morning boys." Y/N muttered sitting up with Elijah's help and she frowned feeling the knots in her hair realizing she hadn't wrapped her hair.

"Shower darling, Elijah will help you with your hair." Finn says helping her out of help bed as the sound of everyone moving around reached them. Elijah felt a twinge of familiarly as he did Y/N's hiar helping her put it up into two buns then Elijah helped her get dressed seeing her flinching due to her wound.

"Elijah." Hayley croaked out as the vampire paused seeing the hybrid in Y/N's doorway, Hayley looked a bit like a mess her eyes red and puffy from crying. Elijah looked away from Hayley, his heart squeezing in pain but felt Y/N rub his hand with her thumb.

"I'm going to see Freya and Davina." Y/N said softly leaving the room glaring at Hayley as she passed the hybrid. Hayley moved towards Elijah only for the Original to step back from her and pain flashed in Hayley's eyes looking up at Elijah.

"Elijah....I'm sorry....I didn't....."

"You didn't think this would happen? Hayley, you know more than anyone that all magic comes with a price " Elijah tells Hayley looking at her and Hayley saw the heart break on Elijah's face.

"I....just didn't think this was the price....Elijah, I just wanted you back."

"I'm sorry Hayley....I can't." Elijah says walking pass her not even looking at the woman as fresh tears fell down her face.

"So how do we undo the spell? Also why didn't affect Finn's soul string with Y/N?" Kol asked as everyone was in the room while the three witches stood by a bowl.

"Finn was dead when you met her so the spell couldn't undo their soul string as for undoing the spell. We need your blood then Y/N here to say the spell to unwritten it." Davina explained as everyone did as told then watched the ash gray strings burst with color. The siblings looked at Y/N as everything came back to them.

Rebekah was the first to move hugging Y/N who hugged back as Kol came up behind her hugging them both. Kol buried his face in her neck taking in the witch's scent. Once everyone settled down, they focus on looking for Esther. Mikael had his arms crossed watching his children working out what to do more so how Klaus wanted to make sure that the girls wouldn't get hurt.

"Can I help?" Hayley asked getting the sibling's attention before Klaus allowed her to join as Elijah was cold to her while talking about how to stop Esther. Hayley watched from outside of the gate as the siblings made sure that Y/N and Freya was going to be safe.

"I will be with them. I'll watch over them." Mikael said as the siblings looked at him then left with Hayley. In the den Y/N was writing out a spell in her grimoire as Mikael stood by as Freya stopped watching him.

"I wanted to apologize even though there is no way to undo what I have don. But I was told by Esther that you were the bast....Niklaus's soulmate but I am slowly learning that my anger is driving my children away." Mikael tells Y/N as she looked up at the older vampire seeing he was sincere.

"Thank you, Mikael." Y/N said softly as the vampire sat next to her and Freya smiled walking in with tea and the three enjoyed the quiet. There was a crash and Y/N didn't have to use her command seal as Mikael was quick to protect the witches. It was undead hybrids that Klaus had killed back in Mystic Falls as Y/N and Freya set up spells to help Mikael. When the siblings came home to see Mikael dragging dead bodies as Y/N and Freya was burning the bodies.

"What happen?!"

"Our mother sent your dead hybrids to kill us well more like father."

"You survived Mikael." Esther said glaring at her husband as Mikael glared back as the siblings saw how their father hid Y/N behind him.

"And you almost killed my children's soulmate."

"Since when did you care for the little wench?" Esther said glaring at Y/N believing the little witch stole Finn from her. Mikael growled ready to kill the Original witch when she suddenly fell and Klaus stood smirking.

"Enough of that. Shall we get mother's coffin Elijah?"

"We shall Niklaus." Elijah said smirking seeing the dagger in Esther's back. After placing Esther in a coffin and Freya placed many spells on it so it could never open they placed the coffin behind a brick wall and sealed it up.

"Shall we have a ball? I believe we deserve to celebrate." Klaus said smirking as his siblings chuckled agreeing with him before setting in the den feeling oddly comfortable around Mikael as they planned a ball.

#L.R writes #mikaelson x reader #mikaelson family x reader #Finn mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson imagine #rebekah mikaelson imagine

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cowboycakes · 4 years ago

Text

Do You Get My Letters

✥ Pairing: Levi x fem!Reader, somewhat Reiner x fem!Reader

✥ Themes: Fluff, angst, sadness, big ass plot twist

✥ Warnings: Female bodied reader (she/her pronouns,) Pregnancy and birth (nothing gory.) Mentions of death, violence, and threats. Manipulation.

✥ Synopsis: You are carrying Reiner's baby when he betrays Paradis. Levi decides to step in.

✥ Word Count: 2.2k

(there is a part two up to this fic, but i've decided i'm going to rewrite the ending at some point.)

Anon's Request: Hi! I saw your requests are open so here I want to give my little scenario a try! 🕳🤸🏽‍♀️ I thought abt this last night, I’m currently rewatching AOT after 6 yrs and yet to finish season 4, so sorry if I’m wrong abt timelines/the plot? My request is the reader was with child with Reiner, but b4 reader told him, he betrayed and exposed his mission. Levi stepped in to help reader. And btw, I just finished watching ep 3 of season 4, so maybe Eren telling reiner abt his child and he regrets leaving the reader? And reiner jealous at the fact Levi is most likely considered his child’s father at that point. I can’t come up with an ending, so I’ll leave it up to you if you do take in my request. If this isn’t your type of writing I totally understand!

Note: This story is canon divergent. It is set in season 4, but in a universe where Reiner is not revealed as a traitor/the armored titan until a few months before season 4 takes place, as the reader was having relations with him until then and did not know his secret. I’m sorry if that change bothers you, I just wanted to write this as sort of its own story. This story contains season 4 spoilers! It also has nothing to do with the canon ending of AOT.

---

Dear Reiner,

I hope this letter somehow gets to you, I don’t quite know where to start.

In a perfect world, I would be so happy to tell you this. You’d be ecstatic too, I think. And before you try to second guess me: I’m sure by now, don’t worry.

I’m pregnant.

I guess we weren’t careful enough before you left. I feel like an idiot. And lost. But I’m not hopeless. I know myself, I can make it work somehow. With or without you.

I’m still in shock about you. How could someone so close hide so much? You’re a talented spy I suppose, a great asset to Marley. You made me trust you with my entire life. You made me love every false thing about you. And this is the rude awakening I get in return.

I’ll raise our child to value honesty and kindness, all in spite of you.

Sincerely,

Reader

---

The paper was damp with tears after you lifted your pen for a final time. You wished you could just keep the whole thing a secret: go make a quiet life for yourself somewhere else. It wouldn’t be right. Not after all of the dishonesty that man had spewed to you over the past few years. You had to tell him.

The door to the office room you’d settled in to write the letter creaks open. It’s Levi. He looks at your puffy eyes somberly, sympathetic. He was the first person you had told about the entire situation. Not because you were close, just because you needed help.

You fold your letter and stick it into a sturdy envelope. Levi takes it in his hand.

“That piece of shit doesn’t deserve a thing from you. Not a letter. Certainly not tears,” Levi says, using a clean handkerchief to wipe a stray drop from your cheek, “but I am proud of you.”

You take the handkerchief from him, feeling more tears stream down your face.

“Proud? I’m a fucking idiot,” you say through your sobs.

“Don’t even try to pull that self pity shit with me. Things happen sometimes. And you’re strong enough to commit to getting through it,” he responds.

You stand up, pushing your chair out. You look at him as you dry your face off again.

“I’m alone. How the hell am I supposed to do this shit alone?”

“You are not alone,” Levi replies. You’re shocked when he pulls you into a hug. “I’m going to help.”

You had never seen this side of him before. You look at him as you pull away slowly, tears still welled in your eyes.

“Are you sure? That's a big burden, Levi. None of this has to involve you.”

“Not the biggest burden I’ve ever taken on,” he shrugs. “There’s a lot of death around here, Y/N. Everyone is going to be happy about the little bit of life you’re giving us.”

You chuckle. He’s cynical, but he’s right.

He licks the envelope as he walks toward the door.

“Want me to run you a hot bath or something? Is that the type of shit pregnant people need?” he asks.

You laugh, a little harder than normal. It felt so relieving to laugh.

“Sure, Captain,” you respond softly.

---

Dear Reader,

I received your letter before the battle in Marley. I actually got to hand it to Reiner myself. He knows everything now. He broke down in front of me after reading it, going on about how much he regrets everything. How he wishes he could change things and be there for you. He begged me to kill him right there.

The world will eventually not have suffering like what you are going through now.

Eren Jaeger

---

Your jaw had dropped reading it. He begged me to kill him.

You hand the letter Levi had just delivered back to him. He reads it with a furrowed brow.

“Do you think…” you begin, your voice shaky, “do you think I could send another letter?”

Levi purses his lips, “Possibly. I can ask Jaeger. But right now, you need to bring your blood pressure back down.”

You were over seven months along now. You had found out about your pregnancy late, after being in denial for four whole months. Hange insisted on checking you out after you’d thrown up every morning for a week.

Levi had since gone on a parenting book reading spree; he made you read several of them too. He knew just about everything you needed to do to make a healthy baby: what to eat, what not to eat, how to exercise, when to go to the doctor, etc. It was really sweet how much he cared. You knew it gave him hope, something to fight for, something to come home to.

You were terrified when he left for Marley. You kissed him for the first time when he returned. Just about everyone you knew had to fight. You wished you could be out there fighting with them like you were supposed to. Maybe you could have made a difference.

Levi takes your hand, squeezing it to bring you out of your thoughts.

“What can I do?” he asks.

“Get me a glass of wine,” you grumble.

“Absolutely not.”

---

Dear Reiner,

Reader does not know I’m sending this. So keep it that way, or I’ll kill your sorry ass. Or maybe not, you’d probably enjoy that. In that case I’ll get creative.

How does it feel? Being a fucking deadbeat? Is it everything you’d thought it’d be and more? Fucking her and leaving her with nothing, like she belongs in a whorehouse. Reminds me of what happened to my mother. Pieces of shit like you came in and sent her to her death, leaving her kid behind to starve.

I wasn’t about to let her suffer like my mother did. But you were. I’m glad your choices haunt you, Reiner. You fucking deserve it.

I’ll be there for the both of them from now on, doing everything you were never capable of. She’s due any day now, I’m sure she’ll try to write to you.

Levi

---

You feel your first contraction while napping on the couch with Levi. You were settled in between his legs, your back leaning up against his chest. He had his hands on your stomach; he loved to feel the baby kick and tell them some of the happier stories in his memories.

The two of you had grown so close over the past few months. You slept together every night now. You didn’t want to leave each other’s sides if you didn’t have to. Levi would cuddle and massage you any time your pregnant body was ailing you.

You had fantasized with him about life after the war. He wanted to be a husband, a father, to live peacefully in the countryside. And he wanted more than anything for you to join him.

The first contraction wasn’t painful enough for you to make much more than a grunting noise, but Levi woke up the second he felt your stomach contort a bit. He was on very high alert these days.

“Holy… shit…is that what I think it is?” Levi whispers, “Don’t answer. I’m getting Hange.”

He crawls out from behind you and sprints out of the room.

The pain worsens and becomes much more frequent while he’s out looking for Hange. You stand up eventually after getting the urge to walk around - and your water breaks. You start panicking, unsure of how dilated you were and how much time you had left before pushing. You really wished you’d done more than just skimmed through those birthing books right about now.

Levi and Hange eventually come sprinting back into the room with a wheelchair and cold rags to find you whimpering in pain on the couch, trying your best to control your breathing.

You’re rushed down the halls to the Scout’s infirmary, where Levi had made sure the perfect room was set up for you - and it had been that way for two months.

The next hour goes by in a blur. Hange knew the biology of how to deliver the baby, and Levi knew how to coach you. He helped you hold your legs back when you pushed, and helped you count out your breathing. Hange attended to everything that might have made Levi faint, like checking your dilation and making sure the baby was coming out at the right angle. You got lucky having these two by your side.

Through all of your efforts, you finally hear a cry. You look up to see Levi holding your tiny new baby as Hange wiped them clean. He was smiling, way bigger than you’d ever seen him smile before, with tears in his eyes.

“Here,” he says softly, handing her to you.

You cradle her on your bare skin. “She’s so perfect, Levi! Look how sweet she is!” you coo.

“What are you going to call her?” he asks, stroking your hair as you gleam down at your baby.

“I was thinking,” you smile, “Kuchel.”

Levi lets out small gasp. Tears start streaming down his face, his efforts to stifle them failing.

“Really? I think that’s,” he wipes his eyes, “a wonderful name.”

—-

Dear Reiner,

She’s finally here! Oh my god, she’s precious. Levi and Hange helped to deliver her. Labor went smoothly. Levi started to cry when he saw her for the first time. She really is just that perfect. We are calling her Kuchel, after Levi’s mother. He cried when I told him that, too (don’t tell him I’m sharing those crying details.) I've decided to give her Levi’s last name as well.

Levi set up the perfect nursery for us.

If you really did feel guilty for leaving - don’t be. I’m happy.

She has your eyes.

Sincerely,

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

Kuchel said her first word today. Of course it wasn’t mama, she’s such a daddy’s girl. She started crawling awhile ago, we are now working on standing up on our own. She has all of this blonde curly hair, too. She’s growing up so fast.

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

Levi proposed a few days ago. It was so perfect. We found a nice house with room for a farm that will be perfect for a family.

I can only wonder how you’re doing, now that the war is over.

Are you even alive?

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

I’m expecting again. Levi is beyond excited. I am too, of course. Kuchel started school this year. She is such a smart kid.

I still wonder about you. After all these years.

Reader

—-

Message after message, word after word. No response. You had decided he must be dead. The devastation after the war would argue that he was.

That is, until you found yourself rummaging through one of Levi’s desk drawers, looking for baby Isabel’s lost pacifier.

You felt the bottom of the drawer shift. A false bottom?

You pry at it until it comes open.

Letters.

Dozens of opened letters. With Marleyan postage stamps.

You pull out the first bundle you see. They’re all from you. Unopened. Unsent. You set them aside, your jaw quivering.

You pull out the second bundle and gasp.

—-

Dear Reader,

Eren showed me your letter. I am terribly sorry. Let me fix this, somehow. You can come to live with me in Marley. I will take care of you. Please.

I’m not just a traitor, a liar, a farce. Everything between us was real. I can explain everything. Just trust me.

Love,

Reiner

—

Dear Reader,

Do you get my letters?

I’ve only heard rumors about our new baby girl. I wish I could see her. Just once. For a second. Do you have a camera? I know they’re hard to come by in Paradis. I can send one.

I’d do anything to change this. You know I would.

Love,

Reiner

—-

To Levi,

You son of a bitch. I know exactly what you’re doing. You think this is protecting her, but it’s not. Just let her talk to me. She would listen, she would understand. You said yourself that she writes. You manipulative, sick bastard. That is MY child. She will never be yours. No matter what you brainwash her to believe, your dirty Ackerman blood does not run through her veins. She deserves to know. You are the farce, Levi.

Reiner

—-

There were dozens more. All opened. All from Reiner.

You sink down to the floor, tears spilling from your eyes.

You are the farce, Levi.

But, why? He was just protecting you, right?

The office door opens. You jump, shoving the letters back into the drawer.

“Mommy, why are you crying?” Kuchel asks.

You take a deep breath, staring down at the letters, thinking about everything that could have been.

“Are you happy here, Kuchel?”

“Yes!” she chirps, “Every day!”

“Then it’s nothing, baby. Mommy just got hurt. She’s better now.”

Your daughter giggles and skips out of the room, leaving you to hide away the rest of the letters.

༺♥༻

I REALLY HOPE I understood your request, Anon! I actually had a lot of fun writing this. It isn't something I would normally think to write, but I'm so glad you shared this idea! Sorry for the sad ending, I love playing w people's emotions ;)

༺♥༻

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi aot #reiner x reader #reiner braun #reiner x you #levi x you #attack on titan #aot x reader #aot imagines #levi imagine #reiner imagine #snk reiner #snk levi #tw: pregnancy #tw: threats #tw: manipulation #tw: mentions of death

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marvel-vision · 3 years ago

Text

Second Life

Summary - Part two of five. Your second Life with Wanda.

Warnings - Death.

Words - 2.9k

All Parts

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You were six when they found you, huddled under a wooden cart, your parents bodies sprawled out beside you. They were kind then, coaxing you out with soft, kind words and gentle hands, it was hard not to trust them. They told you you were safe, that no one was going to hurt you, and being the naive child you were, you believed them. It had taken all of a day for them to lose their comforting facades, becoming rough and sharp the longer you were near them.

By nightfall you had been ushered into a large building, down bare hallways, and into a room of other young children. The room seemed too crowded for the amount of people in there, there certainly weren't enough beds, but you'd managed to squeeze in next to an older girl. She was young, older than you by a couple of years at most, and had the brightest hair you'd ever seen. She didn't seem to mind that you'd joined her in her bed so you closed your eyes and tried to sleep.

The days you were there blurred into weeks. Weeks into months. Months into years, and by then you were a whole new person. Gone was the little kid whose eyes shone bright at the thought of the world, and in their place stood a strong figure, one that knew there was nothing good in the world. The Red Court had made sure of that. There was no room for innocence in that place.

The enforcers of the Red Court were ruthless in their lessons. If you did something wrong you were punished. If you did something right you were punished. 'It's the way of the world' they'd say before continuing on as if nothing had happened. The punishments only got worse when one of The Generals favourites, the very same girl you had found comfort in that first night, defected away from the only home she had ever known. After that, any whisperings of leaving, of wanting more, were met with severe 'corrections'.

In the wake of all the lessons you recieved, you no longer dreamed of a life of your own, your sole focus was the organisation and becoming the best person in it. Your hard work paid off, as in the end you were the best, General Dreykov's new favourite. That's why you weren't surprised when you were called to his office immediately after returning from a mission.

Face void of any emotion and body tense as always, you knocked on the door to the office and took a step back, clasping your hands behind your back, the perfect picture of obedience. It wasn't long until you were allowed in, the door opening from the inside and closing with a resounding thud once you stepped through.

The room was much like the others in the facility, grey and dark, but the differences were obvious. The various paintings of Dreykov hanging on the walls and the desk in the centre left no misunderstandings for who this room belonged to, and who was in charge.

You stepped up to the edge of the desk, forgoing the chair beside you, and looked to The General for your new orders.

"Thank you for joining me, Y/N," Dreykov said, as if you had any choice to attend or not. "Your last job was completed perfectly, I have no doubt this new one is within your capability." You would have smiled if you wouldn't be punished for it.

"We've already had one person fail." Dreykov continued, his tone darkening and face souring. "And if you add to that failure, you'll receive a fate worse than death as a reward. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Good." His whole demeanour changed, as if he hadn't just threatened you, and continued, "Now, your next target is the Princess of Sokovia, I don't care how you do it, I just want it done. Also, the traitor I mentioned that failed, she works as the princesses personal guard. I want her dead too. You leave now, get it done."

You nodded once and left.

Getting into the princess's private quarters were easier then expected, for someone so high up in status, she didn't have nearly enough security in place. You circled the room, taking in everything you could about the princess before you met her, not that you'd do any talking, your plan was to take her life as soon as she walked through the doors.

You let yourself fall back onto her bed. It was the softest thing you'd ever felt, it was a shame that as soon as this was done you'd go back to the hard, lumpy, uncomfortable mattress provided by the Court. Spreading your hands against the silk sheets, you took a moment to bask in the calm, to centre your thoughts back on the mission. Leaving the comfort of the bed you moved to the opposite side of the room where a rather large desk was.

The various small objects scattered on the desk and in the drawers had little to no meaning to you, or anyone other than the princess you assumed, as none of the objects had a clear correlation. What a pointless waste of space. You would never get away with a desk like that in the Red Court, they would be clean and efficient.

Hearing steps coming from outside the door, you stepped into position, just out of sight of the entryway. You could hear muffled voices, one the princess for sure, and the other a guard, perhaps her guard, the traitor. They seemed to be having a hushed argument, that quiet you could only make out a few words like, 'don't', 'unwise' and 'certain death'.

Ultimately the princess ordered her guard away, a foolish move on her part, and started to turn the handle of her door.

As soon as the door had closed you were on her in a flash, her back to your front and a dagger to her neck. You were about to draw it across her throat when you caught sight of her in the mirror.

She was pretty. So very pretty. You just couldn't do it, you didn't even want to, which was strange. You'd done this hundreds of times with handsome men and women just as beautiful as she, but there was something that stopped you.

A voice in the back of your head telling you that taking her life would be a mistake, one that would ruin you in one way or another. You were too in your own head, admiring the woman, to notice you had dropped the blade and that she had called out for someone. When the door burst open and the guard ordered you to kneel with your hands straight out in front of you, you did so without hesitation.

Natasha cuffed your hands in heavy iron chains that slightly dug into the skin of your wrists and pulled you back up to your feet. She was unsure whether or not this was all a ruse or not, she knew how dangerous the assassins of the Red Court were, she was one herself at a point in her life.

Natasha looked to Wanda, silently asking what she was supposed to do with you, but just like you Wanda was in a trance. She stepped closer, raising a hand to just barely graze the side of your face when Natasha cleared her throat and brought Wanda back to reality.

"Take her to the cells."

"Are you sure, your highness, she's dangerous. It would be best to deal with the threat that she is now."

You spoke up then, still not taking your eyes away from the princess, "I am of no threat to you anymore, my lady, I swear it."

"Is that so?" In response to Wanda's question you nodded, "In that case, Natasha I want you to train her. Make her part of my personal guard."

Natasha stared in disbelief at the situation in front of her. "You can't be serious. She was sent here to kill you."

"If I'm not mistaken, you were sent to do the exact same thing. I gave you a second chance, did I not?"

Natasha bowed her head, said her goodbyes and dragged you along behind her.

Over the course of your training under Natasha, you barely saw Wanda. Only when Natasha deemed you fit for the position did you see her again.

You had been trailing just behind the princess the whole day, struggling to tear your eyes away from the woman, even from behind she was the most magnificent person in existence. You knew you were supposed to be watching the surroundings, making sure there was no danger but you were becoming increasingly aware that that would not be possible.

The princess reached the garden and sat on the bench overlooking the lake. You stood not too far, admiring her.

"You do that a lot, you know." The princess spoke up, looking over her shoulder to catch your eyes.

Not breaking eye contact you replied, "And what is it that I am doing?"

"Staring."

"Would you like me to stop?" You tilted your head slightly.

"No." Wanda blushed and turned back to look across the water. Patting the space next to her, she spoke up, "Sit with me?"

Without a second of hesitation, you took the few steps forward to sit by her side. The cold metal of your armour brushed against the soft skin of Wanda's arm, both of you wishing the thick layer of iron wasn't there.

Both of you sat in a comfortable silence, Wanda staring at the ripples on the surface of the water and you watching the peace in her eyes.

"Why do I feel so connected to you?" You asked, even if it was a bit out of turn to ask that of the princess. Before Wanda could answer, you spoke again, "Had you been anyone else I would have done it. I would have taken your life without an ounce of remorse and been back at the Red Court, ready for my next assignment."

Wanda wasn't even slightly fazed by your words. She knew that if someone else had said something like that to her she would be unnerved. But with you she knew, without a doubt, that she was safe. Choosing to respond to the question you asked, Wanda replied, "I feel it too, that connection. And I'm thankful for it. I'm thankful for you." Reaching over slowly, so that she could gauge your reaction, Wanda grabbed your hand.

You let a warm smile take over your features, admiring the tender touch from Wanda soothe all of your troubles. It quickly turned into a smirk, however, when you spoke up. "We can't do this. You're the princess, I'm the person sent to kill her. You are above me in every aspect. No one would allow it." Through the taunting Wanda could hear the sadness in your voice.

"We can. I'm the princess," Wanda emphasised, "I can order people not to care. I want you and only you, I don't care what people think about us."

Looking deep into her eyes, you knew she was being as sincere as possible. You leaned forward slowly, Wanda doing the same, and connected your lips in a sweet kiss. To others it looked like nothing special, but to the both of you it was everything. With your eyes closed you barely pulled back, your lips still brushing.

The breathy laugh you let out nearly had Wanda stopping to question what was so funny, but she was promptly cut off by your lips once again on hers, this time slightly harder, more rushed.

You and Wanda were finally together. No one, but Natasha, knew per your request, it wasn't that you were ashamed or worried, you just preferred to keep it between you. What you had was something special, something that you didn't want tainted by the passing comments of others.

You stayed by Wanda's side day and night, using the excuse of protection when questioned why you'd accompany her to bed. Things in your life were finally perfect.

You were lying by Wanda's side in the large bed when you said it. You'd never said it before, not that you remembered, but you were certain it was the right time, the right person, to say it to. Those three little words, "I love you"

Wanda returned the sentiment not even a second after you had said it. A small little "Always" mumbled just after.

You pulled her further into, preparing to go back to sleep when loud and rushed knocks echoed throughout the room. "Princess. Y/N. Get up, the king needs you in the throne room now." You sat up, placating Wanda's groans of protest with a quick kiss to her head.

"Alright Natasha, we'll be down soon."

"Now."

"Fine. We're coming now." You rolled your eyes, helping Wanda into her gown and then getting back into your armour.

With one last kiss, you left the room, following slightly behind Wanda, wishing to reach out and hold her hand. Finally arriving in the throne room, Wanda took her seat beside her brother.

"What is it you called me here for father? You know I hate waking at these ungodly hours."

"Wanda, I hate to do this but with the mounting tension coming from our neighbouring countries we need to put in place-" The king paused, preparing himself for his daughter's rage, "a marriage."

"For Pietro. I agree."

"No Wanda. None of the nobility surrounding us has any daughters, believe it or not. Only sons. King Ultron has offered his only son, Vision, for your hand." Wanda sat in stunned silence. There was no way she was going to marry anyone that was not you.

"But father-"

Wanda was cut off by the King's apologetic smile. "I'm sorry Wanda. I know you already have a love," He looked over to you briefly, "but you have to think about what's best for Sokovia. Prince Vision will be arriving tomorrow."

Without a word Wanda launched herself from her chair and stormed from the room. You followed after her, despite your training you struggled to keep up with the fleeing princess.

"Wanda-" being close enough, you reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her back into your chest. Her sobs were muffled against you, the only sounds being heard were your quiet words of comfort. "It's okay Wanda. I'll always be with you."

"Always?"

"Always." You affirmed.

Watching the love of your life marry someone else hurt, but you knew her heart would always belong to you, the way yours was hers. It became increasingly difficult to find time with the Princess after her marriage, her bed now shared with her husband, but that didn't stop the brief moments of calm out by the lake you got together. Being her guard meant you had to be with her at all times. Prince Vision ordered you to be more protective of her once he found out she was carrying his heirs.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep pretending she was just your princess and not your everything. You couldn't do it anymore. You approached her with a choice, she could leave with you. You'd live far away and be together and you'd raise his children as your own. Or she could stay, live the life that she was born for and you could leave. The Prince had given you a new position at the head of his army, and if she didn't want to leave with you, you'd accept his offer.

"Don't make me choose. That is unfair." Wanda exclaimed.

"Please Wanda. Living like this, you not being able to be mine in every way, it's killing me. Join me. We can be free."

The offer was tempting, but she couldn't. She loved you, she did, but she couldn't leave her brother, her patents, the only life she'd known. You could see in the way her eyes avoided yours that she wouldn't be coming with you. Bowing your head you walked out of the room and out of her life.

Years later, when Wanda was Queen and her Husband King, and their little prince's running around at their feet, Wanda received the news from Natasha.

You were dead. You had been fighting against a growing force. Hydra, an army of hundreds, led by Lord Strucker, looking to overthrow Sokovia. Strucker had been heading straight for Vision when you stepped in the way, blade drawn and ready to fight. Both Natasha and Vision had watched as both swords clashed together, and when they thought you were about to die, with your last ounce of strength, you had rammed your sword through Strucker, both falling to your knees.

You had died a hero both her husband and friend had said, hoping to bring some comfort to her, but all she could feel was regret. Regret that she didn't just leave with you.

When Wanda fell ill some years later, laying on her deathbed, so small and fragile, surrounded by friends and family, she couldn't help but smile. Because at the end of the blinding light, she could see you, arm outstretched and waiting for her to finally join you. You could finally live that peaceful life with her.

#Wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #Wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #my writing

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windblooms · 4 years ago

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childe scenario – after the golden house

you, an ex-fatui executive, decide against your better judgment and tend to the wounds of the near-dead 11th harbinger following his duel at the golden house. spoilers for the 1.1 archon quest.

gender-neutral reader. enemies to lovers soft spot syndrome. sfw, but contains mentions of blood/injury. also childe briefly in foul legacy armor. canon-divergence. 2669 words (nice).

with the fatui’s nails so deep into the city, staying in liyue probably wasn’t your brightest idea in retrospect.

you blame your sentimentality of liyue on the exact same thing that caused you to leave the fatui in the first place: wanting to live without fear. while the fatui treated you well enough, as you were considerably efficient in your ranks, being part of a partially underground, partially illegal business wasn’t exactly the most liberating practice either. it didn’t take long for you to realize that, behind their scheming and pretenses of fair economics, the fatui would have their underlings wound so incredibly tight around their fingers that their violent tasks would rapidly become suffocating.

that is, once you were in the fatui, getting out would be akin to scaling qingyun peak with one arm tied behind your back.

the only reason you were able to? because you ran. you were desperate for a new life, sure, but also you weren’t below realizing when something was out of the question. it took a few months to shake them off your trail, having to move constantly between fontaine and mondstadt, but you finally settled in liyue.

it was a quiet, peaceful city. the governing body was fair enough with its jurisdictions, and after a year of hiding, you were able to enjoy the lantern rite festival without fear.

that is, until the northland bank sat its obnoxious ass down the street.

archons, really, once you found a place you thought was safe enough, you’d have to start moving again. initially, you reasoned that it had been over a year, and that the fatui surely wouldn’t go hunting for a runaway executive. hell, you weren’t even that high on the ladder. however, a few run-ins with scaramouche and pulcinella had left you paranoid enough that, if they spotted you, they would surely put an end to your traitorism.

honestly, you should’ve ratted them out to the knights of favonius while you were in mondstadt. make a quick bargain, have jean toss a few coins your way, and you would be set. it would’ve definitely been worth the trouble, now with the knowledge that the fatui were your neighbors.

now, there’s no time to dwell on what you could’ve done. it’s either run again, or hold your ground right under the fatui’s nose. you might, sort of, maybe, probably do not have the funds to move for the third time in a row, but maybe counting couldn’t hurt –

no, yeah, it hurts, you grimace as you slide the coin bag back in your bedside drawer. outside, it’s dark, and the sky seems a bit more disturbed than usual. it isn’t usually overcast in liyue, and the blue lightning does nothing to quell your unease. the streets are also empty, but lights illuminate each building.

from your window, a quick glance towards the northland bank reveals to you that it is uncharacteristically dark. no lanterns, no lights. you frown, troubled that the individuals you were so alert to monitoring, had a lifeless stronghold. not typical of them at all.

so, you decide while your long-time enemies are plotting (or whatever they’re doing that prompts them to close an entire bank for), now might be the best time to potentially make a run for it, light coin bag be damned.

hastily, you rid your apartment of personal belongings by unceremoniously shoving them into your bag. if it’s one thing you were grateful for in this world, it’s archon magic. you don’t fuss over the science behind it, but whatever made your bag feel like a bottomless pit was an actual life-saver. packing is extremely efficient with it, and in less than fifteen minutes, you’re ready to go.

all that’s left is to write a thank-you note to the liyuen couple who let you stay while their son was out exorcising. at the time, they assured you that you would be no trouble for you to take up a guest room, but nonetheless you tried to pay them with whatever you had left over after commissions.

you grab a writing utensil, still feeling a bit rude to leave on such short notice, and swear to yourself that you’ll visit in the future. for good measure (after sullenly looking into your coin bag), you leave an acceptable(-ish) amount of mora on your former bed.

all right. now, time to leave, with your foot out the door and wind scratching at your face, as if the odd overhead weather wasn’t already an omen.

you’re barely past liyue harbor, headed towards the luhua pools, when a comet shoots above you past mount tianheng. no, not a comet, you realize as it dips from the sky, headed for landfall around a kilometer away. a comet of water?

if a dead northland bank wasn’t the nail in the coffin, this surely is. you’ve been around enough in the fatui to know that whatever fell from the sky has to be the work of a vision user, or some more powerful being. turning towards where you estimate to be the crash site, you weigh your options. you’re already outside of the city, and the fatui are probably preoccupied. you can manage a detour for now and inspect the hydro-apparition. regardless, you deem that the farther away you are from the water you are, the safer you might be from what’s about to happen – you look back towards liyue harbor, and nearly shudder at the rising tide and choppy waves.

after about fifteen minutes of walking in the rain, you find yourself between the slope of the dunyu ruins and mount tianheng. it’s vacant, save for the weathered ruins, and a sizable crater meters wide. cautiously, you approach the edge, summoning your sword with one hand and conjuring your vision in the other. you’re not going to let curiosity kill the cat, especially not if this turns out to be a prank by the archons.

in the center of the mess is, well, another mess. you blink a few times, wary, as you discern that an individual lies in the rubble. they’re actually conscious, you soon find out, as they righten themselves from the fetal position into a kneel, supporting their body weight with their arms. their body is covered head-to-foot in dark, purple armor, and a red mask with a broken, center orb gleams faintly in the night.

it is only when you the individual looks up at you, straight at your head, do you realize that you should not be here this was a bad idea –

and then they collapse.

“shit,” you murmur to yourself, vision still pulsing in your palm, which has become increasingly sweaty. you step back from the edge as an orb of water surrounds the armored-being, encasing him like a cocoon, before dissipating to reveal a much more vulnerable, tired man underneath. his hair is matted to his face from the rain, yet a much smaller mask rests on his eyes; his clothes are somewhat torn (you suspect that whatever had happened, his armor absorbed most of the damage), and you can very faintly see his chest heave.

but, ah, speaking of his clothes,

they were the colors of the fatui.

“no, no, bad idea,” you tell yourself over and over again, sword put away yet vision still bouncing in your hands. you walk away from the crater briefly, before walking towards it again, peaking down to check on the fallen man, and then scamper back. the whole idea was to run away, not go straight to them, as if you had managed to doom yourself after all.

pacing back and forth, you contemplate for another minute. he’s clearly injured, with how he’s laying on the ground and not moving, so the nice, not-so-hardened part of you wants to help him. if he was a regular civilian, surely you’d already be down there and trying to take him back to liyue and patch him up, but he’s with the enemy. no way someone who can transform into armor is just an underling, so he’s probably someone exceptionally powerful –

“i see you,” a voice comes from the crater, and your vision nearly explodes in your hands from your nerves. summoning your sword quicker than you ever have in your life, you steel yourself towards the bottom of the crater.

except, he’s not holding a weapon to your face, or threatening to skewer you into a million pieces. except, he’s not scowling at you, or demanding you assist him at once before he blows something up.

instead, he’s on his knees. looking up at you with the desperation of a man completely robbed, crippled from something he can’t speak of yet wants to scream about. his eyes, now free from the mask, pierce into you with a vividness that could rival the richest hues of luhua, and archons damn it do you melt.

you melt, and realize you should run away. you melt, all while cursing yourself, that this man might not be so kind as to spare you in the future, when he’s back at his full health. you melt, thinking that, well, you haven’t seen him before, so maybe he doesn’t know who you are either. you melt, even as you extinguish your vision and put away your sword, and slide to the bottom of the crater to lug his limp body back to the top, to the shelter of the ruins, and rummage through your bag for medicine.

he hasn’t said anything for the past ten minutes, and you’re thankful that there’s finally someone from the fatui who can keep their mouth shut, even if this is half-beaten to death. “you’re not dying on me,” you insist, as if your words could will him back to full consciousness. “not when i’m risking my life for someone like you.”

as you work on bandaging his arm, out of the corner of your eye you swear you see his mouth twitch. is he trying to speak? no, you want some silence for a bit longer, but pause as you notice a gash on his torso.

“this is medically consensual, okay?” you wait two seconds to see if he objects, before unbuttoning the lower part of his coat and applying pressure on the wound. the blood has soaked through his clothes, and just as eagerly, seeps into the cloth you’re shoving against it. the man stirs as you continue to clean his wounds, and when his eyes open, you’re too preoccupied with your short supply of towels to notice.

when you’re aware of a gaze on you, however, you turn towards him with a hardened face. you already know what you’re going to say. even if he doesn’t know who you are, you’re going to make it clear that, for your own satisfaction, you won’t help him back to liyue and he’ll have to make the walk himself.

“you were out there,” you say simply, motioning towards the crater with a nod of your head. “i’ll patch you up, but you’ll have to get further help yourself.”

the man with eyes of the deep regards you, but you busy yourself by applying gauze. he’s propped up against a pillar, and you’re crouching at his side. when you’re about finished, only then do you meet his eyes.

he beats you to whatever you’re about to say. “i didn’t think,” he starts, and you’re already frowning, “that you’d come back.”

ah, referencing when you practically left him in the crater. his words are vague enough when he says that you ‘came back’ that you aren’t too tense, and you indulge him in a bit of silence before responding. “not like i’m used to rescuing people who fall from the sky.”

despite his injuries, the man manages a laugh. he seems almost flustered at your statement, although you can’t understand why. underneath his soaked bangs, his eyebrows rise, and he seems almost . . . nervous? you can’t possibly fathom as to why, but dismiss your curiosity. the more small talk he coerces you into, the longer you’ll spend with him.

you finish sealing the gauze, tossing the roll back into your bag before commanding it to disappear. blood has soaked into the ground at his sides, also you’re sure that it’ll was away with time. you’re about to stand up, satisfied with your good-samaritan duties for the day, when he stops you by locking his fingers around your wrist.

he’s in the middle of saying something, but you refuse to let him, drawing your sword and pointing it directly at his throat, his mouth agape as he releases his hold on you. you consider each other, and when you’re certain you have the upper hand, you draw your line.

you spit the words like venom. “do not touch me, fatui. i’ve done what i can for you, and you won’t be getting anything else from me.”

your blade doesn’t lower from his form, and as you stand above him, you regard his hands, as if he might summon his own weapons in an instant. if he’s smart (which you think he is yet simultaneously pray he isn’t), he’s probably plotting how to get out of your sword’s reach. you’re not going to let him, after you’ve been so self-sacrificing, putting your life on the line for someone affiliated with the organization that suffocated the life out of you.

a tilt of the head, yet silence from his mouth. he seems surprised that, while you allowed him to laugh mere moments earlier, you’re now pointing your weapon at him, although something in the ease of his facial features tells you that he’s not concerned in the slightest.

“i wanted to say thank you,” he breathes finally, and you look as if he’d just punched you in the gut. “being in your position probably isn’t easy, and i’m the last one you wanted to see, but you still . . . ”

fuck, no, not this. you don’t know if he’s a prophet, if he knows who you really are, or the ‘i’m on the run’ stamp on your forehead is that obvious, but you aren’t going to fall for the fatui’s words. your fists clench, and you once more prepare to denounce his organization,

and you’re disarmed in an instant, sword thrown to the side and fingers restricted by his larger grasp. archons, you couldn’t even see him move, what a deceptive bastard, feigning injury –

“stop,” he hushes, and despite your fury you register it as a plea, not a command. the man repeats himself, before continuing, “we won’t haunt you any more; i’ll make sure of it.”

five seconds, then ten. you had determined that his grip was too strong to break free of, and are left in no position to move unless he releases you. he holds your gaze without a hint of malice, even though you try your hardest to find any in his eyes.

when he does let go of you, fingers skimming past your flesh, you run faster than you ever have before.

you run, past the ruins, past the harbor, and until you can’t see liyue behind you any more. you run, unable to see a palace fall from the sky and crash into the ocean, and until you’re surrounded by mountains and there’s not a ginkgo tree in sight. you run, unsure if his words are true, but certain that he knows who you are.

you won’t trust him. as you lay on the ground, wheezing to catch the air that’s left your lungs, you once again swear to yourself that you can’t trust the words of the fatui.

as the northland bank lights ignite themselves in welcome of its master, childe presses a hand to his bandaged torso. a spark of your vision lingers between his fingers, and he observes it before it disappears.

he’s already hurt enough people. he heads to the second floor, and erases your name from the fatui files.

#genshin impact #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe scenarios #childe headcanons #hurt comfort #angst #enemies to lovers #childe stans are feral #but im friends with so many of them :^)

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heartsofbeskar · 4 years ago

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the red wolf

chapter one: two swords

oberyn martell x fem!reader

WARNINGS: mentions and descriptions of violence (GOT canon typical), talk of death, language

WORDS: 3.5K

EXCERPT: Sunlight streamed through the window, the painted glass covering the two of you in an array of colours. When you had arrived in King’s Landing, you were sure it was the most beautiful place you had ever been. How could Winterfell compare to this sunlight and sea and splendor? But the longer you stayed, the more you saw that the beauty was but a thin layer, covering the stench of violence and greed.

A/N: this is in second person, but the reader insert character belongs to a canon house which of course implies physical characteristics, including her being white! (ik this is a problem for some reader inserts being coded white so i wanted to address it here)

masterlist

Your hands trembled as they threaded through the soft, red locks. You used to do this when she was younger, you recalled, when she couldn’t sleep or was feeling ill or had a frightful dream.

It wasn’t just a dream this time.

Her shaky breath was warm against your neck, and you pulled her head closer in against you. Tears fell down the front of your bodice and you swallowed thickly, as you felt a familiar burn behind your own eyes. You willed the tears not to fall.

“It isn’t fair,” came her voice, impossibly small, against your bare skin. Her hands gripped tightly into the dense fabric of your skirts. “He wasn’t a traitor.”

You shushed her gently, your free hand ghosting up and down her back. You longed for the days when she was small enough for you to collect her in your lap, hold her close to your breast, as your mother had done for you both.

Another sob wracked her body, and you squeezed your eyes painfully shut at the sound. You hated it, you hated this. How you couldn’t protect her, or your father, or your brothers, or anyone.

“Sansa,” you whispered, taking her face in your hands, tilting it up to look into yours. Your heart shattered again at the sight of her, skin glistening with her tears, eyes and lips swollen and flushed from crying. You rested your forehead against hers, thumbs stroking her over delicate features. “You cannot say those things outside of this room. Tell me you know this, please.”

Your voice broke on the last word, emotion clawing its way up your throat. You loathed to ask this of her, to harden her once trusting and open spirit even further, but you needed her to know it. You wouldn’t give the Lannisters any excuse to hurt her, too.

“I do,” she choked out, fresh tears spilling over. You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, pulling her back into your arms.

Sunlight streamed through the window, the painted glass covering the two of you in an array of colours. When you had arrived in King’s Landing, you were sure it was the most beautiful place you had ever been. How could Winterfell compare to this sunlight and sea and splendor? But the longer you stayed, the more you saw that the beauty was but a thin layer, covering the stench of violence and greed.

“We are Starks, my sweet sister.” You resumed combing through Sansa’s long hair; you weren’t sure if it was a comfort to her or to you. “We will not yield.”

—

The great walls of Winterfell rose behind you, as your feet carried you through the tall grass that grew uncontrolled just outside the keep’s gates. Small creatures darted to and fro under its cover. A gentle wind blew across your face, pushing your hair to the side. You heard the call of a wild raven overhead.

Winter bounded past you, the direwolf’s strong limbs carrying him far ahead of you with ease, though his grey speckled coat made him easy to find against the late summer colours of the grass. He turned back to look at you, mouth wide open in a pant, then gave an impatient bark. You laughed, shaking your head.

“You know I cannot keep up!” You called out to him, as if he could understand your reply. But ever since Winter had been a small pup, brought to Winterfell by your brothers with the rest of the litter, it had felt like he could. All the time you had trained him, he had tilted his head at your affirmations and musings, and had burrowed into your side when you were upset. It was an inexplicable connection between the two of you.

He waited patiently for you now, tail wagging and legs bouncing in excitement. He always loved these excursions outside the walls, and it provided a convenient excuse for you. As much as you loved to blame Winter and his need to get out for air, the same desire always burned within you as well.

Your bow and arrow shifted across your back as you increased your pace. The tips of your fingers grazed across the flowers that periodically sprung up from the dense grass. You made a note to pick some on your way back, for Sansa and little Rickon. You knew they’d enjoy them.

The treeline seemed to swallow the sun overhead as you passed beneath it, relishing in the coolness of the air here. Of course, the air had become cooler and cooler with every day that passed now. Winter is coming, your father harped on. And he was right, as usual. The arrival of your first winter sent a trickle of excitement through your entire body whenever you dwelt on it. Mother and father and Uncle Benjen had told you stories of winter, of the endless white and sparkling ice which could drip from the overhangs in the courtyard.

Winter ran excited circles around you as you set your quiver against the ground. You signalled to him with your hand, a communication in the language only the two of you spoke, and he settled promptly down to the ground, back end still wiggling with excitement. But he knew the best was yet to come if he waited.

Pointing the bow at the ground, you pulled an arrow from the quiver, resting it and nocking it against the string. Hooking two of your fingers around the end of the arrow, you scanned your eyes across the shadowed forest floor.

Before long, a movement caught your eye. A small rabbit sat, just a few yards ahead of you, chewing on some of the greenery there. You brought the arrow slowly, silently, up to your eye level, barely daring to breathe, lest you scare timid the creature away. You gripped the bow tightly in your opposite hand. Bringing the string straight backwards to sit next to your face, you tried to envision the path once you released it. Taking one last deep breath, you snapped your fingers off the string.

The arrow flew, fast and long through the air, and finally — fell a few feet left of the rabbit, spooking it into running deeper into the woods.

“Shit,” you cursed, collecting the wayward projectile from where it had sunk into the earth.

“Now, I don’t think your mother would appreciate that language.” A deep voice emerged from behind you, exciting Winter to stand and jump once around again.

“Father!” You gasped, whirling around. “I am so sorry, I know I shouldn’t speak that way, I would never—”

He held up a hand to cut off your babble, a small smile settling on his time weathered face. “It’s alright. I have cursed too many times to reprimand it from any of my children.”

You mirrored his smile, moving to stand beside him. You looked down at your bow a little sheepishly. “I was just trying to practice a bit. You know how Jon and Robb like to tease.”

“I do.” He placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “But you shouldn’t be out here alone, sweet.”

“I have Winter with me.”

He laughed at that, moving his hand now to scratch behind the ears of the direwolf still pacing eagerly between the two of you. Winter yipped in excitement, pushing up against his hand.

“Winter is about as ferocious as a newborn babe,” he teased. “The opposite of Greywind, might I add. Anyone but Robb approaches, and that wolf is on alert.”

“Winter just has a gentle heart, is all.” You drop to one knee, letting the direwolf nuzzle into your chest, stroking his soft ears.

“It’s not unlike the differences between you and Robb, truth be told. Strange, how you can share a womb with another living being, and yet grow to be so distinct.” He had a far away expression on his face when you looked up. You stood again, allowing him to grasp your hands in his.

“You’re not here just to chastise me for going beyond the walls.” You knew, too well, the expression on Ned Stark’s face when he had to speak of things he didn’t want to.

He nodded. “Sweet child … you know I have nothing but respect for you and your choices. But, I am afraid it has become an unavoidable truth. Your mother and I have discussed this, and we have decided that once we arrive in King’s Landing, we need to decide on a man for you to marry.”

Your face was impassive as you considered his words. You knew in any other family, in any other man’s house, you would have been wed as soon as you’d bled for the first time. But your father had allowed you to grow and mature past that, and you cherished those years, holding them close to your heart. You squeezed his hands.

“I know, Father. And I am happy to do my duty as the eldest daughter of the house. You needn't feel guilty — I know you won’t marry me to a monster.” Your lips quirked upwards. And it was true; you had the utmost trust in your father that he would choose someone kind, someone level headed. That he would make a match considering your wishes, too, and it would be a life you could grow to love a man in.

He sighed, shoulders sagging in relief. You wondered if the prospect of marrying his first daughter, his first child, was more difficult for him than it was for you. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re a good daughter. But still a mediocre marksman; come, let me show you where you went wrong,” he said, picking up your discarded bow and quiver.

—

You longed to be in those woods now, with your wolf and your father and your bow. In your home. All the beauty and splendor and opulence of King’s Landing could never erase the horrors you’d endured here.

You glanced behind you, where Tyrion and her handmaiden were trying their best to implore Sansa to eat something. There was an impressive array of foods strewn about the small table, though your younger sister touched none of them.

As you watched, her handmaiden — whom you suspected was no handmaiden at all, given her incompetence at her job — rose from the table, shooting a glare at Lord Tyrion.

“She needs to eat,” she quipped, looking up at you briefly before she left, her light skirts swaying gently as she retreated down the garden path.

You turned and sat slowly in her vacated seat, saying nothing. Sansa didn’t spare you a glance, her eyes vacant as she continued to look at the table in front of her, not really seeing it.

“I can’t let you starve,” Tyrion implored. You bit back the remark on the edge of your tongue. How amusing it was to think of a Lannister caring for a Stark’s wellbeing. Even if it was the Stark he’d been wed to. “I swore to protect you. My lady, I am your husband. Let me help you.”

“How can you help me?”

“I don’t know, but I can try.”

“I lie awake all night staring at the canopy, thinking about how they died.” This you knew to be true, as those past nights you had curled yourself around her, in her marital bed, unable to sleep, but equally unable to leave her alone in this place. Sansa continued.

“Do you know what they did to my brother? How they sewed his direwolf’s head onto his body?” You shut your eyes tightly, images of Robb coming unbidden to the back of your eyelids. His gentle smile, his awful jokes, his tenderness as you’d raised that very direwolf alongside your own. “And my mother. They cut her throat to the bone and threw her body in the—”

“Sansa, please,” you choked out. You could not take any more, or surely the tears you had so desperately supressed for days would finally emerge. She sent a cool glance your way, but stopped.

Tyrion cast his eyes down; you could tell he was carefully considering his next words. Ever the silver tongue. “What happened to your family was a terrible crime. I didn’t know your brother. He seemed like a good man, but I didn’t know him. Your mother, I admired her. She wanted to have me executed, but I admired her. She was a strong woman. And she was fierce when it came to protecting her children. Sansa … your mother would want you to carry on. Both of you. You know it’s true.”

Sansa didn’t make any indication she had heard his valiant speech. Good, you thought to yourself. She stood, hands lightly falling onto the edge of the table. “Will you pardon me, my Lord? I’d like to visit the godswood.”

“Of course,” Tyrion nodded enthusiastically, brows drawn together. The scar you knew he’d gotten during the Battle of Blackwater Bay was deep set above one eye. “Prayer can be helpful, I hear.”

“I don’t pray any more,” she said quietly, as she began walking away. “It’s the only place I go where people don’t talk to me.”

You watched her form as she walked away, knowing she wouldn’t want you to follow. Your heart felt like it was being crushed inside your chest at the sight of it, at the knowledge that you could do nothing for her pain. Nothing for your own pain, even.

Tyrion appeared conflicted, eyes looking between where his wife had now left, and you where you remained seated. You took a deep breath, straightening your back.

“You needn’t stay and pretend to care for me as well,” she quipped, jaw tense. “... my Lord.”

Another Lord, another Lannister even, would have struck you. But perhaps marrying your child sister had curbed that edge in Tyrion, for he said nothing else before taking his leave from you.

As he turned the corner in the path, you sighed, dropping your shoulders. You stood from the table, returning to your previous spot, overlooking the sea. You let out a shaking breath as you leaned against the short garden wall.

The sea churned beneath you, it's great waves smashing ferociously on the rocks below. It smelled of salt and wind and you tried desperately to fill your lungs with it, to wash away every other feeling inside of you.

“A wolf of winter in the summer gardens; a strange sight indeed.” A lilting, accented voice came up behind you. Turning, you saw a tall man adorned in mustard robes, accents of fine jewelry hanging from his neck, on his hands, wrists, everywhere you could see. His skin was tan, golden, in a way you had never seen before, and the top of his robe exposed the start of a golden chest. His neatly trimmed beard and hair were dark, but not as dark as his eyes, which bore into you now.

You noticed the red suns stitched into the fabric of his robes — House Martell. Your father would never forgive you if you forgot all those long lessons on the great families of Westeros.

“My Lord,” you inclined your head politely in his direction, willing your body into the proper posture. “You’ve arrived from Dorne, for the wedding I presume?”

The man raised an eyebrow at you, stepping closer, until he stood directly in front of you. One step forward and you would be in direct contact with the expanse of his chest.

“You paid attention to your schooling on Houses,” he said lightly. He reached down to grab one of your hands that hung by your side, bringing it slowly up to his lips. “I am Prince Oberyn, indeed of Dorne. Forgive my manners, but I do not believe I need an introduction to you, Lady Stark.”

His dark eyes held yours, as he leaned in further. You could feel his breath on your face. It was pleasantly warm, and smelled of … oranges? “I heard of the tragic events that befell your family, at the hands of your benefactors.” He spit the last word.

“I do not know what you mean,” you breathed out. You pleaded with him with your eyes, please don’t do this; don’t make me speak it where they can hear. “The Lannisters have been most kind and generous to me and my sister, more than we deserve even. My family …” You swallowed thickly; your skin felt hot despite the shade. “My family betrayed the crown, and has paid their price.”

Oberyn’s brows drew together in a worried expression as he studied your face. You didn’t look away from his gaze, holding him there, trying not to show a crack in the facade. He ran a light hand up your arm, and though he barely touched you, a shiver ran across your skin. It came to rest on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing small circles over the fabric there.

“Little wolf, I assure you that the Lannisters are no friends of mine.” Something dark flashed in his eyes, for only a moment, so fleeting you weren’t even sure it had been there. “They have ripped apart my family with their teeth, also.”

You felt that particular burn in your eyes, and you pressed your nails into the palms of your hands, willing it away. You eyed the man’s hand where it still sat on your shoulder.

“Yet you break bread with them, do you not?” Your eyes were glued onto his as they cast downwards. “You come peacefully to King’s Landing, you bring wedding gifts for King Joffrey, and you drink from their cups.”

Your breathing was heavy now, emotion you had pushed into the deepest parts of yourself leaking out. You shut your eyes, shaking your head. This was a Prince.

“I … I am sorry, Prince Oberyn, I should not have—” He cut you off, gently pressing a hand to the side of your face. The skin of his fingers was rough, calloused, no doubt from years of fighting.

“You do not need to apologize, little wolf.”

“You shouldn’t call me that here.”

The side of his mouth quirked upwards at that, one delicate brow arching. It transformed the planes of his face, and you found yourself transfixed on the shapes and textures set into his tanned skin.

“I do believe we are alone here, little wolf.” Teasing now, he used the nickname with purpose. You liked the shape of it on his lips, though you still fought the overwhelming urge to peer over your shoulder at whoever may be watching.

“You don’t understand, my Lord.” You shook your head again, and his hand fell from your cheek. “King’s Landing is a pit of snakes. And they are always — always — listening. You are a Prince of Dorne and I…” You didn’t finish. I am nothing but a stupid girl who waited too long to marry, is too old for the King, is tainted and stained with the stench of my family’s rebellion. I am doused in their blood, being made to drown in it.

Your palm felt wet, drawing your attention down. Opening it, you saw blood welling from the four small crescent shaped tears that now appeared in the delicate skin there. Oberyn’s eyes followed yours, and they softened at the sight, cupping your hand in both of his. They were so large around yours, and steady.

“I am a Prince of Dorne,” he said, his voice quiet, not looking at your face. He pulled a handkerchief from the inside of his robe, next to his chest. Gently, he wrapped it around the palm of your hand, seemingly unbothered by the blood which immediately began to blot onto it. Many moons had taught you that blood never came off. Tying it secure under your knuckles, he met your eyes, lifting your head with a finger under your chin. “And if this is indeed a pit of snakes, it is a good thing you are in the company of the Viper. Your words — all of your words — are safe with me, little wolf.”

You wanted so badly to believe him, to think that there was someone in this wretched place you could trust, outside of your sister. That a man was really looking upon you with kind, genuine eyes, for the first time since they’d taken your father’s head from his shoulders.

The sea crashed particularly forcefully below, startling you. He leaned back now, pulling his hands away from you, and you immediately missed their warmth. As if he had carried the Dornish sun within his very body, all the way to King’s Landing. He kissed your unwrapped hand again, briefly, and he sent you another smile before beginning to retreat, hands clasped behind his back.

At the mouth of the garden entrance, he turned halfway, face playful now. “I should like to make strolling in these gardens a daily habit whilst I’m here; there is so much to see. Would you care to join me in that?”

You nodded, smiling; a small one, but the first smile you remembered giving genuinely to someone in a long time.

A/N: aaah this was so fun to do that i ended up finishing it waaay sooner than i thought i would! so excited to see what people think!! also it will probably end up being oberyn x ellaria x reader bc... i love her and i love bisexuals

taglist: @asta-lily @pedrostories

#game of thrones #oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #oberyn martell fanfiction #mywriting #the red wolf

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roger-that-cap · 4 years ago

Text

all the flowers will bloom

summary: you would have never tried to leave your mother if you knew that bringing that pomegranate tree back to life was your ticket to the underworld. or, maybe you would have, because it turned out that hades was quite the opposite of the evil goddess that you had been drilled to know.

warnings: upset mothers, insecure gods, romantic revelations, idk what to call this-

word count: 4.2k

part four!

You skipped Natasha’s escorting and went to the level yourself, crouching in the same area you had been working over and immediately putting your hands into the dry and brittle soil, sighing when you remembered that you forgot the water.

You didn’t even realize how long you had been there until the sound of metal crashing on the ground next to you came, and there was a watering pail right by you.

“You need this.”

You didn’t bother to look at her, but you smiled. “Thanks.” You saw her nod out of the corner of your eye. You remembered that you couldn’t bring life when you felt so submerged in death, so you closed your eyes and took a breath.

Something moved under your hand.

You yanked your hand off of the spot out of pure shock. “Good-”

Natasha was closer to you than you realized, hovering over and looking for something that went wrong. “What?”

“Something- something did something!” You breathed out, eyes wide as you blinked at the ground. You stammered out something unintelligible before slamming your hand back down, feeling for the familiar feeling of a root wiggling its way through the earth. You were sure you felt it. “Water,” you called for softly, and you felt Natasha water the spot, some of it splashing onto your hand. “That’s enough, don’t drown it.”

If you were any less excited about getting the feel of something, you would have laughed about how you just demanded Hades, Goddess of the Dead, to water a single plant that hadn’t even sprouted yet. And how she actually listened to you.

You lifted your hand off and bent your face down into the dirt, whispering to the poor thing that was fighting so hard, giving words of encouragement as your heart began to race. You could feel the older goddess hovering over, and though her expression didn’t show it, she was just as eager to see if something was coming.

“Come to me,” you said, trying your hardest to stay calm despite tour heart racing and threatening to beta out of your chest. You knew that if you got any more excited that it wasn’t going to grow correctly. Your hands were shaking as you touched the dirt again, prodding it lightly. “You’ve got it, seedling. Grow.”

Slowly, as slowly as a bated breath finally being released, a small bud clawed its way out of barren ground. The bud was a pure white, and as it grew taller, neither you or Natasha were able to speak. When it reached its full height and stopped, you immediately jumped back into conversation with it.

“That’s it, flower. You’ve got it.” Your voice shook as you watched the flower react to you, bending ever so slowly to your will and your energy. In a show of silent whispers and shaking hands, you and Natasha both witnessed a single flower open up from the inside and show off a gorgeous yellow, a circle that stood out from the pronounced, purely white petals.

It was as silent as the dead.

After a few heavy moments, full of joy and confusion and everything in between, you heard Natasha clear her throat, the sound hesitant as she grappled for words. “You… you did it.” It was silent for a moment. “You actually did it, Persephone.”

You didn’t even bother to correct her. “I grew it.” You said softly to yourself, eyes fixed right on the singular flower, all by itself and looking quite dismal in comparison to its surroundings, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “It’s alive.”

“I can’t believe you did it.”

You whipped around at her words, a brilliant smile on your face, showing teeth and happiness that could have been seen from miles away. “I did it!” You looked back at the flower, strong and beautiful, astonished by your own strength even though it only showed in one demonstration.

Maybe you could go home. Just maybe.

Part of you didn’t even truly understand the gravity of what you had done, or what you had managed to do. You grew something in a land that was known historically to be infertile. You had grown a flower in a place where everyone knew that it was impossible. You had just opened a major door for everything that was capable of living, and you hardly even knew it.

Natasha did.

You didn’t even feel drained. In fact, you felt alive, more alive than you had throughout your days in the Underworld. You felt like you could make a thousand more flowers spring and defy the laws of nature, the laws of life and death. But even you knew that the high you were on would fade, and that you would need rest soon.

“You’re shaking,” the goddess pointed out, and you couldn’t even manage to bring yourself out of your own head to confirm her observation. “You need to sit.”

“No, no, I don’t need to sit.” Your head was spinning. “I need to do more while I can.” While you were ecstatic by the growth, you knew what it was possible that it was a fluke. And if it was, you planned on riding it out for as long as possible.

Natasha wasn’t buying what you were poorly attempting to sell. “You’re about to pass out like some silly human because of your ignorance and impatience.” Your haze broke through momentarily while you glared at her. “If you think these gardens are a one day job, you’re wrong.”

“Just give me a minute to celebrate, Natasha.”

“Well, you’re nearly falling over, Persephone.”

“How in the world do you expect me to stop here?” You asked, eyes full of wonder and joy, and starting to gleam a little with pride. You had done something that seemed impossible, all by yourself. You, who were worlds weaker than your mother. You, the goddess who only really had a name because of her mother and her wrath and generosity. You had done something extraordinary and met someone even more so, and you couldn't find it in yourself to stop at one.

You would make the entire Underworld glow with green, if you could help it.

§§

That one flower had started to slowly push open a door, a door that you hoped would never close again. The morning after the first blooming of the first flower, you woke up to whispers of grass being at the river. You could feel excitement, confusion, and sprinkles of fear heavy in the air, and that overpowered you for a moment before you actually thought about the words.

There was grass at the river. The river never really had much grass to begin with.

Day by day, more plants started to come. Some were halfway dead by the time they sprouted, but you always caught them and saved them before they could truly die. You had to check on them and do maintenance every day, but you were sure that once they were all strong enough that you would be able to leave them alone for at least weeks at a time.

You were feeling more energized, and while the growing presence of the feeling you felt while above ground intensified, so did your senses again. You had noticed your sixth sense, more than anything. And it came out whenever Natasha was around.

At first, you thought it was off. And then you put two and two together after days and days of feeling the hair on the back of your neck stand with her nearby, you finally realized. She was constantly watching you.

You had no idea if it was about her thinking that you were untrustworthy. You had no idea if it meant that she thought you were meddlesome, or troublesome enough to get yourself stuck in a place where you didn’t need to be. For a while, you thought it was because she was always on call to cure your hunger, which was dwindling by the day as you got more and more used to being in the dismal place.

It felt like you and Natasha were walking on eggshells, and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out the reason why. You looked at her when she wasn’t looking, and sometimes you couldn’t even stop your staring once she met your eyes. She did the same to you, and every time you saw her just looking on at you wordlessly, your heart fluttered. You wondered if she could feel you dying and coming back to life over and over again, and if she knew that with every passing second that it was becoming more and more for her.

You were realizing quickly that you were starting to feel something. You had seen it happen many times in your lifetime, mostly amongst humans. They would meet someone who made an awfully monotonous life worth living, and then they would obsess with them and eventually do some strange ritual in which they tied their hands together with string that was a dark red or a dark purple, or some other passionate color. You watched from the clouds and from in tree tops, watched them kiss and hug and sometimes even laugh and cry, and you didn’t understand it then.

You were afraid that you were starting to understand it.

It was already bad that you were stuck. You felt terrible about it. When you weren’t thinking about the redhead that wasn’t the terrible goddess you thought she was, you were thinking about how your mother must have been scouring the earth and seas and even heavens for you. You thought about how the harvest was without a doubt dying without her full focus, and that made you think of the humans below that depended on her.

People were dying because you decided to stick your nose where it didn’t belong. Your mother was raging because she thought she lost her only child, her precious daughter. And there you were, making heart eyes towards the goddess who your mother hated more than hate itself. You felt like a traitor. And you felt like even more of a traitor when you realized that you loved it when she looked at you, and that you loved to look back at her. You adored it.

You would have to leave before your feelings for Natasha grew even more confusing.

And that was why you found yourself bending over in the garden that hadn't grown yet, fingers in the dirt as you willed the dirt to yield and make way for new life. You could feel her watching while you fixed flowers, and occasionally put enough power to use to make things grow. She was watching the way you moved your hands, the tension in your back, the way you cracked your knuckles in between doing “interesting” things. She watched it all. And for some reason, instead of unnerving you, it made you feel…delicate. Maybe even pretty, if you dared to go that far. It made you feel special, to be watched by someone that you found so naturally gorgeous, demanding.

As much as you were realizing your feelings for Natasha, you were also realizing the way that she acted around you. If you hadn’t known that she is basically all powerful, you would have thought that she was somewhat scared of you. But it didn't take you long to understand that she wasn’t even close to afraid of you, but she was afraid of hurting you.

It started to dawn on you when you told her one day that you felt like your stomach was going to eat itself alive, and she proceeded to have her hands hover over your body instead of the featherlight touches that were usually accompanied with the process. It worked just the same, but even you and your optimism couldn't ignore the way she immediately took steps away from you, like she thought it was against the laws of gods and man to be any closer than three feet to you.

“You’re not the bad person that you think you are,” you muttered under your breath, half towards yourself and half directed towards Natasha.

“What?”

You blinked, watching a flower grow underneath your pointer finger. You cleared your throat. “I said, you’re not a bad person, at all.”

“I never said that I was.”

“You think you’re a burden to everything living, which isn’t true.” You said, and you heard her scoff from behind you. “I think that… we as gods, we think that we are what drives the world individually. We forget that we aren’t the only gods living and creating and destroying. We forget that we’re actually all a part of this one big cycle, and that we get in where we fit in.”

“So?”

“You think that death is the bane of existence. And in a way, it is, but no one blames you. You’re doing your job, and it’s part of the cycle. Death needs to happen, just like life does.” You took your focus off of your budding plant to look at the red headed goddess who was already staring at the back of your head, listening to your every word. “I see the way you look at me and my plants sometimes. You’re so worried that you’re gonna kill me, or them, but I’m no different from you. I am a goddess, and I have a job to do, and we just happen to be on the exact opposite sides of the spectrum. But that doesn’t mean that I’m at risk of dying by just looking at you.”

She crossed her lean arms and put her weight on her back leg, cocking a brow up at you before nodding in silence and taking in your tiny rant. “You speak a lot of death and destruction without seeing much of it.”

“I’ve seen enough,” you responded, standing to your feet and walking over to a section of the dirt that you hadn't started messing around with, and without a second thought, you called her over to you.. “Come here.”

“I should warn you to watch your tone.” And if you hadn’t seen the way that her mouth twitched upwards, maybe you would have thought she was being serious.

“Yeah, you should,” you said, and your unspoken “you won’t” went left unsaid, but hung in the air as if it had been spoken. You fell silent after that, focused on the blooming of your brand new anemone, a flower that made your heart warm. It was one of your mother’s many favorites.

There was no noise between you for the longest time, silence stretching on for miles and miles until you forgot that she was even there. Until you didn’t.

“What… what kind of flower is that?”

Your heart jumped at her voice, and at her showing interest in your work, not just watching you do it. The Goddess of Death was really interested in what flower you were planting? “This is an anemone,” you answered softly, touching the brilliantly red petals of the budding flower. “Would you like to feel?”

You would have thought that you asked her to condemn a mortal to death fifteen years early by the sound she made. “No. Of course not.”

You would have tore your eyes off of the flower if you could have but you were never able to stop looking at growing life, even above ground. “Why not?”

She stared at you for a moment, her eyes blank as she blatantly judged your intelligence. “Because I'll kill it, Persephone.”

“Y/N,” you corrected, but there was hardly any true annoyance to it. “And no you won’t.”

“If I touch your flower, it’ll die.” Before you could say anything again, she spoke again. “I don’t touch living things without the intention of killing them.”

“If you do manage to kill my anemone,” you said, pulling back from it when it blossomed to its full capacity, and finally looking at Natasha, who looked more upset than you had seen her during your entire stay. “I’ll be right here to bring it back to life. It’s no problem.”

She stared at you for a moment with such a blank expression that you should have been frightened, and you probably would have been if you felt like you hadn’t been around her for years. Natasha, even though she didn’t want to believe it herself, was virtually harmless. She wasn’t the cruel and unforgiving goddess that everyone thought she was, not in the slightest. Despite not wanting you there at all in the beginning, she was extremely accommodating, and she made sure that nothing bad happened to you. She was kind, and she cared about life. She ruled over the dead but cared about your living things enough to close herself off from even touching one of them. She wasn’t who everyone thought she was, and she was nothing like the goddess that your mother told you she was.

You could see the hesitation in her eyes, but just as you could see that, you could see the way that she truly wanted to touch it.it dawned on you that she had probably never felt a soft petal on her hand before, or mindlessly rolled in a field, or picked a dandelion and blew the seeds off of it. You frowned, and then you stood to your feet and held out your hand. “Take my hand.”

“Why?” But slowly, she did it anyway, without your answer. You kneeled to the ground, and for a moment, she stood still until you gave her a look, and then she was crouching down with you.

“We’re going to touch it with the same hand,” you said, and she shook her head. “Whatever life you think you’ll take from it, I’ll restore it. It won’t even have the time to wilt.”

“I can’t,” she said, and you turned your head to give her a smile.

“Yes, you can.” When she shook her head curtly for the second time, you sighed. “Aren’t you curious?”

“I don’t get curious. Curiosity is for humans and young gods.”

“Liar,” you muttered, and you felt her fingers twitch in your hold when you reached towards the anemone, and then you gave her an encouraging look. “You won’t hurt it,” you whispered, afraid to break the delicacy and vulnerability of the moment. You reached out to touch the unknowing plant, and you could feel her hand trembling as you got closer to it.

The second her finger hit the plant, you could feel the energy of it start to drain. Before Natasha even noticed herself, you touched one of the petals with your pointer finger and revived it slowly, hoping that she wouldn’t feel the push to her pull, either. When you felt it was stable, you spared a look her way.

She looked straight out of a dream. Her lips were parted in surprise, hands still shaking. Her eyes were wide, like she couldn’t believe that she wasn’t hallucinating. The dark aura around her that you had gotten too used to was fading in just the slightest, becoming blanketed with the light that surrounded you in a single thin layer. Her skin seemed to glow.

You took a few more minutes to look at her, just to watch her be in awe and have that look of pure relief on her face. It took everything in you to work up a word, knowing that it would break the spell that she was under. “See?” Natasha blinked, but nothing else. “It’s not dead.”

Slowly, she pulled her hand away from the plant and turned to look your way, the same look of adoration on her face. You nearly froze up when you realized that you were receiving the look, not your plant. “You’re amazing.”

Your heart sped up and then skipped a beat. “Oh, no,” you dismissed, waving and hand, more interested in how it must have felt for her to touch life for the first time in centuries.. “How did you like it? It was probably strange for you, wasn’t it?” You looked back towards her from where your eyes were fixed on the flowers, and your heart skipped a beat, seeming to remind you that you were still alive. She was much closer than you realized, and her hand was much warmer than you could have imagined. You could have sworn that it was tingling. “Feeling something so- alive?”

“You have no idea.” Her free hand landed on your cheek and ruined you towards her in just the slightest so that the two of you were looking at each other head on, like two deer both enchanted by flames in the distance. “Can I kiss you?”

Your head was going a thousand miles a minute. Did she really just ask you that? Did she actually mean it? Did it even really mean anything to her? What if your mother found out? It would be the ultimate betrayal, and you would neve be able to look her in the eyes again. Worst of all, what if whatever was about to happen was about to awaken something inside of you that you would never be able to ignore again. “Please.”

The second her lips touched yours, you couldn’t hear a thing. The feeling of death that you were growing used to suddenly faded away, and the tingling feeling of life sprouting from the tips of your fingers turned numb. Your hands worked on their own as they went up to Natasha’s face, one hovering over her cheek and the other resting in her red hair. It was soft and sweet, but there was something deeper, something lying underneath the strangely innocent feeling of her smooth lips moving gently against yours.

In all your years, you had never kissed a person before, god or man. Many had tried, and they had all failed. But Natasha wasn’t just anybody. You knew from the second you first met her that she was different, but not different enough for you to do one of the one things that you hadn't ever done before. But you were doing just that, one of her hands pulling you closer like she was afraid of you slipping through her fingers and into the earth, where you belonged. But the more and more you two kept coming apart to breathe in little, shared breaths and then coming back in just to stay close, the more and more you felt like you truly belonged somewhere else.

§§

Demeter was growing more and more restless with every second that ticked by without Hecate coming forth with the truth. She was on top of Olympus, waiting for an answer and glaring at Steven, who stared back at her nonchalantly. “She’ll be here, give her time.”

“All I have done is spared time,” she hissed out, the flowers that covered her body threatening to wilt.

“What if my daughter has no time to spare? I swear, Zeus, if I find her dead, every human being will perish from famine.” There was a rumbling sound, the same sound that was made every time a god arrived on the mountain. She whipped her head around and saw a timid Hecate approaching, hands swirling with her red magic as she looked the older gods in the eye.

“You called for me, Steven?”

“Under request of the Harvest Goddess,” he said, nodding towards the still-fuming Demeter. “I’m sure you’ve heard of what happened.”

Wanda looked towards Demeter with a sympathetic look, though she kept herself at a distance. “I’ve heard.” Who hadn’t heard? “I’m sorry to hear about your daughter.”

“I know that you are able to use your magic to track her,” Demeter said through grittred teeth, ignoring Wanda’s offering of pity. “What do you need to find her?”

“I need one of her possessions.”

Demeter swallowed as she looked at Wanda, a hesitant expression on her face as her hand automatically moved to the necklace she had found on the ground, her daughter’s necklace. She sneered before taking it off and handing it to Wanda roughly, her eyes lingering on it as Wanda clenched it in her hand.

“Hurry up.” Wanda nodded and her magic swirled again, suspending the necklace in mid air for a few seconds as silence fueled the tension, and then, the necklace clattered to the ground after Wanda gasped.

“Oh, dear,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. Her eyes flickered from Steve’s and then down to the ground, wild and thinking at a hundred miles a minute. “Oh, no.”

“What happened?” Steven said, and he barely got his mouth opened before Demeter was close to raging.

“Speak up, or I’ll toss you off the mountain.” She grabbed the younger goddess’s arm in a tight grip and watched her face for any signs of mourning. When Wanda gave her a pitied look, she gasped and gripped her harder, despite Steve’s warnings. “No, is she dead?” When all Wanda could do was stutter out a few babbling words, Demeter shook her shoulders. “Is she dead?”

A light bulb went off in Wanda’s head, and as quick as a flash, her eyes grew panicked as she looked towards Steve, who caught exactly what she meant. He let out a soft curse and shook his head, realizing that things were a lot worse than he imagined. “She… she’s not on the earth,” Wanda breathed out, and then, like she remembered something that had been told to her centuries ago, her eyes widened as she looked to Steve for help, who suddenly knew all too well. “She’s in the Underworld.”

Demeter’s anguished cry reached to the ground far below, and it shook everything that lived.

****

hi guys!! hope y’all are doing well- if y’all have been unfortunate enough to see my blog within the last few days you probably know that i am not 💀 it’s a miracle i got this out “on time”. thank you guys for being patient with me as i work to get myself back on track and all of that jazz, it means a lot. the SECOND school is out of the picture- it’s game time lmao

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visd3stele · 3 years ago

Text

The beauty and his beast - wolfstar fic

summary: two different nights, years passed, some things changes, but some never do

TW: nightmares, PTSD, trauma, non depictive child abuse, themes of suicidal thoughts

A/N: I loved writing this, but I am so nervous about it. What do you think?

requests ; masterlist

fanart credit picture down below: @lunopal

Ragged voices licked his ears. Three different ones overlapped in a cacophony of hissed whispers and dooming laughs. From where he stood in the middle of his cell, Sirius could see a silhouette standing in the open door. Open, because there was no way he could escape. Three Dementors floated in a circle around him, so fast he could barely tell them apart. Black smoke, a burning smell and shadows whirled under low hoods, bringing him to his knees.

The man in the door curled his lips in a terrible grin. The Dementors were his and with each mind they broke, with each soul they ate, the wizard gained a sense of pride and morbid joy.

Sirius knew it. He knew the man, back in his school years - how far they seemed now! But Sirius also knew he was delusional. The Dementors bow to no one. They have no law, no caretaker, no master. Only their purpose.

Continuing to swirl around his frail body, sinked in to a third of what it used to be, bony edges poking out through dirty thin layers of clothing, the Dementors closed in on Sirius. Flashes of memories flew before the Animagus' eyes. James' empty ones, still open in a silent plea for his sacrifice to be enough to save his family, his brown hair dipped in his own blood, body angled in an unnatural position with his hand stretched forward above his head as if reaching for his best friend. Lily's tears, yet to dry and evaporates, stained her too pale face, the red of her hair sprayed around too lively; no blood pools formed around her lifeless body, laid on its belly as it fell onward, as if leaping away from her son, so the baby won't have to see it. And finally Harry, his godson, crying in his crib, a brown-red crust shaped like a lightning forming on his forehead; his green, small eyes, swollen, puffy and trimmed with red followed his godfather as the man turned his back on him and ran outside.

Sirius cursed loudly, beginning to shackle the chains trapping him in place in case he tried to escape the daily visit of the Prison Warrant and his guards. But the now twenty five years old has stopped trying to run a long time ago. What good would it be? There was nothing - no one - waiting from him out in the world. No, Sirius trashing around the cold, dirty dais, snapping the metal biting in his wrists, bruising his effervescent skin and almost cracking his bones as well was his attempt to run from his own mind. If he could just wipe the haunting memories away with a shook of his head, a twist of his back or punching and kicking the thick walls.

Fragments of thoughts he wasn't sure belonged to him invaded his mind. "Your fault. Traitor. Another Black." And, worst of all, one pained howl, a desperate scream in the night. Sirius wasn't sure if he heard it, or the dark creatures around toyed with him, but Remus' wild, feral yell of pure hurt reverberated inside the bars of his mind. The young wizard shut his eyes closed tightly, hoping to brush away the sound, the voices. Failing to do so, he released a scream of his own, only a hint of Padfoot, the big, black dog, his alter ego, printed in it.

The thirty four years old man yanked up. The bed sheets were soaked in his sweat, the blanket throwed on the floor. Sirius passed a shacking hand over his face, feeling the hot air leaving his mouth in short breaths, than big inhales with no exhale, the burning of tears on his warm red cheeks and the running nose. His lips felt sewed together all of a sudden, as chill after chill entered his body, cooling off his face too quickly.

It was just a nightmare, he knew. He escaped Azkaban, has been a free man from over a week already. But Sirius Black couldn't let the twelve years in prison go. The things he saw there, what the Dementors showed him day after day, carved their way in his brain, refusing to leave. Yes, he may have been wrong: his family and living friend welcomed him back. Harry was warming up to hid godfather, Nymphadora Tonks was eager to know her uncle, Andromeda even reached out, sending letter after letter and Remus - well, Remus hugged him tight and apologized for believing that filthy rat's lies. The werewolf spent his days, from first ray of sunshine until the last drop of sunlight. But the nights he went home. The nights when ghosts came to play, wounds teared open and pain leaked like blood from Sirius' heart, Remus was gone.

He tried to remember a time they didn't share a bed - before Azkaban, of course. Not in a sexual way, though it came to that in the late years of Hogwarts too. But simply for the comfort they each found in the other. It started in the second year, Sirius recalled.

Four twelve years old boys in a room seemed like a receipt for disaster. In a way, it was. After finding out their friend's secret, James, Sirius and Peter decided to sneak in the herbology cabinet, get Mandrake leaves and become Animagus. Seeing as they got away with it, the four created their enchanted map and become the Marauders, messers Prongs, Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail, waltzing their merry way through Hogwarts.

Not everything was merry and joyful, though. And despite their reputation, the wizards could be grave and serious when need be. Like one night, when Sirius woke them all up with his cries. The grey eyed boy stood on top of his bed covers, knees drawn to his chest, hands tangled in his shoulder length hair. He leaned back and forth, trembling. Front teeth bit in his lower lip to prevent him from making more noises as silent tears rolled down his face.

The other three boys thought Sirius saw a mean spirit, the haunted glassy look in his eyes only proving their theory further. But no danger threatened in the shadows of their room. No monster lurked in the darkness.

James was the first to get up and surf his way to the pure blood. Remus followed closely behind while Peter watched everything from the safety of his bed. Sirius' episode truly spooked him.

"Padfoot, mate, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. 'm sorry. Go back to sleep."

James and Remus changed worried looks at the sourness of Sirius' voice. Their friend would usually be the epitome of confidence, yet now he seemed to desperately try to shrink and disappear. But it was late and they were tired, so the boys decided with a swift nod that they'd pick up the subject in the morning and climbed back under their covers.

Remus jolted awake. Two out of his three best friends were sound asleep. Sirius still stared at the wall in front of him, breathing jerky. Due to his fine, superior hearing, the werewolf discerned the Black boy's muffled whimpers, sounds that kept him from sleeping.

"Sirius, why are you so afraid?" Remus whispered.

" 'm not afraid, Moony. Sleep."

"Can't. Werewolf remember? I hear you trying to not cry. You can cry, you know."

"I know." Sirius said in a tone that clearly showed he doesn't. With a sigh, Remus threw away his blanket, slipped his feet in his shoes and trailed his legs over the dorm's brick daises until he reached his friend's bed. The brown haired boy signed Sirius to scoop over, which he did, to both wizards surprise.

Later, when talking about that night, Padfoot admitted he was too tired, too shocked and too lost in his mind to think and only acted on auto pilot.

Remus brought the blankets to cover them both, still seated as they were. "Do you need a hug?" Sirius hesitated before answering, but eventually he nodded twice, a quick movement as if the boy was ashamed to admit it and wanted to pass unnoticed.

But Remus smiled softly and wrapped his hands around him. Sirius clinged onto his friend. The warmth of the gesture, the cozy closeness of a settled, stable body, a person that cared deeply about him and only him as a being, set the restrained tears free. Remus held Sirius until his body stilled and he could feel no more tears soaking his pajamas.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sirius swallowed, but the words demanded to be spoken. "Yes."

"Alright. I'm gonna ask you questions and you can answer with yes or no. It's your choice if you want to elaborate. Sounds good?"

"Yes." Sirius said and for a moment his usual, ironic self showed up.

"Was it a nightmare?"

"Yes."

"About your family?"

With a shudder, the grey eyed boy forced out another "yes."

"Your brother?"

"No."

"Your parents, then. Did they - did they do something to you?"

"Yes." Remus' arms tighten around him and he clunged harder to his friend as well. In the safety of the Gryffindor dorm, shared with his most trusted peers, comforted by the scarred boy he became an Animagus for, Sirius stumbled over his thoughts. The dream weighted heavy on his mind, but he didn't know how to let free of those horrible images that haunted him. Not images, memories. Sirius feared that if he said anything they'll become real. Not that they weren't, but they happened in the past. Talking about them, invoking them, would feel like living through them again.

And yet, part of him wanted to talk. He needed someone to know. Sirius couldn't be sure why. Maybe to hear that it was nothing, that it was ok and he shouldn't be such a weak ship. Or maybe to hear it was normal and he wasn't alone. That is how parents love and his didn't hate him after all. Or just to show someone how broken he were, hoping to be picked un and patched.

So, speaking slowly, but evenly, Sirius retailed his nightmare to Remus. In his sleep, the twelve years old boy was hanging some muggle posters in his room: bands, promo for concerts, normal things a boy his age would own. He smiled broadly, music turned on quite loud, muggle music, when his parents bursts in. Walburga and Orion both yell, but Sirius can’t understand what they’re saying. It’s pretty clear they are very upset with him, though. And the reason couldn’t be more obvious.

“Sirius Orion Black!” his mother shrieked. “Ungrateful, worthless child! You are a stain on the family’s name.”

“You should be ashamed of you. As much as I am for being your father. Well, say something. Look how upset you made your mother!”

“Sorry,” he’d try to say, but his voice would break, too small to be heard by the angry adults. Which only worsened their state. Sirius watched frozen in terror as Walburga took her wand. Only his head seemed to be able to move, and he was shacking it vigorously, wiping his cheeks with it. The young wizard tasted tears on his tongue as he repeated the same words over and over again “no, please, ‘m sorry!” It did nothing to help.

Remus stayed in his bed that night.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The moon shone mockingly on the window. Last night has been a full moon and Prongs, Padfoot and Wormtail failed to properly contain Moony. It happened quite a lot in their first days as Animagus. As normal, they got better over the years, the four boys falling in rhythm like an oiled machine. By the time they reached excellency, though, mistakes happened. James, Peter and Sirius thought less of it, but Remus took it badly.

As he laid in the dark, blanket drawn to cover his head as he hugged his knees on the side, the young werewolf tried to remember what happened last night. What if he killed someone? What if he will next time the boys won’t be able to restrain him? Is it worth living like this, a danger to himself and the ones around? What if he hurts his friends?

“I can hear your mind working from over here y’know?”

Remus straighten up in shock. “Padfoot?”

“Well, it’s not the Fat Lady. What’s on your mind?”

Remus shrugged, but Sirius wouldn’t stop pestering him until he poured his deepest fears and doubts.

“You won’t”

“How do you know this?”

“You won’t, Moony,” Sirius said more firmly this time.

“Alright.” Remus clearly didn’t believe him and his worries still troubled him as he turned to lay back down. He heard footsteps, then felt the mattress shifting as another body climbed over his bed covers. “I know because I am Sirius Black and you are my friend.” Less than an hour later, both boys were sound asleep.

Sirius slept in his bed that night.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

It became a tradition. At first, they'd wait until one of them woke frozen in pain and panic, then they'd stay together and talk silently until they could sleep again. Later, Sirius and Remus would wait until James and Peter were out to decide who's bed to sleep in, knowing one of them - or both - ought to need the comfort.

The man kept trembling. His sobs caught in hiccups, leaving him out of breath. He did it. He left Harry for revenge. He practically made the choice for James and Lily, selecting Peter as secret keeper. His brother died and instead of mourning him, Sirius rejoiced bitterly in his cell - until he found out how he betrayed the Dark Lord.

He was just another Black. An evil presence in the world, despite his efforts. Gryffindor or Slytherin, it mattered not when his genes crafted him. Sirius tried so hard to be good, brave, loyal and the only thing he managed was to disappoint everyone. He was a nuisance and a burden and the a stain on the world. It'd be better if his sorry, useless existence would be wiped off the surface of the Earth.

Such thoughts clouded Sirius' mind when a light knock pulled him out of his head. "May I come in, Padfoot?"

The man almost broke at the nickname. Only one single person now would know to call him that. The weight of the realization hit him and another wave of tears carried the air from his lungs.

Receiving no answer, Remus kicked the door open, worry written all over him. The werewolf was panting and sweating from running, eyes wide close to terror. "Padfoot!" Seeing his oldest friend's state, he rushed to his side and hesitated only a moment before drawing him in for a hug.

"Nightmare?"

"Yes."

"Azkaban?"

"Yes."

"Dementors?"

"Yes. They-" Sirius gulped, shame tightening up in his throat. He was a thirty four man, for Godric's sake! And yet he cries like a baby. But the path he and Remus trailed off to, simple questions, any type of answer, so familiar and soothing he couldn't stop. "They tortured me. Showing me their - James and Lily's - death over and over. I left Harry, Moony. I stepped inside the house, saw that beautiful, brave child, suffering and I took off after bloody Pettigrew!" Before Remus could say a thing, Sirius continued, teeth so barred that words barely spitted out. "I heard you screaming too. I don't think that was real, but it sounded so broken, Moony. Twelve years, over twenty four full moons alone. 'm so sorry. It's all my fault."

Remus inhaled sharply, pulling Sirius even closer to him. He rubbed circles on his back, leaning to whisper in his ear "It was not, Padfoot. I should have trusted you more, star. If anything, it's my fault for spending so much time alone. So much, in fact, that it seems I neglected you, our agreement."

“It was my fault.” Sirius insisted.

“No,” and not letting him time to argue, Remus added “I know so, Sirius, because I am Remus Lupin and you are my... friend.”

Sirius pulled away only to find a reluctant smile playing on Remus' face. His body reacted before his mind could process its moving. He moved on the right side of the bed, still avoiding the other wizard's eyes. "Why are you here, Remus?"

"I couldn't sleep either. Thought to check on you as well. And good thing I did. You looked..." The professor didn't know how to finish that sentenced. Hollow. Empty. Dead. Scaringly close to death, in fact.

"Merlin! Thank you, Moony. You don't look bad yourself."

Remus chuckled. "Are you feeling any better?"

"No. You?"

"No."

Both men laughed. A bitter sweet sound passing through silence, taking with it any sign of discomfort that existed.

"I'm glad you came."

"Me too."

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peaceisadirtyword · 4 years ago

Text

Fate (Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Hello!🥰 As I said here’s the first fic I wrote about season 6B. I already loved Ivar but his evolution during this last season made me love him even more (I didn’t know that was possible). And I was dying to write for him (I even have a series planned, but I’ll wait until I’ve finished Move On and maybe Hate to post it.

This one will only have 2 parts, next one will be posted maybe tomorrow! I really hope you like it, and that I have captured this “new Ivar” well enough! And, of course, this contains spoilers for season 6B!! so if you haven’t seen it yet don’t read it!😅

I was going to post this one earlier this week but I had a pretty big exam today and I was exhausted. So next part will be posted maybe tomorrow or on Sunday!☺️

Also, thanks to @ivarhoegh for reading this before and telling me her opinion🥺🙏🏻 I hope y’all like it and enjoy the reading, thank you!

Warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol and violence, Ivar might be a bit out of character, my bad writing (?) not much!

Words: 3459

gif belongs to @therealcalicali

You knew he'd be back. The Ragnarssons would always go back to Kattegat. For some reason, you had the feeling he would be back soon and not with the Rus.

A single boat, a Rus boat, which meant he didn't betray them or escaped from Kiev. Hvitserk came with him, of course, that made you smile softly. Hvitserk would always go back to him because he loved his little brother but didn't even know it.

People booed, spat and yelled insults at them as you watched, silently, standing at the end of the crowd and rolling your eyes at the insults. You knew they'd be laughing and toasting while yelling their names very soon, as they always did with their father.

Ivar had changed. He looked much more calmed, not so tense nor ready to attack to the first person that angered him. He had a huge scar on his angelic face, you frowned at it, angry at whoever dared to hurt his beautiful features. He had changed a lot. Of course, you had seen him at the battle against the Rus, but then you ran away from him, not even thinking about trying to fight him.

You watched as Erik lead them to the Great Hall, where, you supposed, they'd meet King Harald.

"Fucking traitors" someone spat next to you, making you raise an eyebrow and turn around to look at him "We should kill them and leave their bodies to the wolves"

"Now that's no way to speak about the sons of Ragnar, is it, Einar?" You bit your lip to hold back a smile.

"Their father would do it if he was here" he scoffed "They betrayed us all"

Sighing, you started walking back to your little house, not far from the Great Hall. Seeing him again had been maybe too much, and you needed some time to yourself.

Einar stopped you, though, taking your arm.

"Will I see you tonight?" He licked his lips. You frowned softly, not really in the mood to see him. Some days ago, you'd said yes, opened the door to your house for him and then have sex until you passed out, but now Ivar was back and that changed everything.

"I'm tired" you smiled apologetically at him "Maybe some other day"

Einar sighed, but nodded. He was an asshole sometimes, but at least he respected you.

Inside of your house, you started the fire on the fireplace to warm the house a bit as you took off your clothes. You had no intention of going back outside, so you'd eat something and get into bed. With some luck, you'd get some sleep.

A part of you wanted to think you'd never see Ivar again. Even if it hurt, after seeing him every single day since you were both kids, it would have helped to forget him, but then again... Would you ever forget him? Not even so much time apart, since he left Kattegat when Björn took it until he came back to Norway with the rus army, had made you forget him. In fact, you'd swear your feelings were stronger than ever.

But it was exhausting. To search for those ocean eyes, wishing and praying to have them look back at you even if it was for a second, to go to sleep thinking about him and wake up thinking his face was the first thing you wanted to see. You had always been there, looking at him when everyone else looked at his brothers, fighting alongside him to avenge his father, conquering York with him, and going back home with your king, he always was your king.

Your parents were always worried about your unhealthy obsession with the youngest Ragnarsson. At first, they thought it was only a stupid crush, but as you kept growing and your feelings didn't disappear, they realized it was serious.

Then you heard that Ivar had sex with Margrethe, that pretty slave that had his older brothers pursuing her, and you were so devastated that you searched for comfort anywhere. And you found it on his brother Hvitserk's arms.

You never regretted losing your virginity to Hvitserk, he was a good lover even if he didn't really remember your name the day after.

Your parents left Kattegat when Lagertha was queen, disagreeing with the way she killed the former queen, Aslaug, Ivar's mother. You know how much he loved his mother, how close they were, and your heart ached for him as he lost both his parents at the same time.

So you joined the army and sailed to England to avenge Ragnar. Always fighting by his side, always watching his surroundings, killing every single person that dared to get close to him. And learning that, like his brother, he'd never remember your name, because he was a prince, a son of Ragnar Lothbrok, fated to be a legend like half of his family was, and you were just a girl, the daughter of a seamstress and a warrior that learnt to fight for her prince knowing she would never become his princess.

Then he became king, and took a queen. You still remembered how much it hurt to see him looking at her like that, how broken your heart was when he announced he'd marry her, and that they would have a child. You tried to hate Freydis, but you couldn't hate someone who made him that happy. You didn't want him suffering the same way you did for him. Ivar was special, and he deserved to be loved and happy.

You could have left, escape Kattegat and never look back, but you couldn't. And it broke your heart when he did leave.

Now he was back, and you were still the young girl in love that would fight an entire army of Christians for him.

_______________________________________

King Harald was throwing a feast. It surprised you, as you didn't think the king would be so keen to throw a feast for Ivar the Boneless, former king and the source of most of his headaches.

You wore a dark red dress your mother had sent to you, with your hair barely braided and some kohl on your eyes. You never dressed for men, you couldn't care less about men's opinion about you, but you found yourself wondering if Ivar would notice you. It was like going back to being sixteen, trying to catch his attention without him knowing you were trying.

It had been a long time since you stepped into the Great Hall for the first time. You didn't really attend the feasts when Björn was king, you were somewhat angry at him, at his family and his men. They were the reason Ivar left.

And you probably wouldn't have attended this feast if you hadn't known for sure he would be there.

He sat on king Harald's table, with Hvitserk sitting at the opposite side of him. The king, his wife and Erik sat facing the crowd. It was a weird feast, people didn't sit down and many chose to eat while standing. It was also awfully quiet, and everyone eyed the main table suspiciously, as if they were waiting for Ivar to stab king Harald at any second. It wouldn't have surprised you if he did.

Einar drank horn after horn of ale next to you. Sometimes, he'd stop laughing with his friends and mutter some insults to the Ragnarssons, but not too loud. Not even Einar was foolish enough to insult the Ragnarssons in public, especially Ivar.

You hadn't said a word. It felt familiar to stay silent, drinking and eating quietly and sneaking glances to Ivar sometimes as you had done your whole life. He had changed a lot, you could see he wasn't as defensive as before, his eyes didn't scan the room expecting to find someone laughing at him. But even if he was surrounded by people that probably would love to cut his throat and throw his body into the sea, he looked relaxed, making small talk with the king sometimes, as if he had everything under control.

Suddenly, everything went quiet. Ivar looked at the crowd for the first time, his hands rubbed his lips as everyone stared at him and his brother. He could feel the resentment on their eyes and, for a moment, his eyes fixed on you.

His eyes widened softly when he recognized you, but you looked away before you could see it, directing your glance to King Harald, who stood on his feet looking sternly at his people.

A fake smile curved Harald's lips as he walked closer to the crowd. You barely listened to him, even if you kept your eyes on him, almost afraid of letting them wander around to find Ivar again.

"Ivar regrets the way he ruled here" Harald pointed at him. Ivar didn't even try to look ashamed, looking directly to his brother. Neither him nor Hvitserk seemed to understand Harald's game "He was young, the responsibilities were too great, and he forgot the lessons of his father"

You raised an eyebrow. Ivar had lost his mind for a woman while ruling, something his father had done too. Men could pretend to be all powerful and great, but women had the true power, the power to make them do unimaginable things out of love and obsession.

"And his brother, Hvitserk, he never meant to kill Lagertha" Harald continued "How could he ever mean to kill such a goddess?"

Hvitserk never meant to kill her, that was true. You had been the witness to his illness, you had lost the count of how many times you found him, all drunk, drugged and wandering around Kattegat. You gave him food, but he never accepted your help more than that. He wasn't himself when he killed Lagertha, but he never regretted it.

"They are who they are" Harald kept talking "But they are also sons of Ragnar"

Ivar looked at the people again, this time with a defying glare on his face, nearly asking who would dare to try and kick him out of his own home.

"I don't trust them" Einar clenched his jaw, and you felt his grip on your waist. He was half drunk and that gave him a false feeling of courage. Ivar heard him, and he narrowed his eyes.

Then someone stood up. A man, whom you had seen drinking maybe too much ale, was standing bravely, looking at Ivar.

"So tell us, Ivar, is it true you are a God, like you told us?"

You tensed up, and gasped when Ivar stood up. Everyone was silent, looking at him. He walked until he reached the middle of the room, and he threw his crutch to the floor.

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see him collapse on the floor. You heard him fall. And suddenly everyone was laughing. You opened your eyes to see him laughing too.

Just like that, he won their trust again. The music started playing, and the mood in the room shifted quickly. Ivar was still on the floor, looking proud of what he just did, and letting his eyes wander around the room. He found you again, and this time you held his gaze.

__________________________________________

It was hot inside. Einar had reached the point of groping you, trying to make you sit on his lap to lift your dress. You managed to wiggle out of his grip and made your way out of the Great Hall. It was overwhelming, especially after all the tension of knowing Ivar was back. You barely slept the night before, and you weren't feeling like celebrating, what exactly would you celebrate? That you would be back to being the stupid little girl obsessed with a prince that wouldn't look at her twice.

There was a couple of drunk men yelling and laughing when you walked down the streets of Kattegat while trying to get home. Hail Ivar, they yelled, making you raise an eyebrow. They were Einar's friends, and they had been cursing the name of both brothers a few hours ago. Men.

But as you continued walking, your head throbbing from all the ale you had drank, a voice startled you.

"I know you"

You froze. You knew that voice very well, but had never heard it directed to you.

Ivar was half hidden inside one of the barns. There was a torch next to him, and the dim light made him look even more handsome. You raised an eyebrow, and it took all of your willpower not to start running.

"You know me?" You cleared your throat.

"Yes" he pressed his lips together "You're Y/N, aren't you? You're a shieldmaiden"

He knew your name. The fucking Ivar Ragnarsson knew your name.

"Yes" you walked closer to him, trying not to stare at him too much. His crutch was leant against the wall next to him, and he had a wooden stick on his hands, in which he carved patterns with one of his knives "And you're Ivar"

He smirked at you. It made your knees weak.

"We fought together, didn't we?" His soft voice was like velvet, it was like a gentle caress when you were about to fall asleep "In England, I remember seeing you fight in York"

You nodded. He tilted his head curiously, his ocean eyes looking you up and down. Those eyes you had always dreamt of.

"I saw you on the Great Hall and I was surprised, I barely know anyone here anymore" he frowned, looking around "It felt nice to see a familiar face"

"What are you doing here?" You blurted out. You didn't want to be rude nor make him uncomfortable, and immediately you bit your tongue.

Ivar smirked again.

"You mean here in a barn or in Kattegat?" He chuckled.

"Both" you frowned.

"I was feeling a bit overwhelmed in there" he shrugged "I needed some air and I needed to be alone for a bit... And, to be honest, I don't know why I am in Kattegat, I just needed somewhere to go, but it doesn't feel like home anymore" he looked at you in the eyes. It was so intense that you had to look away after a few seconds.

You nodded softly.

"I'm glad you're back" you muttered. Ivar tilted his head with curiosity.

"Did I kill any member of your family? Should I be careful in case you're planning to stab me?"

It was the first time you smiled in front of him.

"No, if you had killed someone I loved, I would have stabbed you long ago"

He sighed, nodding his head.

"Fair enough"

"You did break my heart, though" you whispered, approaching him to lean your back onto the wooden wall next to him. Ivar narrowed his eyes, confused, but didn't say anything.

"I just remember you were a really good fighter" he shrugged "And that you slept with my brother once"

That surprised you. You looked at him, flustered.

"I..."

"I wasn't... I wasn't spying on you or anything" he chuckled "I just saw you sneaking out of Hvitserk's room, I was sitting on the throne"

"So I made a great first impression, didn't I?"

Ivar smiled. A genuine smile, not a smirk, a real smile.

"It wasn't the first impression, I had seen you training more than once, and I saw you when you came with your mother to see mine, I remember she made her dresses"

Your lips parted in surprise. So Ivar did see you. You always thought he never paid attention to you, that he didn't know of your existence. Knowing you were wrong made you feel a strange warmth on your chest. It was nice.

"You've changed" you pointed out in a soft voice. He had changed a lot, the Ivar you knew was very different to the one standing next to you. But it was a nice change. You liked it.

"Everyone says that" he raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe because it's true"

He shrugged, and his eyes went back to the piece of wood on his hands.

"Why didn't you stay with the Rus? Why risk everything coming here?"

"Did Harald pay you to ask me all of this?" He laughed.

"No" you bit your lip to hold back a smile "I'm just curious"

He looked at you again, with the ghost of a smile on his lips. His eyes shone under the dim light of the torch, and you felt the need to lean in to kiss his pouty lips.

"I learnt a lot in Kiev" he muttered "I understood many things, and I met people that marked me forever" his voice had so much emotion that you wondered if he was talking about a woman "But my destiny isn't there, and I had to move forward"

"So where is it? Your destiny" your eyes lightened up with curiosity.

"I don't have a clue" he raised an eyebrow, smiling at you softly "I figured I'd come back to where I started, trusting the Gods would tell me what should I do"

"Have you heard from them yet?" You giggled.

"No, not yet" he chuckled.

"Give them time" you shrugged "You're a favorite of the Gods, Ivar Ragnarsson, they'll guide you"

Ivar looked surprised, and turned his head to look at you a bit better. He remembered seeing you around Kattegat when he was young. Once, after you had been in the Great Hall to give Aslaug a new dress your mother had finished for her, he had told his brothers he thought you were pretty. They teased him for days. He felt a small tug on his heart remembering the playful banter and the teasing.

He had seen you look at him. At first it annoyed him, thinking you stared at him because of his legs, but then he caught you staring at him more than once the same way the girls stared at his brothers. It helped with his self-esteem, more than he'd ever admit.

"What about you?" He shook his head. Any feelings you might have had for him were in the past, he was sure, he'd seen you with a man in the Great Hall.

"I'm afraid my life isn't as interesting as yours" you giggled "I haven't left Kattegat"

"I know very well that things can happen without leaving Kattegat" he raised an eyebrow.

"I just keep training, and sometimes I go to raids" you shrugged "And I work around here... Not much"

Ivar's eyes flicked back to yours, interested.

"No husband, no children?"

You let out a laugh, shaking your head.

"No one finds me interesting enough to marry me" you sighed "And children? I can barely take care of myself"

"I find you interesting" he muttered, and for a moment you thought you hadn't heard him right "I mean" he cleared his throat, chuckling "I'm glad to see you're well"

"Thank you, I'm glad to see you're..." You frown, looking at the scars on his face, that seem rather new "Alive"

Ivar hummed, nodding when he realized you looked at his scar.

"Thank my dear brother for this" he scoffed. You smiled at him.

"You probably deserved it"

He looked at you, surprised, but nodded softly.

"Yeah, I kind of deserved it"

Ivar the Boneless admitting he had done something wrong? Wow, you didn't know what had happened while he was with the Rus, but that was a huge change.

Ivar turned to look at you when he heard you giggling. He liked you, he felt at ease with you. He felt like he didn't need to impress you, as you knew him too well already, but also didn't seem to be angry or afraid at him like the rest of Kattegat.

His eyes hypnotized you again, they were even more beautiful from up close.

Without realizing it, you leant into him. Ivar's eyes twinkled as he understood your intentions, and you'd swear he leant into you too.

"Y/N!" Einar's scream startled you. Ivar turned his head to glare at the drunk man that stumbled down the street, with eyes half closed and looking around "Where are you?"

You leant back with a sigh. You had forgotten about Einar and how needy he was when drunk. Ivar raised an eyebrow at you, and you took a deep breath, visibly embarrassed.

"He's... Einar" you groaned "I should go and make sure he gets home"

Ivar nodded slowly.

"It was nice talking to you then"

"Same" you gave him your widest smile. Your first conversation with Ivar Ragnarsson had been very different from what you had imagined, but also better.

"Good night, Y/N" he smirked.

"Good night, Ivar"

_________________________________________

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @thevikingsheaux @therealcalicali @chimera4plums @blushingskywalker @awkwardfangirl02 @gruffle1 @justacripple @heartbeats-wildly @letsrunawaytotomorrow @inforapound @sallydelys @hellogabysblog @winchesterwife27 @hecohansen31 @youbloodymadgenius @xinyourdreamsx @funmadnessandbadassvikings @eteramfools @tgrrose @flokidottirsstuff @lovessce @tootie-fruity @didiintheblog @alexhandersenx @belovedcherry @fantasydevil2002 @xceafh @astrape-the-weatherwitch @destynelseclipsa @katarokkar11 @momowhoo

Okay I hope I didn’t forget anyone :( Tumblr doesn't send me notifications and sometimes the asks don’t even appear on my inbox💔 so please if I didn’t add you to the taglist tell me!

#ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #ivar x reader #vikings #vikings imagine

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stellocchia · 3 years ago

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Sooo, remember this: Platonic Soulmates AU? Yeah... I actually wrote something for Bee Duo based on it because I was feeling like it.

It’s pretty short and kinda different from my usual writing style, but it was fun!

Dissonant Melody

Tubbo and Ranboo have the perfect life. They have their big mansion, multiple houses, a son, more riches than anyone else on the server, and, most importantly, they have each other. They’re both seventeen and they already found their soulmate. Not only that, but they are both alive and their bond is as strong as can be with emotions flowing freely through it.

They’re lucky, they know they are.

They’re lucky, luckier than most, so they can never say otherwise.

They’re lucky, but why doesn’t it feel like it?

Why has the mansion stayed empty since it got built? Why are they still living so far apart, pretending that the distance will hide their distress from the other?

Tubbo lost a nuke a while ago. Tubbo lost his best friend not long before that. Tubbo lost so much and yet he hasn’t said a word. He doesn’t need to, of course, because he’s fine. He is perfectly fine and if his laboured breaths and tachycardia when he wakes up in the middle of the night were anything out of the ordinary he’s sure that Ranboo would tell him.

Ranboo hasn’t felt in control in a while. He’s not sure how often he actually sleeps compared to how often the… other him simply takes control. His experiments are supposed to be working. They are supposed to give him answers to give him control. They aren’t. But he can’t bother his family with his burden. He can’t look at his husband and child and admit to being nothing but a monster. He knows they would hate him, and they should hate him, really! He just can’t bring himself to be the one to spill his dirty little secret.

Tubbo and Ranboo are seventeen and they already figured out what soulmates aren’t supposed to be. Soulmates aren’t supposed to be the person you share your burdens with. They aren’t supposed to be the person you’re honest with. They aren’t who you go to, to open up about your past. They aren’t there to give you acceptance, they shouldn’t be. They aren’t there to confide in.

Tubbo and Ranboo also know what soulmates are supposed to be. They are the person who’s going to keep you company when you need some silly escapade to distract you from the real world. They are the person who knows you are lying when you say that you’re fine and will lie right back to you. They are the person you smile at and laugh with. They are the person that will let you be a kid around them and not expect something different, something more. They are the person who can perceive your feelings, but who’ll never call attention to them.

Maybe it isn’t perfect, but is it even meant to be?

Because the truth is that they’re young, both of them, and sometimes all they need is someone who’ll let them be.

So maybe it is perfect in their own imperfect way.

And maybe Tommy was talking out of his ass when he mentioned that they might need a “balance”, a suggestion from his therapist apparently.

Because Tubbo is happy. He may not have been home for a while, too busy with his newest project, but he knows that Michael will be there when he gets back and Ranboo is just one call away, ready to aid him when he feels like building another sandstone dick on the roof of the prison. And the outpost is not yet another way to run away from his problem. It’s not another manifestation of denial, it isn’t. And Tubbo sometimes really wishes that Tommy never learned all that fancy terminology, because now it doesn’t feel like they’re on the same level anymore. And Tubbo is fine with that, even if now he feels stupid when trying to talk to him. He didn’t need a friend to open up to anyway.

And it’s fine that Ranboo seems to get his best friend better than he does nowadays. And it’s fine that Tommy goes to him first when he needs something. It’s fine that they are close to each other and that they seem open with each other. It’s fine because it’s not what Tubbo needs and it’s not what he knows how to give. It’s fine, but sometimes Tubbo wishes that he could say it wasn’t.

Ranboo is happy as well of course. He is living with the men who destroyed the first home he’s ever known, but he moved past that. He doesn’t hold grudges really. It’s not useful, it only leads you to choose sides and he won’t, he can’t. If he does then it’ll be much harder to justify to himself why choosing his friends in the past was never worth it. Why fighting by their side for what was important to them was wrong. Why Tubbo’s resigned face, while Ranboo was letting his home blow up, shouldn’t haunt him.

But he was right, thankfully, so he is happy. And Dream is locked up where he can’t hurt anyone anymore, and there are only two deaths that disprove that. And Ranboo may not be in control of his actions or his mind, but he will be, once he figures out how to deal with his problems. And if he doesn’t well… he is sure that there must be a way to convince Sam to lock him up in Pandora’s Vault. He might not even have to convince him once the Warden finds out what type of monster he truly is. Before that though he’s gonna help Tubbo with his surveillance post.

This new project seems to have given a new rhythm to the both of them, a new purpose.

They aren’t working on it together per se. That would require a level of communication that neither of them is capable of. But they are still cooperating nonetheless.

This is the closest they’ve been in a while and neither of them really knows what to do with it. And that’s not right, they’re soulmates and they’ve been close for a long time now! So why is it that they feel more like strangers?

They see each other sometimes, on their way to and from the outpost and it’s like meeting and estranged family member more than their husband. It’s all polite greetings and embarrassed shuffling of their feet. One of them will ask the other what’s going on in their life, the answer is always kept vague.

Both of them can feel how much the other wants the conversation to end every time, but they still persevere because they shouldn’t want that.

It takes a few weeks for the awkwardness to shift into resentment.

It takes a few weeks before Ranboo comments on how distant and cold Tubbo has been. On how he feels like they aren’t close anymore. It takes mere seconds, after that, for Tubbo to yell about how Ranboo can’t speak when he’s still living with the man who murdered him.

Words they never meant to utter out loud fly freely then.

Suddenly it becomes apparent how little they knew of each other. Did they ever even know the other at all? Were any of the good moments real?

Is Tubbo really the uncaring, distant pushover that brought his country to ruin that Ranboo claims him to be?

Is Ranboo truly the self-absorbed, spineless traitor that Tubbo thinks he is?

They’re both panting by the end. Exhaustedly looking at the ground.

That was what they needed supposedly, that’s what everyone said. A “balance” between sharing their burdens and granting the other the lightheartedness of youth. But it was too little too late I’m afraid.

There was nothing there anymore. That bond that seemed so perfect and strong came undone in less then an hour. Bitterness was left where that tentative sense of belonging used to be.

After all they were strangers now, it was well past the time for sharing.

#dream smp au #platonic soulmates au #tubbo #ranboo #bee duo #my writing/fanfic thingy?#welp #so maybe I like this trope specifically because of how angsty you can make it...#I swear there are some soulmate pairings in my au that aren't utterly depressing!#they're just not the ones I write about

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itsuki-minamy · 3 years ago

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PROFILE: YATA MISAKI

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Real name: Yata Misaki

Terms of address: Yata-san, Misaki, Yatagarasu

[PROFILE]

Birthday: July 20, Cancer

Blood type: B

Age: 20 (At the beginning of the second season)

[APPEARANCE]

Physique: 1.67 cm in height. He gives the impression that he is smaller than his height.

Face, hair: His eyes are good. He wears a hat. The base is the face of a cheerful child, but the expression is rich and changes every time. He can be a vicious person and often laughs carelessly.

Attire: He wears a street style with a skateboard.

Personal effects: Skateboard. A metal bat.

[HABITS, SKILLS]

· Skill on the skateboard and the use of flames.

· Before thinking that the blood would rise in his head, his body would move and sink.

[IMPRESSION, OTHER NOTES]

· "Foolish".

· There are some comic aspects that should be loved, but when viewed by the general public, they are vicious.

· Get angry and laugh a lot. The emotional expression of emotions is clear.

· The sign of "Homura" is on the left clavicle.

[POSITION, OBJECTIVES]

A member of "Homura". Identified as a captain of the first class. Number 3 in combat strength.

A young man who loves "Homura" and loves his friends.

He is one of the main members, except for Suoh, Kusanagi, and Totsuka, who are the first members. Instead of Suoh, the lord who doesn't move much, Kusanagi, who often sticks to the role of staff, and Totsuka who is a non-combatant, in case of a difficult situation, he often takes the initiative and fights violently.

His fighting ability is high and reliable, but the troublesome side is also great, and when he causes trouble, Kusanagi gets angry. However, after Suoh and Totsuka died and Anna became "King", he became a little stronger than before as an executive of "Homura", supporting Kusanagi.

He was a close friend of Fushimi from "Scepter 4", and has a close relationship. When Fushimi was a member of "Homura", he was considered to be a combination of Yata and Fushimi, even in Shizume society.

[PERSONALITY, CONDUCT]

A quick fight. Although it is a direct path, he has a particularly strong feeling for his friends. He thinks about things in emotions and acts by intuition.

He is not good with women. He blushes in front of a woman. He does not harm women, but not as long as they are recognized as an enemy with equal fighting power.

He is excited about Suoh, and is pleased to show the power of Suoh and "Homura". He becomes furious when Suoh and "Homura" are insulted. He shows his emblem of "Homura".

He is a burning guy as a child, and he also has the name "Yatagarasu".

He looks bright and carefree in "Homura", but there are some aspects of the world that are dissatisfied and refracted. That's why he gets along with Fushimi.

[FATE, ENDING]

Overwhelmed by Suoh's death and "Homura's" breakdown, he later rallied and supported Anna in a completely different way than Suoh's, and his sense of companionship was excessive and depended on "Homura". Yata will be able to think from a larger perspective without being paralyzed by the form of a "team" or "partner", even though the passionate aspect of him remains the same.

He was only looking at Fushimi through the "filter of the organization I belong to" or "traitor", but he re-evaluated Fushimi as an individual who got rid of him and confirmed that they were different from each other. A new bond was formed after doing that.

[ABILITIES, TACTICS]

He fights combining skateboarding action and "flame control ability" as a member of the "Homura" clan. He blowing flames from the steering wheel, accelerating, climbing walls and exploding under his feet to carry out an aerial battle. He attacks with weapons like bat metal and fire. His ability is great and powerful.

[POWER]

B (Along with Kusanagi in “Homura”. Fushimi and his combat power antagonize, but Fushimi is slightly advantageous due to the use of two power colors.).

[LIKES]

Friends. He likes to do something with someone (be it good or bad). He hates cowardice, but not necessarily justice.

[DISLIKE]

Be alone in silence. Treachery.

[HOBBIES]

Physical activity (what you can do close to where you are, not go to the gym).

He likes games in general, but in particular he likes those that use physical ability and reflexes (case games, rhythm games, shooting, racing, etc.).

In high school, he often played competitive games with Fushimi. Compared to Yata, who operates only on reflexes, Fushimi, who controls reflexes and strategy, has a higher win rate.

[FASHION]

Mostly casual, street style. The beautiful and rigid clothes are brilliant. He also believes that it does not suit him.

[BODY]

Small and light. A healthy complexion. The physical capacity is very high.

[INTELLIGENCE]

Studying is disappointing. Since he has quick power, he may have been miraculous when he infiltrated during the night. His intuition is good.

[BELIEFS]

Act as soon as you think about it. The companions first.

[RELATIONSHIPS]

[EARLY YEARS]

Raised in Shizume until childhood. A common home. Having a mother and child family, he had the spirit to protect his mother from an early age. Kamamoto is a younger brother. He left Shizume after his mother's remarriage. The marriage partner is an ordinary office worker but a good person. A younger brother and a younger sister are born between the mother and her marriage partner. Yata, who originally hates being mistreated, begins to feel a sense of alienation at home.

He met Fushimi in middle school and became a close friend. After graduating from middle school, he went to "Homura" with Fushimi without going to high school. After that, he lived in an apartment in Shizume without receiving the support of his parents. He has a part time job.

[TIMELINE]

· 1993, Yata Misaki is born.

· 2006, he meets Fushimi in middle school.

· 2009, Yata joins “Homura” with Fushimi.

· 2010, Fall, Fushimi leaves "Homura" and moves to "Scepter 4"

[ATTITUDE AND THOUGHTS TOWARDS OTHERS]

[TERMS OF THE ADDRESS FOR HIMSELF]

The first person is "Ore".

A vigorous way of speaking.

[TOWARDS SUOH MIKOTO]

He calls him "Mikoto-san".

No matter what Suoh does (even if it's natural), he thinks everything is great. Unsurprisingly, when he is passionate he goes too far.

[TOWARDS FUSHIMI SARUHIKO]

He calls him "Saruhiko" and "Monkey (when he's joking or angry)".

Fushimi was recognized as a traitor when he called him "Monkey", and "Saruhiko" when he was scary and serious.

He was angry at Fushimi's betrayal, but he was shocked because he believed in Fushimi. Depending on the circumstances, he could forgive Fushimi, and if Fushimi were willing to return to "Homura", they would bow to Suoh together. For Yata, it was considerable preparation to appeal directly to Suoh, as he was very frustrated.

[TOWARDS KUSANAGI IZUMO & TOTSUKA TATARA]

He calls them: "Kusanagi-san" and "Totsuka-san".

The two do not go up. Since proper honorifics cannot be used, honorifics and misleading words get mixed up.

[TOWARDS ANNA KUSHINA]

He calls her "Anna".

Anna's "child" side feels the same level of empathy and is easily touched, but the "girl" side is disappointed. He would like Anna to stop calling him "Misaki" if she could, but since she is Anna, he forgave her.

[TOWARDS RIKIO KAMAMOTO]

He calls him "Kamamoto".

Kamamoto is older and joined "Homura" before, but since he is a younger brother and his ability is stronger, Yata turns him into simply Kamamoto. The reason why Yata, who is younger in age, ends up calling himself "Yata-san" in "Homura", is because Kamamoto is under his spell.

#k #k project #k fan clan #yata misaki #profile yata misaki

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hotchley · 3 years ago

Text

where he's been

I did it!

I wrote the happy ending/second part, in which he makes the deliberate choice to show her and there is healing and there is joy and there is love <3

Everyone say thank you to the anon on tumblr that asked me about this when I did the WIP game, because without them we wouldn't have gotten here...

But we did! I finished a multi-chapter thing!

Trigger Warnings: scars, intrusive thoughts, trauma, references to the events of the Foyet and Doyle arcs, mild sexual content, surgery, medical things (Route 66 references mostly)

read on ao3!

previously: part one

Part Two: He Shows

The first time Aaron shows Emily his scars, she smiles.

He shows her deliberately. Because he wants to. Because he loves her, and he loves himself. Because he trusts her. He wants to be vulnerable with her in a way he could only ever be with Haley. He wants to do this, for her, and for himself. He knows they are not beautiful, that she may flinch at the sight of his humanity as everyone seems to do, but he needs her to see them. Properly. In a way that is right.

His body feels more like his with every day that passes now. He will never forget the pain his fathers emotions brought, or how he felt completely paralysed and pinned in place by George Foyet and his knife. His mind may never recover. But he's been making progress, and despite the emergency surgery, his body is recovering and he's proud of it. He's proud of himself.

And he's proud of Emily too. When she was in Paris, and he was too consumed by grief to do much more than look through the files they had on Doyle, he would feel a sense of pride in her, and all she had overcome. In all she had accomplished. In all she had survived, and continued to survive. But most of all, he was proud that she never let Doyle win.

Even when he tried to scar her body forever as a punishment for everything she had done, even though she had been right, she had always been right, she didn't let him win. She wore that scar with the same pride everyone on the team did. Because those scars made them human. They reminded him they weren't untouchable, but they were stronger than anyone gave them credit for.

It took a while for her to get there. There were still days where she would scrub the area till the skin went red, as though enough force would remove it. There were days where she would think of how far plastic surgery had come, and wonder- if she was given the chance- whether she would keep the marks. But there are other days, where she doesn't even hesitate before wearing shorts. Before wearing something with a lower neckline.

It's different for Aaron. Not for any real reason, he's just a different person. The scars that cover his torso, the scars that match the killer of his first love, of the first woman to teach him that when the poets said love hurt, they did not mean like the pain that came with smashed glass or belt marks, they meant a pleasant hurt, were almost impossible for him to accept.

The ones on his back became easier with time. Because they healed, and they faded to silver lines. He can still feel it, and can still tell when someone has touched him there. He no longer flinches, as the touches placed there are warm and gentle. Neutral. And he was a child, who deserved to be safe. A child, who shouldn't have known how to fight.

The ones left by Foyet were harder to come to terms with. He cannot feel there properly. The few times Emily has touched him- over his shirt, only ever over his shirt- he has either winced at a phantom twinge of pain or stared at her blankly because the area was numb.

He used to feel like he should've fought back. Properly. His gun was on the table, he could've grabbed it. He knows he could've because he dreams of that night more times than he doesn't. Being exhausted wasn't an excuse. Elle told him it was, but he remembers how she was- so unforgiving of herself. He wouldn't extend himself the courtesy she hadn't.

Foyet’s scars were just different. He hated having the same marks as a killer. He hated how, every time he walked into his apartment, he would remember. Vividly. The moments from his childhood still haunted him, but some of them were starting to blur together. But the feeling of the knife plunging in- he would always remember each and every single one.

The stitches tore during his thirty-four days off. He had sent everyone away, not wanting them to see just how much he needed them, because he needed to convince himself they still believed in his invincibility. The irony of his situation, especially as Derek held his hand from the bed to the wheelchair, was not lost on him. But then he regained his independence.

Then the damage done almost became irreversible. Collapsing in the conference room had been terrifying for everyone, but waking up had been the hardest thing he'd ever made himself do. During one of his brief moments of consciousness, he realised it was the damage Foyet had done when he scarred him that had led him to the abyss he'd visited once, and only once before.

When he finally gained the courage to look in the mirror, he broke. The scars were never going to heal properly, he'd realised that right before the pain became overwhelming. Foyet's hadn't. No matter how careful he may have been the second time round, the scars were never going to fade. They were still red, just less angry.

Seeing them after the surgery, in the same apartment, with the same mirror, sent him back in time. They were too red. They were too deep, too much and he couldn't look at himself, couldn't go through the pain of realising just how strong one man's hold on him was. Not for a second time.

Emily found him like that. She didn't walk in, knowing he would never recover if she did. But when he emerged thirty minutes later, wearing Haley's college hoodie that had always fit him perfectly, she took his hand. She kissed his forehead, and played with his hair as they watched one of Jack's cartoons. A part of her felt guilty for not saying something, but he felt more grateful for that than she would ever know.

They had sat on the couch until they fell asleep then. They were sitting on the couch when she touched the biggest scar, causing him to wince and run out, leading to her seeing them for the first time.

Because sometimes, the world is cyclical, they're sitting on the couch when he shows her.

This time, Jack is at a sleepover. There had been a gala, and he had looked so happy as he accepted his reward. Shocked beyond belief when Strauss announced her retirement. But so incredibly happy when she named him her successor, especially when he realised there was no reason he had to become a paper-pusher. There was no reason for him to change.

He looks so perfect, cheeks glowing and genuine smile overpowering everything else about him that she can't help but kiss him the moment they get in the car. If they seemed like love-struck teenagers to everyone that drove past then so be it. He looked handsome in his suit, but happiness suited him even more and she wouldn't let anyone dampen it.

So they're sitting on the couch, and his hands are running up and down her arms like he still can't quite believe she wants him. Her dress matches his tie- of course it does, because Aaron pouted and stared at her till she told him the colour- and she looks so beautiful that all he wants to do is watch her. She doesn't even have to do anything, so long as he can admire her.

Just like before, she touches his torso. Before he looks down, she pulls her hand away like he burnt it. A silent apology starts to pass her lips, but he kisses it away before it gets the chance to escape. Tonight, there will be no apologies. There will be no sadness.

Only them and the love they fought so hard for.

"Aaron," she says. "What's going on?"

He cannot tell her, his heart suddenly racing. He knows that he's ready to do this. He knows he wants to. He knows that there will be no shame or judgement if he suddenly stops halfway through. He knows all of that, but the traitorous, self-sabotaging part of his brain wants nothing more than to throw her out.

Before she sees his humanity. Before she gets too close and gets hurt. Before she decides that he is too damaged, and too messy, and too ruined for her to love.

But there is a piece of his brain that is stronger than that. A piece that knows she has seen his humanity every moment since she met him, all those years ago. That knows she has already gotten too close, but with her eyes wide open to all the danger that could come. She loves him. She loves him knowingly and deliberately.

He isn't ruined. He never has been. And yes, he is messy, but everyone is. She knows him. Perhaps better than he does. So she won't leave. Not this time.

He's not said anything for a while, and she's starting to worry. Then he takes her hand, as he has done a thousand times before, and the weight of it grounds her. She trusts him. Whatever he is going to do, he will do because they both want it.

"Close your eyes. Please? I'm not going to touch you, but I can't- if I say it, I'll back out," he whispers.

She realises suddenly, randomly, that the lights are still on. "Okay," she whispers, and complies. Talking feels too loud.

"You can open them now," he says, a few minutes later.

She does. And for a moment, she has no idea what's happening.

And then she sees. Properly. He's taken his shirt off, and his scars are completely visible to her. All of them. She's never loved him more. For trusting her enough to show her who he is. For loving her enough to be so vulnerable without fear. For being so brave that she no longer feels afraid of anything.

"My darling," she says, because Aaron feels too casual. But she has no words.

He takes her hand again, and presses it against his chest. She can feel his heart racing underneath it.

"This belongs to you. Whatever is left of it, however long it may beat for, it all belongs to you. Because I love you. And I trust you. So break it if you must, but carry the pieces with you because they are yours, now and forever."

Emily can't help the tears that start pooling in her eyes. She understands where this is coming from. He thought that this would be the thing that made her hesitate. One day, he will realise that this is the thing that convinced her that it was right. She had known for a while that she was going to spend whatever portion of her life that he wanted her for with him, but now she was so sure that the thought didn't fill her with dread.

There are no words in a language she speaks to tell him how much this means to her. So she settles for the ones that will do. "It won't be the pieces that I carry. It will be the whole thing. For as long as you will allow me to. I love you, Aaron Hotchner. I love you, I love you, I love you." She smiles as she says the words, not once moving away from him.

He smiles, as he always does, before he kisses her. He smiles through the kiss.

It is perfect. It is beautiful. Standing there, with him so vulnerable and her so irreversibly in love, it is hard to believe that the place they are creating their happy ending, is the same space where he was once stabbed in. The place where she set off that chain of events not so long ago.

They go to sleep, in the same bed, wrapped in each others' warmth. It feels perfect. The photo of Haley they keep on the dresser seems to glow even brighter, like she too is so proud of who they have become.

The first time Aaron shows Emily his scars, she smiles.

And Aaron does too. Because now he's shown her. Properly. And he saw her face, full of love and admiration and pride in how far he has come. She's seen them. But it was his decision. And that, more than anything, heals the final piece of his soul that Foyet destroyed.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #tw intrusive thoughts #tw scars #tw trauma #tw surgery #cw medical

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