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angstsfordays · 2 years

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Save me, Save you Prologue

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Enhanced! Avenger Reader

Summary: Your fights mostly belonged on the grounds while he worked mostly in the mystic and cosmic realms. Even though you both fought together in the infinity war to stop Thanos, you and Stephen Strange hardly ever interacted with one another. It only took one incidental misunderstanding between the two of you to bring both of you closer than ever. For two people who do not believe that they could find love, all we can say is that love finds you unexpectedly.

Chapter synopsis: A little prologue before the main story. Y/N L/N thought her first meeting with Stephen Strange- Master of the Mystic Arts was on during the battle with Thanos to save Earth. However, their chance encounter took place years before that at Metro-General Hospital.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1.3k

Notes: Hi! It has been a while, I finally returned to the land of writing after sorting out my life outside of Tumblr! My recent Marvel obsession has switched to Stephen Strange after watching Dr Strange 2. I’m like….ok…Stephen…I never knew you were so fineeee. So here I am, back with a fic that has been in my head for awhile and I am now putting it into words! Hope y’all like it! 😊

Chapters: One| Two | Three |

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Stephen Strange finally had a breather after 8-hour neurosurgery for a patient. Running his hands through the options in the pantry’s refrigerator, Stephen could not decide between a bottle of water or a can of soda.

Just as his fingers opened the tab and a popping sound went off, the door to the pantry opened with such a force, a gust of air brushed past his cheeks. Stephen’s sharp blue eyes despite the tiring surgery prior went to the frantic junior doctor from A&E that was panting yet looked frightened at the sight of him.

Stephen did not speak yet, opting to raise his brow and lifted the can of soda to his lips as the refreshing liquid went down his throat.

“Dr Strange, I don’t mean to disturb you. I-I know you just finished a surgery b-b-but there’s an emerg-” Stephen tried his hardest to hold back the eye roll that he was about to give. Give me a break, he thought….

“Speak properly.” His curt words were enough to silence the junior doctor and gave him moments to recollect himself.

“Dr Palmer asked for your help. She said that you are her best hope.” Hearing Christine’s name shifted his initial attitude and he was willing to push aside the fact that he has not slept in 48 hours to help his ex, albeit now good (and only) friend out.

“Alright.” Stephen downed the rest of his drink before chugging it into the bin and followed the junior doctor’s lead.

The A&E was filled with many patients as usual. The junior doctor opened up the curtain to one of the beds and Stephen was met with the sight of Christine evaluating the patient. In a quick glance, Stephen saw dried blood on the woman’s head which stained the pillow beneath her.

Alerted of his presence, Christine heaved a sigh of relief when she saw him arrived.

“What’s going on?”

“She was hit on the head by falling debris. It’s a miracle that she’s even alive. Her head was concussed and concluded to be the most affected after our check. Aside from some trauma to the torso, she appears to be well everywhere else.”

Christine gave a brief rundown of the patient and stepped aside as Stephen moved forward to have a better look. You looked familiar, Stephen thought for a moment as he saw that though your eyes were closed, you were conscious and whimpering in pain.

He could hear you saying something and leaned forward to listen more clearly.

“Help please.”

“She’s an Avenger.” A new voice popped up from the other side of the bed.

“What?” Stephen asked with a puzzled expression.

“She’s one of the Avengers. A fire broke out in one of the labs of a science facility and she happened to be visiting. She was helping to evacuate everyone with the fire department. She went back to save someone who was still trapped. She got out with the civilian but there was a sudden explosion. She used her body as shield but apparently the debris hit her before her powers came up as a protective barrier.”

One of the A&E nurses who heard from the onsite paramedics recounted.

“Please save me.” Stephen could hear your breathy pleas. Your hand raised slightly and what took everyone aback was the sudden surge of energy radiating from your palms.

Everyone at your bedside took a step back at your sudden display of powers. Stephen was not usually fazed, he was known to be one of the most confident individual to most people and he always seemed liked he was never nervous. But this time, Stephen was momentarily dazed as he witnessed the flickering of the energy sparks coming from you.

“How do we exactly help a super-powered person?” The A&E junior doctor spoke up. Just as Stephen was about to reply, a surge of energy blasted from your hands and caused damage to the ceiling above.

Everyone was shocked and panicked on how to deal with you. They never exactly had a enhanced individual come through to their ward before.

Stephen’s attention went back to your increased frantic movements and he put two and two together that since you were in pain, your powers likely are acting up out of a defense mechanism.

Christine proposed the idea of a sedative so that they were able to properly treat you and ensure that your powers could be under control while you were getting the help you needed.

The nurse was already on her heels to get a sedative when you started to call out in a strained voice. Tears were already falling from your tightly shut lids and anyone would feel an ache seeing how much pain you were in.

He did not know what compelled him to do it but Stephen reached forward to hold your hand which had returned to normal. He then started to try getting to you to calm down by reassuring that you were fine, that you were at the hospital and you were going to get help.

For a moment, all was calm as your writhing ceased. Everyone looked between each other to assume that the worst was over. As the nurse arrived with the sedative, Christine was prepared to administer it when a glow of your powers formed.

Everyone gasped as they saw that Stephen was still holding onto your hands and thought that he might have gotten hurt from the contact.

However, that was not the case as he appeared fine. Your powers were not hurting him at all. In fact, Stephen was pleasantly surprised by the soothing warmth oozing from your palms to his. He never felt such soft and comfort.

Stephen felt a small squeeze from your hand.

“Thank you.” You whispered before dropping your hand and his down to the bed. It was only a short moment before Stephen snapped back to reality and stood up. He gently let go of your hands before turning to the junior doctor.

“Get a room ready.” Stephen ordered before the junior doctor nodded fervently and rushed to make the call.

Stephen looked to you again before to Christine. No words were exchanged as the two tried to process what just happened. Stephen looked to you before to his hand. In his many years of his career, this would stay as one of the most memorable moments.

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Stephen ensured a successful surgery for you, unlikely that you would suffer from any effects post-surgery. He had gone home after your surgery concluded and was prepared to see you again in your ward the next day.

He was unsure why he looked forward to seeing how you were, a small smile unknowingly formed on his face as he made his way to work.

But alas to his disappointment, he was informed that Tony Stark had personally came to pick you up and transfer you back to a private ward in the Avengers upstate compound.

Stephen doubted that he would ever see you again.

Meanwhile after you woke up from your surgery and took time to take a break from the field, it only dawned upon you that you have yet to thank the doctor that saved you. From what you heard, if it were not for him, you could have suffered a worser fate.

With a bottle of wine and bouquet of flowers, you were nervous yet excited as you stepped into Metro-General Hospital. To your disappointment, the nurse from the neurosurgery department informed you that Dr Stephen Strange had resigned. The nurse relayed to you that Dr Strange had gotten into a car accident which crippled his hands and ended his surgical career.

Tears were welling up in your eyes as you processed this news. When you asked if there was a way to reach to him, the nurse directed you to Christine Palmer. Your heart sank when she told you that she was no longer in contact with Dr Strange who decided to cut everyone from his life.

She advised you to not reach out to him as he was still processing grief and loss. He was also not in New York anymore from what she last known. Taking her advice knowing that she was or is a good friend of his, you decided to stop your pursuit of him.

You wondered if there would ever be a day that you could meet Stephen Strange and thank him properly for saving you.

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Alright! So that’s the prologue to the fic, Save me, Save you. I hope you would be interested to give it a read and let me know what you think! I would aim to have the first chapter up soon!

This story is going to be fluffy, romantic and angsty and a slice of life all wrapped into one. ♥️

Till then,

Angstfordays 💛

#stephen strange x you #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #angstsfordays #save me save you #marvel fanfiction #Stephen strange fanfiction #doctor strange fanfiction

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freedfromthegalactichivemind · 1 year

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I think one of the things that disturbs me most about Spop fandom is the desire / need some people have to see characters punished? I don’t know if this is a matter of something missing vs. what we got in the show vs. expectations for fiction / the way stories usually go or of this is some kind of more disturbing pent-up projection issue that a lot of people have. I don’t know... it seems like we’re bred on media that has the whole “bad guy characters must be punished! Often with death!” Not even given “chance to rebuild or make amends” because it’s “never enough!” or “wasn’t done the right way! They needed to be hurt more!” and “If there is a redemption arc, they kind of have to be not-really-a-bad-guy to begin with and thus not *actually* be a villain!” Or, sometimes (Kipo, I’m looking at you), a bad guy makes a genuine change in life and does start becoming a good person, but is also killed at the end because he used to be a bad guy and anyone who starts out as a bad guy deserves to die and/or be exiled and lonely / locked up forever / torture in some form / lose everything they love / something to happen to them. It seems to be what we are used to and what we expect, so if something subverts that expectation for a more grace-filled narrative, that fandom will become the worst fandom ever for people arguing with each other over it. It seems like it happens a lot with progressive fandoms / progressive media, too. It’s like we think we’re better than some of the old tropes, more into starting over, not holding to black and white morality, understanding what leads people to do the things that they do as far as mental illnesses and abuse cycles that we may have gone through in real life ourselves, finding new ways of thinking and living, general compassion, but, nope... we get fans of something hung up on “characters must suffer” and they still want to see death / pain to the “bad guys,” or even someone who is overall good but made a few mistakes along the way. (It honestly reminds me of some conservative media. Back in my more crazy-religious days in my cringy, cringy youth, I read a few of the Left Behind books and among their many flaws was this relentless narrative punishment of one character for the grave “sin” of once being an adultery-temptation for the main character). Dude, when Spop discourse reminds me of Left Behind, it’s time to step back. (But maybe the LB stuff was more satisfying to its fans because it was canon). If the narrative doesn’t punish a character “enough” in these fandoms (and who is to say what’s enough? Character X could go to prison for the rest of their life and half of the fandom would be pissed off that they were still ALIVE or went un-tortured, it would seem) some people just get up in arms about it.

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yumenoame · 15 days

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Soccer Club Locker Room 🔞

Chéri and his Soccer team played an amazing game. I don't really like Soccer but I'm a fan of my Chéri! As the game is now over, I wait patiently in the stands whose audience has left. I get a text message from Chéri: “I'm going through something in the locker room. Need your help!”

We must always be kind to people. So I go and help him. There is no longer a soul alive: everyone has left. “Honey!”, I call. “Hurry up! I’m really hurt!”, he informs me. I quicken my pace.

I'm left speechless when I come face to face with Chéri who's proudly standing upright… in more than one way… I've always liked his proud appearance! However, I'm a little embarrassed cause he's completely naked, firmly anchored on his two legs, his arms at his sides and his cock stiff as a bat.🍆🔥

I think he’s overdosing on beneficial hormones! But I ain't the one who's gonna complain about it.😛 I still feel a little nervous: anyone could appear in the locker room. My anxious gaze, however, has difficulty tearing itself away from his magnificent organ. I realize at this second that I know the latter better than I know Chéri. This handsome guy remains quite mysterious.

The guy remains frozen. His cock too. “You gonna leave me like this?” he asks. He reads my look; I see his forehead wrinkle. Pre-match abstinence can make him quite cranky. If I let him take the initiative, I'm gonna die🥵. I throw my hands forward on his chest and push him. He barely steps back.

“That's all you have?”, he laughs. He's right: I missed my turn. He pushes me: I step back three steps and almost fall backwards. Okay, Chéri wanna play harsh. I throw myself forward and push him harder. He's giving ground. I reiterate ; he steps back again, laughing: “Yeah back you are!” I can tell from the expression on his face that he's about to respond. But I’m ahead of him and push him even stronger: he steps back again and hits the lockers behind his back.

My natural empathy dominates me: “Sorry! Did you hurt?” My interest in him disturbs him; it's a constant. “Nope!”, he replies before coming back to me. I let him do it: he just wants to unbutton my pants. But I reject him; he laughs. I push him again so that he leans against the lockers. He wants to put his hands on me: I push them away firmly. I point the finger at him: “Don’t move!”

“I rub off on you, baby,” he says. My lips kiss his neck aggressively. I suck his skin and bite him. He appreciates. He'll have a nice hickey! I place a hand on the locker near his head. The fingerips of my other hand assess his erection. I sigh, “Yes, you’re going through something big.”

My palm wraps around his balls to gently knead them. Chéri locks his gaze with mine. I smell his warm breath and its pleasant scent.😈 I form a ring of flesh with my thumb and index finger. I slide it along his penis then I go back up, and I start a tender and perpetual movement.

I see Chéri’s cheekbones turning pink. My mouth, like a feather, caresses his lips. I love these suspended moments with Chéri, when time stops ticking. His hot lips embrace mine. It's like organic silk… I abandon his penis and take his testicles. Being careful not to cause him any pain, I knead them in my palm. As our tongues snake around each other, his pelvis moves: his testicles rub against my palm, nice and warm.

Chéri remains Cheri: he likes contrasts. He catches a lip of mine between his teeth. I feel the pressure: will he bite? He is capable of it. He smiles then finally kisses me more impetuously.

I squat down, grip my fingers tight around his cock. I start jerking him off fast and rough. The instinctive convulsions of his body mishandle the lockers, causing a devilish racket. In his throat, intense pleasure roars.

I stop everything: I release his penis, I step back and watch him fight to control the coming jet of sperm. “Little bastard!” he says to me.

I come back to him and push him against the lockers. I kneel down when a trickle of cum flows from his glans. Waste forbidden: I receive it with my tongue. My fingers grip his cock violently; Chéri explodes on my first back and forth. He leans towards me, dropping all his weight on my shoulders as copious streams of cum spurt onto my cheeks before sliding down my neck and under my shirt. I collect the semen that has flowed onto my hand and onto Chéri's cock.

I keep everything in my mouth before getting up while he's blowing hard. I present my lips to him: he takes them. Our tongues roll in his sperm, a fine stream of which drips from the corner of my lips.

Our kiss lasts for a while. When we take off from each other, we feel good. Chéri reaches out to me and embraces me with rare tenderness.

#writings #ailover #aiboy #aiart #aigayart #gayart #lgbt #gay

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winter-soldier-vibes · 3 years

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avenger!reader who suffers from depression and is really hard on herself/themself and blames themself after a mission went wrong and locks themselves out, bucky is worried abt them and comforts them

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count:3102 (wow I went off the rails a bit huh 😅)

Warnings: self-blame, mentions of death, nightmares, panic attacks, breakdown, lots of tears, this one’s really angsty, flashbacks, some fluff/comfort but so much angst

A/N: I loved this request and had a great time writing it. This one’s a lil more angsty than I usually do and deals with some heavier themes than some of my other ones, so please take care of yourself and heed the warnings. I love you guys so much!

There was nothing you could have done.

You were the first off the quinjet, anxious to get out of the unbearable silence.

You kept your head down as you walked quickly to your room, trying to make as little noise as possible, stumbling to get into your room as fast as possible, locking the door behind you as you let the tears fall.

You looked up at the ceiling, trying to stave off your breakdown as you tried to keep taking even breaths.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” you said in a small voice.

“Yes?” the AI responded.

You took a shaky breath, trying to keep your voice even. “Turn on soundproofing, please.”

“As you wish. I am picking up on signs of distress, would you like me to call Sergeant Barnes?”

You shook your head violently at the thought of anyone, especially your boyfriend seeing you like this. “No.”

“Are you sure? Would you like me to call -”

“Don’t let anyone in this room.”

“As you wish, Y/n.”

You heard a noise indicating that the room had been soundproofed.

And you lost it.

You brought a hand to your face and sank back against the wall, shoulders shaking with the force of your sobs. You pushed yourself back against the wall, trying to ground yourself. Your mind flashed back to the mission you had just returned from and you let out an agonizing scream.

You’ll never forget the looks on their faces.

“Y/n, come on we have to go!”

“Wait - no I almost have them!”

“Help us - please - no don’t go!”

Blood curdling screams that didn’t belong to you, followed by your own.

A building had collapsed on an innocent family in the aftermath of the fight. You tried to get them out, but you were too late, Steve pulling you away at the last second before you were taken out too.

You were so angry, you had been so close - if you had seen them sooner, if you had just a few more seconds, maybe you could’ve gotten them out.

The last thing that they saw was their only hope being pulled away from them before being suffocated.

You were the last thing they saw, you had promised to get them out.

And you had lied to them.

The last thing they felt was hope that they’d see another day. No - the last thing they felt was betrayal and fear when they realized that one of the world’s greatest heroes couldn’t be their hero too.

The moments that had followed were a blur, your eyes frozen on where their eyes had been, shock coursing through your veins. You had seen someone die before but...not like that. Not when you could’ve maybe saved them.

The shock quickly bubbled into anger as you turned to Steve.

“Why the FUCK would you do that? I could’ve saved them!”

“You would’ve died Y/n!”

“If you hadn’t been distracting me then maybe I would’ve gotten them out in time!”

You had angry tears in your eyes, hitting Steve’s chest and doing exactly nothing to his broad form while he tried to console you.

“Get the fuck away from me! I could’ve saved them, this is YOUR fault.”

The ride back was silent. No one dared to talk to you about what had happened. You felt bad after a while but you couldn’t apologize without completely crumbling. If you opened your mouth you were certain that sobs would come rather than words.

You did feel horrible for what you said, because it wasn’t true. It wasn’t Steve’s fault.

It was yours.

So you waited until you returned to the privacy of your room, screaming bloody murder over the guilt you felt. Replaying what had happened, telling yourself everywhere you had gone wrong, every hesitation that could’ve given you an extra few seconds.

You felt like you’d never stop seeing their eyes, paralyzed by fear.

You were the last thing they saw, and now you would remember their last moment for the rest of yours.

You couldn’t imagine the amount of pain and fear they had felt when they realized they weren’t getting out of the rubble alive. That they would die as a part of a warzone they didn’t intend to be a part of. The feeling of hope draining from their bodies, blood running cold as they realized they had mere seconds left.

“No!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, body curling in on itself as you drew your knees in and wrapped your arms around your torso, sick to your stomach.

This was your fault, and you would never forget it.

---

The rest of the team had sighed as they watched you get off the quinjet, walking a bit too fast to be alright. They shared concerned looks with each other, watching your form disappear into the compound.

You weren’t okay, but after what had happened when Steve tried to approach you, they thought it best to give you some space.

The rest of them entered the compound, going their separate ways as Steve sat to down and ran a hand down his face, trying to get his mind off of what had happened. He was shaken up too, but he couldn’t lose you like that. You would die protecting strangers, and while he thought that was noble, he wondered when there wouldn’t be someone to pull you out in time.

Bucky had come down to check on you, knowing that the team had gotten back from a mission. But before he could knock on the door, F.R.I.D.A.Y. spoke. “Sergeant Barnes, Y/n has requested that she not be disturbed.”

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows, both in concern and confusion. Usually when a mission hit you hard, you would talk to him about what had happened. So either you were just tired, or this was worse than it had ever been.

He clenched his jaw and stood there for another few moments before he walked away, heading towards anyone who may be able to tell him what happened on the mission.

He came into the common room, seeing Steve doing a mission report. Well - the mission report was in front of him and he was staring blankly at it.

“Steve?” Bucky said softly, trying not to startle him.

Steve didn’t look up.

“Steve,” Bucky said a little louder.

Steve looked up from the papers, shaking his head slightly. “Hey, Buck. What’s up?”

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked, taking in Steve’s tired appearance and how his mind seemed elsewhere.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Steve said, barely looking at Bucky.

“You know, I’ve taken care of enough black eyes from mister back-alley hero to know when you’re not really fine.” Bucky said with a small smirk.

Steve’s eyes flicked up to Bucky’s as he sighed. “It’s not me you should be worried about,” he muttered.

“What happened?” Bucky asked.

Steve recounted the mission to his friend, Bucky getting increasingly concerned about you. He knew you had a tendency to blame yourself for different things, and he knew what blaming yourself for someone’s death was like, even if you couldn’t control the situation.

Bucky was brainwashed. You were too late. Two different things, but the survivor's guilt was excruciating.

“Is she okay?” Bucky asked nervously.

“She didn’t get hurt, if that’s what you mean,” Steve started, “but she seemed pretty shaken up. You haven’t talked to her?”

“She doesn’t want to be bothered,” Bucky said.

Steve nodded. “Just give her some time,” he said, worriedly.

Bucky nodded, though unconvinced. He bottled up his emotions until the two of you met. Ever since the two of you never kept anything from each other. And he knew that seeing someone die and feeling at fault for it could destroy you. He wasn’t sure if time and space was what you needed.

But it was what you wanted right now. So he wouldn’t get in the way.

----

Back in your room you were curled in a ball on the floor, sobs wracking your body as you lost all sense of time and space and all you knew was it hurt and if you closed your eyes they were right there and you couldn’t do anything about it. You had a hand pressed to your chest as you tried to breathe but eventually gave way to a new surge of agony when your mind went back to how people died and you couldn’t help them.

You tried to calm down but then your mind would remind you that they had a family and they would never see them again and it was your fault.

“Stop, please just stop,” you put your hands over your ears as you tugged slightly on your hair.

They died terrified.

“Please make it stop,” you sobbed.

You were supposed to help them and you failed.

“No, God, please stop…”

They died because of you

----

You had fallen asleep on the floor at some point, when, you weren’t sure, but you woke up to your own screams. You were drenched in a cold sweat, dried tears on your face and chest heaving as you tried to breathe. You brought your hands to your mouth when you realized it was just a dream, sobbing once again.

You didn’t know why these people’s death was hitting you harder than any other death you had seen. This wasn’t the first time you had seen people die - far from it. You’d killed your fair share of agents without a hint at remorse. Because they deserved it.

You’d seen buildings burn down, fall apart, innocent people die - but you’d never felt as responsible as you did this time. Because they were right there. And you were so close.

But they still died and you saw their last moments. And you were theirs.

And it was destroying you.

----

You didn’t leave your room the following day. Or the day after that.

Needless to say, the team was extremely worried about you. Especially Bucky.

He knew what survivor’s guilt could do to a person, and he knew being alone with your thoughts wasn’t helping. He also knew that pushing the topic could do much more harm than good, causing you to retreat further into yourself.

He tried texting you, wanting to let you know that he was there for you, that he was worried about you, and that he loved you.

None of them went though because your phone was off, you having not even looked at it since coming back from the mission.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. was still telling everyone that you did not want to be disturbed, as you had requested. Obviously Tony had the power to override the locks, but again, no one wanted to push you.

When it had been 3 days since you had seen any sunlight, Bucky had had enough. He knew you couldn’t be taking proper care of yourself and he couldn’t let you do that to yourself. He had Tony override your locks and he came to your door, knocking gently.

“Y/n?”

Silence.

He knocked again, a little louder. “Y/n? I’m coming in, alright?”

Silence.

Bucky took a deep breath before he opened your door slowly, peeking his head in. it was the middle of the afternoon and your room was dark, the only light coming from the hallway and from the cracks between the shades, which were drawn shut.

Bucky let himself in and turned on a lamp, shutting the door behind him. He looked at you with worried eyes as he took in your appearance.

You were pressed up against the headboard of your bed, knees drawn to your chest as you stared blankly, your eyes fixated on your bedsheets. Your eyes were red, face blotchy, your hair was a mess and you were still wearing your uniform from the mission.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said quietly, voice raspy from yelling these past few days.

“Y/n -”

“Get out,” you said quietly, though not angrily.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, y/n.”

“Please,” you said, cursing yourself as your voice cracked. You didn’t want to breakdown in front of Bucky.

“It’s not your fault, y/n.”

You pushed yourself off of the bed, shaking your head. “I’m not doing this right now, Bucky.”

“You’re going to have to talk about it at some point, y/n.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“This kind of thing isn’t going to go away, okay? Time heals but not by itself.” You weren’t listening as you ran a hand over your face, overwhelmed.

“Please, talk to me y/n. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“I’m fine.”

“This isn’t fine. Not taking care of yourself and living in the dark staring at the wall isn’t fine, y/n. Please, don’t hide from me. It’s just me, y/n.”

You shook your head, eyes glazed over like glass. “I could’ve saved them.” you said simply.

“Y/n, there was nothing -”

“BULLSHIT!” You yelled. “There had to have been something I could do, if I had gotten there earlier or - or if I had moved faster or been stronger then I could’ve gotten them out! It’s my fault they’re dead okay? I couldn’t save them and that’s my fault!”

Bucky walked over to you slowly, asking you to look at him. “It isn’t your fault, y/n. The building collapsed, no one could’ve gotten them out.”

“I could have saved them.” you said again, tears falling down your face. “I could have gotten them out. I was the last thing they saw and you know what I was doing? Being carried away like some coward. They died afraid because a superhero couldn’t save them. And that’s on me.”

Bucky shook his head slightly. “You can’t save everyone, y/n.”

“So what, am I supposed to choose? I’m supposed to choose whether I save people or move on because they aren’t part of the mission? Am I supposed to let them die?” you asked incredulously.

“You can’t risk your own life like that, y/n.”

“What? And pretend like my life is any more important than theirs?!” you exclaimed.

“Y/n -”

“No, why do I have the right to walk away from people because I’m afraid of getting hurt when they’re about to die? What gives me that right?”

“Because I can’t lose you!” Bucky exclaimed. “Yes, those people matter, but goddamn it y/n, you have helped so many people and you will keep saving so many people, but you can’t do that if you’re dead. We help who we can and mourn the rest. It’s not your fault that those people died. There was nothing that you could have done.”

“But if I had a few more seconds -”

“The building still would have fallen and you’d be asking yourself for a few more seconds. There is nothing you or anyone else could’ve done.”

You stayed silent, more tears falling from your eyes. Bucky pulled you in for a hug as your shoulders started to shake with more sobs. “I know it doesn’t make it hurt any less, but it’s not your fault.”

“I can’t stop seeing the look they had on their faces,” you shook your head. “Everytime I try to sleep I see them and I can’t make it go away. And I want to forget but I don’t deserve to and it hurts but I don’t deserve to forget.”

“I know, I know,” Bucky said, knowing all too well what being haunted by the fear on someone’s face was like. “But it’s not your fault. You didn’t let them die, y/n. You would’ve given anything to save them, if Steve hadn’t pulled you away you would’ve died with them. You didn’t run away even though you knew you would die if you stayed. You do know that right?”

“I don’t care.”

“I don’t think you mean that,” Bucky said softly. You felt new tears fall from your eyes as you hid your face into Bucky’s chest.

“You can’t tell me that nothing could be done. You can’t tell me that innocent people were going to die and that’s the way it has to be. That isn’t fair,” you spoke through your tears.

Bucky pulled back to wipe the tears from your face and look you in the eyes. “They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you did everything in your power to save them. It’s not your fault that you got there too late. Those HYDRA agents who destroyed the city - it’s their fault. Not yours.”

“I’m supposed to protect people,” you said as you shrugged and shook your head slightly. “If I can’t do that then what am I?”

“A person who is trying their best. You don’t always have to be everyone’s hero. You don’t have to take responsibility for everyone, that’s too much to expect of anyone. It’s not your responsibility to save everyone because you can’t. But you’ve saved so many people that would’ve died if you weren’t there. You are so important, but you have to stay alive to help more people.”

You took a shaky breath. “Those people were going to die no matter what,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Bucky. Your chest tightened again and you felt sick. “Oh my God,” you said, the acceptance of the fact brought on a new wave of emotions as your knees felt weak.

Bucky pulled you back into his chest again, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “It’s not your fault, y/n.”

“Then why does it hurt so much?” you sobbed against his chest.

“Because you have a good heart.”

You shook your head against his chest. “I don’t want one if it means it’s going to hurt this much.”

“It’s okay, y/n. It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you.”

“Please make it stop. I don’t want it to hurt anymore.”

Bucky felt tears sting his own eyes at your pain, holding you tighter against him. He cleared his throat before saying “I can’t make it go away. But I’m here to hold you and do everything I can to make it better. I’m not going anywhere y/n.”

He held you against his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

--------

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littlesniggy · 3 years

Note

Hey could i request an Ace x female!reader scenario where she is Whitebeard’s biological daughter and the “little sister” of the crew. And she gets pregnant by Ace but nobody knows about it because they kept their relationship secret. So while the crew are eating lunch, the reader suddenly stands up and announces her pregnancy without giving Ace a warning (he already knew about it but didnt expect her s/o to say it outloud) So he just sits there all nervous while the crew is interrogating the reader about who is the father so they can kill him . Also i imagine whitebeard just choking on his beer for the shocking news lol.Srry if its too especific, change wtv u want about it.

Hello! Thank you for requesting! I hope I wrote everything to your liking. I probably went a little too much into Whitebeard's reaction but oh well...Please enjoy!

Pairing: Ace x female! reader

Crew's and Whitebeard's reaction to reader announcing her pregnancy

Word count: 1.2k

“I’m pregnant, Ace.” He thought those words had caught him completely off guard. Your slightly trembling voice, your insecure tone, your harried eyes, darting from him to the wall behind him and back to him again; and he couldn’t say a word. Thinking about it now, he felt bad about his reaction but he was simply stunned. The first thing that had come to his mind was: How?

Of course, Ace knew how babies were made but didn’t you to use contraception? Sure, there was always a risk when having sex but Ace would’ve never thought he’d come into such a precarious situation.

The lack of speech had you think it was a bad idea; you should’ve never told him in the first place and just gotten rid of it. But you didn’t want to. You’ve already made up your mind that you would get the baby, if Ace wanted to or not. You wouldn’t even push him to be part of its life if he didn’t want to.

Ace noticed you becoming more insecure by the second and snapped back from his thoughts. “Hey, hey. Why that face?” he asked, trying to smile encouraging even though he felt insecure himself. “That’s great. It just came so…suddenly, y’know?” he said honestly, putting a hand on your cheek, stroking it your skin lightly.

“I know. I’m sorry to just tell you like this. But better now than never. I was shocked myself.” You admitted, leaning into his touch. A huge burden was being lifted from your shoulders and you were glad that Ace accepted it like this. Now came the difficult part though – how should you tell your father, Whitebeard?

Ace nearly choked when you announced your pregnancy to the crew out of nowhere. He stared at you wide eyed, face an unhealthy red. Did you catch him off guard back then? Absolutely. Did he think you could manage that again? Absolutely not. Was this announcement to your friends and family even worse? Holy shit, yes! Why didn’t you give him a heads up, an early warning? Anything, really!

All eyes were on you, a small smile on your lips. Marco was the first one to clear his throat. “W-what did you say?” he tried to get affirmation that he just misheard but you didn’t do him this favor. “I said, I’m pregnant.” You repeated yourself as if nothing was wrong with this statement.

Ace looked over the faces of his friends, some were shocked, some were angry, and some just had a blank expression. He didn’t want to look over to Whitebeard but he just had to take a quick look.

The old man was sitting at the head-side of the table, with a huge bottle of booze in his hand and completely frozen in place. Ace wasn’t sure if he even was still alive. Maybe the old man had a heart attack? Not too uncommon for people his age.

And suddenly, there was a lot of commotion on the table. Everyone was talking over each other, asking you questions over questions without waiting for an answer.

“Who did this to you?” “Did you get hurt?” “Tell us the name of this bastard!” “We will hunt him down, cut his dick off and present it to the sea monsters as some kind of offering!”

Every pair of eyes looked at the person who just said the last suggestion in confusion. “What?” Marco asked, bewildered from this comment. “I-I was just thinking…never mind.” The man said and sat back down, drinking his beer in silence. The pairs of eyes were shortly after back on you, everyone expecting an answer.

“Whoever this bastard is should run far, far away.” The deep voice of your father sounded from the far end. Apparently, no heart attack. Ace thought to himself. You looked at Whitebeard with a small smile on your lips, shaking your head.

“And why should he?” you wanted to know, intending on making Ace sweat a little more for the time being. It was kind of your revenge for him being silent for so long when you told him. It was petty, you knew but in your eyes you got a free pass. After all, you were going to go through a lot of pain in the end.

“Because once I get him into my hands I will personally crush this man with all I’ve got. So I hope he’s already on the run.” Whitebeard was mad. Not, because you were pregnant but because someone dared to touch his beloved daughter. Ace swallowed hard and looked over to you with a slightly pleading look on his face.

“So, you would crush your second division commander? That would be a shame. You’d loose one of your best men.” Silence. Aces’ eyes were wide open and his face said it all. How can she say this so nonchalantly?! Is she out of her mind?! Every single pair of eyes were now on him, disbelief written all over them. You could hear a pin drop; nobody dared to speak up.

“So, you’re the one who touched my precious daughter, Ace?” Whitebeard slowly got up from his seat, his heavy footsteps rumbling through the boat. “W-well….I-I can explain, pops.” Ace also got up from his place, slowly backing away with a shaky smile on his face, hands held up in defense.

“Really? Let me hear your excuse, then.” Whitebeard was standing in front of him, and it was the first time Ace felt intimidated by his captain. But before he could say anything you came between them, taking Aces’ hand and holding it tightly.

“We’ve been dating for quite some time now. We just thought it’d be better if nobody knew.” You said, looking up at your father.

Whispering could be heard from the rest of the crew at this revelation. Whitebeard raised an eyebrow. “For quite some time, huh? Why didn’t you tell me, Y/n? I’m your father.” Did he sound hurt? Or were you just mistaking? Either way, you felt guilty. “We just thought it’d be best for the crew if nobody knew. We didn’t want to cause disturbances on the ship.”

Whitebeard stayed silent for a moment, then looked behind you to Ace who immediately tensed up. “If you do anything and hurt my daughter or my grandchild in any way I will make my words from earlier come true. I can always get a new second division commander.” There was a small smile on his lips as he turned back to return to his seat.

You turned around to Ace and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. “Why are you so tense? Everything went great!” you said innocently, pulling him back to the table where the rest of the crew was waiting to ask you two more questions. Before you two sat down, this time next to each other, Ace whispered into your ear. “Someone’s getting punished later on, Y/n. You almost gave the old man a heart attack, y’know?” he chuckled but was silenced by you almost immediately. “Just cause you’ll become a father doesn’t mean you have to call yourself ‘old man’.” Knowing full well he meant Whitebeard.

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artzee-bee · 3 years

Text

End of all things [1] | Chat Noir x witch!reader

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug (Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir)

Summary: Y/N had been Chat Noir’s friend and moral support for a long time now. Even though she had magical powers too, she never liked getting involved with akuma attacks, but now, as Hawkmoth’s gotten control of the miraculous of creation, she couldn’t stay indiferent anymore. She had to save her friend and Paris!

Genre: Mostly angst? A little fluff

Warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of death/dying

A/N: This was requested, but as I was writting it, it got very long and I’ve decided to post it in 2 parts. I’m not gonna post the request just now, so as to not spoil the rest of the story but Part 2 will be coming out on friday!!!

Part 2

~~~

Chat was pacing around the room, waiting for you to be done with your potion. You had heard from your parents that there had been a new akuma attack today, but as the news reported, the two parisian heros took care of the problem in no time. For this reason, Chat’s presence at your house felt unusual. Normally he would stop by when he needed to rant, when he was in need of comfort and reassurance but the fight today went well, so what could possibly be bothering him?

“Ok, I’m done” you said, screwing the cap on the little bottle and placing it on your shelf “Wanna talk?” you asked, to which Chat gave you a shy smile

“Yeah, a little”

You made your way to your bed, motioning for him to follow you. You got under your covers and passed him his favorite plushie, a cat to no one’s surprise

“So what’s up? Is it about the fight today?”

“Well no it’s more like a...personal problem?”

“Oh…”

“Claws out” in a rush of light and electricity, the infamous hero vanished before you, transforming into Adrien Agrest

“Well, what is it?”

Adrien revealed his identity to you months ago. You first met him as Chat, but when you really got to know each other, he decided you needed to know all of him. Well, he needed you to know all of him.

You listened to him rant until way past midnight. Until you were both too tired to stand up straight, so you laid down in your bed, covers up to your necks, muffled stories told in between yawns. You listened carefully, giving him your full attention. He fidgeted with the collar of the stuffed toy and you used your magic to make 2 hot chocolates. Eventually, everything that needed to be said, was said. You offered Adrien to watch a movie, since that always cheered him up, but he refused

“It’s late and I have a photoshoot early in the morning. My makeup team will be angry with my dark circles anyways, better not make it worse” he joked

Adrien transformed back into Chat and you cast a safety spell on him, which you did every time he left your house late at night. He always teased you about being ‘too protective’, but deep down he found it sweet how much you cared and wanted to know that he would get home in one piece.

“Night Chat” you said, wrapping your arms around the hero

“Good night Y/N!”

The next few days went by quietly. You hadn’t run into Adrien at all, but you texted a bit back and forth. Sunday evening however, things took a toll for the worst. You turned on your tv, ready to catch up with your show when you heard Nadja Chamack’s voice doing the news report

“It seems as though Rena Rouge and Chat Noir are struggling to stay on their feet! They have taken shelter under a fallen bus, leaving Ladybug alone to defeat Hawkmoth'' your pulse skyrocketed. As you watched the screen you could see Chat and Rena off to the side, struggling to catch their breath. Rena seemed to be in pain while Chat was trying to help. Ladybug was using her yoyo the best she could in order to protect herself from the supervillain, who was wielding his cane like a sword over her head. The fight was clearly going in Hawkmoth's favour! You grabbed your jacket and ran out the front door and onto the empty streets of Paris, towards the Eiffel Tower, where the fight was taking place.

People screamed at you from their balconies to go home, warning you about the fight and the danger you were putting your life in but you didn’t care. All you could think about was how they needed you. Chat needed you! Every late night talk and every inside joke shared between you two replaid in your head like a broken record. Behind Chat’s tough mask, his alter ego of hero and protector, was the fragile figure of Adrien Agreste. The young blonde boy who cried during romantic comedies, who liked to have his hair braided and forgot how to speak when someone complimented him. If you didn’t help, the heros would loose and he would most likely die! Alongside Ladybug and Rena who, even though you didn’t know their real identities, were still young girls. As you ran down the street, you heard kids crying inside one of the homes. You ran past but at the last second you heard Nadia’s voice coming from their tv

“Ladybug was akumatized”

You approached the Eiffel tower from the side, where you could see everything going on. In front of the tower, right next to Hawkmoth, stood Marinette Dupain-Cheng, dressed in a tight, dark red suit, darker than Ladybug’s. Black butterflies replaced the dots of the heroine's suit and the purple butterfly mask of Hawkmoth’s control was shining over her face. Marinette was Ladybug! She did, in fact, get akumatized. On the other side, you saw Rena and Chat, struggling to stay up right. They were obviously in a lot of pain and extremely tired, but Hawkmoth was merely mocking them.

“After all this time” Chat spoke up, but his breaths were shallow and rapid “I thought you’d know one thing about us! We don’t give up without a fight. Never will. Especially not against you” and with that, the two ran at each other.

“It doesn’t have to end like this, you know?” he said “We don’t have to fight to death. I wouldn’t want to have that on my conscience. All you have to do is give me your miraculouses willingly. The town will be safe, you will be safe! It’s the most heroic option you’ve got. You won’t be any good to Paris if you are dead”

You knew this was not just another fight between them. This was it. Either the heros won or everything they’ve worked for would be lost. Hawkmoth would win and get his hands on both miraculous and god knows what kind of destruction that would bring not only upon Paris, but the world. You focused all your energy in one spot in the air, right between where Chat and Hawkmoth were supposed to clash but before they could reach each other, you sent a wave of energy that blew both of them apart, like a bomb. Hawkmoth flew back into the Eiffel tower while Chat hit the pavement with a thud. Confused and certainly disturbed, both of them began looking around for an answer as to what happened when, finally, Hawkmoth’s eyes landed on yours.

“Aha, miss Y/L/N. What a spectacular honor to finally meet you!” you didn’t reply, instead you stood tall, maintaining eye contact

“I know a lot about you. Seen a lot. Felt a lot of your emotions. None of them can compare to the powers I’ll have with the two miraculouses. With Ladybug’s earrings and the guardian under my control, I’d say my mission here is almost over’’

“Y/N get back!’’ Chat screamed but you were too involved now to run. This was your fight too.

“It is time you give up Hawkmoth. Paris is not yours, neither are the miraculouses. We will destroy you, no matter what it takes!”

“Listen to yourself, kid! <<Destroy me>>? The most you can do is pull a rabbit out of your hat…” before he could finish his sentence, you snapped your fingers in his direction and instantly, the ground around beneath Hawkmoth and akumatized Marinette, fractured. From within the cracks, many tangled plants came out, encapsulating the 2 villains. You sprinted towards Chat and Rena, ignoring the signs of struggle coming from the prison of weeds.

Alongside the two superheros, you hid inside a corner coffee shop, which was now empty.

“Y/N, you need to leave!! You are putting yourself in too much danger!” Rena told you, as she collapsed to the ground from exhaustion

“Stop with that already! I am here and I’m not going anywhere!”

“Yes you are!” Chat looked at you. His voice was calm and yet, his eyes were filled with disappointment “You are not a superhero. This is our job!”

“You need help”

“No we don’t!” Chat had never, in all your years of friendship, raised his voice at you, let alone yell “ You need to stay safe! You could die! Hawkmoth doesn’t care about anything if it helps him get what he wants! I am ready to take that risk. Rena is too” you both turned to the red headed hero, only to see her slowly nod “But I can’t allow you to take it”

“You can’t tell me what to do”

“I don’t want you to die!” he screamed again “I love you and I will never forgive myself if you don’t come out of this alive!”

Before you could say anything, you saw Hawkmoth and his minion, through the cafe window, cutting through the last of the plants and escaping your trap. You grabbed Chat’s arm and pulled him to the floor, from where you could not be seen

“We’re in this together now” you said in a stern voice, looking the blonde kid right in his eyes “Whether you like it or not '' this time, he simply nodded.

You stuffed your hands into the pocket of your jacket and pulled out 3 little bottles, containing a mate, green liquid. You had prepared one for each of the heros, now you’d only need two.

“Here, drink this!” You handed each of them one “Regeneration potion. Should put you back on your feet.” as soon as they finished drinking the brew, you could see color coming back to their faces

“Where’s Marinette’s akuma??”

“Her necklace” replied Rena “It’s a gift from her kwami”

“Got it. You deal with Hawkmoth. I’ll bring Marinette back!”

Chat and Rena exited through the front door, grabbing Hawkmoth’s attention. He called out to Marinette to attack, but before she could take a single step in your direction, you had snuck up behind her. Using a simple invisibility spell, you managed to exit unnoticed behind the two heros. It finally felt like the fight had truly begun. From the corner of your eye you could see Chat and Rena doging Hawkmoth’s attacks while you, were doing your best to get your hands on the stupid necklace! Even though she couldn’t see you, Marinette seemed to almost always know what your next move was. She would expertly block all your attack and would keep you an arm’s length away at all times. Finally, you had enough and in one swift motion, you pinned her back to your chest, ripping the necklace away. A wave of black and purple took over the both of you and when it vanished, all you were left with was a half unconscious Marinette in your arms. You dropped her to the ground slowly as she was coming back to her senses. You wanted to talk to her but your thoughts were driven away as you heard Chat scream bloody murder.

On the opposite side of the platza, you saw Hawkmoth rip Chat’s ring off his finger, forcing him to detransform. The exhausted figure of Adrien Agreste fell to the ground with a thud. Hawkmoth had, indeed, gotten his hand on both the miraculouses.

#miraculous ladybug #mlb #mlb x reader #adrien agreste #adrien agreste x reader #adrien agreste fluff #adrien agreste imagine #adrien agreste angst #chat noir #chat noir x reader #chat noir fluff #chat noir imagine #chat noir angst #rena rogue #marinette dupain cheng #ml ladybug

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alberivh · 3 years

Text

devotion (ROYAL AU) — pt.1 : realization.

Butler! Diluc X GN!Reader . Royal! childe (as supporting character), butler! Kaeya (supporting cast ; in pt2 story line)

contains : heavy angst, comfort/hurt, isolation, arranged marriage, major character death, mentions of blood, injuries, execution, abusive relationship, abandonment, ‘consumption’, false accusation, blades

summaries : arranged marriage has always been one of your family ruthless tradition. You were allowed to love them you couldn’t reach, yet the feeling of being abandoned once and for all by those who you truly treasured was more than numbness could ever describe. Diluc who’s your lover need to accept this tradition, yet he, himself need to get his life down for your future sake.

A/N : thank you for 100 followers!! It has been a wild ride since i’ve just joined this community. Thank you very much and as a rewards, here’s a token of heavy angst for y’all. I have a really bad writing block right now, so this might took more than you think hehe. So once again, thank you very much! ( i actually hate this, tyvm)

“Your majesty…please allow me to hold y—“

“No. I simply do not have time for people pleaser, please let yourself be out from here..” , you cursed your future-husband out of from your bounties. It startled all of the maids and butlers in your room, it even make your somewhat-fiancé looked awful. You were pissed by him, by the structure of his eyelids, the heavy breathe from who-knows-where and many more part of him you don’t even want to recognize.

There’s no reason to deny that you hate this, all of this, Known as the maiden of the family, you were nothing but their only pry. It pissed you, it really does. How come you are holding the throne at the age of 25? Aren’t you supposed to check your garden instead taking all of your well-behave throne and the awful arranged marriage your family has made? No? What an unlucky person you are, the butlers thought.

“Diluc please guide master tartaglia to the upfront door, i have no intention to see him now. If you already had brought him downstairs, get back to my resident immediately.”

“this is the main reason why everyone despis—“

“Please leave Immediately. My master have no further interest to speak with you, master tartaglia.” Diluc shouted your internal response to the group of scums in front of your sight. He heard enough of this small talk your future-husband has been talking about. Diluc wasn’t jealous, he was simply too disturbed with your disgusted face everytime tartaglia walks around your residence. just how much pressured you had been under to make you act so ruthless in front of the man you’ll called husband in no time?

he silently observing him down the hall. Not wanting to have a talk with a scum like him, he avoid any sights of his ‘particular’ interest. After all, in his eyes, tartaglia doesn’t deserve any part of you. He acts too normally, there diluc suspicion of your fiancé grown. There must be something behind his motive. Tartaglia have recognize diluc’s gaze for a while now. Though, he pretend none of those bothering suspicion triggered his rage. And so, he fired him up with a quick straightforward awareness. Or as the citizen say, A threat.

“mr. Butler..stop loving my future partner or tomorrow you’ll have the consequences..got it? And do not touch them..i’ve warned you when you were alive, i like my future partner to be a virgin ins—“

“master tartaglia i have no relationship with the majesty, how come you assume such a thing from a humble butler like me? I was just simply following orders, hope you could understand, master tartaglia.” , answering his rage. Tartaglia found his emotion drains wild. It look like those bothering emotions he hide finally show diluc their true intention to spoiled you. Diluc’s eyes met your fiancé terrifying visions, the murderous aura in it explains his true intention. Diluc could only plea inside, let my majesty be safe.

“don’t you dare say anything to your master, mr butler. My partner has been mine all along, stay away from our relationship or tomorrow would be your last day…”

“Though, i simply wouldn’t mind, ajax.” , he gurantees tartaglia’s eyes.

The night came. the breeze flew through your open windows, leaving chills through your spine. it was an unsurprisingly beautiful night, you quoted. Diluc was preparing your bed, as you humm through the southed area of your room. The melodical sound of your humming have always soothes his grudge from afar. It was always been his favorite sound.

“ your majesty, the bed has been done. You may rest peacefully now..so please excuse m—“

“Diluc…stop making it seems like i’m the only one who loved you..just stay here, i missed you a lot..” , in a sudden your arm was attached to his body, his dirty and ordinary body. You embraced him so tightly, as if diluc were going to some place you wouldn’t want him to cross. You were scared of losing him. You don’t want any of this marriage, you don’t want tartaglia to even acknowledge your presence. You just want diluc to stay by your side, even if you both have considered how selfish it is.

You clunge onto his chest, pressing gentle kiss on his cheeks. Not wanting him to leave nor to leave you behind. So desperate of you to feel this way.

“you’ve been doing great darling,i’m proud of you..”

“please stay like this for a while, i love you. So please, don’t go..don’t go..” , diluc watch your flattering smile turns into a small-sobs, it cracks him, he doesn’t want to let you go either. He was simply following your fiancé awareness, he doesn’t want anyone to harm you, even if it meant for you to see him in agony. Diluc Carries your figure into your bed in return, not wanting to bare any of his emotions. Feelings are fragile and so do he. giving soft and gentle kisses to your forehead as he wiped your tears, whispering a ‘goodnight’ before he left you again. If he was being honest, he wants to be more selfish, he wants to be with you, forever.

“hmm..i’ll be waiting for you, goodnight my beloved..”

“What’s with the inconvenience…?” The loud atmosphere greet you with chills. What time is it? You don’t even know. All you know is the sunrise have yet to grown out from the wave of the clouds. but why must all of your maids gather themself on your room, something important? But why must them gather at the edge of dusk..? Did your mother fucked up again? But actually, what happened?

At the same time, you mumbled a form of question. Where’s diluc? You asked yourself.

“Y-Your majesty! d-diluc have now been courted by the queen, i-i don’t know what happened but please stay put i shall help you! Yes! I-i—“ courted? In sudden, you dropped your glasses. The broken piece of the glasses shard scarred your leg. It was painful, but you didn’t care. The blood shed of your scars leave the carpet of your resident turn into a red motives of blood. What did diluc do to make himself courted by your own mother? All he did was to love me, mother. The maid beside you were in all panics, trying to brag your arm from leaving the room. Although you declined the embrace of it, you were still running in pain, it made the maids panics turn into vomits.

Rushing through the open corridor of your resident in sweats and blood shed, You found diluc. His hands tied with a rope, a slight red bruises covered his face. He was Courted by your mother because of an unknown letter that has been sent to the queen herself, it was dumb for her to court an innocent person like him. Though, at last, you found yourself screaming his name. The pain which hold onto your consciousness leave your body in a second. diluc was aware of this, Everything. His hands wanted to touch you and lead you to rest. but he couldn’t, the execution would be in front of his eyes in no time.

“you did harm my child don’t you? Look at those blood on their legs! How come a butler like you harmed my precious child..?! They are unconscious because of you filthy butler. Know your degree, h—“

“you abuse them, your highness. You abuse them, ever since their father die, you abandoned them and break them to pieces. How come you only care about them dying when their time to hold the throne came? They were dying because of you, those consumption they witness are all because of you. And you dare to tell me what to do when all i did was just to love them?!” He quoted every single words you wish you could say to your mothers face. You wished you have the audacity to tell her the truth, yet your weak body refuse it’s urge to make diluc out of the execution lines. I’m sorry, i’m really sorry.

silence fill the room. You were laying in pain, as you heard diluc’s defense and your mother’s lies. You realized once more, you were nothing to them. Just a pry for the throne. none of the guards have pitied you either, they are too focused on never-letting diluc’s eyes or hands meet your figure in this state of time. Those scarred glasses on your legs have made you lose too-many bloods, it scared diluc. After all, as a lover he is, he has devoted himself to protect you in all cost. let them be safe and take me away. It’s his last hope for you to stay awake for him.

“no execution needed. I have no reason to pay attention to fools like you. so isolation it is. This is all because of you, my child is dying and you’re the one at fault. Noticed how they haven’t even called your name again? They died because your lack of responsibility.” , spitting her mucus in diluc’s knees. You could barely saw diluc chills which you usually saw in his eyes. He’s about to cry..you think.

“Guards, please take my child away and let them rest in their bed. And so for this butler, put him in the isolation room, make sure to let him eat only once in a day, understood? Ah..don’t let my child see him, i don’t want them to see an abuser like him crawling out their life’s on my window.” , orders from your mother are none to first. They couldn’t be disobey and you understand them. You understand how ruthless it is, you understand it. But why must diluc? Why him? You saw the sight of him, blades are all over his neck. For what reason actually? To let him never see you again.

carried by the guards to your room and diluc was gone from your vision. He is not wrong, your highness. So why must those who loved me left my side, mother? Why won’t these bruises you add to my flawless skin never leave me? Is it because i’m a procession of your own sin? It was a cursed to fall in love with those you could barely reach.

PART 2 : COMING SOON

this is shitty, really shitty in fact. Though, thank you very much for reading this. Part 2 will come soon, if i had some energy to write the readers mother personality without getting pissed off. But anyways, see y’all soon at part 2 <3

#diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact diluc #genshin impact diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact #genshin impact headcannons #genshin impact childe #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact tartaglia #diluc x y/n #diluc ragnvindr x y/n #genshin impact fanfic #diluc angst #diluc comfort/hurt #childe angst #childe comfort/hurt

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danielxricciardo · 3 years

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Can you do one with Max, with 46 and 55 from angst list?

Summary: You are suffering from depression and Max tries to be by your side

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of suicide, depression

Word count: 3.6k+

46. “I’ll leave, and the world will move on. I just wish I could see it. See how much better everything is when I’m gone.”

55. “You’re good at finding things. Find me a reason to stay.”

Depression feels like a lot of things.

It feels like sadness, which is what everyone will tell you. It's a pretty common thread.

"I'm worthless."

"Everyone thinks I'm a horrible burden."

So on and so forth.

Everyone in the world is happy but you, and in the end, you are a worthless piece of shit that doesn't belong in this otherwise glorious and happy place. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and you are lying there on your bed in the same unlaundered pair of pajamas, wondering why you are even allowed to keep living any longer. Some meteor strikes or lightning bolts should be reserved for people like you because you are taking up space and oxygen and food and other resources that real, happy, productive people need.

It feels like emptiness. You have all these possibilities and none of them seem interesting. You could do some art, or play some music, but that just doesn't feel right. There's no joy in it. You could have sex with your significant other, but you can't muster up the desire. You could play video games, or read a book. But what's the point? There's no real benefit to all of it but passing the time. You could get up and make lunch. But no, you're not that hungry, and if you close your eyes, time will pass a little faster. You can lie there. That works. It doesn't require active effort to do something fruitless. Everything is as empty and fruitless as lying and staring out your window at the clouds and the shifting shadows of tree branches, and so why do anything else?

It feels like fatigue. Standing up out of your bed requires the same amount of bodily effort as climbing several flights of stairs. Managing to get dressed and walk outside is like running a race. Heaven helps you if you try to go to the store or a friend's house -- that may as well be on the other side of the continent. Every step is heavy. Every muscle motion requires ten times the work it used to. Exercise becomes difficult, and control over your body expires quickly. You become clumsier, so heavy lifting is right out. You daze out randomly, daydreaming, even dozing, so biking or running is hard. You feel most at home when you are entirely relaxed, so you lie down...and don't get up again until something like your bladder compels you.

It feels like a loss of control. You have no idea why your brain and body are doing this. You don't want to feel sad. Nobody wants to feel shitty and tired and empty all the time. People will look at you and say, "It's like you don't want to get better." Those people are idiots. You truly, deeply, from the bottom of your soul, have no idea why this has happened or what to do. It's not logical. It makes no sense. You woke up like this, or it crept in overtime or something like that. It's like a fog, a force of nature that sweeps in, occludes everything, and there's not one thing you can do about it from where you stand. Trying feels like taking a paper fan outside and trying to blow away the morning mist. Someone has tied puppet strings to your brain and is playing this hideous dance with it, and you don't have the scissors to cut them away. The dance doesn't make sense; it's arbitrary and rhythmless. If you had any sort of reasoning behind it, you could take control. But you don't.

It feels like desperation. You can't find a way out. You lie there at night, keening into your pillow like a wounded animal, making all sorts of noises that no human being should be able to make. You claw and scratch at the sheets, or at yourself, as the pain wrings itself out through bodily expression. The tears won't stop. You don't know why. All you know is that it hurts, it really and truly hurts, and you think if it goes on any longer, you're going to die. Right there. Bleed out on the floor. So you grab up your phone, and you call someone at 4 AM, and you beg them to please just make it stop. You bury yourself in books and movies because at least then you can imagine something else than yourself. You read nonstop. You have to have your fix. It's like an addiction, no, more like a life support machine. Otherworlds, fantasies of happiness, and real experiences that aren't your horrible existence become the iron lung keeping air flowing in and out. You are alive because you can stop thinking for a while. Your friends come over to comfort you. Their stories keep you sane and well, like dialysis for all the toxins in you. Your mind has failed at being independent, and now it relies on a thousand little machines to keep itself running. You rely on one machine until another comes to save you. You read books until your friends come by. You stretch out your time with friends until you have to bury yourself in a movie again just to keep the thought of real-life away.

It feels like untamed anger. Your friends can't keep this up forever. You fall further and further, and you eventually start dropping commitments. You have become That Person, the flake that everyone knows will back out. People start getting annoyed at you, annoyed at how they have to spend so much time just keeping you afloat, annoyed at how often you're causing them trouble by constantly disappearing and backing out of appointments, and so on. Your workplace gets annoyed at your lack of productivity. And then you can't take it anymore, and you want to scream at them, grab them by the throat and shake them because IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT! You start having twisted fantasies, the ones where you walk up to that person who keeps telling you he can't do this anymore, you're just too unreliable, putting a gun to your head and pulling the trigger. Just to make him know, for once, that FUCK HIM, your problems are REAL, DAMMIT, REAL, and he better FUCKING RESPECT that. And when you're gone, he'll fall to his knees and cry, and he'll say, he wishes he had understood, that he didn't mean to be so unkind, and the scar on his heart from his own failure will remain fresh and knotted for eternity. And then you shake yourself out of the daydream, and you wonder why you have turned into such a horrible person, someone who even considers ending their own life just to spite another human being. Then it creeps back in, the knowledge that the world is getting fed up with you...and the cycle begins again. You start thriving off these daydreams, because at the very least if you can't be happy, you can throw caution to the wind and get the petty, oddly satisfying revenge buried under all those layers of morality that are becoming worn and flaking away. It's just a fantasy, right? And it helps pass the time...

It feels like forever. You have forgotten what it's like to truly be joyful. You can imagine it, but it's not really you in those thoughts. This is who you are. This is your life. This is you.

It feels like you have only one thing truly under your power: your existence. You cannot choose what life throws at you. Your brain and body have betrayed you. Your friends have worn away, and you've fled from your job and any commitments you have.

It feels empowering. You can jump whenever you want.

But he accepted you the way you are. He never reproached you for negatively influencing his mentality or life, even though you knew he felt it too. He always listened to you, he was with you even at 2 in the morning when you were crying on the bathroom floor with your knees to your chest, and you knew it wasn't right. It wasn't right for him to go through, basically, what you were going through. But no matter how much you told him you could do it without his help, Max was coming back more insistently than ever.

He came up with the idea to start therapy. "You have to find out why you feel this way. Go at least once, see how it is, if you don't like it or feel that it doesn't help you, you will give up, okay?" That was a year and a half ago.

The psychologist gave you a diagnosis from the first session: Major Depressive Disorder. Sure you knew what the three words meant, but you didn't know what it meant to have a label on your condition.

"A major depressive disorder is characterized by one or more of these depressive episodes. the diagnosis of major depressive disorder requires depressed mood or anhedonia which is the loss of interest in pleasure and five or more signs or symptoms for the SIGECAPS mnemonic for a 2-week period. (SIGECAPS) Sleep Disturbance, loss of Interest, feeling Guilty, feeling fatigued and low in Energy, having decreased Concentration, decreased or increased Appetite and been agitated and slow and having Suicidal ideation."

It sounds incredible to you. Suicidal thoughts? Not everyone has a thought, somewhere, behind their mind 'What if I disappeared?'

You were prescribed Prozac and Zoloft and it helped. You weren't always sad anymore, you could go to the races with Max and support him as a normal girlfriend does. You apologized to my friends who tried to help me and whose lives you made impossible and you managed to get back to work, from home anyway. Sure, you still had moments when you felt like you weren't 100% yourself but not like before. You did therapy twice a week and the psychologist was happy with your evolution.

But being the stupid ass that you are, you stopped taking the medication. You took the last pill on Friday. Because you were fine. You felt ok, everyone around you told you you were better, you were doing amazing, so you were cured, right? Or so you thought. Saturday was normal. Sunday was not. Your mood and energy were very low. You woke up at like 2 in the afternoon. That is not unusual for you. You’re used to it. You were sad. You were exhausted. You knew that feeling like this was “no excuse” so you tried to force yourself to do it anyway. Typical of your life. You feel like you had already taken so much off work because of the triple-header, you were for three weeks attached to the hips with Max.

The only thing you thought of was dying. And that terrified you. And Max senses something was wrong. But he didn't want to tell something and ending up being wrong and you being upset by his misinterpretation. But, yes, he sensed that you were becoming your old self.

"Hey, babe," he snapped you out of your daydreaming. A tragic one, where you were finally at peace and Max was crying for you. You were on the verge of crying yourself at the mere image of Max in your head. But you pushed it far from your mind, somewhere in a dark corner for you to find it at an appropriate time to fantasize about your dying. "How about we go to a picnic? It's sunny outside."

Yes, the wheater was amazing. It was finally summer and you could go outside and spend some time with Max. But your brain literally is tricking you into thinking you don't deserve to enjoy the sunny day. Why? You don't have an answer.

"I'm not really in the mood, Max. Sorry."

You are not in the mood. That was his affirmation. You are not ok.

"You feeling good?"

"Yeah. Just tired I guess."

"But you just woke up."

You shrugged. He was right. You just woke up, so why do you feel like you were carrying a ton of bricks on your shoulders? You couldn't walk. You almost felt like 18 months ago. And that is when it hit you. And Max, at the same time.

"Still taking your meds, I hope."

Silence. Your mind was like overcrowded and you couldn’t take it anymore. You grabbed your head and pulled your hair because you wanted it to stop. You were thinking that you didn’t know what to think. You didn’t know how to think. You didn’t know how you felt. You were like anxious-depressed-angry-miserable-irritable all in one. Your head was spinning with thoughts. Thoughts were talking over thoughts. So fast that you couldn’t even make out one complete sentence. It was just too much for you to handle. You just wanted someone to kill you.

Max came to you and he hugged you so hard you thought he could crush your bones right there and then. You calmed down eventually. But now you were embarrassed. Because Max saw you, again, at your lowest. Because you promised you'll get better, and for a while, you were better, but now you are fucked and back into square one. All those money on therapy and your pills, for what? For you to stop taking them because you thought you were feeling better? Well, you definitely were not ok, nor you'll be. So, yeah, being fucked sounded good.

Max brought you the medicine and a glass of water. Taking the pills again? For what? The pills only fuel the feeling that everything is fine and that you are a normal person. Nothing was good and you were not a normal person.

But you took the pills. And you looked Max in the eyes and you wanted to die. He seemed crushed. He was sad, devastated, maybe angry but definitely disappointed. In you. Because maybe you don't realize this, but while you were doing good, he was doing great. He knew you could be on your own so he stopped worrying that much, and that could also be seen in his driving. He was winning more races, he was at his best and now he was at his lowest. Because you were at your lowest; co-dependency and shit.

"I'm sorry, baby. I thought I was doing well enough to stop taking the meds," you say in a broken voice but the tears are yet to appear. He stroked your hair and kissed you on your forehead.

"You should have told me. You don't have to go thru this alone. I am here."

"Yeah, you are here. But you don't have to be!" you snapped. Irritability, one thing your depression came with. "I am just a burden for you. And no, this does not come from the fact I stopped taking my pills. You took care of me like I was a child, and, fuck it, you don't deserve this."

"Stop talking like this, alright? If I would suffer from depression you would have done the same thing. You would have taken care of me. Or am I wrong?"

"You are not wrong. To be honest, I don't think I would be here if it wasn't for you, but I don't want you to be. It's obvious that I would never get better. This is me. I am fucked in the head, half wishing I was dead and I am just bringing you down."

"Don't tell me this is a fucking break up, Y/N." he narrows his brows and looks at your features to make sure you were being serious.

“I’ll leave, and the world will move on. I just wish I could see it. See how much better everything is when I’m gone.”

"What the fuck are you talking about? Is this a break-up or a suicidal vocal note?"

You broke down. Crying can be cathartic and healthy, but if it goes on too long it can lock your body in a feeling of despair. Even if your mind works through the problem that caused the crying, because your body is still feeling the physical effects it will cause your mind to revert to the negative state. It's not sadness. It's dread and paralysis. You had a certain feeling of emptiness and purposelessness.

“You’re good at finding things. Find me a reason to stay,” you say between sobs.

"You want me to find you a reason to stay alive or to stay in this relationship? To be frank, I can name a thousand reasons, but it all depends on you."

Max hugs you from behind and you lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat that was stronger than ever. You allowed yourself to inhale Max's scent, a soothing scent you could get drunk on.

"I want to believe you love me. I mean, I love you and I consider you the love of my life, you know? We are so young and I know it doesn't feel like it, but I promise you, I'm gonna marry you someday, even if right now you don't think you're gonna make it till tomorrow. So, yeah, this is reason number one," he said and pressed a kiss to your cheek. "This is not the worst you have been through in life. Remember where you were 18 months ago; you had no idea what was wrong with you. Now you know and you know you can be better. I know you get sick of those pills, but maybe, in the future, you won't need them. Isn't that exciting? This was reason number two," he said and pressed another kiss to your cheek. He was going to do that every time he would give you a reason. "Have you been to all the beautiful places around the world? Sure, you came to a few Grand Prix, but you never saw Great Ocean Road in Australia, you know Daniel promised he would take us there someday. You never saw Pamukkale in Turkey or Japan in Cherry Blossom season or the Blue Lagoon in Iceland. There are many places you need to visit, baby. So, yeah, this was reason number three. I don't know if you want me to continue but I can give you one more reason. Reason number four. Do it for you, baby. You deserve to live and be happy. I know you can be happy and I promise you I will do my best to help you. You just have to take it one step at a time. You just have to let me in. Let me help you, baby."

You turn around, facing him now. You loved him, with all of your heart. You love him for who he is. You love him because he literally came into your life as your lifeline. You love him because he helped you crawl up the deep bottomless abyss of depression. You love him because he had the patience and the audacity to bear with your depression, anxiety, and panic attacks, your phobias, your mood swings, your temperamental and short-tempered nature, your overthinking, your being overprotectiveness, and possessiveness. You love him because never once he thought of giving up on you in your hard times. You love him because he stands by you like a rock of unwavering support and he’s someone you can fall back on. You love him because he listens to you talking non-stop about your past, your pains, your fears, and your losses without complaining even once. You love him because he rediscovered you and helped you find yourself again when you were lost in darkness. You love him because he filled you with confidence and hope and strength and belief and determination. You love him because he believes you are the best when you set your mind on something and no one can stop you from achieving your goals. You love him because he is protective, caring, understanding, loving, and easy to be with while never being too suffocating or taking up your space. You love him because sooner or later he does everything you ask of him and does with his whole attention. You love him because whatever endeavor he engages in, he likes to give his 100% and hates doing half-hearted things. You love him because he can decode the nuances in your voice and judge your mood just perfectly. You love him because he read you like an open book and he can hear your silence. You love him because he never doubts your loyalty, your intentions, your hard work, and your million issues. You love him because no matter how busy he might get he never forgets that you are waiting for his message or his call. You love him because he keeps you in his priorities. You love him because he gave you a passion you never knew you had. You love him because he very strongly believes that you deserve the best of everything. You love him because he is empathic, kind, magnanimous, thoughtful, and down to Earth. You love him because he has eyes for no one but you. You love him because he wants to see you healthy, wealthy, prosperous, famous and he wants you to hold back at nothing, for no one, he wants you to be a Go-Getter. And most importantly you love him because no one ever loved you like he did.

"I will let you in," you say and you kiss him hard. "I'm sorry for the scene I caused."

"Don't be. It happens."

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen oneshot #max verstappen #f1 fanfiction #f1 oneshot #f1 one shot #f1 2021 #f1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one oneshot #formula one imagine #formula 1 oneshot #formula one #formula 1 #red bull racing

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heejojo · 3 years

Text

Love Isn't Beautiful But With You It Was

✰ summary: y/n and niki's journey from being enemies to friends to much more than that.

✰ pairing: Niki x fem!reader (and a Jay apperance)

✰ genre: fluff, angst, enemies to childhood friends to lovers

✰ warning: a few sad scenes but I'm not sure they'll be too bad! death

✰ word count: 1.8k (the most so far tbh)

a/n: this is my first fanfic so please leave comments about what should be improved. if you have any requests feel free to leave them! it's past 12am now and I need to sleep but I hope you have a nice day!

prompt gotten from @moonlight-chi77 thank you!

“Love isn’t beautiful but with you it was”

Life disappears in the blink of an eye, but the memories created and the human connection formed does not. The memories created are embedded in our hearts and follow us through different paths of life. Whether those memories are good or bad, they become something we reflect on in later moments.

Nishimura Riki couldn’t exactly remember the first time he met you but all he knew was that he had never hit off with someone the way he did with you.

September 2012

Although Niki couldn't pinpoint the exact date you guys started talking, he knew it was in September of 2012. He knew at first he disliked you and wanted nothing to do with you because you had stolen his spot on the swings.

“That's my spot, I told Jay I was going to stay here forever,” he said while his friend who was behind him nodded enthusiastically, backing him up.

“Your name is not on it and you didn’t buy it so why should I leave?” you asked him without coming down because you got there fair and square.

“I called dibs on it,” he said while puffing out his chest.

“Dibs are for babies,” you say while continuing to swing. “I’m not a baby,” he retorts.

“If you say so, then why are you wearing a Talking Tom T-Shirt?” you ask and his face begins to turn red. “It's cool, isn't it Jay?” he nudges his friend asking him for support. “Cool man, girls just suck” Jay responds and they both leave. “At least I dress myself!” you yell at their retreating figures

After that day, Niki made it his mission to disturb you every day and never wore his Talking Tom shirt again after that day.

August 2016

“Niki!!” you screamed as you felt another water balloon hit your leg. At this point, your entire body was soaked. The young boy continued to laugh and run as you chased him. You were beginning to regret spending your summer break with him when you could be watching TV instead. Eventually, you give up chasing the blond-haired boy and go into the house to dry off. Thirty minutes later, Niki comes in with a bottle of orange juice as a form of apology. You snatch it without further thought and drink it. Looking up at him after you finish drinking it, you both burst into a fit of laughter. “You’re lucky I love food,” you say. Maybe spending the summer with him wouldn't be so bad.

December 2018

Your crush on Niki was painfully obvious to everyone but him. Your friends teased you, his friends teased you yet when you were together you denied it with so much vigour. Niki had liked you for a few months now. Everyone was enjoying the slow burn that was going on between the two of you; the soft glances across the room, the way you always looked for each other among crowds, the way he knew where your secret birthmark was even though your close friends didn’t.

It was the way you complimented each other that made everyone cringe and aw at the same time. The jacket you got him for his birthday was his most prized piece of clothing and the only person he let touch it was his mum. This year though, you gathered enough courage and told him how he meant to you and how you were content with being just friends even if it hurt a little. But you weren’t expecting Niki to say he felt the same way, even more so. Your friends heaved a sigh of relief and choruses of ‘Finally’ were echoed.

It felt good being with someone.

January 2019

Everyone argued with people they loved right? Your parents did, the old lady that sells fruit and her boyfriend did so you and Niki weren’t an exception. After being childhood friends for so long you’d think you could trust each other enough to talk about the things that bothered you but he refused to, claiming that he didn’t want you to see him in a different light and how it would hurt his pride. You would tell him that no one knew him more and cared about him the way you did. At times, you’d let it go not wanting to push him but that day you couldn’t take it.

“We need to talk. Why have you been avoiding me these past few days?” you asked him.

“I’ve just been busy” he replied.

“No, you’ve been avoiding me. I know you well enough to know when you're hiding something” you said.

He wouldn't budge, he never did especially when you cornered him like this. He started to get irritated and said, “I said I’ve been busy so forgive me if I can’t give you attention all the time. Not all of us are as clingy as you” You winced; it was your fault for pushing him to the edge like that. Nevertheless, you wouldn't give up. “ I just want you to say how you feel and what bothers you. I’d never look at you in a different light and you know that. You might want to be strong but it’s okay to show some sort of emotion, it doesn’t make you weak rather it makes you look like someone that acknowledges what is wrong and doesn’t try to ignore the problem or solve it on their own” you comforted him. As the words entered his ears, you could see the walls surrounding his heart crumbling. “It’s okay to ask for help or just to rant to someone. Even if we won’t be able to provide an immediate solution, it should help” you added taking a few steps forward and grabbing a hold of his hands. You squeezed them tightly.

“I...I’m just scared you’ll leave once you see the not so perfect side of me” he managed to say. “I will stay with you, why don’t we make the best of everything without worrying about the future?” you asked while smiling. He returned it and pulled you in for a hug. “Thank you, truly,” he said and you smiled under his embrace.

After a few minutes you spoke up, “Oh yeah, Niki?” you called his attention and he hummed in response. “Don’t ever shout at me like that again, I can deck you and you know it” you said.

“Got it, boss. Sorry for being a jerk”

June 2020

You usually went on diets and exercised a lot but you were losing weight at an extreme rate and you weren’t even on a diet. Niki was worried but you brushed it off telling him it was stress from school but it got worse. You found it difficult for you to balance yourself, you felt nauseated, getting even more frequent headaches and being tired all the time so Niki decided that enough was enough and took you to the hospital. Neither of you had expected the result of the scans that were run.

“I’m sorry but there is a tumour in your brain,” the doctor said. The air left your lungs. “You can choose to get the surgery and live in the hospital for 8 months or live with the tumour for 3 months” he continued. You thanked him and left the hospital. The elephant in the room was very much alive and neither one of you wanted to address it. Did you want to stay in the hospital for the rest of your life or did you want to say with your loved ones? You thought that they would go through and that won’t be worth it.

“Niki” you called out.

He looked at you with a sad smile and just pulled you in for a hug, careful not to hurt you. “Do you want to tell your parents?” You nodded. You couldn’t just leave without saying anything. Picking your jacket, Niki drove you to your parents house.

“I just wanted you guys to know, I couldn’t just leave without saying anything,” you said with your eyes cast downwards. You couldn’t bear to look at your mom who was already crying or your dad who was blaming himself even when it wasn’t his fault or your sister who was basically your best friend. Niki had given you guys privacy but you knew it was just an excuse for him to be with his own feelings.

“I’m going to stay close to home in the meantime so I can be closer to you guys,” you said. Your eyes were already becoming glossy with tears. You inched towards your mom, taking her hand in yours and said, “You did an amazing job of being my mom and I love you so much”. Moving to your dad, you said “You did a good job of protecting me so don’t think otherwise. Let’s make all the memories we want to now without any regrets”. At that, your sister burst into tears “I… I can’t bear to lose you” Your heart clenched. “I can’t bear to lose you too” She continued crying. Your mom wiped her eyes and said, “From today, live the way you want to. Eat what you want and do what you want.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Niki staring watching the whole scene. After an hour, I stood up and went home with Niki. The car ride was a long and awkward one. When we got home, we just slept hugging each other.

Starting tomorrow I was going to live.

July 2020

The pain is getting worse but the smiles on my family and friends faces are enough to keep me going. I wrote letters and got gifts for them. Niki looks at the calendar every day, I can’t tell him to stop because I can tell he’s hurting so much. Why can’t I just be okay for everyone?

August 2020

The time comes faster, Niki and I went on a getaway for a few days. He deserved a break from everything that has been going on.

September 2020

I never thought I'd die as silly as that sounds. I asked my parents and sister to leave when I got to the hospital. Niki refused to leave and stayed there till I took in my last breath. He kept crying begging me not to go and how he’d do anything.

“Does it hurt a lot?” he asked between sniffles

“No it doesn’t, it just feels like a needle” it hurt like a truck.

“Liar”

I chuckled and held his hand till I couldn’t anymore. “I love you’’ I say as the lights fade.

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

Dear Nishimura Riki,

When you see this, it means I’m already gone. First of all, don’t beat yourself up too much. I could write for ages about how much I love you but now that I need to, my mind goes blank. You’ve done so well for putting up with me, hats off to you. You might not want to but move on, even though id like you to remember me; let your heart heal and be happy.

Take care of yourself and don’t skip any meals. Eat well and be happy, make sure you visit the places we never got to visit and enjoy yourself. Live life the way you want it every day. Be nice to people and smile more.

Thank you for all the happy memories, my love, I’ll be forever grateful for you. You made my life colourful and worth living.

Love isn’t beautiful but with you it was.

Yours truly,

Y/N.

#enhypen #enhypen angst #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #character death #enhypen fluff

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uvobreakmylegs · 3 years

Text

Hypnagogia

Warnings: kidnapping, graphic depictions of violence, death

The years of harsh training that he had received since he was a child ensured that Illumi could never fall into a truly deep sleep. It was something all of the Zoldyck children had learned, to be aware of their surroundings even while resting. Falling asleep completely would leave him vulnerable to a potential attack. Vulnerability was weakness, and when one came from a family of assassins who were open about their occupation, one could not afford weakness; one needed to be ready for any potential enemies that were competent enough to get past the mountain gate and the host of butlers in their employ.

So even as Illumi slept with you curled up by his side in bed, there was still a part of him that was awake and taking note of everything.

The sound of your steady breathing.

The way the moving air made the curtains flutter against each other.

The noises of the wildlife that came alive at night in the woods beyond the mansion.

Even the distant sounds of the servants in the hallways as they worked through the night.

At one point you shifted in your sleep, turning over so that you faced him, your hand grasping the fabric of his nightshirt and resting on his chest. He tightened his grip around you, holding you close while still staying asleep.

Things were as they should be.

When you woke up some time later he didn't react. Nor did he react when you sat up, pulling away from him as you left the bed. This was unusual, but not unusual enough to rouse himself from sleep to confront you. You got upset when he demanded an explanation for your every action, even if he had good reason to do so.

Your reason for leaving the bed appeared to be an innocent one as he heard your soft footsteps make their way to the bathroom, the door slowly closing shut as you tried not to make a lot of noise.

Illumi continued to sleep while waiting patiently for you, anticipating the feeling of your warm body against his when you would return and fall asleep next to him again.

The sounds of the toilet flushing and the running water from the sink echoed against the porcelain surfaces in the bathroom. You would be back soon, and Illumi would be content to have you in his arms again.

He waited for you.

And waited.

…....

…. Something wasn't right.

That feeling woke him fully, his black eyes opening as he sat up in bed, looking towards the bathroom door. The light from the bathroom still shone beneath the door, but he could sense that you were no longer in there.

He had made his way over to the door in a matter of seconds, throwing it open to find exactly what he had been expecting: an empty bathroom and you nowhere in sight.

A small window near the ceiling caught his attention. It was wide open, and though it was a fairly high off of the tiled floor and the ground outside, it wouldn't have been impossible for you to have gotten out that way.

Illumi let out a small sigh as he turned and made his way to one of the side doors within his wing of the house that lead to the outside. No need to risk one of the butlers seeing him and then reporting this incident back to his parents. He had no desire for another lecture from his mother on training you “properly.”

You'd been doing so well recently, and you hadn't tried to escape in months. He had truly thought you had given up on the idea and that you had accepted your role as his wife.

Once he caught you it would be back to training again, and he would take however long he needed to drill it into you that there were no other options: you were his, and your place was here on Kukuroo Mountain.

The wildlife in the forest grew silent as he left the mansion and began his descent down the mountainside. It was easy to spot where nature had been disturbed: small branches that had snapped and clumps of dirt that had been kicked up leaving him a trail to follow. He couldn't help but muse on how the results of your training were showing through. Though the trail was there, it was less obvious than the ones you had left on your previous escape attempts. You were more aware of your surroundings and knew better on how to leave with virtually no trace behind. He would have been proud of you if not for the circumstances. Why couldn't you put these skills to use for the sake of him and his family?

He continued down the mountain, following your path. He had yet to come across you at all, and his brows furrowed the longer he continued. Your skills had grown since you had come here, but he knew from experience that you could not outrun him. He should have found you by now. So why hadn't he?

Had you somehow tricked him?

Did you make this path as a decoy while you attempted to leave down another side of the mountain?

It was certainly possible that you would have known you wouldn't be able to surpass him physically and had attempted to outwit him to buy yourself enough time. If this was the case, he would need to make sure that the lessons he taught after capturing you would stay with you so you would never try this again.

Illumi was about to head back up the mountain to see where he had gone wrong in following you when he noticed something in a particular patch of soft dirt. Multiple sets of footprints heading down the mountain, none of which could have belonged to you.

More tricks? Perhaps accomplices of yours? Or.....?

Illumi sprinted past, descending the mountain as he searched for you, still following the path that he now realized may not have been left by you. There were possibilities in his mind as to what had happened, but it was better now to ignore them and focus on finding you.

He was almost at the base of the mountain when he spotted something.

Three black-clad figures in one of the lower gardens, two women and a man. And there you were, unceremoniously slung over the man's shoulder as the three of them ran. It was clear you were unconscious.

The three sensed him then, stopping beneath a pristine gazebo as they turned to face him. The terror was evident in their stiff forms when their eyes landed on him. Getting caught wasn't something they had accounted for. Perhaps they would have gotten away if it had been literally anyone other than a member of the Zoldyck family hunting them down.

Your limbs hung limply as the man held you, only swaying lightly when he pulled out a sword and pointed it at Illumi, the women with him following suit.

All the while Illumi stood there, silently assessing the situation before he came to a conclusion.

“Were you trying to kidnap my wife?”

The three tensed at the question, their auras flaring as they anticipated an attack. Illumi remained relaxed, even cocking his head to the side slightly as he asked “am I correct?”

After a bit of hesitation, the man nodded.

Illumi couldn't help the smile that formed (which only served to put the intruders more on edge).

“That's a relief,” he said, sighing, “I was worried she was trying to get away again. I'm glad that wasn't the case this time.”

“You.... You're glad we tried to take her?” one of the women asked.

As quickly as it had come, the smile on Illumi's face faded away, his aura flaring and engulfing the three of them.

“Of course not,” he said, his tone far more grave now.

“The fact that people like you would even think of touching her is unacceptable.”

The intruders were skilled enough, and had enough sense to know that an attack from him was imminent. As Illumi burst forward, needles in hand, the man threw you to the woman at the back, yelling at her to run. The other woman was too slow in raising her sword to block Illumi's first strike and a needle entered her skull and burst out through the other side, lodging itself in the stone pillar of the gazebo as she fell to the ground dead.

The man fared only a bit better, managing to block the needle thrown at him and running forward to swing his sword in an attempt to take Illumi's head. It was easily dodged, and Illumi threw four more needles at him, three of which hit their marks and leaving the man to join his fallen companion.

The last one hadn't gotten far, the other two having only been able to buy her mere seconds before Illumi turned his attention to her. She was carrying you on her back, effectively using you as a body shield as you obscured her vitals. There were a few ways in which he could strike the needle through you to kill her and only leave you with minor damage, but he rejected them. These people weren't worth making you go through any sort of pain.

He sent six needles flying towards her legs, embedding themselves from the back of her knee down to her ankle with three on each leg and making her cry out as she fell forward. She lost her grip on you and you fell to the side of her, the terrain making you roll away slightly. The woman was still trying to fight, but her attempts to pull out any weapons she could use to throw at him were quashed when he threw two more of his needles, these one stabbing through her wrists. She cried out as the nen in his needles worked through her, intentionally causing her pain.

But at the moment she wasn't important. Illumi brought his attention back to you, walking to where you lay and kneeling to examine you. There was minimal damage to you, some scrapes along your arms and legs where the branches in the forest had brushed against you. The worst of it was at the base of you neck where a bruise was beginning to form, the size and shape of the mark a clear indicator that this was where they had hit you to knock you out. Aside from that, you appeared to be fine, and Illumi allowed himself another small smile as he picked up your fallen form and held you bridal style.

The woman was now attempting to crawl away, her hands and feet tearing up the grass of the garden while the needles impaired her movement. The last of the intruders was taken care of with a flick of his wrist and a needle in the back of her skull.

His walk back up to the family home was brisk, and instead of heading for the side door to his quarters as he had originally intended, he went towards the main entrance instead. Even from his current position he could sense the activity from the mansion; someone had noticed that something had been amiss and had raised the alarm. Better to go in through the front and order whatever servants were there to clean up the bodies he had left in the gardens. That way he could have you back in the safety of his room that much faster.

What he hadn't expected was to see Silva standing at the mansion's entrance, Tsubone and Amane standing a few feet behind him. Silva glanced down at your unconscious form in Illumi's arms, a single brow raising.

“What is it this time?” he asked as Illumi made his way inside.

“Nothing that was her fault.”

A look of mild surprise settled on his face as Illumi continued “intruders found their way up here and tried to make off with her.”

“Did you find out how they got in?”

“They weren't talking.”

“Hmm.”

Silva sounded as though he didn't believe Illumi on that last part, but he made no move to stop him as his eldest son walked back to his wing of the house. Even if Silva (rightfully) believed that Illumi had made no effort to get any information from the intruders, there was little to be done about it now.

“Tell mother that her favorite garden is largely intact,” Illumi called back.

His father made another noise of disapproval, but ultimately decided to drop the matter.

“Tsubone,” Illumi heard Silva say.

“Yes, master Silva.”

“Get those bodies off of my mountain.”

Illumi tuned out whatever words were said next. As far as he was concerned, the matter no longer involved him. His focus was now on you and your well-being. From looking over you earlier, he knew that physically, you'd be fine. The slight injuries you had received would be gone in no time, but he was going to keep you by his side as much as possible for the next few days. He would just need to make it clear that this time it wasn't being done as a punishment. As he had said to his father, you weren't at fault for anything that had happened tonight. The most that could be blamed on you was the fact that you had been captured so easily, but that was a fault that was also on him; that he somehow hadn't been able to sense the presence of those intruders when they snatched you from the bathroom. There was room for improvement for both of you, and Illumi was content to work towards that as long as you were by his side.

After closing the window in the bathroom and changing you into clean nightclothes, Illumi pulled you back under the covers with him, arranging you so your head was resting against his chest while he wrapped his arms around you again. He was sleeping again shortly after.

If anyone was to walk in on the two of you, they wouldn't have suspected that the events of the last hour had happened at all.

When you awoke next Illumi woke with you, and he watched as you reached for the back of your neck, lightly touching the tender spot where you'd been hit.

“I-Illumi?” you asked, trying to find his face in the dark.

“Yes?”

“Did.... Did something happen?”

“You don't remember?”

You shook your head.

“You were attacked by intruders who tried to take you from me,” Illumi explained, “I chased them down and took you back.”

“Ah. I see,” you said, resting your head back down on his chest. You didn't bother asking what had happened to the intruders; the answer was easy enough to figure out.

The conversation seemed as though it had ended, and Illumi was waiting for you to go back to sleep before he did so himself. Outside in the mansion, the activity he had sensed on his way back up had died down as well. Tonight's little disturbance had ended, and everyone was more than willing to move past it.

“Illumi?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” you said, “sorry for getting caught.”

Illumi's eyes widened slightly at your words. He wasn't sure what exactly he had expected from you, but it wasn't that.

“I would be a terrible husband if I abandoned my wife so easily.”

You hummed in response, closing your eyes as you settled yourself on top of him. Illumi watched silently, repeating your words in his head and mulling them over. Before you could go back to sleep again, he got your attention by speaking your name.

“Do you love me?” he asked when you looked back to him.

“...... Yeah.”

It had taken a few seconds too long for you to reply, and the answer itself was not wholly satisfying. He had been hoping for a straightforward “yes”. Certainly by now he had proved that he cared for you.

Nothing more was said between you two, and you finally fell back into your slumber. As Illumi fell back to sleep himself, he reminded himself that you had thanked him unprompted, and had even apologized for your shortcomings. The matter of you loving him was unsatisfactory, but something was going right for your relationship. It was merely something else that could be worked on when the morning came.

As you fell back into your deep sleep state, that part of Illumi that always stayed awake remained aware of everything about you. The sound of your breathing as it stayed in a steady pattern, the feel of your weight against him, and the way you would shift in your sleep, at times attempting to pull away from him. Every time that happened, he would pull you back to him. Even asleep, he would make sure to keep you by his side always.

#reader insert #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere hxh

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Note

I have another prompt for you! Do with it ehat you want. It rested way too long in my "Ideas I never use" box:

"I don't even care about my own life, why would I care about yours? I am a fucking pheonix, my dear, death is just like an insect to me – It stings, but has no lasting effect"

(maybe it's fitted for a Fey!Jaskier? Or Ageless!Jaskier? Or a Villain?)

Ohhh I love that prompt! Thank you!! <3 (shame on me, i left out the word 'fucking' bc it didn't fit the vibe of the fic. Hope it's still ok)

I again have no idea what I'm doing, but where would be the fun in knowing what's going on in my own writing XD

word count: 4884

content warnings: brief mention of blood, brief mention of injury, temporary character death (for about two seconds), burning alive (kind of)

There was something in this forest that didn’t belong here.

Hasty steps disturbed the birds’ songs and heavy panting cut through the illusion of safety that lay over this land like a fog.

The girl running through the woods threw a glance over her shoulder, a haunted expression on her face. Her feet caught on a protruding root and with a cry that pierced the air like an arrow, she fell onto her hands and knees.

Her scream carried on, long after she had closed her lips again. The echo started out as a whisper, then it grew louder and louder, became a symphony of fear and desperation. The sound of one who was truly lost.

Then again, all who found this forest were lost in one way or another.

And though they might not realise it, no one was ever truly alone in these woods.

Inhuman blue eyes watched from the shadows of the underbrush as the girl curled in on herself, lying on the forest floor in a heap of helplessness.

With slow steps that fell onto the earth silently as a sigh, Dandelion took off their cloak of shadow and approached the lost girl in front of them. As they came closer, they lightly hummed a melody, a soft lullaby made of wishes and dreams.

Slowly, the girl’s shuddering breaths evened out and some of that tension that held her in a vice-like grip, eased out of her shoulders.

“Child,” Dandelion spoke softly, in a voice that was bird song and trees swaying in the wind.

The girl looked up. For a moment, she didn’t seem to comprehend what was kneeling before her. Then, within the blink of an eye, she scrambled backwards, terror etched onto her face.

“You don’t need to fear me,” Dandelion said softly, holding their hands up.

“Why should I believe you?” The girl’s hands wandered across the forest floor until the closed around a branch lying next to her. Though fear twisted her face, she held the branch in front of her like a sword.

Dandelion cocked their head to the side, a smile flickering over their face. This girl was brave. Most lost people were, but there was something about her…something other. Something elder.

“You can believe me, because I can’t lie.”

“You’re not human.” The girl’s gaze wandered over Dandelion. They could nearly feel how her eyes raked over his claws that were just a little too sharp to pass as human, over their blonde locks that nearly had the colour of the flower they had named themselves after; the name yet another fruitless attempt to become more than they were. They were so close to being human. Still, despite centuries searching, they hadn’t found the right them yet. Not in this life and not in any that had come before.

“I am not,” they admitted and the words tasted like ash on their tongue. Always ash. Always fire and ambers. And yet, nothing more than a small sting that would pass when the life engulfed them in another embrace. Another chance.

“Then what are you?”

Dandelion lowered themselves to the ground, until they were at eye level with the girl. Carefully, they reached out their hand, an offer, an invitation.

“I am a Home for the Lost. Another Chance.”

“I am not lost!” The girl sprang to her feet without warning, gripping the branch tighter. “I know where I’m going. I’m…I’m looking for someone.”

“And someone’s looking for you, I assume?”

The girl bit her lip while her eyes darted to the side again, scanning the trees as if whoever she was running from could jump out and attack her at any moment.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Dandelion repeated. “You can be lost here for as long as you need to be.”

“What if I don’t want to be lost?”

Dandelion gave her a smile that they knew couldn’t reach their eyes. “Then I can keep you safe until you’re found again.”

“But you’re not him. The one who’s supposed to protect me.” The girl’s breath hitched. “Are you? You’re not Geralt of Rivia.”

Dandelion drew in a deep breath, tasting the name on their tongue as they inhaled. Their eyes fluttered close as the power of the name surged through them.

“I’m not,” Dandelion agreed. It wasn’t a lie. And yet, they felt a part of Geralt of Rivia’s being taking root within him. His name was theirs. His winding path, his doubts, his destiny. His losses. “But he will come here. I promise you that.”

“How can you? Have you seen him in these woods? I didn’t know he was in Brokilon forest.”

“This isn’t Brokilon forest. It stopped being that when I found you. And it doesn’t matter where Geralt of Rivia is. Not yet.” A breeze ruffled through the trees, whispering its secrets to its master. “He will be here. All woods lead here, when you go deep enough. When you get lost enough.”

If there was one certainty that pulsed through the name like a heartbeat, it was that Geralt of Rivia was lost, more than anyone Dandelion knew of. Except, of course, for the one person that Dandelion didn’t have the power to guide back to their right path. The one person who was given chance after chance after chance for a new start and yet never found their way out of the maze they were trapped in.

“He will come.” Their promise tasted like lightning and the soothing melody of a bubbling river. “You will be his second chance. Until then, let me be yours. I will keep you safe.”

The girl hesitated a moment longer. Then, she dropped the branch and flung herself into Dandelion’s arms, desperate not to be lost again.

Dandelion’s held her tightly, rapped his shadowy cloak around her and whispered soothingly into her hair. The embrace was like the feeling of when the fire stopped. At least that was how Dandelion imagined it must feel, when there were no flames coursing through their veins.

But they couldn’t truly know. After all, everyone was in this forest was lost in one way or another.

‘The girl in the woods will be with you always’

Renfri’s words echoed in Geralt’s mind as he limped onwards through the trees, ignoring the worried calls of the man who had taken him with him on his cart.

Geralt couldn’t waste a single moment longer by staying with him and his wife. His child surprise was out there somewhere, waiting for him. And Geralt…Geralt didn’t know what to do. He had to find her, had to make sure she was safe.

Yet he had no way of knowing where she even was, or if she was still alive. It was a miracle Geralt himself wasn’t dead yet.

You can be lost here.

Geralt’s head snapped up, his eyes darting across the trees sharply.

“Who’s there?” He called out. A mistake he wouldn’t have done if his mind had been clear and not muddled by ghoul poison.

For a long moment, there was no reply. Ever so slowly, Geralt tore his eyes from the darkness that lurked behind the trees. That’s when a different echo reached him.

Not Geralt of Rivia.

This voice sounded younger. Child-like.

“Ciri.” The name was but a breath on his lips, but he knew it in his heart to be true. Somehow, this voice was Ciri’s.

His staggering steps got faster, until he nearly ran. Geralt didn’t care about how the movement tore at his wound, how twigs whipped into his face, how his breath became shallow as black spots danced before his eyes.

He was urged onwards by the unbending certainty that Ciri was near, that he would finally find her.

People linked by destiny would always find each other.

But there was something else as well. A wildfire in his chest, a strand of shadow tugging him onward.

Geralt of Rivia.

The echo of his name rang through the woods, through the air and the inside of his head. Two voices. Ciri’s – and another one. A voice that sent shivers down Geralt’s spine.

The repeat of his name turned into a melody. A lullaby. A siren’s call.

Every instinct in him screamed to turn back, to get himself to safety. But instincts had been beaten out of him a long time ago.

His instinct had told him that his mother would take care of him.

His instinct had told him that he was loved.

His instinct had told him that there was nothing he could lose by calling upon the law of surprise.

But, oh, how he had lost. His mother, the woman he had thought he had loved, the certainty that he could keep walking the path that had been his only guidance since Vesemir had taken him to Kaer Morhen.

Geralt had lost, again and again, until he had become lost himself.

His chest became tight and he had to squeeze his eyes shut against the pressure building behind his eyes.

He was lost.

And yet he had no choice but to keep going. A haunting lullaby and his name on the wind forbid him from turning back.

He tried to orient himself on the rays of sun shining through the canopy of too-green leaves. Desperate to reach a path or a person that would make him not-lost again, Geralt ran until his breath turned into pants and his muscles protested. Witchers didn’t tire so easily. If need be, Geralt could fight for hours, stay up for days. Yet, no matter how much his body ached and protested, claiming it had been hours, days, weeks, the sun remained in his spot, never moving, as if no time was passing.

Geralt’s lungs were burning and the pain in his leg flared up with every step, until there were no more steps to take.

His knees gave out from under him and he collapsed, falling to his hands and knees onto the grass, the blades of which looked sharp as a sword but felt soft beneath his hands. Like a pillow to lay down on. Like an embrace. Like a home.

Witchers had no home. They only had the path, and yet, looking at this strange forest with its whispers and stagnant sun, Geralt had not even this.

“I am lost,” He called out, an act of pure desperation that never before had he allowed himself to admit to. His voice was raspy and scratched at his throat like shards of glass. As if he hadn’t uttered a single word for weeks.

Lost.

The haunting reply came in his own voice. A chill raced down Geralt’s spine and his fingers fisted into the grass, desperate to cling to something.

“I don’t know the way.”

Away.

An unshakable fear seized Geralt. He didn’t care how his voice broke, how his body was already broken.

“I need help.”

Witchers didn’t need help. They didn’t beg. And if they ever did, their pleas would go unheard.

Not so Geralt’s.

Something snapped to his right. He winced, his hand instinctively reaching for his silver sword. The medallion on his chest vibrated furiously.

He pushed himself to his feet, trembling with the effort, but unwilling to be on his knees like a condemned man waiting for his executioner.

The snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves stopped for a moment, a quiet laugh that sounded like water tumbling over rocks replaced the sounds.

“I found you.”

Geralt stiffened. It was the same voice as the first whisper he had heard – the voice that had lured him here. Only this time, it wasn’t a whisper on the wind. It was very real and far too close for comfort.

Witchers didn’t receive help. Whatever had answered his call must have darker intentions.

“Show yourself!” Geralt demanded, gripping his sword tighter.

For a moment, everything went still. No more whispers, no lullaby, not even the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Then, the bushes to Geralt’s right parted and someone stepped through. No, not someone. Something.

The creature in front of him looked how someone who had only ever seen a human’s shadow might imagine a human to look like. The being walking towards him was taller than any human could be, towering over Geralt. Their limbs were too long.

When their lips parted for a smile, the rows of teeth in them were sharp as a wolf’s.

“What are you?” The question left Geralt before he could think better of it.

The being cocked their head to the side curiously, too-blue eyes wandering over Geralt’s body, as if they didn’t even notice the sword pointed at them.

“I’m the Second Chance,” the being said, their eyes flashing with something Geralt didn’t dare name. “Yours, if you want me to be.”

“Who else’s second chance are you?” The question didn’t make sense, but Geralt had no control over his tongue. There was something about this creature – person? – that urged him to say things he didn’t understand. It was as if deep down, he already knew the answer, as if a part of him had known this person for a long time.

The being didn’t reply, but they raised their hands to their side and brushed lovingly over something. The air flickered in front of Geralt’s eyes, making him nauseous and dizzy, yet when he tried to look closer, he could only see shadow behind the creature. Until they flicked a hand behind them and the shadows parted, revealing a smaller figure. A girl with blonde hair that stared at Geralt with big green eyes.

Geralt sucked in a sharp breath.

It was Ciri. The one who had been lost to him.

And she was standing behind a creature powerful enough to lure even a witcher in. A creature who now placed a clawed hand on Ciri’s shoulder – the shoulder of the girl Geralt was sworn to protect.

“Let her go.” The demand left Geralt’s lips like a beast’s snarl.

“Go?” The being’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I made a promise to keep her with me. I don’t let any lost soul go.”

Their eyes bore into Geralt’s, searching through his soul, laying bare everything he was.

A boy, lost and abandoned by his mother.

A man who had lost a fight with the woman he thought he had loved – losing the fight, losing her, losing what he had been so sure had been love.

A human, who had lost his humanity.

Geralt, who was nothing but lost.

And there in front of him stood a creature who kept lost souls. The being sucked in a deep breath, closing their eyes as if they could taste all of Geralt’s losses.

They would keep him. Him and Ciri, damned forever to wander this cursed forest in which time stood still and echoes whispered into his heart.

He couldn’t let that come to pass. Not for Ciri.

Geralt knew his life was lost as well, even as he swung his sword. It didn’t matter. He had to save Ciri, had to get her out of this creature’s grasp.

There was a cry when his blade pierced the being’s chest. Was it his own cry or Ciri’s? Was the whole forest screaming as its master fell to their knees? There was only one voice who didn’t join the cry of agony. One, who was deadly silent, as life drained from it.

Blue eyes shot open, staring at the blade buried in the being’s chest with curiosity that quickly turned into resignation. For but a heartbeat, fear flickered in the being’s expression.

Fire blazed in those blue eyes. Fire poured forth from the wound instead of blood. Fire came to life in the being’s hair, searing the dandelion-yellow strands and racing over their body until all that was left of them was dancing flames.

Geralt watched in horror, as the flesh turned to ash before his very eyes. No, not ash. Dandelion seeds.

The wind picked up, tearing at Geralt’s hair, pushing him away, making the dandelion seeds tumble through the air in a wild dance.

Leaves tore from the trees, yellow flower petals, bits and pieces of the forest. All was dancing through the air, forming shapes and breaking apart again. The grass that had been so soft a moment before, shot up, grew faster and higher than any plant could, forming the shape of legs, of a torso, of a head. And still the leaves whirled through the air, obscuring the sight to the body that formed right in front of Geralt’s eyes.

A pit opened in Geralt’s stomach and the realisation of what this meant crashed into him with the force of a cockatrice slamming into its prey.

The being wasn’t dead. But it was only a matter of time before Geralt was, dying at the hand of the creature he couldn’t kill.

Geralt’s sword slipped out of his limp grasp, landing on the ground with a soft thud.

Geralt followed a moment after, his knees hitting the ground once more. This time, his executioner wouldn’t hesitate.

Geralt couldn’t protect his child surprise. Not in the years to come. But there was one thing he could do in this moment, one last act of desperation to save a life that he had always been meant to guard with his own.

“I make you a bargain!” Geralt’s voice got drowned in the howling of the wind, and yet, the ever-changing shape of the being turned towards him. Geralt’s throat went dry, his chest tightening. “My life for hers.” Through the whirlwind of leaves and blossoms, Geralt met Ciri’s gaze. Her eyes were wide and terrified. She was his to save. “Take my life and give the girl back hers. Let her go.”

Geralt bowed his head, awaiting judgement. For failing Ciri. For failing Vesemir and not being able to kill this creature. For failing himself. For losing, just when he had finally found the girl he had been looking for.

The wind didn’t falter, yet it changed course. The petals drew closer together, reaching towards Geralt like a hand.

A soft touch brushed his chin, tilting his head upwards, forcing him to look at the swirling shapes before him.

Though the being had no lips yet, their voice was clear and crushingly loud, coming from all around him. Every tree, every blade of grass, the very air spoke with the being’s voice. “Oh, but I don’t even care about my own life, why would I care about yours?”

Despite the roaring volume, the voice was achingly soft, like sweet nothings whispered in Geralt’s ear. The petals brushed Geralt’s cheek like a lover’s caress.

Geralt’s heart pounded in his chest, like a drum, growing faster each second, it’s rhythm dictated by the song that made this creature be.

“There must be something – how can a life be meaningless to you?” Geralt’s voice broke and his eyes flickered over to Ciri again. The child he hadn’t wanted. The life he had tried to push as far from his path as he could.

A sharp sound pierced the air, reverberating in Geralt’s bones. Only when it cut off abruptly, did Geralt recognise it. A laugh, devoid of life or joy.

“I am a phoenix, my dear.” The endearment cut into Geralt, broke him apart, made him wish that he could be more – that he could be found. “Death is just an insect to me – it stings, but has no lasting effect.”

“Liar.” The rasped out word cut through the symphony of sound.

Within the blink of an eye, everything around him stilled. The wind was still moving the petals and leaves. The being’s shape was still changing, and yet, there was no sound. Nothing, but Geralt’s own heartbeat and his blood rushing in his ears.

Then-

“What did you call me?”

It was only a single voice, within Geralt’s mind. A helpless desperation clung to it. A hunger.

“I called you a liar.”

“I cannot lie.”

Geralt’s jaw clenched and he forced himself to stare up at the swirling shape.

“Then you are a fool, if you truly believe your own words.” His hands trembled and he had to clench them into fists. Each word he spoke, dug his own grave deeper and yet, he couldn’t stop. It was as if there was something tying him to this creature, something telling him that he could know them, just as he was certain the creature knew him. “If death is like the sting of an insect to you, then it is more than just a passing irritation. Adults still remember when they had been stung by a bee as a child. Warriors flinch back from wasps, even knowing the stinging will pass. Gnat’s bites will itch for weeks.”

“Pretty words for a man who had first used his sword before attempting to speak. Yet the cut of your words hurts me as little as your sword did.” The caress of the petals left Geralt and he nearly found himself following their receding touch. “I do not care for my death, nor do I for my life.”

“Then why am I still alive? If life and death doesn’t matter to you, then why did you not just end mine?”

Unless…

I don’t even care about my own life, why would I care about yours?

They had never said they didn’t care about Geralt’s life. It had been a question – unable to either be a lie or a truth.

The only life they didn’t care about was their own.

It didn’t make sense. And yet, as minutes, days, an eternity passed and the being still hadn’t taken on a new shape, a vessel for their new life, no doubt was left in Geralt’s mind.

“Then let me give you something else,” Geralt whispered, his mind racing. In the stories, the creatures entrapping children in their realm and bargaining for their lives only ever wanted one thing. “If you let her go, I will give you my name.”

Something changed in the air. An almost palpable tension pressed down on Geralt, making it hard to notice anything around him but the dancing petals.

“Oh, my White Wolf.” The name the being spoke wasn’t Geralt’s name, and yet Geralt felt a tugging in his chest, a soothing caress, a gentle promise. It felt like his. And it felt like the being’s. “I already have your name.”

“Then what do you want? What…” Geralt trailed off, only now noticing the hint of something heavy in the being’s voice. It had Geralt’s name. Yet, Geralt had no way of referring to the creature. He didn’t know them. Perhaps no one did. “Then I give you permission to tell me your name. You may let me get to know you. You may ask to not be…to not be lost without anyone knowing who you are.”

Yearning. Hope. Helplessness.

How a being without a form could make their emotions so apparent, was beyond Geralt, but there was no denying it. The air felt lighter, the grass brighter and the silence was replaced by a soft humming, not unlike the lullaby Geralt had heard earlier. The forest was pulsating like a heart, was living off of the being’s longing to be found.

“I can’t give you my name,” the being said. “I can’t ask of you to hear it. I don’t want you to know it. I care not for my life, nor any life I’ve lived before.”

Something rose in Geralt’s chest. A fluttering, a certainty.

People linked by destiny would always find each other. This wasn’t destiny. It wasn’t any outside force pushing them together. It was two people being lost, finding each other.

Two creatures, inhuman in their own way, feared by those who didn’t understand with no one to care enough about who they were. Neither of them had had a choice in who they wanted to become. Neither of them had chosen to be lost as they were.

The witcher, who’s name had been replaced by a hated moniker. People didn’t know him as Geralt. He was the Butcher of Blaviken.

And this being before him - this Second Chance? Who had they been? Who could they have been if they had the chance to start a life that wasn’t dictated by what they were meant to be?

“I can be your second chance,” Geralt prayed that he could be what he promised, knowing in his heart that he could. “If you won’t take my name and won’t tell me yours… I can give you a name. A new life that will be more than an itch left by an insect. More than the fear of that short sting that will end it.”

The yellow petals were back on Geralt’s face, cupping his cheeks almost reverently. In that moment, Geralt wasn’t a condemned man on the execution block anymore. He was a man on his knees, asking another being to start a new life, to bind them together in a way that felt utterly right for a reason Geralt couldn’t understand.

There was a plea in the silent touch.

“Tell it to me then.” The voice was quieter than it had been before, yet it felt more urgent than the loudest cry.

Geralt lifted his hand, laying it carefully onto the petals touching his cheeks. Yellow petals. Not tough like a dandelion forcing its way through stone paths, set on coming back to life again and again. No, these petals were different. Softer. Fragile.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, his voice laced with power he hadn’t known it could possess. Louder, he repeated, “Jaskier. I have found you. You are no longer lost.”

A tremble went through the forest. The wind stilled, but the petals didn’t fall to the ground. Instead, they finally settled on a shape.

The petals caressing Geralt’s cheeks were the first to turn, their touch becoming more solid, warmer, human.

Geralt pressed into the touch, holding the hand that formed in his. Dizziness swept over him as the form before him solidified. Green leaves turned brown as they did in autumn and turned into hair. Petals became red and gave shape to a mouth that was stretched into a radiant smile. Grass turned into fabric, dressing the person whose life was just beginning in an embroidered doublet. A tree bent down, its bark peeling off and turning into an instrument, that the person deftly caught in one hand, the other never straying from Geralt’s face.

Then, the human opened their eyes. Blue again but lacking the eerie otherness. And yet, they were brighter than before, so full of life and for once filled with anticipation of what this life would bring.

This life that Geralt had given them.

Before Geralt stood no longer a phoenix, a creature with no name. They were their own second chance. They were Jaskier.

Even as Ciri rushed from behind Jaskier and flung herself into Geralt’s arms, the witcher couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jaskier.

The new human looked at Ciri with a fond expression on their face, and yet there was a strain around their eyes.

When their gazes met, Jaskier’s lips tugged into a small smile.

“I guess I kept my promise then,” they said in a voice that held no power, but made Geralt’s heart skip a beat nonetheless. “I kept he safe until she was found.”

Geralt’s brows drew together. “You intended to let her go? Then why –“

“I didn’t bargain her life,” Jaskier said softly. “She was free to go whenever she pleased. I – I wasn’t. You gave me my life and I give it back to you. If you want it.”

Without thinking, Geralt shook his head and tightened his arms around Ciri.

“I don’t want your life. It is yours.”

“Oh.”

Jaskier’s lips moved silently, forming the word ‘mine’, as if testing it out for the first time. A smile lit up their face, making their eyes brighter.

“If my life is mine, does that mean, I can choose where I want to go?”

Something twisted in Geralt’s chest at those words. “You are.” Had Jaskier only ever known this forest? If so… “Do you know any place besides this? Will you…if you leave on your own, will you get lost again?”

A gleam entered Jaskier’s eyes and they slung the strap of their lute around their neck, their fingers finding the strings of their new lute.

“I won’t,” they said, their face set in conviction. “Because if I get to choose where I am going, I will be following you, Geralt of Rivia, my White Wolf.”

Unlike before, there was no power to the way Jaskier spoke his name.

“White Wolf?”

Jaskier’s lips twitched and he plucked a couple of chords experimentally. “You have me a new name. If you don’t want my life, the least I can do is return the favour and give you a new one two. A name, people won’t curse. One that will no longer belong to a lost man.”

No longer a Butcher. No longer a mutant, bastard, monster!

Slowly, Geralt nodded. “A life for a life, then.”

“A life for a life.” Jaskier’s expression softened. “A name for a name.”

Two lost people finding each other, silently promising each other to do everything in their power to not let the other get lost again.

#thank you for the prompt!!#fae!jaskier #fey!jaskier #*gestures vaguely*!Jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #creature!jaskier #fic #my writing #witcher #the witcher #witcher fic #prompt #ciri #geraskier #kinda #i have no idea what this is but it was fun to write

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Darker Shadows

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Azriel

Rating: PG-11/T-

Original Idea: Nothing in particular. Finished the first 4 books. Dunno if I can stand Nesta long enough to read ACOSF, so I wrote this with no information from ACOSF. Have fun.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) Whaaaaa...? I break my ongoing hiatus for this? Yep. I did. I hope a few more one-shots join this one, but I am making no promises. This one just came to me for about an hour so surprise! Happy August.

^^^^^

“Darker Shadows”

Azriel said nothing as he slipped through the door to our apartment, quiet and soft as the shadows surrounding him. I watched from the sitting room adjacent to the foyer. He must have known I was there—the shadows must have informed him—but he didn’t so much as look at me. Just rested his forehead on the door and sighed.

“Long day?” I asked.

He blinked his eyes open and turned. “Incredibly,” he replied.

I patted the sofa next to me, indicating he come sit.

Azriel’s shadows seemed to grow more numerous around him as he crossed to me. I realized why as his leathers thumped to the floor in his wake, leaving him in a light undershirt and undershorts.

No matter how long we lived together, he was always so modest.

Part of me wondered if it was more insecurity than modesty; but I would never invade his privacy that much to ask. He’d tell me when he was comfortable.

He hit the sofa cushion next to me hard. His wings barely missed getting caught behind him. Ever the precise, too. One arm and one wing wrapped over my shoulders. He was warm, even if his underclothes were cold from his sweat. I snuggled into his side. We both stared at the fire for a while.

“Did you eat up at the House?” I asked.

The shadows shrouding him retreated a little, going back to their usual shades. He glanced at me with those sharp hazel eyes before returning his gaze to the fire. “Yes. Rhys and Feyre were hosting a dinner for the Palace governors. A private celebration of rebuilding the city so quickly before the grand, public celebration in three days.”

I snorted. “Bet they loved that,” I said sarcastically. Among the family, it was well-known that Rhys and Feyre both hated formal parties and dinners with a fiery passion.

A glimmer of amusement joined the reflection of the flames in Azriel’s eyes. “Oh, they slipped out an hour in. I heard them in the library… having fun amongst the stacks. I left them to it and didn’t interrupt.”

I couldn’t stop the laughter that burst from my throat, but clamped it down hard to not disturb the neighbors.

Azriel held me tighter. “Would have been more enjoyable if you were there,” he said. His voice was soft, almost as though he didn’t actually want to admit it.

Reaching up, I cupped the side of his face. “Sorry I couldn’t go. I’d have liked to have been there.” I gestured to my wrapped leg. “I just don’t think I could handle a party today. If Rhysand had decided to host it three days from now with the rest of the celebrations, I would have been able to make it.” I made a face. “Sorry I missed it.”

“It’s alright. I understand.”

I reached around his wing to the end table, picking up my glass and handing it to him. He downed the rest and handed it back to me. I chuckled and set the glass on the coffee table instead.

After shuddering at the freezing chill of the water from my glass, Azriel turned to me. “How’s the pain?”

I shrugged. “Better than it was,” I said.

“At least you’re healing quickly.”

“Mmhmm.”

“How did you spend your night?”

I waved a vague hand to the small pile of books on the coffee table. “Just decided to read a little.”

“A little?” Azriel quoted. “You read five novels in four hours.”

“Oh, no. I didn’t finish them all. When I got bored I’d switch between them.”

“None of them holding your attention?”

“Not like they used to. Not since—”

The War with Hybern. Azriel knew. We all broke in some way over the course of it. I hadn’t had the attention span I used to since.

Azriel smiled at me. “Bathe, then bed?”

“Sounds great,” I replied.

He scooped me into his lap and stood up. I yelped at the sensation. My bad leg dangled looser than my good leg. My yelp earned me a twitched smile from my spymaster.

He carried me into the bathing room and sat me on the edge of the tub before turning it on. As it began to warm up and fill, he helped me unwrap my splint and undress. I returned the favor as best I could.

We bathed quickly and then got in our sleep clothes after drying off. After carrying me to bed, Azriel poked the point of my ear. “Goodnight,” he said softly.

I smiled, never able to contain my affection. “Sleep well,” I replied.

He doused the faelights and climbed under the covers.

We snuggled against each other. One of his wings draped over the both of us, keeping us warmer than the covers could. That warmth, his scent… it helped lull me to sleep. I could fall fast asleep on stone if Azriel was beside me.

—

Azriel watched his own scarred hand brush her nightshirt away from the skin of her back, revealing two sharp scars and an elaborate tattoo. Another rare Illyrian/High Fae hybrid, she’d been born with wings. Unlike Rhys, who could summon and desummon his wings at will, hers had been permanent.

Until her High Fae mother ordered her wings removed when she was still a child. Barely more than a toddler.

Azriel hadn’t met her until Rhys disappeared Under the Mountain. She’d been fifty-seven-years-old at the time. He’d seen her in the Rainbow, in one of the pottery studios, on a hot summer day. Her clothing revealed her back. The deep, disgustingly neat scars that made it clear how her wings had been taken from her, and the deep blue-black ink covering most of the exposed skin. She’d told him once she got it to both hide and show off the scars. When he’d asked why, she’d simply replied, “I’m stronger than the people who tried to hurt me.”

She hadn’t told him it was her mother—who’d wanted her to be a normal High Fae—for another decade.

He hadn’t been in love with her at the time. But during those fifty years everyone was stuck in Velaris, they became good friends. Azriel found her company much more peaceful than the other members of the Inner Circle. He loved them all—his family—but there was no harm, or shame, in being around someone who was quiet.

Then, a human girl broke Tamlin’s curse and Amarantha was dead. The High Lords and the members of their courts were released from Under the Mountain. And Rhys came home. And Azriel was both busier and freer than ever to spend time with his new friend.

He’d been so quietly pining for Morrigan for so long that, at first, he hadn’t realized the subject of his affections had changed.

During that final battle, when Prythian’s forces were spread so thin and even every reinforcement that came didn’t seem to make a dent… she’d taken a hit. A bad slash across the lower back.

And Azriel had seen red. His powers had already been mostly used up, his Siphons dim, and his wings badly injured.

But he’d gone to rescue her anyway.

His wings had screamed at him the entire flight back to a healer’s tent and then back to the battle. But during those moments, as she bled in his arms, he knew his feelings had transcended just friendship. “If we get out of this alive,” he’d said, “I’d like to treat you to dinner.”

She’d hummed, her side vibrating against his torso. “Mmm… dinner sounds nice. Afterwards, I can buy dessert.”

“We’ll see,” Azriel had said, smiling.

After they’d both healed and returned to Velaris, they’d done just that.

They’d been together ever since.

Azriel smiled at the memories.

—

“You’re staring,” I said quietly. His staring and touching had woken me.

“You’re incredible,” Azriel replied. “Have I told you that?”

“Today? No. This week? Many times.”

A soft chuckle. “So long as you know it.”

I rolled over so I was facing him. With his wing bent over both of us, I felt like I was in a sheet fort.

His eyes harbored a small glint in the half-light. I stared at him. “What is it?” His question was gentle.

I shrugged, feeling my scars pulling on my skin. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you,” he said.

“Charmer,” I teased.

That earned me a chuckle. Though his smile dropped after a moment. “Does it bother you?” He asked.

“What?”

“That you can’t fly?”

My humor disappeared. The phantom wings I still felt sometimes shivered in the back of my mind. “Sort of,” I replied. “I’d only barely taught myself how when Mother forced me to get them removed. It’s hard to miss what I didn’t really know. But I remember the wind over my scalp. My entire body fighting desperately to keep me aloft. I loved it. But now… now I get to fly with you and remember what it felt like. It’s not quite the same, but it’s enough for me.”

Azriel kissed my forehead. “Sorry I woke you,” he said.

“It’s okay. Any extra time I get to spend with you is worth it,” I replied with a smile.

#Azriel Shadowsinger #Azriel #Azriel Imagine #Azriel FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction #Darker Shadows

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Curse-breaker (Chapter 3/4)

- ao3 -

There were more guards than usual around the Unclean Realm, undoubtedly as a result of Wen Ruohan’s refusal to move from their gate, but that wasn’t a problem for them.

They knew all the ways in and out.

New ways, like the hole in the wall their little brother had teamed up with his best friend to carve out so that the two of them could leave little gifts and pass messages to them, and old ways, ancient ways, the ways of the dead that they’d learned from the still-lingering saber spirits that burned in rage and hate forever like an endless longevity candle.

Rage, and hated – but also love.

The saber spirits didn’t have to keep burning, keep fighting, but that was what their masters had wanted, and so they did. They fought against evil, time and time again, forever and always, and through their endless battle, in their hearts, their masters were never truly lost.

It was that simple.

It was that complicated.

It was time, they thought, to straighten things out. The saber spirits meant it as a gift, but the masters saw it as a burden; that wasn’t how it was meant to be at all – they just didn’t understand each other, steel and flesh speaking different tongues, meaning different things. The gaping chasm of understanding between life and not-life, which no one could bridge.

Well.

No one until them, anyway.

If a fish and a bird fell in love, where would they live?

On the shore, they thought. Right in the middle.

All they needed was someone to tell them that was an option.

It was time.

They passed like a formless spirit themselves through the many walls and guards in their path, heading to the sect leader’s study, as familiar to them as their own palms. Inside they found what was familiar, too: the heat-rage-pride pulse of Jiwei, resting in pride of place by her master’s side, and beside her was her master, their father, standing with his hands folded behind his back and looking out the window into the distance as if it would give him answers to questions that had eaten away at him his whole life.

They approached.

They were detected, of course.

“I already said that I didn’t want to be disturbed,” their father said, and although they had snuck close many times to hear him speaking, that beloved voice more familiar to them than their own, not daring to talk to him as they did to Huaisang who had always promised to keep their secret, there was still something different about hearing it so near, without walls between them.

They sighed happily.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said…Jiwei? What’s gotten you so excited –”

Their father turned.

His jaw dropped, eyes going wide and round as saucers, an absurd and silly look that suited him so much better than did the grim scowl and sad listlessness, interspersed with increasingly frequent bouts of uncontrollable rage, that he wore on his face more often than not these days.

What they had in mind would hurt, they knew, and equally they knew that they would not be able to act if they did not act fast – they were loathe to hurt people, much less people that they loved, and those that they loved would be equally unable to bear to see them hurt, yet both were necessary now, if they were to do what they had decided to do.

They did not allow themselves time to doubt.

They moved forward as quickly as a saber strike, sure and true, and their hands connected with their father’s chest and belly, heart and dantian both, with enough power to knock the breath out of him, taking advantage of his shock to strike when he would not even think of dodging.

In that moment of breathlessness, they latched on – latched on, and pulled.

What-are-you-doing-stop-that, Jiwei said, but even her ceaseless rage was blunted by the joy of seeing them once more.

You are hurting him.

I-am-not-I-am-refining-him-I-am-strengthening-him-as-he-strengthens-me-He-is-my-master-and-I-love-him.

You are hurting him, they insisted. Flesh is different. Flesh is brittle. Too much strength, and he will break.

Let me show you.

It hurt, of course, just as they’d expected. Not as much as when they’d shattered, though, and it was that – and perhaps only that – that allowed them to persist, using themselves as a cauldron, forcing their qi that was neither wholly spiritual nor resentful, neither fully alive or un-alive, through their father’s meridians, reshaping them as they went to be something capable of accepting the harsh, resentful, corrosive love of a saber spirit.

When they were done, their father stared at Jiwei, hearing her sing in his soul with an unprecedented clarity, feeling her love for him the way she meant for it to be felt, feeding his own love back to her in equal measure, giving everything of himself without holding back to the only thing on earth that he had ever loved without restraint.

His eyes were clear.

“A-Jue,” he whispered. “A-Jue…what is this?”

“A gift,” they said, their voice raspy with disuse. “Of many years making. I’m sorry that it took so long.”

Their father, unbreakable, burst into tears.

Later, when their father, his eyes still wet (though now from laughter rather than relief), told them about the ‘curse’, about his promise, about the rumors, and even about Wen Ruohan waiting for the chance to repent of his regrets, they thought about it for a while and said: “Let me see him.”

Wen Ruohan had done many things worthy of condemnation in his long life.

He had schemed and plotted, playing the hero and the villain both in their turn; he had fought in wars of such brutality that the current generation could not even begin to comprehend them, and he had also murdered in vile and underhanded ways, abandoning all integrity and righteousness, to ensure that such wars did not happen again. He had sought to strengthen himself by means both fair and foul, betrayed who he had to betray and stepped on who he had to step on; he had followed his ancestor’s path with his head held high until he had very nearly become a god.

He was not accustomed to regret.

Not accustomed did not mean immune: there were things he regretted, of course. The loss of his first family, the two sons and a daughter that he had failed so thoroughly that he still could not stand to hear the sound of their names, each one declared utterly taboo within the Nightless City – the wife he had married for power and then divorced in a fit of temper, driving her and her not-so-secret lover to the end of their rope in unspeakable desperation – the faithful servants he had sacrificed as pawns in his power plays and only afterwards realized how much he had relied upon them –

His brother.

His curse.

If by some miracle of fate he could choose to change a single thing in the ancient life that he had so far lived, it would unquestionably be the death of his brother.

Wen Ruohan had had quite a few brothers, in fact – his father, much like the usual style of leaders of the Wen sect, had fancied himself both empire-builder and emperor, and had had children accordingly, both his own and those he’d adopted, with all the headache-induing and often life-threatening dramatics associated with that – but to Wen Ruohan, there had only really ever been one that mattered.

Only one.

Wen Ruohan didn’t even remember any longer whether Wen Ruoyu had been his blood-related brother, sharing a father and maybe a mother, or if he’d been some child seized from another sect and given the Wen surname to help grow their power. It hadn’t mattered to him back then and it didn’t matter to him still, for all that he now prized his personal bloodline even above merit.

All that mattered was that Wen Ruohan had loved Wen Ruoyu more than he’d ever loved anything in his life, more than his sect, more than cultivation, more than power, and that Wen Ruoyu had died not knowing it. Had died cursing his name, spitting blood onto his face, fingers scrabbling at his neck in a futile attempt to choke him, wishing with his final breath that Wen Ruohan would never again know a single moment of peace.

Well, he hadn’t.

Ever the dutiful brother, he closed his eyes to nightmares, and woke to dreariness. He madly sought power enough to ensure that such a thing would never happen to him again, only for his obsessive quest to drive his few remaining loved ones into the grave; he had very nearly succeeded in becoming a god, and lost all interest in life in the process. The only joys remaining to him were his ever-growing power, his ever-expanding sect, and, sometimes, the blood and pain of other people, which he used as a reminder that he was not truly alone in this world.

And Lao Nie, of course.

Wen Ruohan had almost entirely succeeding in sealing off all of his emotions by the time Lao Nie showed up, smiling and carefree and reckless, half in love with the death he knew awaited him – showed up and battered down all of Wen Ruohan’s defenses. Wen Ruohan wished, now more than ever, that he had carried on in his attempts to make himself a true god, above all humanity, and not yielded to the siren call of friendship. Perhaps if he had been a god, he wouldn’t have been so hurt when Lao Nie barreled onwards with his life, leaving him behind not once but thrice – perhaps he wouldn’t have tried to kill him.

Perhaps he wouldn’t have nearly murdered the little boy that Lao Nie had on occasion shoved into his arms during a visit, no matter how many times Wen Ruohan reminded him that it was inappropriate – the little serious one who looked so bewildered by it all but who still called him Sect Leader Wen the way Wen Ruohan instructed rather than listening to his father’s not-quite-joking suggestions of ‘Uncle Wen’, the little crybaby that had all unknowingly once tricked Lan Qiren into a logical conundrum that had made the man’s mind splutter out like a machine falling all to bits while Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie had roared with laughter…the one that had been charming enough to make him change his mind and opt to keep little Wen Xu around instead of sending him out to be adopted into the branch families the way he had with the other children he’d refused to acknowledge, mourning as he still did his first family.

He hadn’t meant to hurt Nie Mingjue.

Not like that, anyway.

It’d taken some time for the regret to creep in – his initial bout of horror had been more shock and irritation at having hit the wrong target, the shame of making such an elementary error to hit a boy he hadn’t seen in years rather than the man standing right in front of him, and then he’d shrugged it off, thinking to himself that the loss of a son would be as good a way to punish Lao Nie as the loss of his life. It wasn’t until his spies in the Unclean Realm came back and described to him what he had wrought…

Nie Mingjue didn’t look anything like Wen Ruoyu, not really, but in Wen Ruohan’s dreams he wept tears of blood in just the same way, spitting up foam as his eyes rolled in his head, dying – dying – dead.

Not dead.

It wasn’t a curse, Wen Ruohan knew, but if there was something he could do – anything he could do – he would do it.

He had to.

“You have to let him go,” someone said, and Wen Ruohan looked up in surprise: he’d been waiting for half a day already and god or no god, his legs were numb with sitting.

He didn’t recognize the too-tall young man who stared down at him, one eyeball eerily colored red and steel grey – the young man’s clothing was non-descript and ill-fitting, mismatched as if he’d picked it off some laundry pile without thought of coordination. There was something of the Nie in his face, the breadth of his shoulders, but his features were finer and sharper, his waist more slender, his fingers lacking in the familiar calluses of the saber; he looked like he’d be a fierce war god when he’d grown into his body but that he hadn’t quite gotten there yet.

His golden core shone.

Wen Ruohan stared. His lust for power had long ago become an essential part of him, and in front of him was power, power at such a young age – if he could claim that cultivation for his own, maybe he could stop describing himself as nearly a god, could actually call down a heavenly tribulation and leap up to join the heavens in a single bound.

And then, maybe then, at last, he could have peace.

“You have to let him go,” the young man said a second time, and Wen Ruohan was distracted by wondering what he meant, not sure he understood and not entirely sure he cared. “That’s the only way. You have to let him go.”

He shifted forward, and something inside Wen Ruohan warned that he would strike.

It seemed ridiculous, though. Wen Ruohan, the finest living master of arrays, was not afraid of anything this young man might try to do – only a spiritual sword could pierce his armor, and even that, only one that took him utterly by surprise. No one would dare try to strike him.

Especially not this young man, who carried neither sword or saber.

Perhaps that was why Wen Ruohan never saw it coming – the young man’s hand moved in a jabbing motion, the way a sword would swing, and suddenly, impossibly, there was sword intent given physical form through spiritual energy, piecing through his defenses, slashing down at him and aiming right at his neck.

“Let me get this straight,” Lan Qiren said, rubbing his forehead. “Nie Mingjue reappeared after something like ten years out alone in the wild, and when he did he brought some sort of technique that just…fixed the Nie sect cultivation issue. The one that was killing you, and has been killing your ancestors for – generations.”

Lao Nie nodded.

“And then you allowed him to see Sect Leader Wen, who he attacked…in a way that happened to mimic some old tragedy that has apparently haunted him for years, thereby allowing him to resolve some long-held heart demon. And now Sect Leader Wen has retreated into seclusion in order to explore this moment of enlightenment further, and doesn’t intend to bother the rest of us for a while. Certainly not by continuing his schemes to take over the cultivation world.”

“That’s right,” Lao Nie said. “Though I don’t expect he’ll be in seclusion all that long; the Wen sect doesn’t practice –”

Lan Qiren held up a hand, indicating he wasn’t done and didn’t appreciate being interrupted.

Lao Nie obediently fell silent.

“And then,” and by now Lan Qiren was speaking through somewhat gritted teeth, “when Sect Leader Jin rushed over because he wanted to get in on what he perceived to be Wen Ruohan’s attempted takeover of the Qinghe Nie, your son attacked him, too – except in this case, he crippled him.”

“I did say anyone who trespassed would be killed on sight,” Lao Nie said, entirely unbothered. Because of course he wasn’t – why would anyone think that suddenly being freed of a lifetime’s death sentence would make him less reckless and shameless? If anything, his overwhelming joy had just made him even more arrogant and inclined to insist on getting his own way. “It’s been known for years, and no exceptions have ever been made, not even for sect leaders. Why should Jin Guangshan think himself different?”

“That’s a terrible excuse,” Lan Qiren scolded. “And besides the point.”

“What is the point?”

Lan Qiren opened his mouth, then stopped, thought it over, and sighed. “The point is, I suppose – are you going to the Jiang sect next?”

Lao Nie blinked. “The – Jiang sect? Why?”

“Because instead of the cultivation world breaking the ‘curse’ on your son, your son has apparently taken to breaking the curses of the cultivation world,” Lan Qiren said dryly. “And he’s already gotten four out of the five Great Sects, so why not complete the set?”

Lao Nie’s lips quirked. “Four? I can see the others: my Nie sect’s qi deviations, Wen Ruohan’s madness for power, the Jin sect’s terrible luck in getting that scheming old lecher selected as their next sect leader…but what did he do for the Lan sect?”

“It was in his name that you forced my brother out of seclusion all those years ago,” Lan Qiren pointed out. “And now I spend half of every year traveling wherever I wish, and the other half teaching; it is everything I would have wanted. Meanwhile, my brother has finally through his children learned what it means to care for others instead of rotting to death in a self-imposed grave built from ill-fated love…if that’s not curse-breaking, what is?”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #sect leader nie #wen ruohan #lan qiren #my fic #my fics #cursebreaker

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willowbleedsonpaper · 3 years

Text

Winter In The Shade I

Part I

Sirius Black x Ravenclaw Reader

W.C. : 2184

Requested by @amourtentiaa : It is Sirius' fifth year at Hogwarts, the same year he ran away from home and to the Potter's. Soon, he discovers the unfamiliar sight of his brother Regulus smiling and looking truly happy, next to him a Ravenclaw girl who immediately captures his interest. What will happen when the Black family gets involved in their sons lives and the ones they hold close to their hearts?

Warnings: None.

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Regulus Black. The boy who was always by himself. He never seemed to smile, never laughed, he never had something funny to say. He looked the way a living statue would, walking around the castle with a monotonous look on his face, a perfect appearance, and the most flat sound of voice. Was he even alive? Many had asked themselves as they watched him walk past them.

You were about to find out he was indeed alive and, even if he wouldn’t admit it himself, in much need of a friend.

It was late at night, several hours after dinner, when you found yourself walking to the library for the fourth time that week. You had an herbology essay to write and were in need of a lot of research if you expected a decent grade, for some reason the exact book you were looking for was always taken, and there was only one copy of said book. Just your luck! At that point you didn’t even stop to ask for the book, just walking to the shelf where you already knew the book was supposed to be.

“Damn it.” you grunted, running your hand over the spines of the books there as you reached the empty space where the book was supposed to be. You lowered your head in exasperation, starting to read over the rest of the titles there to see if one could be of any use. You tilted your head, reading the titles in low murmurs as you walked backwards. “Ouch!” you complained, your hand instantly shooting to the side of your head where the hard feeling of what you saw was a book hit you.

“Are you alright?” asked the boy with a slight furrow of his eyebrows, placing the book he held now on the table as he neared you.

You shook your head lightly, getting the pain out of your head as you gave the boy a soft smile “I’m just fine.” you sighed, running a hand through your face as your eyes landed on the table next to you “No way.” you muttered in surprise, grabbing the book by the table and holding it to his face “Did you just hit me with Flesh-Eating Trees of the World ?”

Baffled, the boy gave you a nod “I believe so.” he said, watching as a smile appeared on your face before he said “I’m… Sorry?”

“Don’t be.” you mused “You won’t be needing this anymore, would you?” you asked, the relieved look on your face as he shook his head making him even more confused but managing to bring the smallest of smiles over his features “Thanks Merlin, I've been looking for this book over four days now.”

“I just managed to get it this morning.” he told you, your mind finally snapping out of its thoughts and more on the boy next to you.

You tilted your head, looking up at him with a kind smile “Well thank you for hitting the side of my head, I really needed it.” you said “And the book, of course.” you chuckled “It’s Regulus, right? Regulus Black.”

He awaited for the inevitable Sirius’ younger brother or any kind or relation to his older brother, but when you said nothing and just stared at him waiting for his answer he limited himself to nod.

You offered your hand to him with a kind look “Y/N Y/L/N.” you introduced yourself, shaking his hand eagerly once he took hold of yours. “I should be going now, but it was really nice talking to you.” you said, grabbing your things and walking away from him. You took one last look at him, waving your hand with a smile as his head followed your movements until you were nowhere to be seen.

His hand felt tingly as if the energy from your person remained in his skin, leaving an almost warm feeling he couldn’t quite place but he found himself looking for even more. He wanted to know more about you.

*******

You spent day and night reading the book, your essay nowhere finished as you still struggled with some of the terms there. You furrowed your eyebrows, scratching the back of your head as you turn the page back “What in Merlin's name is that?” you muttered to yourself as you turned yet another page back, looking for the term you knew but didn’t remember the meaning of. Your eyes were focused over the pages, running your fingers along the lines as you took your quill and a stray piece of parchment, taking quick notes of all the information you needed to remember.

“Healing properties?” you read, writing it down as your face turned into one of disbelief “Don’t know about that one… Side effects, that’s more like it.” you mumbled, writing furiously, not even noticing the scrap of the chair against the floor as someone took the seat in front of you.

“Do you always comment on everything you're reading?”

You rolled your eyes, looking up to see who was disturbing you when your face fell and quickly turned into a surprised one “Regulus.” you breathed out with a smile “I didn’t see you there, How are you?” you asked genuinely, putting your quill down.

“I’m fine.” he said softly, motioning with his eyes to the little mess before you “Still writing the Herbology essay?”

You groaned, letting your head fall back “Sadly, yes.” you sighed “Don’t tell anyone but Herbology isn't my strong suit.”

“Then I won’t bother you any longer.” he said “Do you mind if I sit here?” he asked you and you shook your head, his eyes flashing with a glint you never thought you’d see in his eyes.

For hours, the two of you worked on silence. The ruffling of pages, quills clinking against the bottles of ink and your low murmurs as you read over and over the pages the only sounds that flowed in the air inside the small study bubble the two of you created. At times he would ask you questions, little things he didn’t quite understand and at last, you did the same.

“Regulus?” you called, the hum you got as a response making you continue “You already finished the essay, right?” you asked.

He lifted his eyes slowly, looking at you before he nodded “Yes.” he answered simply “Why?”

You took the book before you and slid it across the table, his eyebrows scrunched together as he followed your finger “Do you think you could explain this to me?” you asked, tapping the line in the book.

He broke into a small smile, nodding his head before he lifted his eyes and met yours “Only if you tell me one thing.” he said, making you curious.

“Alright.” you said doubtfully.

“How long have you been waiting to ask me that?” he asked and your jaw dropped before you could stop it.

“I-I…” you stuttered, the smile on his lips making you even more frustrated “Oh, shut it.” you grunted, fighting the smile that threatened to grow on your lips. But he raised an eyebrow as he returned to his own book, your smile finally breaking as you reached to take the book from him “Really?” you asked.

“You want your answers, I want mine.” he said calmly.

You playfully glared at him, squinting your eyes before you sighed “An hour.” you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

He let out a breathy chuckle, taking the book from your hand “How Ravenclaw of you.” he said under his breath.

You smirked at the comment, leaning down on the table to get a better look of the book as you said “Your one to talk.” you said with an amused look on your face “The Slytherin that had to embarrass me first to help me.”

You both laughed at your attitudes, the smiles now permanent on your faces as the playful bickering never ended. Not that day or any other, it became a habit for the two of you to meet at the same table to study, get homework done and read the entire library out of fun.

There wasn’t a day you didn’t see him, and people started to notice.

“I’m going to the library.” you said, getting up from the spot in the grass you sat at with your friends.

“Going to see Black, again?” One of your friends asked you, the murmurs that rose from all of them making you stop.

“I am.” you said, turning to face them with a daring look “You have a problem with that?” you asked.

“Not at all.” she said, taking a look at the others surrounding her “It’s just… well, he is weird, don’t you think? Always by himself, never talks to anyone. Besides he’s a Black, nothing good can come out of that one, I’ve heard stories….”

“So you do have a problem.” you interrupted her, crossing your arms over your chest firmly “Well, you can keep your stories. And I don’t care if he is always by himself, I really don’t see the problem with that, maybe I’ll start following his example.” you spat, turning in your heel as you started to walk away.

“Y/N!” they called after you “You know we don’t mean it like that.”

“Why do you insist on spending time with him?” one of them asked.

“Because he is my friend!” you yelled, turning one last time to see them “He is my friend and I like spending time with him.” You awaited for their replies, squinting your eyes as they just stared at you with wide eyes, or what you thought it was you until you followed their gaze over your shoulder “What?” you snapped, turning sharply to find none other than Regulus standing behind you.

“Regulus.” you breathed out, letting your shoulders relax as he locked eyes with you.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Just fine.” you muttered, taking his arm and linking it with yours “I was just leaving.”

Arms linked together, you walked the halls of Hogwarts in silence, the tension in your body only rising as he stayed silent. “Wait.” you said, letting go of him as you literally let your body fall to the floor, sitting in the middle of the empty hallway “I need a moment.”

Regulus limited himself to stare at you, sitting on the floor with a furious hand running through your hair. Next thing he knew he was sitting next to you, playing with his hands.

“What are you doing?” you said suddenly, raising your head with a questioning look on your face.

He squinted his eyes “Waiting for you?” he said doubtfully.

You were supposed to be angry, not with him, but you were angry. Then why were you laughing, Regulus asking himself the same question. It didn’t take long for him to start laughing with you. It was a sight to be seen: Both of you sitting in the middle of the hall laughing.

“I’m sorry about what they said.” you said, after you both had calmed down and had spent a few minutes in silence “I really don’t know if you heard anything but… well, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” he said “I don’t care what they say. It was what you answered that I cared about.” he admitted, reaching for your hand to give it a firm squeeze “You’re my only friend.”

You smiled at that, returning the squeeze with a chuckle “You’re my only friend too.” you said, thinking about all the things that you had done together, days spent only with the other, the small jokes and things only the two of you understood “Best friend, actually.”

“Best friend.” he repeated, with a smile.

*******

Sirius Black couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw it. One afternoon, running away from Professor Mcgonagall, he took a left turn that got him separated from his friends, the familiar laughter he thought belonged to them getting him to an empty hall.

He was about to call for James, running out of a hall only to duck his head and run back to where he couldn’t be seen, his back flat on the stone wall. He was too far away to hear the words coming out of their mouths, but that wasn’t what he was more shocked about. He listened carefully, not catching anything but the carefree sound of their voices.

He took a quick glance, watching as Regulus helped the girl to her feet, linking their arms together as they walked away, the blue scarf and Y/H/C the only thing he got from the girl next to him.

Sirius wandered the halls dumbfounded, his attention no longer on the present as a body collided against his chest, the only reason he wasn’t on the floor because James held onto his shoulders. “Pads!” James said cheerfully, his face falling as he got no response “Padfoot?” he asked “You alright?”

Sirius’ eyes met with the concerned look of his friend “I saw my brother.” he blurted out “He was smiling.”