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talesofesther · 8 months

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what once was mine | ch 1

Loki x Reader

Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: A long overdue mini-series for one of my favorite characters of all time. I had this idea when season one of Loki first came out, but never got to writing it, and now with season two coming, I decided to finally do it. There are two important things that need to be said before we head into it though; firstly and most importantly, I will not be following the show's plot at all, this story will only be focusing on the relationship between Loki and the reader, after all that's what it is about and I don't want it to be unnecessarily huge; secondly, this story will be mostly told in moments, which means that not every single scene happening between the characters will be written down in length. Lastly, I do hope you can all enjoy it. <3

Masterlist

Things felt worthless. Everything suddenly seemed unimportant. His whole life, everything he knew, felt small and frail. Because here, infinity stones were mere paperweights.

Loki scoffed as he pushed himself up from the floor, one hand coming up to tug at the collar still wrapped around his neck. This place made him feel as if his brain was melting, it was all too much, too sudden—sacred timeline, variants. A sense of utter helplessness started to weigh heavily in the pit of his stomach.

Yet he couldn't hold himself back from sitting at the single table in the middle of the dim-lit room. The checkered image of the Avengers right in front of him seemed to be taunting him.

This was still the same day, right?

Or maybe not, Loki wasn't certain anymore; it sure didn't feel like the same day.

For a split second, as he looked down at the red, round device resting on top of the table, he thought about how everything here looked so old-fashioned. It was almost ironic, for a place out of time.

Loki couldn't help himself. His curiosity got the best of him eventually. But if anyone had their whole life just a click away, they'd probably do the same.

So he watched, through glimpses passing on a screen, a life that was supposed to be his. He watched his mother die, and then his father; he watched as Thor called him a brother with a smile on his face again, and as they made earth a new home for Asgard. Loki's eyes were already a pool of tears as soon as his mother's lifeless body had appeared in front of him, they cascaded down his cheeks freely, leaving behind a damp path of a lifetime worth of mourning, now seen in less than a minute. The loss somehow felt greater, because now he wouldn't even have those moments to begin with.

But suddenly, amidst the moments of suffering and mistakes, an unfamiliar face appeared. She had a smile on her face most of the time, and even through the static of the image in front of him, Loki could clearly see the glint in her pupils, the crinkle beside her eyes. She was quite captivating, maybe that's why it took him a second to realize she was smiling at him.

A frown etched itself in Loki's eyebrows, he leaned forward on his chair as he pressed play again. Curiosity and... apprehension twirled wildly inside his stomach.

The moments with her were endless. Walks on the beach, shared ice creams, quiet nights watching a movie, dancing together in a dark kitchen, the golden rays of a sunset shining against her hair in a memory tucked away like a treasure; and even a moment of her talking with Tony Stark and the others, while her hand held tightly onto Loki's, the other Loki, that is. All of them looked futile, a simple existence Loki would never have considered fit for him; so why did these moments feel important?

Inside TVA's lonely room, Loki held his breath until his lungs ached. His heart was threatening to jump out of his chest and his eyes were stinging for a whole new reason. He could feel the shaking of his own hands. That look in her eyes, it was one of love, anyone who saw would know it. But the cause of the sudden lump in Loki's throat was the fact that this look was always directed at him. That love in her eyes, that smile on her lips; was for him.

Several minutes went by with him silently looking at the paused image of her on the checkered screen. A few stray tears rolled down his cheeks, and he wasn't sure why yet. If it was for the shock of learning that someone could love him this much; or because of the envy, the longing for something that wasn't even his, not really, he never got there after all.

There was a hole in his chest, a missing piece of something he never had. Loki didn't even know her name, yet a part of him was screaming it anyway.

He eventually moved on, and almost threw up when he watched Thanos take his life from him. Loki watched his brother cry over his lifeless body, yet he wasn't seeing her.

And despite the boatload of information thrown at him, the questions clouding his mind were only; who is she? Where is she?

Lost. Loki felt more lost than he probably ever did in his entire life. He had just watched what was supposed to be the rest of his life, yet... it wouldn't be. So what now?

He sat down on the small stairs of the room, burying his head in his hands.

And then there was this girl; smiling and laughing and holding his hand as if he had been the best thing to ever happen to her. This feeling, warm and heavy, squeezing Loki's heart, was a foreign one—he couldn't quite place why that look of pure adoration in her eyes was directed at him.

He needed to know who she was. He needed to find her and ask her why. He needed to know what she was, or- would be to him.

The sudden sound of the door opening startled Loki, he watched as Mobius walked into the room, his steps overly cautious. "Loki? Nowhere left to run."

Gulping back a sob clawing its way through his throat, Loki took a deep breath. He slowly glanced up, voice calm and defeated as he asked a question he already knew the answer to; "I can't go back, can I?"

Mobius simply looked at him, his eyes holding some kind of sympathy as he spared Loki from hearing the truth out loud.

Loki pursed his lips, his gaze slowly trailed back to the screen on his left that again adorned a paused image of the mysterious girl. Her lips were turned up just slightly, dark sunglasses covered her eyes, and she held a slowly melting ice cream in one of her hands. "Who is she?" he asked quietly.

Placing his weapon on the table, Mobius let out a long sigh, "I was hoping you wouldn't ask about her."

The words made Loki snap his head towards him, a frown coming to his eyebrows immediately.

"She..." Mobius hesitated, "she is someone almost as annoying as you."

"That doesn't answer my question." Loki nearly sounded offended. He got up then, taking slow steps towards Mobius. "She seemed... important, yet I don't know who she is."

"I'm afraid you haven't met her yet."

"Then tell me who she is."

Mobius grimaced; "I don't think it's my place to say it."

"That's absurd," Loki scoffed, "it's my life we're talking about here."

"How about we help each other then, hm?" Mobius offered, and when Loki only frowned at him, he continued; "a fugitive Variant has been killing our Minutemen."

Loki narrowed his eyes. "And you need the God of Mischief to help you stop him?"

A small smirk came to Mobius' lips; "That's right. You help us stop him. I get you an opportunity to meet her and you can ask her whatever questions you want to know."

A meeting with someone didn't feel like much for his end of the bargain, but that same voice inside Loki was still screaming a name he didn't know how to spell. He had to know.

"Deal."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 2 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Loki’s taglist:@milkiane @v1ci0us

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki #marvel #loki series #loki x you #marvel x reader #loki x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #what once was mine #loki fanfic #my story #loki laufeyson x reader

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navybrat817 · 3 months

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Wish, Hope, Dream

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You thought a night would be long enough to clear your head, but a bit of doubt lingers in your mind. Word Count: Over 2.6k Warnings: Slight angst, insecurities, longing, Natasha and Sharon being both good friends and devil's advocates, ongoing AU, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) Previous Part of AU: We Don't Talk Anymore A/N: More Dreamboat and Butterfly from my Reconnect AU! Sorry again in advance, lovelies. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought having answers would give you peace and allow you to rest before facing Bucky in the morning. Oh, how wrong you were. The tussle between your mind and heart didn’t stop, giving you one of the worst nights of sleep that you could remember in a long time. At least your pillow had dried from your tears.

And what was it that you were crying for? Relief that Bucky had feelings for you or were you mourning the lost time you could’ve had together had you two talked sooner? Perhaps both.

“Just get up,” you mumbled, willing yourself to get out of bed and lay out a random sundress to wear.

You wondered if anyone else was awake as you showered and brushed your teeth. Guilt crept in for skipping out on game night. Whatever transpired between you and Bucky, you couldn't let any of those feelings bleed into the rest of the time with your friends. You had to suck it up no matter the outcome.

Glancing down the hall as you left your room, your gaze lingered on Bucky’s door before your footsteps moved in that direction. You raised your hand to knock, wanting to check on him and make sure he got enough sleep. Part of you was tempted to sneak in and crawl into bed with him. Not even completely for sex, which you did not need to think about, but to have him hold you close and assure you that everything would be okay.

And to stop torturing yourself.

But you let your hand fall. You didn't want to assume that he wanted to see you first thing upon waking up. Assumptions and not communicating were what led you on this path to begin with. But you didn't want to smother him.

We can still figure it out together.

You crept downstairs, spotting a few empty bottles from the night before. The main floor was dark, minus the sunlight coming in through the windows and the kitchen. You stayed quiet when you saw Natasha and Sharon huddled together in a hushed conversation by the counter.

Which stopped the moment you walked into the room.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that they were talking about you. Not with the concerned look in Sharon’s eyes. Natasha, on the other hand, stared back at you in contemplation. At least it wasn't pity. You couldn't take that.

Did Bucky tell them? Or did they figure it out?

“Hey. Sorry for skipping game night,” you said, shifting on your feet as your gaze flickered between them. “Guess Steve and Sam aren't up yet?” You asked, purposely not mentioning Bucky.

“Don’t need to apologize,” Sharon said, concern continuing to show in her eyes. “I think they’re getting a run in.”

“Oh. Gotcha,” you said. Looking between them again, you hoped things wouldn't be this awkward for the rest of the week. “Am I interrupting? I can just grab breakfast when you two are done.”

“Not interrupting. Go sit in the living room,” Natasha urged, nodding toward the direction of the couch. “Look like you could use a pick-me-up.”

“Smoothie?” You guessed, glancing around at the array of fruit ready for blending.

“Oh, yeah. Better than coffee,” the redhead teased as she threw a few pieces into the blender with some ice, bringing a small smile to your face as you went back to the living room. She was a good friend.

All of them were.

“You okay?” Sharon asked, sitting beside you on the couch.

You hesitated for a moment. You adored them and always would. But when it came to Bucky, you feared everyone would always side with him over you. Your chest tightened at the thought that if things went south you’d get left behind.

And hadn't you been left behind once before?

“Yes and no,” you answered, not wanting to expand completely yet as Natasha walked in and handed you a glass, your hands gripping it tight. They didn't need to deal with your issues, did they? “Did Bucky talk to everyone? I’m guessing he said something since you two are looking at me like I'm going to break.”

“We don’t think you’re going to break, but you look on edge,” Natasha answered, taking a seat when you didn't disagree. “The guys talked to him a little bit. He wouldn't give them all the details, but we know you two had a long overdue chat.”

“And the way you bolted upstairs last night and how he looked like a kicked puppy, we guessed it didn't go well,” Sharon added, raising an eyebrow. “I think Nat wanted to kick his ass.”

“He looked like he kicked his own ass. Would've just been rubbing salt in an open wound if I did anything else,” she said with no trace of humor. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It may help,” Sharon said.

Maybe.

With a deep breath, you told the girls what had happened. How you and Bucky admitted that you had feelings for each other, which neither of them appeared surprised by in the least, but that you walked away from him once the talk was over. How you wished you would’ve given him a chance then and there, but didn’t. It helped and hurt to tell them about it.

You hung your head by the time you finished, your throat tight. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, swallowing a little. “This is supposed to be a fun trip and I’m messing it up with my issues.”

Sharon rubbed your back as you took a sip of your smoothie. “Hey. You’re our friend. You didn't do anything wrong or mess anything up, okay? We all love Bucky, but he's an idiot.”

“Huge idiot. Don't know what you see in him,” Natasha winked as you scoffed. You would always try to see the good in him, even when you were upset. “But I have to say, I’m glad you two finally told each other how you feel.”

“Took you long enough,” the blonde teased halfheartedly. “Kind of hoped you would've said something before we showed up.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. The gang ran late to the beach house on purpose. Of course, they did. The girls were perceptive. Always had been. “So, you knew.”

“Everyone knew, except for the two of you. What’s that trope?” Natasha questioned, her gaze directed at Sharon. “Idiots in love?”

“Oh, yeah,” she smiled. “You two are a walking romance novel, torturing yourselves for no good reason.”

“So, I'm an idiot then?” you said, narrowing your eyes when they both opened their mouths. “You know what? Don’t answer that.”

You beat yourself up enough.

“Like I said, I’m glad you told him and now you finally have confirmation that he feels the same way,” Natasha said, cocking an eyebrow. “What's the problem then?”

“What do you mean?” You replied.

“You said you took the night to think, but you don't exactly look like you're ready to move forward.”

“Because I don't know if I am,” you admitted.

You were overthinking the situation. You wanted to be with Bucky, but some of your wall was still up and you didn't know how to tear the rest of it down. Why was it so hard?

“Look, I'm not excusing what Bucky did because he's an idiot for going out with Dot instead of talking to you, but you know how he feels now,” Natasha began, diplomatic and level-headed like always. “Do you plan to keep him at a distance as a way to protect yourself? Or are you maybe punishing him just a little bit for seemingly abandoning you?”

Leave it to her to ask the tough questions.

“I'm not trying to punish him,” you promised. Both of you had punished yourselves enough. “I just don't want him to hurt me. I mean, I spent two years thinking he'd never want me, but he just didn't want to fight for me,” you said, tears brimming your eyes.

“Or maybe he thought he never stood a chance and settled,” Sharon said. “Which, again, he’s an idiot. Most guys are.”

“So, what are you saying? That I should just pretend the last two years didn't happen?” You asked.

“No,” they said in sync.

You huffed. Why were girls both direct and cryptic? “Then what are you saying?”

Natasha grabbed a tissue and handed it over when a tear slid down your cheek. “We’re saying that we think Bucky is genuinely sorry for his stupid assumption and wants you to be his girl. Start slow if you have to and set the ground rules. If it means him apologizing every day with his words and actions, he will. And we know if you gave him your heart, it would be the last thing he'd break. Don’t you owe it to yourself to be happy?”

“Yeah. Maybe just start with a date,” Sharon said, tilting her head when you didn’t say anything. They were only trying to help, but why did it feel like pressure of sorts? Did they fully understand your apprehension? “You really don't see how he looks at you, do you?”

“Why would I when I convinced myself he'd never want me?” You whispered.

Bucky had convinced himself of the same thing. Maybe the two of you were idiots. How long would you continue to torture yourself? They had a point. Why not start with one date and see where it led?

What would be the harm in that, besides risking your whole heart?

“Well, we see how he looks at you,” Sharon said, her eyebrows shooting up. “Wait. I have it.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Have what?” She asked. You wondered the same thing.

The front door opened before you got your answer, your heart skipping a beat when Bucky stopped in the doorway with a beach bag in hand. You realized after a moment that he was still in the same clothes he wore the day before, his eyes bloodshot as he looked your way. His hair was disheveled, too. He didn’t look like he slept well, if at all.

It broke your heart.

“Hey, Butterfly,” he croaked when you got to your feet, clearing his throat with a tired smile. “You look beautiful.”

“It’s just a sundress, Dreamboat,” you said, the compliment making your stomach flip before you took a step toward him. “Are you okay?”

His eyes lit up. “You’re still calling me that?”

“Of course, I am.” you smiled softly. He’d always be your Dreamboat. “Did you get any sleep?” You added, sighing when he confirmed your suspicion with a shake of his head. Had you been on his mind? “Why not?”

He gripped the bag handle like a lifeline. “I needed to find a way to say I’m sorry. Tried writing a letter and it wasn't enough.”

Your heart swelled, glancing back at the girls as they both gave you an encouraging smile. “Look. Before you do anything, why don’t you take a nap?” You suggested. “It’s still early and I’m not going anywhere.”

“A nap sounds like a good idea before volleyball,” Natasha said, leveling Bucky with a look. “In fact, why don’t you get him to bed?”

“Nat,” you hissed. Of course, she’d suggest you take him upstairs.

“Yeah, we’ll catch up with you two in a bit,” Sharon said.

The hopeful look in Bucky’s eyes was irresistible. “Come on,” you said, taking his arm once he kicked his shoes off. You felt his gaze on you as you took him up the stairs. It amazed you that he didn’t trip over his own feet since he kept his eyes on you. “I can tell you’re staring at me.”

“I half expected you to be gone this morning,” he said, opening his door. “I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

Your stomach dropped. “You think I’d bolt after the conversation we had?” You asked. Did he think little of you now?

He chuckled under his breath. “I said half expected,” he teased.

Instead of releasing your arm, he pulled you into his room before you could protest. It wasn’t a good idea to be there, yet there you were. Not fighting it as he pulled you toward the bed.

His large, inviting bed.

“So, what’s in the bag?” You asked curiously to distract yourself as he set it down and stretched out on the bed, pulling you down with him. He gave you plenty of room so you wouldn’t have to cuddle close. He also left the door cracked open.

He was giving you an out.

“I can’t show you yet because I have to put it together,” he yawned, giving you an apologetic smile. “It’ll spoil the surprise otherwise.”

A giddy smile appeared on your face. He was actually going to make you something. “I’ll be patient,” you said, letting him keep your hand in his.

“Haven’t we been patient long enough?” He asked, his hair falling in his eyes as he gazed at you. Even exhausted, he was breathtaking. “I know you needed the night to think it over.”

The smile fell from your face, silence stretching in the room before you squeezed his hand. “Bucky, you need to get some sleep.”

He couldn’t mask the dejected look on his face. It wasn’t an outright rejection, but you hadn’t exactly declared that you should move forward. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said, his voice thick. “All I could see were the tears in your eyes and knowing I caused them.”

“It’s okay,” you told him. It was an assurance for yourself, too. You were okay and he hadn't tried to hurt you.

“It’s not okay,” he argued, the familiar determination back in his eyes. “And I don’t want to sleep. I want to make you smile. I want to win you a stuffed animal at the carnival.”

“You promised me that at dinner yesterday,” you teased.

“I want to take you dancing,” he added, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

You could easily picture him smiling as he twirled you around and moved to the beat. Maybe that could be your first actual date. “As long as you don’t step on my feet.”

“I want to take you to bed,” he whispered,

You inhaled, your heart pounding at the implication. “Bucky…”

“I want to hear about your day. The little things, even the details that you think are mundane,” he said, scooting a bit closer. “I want to be the one you talk to and depend on again.”

Each declaration worked its way into your heart. Why couldn’t you just take the leap of faith? “We can’t just-”

“I want you to be my girl,” he said, his face inches from yours. “I want to give you everything.”

Your heart screamed at you to comfort him, kiss him, to tell him the same. “Bucky, you’re not giving me anything until you get some sleep,” you whispered, resting a hand on his cheek. He needed rest. “Please, for me?”

“I’m afraid if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone,” he whispered, fighting to keep his eyes open. “I can't lose you again.”

You didn't want to lose him either. “You won't lose me because I’m not going anywhere. I said we’d figure this out together and I meant that,” you promised, needing to give him hope. “Close your eyes. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He finally shut them as he breathed out, “Butterfly, I lo…”

You gasped as Bucky trailed off, smiling to yourself as your eyes misted over. You weren’t going to run. Not from him. Not when you owed it to yourself to be happy.

You told yourself that as his phone rang.

Even as Dot’s name showed on the screen.

It's fine, lovelies! 😭 Things will look up. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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fumekara · 3 months

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ALL THE THINGS I HAVE DONE (Part 2)

SatoSugu x Gn reader

Plot: Your relationship with the strongest sorcerers in Japan was falling apart after they yelled at you and broke your heart.

n/a: English is not my first language, there will be a final part of this writing experiment, I am not very satisfied with how it came out.

Tw: A lot of angst, season 2 spoilers, mention of sex, polyamorous relationship, mention of the death of one's pet, the reader has a cat, in this version Geto is a sorcerer.

If you are sensitive to mourning for your pets, do not interact with this fic.

WC: 1.9K

Click here for part 1

You had lain down and held Nuko in your arms the night you found him under the bed in the guest room and, without your noticing, you had fallen asleep, but no one seemed to care, Sutoru and Suguru had not come to wake you up to join them.

You were sure they were still angry with you for what had happened the night before and you didn't want to think about it, since you now had another problem to deal with, Nuko's.

He wasn't well, not at all, you could see it from the way he was lying on himself, the way he avoided moving and the way he occasionally meowed as if to warn you that he was still alive, for now.

You stroked his back and he let you, after all he couldn't do much.

Suddenly you heard the sound of approaching footsteps in your room. Immediately you rolled onto your back and pretended to be asleep.

When Suguru and Satoru entered your room, trying to make as little noise as possible, Nuko lifted his head as if to find out who was interrupting your fake sleep.

You felt their weight sink into the bed when they sat beside you and then you felt a hand gently stroking your back.

"Y/N?" Satoru called you in a low voice. You didn't answer hoping that would be enough to convince them to leave you alone.

"We know you're not sleeping," Suguru said as he approached you from the other side of the bed, being careful not to crush Nuko with his weight.

"How did you know?" you asked resigned by the fact that it was now useless to pretend.

"Your breathing was too irregular, that's not what you do when you sleep. We know better by now after so long sleeping together." you heard Sato chuckle as he rested his head on your shoulder. He was uncertain of the movement because he was afraid you would reject him because of what happened yesterday, but when you didn't he kept to your side.

Suguru who was in front of you removed a lock of hair from your face very gently, as if you were made of glass, the same gesture you had made to him yesterday, and it broke his heart when he thought back to how badly he had treated you after you had given him a taste of your love.

You reached out your hand again, but not to return the affection of the two men beside you, but to stroke your cat again, who was taking quick, heavy breaths.

"He's sick" you broke the silence.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Satoru looking at Nuko.

"I don't know, but he doesn't eat, breathes poorly and sleeps all day." You rolled onto your back and the white-haired man pulled away from you to give you space.

"Is that why you didn't sleep with us last night? Or even because of what happened yesterday?" asked Suguru worriedly, but you had a hunch he was using it as an excuse to criticise you.

"What do you mean, that I use my cat being sick as an excuse not to sleep with you?" you asked without hiding your irritation.

"I didn't mean that, we're just worried."

"Really?, so why didn't you come to wake me up if you care so much?" you sat up and so did they. "Don't pretend you care so much, I know you don't" you spat, by now you had a feeling you didn't care what they thought anymore, not after the words they said to you last time.

"Y/N, we do care about you. We came here to apologize to you," Satoru told you, trying to find the right words to keep you from getting angry.

"We went too far yesterday, Y/N, we shouldn't have treated you that way" Suguru picked you up and made you rest your head on his chest and shortly afterwards Satoru joined in the hug "We are sincerely sorry for what happened".

You felt the strong urge to cry and let them wrap their arms around you, but part of you did not believe their words. By now it seemed to you that they were only pretending to really love you. All you had been thinking about for weeks was how you felt like the third wheel in your relationship, as if they were only with you for convenience, because you were fun for them and not because they cared about you.

The way they talked to each other, cuddled and had fun without you had started to make you feel insecure about your role in the relationship with Suguru and Satoru, even though those moments made you suspect that they didn't really need you, it still remained an assumption. But you also suspected that they were more aloof and impatient with you in a different way than between the two of them, and yesterday's discussion and the fact that they didn't want you with them in bed seemed to have awakened in you the confirmation of your worries.

"How many times do we have to go through this again?" you said trying to hide the urge to cry "Now you apologize, but I know it will happen again in the future."

They looked at each other not believing your words.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" asked Suguru.

Then you confessed: "I am not part of this relationship.".

"Yes, you're part of it, we love you Y/N," Satoru told her by taking her chin mat so she could look straight into your blue eyes "I know what we said to you was mean, but you mustn't think we don't love you just because we had a fight once. We..."

"It's not just that" you interrupt him "I watch how you treat each other and you don't do it the same way you treat me. It's not the first time you've made me feel clingy, when you often do things as if I'm not there, when you change the subject as soon as I butt into the conversation or when you get nervous about the smallest things I do." you continued "I feel like that all the time, when we're together, when we talk to each other, even when we make love I feel like I'm just a fun for you, not someone you love."

After you opened up to them, your boyfriends stared at you, not believing what you had just told them. They were not sure what had made you doubt the love they both had for each other, but they thought back to the fact that the two of them had known each other longer than you, worked together and always together had faced so many problems and dark pasts that, although they had hurt them deeply, they had learnt to face them together and, no matter how hard you had tried to support them, as they had supported each other in the darkest moments of their lives. You were not to blame, they were simply part of a world of which you were not and could not be a part.

Together they faced the death of Haibara and Riko and both shared the scars that had been inflicted on them by Toji Fushiguro. For years they supported each other and loved each other unconditionally, sharing everything with each other, everything they loved most, including you.

They loved you, really loved you, but they knew that they had both shared something in their experience as sorcerers that had allowed them to strengthen their bond and their love, but they had left you behind.

They both did not know what to say because they knew that was the truth. The only thing they felt able to do was to hold you in their arms again, this time with more strength, with more affection, as if they did not want to let you go. Their faces were buried in you, Suguru in your back and Satoru's in your shoulder, and you heard them crying.

"I have to take Nuko to the vet. But I think there's not much to do with him," you said, letting a silent tear slide down your cheek.

"Let us take you," Satoru told you, holding you tightly, rubbing his head in the crook of your neck.

"No, I need to be alone," your voice broke. By now you knew you had lost the boys you had fallen in love with and you just wanted to run away.

By now you could no longer contain the tears that fell uninterruptedly from your eyes, they let you go, and as you left the room carrying Nuko with you, you heard their sobs and your heart broke.

______________

And now here you were, in the driveway of your backyard sitting on the seat of your car holding Nuko's yellow collar.

You had been there for fifteen minutes already, but you hadn't yet made up your mind to get out and go into the house; you didn't know how you would face Satoru and Suguru. You were afraid that after all you had confessed to them before you left them alone in tears it would be the final turning point that would end your relationship. You didn't want to hurt them, just the thought of making them cry made you feel bad, you loved them, you loved them so much and you would probably separate.

You took a couple of deep breaths and got out of the car.

After entering the house you closed the door and took off your shoes still holding the collar.

You had been out of the house all day and by now everyone must have gone to sleep. The house was silent and shrouded completely in darkness except for a light coming from the kitchen.

As you silently entered you saw Suguru and Satoru sitting on either side of the dining table who, as soon as they noticed your presence, although you could glimpse tiredness and sadness in their eyes, tried to show you their best smile.

They had been waiting for you.

They both extinguished their smiles when you approached them pointing out the traces of crying on your face, and only then did they realize that you had returned alone.

You sat by Suguru's side with Satoru facing you and placed Nuko's collar on the table, letting them know that your cat was gone forever. Suddenly you felt tears fill your eyes again.

"Oh love, come here," Suguru hugged you, while Satoru got up from his chair to join you and do the same. You stayed like that for you don't know how long, despite everything that had happened, they were there for you at that moment, just as you were always there for them when they needed you. They let you cry and vent, hugging you as if to protect you from all the evil in the world.

At one point you felt your body lift off the ground, you didn't know if it was Satoru or Suguru holding you, but you buried your tearful face in his neck as he carried you to the bedroom.

They laid you in the middle of the bed and held you close all night, even when you all fell asleep together.

Perhaps there was still hope between you, perhaps all was not lost.

Click here for the final part

Tag: @tatahungry

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reiderwriter · 10 months

Note

Hi!!! I really love your writing 🥺 Idk how this works so Idk if my request is alright so If it's ok for you to write it, I got this idea about Spencer turning into a player/manwhore after maeve died so he's not into y/n in the beginning but the others always joke about how she's totally in love with him and he doesn't believe until he starts to notice little things she does for him(like getting him coffee every morning, remembering everything he says) so he start to fall for her. Genre: smut with soft!Dom Spencer, dirty talk, degradation(please no daddy kink) (Sorry if it's to long, I read it's best for you if we give as much detail as possible so that's that) I'm going to identify myself with this emoji 🥺 when I read the fic or in my next requests, hope I gave you something to write with.

A/N: Thank you for the request and omg this plot has given me brain rot since you sent it in 💀 I accidentally made this a little angst-heavy for the first half but there's a very "happy ending" if you catch my drift. I hope you love it! ❤️

Summary: Spencer Reid's heart is broken. But in healing himself in the arms of countless woman, he doesn't realise he's breaking yours.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, angst, oral (F receiving), fingering, P in V penetration, dirty talk, degradation of you squint a little, soft!Dom Spencer is incredibly soft.

My masterlist with all my other works is here, and my requests are open!

It had taken four whole months before someone on the team had confronted Spencer about his grief, his lack of sleep, his overall dreariness, and they were almost shocked that it wasn’t you that did it. When Rossi had walked up to him, offering a story about his Uncle Sal in an attempt to get him to open up, or at least seek help, the others were on the other side of the glass, shooting looks over at you, quietly enquiring with their eyes about why it hadn’’t been you to offer him that out.

But you had, you’d been trying. You’d been following him around, taking him food every couple days to make sure he was eating, sticking around to make sure that he wasn’t lonely. You’d even cleaned up after him on the particularly hard days, where he didn’t want to move from his bed and couldn’t bring himself to go outside if there was no work, no one else to save. But you couldn’t offer him more, because he already had all of you.

You’d first realised that you were in love with Spencer Reid a few months after you’d joined the team. You’d been bought on as a fresh set of eyes on a case that had a lot more to do with you then the rest of the team had been led to believe.

Your high school boyfriend had been the victim of a notorious highway murderer, and you yourself had been kidnapped by the unsub, put in hell for the following three days and escaped with your life only because of an earlier BAU team, including agents Hotchner and Rossi. When bodies had started turning up on the same stretch of highway, you needed to be involved or you’d never prove to yourself that you could do what they did to save you. That you’d be able to put your feelings aside and catch monsters.

You’d found the man responsible of course, and in restraining yourself from putting a bullet in his brain, you’d found yourself a place on the team, and some peace for a time. And then Spencer happened.

You really should have known. You were always fond of the nerdy type, of men who had such deep interests that they forgot to pay attention to social queues, who had too many cute habits (like purposefully mismatching socks) that you couldn’t help but find endearing. You’d grown close quickly, with the man grateful that there was finally someone to listen to him ramble and not judge him, and you grateful that he also held himself back enough, listened closely and well to remember so many details about your conversations. You knew an eidetic memory helped, but it was the care in the small actions, like buying you the beanie baby you lost as a child but still mourned, that you’d mentioned in conversation a grand total of one time, that really solidly made you realise. You were in love with him and had dug yourself a hole that you weren’t going to be able to climb out of anytime soon.

You’d almost told him once. Convinced that if you just explained your feelings, he’d suddenly feel the same or realise that he felt the same way, too. You’d opened your mouth to let the words run freely, but he beat you to it.

“I’ve met someone, and she’s totally brilliant and I think I might love her, and that must be an insane thing to say considering I’ve never even seen her face.” You’d willed the broken pieces of your heart together as you forced a smile on your face, ready to listen to the man who owned your heart smile for another, live for another, breath for another.

When Maeve had ultimately passed away, you knew that you’d never be able to say those words to him. You weren’t going to be the replacement for a dead woman, and you weren’t going to push those feelings on him when he was grieving. But you loved him and he needed you, so you stayed.

On the nights where he was so angry with the world that his words were biting, on the days where he said almost nothing so trapped inside his brain, in the hours between dusk and dawn where there was no rest for him, wiping away the tears that fell silently and just being as near to him as he needed.

You had some experience in broken hearts, anyways. You might as well put it to good use.

–X–

It had taken five whole months since Maeve’s death for the team to realise that Spencer was changing. He was still the same person intrinsically, ready to spring into a conversation about absolutely anything and everything that interested him at the drop of a hat, still debating with Penelope about which of them was smarter, still being teased in that playful way by Morgan. But there was a confidence to him now that was almost dangerous in the fact that it was uncharted territory for him.

You’d noticed it first on one of your regular coffee runs. The two of your were so serious about your coffee tasting like anything but actual coffee that you’d bonded over the need for a sweet treat, and had been going for coffee before all of your office shifts almost since you’d started. You were glad to have him finally back by your side, making stupid jokes about how many philosophers it would take to change a lightbulb, and actually smiling and laughing with you that you almost didn’t notice anything amiss.

But when the barista who took his order carefully slipped him her number - something she’d been doing for the whole six months you’d been frequenting that cafe - for once, he hadn’t thrown it away. He’d taken a lingering look at the digits inked neatly into the napkin and quietly slipped it into his pocket. You were confused to say the least, but since that night of your almost confession, there had been a boundary between you two in that sense.

It was almost as if, if you didn’t ask questions about Spencer’s love life, it was like he wasn’t out there, being in love. With Maeve it had worked fine because he’d never met her, and honestly, until you’d started trying to save her he hadn’t brought her up a lot. But now, you were too afraid to break your own heart again to check up on him, deciding to let it go for your own well-being.

The others had noticed soon enough. Comments about a pep in his step, his flirtacious manner with some of the female witnesses. He’d gained a few claps on the back from Morgan after closed off conversations that you had decided you were thankful not to have heard.

Because if you never saw or heard what Reid was doing, and apparently doing with multiple women, multiple times a week, then it couldn’t hurt you anymore than you were already hurting now.

–X–

It took seven months from Maeve’s death to realise that you were only fooling yourself this entire time.

Despite his new-found release, the therapy he’d found in the beds of women whose names he never learnt, there was one thing that you could still rely on with Reid, and that was your Friday night Star Trek watch-along.

You’d mentioned once a few weeks into your job that you’d never seen it before, and he’d had this absolutely starry-eyed look on his face in bewilderment, that when he’d half-heartedly suggested you watch it together, you’d leapt at the chance. Since there was so much of it, here you were over a year later, still keeping to that Friday night ritual. You’d watched it together in motels in the middle of nowhere, you’d watched it together over the Christmas holidays, you’d watched it together in the days directly after Maeve’s death, and tonight was supposed to be no different.

You pulled up to his apartment and knocked on the door, and when you couldn’t immediately hear him shout to “come in” from his kitchen as he was preparing the popcorn, you knew that something was wrong. His door was always unlocked, and he laughed at your habit of knocking on the door, insisting that you could just walk in anytime you needed.

Now that you needed to, your hand seemed heavier than ever. You gripped the cold metal of the handle, knowing exactly what you would find on the other side of the door, but still wanting to live in the clear denial of it. You prayed it was something else keeping him distracted.

You let yourself in and were welcomed with the sight that shattered your heart for the final time. There were clothes scattered across the floor, male and female. Shoes discarded in the heat of the moment. You didn’t want your eyes to follow, but your feet weren’t listening as they walked you to the bedroom door, thrust wide open, and you saw him there finally.

“Shit, Y/N, what are you doing here?” he scrambled to pull his clothes back on, to cover whatever woman it was underneath him that day, to make sure you didn’t see anymore of the image that would be burned into the back of your brain for the rest of your life.

You couldn’t say anything. You knew that he had been doing this, doing it to cope, doing it to move on, doing it to feel a sense of intimacy after he didn’t get that with Maeve. But here was the irrefutable proof that he’d never even looked at you with an ounce of the feeling you had for him. You held up the bag of snacks you usually bought to your Trek marathons as a response, the tears filling up your eyes rendering you mute as you finally tore yourself out of the room.

“Oh god, it’s Friday. I didn’t realise…. I’m sorry, can we do a raincheck, Y/N?” He guided you further out of the room, placing a hand to the small of your back to help move you along. Something in you snapped then and you recoiled from his touch, whipping your head up to him and just staring at him with all the defiance you could muster. He had broken your heart, you weren’t going to let him dismiss you that quickly.

“Y/N, why are you crying? What’s wrong, what happened? Tell me and I’ll do everything I can to fix it.” He finished his words, and made to wipe the tears from your face, but you slapped his hands away from you before he could make contact.

“Don’t… just don’t touch me, Spencer.” Those were the only words you could offer in explanation before you turned on your heel and ran straight out of his apartment for the last time.

–X–

It took one month from you storming out of his apartment for Spencer to realise that he hadn’t dreamt of Maeve in the same amount of time. Where his dreams had been full of her asking him to dance, they were now full of you recoiling from his touch, refusing to speak to him outside of your professional work, withdrawing into yourself and crying. The worst ones were the ones where you were crying because he tried desperately to hold you, to wipe the kisses away, but everytime he tried you moved further and further from his reach.

It had been a month of you ignoring him, and he still didn’t know what went wrong. Yes, you’d caught him in bed with a girl, but you knew he was doing that. You’d known from the start, and he’d known that you’d known, so surely it wasn't just that.

Morgan wasn’t helping him on that front either. He’d explained the awkward run-in in his apartment, desperate for some answers and received some pretty curt replies.

“Pretty boy, if you don’t realise what you did wrong, then there’s nothing I’m going to do to help you. You’re on your own until then.” He’d refused to talk about it anymore.

He’d thought a few times about talking to the girls on the team, but you’d been partnered with JJ for the last month on cases to avoid him, and there was a bond there between the two of you that he didn’t want to overstep.

It was in this confusion that Rossi found him again, taking pity on the boy wandering around like a lost puppy in the absence of your friendship.

“Kid, what is up with you again recently?”

“Y/N has been avoiding me, and I don’t know why. Derek said it was my fault because she… well she walked in on something that I’d rather she hadn’t, you know, and I don’t know why she still won’t talk to me because it’s been a month.” He rambled out, thankful that someone was finally hearing him out.

“If I’m understanding your insinuation here, I think I know what the problem is.” Rossi sat back, choosing his words carefully, so as not to startle the younger man. But he was so worked up all over you, missing your voice, your touch, your company, and just wanting you back in whatever way he could get you that he jumped at the very suggestion of answers.

“Then please, tell me, I’m begging you. I’ve been tearing my hair out trying to figure out what it is and I just miss her so much that it hurts.”

“Spencer, you know I usually don’t get involved in the personal lives of my coworkers, but just listen to me now, nice and calmly - and dont try to interrupt me or say a word. I know what I’m talking about, okay?” He gave a quick nod of his head, waiting with baited breath for Rossi to continue.

“The girl is in love with you. Head over heels, in fact, and has been for quite some time. And she was holding it together real nice until you decided to become this casanova and now she is heartbroken,” Spencer looked like he was about to interrupt, to spew out that that couldn’t possibly be the case, but Rossi silenced him with a look. “If you don’t believe me, you use that memory of yours and you do what you do best. Think about it.”

–X–

For the next three months, that was all Spencer did. He thought about every interaction you’d ever had. The blush on your cheeks when he’d introduced himself for the first time (and refused to shake your hand). The countless nights spent curled up on opposite sides of his couch, laughing and crying together at silly sci-fi shows. The way you’d thrown yourself into his arms after a particularly gruelling case, buried your head in his chest instead of anyone else's. The day you’d finally confessed your past to him, how he’d felt your heart beating as he held a finger to your pulse, hand gently holding yours waiting for you to finish describing the time you’d stared death in the face.

You’d noticed the change, but you wouldn’t let yourself acknowledge it fully. Noticed how he’d shoot you lingering glances from across the room, how he’d look like he had something to say when you announced you were leaving for the night. How he’d ask everyone together what their friday night plans were just to hear you admit that you were going home alone in the company of the rest of the team.

You’d noticed, and god had it given you a spark of hope that you wished would die quickly. You’d noticed, and so you weren’t as surprised when he turned up on your doorstep four months after you’d last talked to him, on another friday evening.

“What are you doing here?” you greeted him, the words coming out colder than you wanted them to seem, inwardly cursing yourself for letting your emotions get the better of you.

“Don’t make me leave, please, I just have something to ask and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Spencer, it’s been a long day, and I just want to go to bed so-”

“Do you still love me?” His words cut you off and your heart all but stopped. Your tongue grew heavy, and the inside of your mouth tasted acidic, knowing that you weren’t going to be able to fully stomach whatever conversation was coming.

“Excuse me?” you spluttered out eventually.

“Three months ago, Rossi said that you were in love with me, and I need to know that if that was the case, are you still in love with me now?” You expected some cold curious look to be gracing his face, but you looked up to see his eyes perfectly trained on your own, his mouth set in a line, a look of stony determination set on his face.

“If I say yes, what difference does that make?” you tried not to spit out the words, but you had no control over the venom in your heart.

“If you say yes, then I am going to kiss you, and then I am going to spend every last day I have on the planet making up for being an idiot for the last two years.” Your breath caught in your throat, and, not for the first time in front of Spencer Reid, you were stunned into silence.

“So, what is your answer?” He looked down at you again, and you started to see the cracks in his stony facade, started to see through to the man who desperately wanted you to say yes, to scream it at him.

The word hadn’t even fully formed on your tongue before he was crashing down into you, his mouth pleading for forgiveness and wrapping you up in him. He grabbed you and pulled you back into your apartment, whispering into each of your kisses.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.�� The two of you stumbled into the space, but he never moved his hands from the sides of your face, cupping your cheeks gently as his lips brushed against yours again and again.

Your legs gave way beneath you by the time you’d reached the open space of your living room, but instead of catching you, he fell to his knees with you, content for the two of you to just sit there together in each other's embrace.

“You’ve loved me this entire time, and I was too stupid to realise that you’re everything I need.” He kissed your mouth, your jaw, your neck, moving his hands from your face to your waist, pulling you in deep again as you desperately pulled away in search of breath. That only toppled you further to the ground, and he came down on top of you again as well, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head so you didn’t hurt yourself.

And you kissed him back just as fervently when your breath returned, listening to every apology and forgiving him with every touch. His kisses said “I’m sorry,” and yours said “I know,” and that was all the communication you needed for now.

He pulled your shirt over your head eventually, and your skin met the cold tile of the floor, a shiver running up your spine causing you to buck your hips up into his. He hissed at the contact and pushed his bodyweight down further into yours, his legs slotting perfectly between your splayed ones now.

“It took me too long to realise, and it has taken me too long to act on the knowledge, but I am not going to let you go again, do you understand?” he pushed his lips into yours again before you could respond, and you clawed into his shoulders as he started grinding down into your body. His hand trailed up your waist to your breasts, pulling them free from the constraints of your bra, as he let his tongue slide down from your neck to your chest.

“I need to hear you say it baby, need you to say you understand, can you do that for me?” Your body burned under his attention, back arching desperately for more contact as his tongue swirled your nipple into his mouth, gasping breaths loud enough to fill the empty air of your apartment. His stiff cock was firmly pressing against your core now, barely clothed in the pajamas you’d pulled on before his arrival.

“Spencer, yes, I need you, I need you right now, please,” grabbed at either side of his face and pulled him back up so he was face to face with you. You initiated the kiss this time, and you could feel your heart soar at the tender kiss he met you with, thankful for the reciprocation.

“Not yet, baby, not yet, okay?” he whispered in your ear, trailing his hands down to your centre and slipping his hand under your clothes. “So fucking wet for me, baby. Just for me, right, baby?” His fingers found your clit, and he started rolling it between his fingers. He worked slowly enough to drive you insane, but giving you just enough relief that you couldn’t complain.

“Yes, Spencer, yes, yes it’s all for you. Only for you,” you managed to gasp out. He shifted his hand after a few minutes, still pressing love bites down your chest, claiming you as his in the most animalistic way possible. He spread the wetness that pooled at your core around, making sure that his fingers were coated in you before pushing a single digit into your aching hole, thumb continuing to draw circles around your bundle of nerves.

“That’s my little slut, so desperate for me, so needy for me.” His words shot through you, and you started thrusting your hips up desperate for more friction with his hand. He roughly pushed you back down, pinning you under him with his free hand.

“No, baby, I’m in charge here. You sit back and relax and let me make you feel good,okay?” His words soothed you, the growing heat in the pit of your stomach fizzing in anticipation. His kisses dropped lower and lower, until he was finally pulling off your remaining clothing and replacing his thumb with his lips.

“Fuck Spencer, if you keep doing that, I’m going to-” another sharp intake as he pumped a second finger in and out of you.

“Going to what, baby? Use your words?”

“I’m going to cum, Spencer please, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum.,,” you rode out your high with his face stuffed between your legs still, swallowing your loud moans for fear of the entire neighbourhood knowing just how obsessed you were with this man.

“You did so good for me, baby, so good. I love you so much, okay? I’m going to take care of you from now on, okay?” He began pressing kisses to your mouth again, and you could taste yourself against him now.

“I need you so badly, baby, are you going to let me have you?” He started pulling off his own clothing now, removing his shirt and tie, but never once leaving your embrace for too long.

“I love you so much, baby. I’m sorry for not realising before, but I realise now. I was so terrible to you after Maeve, and god, even before she died I was using you as a therapist to talk through my thoughts and fears, but I was too dense to even realise that I was only in love with Maeve because she was safe. I couldn’t meet her, couldn’t touch her, didn’t have the chance to ruin anything I had with her. I couldn't realise that she wasn’t you, that she wasn’t going to feel like you do in my arms. And maybe some part of me loved her, but we were using each other, and I was using her to avoid confronting how I felt about you.”

“And how I feel for you is different. I am obsessed with you, Y/N. I am so madly in love with you that the last four months have felt like hell. I could have emptied myself of all the blood in my body and still my heart would be beating for you. Do you understand?”

You answered in a chaste kiss on his lips, sweet and quick, but as much as you could muster without driving yourself to the brink of insanity getting yourself high on his touch.

“Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want now, okay?” He’d unbuttoned his pants shortly after that and you stared transfixed at the head of his cock poking up and out of them, desperate to see it, touch it, taste it.

“I need you inside of me, Spence, please,” you cried out, tears welling in your eyes at the tender contact, the confession. All the emotions you’d been burying for the last four months bubbling to the surface, dancing around your head as he made you dizzy with desire.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” with the last of his clothing removed he was finally free, taking his heavy,aching cock in his hand and lining himself up with you. With a single thrust, and another confession of love, he gave you what you wanted so much.

“You wanted me like this, baby? So desperate to have my cock inside you?” he plagued you with questions as you adjusted to his size, watching your face for any discomfort as you mumbled out yes after yes.

“Me too, baby. I wanted you just like this, wanted you so desperate and dripping for me that I could slide right in, wanted you like this for me and only me.” He began thrusting then, slowly pumping his cock into you, heavy with each return, the sound of skin slapping against skin joining the ensemble of your moans.

“I love you,” he said again, and with each thrust of his hips, and you responded in kind, matching his thrusts with your own and pressing a kiss into the skin of his shoulders. You were so desperate and needy, so starved of touch and starved of one another that neither of you lasted long. Your bodies were so in sync that as soon as he’d pushed you over the edge for a second time, you could feel him spill himself inside you, filling you completely.

He rolled off you, but didn’t leave you there, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom. He cleaned you up as much as possible, then folded you back into his arms, holding you again so tenderly that you let the tears flow down your cheeks for a final time.

It was Friday night, and he was here, and he loved you. You weren’t going to let him go again.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #criminal minds smut #requested #🥺 Anon

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 6 months

Note

Hello! Recently I've been reading your works (usually twst, disney and sometimes oc) and im really interested.

I would like to request yandere cinderella x reader please if thats okay!

Im not sure if there is any request rules i should follow since i cant really find any or if its open so sorry if i broke any of them! Btw no need to answer this if you aren't interested or dont have the energy, im just curious in how you would write them since they are very unique and nicely written. Remember please take care of yourself and take rest when you need to!! (since you literally post almost everyday)

I try I do post everday, though I'm surprised anyone noticed 🖤🖤🖤

Yandere Genderbend Cinderella x Reader

To say you didn’t like you’re step-brother would be an understatement.

You hated him.

Him and all that he stood for.

It was disgusting, how wicked Ellwick was to you and your family. Not wicked in the way that he looked down on you; more so in the way that his existence was an obstacle to yours. Currently he made it his mission to insert himself where he never belonged, constantly upending your rightful place. You remembered the time before the single father and son duo shoved their way into your family’s lives. It was peaceful, well as peaceful as life with your family could be. Guns, knifes, drugs, cement shoes–the life that meant serving your family and running the city from behind the scenes. Your mother, your brother, and the many associates that joined your family.

What can you say? Blood is binding especially when spilt.

Cinder Ellwick and his father came into your home under the silly notion of ‘healthy’ love. As if fighting alongside one another wasn’t love, these men marched into your lives expecting to ‘fix’ your already perfect family.

Your brother and the many others could spot the foolishness in their morale, unfortunately your mother could not. Which devastated her the moment her new husband got his rightful comeuppance.

“He shouldn’t have joined the game, if he didn’t know how to play.”

Your brother scoffed under his breath during your mother’s mournful eulogy. You couldn’t help but agree. Only irritating you more when your mother dressed in black brought the blonde-headed boy to you two saying something along the lines of him being a permanent burden on your family.

“It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

So what? It was his fault for getting involved! His fault for getting kidnapped! His fault for refusing to arm himself, when you warned him! So why did you, your family, have to live with the nuisance?

“I’m going to try my best, to be apart of this family. Properly this time.”

“That’s good to hear, Ellwick.”

Not long after that he took up the role as you’re family’s cleanup crew, eliminating those your family marked. Unpaid debts and traitors were his targets, the scum of your faction–perfect level for Ellwick to begin truly becoming apart of this family. You’d think that’d be enough for him to feel included. But that’s just like him to be so greedy.

“May I come with you on that mission?”

Ellwick asked, still panting from running down the halls from Mother’s office trying to catch up to you and your brother. You both were prepared, dressed to the nines in comparison to him who was in a dirtied leather suit. It'd be a burden and embarrassment for him to come.

Your brother laughed, ” No chance! Look at you covered in cinders again! What’d you do, wrestle your target in a fire pit?”

Ellwick awkwardly smiled as your brother held his stomach. Laughter rising and eyes widening as if he had an epiphany. He points at the blonde, who barely winces at the pressure.

“Kind of like–Cinderwick! Haha!”

You rolled your eyes as he repeated the name inbetween his belly laughs. Ellwick’s smile was twitching on the otherhand turning his attention to you. Glaring at him you ushered your brother away, barely turning your head to the crushed boy.

“You can’t. We won’t be letting an outsider handle things as private as this.”

Many of your interactions would go like this. Cinderwick inserting himself in your personal business and you putting him in his place, your latest mission was no different. Only that you were older and more responsibility will have fallen to you. You had to step up more than ever.

“Alright my children as we discussed you will be infiltrating the gathering. Your target is the first son of the Mayor. Blackmail, romance him, kiss up, we need a foothold on the city. I can only trust my children.”

“Than why is he here?”

You shifted your eyes to the blond hitman who was standing barely a foot you and your brother. Your mother sighed.

“We need all hands on deck. Our competitors are in attendance as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if they try anything and I just can’t have my babies be put in danger.”

She held both you and your brother’s cheeks pinching it a little. Leaning into her touch you happily smiled at her over-endearment. Whereas your brother recoiled and wriggled away nursing his cheek.

“Aw geez Ma will you stop.”

“Now my children.” She looked to Ellwick.”All my children. I wish you the best.”

______________________________________________________________

It was almost commendable, how fast Cinderwick managed to do it. Wooing the son of the mayor and leading him on a wild goose chase that ultimately led to a grand proposal. To which he accepted.

There was a nervousness about him being the victor; a sudden power handed to someone who wasn’t apart of the family. He was in a position of power, a position that allowed him to string your family along.

“Congratulations my son! We’re happy you’ve found love in such a place!”

Sugarcoated words and fake pearly smiles were the next step in the mission. Officially tying the mayor to your family…all with a man who wasn’t apart of the family.

“Oh thank you step-mother! I can’t wait to have you and the family at our wedding.”

Your mother’s eye twitched at the ‘step’ but she maintained her smile letting Cinderwick cuddle into his fiance’s arm as they continued to chatter. It was revolting that it was he who returned to the estate with a cocky smile and a ring on his finger.

“Well you told all your children to do your best and they tried. So I will take the mantle up…as long as you agree to my terms.”

The following sentence had your mother sending you and your brother out of the room–treatment originally reserved for an outsider like him. Your brother stomped away dropping his emotionless persona, you followed.

“ARGH! How the heck did that slimy cinderblock idiot get ahead of us!? This is ridiculous!”

“...We tried…Arthur don’t do what I think you’re going to do.”

He turned to you the fire in his eyes directed to you.

“Tried?! We should’ve easily bested that bag of soot!”

Turning back around he made his way to his office slamming his mini fridge open to reveal a plethora of beers and cheap wine bottles. You thought you threw those out. You debated staying as he quickly began to chug the drinks haphazardly dropping the finished cans to the ground.

“Arthur. Don’t drink anything else.”

“Why!? Why wasn’t it me or you even!?”

“Well for one, typical romance isn’t exactly our field of expertise. I don’t know what you exp–”

You were cutoff by the ceramic smashing near the wall behind your head. Barely missing you it was lucky all you got was a cut from the ricochet glass shatter. It didn’t bother you, it seemed shallow, so you pressed further entering the room more. Closing and locking the door behind you as you closed in on your brother aiming to simply hug him.

It didn’t stop his drinking bout but it did bring him to a wobbly pause. Letting you slowly walk him away from the desk the alcohol sat. As if he was being taunted once he got barely three steps away he wrenched himself from your grip darting towards the alcohol. In his raw distracted strength he barely pushed you back into the decorative cabinet.

You would have repeated your attempt if it weren’t for the sudden grip of Ellwick’s leather glove on your wrist. Naturally you pulled yourself away or tried to. Struggling against his bone breaking hold, you ultimately relented as Arthur began to shove off the contents on his desk. Ellwick easily shoved you out of the room, successfully doing so. With that same force he pushes you against the wall, trapping you against it with his narrowed irises and presence alone.

“What are you doing?!”

“Its none of your business.”

“It is every bit my business! Why would you go anywhere near him when he’s in a drunken rage?”

“Because he’s family!” Your voice cracked with emotion, daring to look up at his softened blue eyes. With faux cough, you fixed yourself staring head on to the blonde before slipping past him.

“I don’t expect you to understand that though.”

Speed-walking out of the hall, your only goal was to return to your room hoping to finally relieve the burning sensation in your eyes. Ellwick on the other hand watched you walk away more specifically the cut that had let blood of yours trickle down.

In a fury like none other Ellwick made his way to the closed door. It was time to end this.

For good.

_____________________________________________________________

“My son. I want you to know I will always love your mother and I’ll never stop loving her.”

“Right.”

“But I’ve found someone who makes me happy! Someone who will cherish me and you!”

“Okay.”

“The thing is…she has a very different line of work.”

Ellwick wasn’t sold. Even as young as he was there wasn’t an inherent attraction to the mafia-life. When he had the chance to he’d read a torrent of love-stories and twisted family relations all with mafia environments. It usually ended in death, somehow bringing a foreboding cloud over this new developement.

*Click*

“Whoa whoa little one I get that I’m not a replacement for any–”

“My gun. Take it.”

“E-excuse me?”

Ellwick didn’t really register you before this. Eyes widening as someone as tiny as you easily cocked and flipped the butt of a gun in the direction of his father. Wielding the weapon he’d only seen on those forbidden adult movies with such ease. A silent urgency on your part, you were offering your gun with a custom handle of your favorite color.

It was an uncharacteristic show of kindness.

The first he’d seen in a while.

Since the announcement of your parent’s engagement there was a tension birthed among your closest members and your family. It was a clear sentiment that they dared not express with Ellwick in the room or their boss for that matter.

‘You’re going to be a target. You’re going to die.’

Everyone wanted to say it. Hint at it. But the air was too thick and they were too scared to break the silence.

But not you.

You were the only one to tell it to him straight. Other than Ellwick himself. Of course the old geezer didn’t listen, avidly refusing to take your weapon and then attempting to get the weapon back from you.

It made you his favorite.

To think underneath such a cold exterior there was something soft–small but soft. Its what Ellwick told himself when you’d glare and insult him. He’s never found himself doing the same for your mother and brother. Only finding it in him to imagine their tortuous ends at his hands, he could never do that with you. Even when he began to do his work, he’d be all the more motivated when imagining two-thirds of his step-family.

Step-family. He didn’t like that title.

He hated associating you with that.

He liked you a lot more than that of a step-family.

He could handle the exclusion, the insults, the glares, all of it but he couldn’t have you being in the arms of someone else. So he pulled something he’d thought he buried long ago, charming the mayor’s son.

Having an influential leader’s heir willing to bend to his every whim and need made him powerful.

A threat.

So when your mother came to him practically begging for his forgiveness, Ellwick knew this was his chance to set everything in motion. So when you and your brother angrily departed he was prepared.

“The bit of your faction, handselected at my beck and call.”

“Done. You inform us of the policies and actions of the mayor?”

“Policies and upcoming legislation only. I’m not stalking my in-law.’

“Fine.“

“We meet once a month, I’ll come to you.”

“We can do that. Be willing to let your siblings visit you in-home during ermengenies?”

“Yes…I want (Y/n).”

“Excuse me?”

“I want (Y/n).

“You can’t be serious—”

“I am. I want full ownership of (Y/n) their activities, everything. Otherwise I’ll be inclined to fully inform the mayor and police department of what your true business entails.”

“I can’t possibly give you my child! Who do you think I am?!”

Ellwick made a face. Naturally and quickly pulling a gun out of his suit, earning a horrified reaction from his stepmother who was staring at the barrel. It’s not that Ellwick was unaware of the metal detectors and constant pat downs but when you’re a trained assassin this is light work.

“The same idiot, who thought’d I’d always be cleaning your messes. The same idiot who’s been ostracizing me and still put a gun in my hand.”

He moved closer but not close enough for his step-mother’s garrote-technique to be effective. He was almost inclined to reveal his companions ‘guarding her door or the poisoned dart in his cuff link. But he decided it wouldn’t be needed…not today at least.

“The same idiot who’s blind to the abusive alcholic she raised. That is more than likely hurting (Y/n) right now.”

“What’re you–”

“That’s what your first-husband was like, right? An alchoholic who ran the mafia with an iron fist.”

“Enough!...Fine. You can take them with you after your honeymoon.”

“Before.”

“Why would you–”

“Be-fore.”

“....It will be…done.”

When she finished, Ellwick had full intentions to find you. No doubt cooking up a barrage of insults to cutely angrily whisper behind you’re door. But before he could make it to your room, he heard the sound of glass shattering and muffled yelling.

He could only see red. Red as the cut that was bleeding on your skin.

Seems like his role as the family’s ‘cleanup crew’ would come in handy.

#yandere genderbend cinderella #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere genderbend #yandere genderbent #yandere genderbend disney #yandere genderbent disney #yandere genderbent cinderella #yandere mafia au

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meowordeath · 2 months

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A/N: :3 I was inspired to make this because of another post I was reading. This is my first time publicly posting fanfiction, so let’s all keep an open mind if there are mistakes !!

Doppelganger? Francis Mosses x Reader

Warning: Angst? I think this qualifies as angst.

wc: 900+

There is a routine, there has always been a routine. Why is today different, something is different, but what? Something feels off, but everything is in order, you’ve checked, double checked, hell you even triple checked, why does today feel… off? “Darling..?” His voice, did it always sound like that..? Did he always… look like that? He tilted his head toward you, as he slowly lifted his arms up to your shoulders. “Oh Darling. You must be tired. You’ve had a long day at work, rest, I can take care of everything else.” You sigh looking at him. His smile was warm exactly how Francis would always look at you.

“You’re right, I… I must be exhausted, nothing seems to be out of place. I’m sorry, I must look crazy.” You let out an airy laugh as you rub your face. He let out a quiet laugh, moving your hand aside and replacing it with his own. “It’s just one of those days, even if you do look loony searching the apartment.”

You lean forward, resting your forehead against his chest. When did this feeling of something off start to consume you? He didn’t move to embrace you, just letting your head rest on his chest. He slowly eases you off him, turning you around steering you toward the bedroom. “You should rest, whatever was wrong will be alright tomorrow darling.” He said softly. You nod walking to the room, he didn’t follow you.

Time felt as if it was moving extremely slow, the clock was ticking but was the time passing? Changing alone, that felt new, was Francis still wearing his Milkman attire?

The bed was cold, you hated the cold. Francis was warm, he… where was he? You just stared at the ceiling, beginning to darken as the sun had set. Left alone with your thoughts, acutely aware of every noise in yours and Francis' small apartment. Maybe an hour had passed when you heard the soft click of the front door. It’s night, where could he have gone, perhaps he wanted to smoke before bed.

You turn on your side, pretending as though Francis was there. “Today was rough, Francis.” your voice came out in a croak. Francis was facing you, laying on his side. “Mm, tell me what about it was so rough.” You sigh, rolling onto your back. “You’re why it’s rough, stupid man.” His chuckle is slightly loud, it sounds just like you remember. “Mm, really, I don’t remember doing wrong by you?”

You turned your head toward him looking into his eyes. He was still on his side, his face serene like he was madly in love with you. “You didn’t come home, how am I supposed to tend to our apartment by myself asshole.” Francis finally rolled onto his back. “Mm, I don’t know what you mean, I am home.”

You were pulled out of your daze from a click of the front door. Hastily you stand, making your way to the living room. It’s dark, you can’t see a single thing, you can see his silhouette though. Slowly you reach toward a lamp. “Don’t turn on the lights.” He spoke sharply, it wasn’t a request, it was a demand.

“Oh, darling, why aren’t you in bed.” He says exasperated. His silhouette stalks toward you. Your hand trembles, hovering right above the switch of the lamp. You make the move to turn it on lights once more. “You turn on that light, and you will die like Francis!” Your blood turned cold at what he said. “Do you want to die? Francis, sure didn't.” His voice spoke, you knew deep down, you knew this wasn’t Francis, you just were unable to come to terms with it.

His hand went over your own and you could feel a wet sensation on it. “Just go to bed darling, and nothing has to happen. We can forget about all of this.” He… It? It leaned in resting its forehead against your own. You were terrified and also mourning at the news It had told you. “Why… Why did you have to take Francis? My Francis…” You shook as you tried to hold in your grief. “Because it was easy. He delivered right to my doorstep, or well to my old identity’s doorstep. He was just supposed to be a snack, until I saw his memories. He lived in what is quite literally a temporary livestock farm for me.” It let out an excited breath, you could feel it against your face.

“I’d rather not kill you, it may give me away to the D.D.D, but if you don’t go to that fucking bedroom and go to sleep, I will.” It threatened you. You let out a sobbed, before covering your mouth. It had a tight grasp on your other one, it showed It meant it. “I can’t…” You croaked out. “You can, or you will die.” You shook your head violently, ripping your hand from his grasp, bringing them both to your face.

It sighed. “You fool, I gave you the chance to live, at least you’ll be reunited with your beloved Francis.” It says in a condescending tone. You can’t help but cry, both out of fear and anguish. “Before you die, don’t you want to gaze upon your beloved's face once more.” It clicked the light on, not even allowing you to answer. It ripped your hands from your face. You take in the bloodied sight of Francis face, you can’t help but sob once more.

“I’m so sorry Francis.”

hope you like this :3

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses x you #milkman #milkman x reader #milkman x you #milk man x reader #milk man x you

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captainsparklefingers · 8 months

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One of the things I'm taking away from the second go round of Dracula Daily (and particularly from David Ault's excellent performance in Re: Dracula) is how much I like Lord Arthur Godalming.

Like. On the surface and the first time round he stands out the least of Lucy's suitors, and given how much time we hear from Jack, he can come off the most developed. Quincy, of course, gives us a heck of a lot of personality with relatively little (again, compared to how much we get from Jack). Arthur, though, doesn't have the same volume of words to develop, nor the instantly clear personality. He's just Lucy's fiancee, Jack and Quincy's friend, the heroes of light's wealthy benefactor.

But God, this poor man. He's suffered several immense losses in a very short period, been forced to see the woman he loved as a monster, and then had to put her down so she could rest in peace. Beyond the emotional burdens of such losses, he has to deal with the legal matters and the settling of affairs for three different people, probably doing whatever one needs to do to take his father's place in the House of Lords (something I know absolutely nothing about but I assume there's things to do there), AND the earth shattering revelation the supernatural is real, monsters do exist, and the one who killed Lucy is still out there.

And all of that while having to abide by the Victorian standards of manhood. Stalwart, strong, showing no emotions that could make him seem weak.

I think the scene in September 30th, where Mina comforts him and finally he has the chance to let go of all of these burdens he's felt he must carry alone, all of the grief and sorrow he's been forced to carry, he can for at least a moment put aside the mask of manliness society insist he wear and just let himself be a man who has lost his father and his fiancee within days of each other, who is dealing with situations beyond belief.

Obviously we've seen him cry and grieve before but it always felt like he was stifling it to a degree because, well. He only has his male friends to lean on now and the stupid proprieties of society mean he can only lean so much. But now he's had a chance to finally let go, made a connection with Lucy's dearest friend and a new sister of choice. He has his friends, he's finally been allowed to mourn in the way he's truly feeling...and now he's ready to help in whatever way possible to avenge Lucy.

Arthur comes off to me as a very strong character, a man driven by great love, who's emotions, as constrained as they may be, are one of his greatest strengths (and, of course, every good monster hunting group needs a financial benefactor). He's not a flat character at all, he's not forgettable character. Lucy loved him for a reason and, I think, in the moment his grief finally breaks, we get a glimpse at that.

I think that one of the good things of Dracula Daily has been making people realize how good of a character Jonathan Harker is, how pop culture has done damage to the true character of Lucy and Mina…I think we should add that its done a good job of making one care for a character as Arthur, who at first glance seems flat and boring.

Or at least it's made me appreciate him more. And I still want to know how he and Jack and Quincy became friends and what sort of shenanigans they got up to before the events of the book.

#dracula #dracula daily #dracula daily 2: vampire boogaloo #dracula spoilers #dracula daily spoilers #arthur godalming #re: dracula #seriously David Ault has done such a good job with him

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lazycats-stuff · 10 months

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I hope it’s not too weird but can I request batfam a batbro!reader, older than Damian but younger then Tim that isn’t very emotional when it comes to death? Like they don’t understand why people are so hysterical over death. Maybe an animal died and they just go “oh they’re dead” like it was nothing.

Hope ur doing well, I’m projecting so much with this but I can’t wait to see what you do if you do. I love ur writing, can’t wait to read more 🫶

Alrighty then. Thanks for the encouragement.

Summary: (Y/N) is not really emotional about death. Bruce was a little bit worried.

Warnings: talk of death and it's elements, death of animals, this is just Bruce being worried and thinking about his son.

Bruce knew that his kids have some problems expressing emotions. To almost all of them, death was a touchy subject. Bruce knew that better than everyone. But his second youngest son was a whole another case about it.

Why, I might hear you asking? Well, (Y/N) had no reactions to death. Bruce always waited for (Y/N) to get hit with the reality, but the reality and the aftermath didn't hit him. Never. Bruce understood that everyone grieves differently, that was in human nature. There isn't really a rulebook on how to grieve.

No human thought the same and no human grieved the same. But to Bruce, (Y/N) was a whole another case. He loved his son and when (Y/N)'s parents passed, he wasn't really sad. He was... fine.

Bruce waited for the aftermath to hit and he waited for (Y/N) to crumble and he was more than ready to help him and he was more than ready to catch him.

But the aftermath never really hit him. Bruce would be lying if he said that (Y/N) wasn't sad, but it wasn't a normal grieving behavior either. He was so worried that he asked Black Canary to talk to him about mourning and grieving.

Canary said that there was nothing wrong with (Y/N). She just told Bruce that he didn't grive in a normal way, but that wasn't any reason for concern. He wasn't a sociopath or a psychopath.

Bruce could breath a little bit easier. But sometimes (Y/N)'s calm demeanor was the thing that could get him in the most of trouble. It was just recently when a bird that Damian was caring for passed away.

Damian was sad and the rest of the brothers were sad too so they decided to bury the bird in the yard. Everyone made little speeches, expect (Y/N). He didn't see the point. It was just an animal. Everyone was emotional in their own way, expect for (Y/N).

" (Y/N)? Anything you want to say? " Bruce prompted, putting his hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder.

" I don't have anything to say. The animal is dead. That's all. " (Y/N) said, looking down at the tiniest coffin that he has ever seen. Damian fumed. If it weren't for Dick, Damian would have lunged at (Y/N).

Bruce could only sigh and lead (Y/N) away as they were done with the ceremony. He really needed to talk with (Y/N) about being sensitive when it came to death. Sure, you don't have to cry, but still, have some empathy for those who are suffering.

" But Bruce, I don't understand why people are so emotional about death. I mean, it happens. It's a natural process. We are all slowly going towards our deaths. " (Y/N) said after the talk he had with Bruce.

" I know. But people have different approaches to death. Some grieve openly, some in private, but one thing they have in common is that they are all in pain. Animal or a human. " Bruce explained to his son.

" I should apologize to Damian then. " (Y/N) declared, standing up. If Damian doesn't try to kill him first. It was 50/50.

#dc x male reader #dc comics #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batkids #batman x male reader

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conspiracy-crows · 6 months

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Forgiveness

Danny's core pulsed and purred as he wrapped himself tightly around his boyfriend. They snuggled closer, deeply asleep thanks to the soft low rumbling in his chest. It was late, and really he should be asleep as well, but he couldn't. As amazing as his partner, his friends, his new family, had made the day, the ache still sat in his chest.

No matter how amazing his death-day was now. How safe and warm and comfortable he was in his new home after so long. The night was always hard. It always hurt and ached. His scars itched and his mind would refuse to shut down until the early dawn.

His parents. The Doctors' Fenton. Always came to the forefront of his mind on nights like this. The GIW and Anti-Ecto acts were long gone. The Justice League had taken care of that very quickly once he had come to their attention. But the Doctors Fenton did not give up so easily. Even if they were locked up now, their words still haunted him.

"Give me back my SON!" Maddie had screamed, even as Superman knocked the Ecto-Rifle from her hands. "You MONSTER! You may have tricked them, but you'll never trick us! We know better!"

"Mom-" His voice broke, his core ached. J'onn stood next to him, a hand on his shoulder. "Why won't you listen to me!"

He had only just managed to prevent a wail from escaping him as he collapsed into the martian's arms. Clung to the man for dear life the way only a lost, lonely child could. He couldn't watch as his parents were arrested and taken away.

For all he had been almost 20 then, a part of him would always be the scared 14 year old who died in his parent's lab. Would always be the shaking 18 year old who had to dodge blasts and nets from his own parents as he ran away. After he had come out to them as a ghost

He'd never even got to come out to them about the normal things.

The arms around him moved, shifted slightly, pulling him from the memories. There was a rustle as the blanket was pulled up. Danny realized his core had stopped purring, and that always woke Jason up.

"Still awake?" the rough voice of his boyfriend asked softly. "In your head again?"

"Yeah..." Danny replied, snuggling closer into the other's chest. "I miss who they used to be...Or who I thought they were anyway."

"I know... I'm so sorry Danny." Jason's hand gently rubbed his back, the other resting in his hair. "I'm sorry they couldn't see you."

"I just wish... I wish I could still be angry sometimes." He murmured softly. Closing his eyes and letting the tears fall. "It hurt less. To be angry."

"I know..." The other man said, holding Danny closer. Strong hands comforted him as Jason hummed softly in his chest. Still not quite able to get the hang of purring like Danny could.

But there was no going back to the anger. To the hate that had kept him going in that first year and a half, before he had ended up in Gotham. Before he had finally begun to heal his heart, his core, from the betrayal his parents had done.

He couldn't be angry anymore. He had tried so hard for a while. It had been so much easier than letting the grief sweep him away, But the simple fact was, Danny had forgiven them years ago. Not that they would ever find out. Not that they ever could.

Now, the pain washed over him. It got better, little by little as time went on. But grief never truly goes away.

Especially not when you mourn the living.

#dpxdc #danny phantom #jason todd #dead on main

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disneyprincemuke · 2 months

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banana cue + oscar piastri!!

beer * op81

word count: 979

oscar bites down on his tongue, your name still on his tongue. as of right now, he's only got one goal in his mind and that's to get drunk – like he's never experienced in his life. while he prides himself in controlling his alcohol, he simply couldn't see himself doing that tonight.

in the back of his mind is the pot of roses on the window sill, returned to him the day you'd solidified your breakup. he can barely look at it, much less think of the way it's still living and breathing in the same vicinity as him.

in his fit of rage the other day, he'd poured the remaining quarter of his beer pint into it hoping that it would somehow wilt the next morning.

you can only imagine his dismay when he woke up and the roses were still standing tall.

"i hope she doesn't forget," he says in a sad grimace, leaning forward on the table, cheek resting in his palm. his other hand drags the water droplets that's formed on the surface, tracing your name out.

lando, sitting next to him, raises an eyebrow in curiosity. "is everything okay? forget what?"

it's not lando's fault that he's clueless. oscar has yet to admit to his older teammate that he's parted ways with you, the girl he'd sworn he'd marry and live happily ever after with.

the kids he'd planned with you and the house you'd supposedly have built together in the suburbs to fall back on in the future.

that's all gone.

"mate," oscar whispers. he picks himself from the table and leans towards lando, head hung low with an arm loosely slung over the brit's shoulder. "i need you to promise me one thing tonight."

lando hums with furrowed eyebrows, truthfully still not knowing what the australian is rambling on about. “alright?”

“you need to make sure i get super drunk tonight.” he tears himself from lando and drops both hands on the table with a soft thud. “we broke up.”

he takes a swig of his beer pint and hisses at the taste as lando opens his mouth to respond. lando flinches slightly when oscar turns to him with a small grin. “this beer tastes amazing. good choice.”

“thanks?” lando tilts his head. he shakes his head. “what do you mean you broke up?”

“we had to break up,” oscar mutters.

oscar had been mourning your relationship is silence for the past 2 weeks. he hadn’t really known who he could turn to, really.

especially when the breakup had been prompted by his shortcomings, finding his schedule slowly getting harder to fit you into it. he doesn’t blame you for not wanting to stick around for it to free up — you deserve to not be in the backseat.

“she doesn’t want to wait around for me, you know? i’ve barely had the time to be with her,” oscar shakes his head, his hands balling into fists as the day you’d brought up the breakup vividly replays in his mind. “different stages of our lives or something like that, she said.”

he remembers the way you’d cried to him, confessing how much you’d miss him every single time he was away. admitting how much you wished that he hadn’t pursued racing because it was slowly getting tougher to spend so much time away from him.

you’ve got your whole life ahead of you and he couldn’t bring himself to blame you for not wanting to wait around for him.

graduation is right around the corner and life is just about to start for you.

his had already started the moment mclaren signed him into f1.

he takes another big gulp of his beer after he hears your whimper in the back of his mind, telling him that it’s just not the right time to keep the relationship.

“take it easy,” lando pleads, snatching the pint away from oscar gently, rubbing circles on his back. “the beer won’t make you feel any better.”

oscar hums and reaches back out for the pint that lando’s holding away from him. “maybe the beer will help drown my heart then i’ll stop missing her.”

lando scoffs, a hand coming up to try and swat oscar’s hand away. “possible alcohol poisoning won’t help you, i promise.”

“you don’t know that,” oscar hiccups. “the beer is so good, and not strong. my won’t really drown with that.” he drops his head. “but i sure hope it does.”

beer has never been oscar’s favourite drink. he’d found that the bitterness of the drink really helped to encapsulate how he’s truly felt over this entire situation.

he knows that it’s impossible to make it work with you. the vast difference in your current stages of life made it so difficult to connect at times; he’d felt you slip out of his grasp the moment he found success in his sport while he’d left you behind while you were still planning out your own future.

“you take a break after this pint,” lando grunts, putting the pint back down on the table. he inches towards the end of the booth they’re sitting in. “don’t go anywhere, mate. i’m going to get you a glass of water, alright? i got you.”

oscar watches with downturned eyes as the older man slips out of their booth, leaving him with his thoughts. he glances at his phone on the table as he takes another swig of his beer.

now he needs to decide: to continue drinking this god-sent beer, or tell you that he misses and loves you.

celebrate 4k with me!

@33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #dpm 4k celly

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dragon-kazansky · 2 months

Text

When the raven calls

Morpheus x Female Reader

You, his raven, die protecting Jessamy while rescuing the Dream Lord. When Morpheus returns to his realm, he mourns your loss, only to find a stranger waiting for him in his throne room. The stranger claims to be you, now in human form. He doesn't understand, but his raven will always watch over him.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter}

Chapter Thirteen - Glass heart

☆☆☆

"Dream..."

Morpheus moves his head slightly to the side so he can see you over his shoulder in the corner of his eye. Your voice was soft, and he would linger on it if he wasn't so... upset about you leaving.

"I did not say you could go to her."

You can hear the warning tone in his voice. To anger the dream lord was never a good idea, and you hadn't intended to anger him, though knowing what you did what do as much.

"I know. But, I cannot allow you to kill her."

"She is the vortex. She could destroy everything." He turns so he's facing you properly.

"Maybe she won't!"

"I'm not talking the chance to find out!" He raises his voice. "She has the ability to destroy everything. Everyone." His voice goes soft at the end.

"She's barely an adult. It's not fair..."

"When did you come to care so much about the mortal?" He asks.

"When I found out what you intend to do." You look him in the eye. "I am asking you to find another way."

"There is no other way."

"Kill me in her place. There must be some way I can swap places with her." You say desperately.

He stares at you. The silence is heavy and you have to wonder what's going through his head.

"Kill you...?" The words part from his lips in an almost whisper. He can't believe you would ever say such a thing.

"I have died for you before, I would do so again. This time, I offer my life for hers." You say, standing firm.

He still can't believe what he's hearing.

"No."

"My lord-"

"I will never take your life. Ever. Do you understand me? Not for any reason. The day you died... a piece of me died with you. Even after we met again in your new form, the image of you on the floor... in your own blood, it never left my mind. I swore to myself I would never let that happen again."

You stand there, tears threatening to fall.

"My lord... I cannot stand idly by while you dare take the life of a young woman who only wants her family back. If... if you're going to go through with this... I shall never forgive you."

Morpheus swears his heart shattered. No words have ever hurt so much. At least, n words from you had ever hurt him so much.

"Fine."

He can't find it in him to argue with you, to fight with you. If he must live with your anger toward him for the rest of time, so be it. He accepts this punishment.

You're not quite sure how to feel right now. You didn't think he would just accept your words. Did he know you were just upset not actually going to hold this over him forever? You're not entirely sure.

"Fine." You repeat.

You walk away.

Morpheus watches you go.

☆☆☆

You sit in the library. Perched on the table as you stare intently at the books on the shelf in front of you. Your leg swings restlessly back and forth.

You're agitated, anxious, upset.

There was no stopping Morpheus, and you had told him you would never forgive him, but you know deep down that wasn't true. You loved him too much to ever stay angry at him forever. It was hard to be eternally angry at him, you were sure of it.

However, in this moment, you were still upset with him.

Lucienne walks in and finds herself confused by your appearance in the library. She glances around to find you here alone.

"Are you alright?"

Startled by her voice, you look up quickly and stare at her for a few moments. Your mind settles and you look back at the books.

"Fine. Just fine."

Lucienne is unconvinced by your words and comes closer. You resist meeting her gaze again as she comes to stand in front of you, blocking your view of the bookshelf.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

You sigh softly.

"Lord Morpheus found me and told me he was still going to go ahead with killing Rose... I... I don't want him to. I don't want him to kill anyone."

Lucienne's expression softens. "What else?"

"I... told him I would never forgive him if he went through with it."

"Oh, come on now. We know you didn't mean that."

"I think he believed it." You tell her softly.

Lucienne looks slightly concerned. She reaches out and takes your hands in hers. You lift your gaze to meet her eyes.

"Lord Morpheus is a stubborn old fool who still follows a lot of the old ways. But if there is something I know for certain about him, it is he cares deeply for you, and he would never do anything that would ruin that bond you both share. I am certain there is another answer to play here. We just need to find it."

You say nothing as she let's go of your hand and turns ro her books.

If only you could believe her words.

☆☆☆

Unity Kincaid has fallen asleep. She finds herself in a grand library, her hand brushing against the spines of the books that sit on the shelves next to her.

She is searching.

Lucienne sees the woman searching among her books and approaches her. "May I help you?"

The library doesn't often get visitors from dreamers.

"Oh, yes, please. I'm looking for a book."

"We have every book ever written, as well as those yet unwritten." Lucienne says proudly.

"I'm looking for the story of my life, had things turned out differently." Unity says.

"I have detailed accounts of sleepers' dreams."

"No. No, thank you. I've had more than my fair share of dreams." She tells Lucienne. "I want to read about my unlived life."

"I'm not entirely sure we have those volumes."

"If you have every book ever written, and every book that will ever be written, it must be around here somewhere." Unity says.

She walks to the opposite shelf and spots the book immediately. "There I am." She pulls the book from where it sits and opens it.

"You're Unity Kincaid? Rose Walker is your great-granddaughter?"

"Yes. How'd you know Rose?" Unity asks.

Lucienne looks at Unity with a column expression.

☆☆☆

"Death is not always such a bad thing." Morpheus tells Rose. They stand in the lands that were once full of beautiful meadows. "You could stay here if you like. My raven was once a mortal."

Though he referred to Matthew, his mind thought of you. You had never been mortal. You just appeared as one. He had to shake you from his mind for now.

You would never forgive him, even if Rose accepted his offer.

"Wait! Sir!" A voice calls out.

Gilbert comes running over.

"Gilbert? What are you doing here?" Rose asks, confused by his sudden appearance. She did not yet know of his true identity.

"This is Fiddler's Green." Morpheus says.

"You? You're a Dream?"

"I am." Gilbert nods. "I, I left my post here to experience life as a human being." He explains. "A life which I humbly offer in exchange for yours."

Morpheus feels his heart sink. You had tried to do the same. His Dreams were all trying to protect Rose Walker.

"I'm afraid that's not possible." Morpheus states. "For the Dreaming and the waking world to live, the vortex must die."

"Then what's the point of a vortex?" Rose asks. "Why do we even exist?"

"Honestly..." Morpheus can't answer for even he doesn't know.

"I have a theory," Gilbert starts. "When a human is at the center of the Dreaming, is it not to remind us that we exist because humans dream, not the other way around? The miracle of humanity itself should always be more vivid to us than any marvels of power."

"I cannot find it in my heart to punish you for leaving Fiddler's Green. But it is time you took up your appointed position once more." Morpheus says fondly.

"It would be my honour, sir. It was enver my intention to abandon my role."

"What was your role? Who were you?" Rose asks him.

"Oh, my dear, Fiddler's Green is not a who. It is a where. I was not a person. I was a place." He explains. "And after your death, of you stay in the Dreaming, visit me. Walk in my meadows and my green glades. Rest beneath my trees."

Morpheus smiles slightly at his friend.

"Farewell, Rose Walker. It was a privilege being human with you."

As Gilbert opens his arms, his form begins to drift apart, turning into many many butterflies that fill the air. The ground turns green with luscious grass, and the hills become full of life. The area is so green and beautiful.

It truly is a dream.

Morpheus stands there and looks at the young woman in front of him. If there was any other way he would take it. He didn't want to her hurt her. He didn't want to hurt you.

"I do not wish to take your life. But we all have responsibilities and this is one of mine."

Thunder rumbles in the distance.

"I am sorry."

"Just do it." Rose says. "Whatever it takes to save my brother and my friends. I'm ready."

Morpheus raises his hand, much like he did to the Corianthian. He stares at Rose, watching the way she accepts her fate.

"Stop!"

Morpheus turns and sees you standing there. You look flushed as if you had ran here. Behind you is Lucienne and a woman he does not recognise.

You stand between him and Rose. His eyes stare into yours with longing.

"Unity?" Rose looks at the other woman. Morpheus can't bring himself to look at anyone other you.

"This is Unity Kincaid," Lucienne says. She's not entirely sure the dream lord is listening, but he is.

"I am Rose's great-grandmother."

Morpheus moves his eyes from you to her. You remember to breathe now you are no longer looking at his deep, beautiful eyes. You find your footing and glance at the other women, trying hard to focus.

This tension between you and Morpheus was growing, and you needed to control yourself.

"According to this book, I was meant to be the vortex of this age." Unity holds up the little book.

When Lucienne found out who Unity was, they went through the book together. Lucienne did not hesitate to come to you and explain everything, stating there may yet still be a way to save Rose and fix your problem with Lord Morpheus.

"But because you were imprisoned and locked out of the Dreaming, that fate was handed down to my descendants."

"I don't understand," Morpheus mutters softly.

"You're not very bright, are you?" Unity sighs. "Come here, Rose."

Rose goes over to Unity. "I want you to reach down inside yourself and give me whatever it is that makes you the vortex."

"But how?"

"You're dreaming, darling. Anything is possible." Unity tells her softly.

Rose looks down at herself and then carefully inserts her hand into her chest. You watch with baited breath as she searches for that thing. Slowly, she pulls out what appears to be a glass heart with a storm swilling inside of it.

A heart you had seen before.

Unity takes it and holds it in her hands. "Thank you, Rose."

Morpheus regards the heart and then looks at Unity.

"I am the vortex now, Dream King, as o should have been long ago." Unity exclaims. "So, leave my great-granddaughter alone."

Unity looks down at the heart. Everyone else does, too. It begins to crack in her hands. A blinding light floods out of it, and Morpheus has to catch Unity to stop her from falling.

"Unity?" Rose speaks her name.

"What happened?" She asks.

Morpheus looks at her gently and speaks to her in a calm and soft voice. "You died. So that Rose might live."

"I'm so sorry." Rose looks at Unity with despair.

"No, don't be. I'm not." Unity tells her. "I was meant to have died a long time ago, Rose. But if I had, I would never have met my golden-eyed man, and we would never have had our beautiful baby girl, and you would not have been born."

You look at Unity with a sense of dread.

The look on Dream's face tells you he knows too.

"Wait, the father of your child had golden eyes?" Morpheus asks.

"I've never seen anything like them." Unity says.

"I have."

Desire.

"Goodbye, Rose, darling." Unity says. They hug.

"You and your brother are children of the Endless. You have suffered enough." Dream tells Rose. "You may leave this place. Goodbye, Rose."

Rose wakes up.

☆☆☆

You ruffle your feathers as you perch on your bed. He had kept the room. Despite everything, he kept the room. You were kind of glad.

Though you still weren't sure you wanted it. You were debating asking him if there was a way to remove your human form completely, but you were too scared to ask.

Dream was currently in his sibling's realm dealing with the fact that Desire had sired a child with Unity and had almost made Dream kill one of their blood.

It was a nasty business.

Still, Rose lives. Yet, you find yourself wondering if there was a way to take back your words. Granted, he didn't kill Rose, but you still said out loud you would never forgive him if he had. You can still see the pain in his eyes when you close your own.

There's a knock at your door, and you look at it, startled. Maybe if you keep quiet, whoever it was would leave. You had an inkling he had returned and was seeking you out. You were not ready to talk to him yet.

"I know you're in there."

His voice was like smooth velvet. It was sound you could never tire of hearing. You wanted him to read every book there was to you just so you could lose yourself in beautiful voice.

"Come in." You call out meekly.

The door opens slowly, and he steps in. Morpheus finds himself disappointed to see you in your raven form.

"I told you to get rid of this room." You say, looking up at him through your little beady eyes.

"Yes. I couldn't." He comes to stand beside the bed.

You both stare at each for a while before you speak again. "Did you need something?"

"We need to talk."

You feel dread full your tiny body. "Oh."

Morpheus breathes softly and quietly. "Person to person."

You knew he wouldn't let you hide in your raven form. As a human, you couldn't hide your feelings, your expressions from him. He would see you as you were.

With a flap of your wings, you transform. You sit on the edge of the bed. Morpheus' lips twitch slightly at the sight of you.

Beautiful. Simply beautiful.

He takes a seat beside you on the bed, noteavjng a whole lot of space between you. His coat brushes along your leg. His hands settle between his knees as he looks at you.

"I have come to apologise." He says.

You look at him with caution. He supposes you have every reason to be wary. He does not apologise often.

"I was doing what I thought was right. What needed to be done to protect everyone and everything. To protect... you."

He watches the way your browser creases. The cute little knitting of your brows as you try and comprehend his words.

"I would never forgive myself if I ever upset you beyond forgiveness. You have been my most trusted ally from the very beginning, and without you, I am hopeless. I... I watched you die once. I do not wish to ever see that happen again. Flying off to look over Rose while the Corianthian roamed nearby was not your wisest choice. Nor do I fault you for having a heart."

You drop your gaze to the ground in front lf you.

"I... I wish to have you by my side for eternity. I wish you remain as you are, perfect in every way. I wish to hold your hand and see your eyes as they are now. I wish to call your name and see you smile at me."

He slowly reaches out, and you watch as his fingers slide of yours with such gentleness. His hand slowly cups your own and guides over to his lap where he covers your hands with both of his.

"I wish you to allow me the privilege of falling in love with you as I have recently found myself doing so."

Your eyes find his. His which are so blue and so full of stories and emotions. Your lips part as you stare at him intensely.

"Will you allow me that honour?"

"Huh?" It's the only sound you can find yourself making.

"Will you allow me to spend an eternity making it up to you? An eternity begging for your forgiveness and your affection?"

Dream does not grovel for anyone, but for you, he would get on his knees and beg a thousand times.

"What are you talking about?" You ask softly.

One of his hands leaves yours to reach up and caress your cheek softly. He looks at you so closely. His head is closing in, inch by inch. He is so close. So warm.

"I am asking for your forgiveness."

"You already have it," you whisper.

"Then I ask for your love."

You stare at him. "Love?"

"Yes." The word leaves his mouth so softly. You almost didn't hear it. "Can I?"

You inhale quietly. All those feelings, those new emotions, were starting to make sense. The way your heart ached for him. The way you wanted him to look at you. The way you needed him to speak your name.

You had been falling in love with him from the moment he first touched you in this form.

The way he held you down in Hell. The way he reached for your hand when the Corianthian was threatening everyone. The way he looked at you now.

"Yes."

Morpheus smiles as he leans in the rest of the way and lets his lips meet your own. He wraps his arms around you carefully and pulls you into his chest. He needs to feel you against him.

You return his kiss as your eyes close. Your hands come to rest on his shoulder and bicep. You lose yourself in the feeling of his soft plump lips.

When the kiss comes to an end, he rests his forehead against your own and speaks softly. "It will not be easy, loving an Endless."

"I know," you say.

He smiles. "Yet you'll love me anyway?"

"Yes. I don't think anyone could ever stop loving you, Morpheus."

He chuckles. Perhaps your words are true.

"I will look after you."

You shake your head. "It is not me who needs looking after. You need someone to keep you in check."

You both chuckle.

"Yes. Perhaps I do."

You lean forward and claim his lips again. Morpheus does not hesitate to pull you in close again.

☆☆☆

It is true what he said. It was not going to be easy loving Dream. Your love would be tested by ghosts of his past and unforseen circumstances.

However, that's a story for another time.

For now, his love is all yours. And yours is all his. Inevitable.

☆☆☆

TO BE CONTINUED WITH SEASON 2

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@ladyofketterdam

@thoughtsfromlayla

@modest-irish-goddess

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#when the raven calls #morpheus x reader #the sandman #female reader #dragon writes

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thebadboyfanclub · 1 year

Text

She Has Your Eyes Pt. 1 (Daemon x Reader)

Alright man, this was entirely too long to put in one part, this is only part one and it’s 3k words long so let’s see how this part goes and we figure out the rest

The north has always been quite different when it came to their traditions, there was no exceptions or favouritism when it came to their children, especially when the children where Starks, to be born in the house of the dire wolf it meant you would be as strong as your sigil, daughter or a son it had no meaning

The tourney in the north was held in her honour for her 15th nameday, every house send a representative to take part in the duel, how could they know? It was not often that they had the chance to hold a stick against a Stark lady.

When Daemon got up on his horse to fight against her he had made the mistake of underestimating her, foolishly assuming that he should go soft on lady (y/n), to say he was surprised when he got knocked off quite violently was an understatement, he could still remember (y/n) taking off her helmet and her dark raven hair falling out, her strong features and tall build was compelling.

“Such a shame, I expected better from a dragon”

Her chuckle as she toyed with his reputation was a thing that would usually make his blood boil, however he laid there dumbfounded, “what a woman” he had thought as she trotted around on her stallion, the armour shined under the sunlight and Daemon had finally found his worthy opponent.

“You did well lady (y/n)”

“Well? I could have easily slashed your head off your shoulders”

“I am very thankful you refrained from such act”

“It’s a pretty head”

“To be on my shoulders or served to you in a silver platter?”

“I have yet to decide”

“I know the hour is late, although it just came to me that we have yet to present you with a gift”

“I do love gifts”

“Follow me my lady”

When (y/n) was met with Caraxes a audible gasp escaped her as she came to a halt at the Dragon being a few feet away from her. Daemon only took her hand in his to guide her closer to his dragon, Caraxes remained calm until (y/n) came close enough to sniff her, (y/n) felt her blood freeze out of fear something that did not happen often, as Caraxes appeared to accept the princess since he did not try to eat her.

“How did you know your dragon would not try to kill me?”

“I did not”

“You fucker”

The experience of riding a dragon was euphoric, the sense of freedom it brought while (y/n)s entire body shook from joy and a small dosage of fear was intriguing to Daemon, feeling her nails dig into him as she held for dear life was a scene for sore eyes, Daemon had never experience such emotions for a woman prior this.

Alas as the small folk say “all good things come to an end” and Daemon had to depart from the North, memories are such a funny thing, he could swear it was yesterday that he gave (y/n) a sweet deep kiss and got on his dragon, heading back to kings landing his stomach was turning as the red keep got bigger and bigger, when Caraxes landed Daemon wanted to throw up, he brushed it off as anxiety now he would say it was his body trying to warn him, an instinct some would say.

King Jahaerys was a king of justice, (y/n) leaned on that trait to ease her nerves at the suggestion of her being betrothed to Daemon. However Jahaerys was also a calculated man, the north was a strong force but they were never a problem, so a marriage alliance was not needed, runestone though needed a match, a union to ease the bad blood.

“Why would they say no? I am an eligible match”

“You are the perfect match my love, I guess we were… late”

“So, this is goodbye”

“I am afraid… it is”

(Y/n) could not find the strength to walk away, neither could Daemon and there they stood gawking at one another, it was (y/n)s eyes which were filled with tears that caused a reaction out of Daemon to pull her in his arms, to caress her hair as her body trembled from the sobs.

“Do not mourn me my love, I will always be with you”

Daemon had no idea of how his words would take form in a love child, (y/n) was locked up in her room for the entirety of her pregnancy and her mother was the one that tended to her instead of servants. People talk, the family could not risk the rumour of a Targaryen bastard that belonged to a married prince it would tarnish (y/n)s reputation and even be the sole cause of a war, they kept her safe until they could figure out what should they do next.

Ayleen came into the world during a snow storm, (y/n) was in labour for a full day until the babes wail was finally booming through the room, (y/n) was so exhausted that she could not even hold the small babe, her mother had to assist her so (y/n) could take a good look of her first born.

“She looks like him”

She had whispered with tears falling like a stream on her flustered cheeks, choking on sobs that no one could identify if they were from joy, relief, pain or sadness, (y/n) herself was not aware as of why was she crying in her mothers arms, cursing herself for allowing her heart to lead her and her womb for creating such a perfect thing that would not know what the true meaning of a family is.

Daemon was at the other end of Westeros, so far from his princess, still that cursed night he could not get a wink of sleep, tossing and turning in his bed tormented by images of the Stark lover calling for him while in pure agony, they had been bind for life and now he was absent at the birth of their first born, but he could feel every lick of pain, every grunt and push like he was there.

It was the only time Daemon got on one knee to pray, asking for the old gods and the new to save his lover from all harm, to shield her and spare her, even offering his own life instead of hers.

Daemon was a ghost of himself, he had left all life and warmth in the north, (y/n) was all he could think about, what was she doing? Was she dreaming of the way they laid together? Has she found a husband? Was she happy? A man that was known for his unquestionable lust for women and their presence to warm his bed was now feeling sick at the mere suggestion of bedding another woman.

The one time that he tried to get Rhea to bed to at least consummate their marriage after downing all the wine he could find Daemon flinched at Rheas touch, harshly pushing her to wobble out of her room, falling on his knee in his room and repeatedly apologising to his true love.

The morrow of that day he rode his dragon to go North, nothing was worth such agony, he must go to her or else he would die, the closer he got the colour in his face appeared, it resembled a spell he was under that would only be resolved if he was with her.

“Where is (y/n)?”

“Not here”

“You are lying, why are you keeping her from me?”

“Prince Daemon”

“Fuck off with all of that, I want to see her”

“Daemon?”

Her voice barely above a whisper from behind him took him out of his trance. Once he turned to finally see her his jaw hit the floor, she was holding a child, a tiny creature wrapped up with blankets, Daemon was confused and slightly hurt, has she already moved on? Whom was it that impregnated her? She found the gall to bed another man?

“This is Ayleen, Ayleen this is your father”

“Father? Is she”

“Yours, ours”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You are married, I did not want to cause trouble in your”

“Unconsummated marriage”

(Y/n) was left speechless, she had found peace with the idea that she would never be around him again, she had their child, a part of him and a token of their love, she had mastered the strength to love the babe enough for the both of them.

Daemon approached her by dragging his feet, the second he could fully eyeball his daughter it was the moment he felt his heart beat so hard he thought it would come out his throat, she was so fragile, barely the size of his entire arm.

“May I hold her?”

(Y/n) let out a laugh at the question, slowly and with careful movements for the first time Daemon held his daughter, “Ayleen, my love child” he kept repeating in his brain.

“She is… I would kill for her”

“Let us hope we do not have to go to that”

“I missed it, I was not here, I could not… help you”

“I do not hold grudges Daemon, you couldn’t have possibly known”

“I failed you”

“You gave me a daughter”

“No I did not, you did it, you blessed me with the most amazing gift”

They both yearned for one another, like two moths attracted to the flame, unfortunately everyone knows how that story ends, howbeit for that moment, those very few days Daemon spend in the north with his love and daughter he had been ecstatic, to wake up next to her or see her put the babe to sleep while sitting in her rocking chair, softly signing a lullaby, every waking moment was his new found treasure.

“Give her this, it was my mothers and my grandmothers before that”

(Y/n) placed a necklace on Daemons open palm, she could barely hold herself up from the despair of being separated by her firstborn, “it would be better this way” (y/n)s mother attempted to soothe the girl that cried at the decision of Daemon taking their daughter to kings landing, deep inside she could understand the reason behind it, even that how could a mother not be in shambles over this? It simulates the pain of her heart being ripped straight out of her.

Daemon kept his daughter close to his chest as he walked in proudly to the throne room interrupting another “important” event, he couldn’t care less for what was occurring, the presence of his daughter was far more important. Viserys was stunned, to see your own brother strut in after so long with a child was shocking.

“I would like to present to the court, my first born daughter,princess Ayleen Targaryen, first of her name”

“Gods be good, the princess of runestone”

“No, princess Ayleen was not conceived in the Vale”

“If she is not from your wife… then”

“She is my daughter, a Targaryen, that is all that matters”

“My dearest love,

I hope this letters finds you and our daughter well, I have missed you dearly, the memory of the sound of your breathing while you laid next to me has been my lullaby as a drift off to slumber ever since you left the North.

You must find the strength to forgive me for not writing to you sooner, I pray you understand it has not been easy for me to adjust with you and our sweetling being away from me

I come with the best news, the Gods have blessed us with a son, a healthy little boy named Saemor, he was born 3 moons ago, I did not inform you due to how difficult this pregnancy has been, we feared he would not make it out alive.

Me and Saemor will be waiting for your arrival, come to me my love and bring our daughter with you, let us be a family even if we both know it won’t last long

Yours truly,

(Y/n)”

Daemon took this as his way out, to finally be free of the bronze Bitch and be with his true love, the mother of his now two children. When Daemon announced his departure so he could summon his second born Viserys was livid, a state that Viserys rarely took.

“Another bastard! You have stained our name forever”

“They are my rightful heirs”

“They are bastards, from an unknown woman whom you have repeatedly denied of mentioning, a low life whore you yourself are too embarrassed to reveal”

That was the last thing Daemon needed to hear, his lover had gone through one of the most painful experiences alone, frightened as her life was in danger, she survived and came out of it victorious, the scene of her holding their frail son burned his mind enough to send him over the edge.

Daemon pulled out his sword and attacked his on brother, the steel of black sister shined under the light as Daemon let it rest on Viserys neck, the king was certain he was about to be killed while Daemons eyes were demonic.

“She is my love, my beautiful wife that owns my heart, I should take your head for merely suggesting she is of low rank, I was cursed to marry a woman I despised while you were free to take the woman you loved”

“You are a mad man”

“Mayhaps, but one important rule is to never tell a mad man that they have gone mad”

Daemon was a man that had committed plenty of crimes, to kill your own brother, your blood, no that was beneath him. He pulled away his sword and just walked away, he was sure that Viserys would banish him, send him and his daughter away, Gods know what that cunt of a man Otto had whispered in his brothers ear, poisoning their bond forever.

None of it mattered any more, all he did was take his daughter up in the sky while she held on her dragon egg tightly and fleeted to his love, his Stark lady for refugee.

(Y/n) had seen Caraxes fly above her home, at once she was up on her feet and ran outside to greet him, she had not changed one bit, she was as ravishing as he remembered her to be, his soulmate wrapped her arms around him before he could even firmly land on his feet. Her embrace was all he needed to finally be able to breathe again, relief washing over him, she was alive and well, that itself meant that he could be happy.

“Ayleen, oh my precious little wolf”

“She said her first word”

“Did she? What was it?”

“Mama”

(Y/n) gasped at the word, her daughter called for her and she was not there. (Y/n) balanced her daughter in her hip as she plastered kisses wherever she could find skin, she was finally whole again, with both of her children and her Daemon United, like a true family, to gaze into (y/n)s eyes was a dream itself, though to be able to view the scene of her holding their daughter was the biggest achievement of them all

“She has your eyes”

“She has your hair, a true Targaryen princess”

“I would much rather is she had inherited your hair, to have a little stark running around the castle and cause trouble”

“Come, you must see him”

As time went on Daemon and (y/n) were in their own little world that tasted like berries and cream, Daemon would take his family up in the sky even the small babe that would nestle in his fathers arms had grown accustomed to flying, the only way they could make him sleep was to take him up to Caraxes and fly in circles.

(Y/n) would sleep holding on to Daemon like he would slip out of her fingers during the night, as the cold of the North brought them closer clinging on to the heat of each others bodies and layers of covers protected them the shimmer of the fire made her look even more beautiful, Daemon would often stay awake just a little while longer so he can gawk at her, stroking her dark hair and whispering all types of things to her.

(Y/n)s head rested on his chest she found it comforting to listen his heartbeat, it was the only way she felt like their moments were real and they weren’t just figments of her imagination.

“He will be a menacing knight”

“What if he wants to be a poet?”

“Then he will be a menacing poet”

“No, our boy will be gentle and kind, like his father”

“Have you gone rogue? Or are you hiding something from me?”

“You are the most gentle person, you think I don’t notice how you tuck our boy in his bed? You are my sweet dragon”

(Y/n) whispered in Daemons ear before he kissed her bare shoulder, Daemon and (y/n) could not get enough of each other, the tension between them compelled them to crave the other ones touch, holding hands as they experienced the road of pleasure, neither of them knew when they would have to separate again so they started clinging to the present moment for dear life.

“Don’t start rumours about my gentleness I have a reputation to uphold”

“What that you are the scary ruthless rogue prince? You have never been that, you are loving, caring, protective-“

“And hungry for my lover”

Combined by a yelp coming from (y/n) before she could even defend herself her back was on the bed with daemon laying on top of her, a soft grin decorated her lips while she gently tucked behind his ear a loose strand of his silver locks.

“I really missed you”

“I missed you too my sweet”

Daemon had grown accustomed to living in the North, just being able to bask in her aura was enough for him to be content with his new way of life. That would be his first mistake, life has tricky ways to sneak in to your dream and remind you who is really in control, Daemon had to once again ride his dragon away from his beloved family, war had ensued and he was called for aid in the Stepstones, he could deny it, he should deny it.

Requests are open!

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firelxdykatara · 3 months

Note

I too ship Zutara and think they should have been canon. Although for me it's important to know how such a rewrite would go down. I tried to think, and I'm lost.

After Mai betrayed Azula for him, will he just go "sorry, not interested"? He isn't obligated to date her because of this, but her redemption hinges on Zuko and I don't see it being satisfying if he ends up rejecting her after this.

I thought the solution would be to rewrite her arc in boiling rock to make her have a moral realization, but then the problem with Maiko is practically solved. Their relationship wasn't salvaged by her redemption because last time they talked, Mai still didn't understand what's wrong with the Fire Nation and only changed because she loved Zuko. So how do you make it both satisfying & logical?

With Kataang the problem is the Chakras. The problem with the original (in my opinion) is that after he opened his chakra, letting go of his attachment to Katara, he's still attached (forcing a kiss on eip). Should TCoD get rewritten so that Azula shoots him before he opens it? Then why wouldn't he just open it later? Maybe the chakra would be locked so he feels as though he doesn't need to overcome his attachment just yet. In that situation, how would his chakra even unlock? The stone thing felt like nonsense, so how would I do it?

So yeah I have no idea how to approach this. How would you? (Thanks)

I've been rotating this ask in the back of my head like a rotisserie chicken for a few days--it's interesting because I don't generally stop to think like, how would I write them out of these relationships, I either ignore the relationships completely (which isn't hard, they were barely footnotes in the cartoon) or play a little bit with jealous exes or something. Thinking about like, In A Perfect World where Bryke wasn't in charge of ATLA post-canon (because if zutara had been canon, you can be sure they would've made us regret it) is interesting, and I do have thoughts on how I'd handle their relationships in a rewrite.

(this got long, so the rest is beneath the cut)

Assuming you mostly want to keep canon intact, I think maiko would be the easiest to work around, given how little relevance their relationship has in canon. The problem with maiko as an endgame ship is that it was not set up that way--if it had been, it would not have begun entirely off-screen and their whole relationship would not have been a study in misery and utter inability to connect emotionally. His relationship with Mai was there to showcase just how much he had changed and how little he fit into the life he had been so sure he wanted more than anything since his banishment. It worked very well to highlight Zuko's growth--how that contrasted to Mai's lack of it and why she could not understand him even at his most open and vulnerable--and did not work nearly so well when she was shoved back with him in the epilogue, after he'd quite literally forgotten her existence (he never mentions her again after Boiling Rock, not even to say a word of mourning, considering he'd have every reason to believe she was killed for defying his sister).

I don't think you can fix this by giving Mai some moral realization, because there simply is no room for it. As @araeph says in the essay I linked:

As a character, Mai is very useful to the story during Zuko’s return, because she represents everything that Zuko gains by sticking by his father. A girl who cares about him; the ability to indulge her; the authority he has over others at the palace; we see it all in his interactions with Mai. But this makes Mai a tether to a life he has long outgrown. Her function is not to advance Zuko’s character development, but to obstruct it, which also unfortunately means that Mai gaining a full understanding of Zuko’s trials would be disadvantageous to the story. If she knew everything about him and still wanted him to stay, it would give Zuko more cause than he should have to remain in the Fire Nation, but if she knew and encouraged him to leave and join the Avatar, it would rob Zuko of the triumph of making this decision on his own. In other words, there are good narrative reasons for keeping Mai in the dark; it just doesn’t make their relationship any stronger.

The seeds of a genuine redemption arc (one that includes some sort of moral realization and change to her moral framework) for Mai would have to have been planted far earlier than five episodes from the end of the series, but doing so would have of necessity detracted from Zuko's own character arc and the realizations that he makes despite his attachment to Mai (or more specifically to their relationship, which I feel like he was clinging to more out of a sense of abject loneliness he couldn't shake rather than genuine feelings and emotional connection).

So, in my mind, since we're tackling this with an eye towards getting rid of maiko with the fewest ripples to the overall story anyway, the easiest way to do this would be make one slight change to the end of the Boiling Rock two-parter--have Ty Lee (who had always been the least gung-ho of the trio about bowing to Azula's whims and had to be textually threatened into joining her in the first place) save Zuko's life, and then have Mai (who showed the most genuine affection for Ty Lee anyway) save Ty Lee. I love Zuko more than I fear you always fell flat for me as some epic declaration of love, anyway, since a) Zuko is not around to hear it, and b) unlike Ty Lee, she never showed much fear of Azula to begin with, so it wasn't a very high bar to clear. It was a cool line that was entirely unearned, and I don't think it would be missed, there would be some cute mailee crumbs this way, and a throwaway line of getting them released from the prison after the war ended could wrap up their presence in the story pretty nicely.

Now, kataang is a little trickier, if only because the last leg of Aang's character arc is almost completely derailed by his refusal to let go of his possessive attachment to Katara, to the point where he never naturally reopens his chakras, he has to have the Rock of Destiny hit him in just the right place, and the deus ex lionturtle there to give him a way out of having to make a hard moral choice. (I've maintained for years that if you work the final act of your main character's overall arc in such a way that it could have been solved by one good session with a chiropractor, something got fucked along the way.)

The thing about Aang's chakras is that, narratively, his whole thing with Guru Pathik and leaving his training early to save his friends was basically his version of Luke running away from his training with Yoda on Degobah because of his Force vision, only to find out that his friends were in the process of rescuing themselves and then losing his hand because he hadn't completed the most crucial part of his training. What's missing, therefore, from the last act of Aang's character arc, is the return.

See, in Star Wars, Luke pretty explicitly makes the wrong choice when he chooses to prioritize saving his friends over attaining enlightenment and fully mastering the Force. It was the only choice he could have made, but it was still the wrong one--because, like Aang, his friends did not actually need him to save them, he actually almost makes it harder for them to get away by requiring them to save him because, like Aang, he loses a battle in a very critical way. This was a lesson he desperately needed to learn, and it is clear he has learned it by the time he makes it back to Degobah and witnesses the end of Yoda's life, his own enlightenment having already been reached.

But Aang never goes back to the Guru.

And the text refuses to allow us to sit with the fact that he made the wrong choice in prioritizing his attachment to Katara over his ability to master the Avatar State. He is actually narratively vindicated about it, because the plot bends itself into a pretzel so that he doesn't have to spend any time during the last book trying to reopen his chakras and regain access to the Avatar State, handed both in the final battle with no excess effort on his part, and handed the girl into the bargain. (The girl who never even wanted him, so far as we can tell from all the lack of cues she gave him that she actually returned his feelings.)

And I think this could have been solved with a few scattered scenes. Let Katara actually have some agency in her own romantic relationship (or lack thereof), insofar as noticing Aang's advances and clueing the audience in to how she actually feels. Let Aang struggle with the fact that he can't reach the Avatar State, that his mastery of the elements is in limbo because he can't access his full power, rather than ignoring all of this until the end of the show. If we're trying to keep the shape of the last season roughly the same, let Katara confront Aang about the invasion kiss.

This would have been the perfect time to establish that Katara actually does feel some type of way about Aang prior to the epilogue, and it could have saved us from the exceedingly cringey EIP kiss that Aang never apologized for. How it comes across now, of course, is that Katara basically pretends it never even happened, to the point where she doesn't even know what Aang is talking about during EIP until he reminds her--the death knell for any shot their relationship had at looking requited, because I can tell you, as someone who's been a teenage girl, if someone I had conflicted but burgeoning romantic feelings for had kissed me, I would not have completely forgotten about it only a few weeks later--and we never get any indication as to what she actually felt about the kiss (which was not mutual, despite what Aang's dialogue in the EIP scene implies) except for the fact that she looked away and frowned afterwards. (A change mandated by Bryke, who wanted to leave her feelings completely ambiguous; the original storyboards had her smiling to herself.)

So, with an eye towards wrapping up Aang's puppy love crush and establishing Katara's distinct lack of romantic feelings for him, have her talk to him about the kiss. A good frame of reference for this would be Meng's conversation with Aang in "The Fortuneteller", where she finally realizes that he doesn't like her in the same way she likes him. Katara and Aang's conversation about the invasion kiss could be a callback to this, with Aang having some important realizations--that just because Katara doesn't share his feelings doesn't mean she loves him any less, and just because he can't have her the way he wanted doesn't mean he has to love her any less, that she doesn't belong to him but that's ok, because she's still his family and they'll always have each other's backs. Which could have functioned well in helping him take another step towards unblocking his chakras. Going back to the Guru directly may not have worked, since by this point in the story we're hurtling towards the final confrontation and Sozin's Comet, but let Aang reflect on what the Guru told him with new understanding granted him by his experiences throughout the first half of the season.

To keep the stakes high and up the suspense, obviously, he shouldn't have fully unlocked his chakras and the AS before the final fight, but the seeds could be planted--little moments like a talk with Katara about the invasion kiss, maybe a little more empathy and understanding from him about why Katara needs closure in TSR, etc--and then, during the final fight, rather than hand him all the answers on a silver platter, have him almost lose. He still can't go full Avatar, he's out of time, he still doesn't know exactly what to do about Ozai given his own pacifism and desire to preserve that part of his culture--he tries to fight but he's pretty quickly overpowered. Idk how I would've animated this, and maybe it wouldn't have looked as cool for the final fight, but the true climax of the finale was the Zuko and Azula agni kai anyway, so it hardly matters--I'm picturing him doing the rock-shield thing and going into a brief meditative state, where he finally achieves the enlightenment necessary to unlock the AS on his own, no rock of chiropracty necessary. And at this point, I'd give Ozai a Disney Death, since leaving him alive causes more problems than it solves and it's not necessary for Aang to kill him for him to die--they're fighting on a mountain ffs--but if you don't want to change that part then him figuring out energy bending as part of becoming a fully realized Avatar would at least feel more earned than the lionturtle just handing it to him. (And that could've been foreshadowed better by seeding the idea for it earlier in the season.)

After all of that, particularly if you up the emotions during the agni kai and have Zuko and Katara kiss there (or something less explicitly romantic but still tender, like a brief forehead touch), it'd feel pretty natural to have a just friends ending for Aang and Katara. Maybe a brief, slightly awkward but ultimately amiable conversation if Zuko and Katara had a ~thing at their final fight, and then the final shot of the series could be the gaang all together, maybe zutara holding hands or Katara resting her head on his shoulder or something, but since they already kissed there wouldn't feel like a need to end the whole show on romance, something which I've always felt missed the point of the series.

And then, y'know, after that, the world's your oyster! This is how I'd do it if I were trying to keep the bulk of the final season intact. Of course, breaking it all down to its component pieces and rebuilding from the ground up is also an option, but that'd probably be a longer post lol.

#zutara #atla #m.aiko salt #k.ataang salt #atla canon rewrite #hey albert kim if you're taking notes on how to do season 3 of the LA................#Anonymous #asked

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stormhearty · 4 months

Text

Pairings: Former Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Triggers: nightmares, mentions of blood, death, depression

Summary: It has been several years since your death and your tenth death anniversary is coming up once more. It had, and always will be, a difficult time for the Inner Circle — the regret and remorse evident in the River House. Even though it had been a decade, the evidence of the loss of your light still echoed heavily throughout Pyrthian. Here are how the Inner Circle copes and mourns during the death anniversary.

Note: From this request! Thank you for sending this request and for loving Pushed to the Edge! I do hope this is a bit of extra angst for the ending. It's mostly in Azriel and a bit of Rhysand's POV. We all know that Feyre mourns often the reader's death (since she goes to Day Court during the burial), so I thought it would be good just to mostly focus on Azriel's and a bit of Rhysand's. Also, the meanings of the flowers I placed in the description for Helion’s ceremony for the reader’s death:

Calla - beauty Cattail - peace White Heather - protection Purple Hyacinths - sorrow Ivy - affection White Poppies - Consolation, eternal sleep Tea and dark crimson roses - Mourning and I’ll always remember Sweetpea & Cyclamen - Goodbye, departure Amaryllis - Pride Pink Carnations - I’ll never forget you Iris - Your friendship means so much to me

I hope you all enjoy!

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

His hands shook as they dripped in blood, warm and sticky. Hazel hues followed the trail of blood to a familiar body.

A cry of grief escaped his lips as he crawled over to your body, Truth-Teller piercing through your chest. Your body was unmoving from its prone position. Azriel gently cradled your body in his arms, tears blurring his vision as he looked at your features — one that was etched with so much pain that his heart ached at the sight of it.

“I’m so sorry, my love… I… I’m sorry that I abandoned you, I’m sorry for my infidelity towards you… I’m sorry that I killed you. I’m just… so sorry…” He was sorry for many things. There were too many things he could apologize for but none of them he could whisper to you to bring you back to him. He would have to pay for his transgressions for the rest of his immortal life — the Gods would never give him another chance with her; the Gods would never gift him with another mate as amazing as her.

He was about to press another kiss against your forehead only to watch shadows, his shadows, rise from the ground and slowly start to wrap around your body.

Azriel growled at them, “Leave us alone, leave her with me.. that's all I ask. Don't you fucking dare take her…!”

They didn't listen to him as tendrils of darkness fully wrapped your body before taking your body in whips of shadow. He tried to grab your body before it disappeared but failed.

“No…!!!”

Azriel woke up with a start, chest heaving as he painted, his hand stretched out as if to grab something — your body — from the shadows. His body wracked with a strong shiver, before he slumped against the headboard, a groan escaping his chest as he ran his hand over his face.

Another nightmare.

Every night, for the last decade, he would dream of you — in all different scenarios — ones he would have you in his arms, in bed, sweet and gentle moments; others ( and most of the time ) it was your death, feeling the echo of the mating bond resonate in his chest, watching your body die in his arms, or even watching himself stab you through your heart.

Ever since that fateful day, he has not gotten a decent night’s sleep. Dark circles stained underneath his hazel eyes and those hazel eyes, that used to shine for you, have dullened. Very little things had made him brighten up nowadays — probably the only thing was the birth of his nephew, Nyx. And Nyx has been the only thing that has kept him surviving all these years — along with living with the guilt and pain of your death.

Azriel let out a muffled sob, pressing a hand against his lips as he allowed the nightmare to pass wracks of shivers through his body. Hazel hues shifting from his sweat-stained bed to the large floor-to-ceiling windows, the glow of the full moon beaming down into his room.

He knew he wasn't going to get another wink of sleep tonight. Slipping out of bed, bare feet pressing against the cool wooden floors, he slipped on a simple black tee and sweatpants before stepping out of his room, and down the spiral staircase to the massive garden of the River House.

Azriel usually avoided the gardens, knowing that Elain would be there tending to them.

Their relationship was non-existent at this point. After your death, he cut off all contact and interactions with her, feeling disgusted with himself with even just the sight of her.

For the first couple of months, Elain tried to rebuild her relationship with the Inner Circle; however, after her lies were exposed, it had been a tough road. Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel had ignored her, to the point that Rhysand had ordered Elain to live in the old Townhouse to give comfort to the rest of the family. She would only come to the River House when Feyre would ask her to help tend the gardens. Otherwise, even the Archeron sisters had little contact with the middle sister.

Azriel’s feet led him to a familiar part of the gardens, the only place he would go to that would calm the echo of the empty mating bond in his chest.

After your burial, Feyre sent the image of the statue that Helion had created in your making to the Inner Circle. And in honor of you, Rhysand made one as well — a statue of you, but in Night Court fashion — the opposite of your image in Day Court. Wearing a dark blue dress, one covered with stars, with a moon circlet on your head.

Azriel basked in the statue’s liking to you, seeing the moon’s light radiate behind the statue like a halo made him smile — just a tiny bit. He shifted, sitting down on the bench that was in front of the statue. He leaned forward, pressing his elbows onto his thighs.

“…Hi my love…” he whispered as he looked up at the statue, “Another nightmare… brings me to you.”

A sigh escaped his lips as he felt tears prick the edge of his eyes, and he blinked to fight them away. He has fought so many tears every night, that Azriel felt like his whole body had dried up with how many tears he had shed since your death. He knows he shouldn’t complain, that his grief was evidence that he deserved all the things he had done to you. We all will continue to live with our betrayal. Live and regret, as Rhysand and Cassian told him that day.

Staring back up at the statue, his eyes glanced up at the twinkling stars above Valeris and muttered the singular wish, a wish he had wished for every year, “I hope that at Starfall I will see your light twinkling in the skies above, where you will streak across that beautiful night sky, finding your peace…”

After sitting in front of that statue for several hours, he decided to fly up to the House of Wind to the training balcony and train there. He forgone his black shirt and focused on his training, using every ounce of pain and grieving to train. He stayed up there, time passing quickly until he felt the claws of his brother scrape down his mental shields. Azriel sighed and looked up at the bright blue sky, not even noticing how the day had become midday, the hot sun beating down against his sweaty skin.

“…Azriel…” a light, airy voice called his name.

He let out an animalistic growl before he grabbed his shirt from the chair he had flung it onto, slipping it on his form before spreading his wings to fly. He heard the quickened steps, seeing Elain in his peripherals, the middle Archeron’s sister’s eyes begging at him to look at her.

“…Stay away from me, Elain… I swear to the Gods, if you try to look for me again, I’ll have my High Lord and High Lady dump you on the borders of the human realm to leave you to their discretion…”

Elain frowned at him, stepping into his view, “You cannot put all the blame on me. I have tried to win you and my family’s graces back… I don’t know what I can do to get on your good graces again…”

Azriel glared at the Made-Fae, “… No, I cannot put all the blame on you, I blame mostly myself on falling for you. I never realized why I had after being mated to (Y/N) for nearly fifty years… I could have had my forever with her… And yet, my blind infatuation with you cost us that. I don’t want to do anything with you, as my way to repent… my way to live and regret for the rest of my immortal life without her…”

With one last glare, and without letting the Made-Fae say anything else, Azriel shot off into the mid-day sky, waving through the cool air of Valeris and back to the River House. He landed on the balcony and entered, walking into the large dining room where his family was situated. He noticed the solemn air that coated the room as he sat down in his usual spot, next to Mor and across from Cassian. Hazel eyes wandered the table and noticed the absence of his High Lady.

Rhysand noticed the look from his Spymaster and answered the unasked question, “Feyre went to Day Court this morning…”

That was all it took for realization to hit Azriel — it was your tenth death anniversary this week. A shaky sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back against his chair — ten years without your light. No wonder he felt horrible that day, no wonder why his nightmares seemed to be worse than ever before.

It was as if his subconscious knew.

Azriel knew that after this breakfast, he would be able to crawl back into bed and cry there — he didn’t have to do anything for the rest of that week. He would be able to wallow in his depression in the comfort of his room.

Rhysand, after the first year of your death, had declared that week a period of silence — a mourning period that allowed Valeris and most of Night Court to grieve over your death. To repent and live. It was a week where he didn’t send anyone on missions, and stores throughout Valeris were closed over the week.

The Inner Circle ate in silence, the clattering of silverware was the only thing that echoed in the grand space. No one said a word, though Azriel could feel the shifting gazes towards his way. His fingers gripped the silverware in his hands, feeling the metal bend in his strength. A frown tugged on his features, suddenly losing his appetite. He placed the utensils down, the evidence of his slight anger on the bent pieces of metal, before standing up.

He could see Mor, in his peripheral shift slightly. Azriel huffed slightly, unaware of the looming energy he was radiating until he felt a tap against his mental shields. Hazel eyes looked over to his High Lord who had given him a raised brow.

“Reign in your anger, brother… We are just worried, as usual,” Rhysand had whispered into his head.

They know how hard it has been for him over the past decade. The Inner Circle had been present through every nightmare, every depressive episode, every self-loathing that Azriel had gone through — and is still going through to this day. All of them had tried to help him lessen the burden of regret; however, they knew that the Spymaster would never let anyone shoulder his pain — not when he was the cause of it.

Azriel felt his tears line his reddened eyes, “…I know, and I thank you for that, brother… May I just grieve on my own… May I be excused?”

Hazel and violet eyes stared at each other for a moment before Rhysand nodded his head, “I will tap on your shields again when Feyre is at the ceremony…”

His head nodded before the Spymaster stalked out of the dining room, feeling all eyes on him. He climbed up those spiral staircases again before entering his bedroom with a slam of his door. A shiver wracked through his body, eyes shutting close as he tried to prevent another breakdown. He shuffled his feet, towards the bed and lay there.

He will never be okay — no matter how many decades, how many centuries have passed, he will always feel that emptiness of the bond in his chest. He would never feel you tug on that golden string that connected the two of you, nor he won’t hear your laugh whenever Cassian or Mor would tell you a joke. He won’t feel your fingers trace along his scars or place ointment on his hands whenever they were cramped and strained after a mission.

There were days — which were the worse of them — when he would hallucinate you were still alive. In that very bedroom, he would feel, smell, and see your very figure walking through that room. He could see your light, he could hear your voice… but whenever he would reach out to try to hold you, touch you, you would be gone in a whisp of light.

Azriel hated those days. He would find himself in a heap on the ground, crying. His brothers or even Mor would find him in that state at the end of the day and would plead for him to go to bed and rest. And with their help, he would lay in that large bed, bigger than his wings would span out to, to just stare at the expanses of that ceiling. Rest would never come to him easily anymore, not without a tonic from Madja or if Rhysand would slip into his mind and coax him to sleep.

He would continue to live on as an empty shell — one that would continue life without feeling your light.

Rhysand let out a shaky breath after Azriel had left the dining room, a hand running through his dark locks as he slumped against his chair.

It had been difficult, the last decade was like walking on broken glass around Azriel. The High Lord knew that his brother was suffering, but Rhysand also knew it was the consequences of his actions — of all of their actions against (Y/N). All of them, especially himself and Azriel, would continue to suffer for it.

Rhysand was thankful to the Mother that Feyre had been there throughout the past decade to help shoulder the pain, to shoulder the regret. And he had tried to do the same with Azriel; however, the former Shadowsinger wouldn’t let anyone touch him, wouldn’t let anyone help him through his emotions. And he watched as Azriel broke himself apart because of his pain. The High Lord watched every single day, every year, for the past decade, his brother becoming a shell. Even when he had sent Azriel on missions, the Fae would come back, finishing his assignment quickly and swiftly, though Rhysand could see blood and bruises that contrasted against leather.

Every time, every single time, Azriel had returned from those missions, Rhysand had seen the increased amount of wounds against immortal skin. And when confronted, Azriel had whispered in truth, “It’s the only time I feel pain… To feel the echo of the pain against my skin… Any other time, I can’t feel anything…”

That had broken the High Lord.

He had banned, much to his dismay and Azriel’s anger, the former Spymaster to go on said missions. He had changed Azriel’s title, and became an emissary, along with Mor to the Continent. Azriel hated him — and probably still hated him to this day. But it was the only way to keep his brother from hurting himself, from being hurt, and to keep his family together — as much as possible.

The High Lord stood up from his chair, giving a small smile to his family as he left the dining room and walked his way to his office, allowing the silence to seep into his body. Rhysand busied himself with work, the only thing that would occupy his time and mind during the week of mourning. If he didn’t, he would, like his brother, be stuck in his mind — in his nightmares — of failing you as your High Lord.

He felt a tap of his mental shields, his mate scraping and sending down a wave of love towards his end.

"Are you okay?” Feyre asked him and Rhysand leaned against his chair and allowed his mate to send visions of her time at Day Court.

“I think so… Just, trying to keep myself occupied you know. How is it at Day? How is Helion?”

“He’s probably the same as you and Azriel.. all of us, mourning. But he’s keeping up appearances, he is ensuring this year’s ceremony will be grand. It is her tenth year being gone from this world…”

Rhysand wouldn’t hold it against Helion if this ceremony would be a grand, beautiful one to celebrate your life… to mourn for your death. You had, after all, deserved it. You had risked your life, your light, to protect all of Prythian… you had to be celebrated one way or another.

He watched the vision of the grand Day Court halls, lined with Calla, Cattail, White Heather, Purple Hyacinths, Ivy, White Poppies, and Tea and dark crimson roses — all flowers that echoed the sentiments of all of Prythian. It was a gorgeous sight, one that Rhysand wished to see in person. Tears pricked his eyes as he wiped them away with a finger, as he felt another wave of support from his mate.

"Be safe, darling Feyre… If you need me to take Nyx, do just call me… I can take him from your hands…"

A small laugh echoed, and in his head he could see the image of Nyx standing next to his mother, looking up at the golden statue of you.

"I think he deserves to know who she is, Rhys… He will be fine…"

With one last tug on that bond, Rhysand closed the connection between the two of them.

A book, he had thought, a book would be good to immortalize your story. With ink and paper, he started to write… determined to ensure your story would be known for centuries to come.

A tap against his shields started Azriel from his stupor. He straightened in the armchair he had occupied in his bedroom, eyes darting to the window to see what time of day it was. He hadn’t slept for the past few days, his nightmares plaguing him even while awake. He would mindlessly walk around that room, keeping himself occupied to keep the nightmares at bay. He didn’t sleep, he hadn’t showered — he wallowed in his sadness.

And so when that scrape of darkness against his mind startled him out of his sadness, he lowered it slightly to allow his High Lord to send him the vision that his High Lady was sending him.

Tears pricked at the edge of his eyes as he saw that magnificent statue of you at your grave.

Oh, how he wished and begged for the Mother to allow him, even for a brief moment, to bask in that golden statue — to feel Day Court’s sun mimic the warmth that you had always radiated.

He watched from that armchair the ceremony, hearing Helion speak so fondly of you. Azriel could hear the High Lord’s voice crack and break at every mention of your name. He could see the pain in his features as he talked about how it had been ten years since your death. He watched as Helion looked at that statue with so much fondness — a father, mourning the loss of his child.

The ceremony lasted a couple of hours, allowing people to walk up to the statue to place all types of flowers on top of that gravesite. He watched as the familiar hands of his High lady held up a bouquet — a mixture of Sweetpea, Amaryllis, Pink Carnations, Cyclamen, and Iris — to the statue before placing it down on the grave as well.

He heard her whisper words of fondness, love, and regret before stepping away and back to her spot in the crowd.

The last thing he heard, was from his nephew, who whispered to his mother, “I wish to have known her… She is well loved, even after she has died…”

That had choked not only Azriel up, but he could feel the pain in Feyre’s voice as she looked down at the boy who was merely ten years into his immortal life.

“…I wish you could have known her as well, Nyx… She was a light in everyone’s life. She had made your uncle’s life the best it had been when she was still with us. We wish we could have done so much better to her…”

Azriel watched as Feyre caressed the black locks of his nephew before the vision passed. And all Azriel could do was cry — cry his love, his sorrow, his regret.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #acotar angst #azriel x reader #azriel angst #( .inbox request : death anniversary )#( .one shot : pushed to the edge )

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