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autumnshighlady · 9 months

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I’ve Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 15)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: Azriel has a tough decision to make

warnings: Night Court slander, semi graphic torture, Rhysand is horrible, the usual

word count: 5.8k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: oh my god i am so so so sorry this took so long! life has been insane lately i havent had the energy to write. Anywho, this chapter is just the start of something super big so buckle up and look for hints hehe alsO PLEASE GIVE FEEDBACK ON THIS CHAPTER IM BEGGING

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinions, i’m more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // part 9 // part 10 // part 11

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AZRIEL POV

Azriel couldn’t help but flinch at the sight of your limp body, arms strung up like you were a piece of meat dangling from the chains. He had thought himself to be good at shutting off his emotions when it came to his line of work, but this felt different. Wrong, even. It confused him – not once had he ever hesitated, ever even considered disobeying his High Lord’s orders down in these dungeons.

Your hair was matted and lifeless around your face, the weak rise and fall of your chest being the only indication that you were even still alive. The beautiful gown that adorned your body at the ball was now tattered and dirty, barely clinging onto your skin in some places. Azriel gulped as he stared at your unconscious form, wiped out from Rhysand’s attempts to penetrate your mind.

Evidently, the High Lord was beyond frustrated, his brow furrowed and sweaty from the efforts. “I’ve never seen this,” He muttered, running a hand through his dark hair. “Not once. I’ve always been able to get inside people’s heads. Why not hers?”

“I don’t know.” Azriel responded. He felt his shadows curl around his scarred fingers. Normally they did so to encourage him to get the job done, but this time felt different. It was as if they wanted him not to end your life, but to reach out and free you from the shackles. But he ignored them.

Rhys slumped against the wall, panting slightly. “I need answers, Az.” He snapped, voice sharp. “How is this girl able to withstand my magic? And how the hell did she access some ancient spell that allowed this bond to form with Nesta? I would prefer to know before I end things, so whatever shit she may have put in motion can be stopped.”

Azriel stiffened. “End things?

The High Lord sighed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on, Azriel. You know this is how it has to end. She spent months plotting against our court, and possesses some form of magic within her bond with Nesta. She’s a threat and you know it. And threats like that must be eliminated.”

He spoke with that authoritative voice that Azriel had seen bring so many others to their knees in obedience. He felt it tug at his bones, the instinct to obey his High Lord. Azriel had always considered himself loyal, never needing that extra kick to submit to his superior. Until now. “I disagree.” Azriel said sternly. “(Y/N) has lied, yes. But she has shown no signs of intending to inflict harm upon this court. All she wanted was to get out, and she knew we wouldn’t let her.”

“I don’t recall you being this blind, brother.” Rhysand’s voice was low as his violet eyes sternly stared down his spymaster. “Did she flash you her tits during training sessions? Is that why you’ve suddenly gone soft?”

“No. I think we pushed her too hard, too fast into this job she did not want. She had already lost everything in the Spring Court, and when Lucien brought her here she immediately became a prisoner. Did you expect her to bow at your feet and be eternally grateful for letting her stay here? We should have given her a reason to want to become a part of this court, not force her into it within a span of months.”

Rhysand let out a growl, and Azriel knew he was pushing his limits. “Careful, Az.” He said. But Azriel ignored him.

“Can you blame her for resenting us?” The shadowsinger continued, against his better judgement. “Our High Lady destroyed her court, and when Lucien brought her here she was forced to live indebted to the female who allowed her home to be ruined.”

There was a low rumble within the cell as Rhysand’s dark mist began to creep out from behind him. “Choose your next words wisely, Azriel. Or I’ll begin to think you’ve helped her.”

“I didn’t, and you know it. But your protectiveness for your mate is clouding your judgement as a leader, Rhysand. This girl does not deserve to die for what she has done.”

Before he could breathe another word, a sharp pain cut through his throat as Rhys’ dark power wrapped around it, cutting off his air. Shock flooded through him, hazel eyes bulging as the violet eyed male snarled at him. He didn’t try to fight back. Not once had his brother gone this far – sure, they had their fair share of nasty fights, but never like this. No matter how angry they had gotten with each other, neither had ever threatened the life of the other. Until now.

“That is not your call to make, spymaster.” Rhysand snarled furiously. “I am your High Lord before anything else, and you are sworn to me. My word is law, not yours. You will go and search for more insight into this bond between her and Nesta. Whether you find anything on it or not, (Y/N) will die by your hand at dawn tomorrow. You will not protest, and you will not breathe a word about this to anyone. If I sense even for a second that you will disobey me, I will throw you in a cell beside this scheming whore. Am I understood?”

Azriel nodded as best he could, body still frozen in shock. After a moment, Rhysand’s tendrils finally retreated, leaving the spymaster gasping for air. Despite working alongside him, being the executioner to his master for over 500 years, Azriel had never known what it was to be like on the receiving end of his High Lord’s pure fury until now. He glanced over at your strung-up figure, guilt churning in his gut. You had endured this torture for days, a torture Azriel only received a glimpse of.

As the spymaster inhaled deeply kneeling on the cold floor, his shadows whispered to him. He knew deep down that he had a choice to make, one like never before. 500 years of loyalty to Rhysand was being put to the test, something Azriel never thought would happen. Another glance at how intensely Rhys was staring at your imprisoned, starved form was all he needed to winnow away.

*********************

Azriel’s throat still burned from the pressing of Rhys’ dark mist. He kept his demeanour calm as he approached the doors to the library at the House of Wind, even though his stomach was in a thousand knots. He knew what he was about to do was treason at the highest order, and the second Rhys found out he would be flayed alive. The clenching and unclenching of his scarred fingers was the only indication of his disturbance as the spymaster was met with Clotho. Her pale robes shone in the blue light of the library as she approached him.

Shadowsinger, Her elegant writing appeared on the paper in lieu of her voice. What can I do for you?

“I need to see Gwyneth.” Azriel said, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice to not alarm the priestess.

Gwyn is occupied right now. May I take a message?

He gulped nervously. “I’m really sorry, Clotho. But I need her right now.”

That will not be possible. I suggest you return at another time, Azriel.

“Please.” Azriel hated begging, and hated pushing the priestess even more. But before Clotho could script a reply, a gentle voice sounded from behind the shelves a few metres away.

“Azriel?” Gwyn’s red hair appeared, streaming down her flowing robes as she carried an alarming amount of books. “What are you doing here?”

“Gwyn, I need to speak with you in private. Right now.” He pleaded, hoping Clotho wouldn’t shoo him away.

Gwyn’s teal eyes were puzzled, but she nodded. “It’s alright Clotho.” The priestess merely nodded beneath her hood before turning and disappearing back into the stacks.

Azriel breathed a sigh of relief as Gwyn put down the books. She walked towards one of the offices, and he followed her in silence. The room was tense as she closed the door behind him.

She crossed her arms, which made him halt. Normally his interactions with Gwyn were pleasant, leaving his shadows singing happily afterwards. But the way she was staring at him with a hardened glare made him want to shrink back.

“Where is (Y/N)?” Gwyn said sharply.

Azriel took a deep breath, unsure of how to approach this. He didn’t know what version of that night at the Hewn City had reached the ears of the priestesses. “Gwyn–”

“Don’t bullshit me for one second, Azriel.” The redhead was unyielding, but he could see the anxiousness within her as her throat bobbed with every word. “Nesta left for Autumn with Eris, but (Y/N) never returned from the Hewn City that night. What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything–” He started, but Gwyn cut him off abruptly.

“I said don’t bullshit me, you fucking liar!” Her voice rose, long fingers clenching and trembling with anger. It was enough to make Azriel take a step back, shocked at the fire within her. “I heard you grabbed her and whisked her away that night. What the hell did you do to my friend?”

Azriel leaned against the desk, wiping his face with his hand. His heart cracked a bit, knowing that trust and companionship he had built with Gwyn while training had come crashing down. He hated himself for it, for being so blind in following orders that led him to this place. His loyalty to Rhysand came at a price, one he had always been willing to pay until now. “I’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I was following orders.”

“What is wrong with you?” Gwyn hissed, her words cutting him sharper than Rhysand’s magic had. “You took away her one chance of leaving this gods damned court peacefully. You took away her freedom out of stupid, blind loyalty.”

“How did you know what happened that night?”

She snorted. “You and your little circle like to treat us priestesses like we’re these fragile little flowers living in our own little shelter, oblivious to the outside world. But people talk, and word reaches us. We aren’t as ignorant to the court as you think we are.”

“I never said that you were.”

“You basically just did.”

Shame washed over Azriel. He knew she was right, that he was a prick in assuming the priestesses remained clueless to what was happening in the court right now. And that’s why Clotho had been hesitant to let him into the library. “I never meant for any of this to happen.” He muttered, closing his eyes.

“Well, it did. Now tell me where my friend is, and why you’re here.”

Azriel took a breath, preparing to utter the words that would make this decision the point of no return. “I need everything you have on the bond between (Y/N) and Nesta.”

A flicker of worry crossed Gwyn’s teal eyes. “I don’t know anything–”

“Yes, you do.” Azriel interrupted her calmly. “My guess is you knew about their plan as well. Otherwise you’d be a lot more freaked out by Nesta marrying Eris.”

As panic began to set into the priestess’ face, Azriel softened his voice. “It’s ok, I’m not going to tell anyone. It makes sense that any information that Nesta and (Y/N) got on the bond was through you and your work. You are not in trouble, and nobody will hear from me that you helped them. I just need every scrap of information you were able to get your hands on regarding whatever magic they used.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So you can give it to your master like a good dog playing fetch? Not gonna happen. He’ll use it to hurt both of them. I don’t care that he’s the High Lord, I won’t let him do that.”

Azriel stood up and took a step towards Gwyn. She didn’t shrink back, but rather lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “Gwyn,” He began. “That’s not what this is. I’m not retrieving this information for Rhysand.”

The priestess blinked once, as if considering the gravity of his words. He wished he could spill the truth and tell Gwyn what he planned to do, but just uttering those words directly to her would put her at risk. “Then who are you retrieving it for?”

“Look, I am not trying to hide anything from you. But I told you… if you knew the truth, I would be putting you at risk for selfish reasons. And after all I have done, that is something I cannot live with. You just have to trust me when I say that it is for the right reason.”

“After hearing about how you so quickly stole (Y/N) away, I’m not sure if we have the same definition of the right reason, Azriel.” Gwyn’s voice was bitter, but there was a sadness to it that made the guilt churning inside of him threaten to spill over.

“I understand.” He said quietly. “And you have no reason to trust me right now. But please… if you’ve ever had any faith in me at all…just….just know that I’m doing this for (Y/N). And Nesta. If you believe anything I say, believe that.”

Silence overtook the room, the shadowsinger and the priestess standing mere inches from each other. After a long few minutes Gwyn muttered a ‘stay here’ before quickly fleeing the office.

She returned 15 minutes later with a few sheets of parchment paper and several books. They were placed upon the dusty table, and Gwyn took a deep breath. “This is everything I have on the subject,” She said shakily. “It’s not much, but it’s every document that could possibly give anything away about the bond between them.”

Without thinking, Azriel dropped to his knees in relief, bowing his head. “Thank you, Gwyn. Thank you.” His entire body was on the verge of shaking as the weight of what he was about to do began to truly set in. Everything he had known and defended was about to be put on the line.

“Promise me this, Azriel.” Gwyn spoke coldly. “Promise that this information gets into the right hands, not the wrong ones. You do whatever it takes to help my girls. After everything you and your family have done to them, you owe them that much. And more.”

“I swear it.” Azriel said solemnly, still looking at the ground. In a flash, he felt a cold blade pressing against his jaw, tilting his head upwards to gaze at the priestess. She looked like a goddess of justice, staring down at him with icy eyes.

“And I swear this to you,” Gwyn said coldly, a silver dagger in hand. “If you screw this up and they pay the price for it, no power in the world will stop me from hurting you. I don’t care that you trained me, or that you saved me on that day Hybern came. I will cut your throat if anything happens to Nesta or (Y/N) because of you. Understood?”

Azriel was enthralled at her strength. This was not the shy, nervous priestess that he had rescued from Hybern’s soldiers. Gwyn’s bravery had excelled since the second she stepped into the ring, and Azriel had marvelled at her progress during training, how comfortable she became with the outside world. Stupidly, he had credited that to his and Cassian’s training, thinking that it was what Gwyn, Nesta and the others had needed to heal like he and Cassian had. No, this strength had nothing to do with what he taught her. Behind her stern expression, Azriel knew that deep down this strength had come from the friendship formed with you, Nesta, and Emerie. He had been a fool to see it as anything other than that.

“I’m proud of you, Gwyn.” Azriel said softly before his brain could shut him up.

Despite the flicker of surprise across her face, she did not yield. “I do not need your validation. I need you to do the right thing and help my friends. Only after that will your statement be worth anything to me.”

Gwyn removed the blade from the spymaster’s throat and turned on her heel. Like a ghost in the wind, she was gone. Azriel’s chest was tight as he stood up, collecting the documents in his arms and praying that this possibly very stupid decision would be worth it. But after seeing the anger on Gwyn’s face, the hurt he had caused without even realising it…. Azriel knew exactly what he needed to do as he winnowed away.

*********************

The door in front of Azriel opened before he could raise a hand to knock, revealing the redhead male with a golden eye wide with surprise.

“Azriel?” Lucien said in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” Was all he said in response before pushing his way past Lucien into the manor.

“By all means, come in.” The male muttered sarcastically. But Azriel paid it no mind as he scanned the large living room for any sign of Jurian and Vassa.

“I’m alone.” Lucien quipped, settling down on the large brown armchair by the fireplace. “Since that’s what you were trying to figure out. I’m surprised you came by before (Y/N). I thought she’d have visited already, but I guess she’s been enjoying Velaris too much to be slumming it down in the human lands. When you see her next, thank her for the scarf for me, will you?”

Azriel’s heart dropped, head whipping sharply towards Azriel. “What?” He didn’t even bother keeping the surprise out of his voice.

Lucien frowned. “The scarf she gave me for the solstice? Rhys delivered it a day or so after, said she was busy on a new mission and asked him to drop it off for her.”

“Rhys was here?” Dread pooled in Azriel’s stomach. His High Lord was ensuring your disappearance would be quiet, giving him time to create a cover story before eliminating you.

“Yes… Why do you look so concerned? What aren’t you telling me?”

Azriel put his head in his hands, cursing. “You have no idea what’s been going on, have you?”

Lucien was still as a statue as he spoke. “I haven’t heard from (Y/N) since I got to the manor. When Rhysand visited, he said she had picked out a scarf for me as a present, and that she was sorry she hadn’t visited, but that she was loving her life in Velaris. And that she was training under you to work for the Night Court as a spy.”

Any desire to be secretive flew out the window as Azriel explained everything to the Autumn male – how you were not freely living in Velaris, but locked away with Nesta in the House of Wind. Your time spent back at the Spring Court to spy on your own people. Nesta’s engagement to Eris as a cover to escape the Night Court. Lucien was usually a collected male in Azriel’s eyes, but he could see the disbelief and anger in his expression as he told him the truth. When he was done, Lucien leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, speaking in a low voice. “So you’re telling me that you locked away my best friend, and everything I’ve heard about her for these past few months has been a lie.” Lucien said. “Is that correct?”

“Yes.” Azriel said quietly. “And now I’m trying to fix it–”

“Fucking hell!” Lucien exclaimed sharply, standing up abruptly and pacing back and forth. “Your court is a fucking shitshow, you know that? How the fuck can you let this happen, Azriel? You’re so far up Rhysand’s ass you didn’t see any of this coming?”

“I understand you’re angry–”

“Oh angry doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Lucien hissed, his red hair gleaming in the light of the fire. “You played right into Rhys’ hands, and now (Y/N) is being tortured in a cell somewhere because you let it happen instead of growing a fucking spine. And that doesn’t even begin to touch on the fact that Nesta was treated so horribly by you people she was willing to marry ERIS out of all people just to get away from it.”

Azriel had no defence. Defeated, he hung his head. Lucien was right about everything, and it was made worse by the fact Rhysand lied about your status to him knowing that the Autumn male was the only one likely to try and do something to stick up for you.

“Now what I can’t figure out is why you’re telling me this.” Lucien folded his arms, glaring at the spymaster. “You’re either betraying Rhysand and trying to fix this mess, which is brave but incredibly stupid. Or you’ve come here to see if I somehow had anything to do with all this so you can hang me up in a cell next to (Y/N). Which is it, shadowsinger?”

”I need your help.” Azriel admitted, meeting his harsh gaze. “I’m trying to turn this around, but I need to track down Eris. You’re my only shot.”

Lucien let out a harsh, heartless laugh. “I figured. You need my help. If you thought I wasn’t going to be any use to you, I wonder if you’d have even come here and told me the truth. Or would you have just let me live on believing this lie until word got around about (Y/N) meeting her tragic end on some mission.”

Mentally, Azriel was exhausted. Two redheads ripping him a new one was beginning to chip away at him more than he was already crumbling at the weight of his decision. Like Gwyn, Lucien was right. While he respected the male, Azriel doubted he’d have even considered coming just to tell Lucien the truth about what happened if he didn’t think Lucien could help. And his moment of silence told Lucien all he needed to know, for he scoffed again. “Of course not,” He continued. “You people just love exploiting those of us without any other options and then throwing us away like garbage when we’re no longer of any use to you.”

“Then help me make this right.” Azriel pleaded. “Tell me how to get to Eris, discreetly.”

“Can’t you just free her yourself and take her to safety?”

“No, there are ancient wards in that prison. I can pass through quickly and easily, but not so much with another person. Rhys would find us within seconds if she left that cell, and kill us both.”

“Then how do you propose we get her out?”

Azriel frowned. “I’m sorry, we?”

Lucien rolled his eyes, taking a hearty swig from his glass of wine beside him. “I’m going to help you get her out.”

Azriel shook his head, not liking how many people were involved in this already. “I can’t let you.”

“Bullshit. You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not after everything you’ve done to create this mess. I’ll take you to Eris, and besides, I think I know something that can help us.”

*********************

The crisp scents of Autumn flooded Azriel’s senses as he paced the clearing. His mind whirled from his talk with Lucien, even more so at the male’s idea that they had discussed. Lucien had winnowed him here and told him to wait while he discreetly fetched Eris. It was a huge gamble – while you and Nesta had been willing to trust Eris, Azriel was not so keen. His dealings with the prince had always been tense at best, and vicious at worst. He knew he’d have to swallow his pride and put their history aside for this, however hard it may be.

Frankly, Azriel had no idea where in the Autumn Court he was. His shadows sensed nothing, no indication of where they were on the map. It briefly crossed his mind that Lucien could very well have led him into a trap as payback, but deep down Azriel knew Lucien wasn’t that type of male. However angry he might be at Azriel, he would prioritise getting you back. The clearing was massive, which made him feel far too exposed for his liking. There was a thicket of trees in the distance that he considered hiding in, but he owed it to Lucien to do as he was instructed and wait here.

It felt like hours before a strong gust of wind blew his tousled locks out of his forehead, and the presence of something Azriel could only describe as sheer power slammed into him like a wall. A thunderous roar sounded from the skies, unlike anything the shadowsinger had ever heard before. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight before him.

Three large dragons were flying ahead, circling above the clearing. Their wings were like claps of thunder, nearly sending him backwards onto the ground. Upon the back of the large black one was the unmistakable, arrogant figure of Eris Vanserra. He held onto the spikes going down the dragon’s neck as it soared above Azriel, roaring with the ferocity of an ancient battlecry. Azriel’s jaw nearly hit the ground as he spotted none other than Nesta Archeron, riding the elegant silver dragon with her hair blowing in the wind. Her eyes were a lethal glowing silver, resembling the scales of the very beast she was mounted on.

“Mother above…” Azriel whispered, flinching as he felt the ground shake beneath him. He turned around slowly, and was met with the third dragon, a riderless one with gold scales and large horns. It snaked towards him, growling fiercely. For a moment, Azriel thought the beast would open its jaws and roast him alive, but the creature paused, growling as it glanced behind the shadowsinger.

“I must say, you are the last person I expected to come here.” Came Eris’ cocky voice. Azriel turned back around, slightly nervous at the golden dragon breathing down his neck, and was faced with the other two. Ignoring Eris, his gaze landed upon Nesta.

She was perched upon the dragon like it was a horse, or even a throne, chin high like a queen from ancient times. Azriel’s breath left his body at the sight of Nesta with her hair unbound, trailing freely down her back and shining against her blood red dress. Whichever way her gaze shifted, the dragon’s did so too. It was like watching Nesta in a mirror, only her reflection was a dragon. It unnerved Azriel, and he was well aware of his vulnerability in this situation. Not only was he in enemy court, unauthorised at that matter, but three beasts he thought only existed in stories stood beside him, in the flesh.

“Lucien said you wanted to meet.” Eris said coldly. “You have ten seconds to convince us that it’s worth our time.”

“(Y/N) will die at sunrise tomorrow if we do not do something.” Azriel blurted out clumsily.

There was a moment of silence, and Eris looked towards Nesta. Her gaze was fixed on Azriel, and he squirmed underneath it. Her silver mount growled fiercely, as if it was sharing its riders' rage.

“Are we supposed to believe that you’ve suddenly had a change of heart and care about her?”

Azriel gritted his teeth. “I’ve always cared.”

Eris snorted. “No, not truly. If you had, then we wouldn’t be having this meeting. Because you’d have done something by now and grown a spine.”

“Your brother said the same thing.” The spymaster growled, already irked by having to negotiate with the Autumn prince. “I don’t need more reminding that I’ve fucked up, Eris. I just want to save her life, and I can’t do that on my own.”

“And it’s taken you this long to come to this realisation because…” Eris raised an eyebrow, amber gaze merciless. His dragon snarled, baring its teeth menacingly.

“I didn’t know Rhys would take things this far. I thought he’d want to find out everything about the bond before he made a decision on what to do with her. But he doesn’t want to wait, he wants her gone by tomorrow.”

“I assume he ordered you to do the deed?”

Azriel nodded, throat tight. “Yes. He ordered me to collect all information on the magic they used to create the bond before I…. before I kill her. Regardless of whether I came up with anything, he wants her eliminated by sunrise.”

This was probably the stupidest, craziest decision Azriel had ever made. Part of it felt wrong, betraying his found family after 500 years of peace. But when he reflected on those centuries, had he truly been happy? Had he truly felt like he was living a fulfilled life, content with what he was doing? A few weeks ago, Azriel would have been sure of his answer. Now he wasn’t, and that unsettled him.

Regardless, reached into his bag and pulled out the books Gwyn gave him. He took a breath and continued. “Which is why I brought every document the Night Court has on this magic to you. So Rhys wouldn’t get his hands on it.”

“You went to Gwyn?” Nesta burst out, rage dripping from her tongue.

“Yes.” Azriel admitted his guilt for putting Gwyn in this precarious position intensifying.

“You put her in danger by doing that!” The eldest Archeron hissed at him, her dragon responding in a similar tone. “If anything happens to her because of it, I will slaughter you, Azriel.”

He let out a dry laugh. “Gwyn said the same thing to me about you and (Y/N). I swore no matter what happened, nobody would find out I got this through her. She even put a knife to my throat.”

Eris spoke up again. “As much as I would truly love to believe you, if I recall correctly you were perfectly content sending (Y/N) to certain death weeks ago on an impossible mission under Rhysand’s orders.”

“I was trying to find a way out of it for her!” Azriel yelled, patience snapping. “A way for her to quietly flee and go build a life for herself far away from all this shit. I never told her because I didn’t want to scare her, or get her hopes up. I had the chance to explain this to her before…”

His voice trailed off, memories of seeing you strung up like an animal flashing through his mind. Azriel was no stranger to self hatred, but today it was striking him now more than ever.

Nesta’s lethal tone interrupted his thoughts. “Before what?” She demanded.

Azriel gulped, praying that the dragons wouldn’t make him their meal. “Before Rhysand interrupted and… took over.”

“Meaning?” Eris inquired, his dragon inching ever so slightly closer to the Illyrian.

“Meaning he thought I was being too soft, since I gave her water. He stopped the physical torture and spent hours trying to get inside her head until she passed out.”

“And he didn’t manage to do it?” Eris’ voice was laced with surprise, something uncharacteristic for the Autumn prince who always seemed to be two steps ahead of everyone.

“No.”

Eris and Nesta glanced at each other, unreadable expressions crossing their faces. Their dragons continued to stare down Azriel, awaiting whatever command would give them permission to incinerate him where he stood. He had a million questions for them – how the fuck did Eris have dragons? What did Beron say about all of this? Did they still plan on taking him out? But Azriel knew better than to ask them.

Nesta swung her legs to the side and crawled down the dragon’s side. To Azriel’s awe, the beast lowered its shoulder to the ground to make it easier for the female to climb off. Gracefully, Nesta’s feet met the ground and she patted the dragon’s neck. He remained frozen in his place as she stalked towards him. Like Gwyn, there was a new strength to her. This was not the half-starved Nesta who first came to the House of Wind. No, this was the female that stole from the Cauldron itself, whose name was whispered across the moors and valleys of Prythian, associated with pure death and power. Nesta’s steps were sure, silver fire expertly curling around her fingertips like Azriel’s own shadows as she stalked towards him like a lioness seizing up its prey.

“My war is not directly with you, Azriel,” Nesta said slowly. “But make no mistake. You are not innocent here. You may not have inflicted the most damage, but you willingly stood by and let your family tear me and (Y/N) down until they got pure submission. You let Cassian mock and belittle me at my lowest. You forced (Y/M) into a job she did not want to do. You let Cassian force me to train as a warrior when that’s not at all what I wanted or needed. You didn’t do a damn thing to advocate for either of us because you’re so blinded by the sheltered little tower your circle has built over the last 500 years, ignorant to the pain you inflict on anyone who’s not a part of your family. You coming here on your own volition is the only thing in my eyes that could possibly redeem you. You will help us get (Y/N) back at all costs, or you will suffer at my hand more than you have ever suffered before.”

Being threatened for the third time that day, all Azriel could do was bow his head. “I understand.” He said.

“No, I don’t think you do.” Nesta hissed. “For your sake, let’s hope your change of heart isn’t too late.”

Azriel hadn’t even noticed Eris had climbed off his dragon and was walking towards Nesta. He stood beside her, gently resting a hand on her waist. Azriel tensed, half expecting Nesta to slap him away, but she did not. To his surprise, she looked comfortable with Eris. More so than she ever had been with Cassain. When Cassian touched Nesta, there was always some sexual suggestion beneath it. But not with Eris. Eris’ touch was comfort more than ownership, something Azriel did not expect.

In his heart, he realised Cassian and Nesta were not right for each other. It made no sense for them to be mates, and whatever they had going on was purely surface level sexual tension. There was nothing deep about it, no greater understanding of each other. Nesta and Eris seemed like a much more reasonable match, mirroring each other like they did with their dragons. As much as Azriel hated the male, and knew that these thoughts would crush Cassian’s heart, it reassured him that he had made the right choice.

“So, spymaster,” Eris piped up, cocking his head. “How are we doing to do this?”

And so Azriel began explaining.

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @queercontrarian @kitkat-writes-stuff @moonfawnx @sevikas-whore @weird-and-wise @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @kingshitonly @ladyofcherries @eerievixen @readingwritingwatching @peacecoffeeandflowers @a-frog-with-a-laptop @shadowqueen25 @lana08 @highladyofillyria @rachelnicolee @ladespedidas @little-darlingo @manonblackbeakquidditchteam13 @demirunner @terorovaerangi @hauntedandhopeful @younxii @microwaveallthedemons @fanfictioniseverything @lovra974 @maddietheshoe @peaceandcrackers @emy1-9 @lostinfantasyworldsbi @issybee0611 @thoughtfulshepherdmongerkid @belledawnidk @whhyyynottt @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @littlebbb @piceous21 @sevendeadlyshins-blog @searchingford @marigold-morelli @thesapphiclibrarian @

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asexualzoro · 5 months

Text

it's december 9th, meaning today is my 23rd birthday (which is my favorite number!), which means it's time for...

Lew Writes Wrapped 2023!!!

im including anything that happened after my last bday, so we have some works from december as well. this one's a bit of a weird one for the total word count, you'll see why

it's all treebark from my sideblog / alt ao3. i cannot change. i will not change. for these im just gonna specify the relationship that's the main focus bc thats easier than fandom bc all but like one are third life

dandelion wishing

(Dec, 2.4k, treebark, oneshot) (link)

op movie 6 au for dogwarts in which Martyn is the baron and Ren doesn't know he's dead

id actually plotted out a whole third life au for this movie like months prior and really wanted to write it, so i took it for treebark week and focused it just on these two. it's my fave movie of all time and i obvs had to give it to my fave completely dead team <3

i will admit tho. it did make me back search martyns twitter to see if hes ever posted abt watching this movie. bc i know he likes One Piece and i realized this would bring me into the danger zone (he hasnt ever posted abt it if hes seen it)

A Romance Route for the Doomed Villain?!?

(Dec, 5k, treebark, oneshot) (link)

treebark dating sim isekai parody that spiraled out of my control made in a day-long possession

im still baffled by this one. why was the response to this one so insane?? there was smth in the water the day i posted this bro. a 1:2 kudos to hits ratio for the entire first day is literally fucking unbelievable. 70 comments?? what hold did this fic have on you people. i got fic written about this one?? my friends goncharov'd me in front of my face

really fucking fun to write and the insane response was smth im always gonna remember. i appreciate you guys so much

treesekai also turns a year old in a few days!

Until the Angels Realize You're Not One of Them

(Feb, 7.2k, emerald duo, oneshot) (link)

a traitor phil au which was mostly just me talking about all the reasons i love technoblade

this one... wasnt actually written this year for the most part? i didnt want to not acknowledge it, since it's on my ao3 in this year, but i wont be able to count it toward the total

still. traitor phil au my beloved. hearing him say on his stream he and techno wanted to do a betrayal arc made me feel insane bc i already had this written at the time

missing or obstructed

(2022-present, 12.9k, Grian & Ren, ongoing) (link)

post 3L fic about Ren and Grian seeking out closure with a lot of funny little sleep metaphors

same deal as the last fic, i, uh dont think i actually wrote anything new for missing or obstructed this year either? just uploaded chapters i wrote last year,,, i didnt wanna now acknowledge it, but i wont count this in my total later

i miss her. one day ill actually sit down and write more missing or obstructed. in my doc im JUST at introducing Martyn and i havent written it yet

to reach my mangled debut

(Sept, 4.2k, treebark week, ongoing) (link)

it wouldnt be me if i didnt have an execution somewhere in here. another op au!

THIS. I LOVE HER. when rev and i were plotting out the whole storyline for smop renchanting i was begging please give me this scene i need it and i had so much fun writing it. i rlly need to finish soon but i haven’t had time but please. please check out smop. she’s top of my priority list to update

Three-Dog Night

(Sept, 6.7k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

BIG DOG. beauty and the beast au!

god im so fond of this au. there’s some rlly good scenes written for this and unposted bc i just need to link them together. honestly i think if i took a month and focused it on this fic alone i could fucking finish it but i don’t have the time ;-;

that said i’m so enamored w this au genuinely. o dunno what else to say i just think. puppy

Cover Me In Roses

(Sept, 3.3k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

lamplight roleswap! put Martyn in a flower pot

i don’t feel as motivated to work on this one when i have lamplight unfinished so it’s lower on my priorities but know i have like an entire arc of this written and unposted. we just have a few paths for this one and i have to decide which one to use

it’s so wild to me lamplight has like. aus. like this isn’t even the only one? a roleswap. that’s insane? it’s wild that you all like lamplight enough i can even get away with this

First Sign of a House Fire

(Sept, 2k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

i love superhero stories for two reasons: plots about secrets and adapting the characters to give them powers. this had smth fun for both of them

yellow rose isn’t super high on my list of priorities to update (i think the oneshot is interesting on its own) but one day,,,, it’s part of the many aus cherri and i have but it’s the longest for sure. the doc for just this au is like 100k words long on its own. at the time i draft this cherri and i are actively writing smth else for it in another tab. theres like 4 offshoots and im obsessed w all of them. we had to make ocs about this one. i’m excited to eventually add more to this series

actually that’s one of the scenes i’m most excited for and most dreading adding. we made a backstory oc and im SO attached to him and im excited to post a thing out there w him but. ough. whatever cringe is dead i’ll get there eventually and brute force my way into attaching you to our funky little robot guy

also love that this fic forced me to be decided on a docv characterization that i have to stick to. he may be a canon guy to martyn’s vtuber lore but he’s my oc now too

Blindsided

(Sept, 2k, treebark week, ongoing) (link)

pirate au and royal au based on a big secret and also stuffing a guy in a box and it's all stupid dramatic literally what else do you want or need in life

this is my wife. my favorite. my most beloved. blindsided gives me new illnesses and diseases. i have just one scene to write before i can update it and then i can continue unleashing her. god i love this fic the drama of it is SO fun.

the funny thing abt blindsided is i know all the plot chronologically but now how to Present it which is part of why i haven’t continued too much. eventually i will but until then know that one of the scenes im sitting on which has been fully written is one i think about constantly. hopefully when i post it cherri’ll let free the comic she did for it

i actually have the ending of this fic written i just need to get there lmfao. second on my priority list after smop i think

Cradle of the Leviathan

(Sept, 1.5k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

i just love mer aus man. whats the point of it all if you cant have mer aus. just get a big ol fish

i have the ending of this au written as well and literally so little of the lead up. but this is pretty low on my priorities. i think this one stands just fine on its own. mer aus are nice like that

we actually have a few mer aus but for now i’ll be focusing on this one. i do have a few sweet post story things written for this one. maybe one day i’ll write enough to post em lmao

Lamplight AU

(2022-present, 47k, treebark, ongoing) (link)

renchanting dnd/fantasy au, martyn's a paladin and ren's a lamp

so i started this au last year. my wrapped last year said my total was 20k, so that means this year's total is.... 27k!

and… it was just lamplight’s birthday and i did all my appreciation for the fic and its readers then, but god. i love this fic so much and i love you all who have read it and been so kind about it. the amount of popularity it has makes it a bit nerve wracking to work on, but i still really want to see it finished. i hope to see the bulk of it done by this time next year!

Six Sentence Sunday

six sentence sunday is a challenge where i try to post six sentences i wrote that week every sunday, to keep me writing every week of the year! i do it over on my writing blog, @driflew

i did not keep up on my six sentences,,, i had a lot of sunday fencing tournaments. i did for ~33 weeks this year! thats a pretty good amount! i’ll have to be more on top of it next year tho

unpublished work

the last few years i havent included unpublished work, but with the extreme bulk of it, i wanted to note it down. cherri @/cherrifire and i have been writing a lot back and forth at each other in discord dms this year, and i wanted to include those in my count! bc holy fucking shit is there a lot of them

i didn’t include collab pieces, just pieces i wrote alone. i also only included the renchanting aus i share w cherri and scarian aus i share w flowey, nothing else—no unfinished lamplight or other independent pieces or oneshots, no original fiction for class, nothing. i also missed a few u haven’t moved to docs yet. so i’m lowballing by a few. thousands. of words

the total for those is...... 135k words! there is,,, something wrong with me

total and end notes

our total this year is...

187512 words!

that might be my highest word count yet! because i caught treebark disease. wild.

something really fun about this year to me is i really loved everything i wrote.

if you want to get me a gift or support me on my birthday… maybe try reading my work and reblogging it or leaving a comment! you can find my writing at driflew or skelew on ao3, follow my writing blog at @driflew, or even consider tipping my kofi!

thank you for sticking with me and supporting me this year! i really appreciate it! hopefully i can break 100k next year too!

#lew writes wrapped #lew writes

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opencharacters · 1 year

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Pooh Bear & The Mighty King Yendis

A young brown bear contemplates the state of his world...

[Also on AO3]

Chapter I: The River

Oswald, a particularly happy-go-lucky rabbit sat down by the river of fiction, a transdimensional river made out of quarks. It was not his intention to go for a dip but rather to sit and relax a bit. The sound of the quarks was soothing in a way and he felt at peace.

He noticed a friend of his was already down at the riverbank, Winnie the Pooh. He would recognize his brown fur anywhere.

"Morning Pooh"

"Morning Oswald, what brings you down here?"

"Just thought I'd relax here a bit and read"

"Ever wonder about the river? It's been behaving strangely since King Yendis took over"

"Yendis, despite being my brother i can safely say has done a lot of damage to this land"

"Perhaps something can be done to purify the river?" Pooh asked.

"Perhaps, but at least it has not lost its beauty"

"That's true" Pooh said, drinking from his cup of honey.

Another friend of theirs, Raggedy Ann arrived at the riverbank and greeter the pair.

"Morning you two, beautiful day is it not? I was gonna have a picnic here"

"Ann, does the state of the river concern you?" Pooh asked.

"The river? Well its pretty but its different than when I was young“ she answered.

"Sometimes I feel like someone should overthrow King Yendis, he's ruining the river, he's ruining my home, he's ruining everything"

Raggedy Ann pulled out a checkered blanket and put it on the ground and lay down her picnic basket. Her movement was overly slow being a doll and all.

"King Yendis is a problem but I'm not sure what can be done. He's the king after all"

Pooh looked concerned and angry. "We are spending our free time looking at a river thats toxic because its the only thing still beautiful in the forest. Its ripples provoke memories of the original beauty"

"Pooh we just-" Ann said.

"Im sick of living in this fantasy land where we pretend everything is fine. The forest is dying, the river is dying. Yendis needs to go!" Pooh yelled out.

"But what can-" Oswald started before being interrupted by Pooh.

"We need to kill him. I know he's your brother but its the only way we can even start to repair the forest"

Ann & Oswald both looked shocked at Pooh as if he had performed a cardinal sin.

"Im sorry its just...things arent improving. Opening up greenhouses is no subsitute for what we had. I just..." tears began to stream down Pooh's eyes. His two friends embraced him to comfort him.

They didnt say anything. Oswald left without saying goodbye. Ann stayed with him just sitting in silence watching the river and its quark based whistling mixed in with sound of black sludge dragging across the bottom of the river.

"You're right pooh, we cant keep living like this and pretend its fine" Ann finally said "pretending our friends havent been hurt or had their life cut short by all of this"

"I doubt Oswald will help us, thats his brother. But i think we could hire someone to do so for us"

"Yeah" Pooh said, hiding one of his hands behind back, sludge beginning to to permiate on his hand, seeping into his pores.

It didnt hurt but Pooh knew it was in his interest to hide it, at least while this plan was still formulating between them

#public domain #writeblr #writing #my writing #thought id give it a go #winnie the pooh #oswald the lucky rabbit #Raggedy Ann

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shrxmps · 2 years

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note: sorry i wasnt as active :( ive also been working on writing another chapter for one my ao3 fics ; havent wrote anything for robin in a while so here is this you and robin dancing at the prom shii 😈 ALSO I HIT 100 FOLLOWERS SIDOSKSOWOA

[22:17]

"Robin? I thought you weren't coming!" you said excitedly, looking at her sitting down on a plastic chair.

"Yeah, well, here I am," she said, avoiding eye contact with you.

"What's wrong?" you pulled a chair and sat down next to her, taking her hand in your own, at which her eyes opened wide.

"Oh-- It's n-nothing," she stuttered, "I guess- I don't have anyone to dance with. It's fine, really."

"Why don't you go and look after someone? Oh, see? Fred is also sitting awkwardly in a corner."

"Fred is not exactly the type of person I'm looking for," she accentuated the word person, lightly kicking the air with her legs.

"Why don't we dance then?" you suddenly said excitedly, leaning towards her and seeing her eyes light up, but she quickly looked away.

"Are you sure people wouldn't stare?"

"Why?"

"Because we're both... girls?"

"Don't worry about that! Let them stare!" you grabbed her hand and pulled her to the dance floor despite her protests, perfect timing because the band invited had started playing another good dance song.

"I don't know how to dance--" she laughed, stomping her feet on the ground and accidentally stepping on your shoe, which made you step on her shoe back, as revenge. Both of you giggled as you tried to figure out how you were going to keep both of your legs intact by the end of the night in an attempt to burst some moves.

"Oh, already a slow song?" you noticed, putting your arms around her neck. Robin became clearly nervous, her cheeks red and palms sweaty, looking around the room to find her previous seat. "We don't have to do this. Unless... you want to?" you whispered to her, feeling your heart jumping out of your chest and your breath slowing down gradually.

"I-- do want to dance with you, Y/N."

Both of you looked at each other with parted lips, gazing into each other's eyes to find any sign of doubt, but you only saw each other's reflections. She hesitantly put her arms around your waist, slowly pulling you closer.

"Aren't you worried people are going to... talk?" you mumbled, contradictory to what you had said earlier, barely audible because of the music. Both of you slowly moved side to side, not breaking eye contact. You could feel your hands struggling to stay still, and your stomach was invaded with a swarm of butterflies from the way Robin looked at you.

"Let them talk. They're just going to think I have the prettiest girlfriend in the world," she chuckled, a soft smile plastered on her face as her hands gripped your waist tighter to signify you couldn't leave her now. Your eyes went wide open, and the only sound you could get out was a weak laugh, moving your gaze to your shoes.

You suddenly put your head on her shoulder in a swift motion, at which she stopped dancing for a second. You could hear her breathe accelerate as she held you in a tight embrace, continuing to move along the rhythm of the music with you until it stopped. You returned to your previous position, standing still in front of her and resuming the so-longed eye contact.

"So..." she started, "You wanna go eat something?"

"Yeah, let's go!" you took her hand and round out of the school to your car, the wind blowing in your faces as your laughs filled the empty parking lot. It was going to be a long night. But it was so worth it.

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q-gorgeous · 2 years

Text

coupe de foudre chapter 5

ao3

ffn

taking the L and just posting this in the middle of the night cuz i wanna and i havent bene getting good traction in the middle of the day anyways

“It’s so weird that that ghost hunter is just staking out in the woods now. What, is he camping out there too?” Sam said as they walked down the steps outside of the school.

“I don’t know.” Danny kicked a pebble in front of him. “What if some random person is just taking a stroll through the woods though and he starts shooting at them? He seems a little unhinged to me, with all of his purity talk he keeps spewing.”

“I don’t know man.” Tucker looked up from his PDA. “But I definitely think you should stay out of the woods though. You don’t wanna risk running into him again.”

“Yeah.” Sam paused. “Why were you in the woods on Saturday anyways?” Her jaw dropped. “You didn’t go hang out with Dash, did you?”

Danny waved his arms at her. “It was an accident! I was flying over the park on patrol and I forgot he asked me to hang out! I couldn’t just ignore him!”

“Yeah! You could’ve!”

“No, you don’t understand.” Danny looked at the ground. “He seemed so excited. And like he wants to change.”

“You said that just a couple days ago and then he beat you up!”

“It takes time to change things like that!” Danny shouted back. “He had a relapse because he was having a bad day!”

“This is not the kind of behavior you should be excusing, Danny!” Sam frowned at him. “You’ve never excused it before. Why are you starting now?”

“You. Don’t. Get. It,” Danny ground out.

Sam sighed and finally softened. “Danny, we’re your friends. You can talk to us about anything. What don’t we get?”

Tucker had been silent the whole conversation, eyes flicking back and forth between Danny and Sam. His eyes widened as Danny made eye contact with him.

“It’s whatever, it doesn’t matter.” Danny looked away and ran a hand over his face. “I’m gonna start heading home. The ghosts have been pretty quiet lately so I’m gonna go do my homework.”

“I just don’t think being friends with Dash is a good idea. Just be careful, okay?”

Danny sighed. “Sure.”

He walked away from his friends to the side of the school where the crowd of students wouldn’t be able to see him. He transformed and shot into the sky, heading in the direction of his house.

Who was Sam to tell him what to do? Sure, she was one of his best friends. But that didn’t mean she just got to make decisions for him. If Danny wanted to hang out with Dash he would. If he really wanted to, they’d become friends.

Yeah. Friends.

He was flying over the Nasty Burger when he saw him. Dash was already almost to the fast food place. He must’ve left school early.

Danny felt indignation rise in his stomach. He could trust his own judgement in character. If he thought Dash wanted to be a better person, was becoming a better person, then he must be. Especially after Dash asked Danny how he got to be such a good person. Why else would he be asking that if he wasn’t trying?

Decision made, Danny flew down to where Dash was.

“Hey.”

Dash jumped, looking around until he spotted Danny hovering behind him.

“Oh! Hey, Phantom.” Dash waved at him. “What’s up?”

“I just got done with…uh.” Danny stammered. “My afternoon patrol? Yeah.”

“Cool! It still seems like it’s pretty quiet out there. It must be nice to have a break.”

“Yeah. Weird though. I’m not sure where they all went to hang out this week but I’m not complaining.”

“I bet.” Dash smiled.

They stared at each other for a couple seconds before Danny cleared his throat. “Anyways… I was wondering if you were up for hanging out for a little bit?”

“Yeah! Always!” Dash pointed towards the Nasty Burger over his shoulder. “I was gonna go get some food. You want some?”

“Yeah! I’ll take a number three meal. Thank you.”

“Anytime. I’ll be right back.”

Dash made quick work going inside and ordering. The after school lunch rush hadn’t arrived yet so he was back outside in just a few minutes.

“Here you go.” Dash handed Danny a to-go bag.

“Thanks.” Danny took the bag and looked around and pointed at the top of a building. “Want to go eat up there?”

“Yeah! That’d be cool!” Dash exclaimed.

Danny tightened his hold on his bag and grabbed Dash around the waist and took off, Dash gripping two cups of soda to his chest. The flight to the top of the building was short and Danny set Dash gently down on the roof, making sure Dash had his footing before letting go.

He sat down, dangling his feet over the edge of the building, and pulled a burger out of his bag and took a big bite.

They sat in silence while they ate their food. Danny watched the clouds drift over the blue sky. He swallowed the last bite of his burger, took a sip of his soda, and grabbed a napkin to wipe the grease off his gloves. He crushed it into a ball and fidgeted with the paper between two of his fingers.

“Why were you asking me how I got to be such a good person on Saturday?” Danny asked suddenly.

Dash made a choking sound, surprised by Danny’s question. He took a sip of the soda to clear his throat before he looked at Danny. “What? Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know.” Danny ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just– you seem like you’re trying to be better. You seem a lot nicer than before. Compared to uh, when we were stuck in that shrinking incident.”

Dash just watched Danny, burger still held out in front of him.

“Also some of the kids from Casper High that help me in ghost fights were skeptical about you having a change of heart. They don’t believe that’s the case.”

Dash scoffed, looking at the ground below them. “That’s probably Manson and Foley. I can’t say I blame them though. I’ve been a jerkwad to them and their friend for a long time.”

“But you’re trying to be better, right?” Danny asked.

Dash nodded.

Danny placed a hand on Dash’s shoulder. Dash’s eyes raised to meet his own.

“Then I think that’s all that matters.”

They sats there and stared at each other. Danny’s hand lingered on Dash’s shoulder for just a little too long and once he realized that he quickly pulled away and cleared his throat.

“Haha... Anyways, have you done anything fun lately?” Danny smiled at him awkwardly.

They sat and talked on the top of the roof for a while, eating the rest of their food while they did. The sun steadily moved across the sky, the blue turning into orange. Danny tilted his head up into the wind and he suddenly realized how much time had passed while they sat talking.

“Oh shoot, I gotta go home and–- or, uh, I gotta go do my last patrol for the day.” Danny stood up and stretched. “Want me to fly you home again?”

Dash smiled at him. “Do you patrol in all your free time?”

Danny shrugged. “It’s in the job description.”

Dash laughed. “Okay, if you say so. But no, I was gonna meet up with Kwan for a little bit today and then head home. You can just drop me back on the sidewalk.”

“Got it.”

Danny grabbed Dash in the same way as earlier when he brought him to the roof. The only difference this time was Dash wrapping an arm around Danny’s shoulder. He blushed at the contact.

Floating up and over the edge of the building, Danny slowly glided down to the sidewalk. When their feet touched down Danny pulled away, his fingers grazing across Dash’s back.

“I’ll see you later.” Dash waved as Danny floated back into the air.

“Yeah.” He smiled. “See you later.”

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #invisobang 2022 #danny fenton #dash baxter #sam manson #tucker foley #swagger bishie #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #phic

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ravs6709 · 2 years

Text

Won't You Shine With Me (Oh Distant Star Of Mine)- Hekster, Kam, Marelliana, Fedex

Act 1. Act 2. Act 3 (here). Act 4. Act 5. Act 6.

Or read on ao3 here!

Word count: 4.1k words

Act 3 to my revue starlight au! Act 3 will be focusing on hekster and marelliana. I got so stuck on the marelliana, though i havent written them before, so ig that's why. Hope it still reads as good (esp comparing to the kam revue last act when i went off)

Warnings: censored swearing, fire (no injury, but repetitive mentions of burning)

•~•~•~•~•~•

ACT 3

SCENE 1

-- Hey, come meet me, read a text on Stina's phone. It was from an unknown number, but...

-- Sophie? she asked.

-- Yeah

-- Where do I find you? And now? Class starts in five

Her phone showed that her text had been read, and Stina watched as the bubbles that showed she was typing appeared, only to disappear.

-- Sophie where do i find you?

No sign that her message was read.

-- Sophie

Stina sighed, putting her phone into her pocket.

"Everything alright?" Linh asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm ditching class though and so is Sophie."

Linh raised an eyebrow. "Okay, fine."

"I'll see you as soon as I can! Not sure when I'll be back!"

Stina dashed out of the hallway and out of the academy's campus. She pulled out her phone, except there was still no reply.

"Sophie, what the hell," she muttered.

You better not be wasting my time.

Her footsteps traced a path that she'd taken a couple of times every since enrolling at Foxfire. The path led her to an old building that was somewhat run-down. It was vacant—it was usually vacant, actually—and it wasn't hard to open one of the side doors and slip inside.

The building wasn't that big, just big enough to fit a stage and the equipment needed to put on a show, but not enough for a large-scale professional one.

"You got here faster than I thought you would," Sophie called out from the front of the audience.

"I know my way around the area," Stina replied, walking to the front. "It's also close to Foxfire."

"Really? It took me half an hour to get here."

"Your sense of direction is still that sh*tty?"

"First off, being five doesn't count, second... yeah."

A laugh spilled from Stina's lips, but then remembered her previous conversation with Sophie. She hadn't seen her since their conversation yesterday, and Stina went to sleep and woke up in an empty bed. If it weren't for the fact that she wasn't sure if she'd be able to fall asleep with Sophie next to her, she'd be much more disappointed that Sophie only came to bed after she fell asleep.

She reminded herself that things weren't like how they were before.

"So, what'd you call me here for?" Stina asked, taking a seat. "Did you hear I lost and thought I proved your point?"

She didn't have the courage to look at Sophie's face.

"Is that what you think I called you here for? Do you think I'd do that?"

"I don't know," Stina said, forcing her tone to be flat. "It's not like I know you enough to say."

"And you think I'd tell you that here of all places? This place where we—"

("Stina! Stina! Stina!" Sophie said, tugging her arm and shaking her back and forth. "Did you like it? Stiiinaaa!"

Stina was too busy staring at the stage. The actors were now bowing because the play Keeper of the Lost Cities had just finished, and she was in awe of what they had just done.

"Stiiinaaa!!!" Sophie wailed.

"Stop doing that!" Stina pouted. "I'm thinking!"

Sophie let go of her arm, now resting her head on her hand.

"I think the ending is too sad," Stina decided on. "The Telepath and the Empath don't get to see each other! Why'd the Telepath push the Empath! That's stupid!"

Sophie looked at her with wide eyes that were a little teary. "You didn't like the play..."

"Nooo don't cry!" Stina said, squishing her cheeks. "No crying! I really really loved it!"

Sophie frowned. "How much?"

Stina raised one arm up high and put the other down low. "Thiiis much!"

She gaped. "Really?"

She nodded. "Really really! And when we grow up, I want to be like those actors and perform with you!"

"...you want to?"

She shook her head really fast. "Yeah! Sophie, let's be stars together!"

"Promise?"

Stina grabbed her hands. "Promise!"

"Promise!" Sophie repeated, smiling. Her brown eyes gleamed in the light.

"Promise!" They said together, shaking their hands as they smiled so wide that their cheeks hurt.)

"—promised," Stina said. "Yeah, I know. I wouldn't have come here if I didn't."

"I thought you would have forgotten, after ten years," Sophie whispered.

Stina turned to her. "Are you stupid? Who do you think I am?"

"As you said, I don't know you enough. But I'd like to get to know you better. Know you again."

"What gives?" Stina asked. "You seemed fine being distant and avoiding me."

"I'm not—nevermind. I know you gave me your whole speech earlier, but what you had said, did you mean it?"

"I don't know," Stina replied. "I've had the thought for a while, but it was the idea that I promised you that stopped me from doing it. I mean, I didn't think I'd see you again."

"I didn't know you were here either," she confessed. "I would have come to find you, eventually, but then I found you here."

"The best academy in the country for the best actor," she said proudly. "If I couldn't get into here, then how could I become a star? How could I bring myself to Position Zero?"

Sophie nodded. "I'm glad you still mean it." A soft smile graced her face, and Stina instinctively started staring. Then the smile fell. "You can't afford to lose again."

She blinked. "What happens?"

"Failing the auditions means failure as an actor. It means losing everything. You're already in last place, you can't afford to lose again."

"Is that why you told me to quit?"

Sophie sighed. "Yeah, that's why."

"Well, I guess having that intro talk with Silveny like the others did would have probably been helpful."

"...yeah."

"Wouldn't quitting mean forfeiting, which is the same thing as losing?"

Sophie pursed her lips. "Well crap."

"It's fine," she said, standing up. "I don't plan to lose and give up so easily. I'm an actor, so I'll make a place for myself on the stage—as a star!" She jumped onto the stage and stared down at Sophie. "I'll work harder than I ever have before. The actor, Stina Heks is reborn!"

"Only one person can become the Top Star," Sophie said, looking up at her solemnly.

"Song! Dance! Compete! Shine! Brightest light! Become Top Star!" Stina said, mimicking Silveny. "That's what she said to me. The brightest light becomes the Top Star. Who's to say that two stars can't shine together to produce one light? If she doesn't specify one person, then does it doesn't matter."

"It can't be that easy." Sophie stood up, her eyes blazing. "That's too simple."

Stina leaned forward over the edge of the stage and extended her hand. "Why not? Don't overthink things."

Sophie's lips parted, then closed in a determined line. "Maybe you're right."

Stina nodded, and then Sophie ran up to the stage. She grabbed her hands and Stina pulled her up.

"We can shine together," Sophie said.

"Exactly."

They turned towards the empty audience, overlooking the two seats that they'd been sitting in—both then and now.

"We'll be stars," Stina declared.

"We'll shine the brightest."

After a few moments, neither of them could figure out what else to say.

"Since we're already ditching our first class, let's go out for a bit," Sophie said, already dragging her.

Sophie brought her to a shop. It was a small one, not very popular, but Stina still recognized the person who worked there, they were the person who worked there ten years ago, and was usually the one working whenever she came to visit.

The items that the shop had sold changed over the years of course, and she hadn't seen the hairclips that she and Sophie wore since they'd bought them.

("Oh, wow, pretty!" Sophie said breathlessly, staring at a hairclip with an alicorn on it.

She took the package and her mother, who had been standing off to the side because Sophie begged her to let her and Stina be alone, paid for it. Once Sophie had the paid-for hairclip, she opened the package, then held it in her hand with wide eyes.

"It's shiny," Stina said.

Sophie hummed, then stared at her. Sophie walked right up to her, brushed some of the curls out of her face, then put the clip on her. Stina blinked at her.

"It's a present for you!" Sophie said.

Stina usually didn'tlike when people touched her hair, but Sophie was an exception. She could still feel warmth from where her hands had touched her forehead.

Sophie took her by the arm and took her to a small mirror.

"It looks good on you!" Sophie said.

Stina smiled, then frowned. "I thought you were buying it for yourself."

Then, with a strong sense of purpose, Stina marched to the shelf where Sophie found the clip. There was one with a bird on it, mostly silver but with various shades of blue on it. She looked at Sophie's mom who paid for it. Stina opened the package and strode up to Sophie, brushed her hair aside and put the clip on.

Stina nodded in satisfaction. "A reminder of our promise."

Sophie nodded vigorously. "Yeah!")

Neither of them bought anything this time, but that didn't matter, because it was clear that Sophie remembered this much, and her heart was pounding with warmth.

Sophie brought her to the next location, a local ice cream truck. She bought Stina an ice cream cone—her favourite flavour from back then, and Stina was touched by the fact that she remembered which ice cream flavour to get that she didn't have the heart to say that her favourite flavour had changed.

"How long did it take to plan this?" Stina asked.

"Hours," Sophie sighed. "And that was with using a map on my phone."

"Speaking of phones, did you leave me to figure out where you were on purpose?"

Sophie smiled sheepishly. "Uh, my phone died."

She laughed. "Seriously?"

"Yeah... sorry, didn't mean to leave you on read. I'm just glad you knew where to find me."

I may not know who you are now, but I know this much about you. The value our promise holds. The promise has always been too important to me. You've always been too important to me, were sentences that she thought, but couldn't bring herself to say all of a sudden. Instead, she settled for a neutral hum. She ate her ice cream in a comfortable silence until she received a text from Linh.

-- Forkle says auditions for KOTLC start tomorrow -- Also he's not happy you two ditched

--Well we're not coming back until after school

"We're not?" Sophie asked, reading over her shoulder.

"I don't feel like hearing a Forkle 'you kids' lecture again," Stina replied. Really, what she meant was I'd rather spend the day with you, and it seemed that Sophie knew what she meant, because she took her hand with the softest of smiles.

SCENE 2

"You're cancelling our practice session?" Biana asked.

"Yeah, I've got something to do," Marella said. Well, she didn't actually. "We've been practicing every day for the past week. It's not like you're my girlfriend that we need to practice together every single day." Marella stared resolutely at her as she said that.

You are the one who broke up with me. So why does that matter to you?

"Well, partners shouldn't force themselves to be with the other every single day either," Biana replied, not even flinching.

Damn it, it was like Marella was the only one who still felt the attraction, and now Marella had to bring it up and make the matter worse.

"Then why are you upset?"

"Auditions start tomorrow, and you're not going to take it seriously?"

I'm taking it plenty seriously, you just glow so bright you refuse to see the other lights, she thought bitterly. "Does that matter to you?"

"I'd like to see you in one of the lead roles," Biana said, as if that meant nothing to her.

As if the two of them hadn't sat down on the floor of their room, holding a copy of the script so they could memorize their lines, talking about how romantic the lines seemed, discussing their favourite parts. The playwrights apparently hadn't meant for the play to be read romantically, but they weren't opposed to it either, so her and Biana pretended that it was.

Do you know what you're saying? Are you serious?

"I'm aiming for the role of the Telepath," Marella said.

Those teal eyes of hers wavered. The Telepath was the role that Biana had gone for last year—only for Fitz to be the one to make it—and she was sure that she would aim for that role again. If they competed for the same role, it was unlikely that one of them would get the role of the Empath if neither auditioned for it.

"I guess we'll see who makes it," Biana said at last. "I'll head back to our room, if you don't mind."

As Biana turned to leave, both their phones rang with an identical ringtone.

"Looks like we wouldn't be able to practice anyways," Marella said. "I might see you down there."

SCENE 3

"The star's light shines brightly, To see one more beautiful than me is unlikely. I am Foxfire student, Biana Vacker! You'll never see a star shine brighter than me!" Biana took out her twin daggers that glinted in the light.

Standing there, like that, Biana stood on the stage as if she belonged.

"Stars shine bright until they blow, My burning passion will forever glow, I am Foxfire student, Marella Redek! We'll see which star burns out first!" With a wave of her hand, she brought out a fan.

"That's an interesting looking fan you have," Biana commented. "No flair to it at all though."

Marella hadn't fought her yet, but had heard from Linh who'd fought her on the first day.

(She'd forced herself to sound neutral as she asked. She couldn't risk sounding too excited, and she couldn't sound too irritated, because while their friends knew that Marella was upset at Biana, both her and Biana tried to make it look like as they were at least kind of friends. Which they were, they were roommates who needed to be able to tolerate each other's presence. But they also weren't.)

Marella had learned that Biana's way of taking control of the stage tended to allow her to stay invisible. There was no guarantee that she'd try the same thing again, but Marella kept her guard up.

"It suits what I want," Marella replied. Her fan wasn't really a traditional fan at all, there was no leaf, only the skeleton. She didn't take her eyes off of Biana for a moment. She was lightly swaying, her hands adjusting the grip she held on her daggers, her eyes looking around as if planning her move.

Paying too much attention was a mistake.

It was as if Biana had completely disappeared, weaving in between particles of light.

"There was a time when two stars shined together."

Biana appeared in front of her, swinging a dagger, and Marella could barely fold her fan in time to block it. She huffed. Is that how it is? That's what you choose to sing about?

"Those two stars had promised to shine forever," Marella continued. Two can play that game.

"But then what had happened in the end?"

"The answer to that varies and depends," Biana finished.

☆ REVUE OF VOWS ☆

"What the hell are you talking about?" Marella asked. "It depends? You and I both know what happened."

She was hoping that Biana would show some kind of reaction; freeze or hesitate or act brashly in irritation, but instead, she continued moving so gracefully, and Marella struggled to keep up with her. Well, it was always like that, wasn't it?

"I wonder if a light like ours was ever meant to shine."

"You're being misleading!" Marella snapped, blocking one dagger and then the next, trying to keep herself calm against the beautiful storm that was Biana Vacker.

"Or that was what I'd thought for a long time."

An attack, a block, then it was repeated again and again. Two fires burning, and one would inevitably devour the other. Marella knew that Biana was the brighter star, the harsher flame, the better one, but that didn't stop her from wanting to show herself, show that her shine mattered too.

"I wondered if two stars could combine as one, If their shared light could shine brighter than the sun."

Marella opened her mouth to demand more, to demand why Biana chose to sing about this, why Biana sounded almost desperate, but she kept her mouth shut.

"In a world where each star must shine the brightest, In a world where we must climb the highest, What am I meant to do to rise to the summit?"

"So what?" Marella asked. "So. What. Did our friendship in middle school mean nothing to you? Did the time we dated last year mean nothing to you? Was I just an obstacle for you to clear, for you to leave behind? I'd like to remind you that you've always been better than me, so what is your problem?"

"With someone who refuses to commit?"

The stage began shifting, trapdoors opening around them so large mirrors could be brought up, surrounding them. Dozens upon dozens of reflections were flooding her vision, enough reflections of purple and orange that she was completely disoriented. Which person wearing purple was the real Biana? Marella could only whirl around and guess, blocking each swipe of a dagger, leaning back to avoid the other.

"To the journey, the climb, the brutal way up."

Round and around and around they were spinning, spinning, spinning. Block and parry, go for an attack, dodge and retreat. They all felt like moves to a long, drawn-out, elaborate dance, and Marella was only now learning how to dance. Each reflection drew her gaze, her eyes drawn to every angle of Biana Vacker.

"It's all I can do to reach greater heights, Move on, move forward towards the light."

The constant spinning only made her head ache, but Marella thought that there was almost some sort of explanation in what Biana was singing. Not much, but it was more than what Biana had offered back then, when they'd broken up at the end of their first year of Foxfire.

Still—singing, an explanation, it wasn't enough for her. A vague explanation didn't erase what had happened, it didn't erase the pain she felt hearing Biana tell her that she wasn't good enough. It didn't erase the heartbreak, and nothing ever would.

Biana, Biana, Biana, singing, dancing, everywhere she could see. Overpowering, dazzling, blinding, how could Marella compare?

She closed her eyes, letting the world go dark. It felt like her other senses were heightened, able to hear Biana's light footsteps rather being confused, confused, confused by her. The slightest movement, and she could block an attack with her fan. The confusion, the shock, the disbelief, Marella could work through it like this, could think about it without being overpowered.

It was a little more freeing, really, the speed she could dance now that she was blocking everything out. Her fingers tingled with warmth, spreading to the rest of her as if she were on fire. With a deep breath, Marella opened her eyes and bright purple had been replaced with orange in all the reflections, a bright, burning light, and she really had been set ablaze.

A quick spin, and a flick of her wrist, and that fire was bursting all around her, hitting the mirrors. They charred, they cracked, they shattered into ash and dust. Small pillars rose all around the stage; in each a flame that had been lit.

"Marella, that's dangerous!" Biana said, the first words that she had spoken since she'd began singing.

"You wonder why you can't make the ascension, How could you when you're filled with indecision?"

Marella sang, thrusting her fan into the fire, watching as the points at the end of the fan stayed lit.

"Marella, what are you doing?" Biana asked.

"Just pick something already, just make your choice, Don't give me false hope with your siren voice."

"Marella!" Biana called out. "What are you doing?"

Marella charged forward, attacking Biana with all she had in her bright, burning glory. A star shining at its brightest, an explosive supernova. The fire burned, it scorched.

"Everything we have now, are you going to burn it all until there's nothing left?"

"You can't make it to the top if you keep acting like that, Stoop down to my level, or continue your combat, Just learn to pick one!"

"I don't know what you mean by that."

Fire licked at her heart, pumping faster and faster.

"Shatter my heart, and leave me behind, Or turn away from the light, our hands intertwined."

"Does it have to be one or the other?" Biana asked, then opened her mouth to sing.

"Must all my options leave the world to burn to dust? Can't I rise to the top, and still have your trust?"

"Now you ask that," Marella muttered, a wry smile forming on her face. "Shouldn't you have thought about that in the beginning? We wouldn't have to be doing this if you decided to ask me, or did literally anything else."

The fires flared brightly, then began to dim, similarly to how the brightness of a supernova preceded the star's death.

"Shatter my heart, and leave me behind, (shatter your heart) Or turn away from the light, our hands intertwined. Just learn to pick one! (I refuse to pick one!)

"Oh, and by the way," Marella said, and her fan cut clean through the golden thread that held Biana's jacket, "you never did lose my trust."

Biana's jacket fell to the floor. All the flames went out, and all the charred mess her flames had caused disappeared, leaving a blank slate for a stage.

"Position Zero!" Marella declared, folding her fan so she could jab it into the ground. "This is Marella Redek!"

"Audition five! Over!" Silveny announced. "Marella win!"

The curtains closed.

"The flames didn't burn me," Biana said.

Marella raised an eyebrow.

"It didn't sound like you want nothing to do with me anymore," she explained.

Marella sighed. "Fires aren't just about destruction, did you forget that?"

Her eyes widened. "I'm sorry, for everything. I never said it before, but I do mean it."

Marella sat down, turning away from her. "Fires' cleansing and all that sh*t aside, that doesn't erase the things you said to me, back then. It doesn't erase the fact that you told me I wasn't good enough."

"I know," came a whisper that sounded so much nearer.

Marella could feel a presence near her back as Biana presumably sat down, but they didn't make any contact.

"I regret every word I said to you. I should have never ignored your brilliant shine like that, solely because I was afraid of being able to move forward, because of my own insecurities. You didn't deserve that. Do you think it's possible to start our relationship anew?"

"You were right in some ways," Marella said, looking forward, staring at a wall. "I wasn't trying to be the best actor I could be. I worked so damn hard after that, trying to prove myself that I could shine as bright as the pretty Biana Vacker."

"And you did."

"But even if my shine wasn't as brilliant as it is now, I still wouldn't have deserved to hear what you had told me."

A pause, a breath. "You're right about that. It's not your light as a star that attracted me to you, it was you at your core. Bright light or not, you deserved better, and I want to do better for you. So, Marella, do you think we can start over?"

"I don't know," she confessed, even though her heart screamed at her to just say yes, yes, yes!

"Okay. I won't pressure you, and I don't blame you."

Marella closed her eyes and sighed. "It's not a no. Just... let me think about it, okay?"

Biana's voice was filled with relief as she replied with "Okay."

After all, despite not facing each other at all during this conversation, sitting back to back, they'd been holding hands the entire time.

☆ LEADERBOARD ☆

1. — Fitz Vacker

2. ↑ Keefe Sencen

3. ↑ Marella Redek

4. ↓ Biana Vacker

5. — Linh Song

6. ↑ Sophie Foster

7. ↓ Tam Song

8. ↑ Stina Heks

9. ↓ Dex Dizznee

☆ ☆

•~•~•~•~•~•

Kotlc taglist: @keefeinnit , @my-swan-song , @impostertamsong , @subrosasteath , @when-wax-wings-melt

Want to be added/removed from the taglist? Just let me know!

#stina heks #sophie foster #hekster #marella redek #biana vacker #marelliana #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc fanfiction #ravi writes a thing #won't you shine with me (oh distant star of mine)

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animereaderinsertwriter · 2 years

Text

Hey Princess (Jean Kirstein x Reader)

Part III

Part I

Part II

Description: Jean Kirstein is the drummer and songwriter for The 104th, a band he's put his heart and soul into. (Y/N) is his best friend, an aspiring cafe owner who supports him in every way she can. This is their story of rags to riches; or, how both of them realize that there might be more to life than their ambitions, and that they might have been in love all along.

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Probably alcohol use? idk, havent written that far. This fic is pretty tame, so not a lot going on here.

Excerpt: As she made all the sandwiches her friends ordered, (Y/N) couldn’t help but wonder when they had gotten this bad, her feelings for him. In the beginning, it had started as a teeny, tiny crush— a shallow, unassuming reaction to having been introduced to a handsome stranger by a suggestive Sasha— but then (Y/N) had learned more about Jean, had gotten to know him, had stayed up all night with him on Connie and Sasha’s rooftop and talked with him until their voices were gone and the sun was rising to meet the city’s skyline, and slowly but surely, she’d fallen in love with him. Now, just watching him smile was enough to constrict her throat, and brushing hands with him felt like sunburn on her brain. Really, it was almost pathetic— but (Y/N) didn’t care. Jean was more worthy of her love than anyone she had ever met (his long-standing crush on Mikasa notwithstanding) and she’d be damned if she’d be ashamed of it.

ao3 link here

Drunk as hell and unsure of whether or not he was hallucinating, Jean stumbled out of the chair he was in and tried valiantly to zip up his pants as he hopped over the woman whose name he doesn't know to chase after the woman whose name he did know and whose face he'd pictured as he was being pleasured.

"Oh, boy," said Sasha, who was standing in the doorway, eyes wide. "I didn't see that one coming, Jeanbo, I really didn't."

"Yeah, well, neither did I," he said, shame burning in his gut. "Where did she go?"

"Downstairs," Sasha replied, glancing in that direction. "After that… I dunno. Maybe back to the hotel?"

"Which hotel?" he asked, snatching his shirt from where it lay crumpled in a corner. When Sasha took too long to respond, he grabbed her by the shoulders and repeated, "Sash, which hotel?"

It was then that he noticed the tears filling her eyes.

"Oh, Sasha." He pulled her close, and she wrapped her arms around him. "Don't cry. It's gonna be alright, I just— I just gotta go after her."

"This is all my fault," she sniffled into his shirt. "You haven't been happy lately— nobody has been happy lately— and I thought that bringing (Y/N ( would be a nice surprise, but— but I fucked it all up!"

Jean loved Sasha, he really did, but he needed to find (Y/N) now.

"Okay, no," he said, disentangling himself from her. "You can't think like that, but, like, I'm too drunk to help you not think like that, so I'm gonna need you to buck up for me, soldier."

Sasha's lower lip trembled, but she nodded.

"Okay, good," he said. "Now, I need you to drive me because I don't feel like getting a taxi."

"But I didn't bring a car!" Sasha protested.

"Then let's find someone who has one, yeah?"

As it turned out, finding someone willing to loan a celebrity their car was easier than Jean had anticipated. Before he quite knew what was happening, Sasha was driving like a maniac in someone else's Ferrari, weaving in and out of traffic in a way that made Jean's stomach churn. When she finally pulled over, Jean masterfully conquered his urge to vomit as he got out of the car and stumbled up the steps to the hotel, but before he could enter it, Sasha caught him by the hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"You can't go in there like that," Sasha advised, looking him up and down like she might feral o'possum that was sitting in the front seat of her car. "You need to sober up and get your head on straight first."

"Fuck being sober," he spat more vehemently than he meant to. "I just need to fix this, need to tell her—"

"You're not listening," Sasha insisted. "(Y/N) is extremely vulnerable right now, and if you go in with some kind of half-baked apology, it won't be pretty. You need to stand right here for just a second and figure out what your intentions are before you go in there and fuck everything up."

That… was something Jean hadn't given much thought to. He had to admit that his only intention up to this point had been to fix things— the how of it hadn't even crossed his mind. As for what he would even say, he wasn't sure of that either. What could he possibly say anyway? That he was in love with her? That he had been desperate to find some half-baked replacement for her just for one night so that he could feel less like a loser?

Was he even ready for a confession like that? Would it even matter, in the end? (Y/N) had her own plans, her own life— things that were working out well for her, things that didn't leave room for him and the life he'd chosen.

Damn Sasha for making sense for once.

"I love her," he admitted without quite meaning to, his voice cracking with the weight of the conflict in his chest. "I really do."

"Oh Jean," Sasha murmured, opening her arms to hug him. "I know you do."

Sasha's embrace was warm, and she smelled like cooking spices, sweat, and glitter from the stage. Jean had always thought that she smelled like home.

"It's pathetic," he said into her hair, his nose burning with the urge to cry. "I write songs about her like some depressed emo kid, and— and they sell like hotcakes, but the only one I want to listen to them is her."

"I know, Jean."

"I think about her all the time, Sash, I can't get her out of my head."

"I know, Jean."

He pulled away then, looking down at her.

"Then what do I do?"

Sasha thought for a moment, and Jean waited patiently. Eventually, however, she only shrugged.

"I dunno, Jean."

She grinned, and he scowled.

"Wow, really helpful."

"Yeah, yeah." Sasha rolled her eyes. "But seriously, Jean, I can't make this decision for you. You need to be honest with her. If you're not ready for that, you need to be ready to face the repercussions of not doing so. Do you understand?"

Jean nodded.

“Yeah.” He paused, then added, “Yeah. Honesty it is, then. There’s no time like the present, I guess.”

Sasha grinned at him.

“Carpe diem, Jeanbo!”

“Ooh, Latin,” he winked. “Fancy.”

Sasha smacked him playfully.

"Go on, Jeanbo," she told him gently, with a smile that broke his heart. "You got this."

He gave her a somewhat wobbly smile and turned to tackle the steps— a challenging feat for someone as drunk as he was. From that point on, Jean thought no father than the next step, and no deeper than which buttons to punch on the elevator to get to (Y/N)'s floor. It was only when he found himself knocking on (Y/N)'s hotel room door that he considered that he maybe should have thought of something to say before seeing her tear-stained face as, against all odds, she opened her door to him.

"Hey, Jean," she greeted him with a weak, watery smile. "Sorry about earlier, I just— it was really awkward and I got spooked, that's all— I really hope you aren't upse—"

Jean didn't hear a word she said. He placed a palm on the side of her face, brushed a thumb through the wetness on her cheek, and asked,

"Why are you crying?"

A few different emotions that Jean wasn't able to decipher flickered across (Y/N)'s face before she very obviously forced a smile and said,

"Well, I— something came up at work, and I— I have to go, Jean. I was just packing, you see, and I was sad that I wouldn't get to see everyone before I left, you know?"

It was a lie. Even blind-drunk, Jean knew that. It took him a little longer to figure out why she would lie, but once he did, hope blossomed in his chest as it had scarcely dared to bloom before.

"I'm sorry," he replied nonsensically. "I'm so sorry, princess. I've hurt you."

That smile— so broken— never wavered.

"You haven't, Jean," she told him, tears rolling over the pretty dimple her smile made in her cheek. "I'm sorry, but I've got to go now. Something has come up back home, and I—"

Jean surged forward and kissed her. He took her face in both his hands and kissed her hard and deep, and when she parted her lips, he slipped his tongue between them, tasting her.

The moment lasted forever only an instant. (Y/N) pulled away; Jean gave chase, moving even as she did, but she only backed further away.

"I can't," she said, her smiling mask having finally fallen. Her eyes were full of hurt, and her arms came around her own body as she backed away. It broke Jean's heart. "I can't— I can't."

No. No, no, no, it was all going so terribly wrong— so Jean said the only thing he knew to say.

"I love you," he said. "I've always loved you."

(Y/N) froze. Her hurt melted into confusion, and Jean took full advantage of that as he grabbed her by the wrist, keeping her from moving further away from him.

"I'm sorry," he said once more. "I know this is all fucked up, and there's nothing I can do to fix that, but—"

He broke off for a moment, taking in the lovely curves of her face, then forced himself to continue.

"But it's the truth. It always has been."

(Y/N) looked at him— but not with shock as he had expected. She looked at him with sadness, disappointment, and doubt.

"I don't believe you," she said, pulling her arm away from him. He let her go, though his fingertips dragged along her wrist, reluctant to let her get too very far; despite Jean's hopes and wishes, she moved to the half-packed suitcase in her bed and began filling it once more, haphazardly flinging clothes inside it as she evidently had been before Jean knocked on her door, all the while rationalizing why what Jean had told her couldn't be true at all.

"… never even call anymore, and even if you did— even if nothing had changed since the day you left our hometown— then that still couldn't be true because of— because of what I saw earlier." (Y/N) shook her head, as if trying to clear her mind. "I mean, like, you called her princess, right? Like the song you wrote?"

Oh no. No, no, no— this night might have taken a lot from him, but it wouldn't take this. Not the work he'd done for so many years, not the song he'd hoped she'd hear, truly hear, and know it to be hers— he'd have to be dead to let that happen. Fuck his pride, fuck his insecurity, and fuck who he'd been ten minutes ago. He'd sacrifice it all for her to know the truth.

"What you saw—"

Jean cut himself off, floundered for a moment, then said,

"It isn't what you think— I mean, it is— but not exactly," he explained, approaching (Y/N) slowly, as though not to spook her. She wouldn't turn to face him, but that was fine; Jean just put a hand over hers and kept talking. "Whatever you saw, whatever you heard, I wrote that song for you. I wrote it daydreaming about you, wishing I could be your knight in shining armor, the guy you could fall in love with; I wrote it longing for you, wishing I could call you and tell you exactly how I felt."

Jean swallowed thickly, and after a raw breath, he said,

"That girl— what you saw— that was a bad decision, I'll admit, but I came by it honestly. I was only ever thinking of you, imagining you. I did what I did mostly just to see if I still could. You don't have to believe me, but that's the truth. All of it."

Jean looked and saw that (Y/N) was crying still. Her shoulders didn't shake, her face didn't move, but tears fell all the same. Slowly, she moved her hand from beneath his and continued packing, and he let her, simply watching, waiting.

"Why now?" she asked, her voice cracking beneath the weight of her feelings. "Why wait until this moment to tell me these things?"

"Because…"

Jean didn't really have a good answer, so he decided the truth must once again suffice in lieu of something better.

"Because you're here. Because you're trying to leave and I'm afraid, so afraid of losing you that everything else has ceased to matter to me. Besides…"

He reached out to reclaim her hand, kissed her knuckles, and said,

"I figure if you've already got one foot out the door, then I have no reason to suppose that telling you the truth will hurt more than it'll help."

(Y/N) stopped packing them and looked up at him, her eyes bright and glistening. Jean wanted very badly to kiss her once more, but he held back. He only wanted to kiss her if that was what she wanted, and to him, it still looked like she wanted to run away as far and as fast as she could manage.

"I don't know what to say," she told him, her hands resting on the stack of clothes before her, her eyes still and somber as they searched his face.

"Then don't say anything." Jean stepped forward, and (Y/N) faced him then, allowing him to come closer. "Let me tell you everything, and you can be my judge, my jury."

(Y/N) looked at him doubtfully, but turned and sat on the edge of her bed, shoving her suitcase aside to make room for him to sit beside her. Jean did so, and then he found himself unable to stop talking, the floodgates finally opened as he bared his heart. He couldn't have said where he began, or where he ended in the telling of his tale, but the one thing he did know was that by the end, he had truly told all.

"I wish to God I had kissed you that night on your front porch," he told (Y/N) earnestly, his heart pounding. "I wanted to so badly— but I was terrified of doing it. I didn't want to lose you."

He reached for her hand once more, and she allowed him to take it.

"I don't want to lose you now, either.”

(Y/N) was silent for a moment, and Jean was afraid she might tell him to leave— but then she turned to look up at him and said what he’d never thought he’d hear from her lips.

“I love you, Jean,” she told him, her eyes bright and shining, “I always have. But… but I don’t know where we should go from here. What does this change?”

The moment was horribly fragile, and Jean was still definitely not sober, but the answer came surprisingly easy to him.

“Well,” he said, “if you’d have me, I’d like to try and make this work between us. I’m tired of living half in hell, half in hope.”

He tried for a smile, and was surprised when (Y/N) threw her arms around him, embracing him. In return, he wrapped his arms around her, buried his nose in her hair, and inhaled deeply.

“Stay with me tonight,” (Y/N) said into his chest. “I have an extra toothbrush, and there’s a lot we need to talk about.”

Jean’s heart soared.

“Of course,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll always stay for you.”

And he did.

Tag list: @usernamehere91

#attack on titan #aot x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader #fluff #aot smut #aot fanfiction #aot imagine #shingeki no kyoujin #snk #snk x y/n #snk x reader

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imbrium-mare · 3 years

Text

A Thousand Sunsets

Marauders era

Hello. So I havent written a proper fic in AGES, let alone published one, but the jily discord had me all emotional today and this just kind of happened. Basically birthed from (1) my anger that lily's life was never expanded upon other than where it related to guys, (2) the absolute tragedy of nearly an entire group of friends dying at twenty one and what it would be like to survive it, and (3) @sirenicc and @thequibblah s amazing fics about death in the first wizarding war. I'll edit and post it on ao3 tomorrow, but its half past two and I wrote this on the notes app on my phone in the park closest to my house and I really should be getting to bed, so you can have this for now. Major character death and angst to follow. Let me know what you guys think!

Mary Macdonald didn't cry at funerals. It felt like too much of a spectacle, there with all the other mourners around her. She felt as if she was performing her grief, like she was taking the attention off of the dead. She always waited until she was home, with her pillow and her tea and the memories of her loved ones crowding her. But not at the funeral. Never at the funeral.

Except now. Mary stood off to the side in the cramped graveyard, tears streaking her red cheeks. The early November wind had long since numbed her nose, but she knew that if it hadn't she'd feel it running. On the horizon, behind the church, the sun was setting. The sky streaked red and orange above her, unusually clear for winter in England. Mary took it as a sign. She had insisted they postpone the burial until after dark. Lily loved sunsets, and she deserved to watch this last one.

Hell, Lily deserved a thousand sunsets. She deserved a lot more than that, deserved to laugh again and hold her son again and dance in the rain again. But all Mary could give her was a sunset and her tears.

The funeral was packed. Wizards filled the cemetalery and crowded the streets outside. More than tears, she heard laughter. Children oohed as Ministry wizards Transfigured the war memorial in the square into a towering replica of James and Lily, baby Harry in their arms. A group of young wizards behind her were discussing what charms would conjure the prettiest, most long lasting for their party later tonight.

Mary was crying, but she wanted to scream. Because you're not supposed to cry at funerals. Because this wasn't any fucking funeral, it was Lily's fucking funeral, and didn't they understand that?

But she knew she couldn't blame people for celebrating. Not when the war was over and Voldemort was gone. The relief coated the air, had started to settle into her muscles. And she was happy, she supposed, that her friend would be remembered. That she'd saved the world. That so many people had come to see her go.

But that was the thing. The Lily they were celebrating wasn't Mary's Lily. Their Lily was a loving mother, a selfless woman who'd taken a killing curse for her son. Who'd sacrificed everything for the world. Their lily was young, and beautiful, and kind. And sure, Mary's Lily was all those things too. But she was so much more than that.

Her Lily was eleven, all messy morning hair and knobbly elbows, yelling at Mary for not doing her Potions' essay last night before relenting and handing over her own to be copied.

Her Lily was thirteen and jumping excitedly on her four poster bed when Mary told her that Fourth Year Amos Diggory had asked her to Hogsmeade. Then she'd climbed down and turned the dormitory upside down helping Mary pick out an outfit.

A month later Amos was seen snogging a Fourth Year Hufflepuff, and it was her Lily that held her as she cried and cursed his name as creatively as any thirteen year old could.

Her Lily was fifteen, hiding behind a tapestry in the fifth floor corridor and hexing Mulciber bright purple after she heard what he'd done to Mary the previous day. Mcgonagall knew who'd done it when no one on the staff could reverse the spell, but her Lily had held her head up high and denied it. She was stuck in detention until the spell faded two weeks later, but her Lily didn't care.

Her Lily was sixteen and admitting that ok, maybe James potter wasn't that bad.

She was seventeen and dragging Mary and Alice and Marlene out onto the grounds for a snowball fight when they should have been studying for NEWTS.

She was eighteen, drunk on firewhiskey in a Muggle parking lot, helping Sirius charm the heavens into opening up above them so she could dance with James in the rain.

She was eighteen and one day, curled up in bed with a cold and a hangover and cursing Mary for letting her drink so much.

She was nineteen and spinning in a white dress, he laugh filling the air and her smile brightening the room.

She was twenty and standing by Mary as they buried Dorcas, then the Prewett brothers, and Benjy Fenwick. Not Marlene Mckinnon, though -- Lily wasn't allowed to go.

Her Lily was twenty and in hiding with her son and her husband, trying to stay alive, and she wrote Mary about toy broomsticks and Christmas ornaments and her crazy old neighbor.

Her Lily was twenty one and dead. Her Lily was twenty one and she was smart and brave, and funny, and she gave the best hugs. Her Lily was sentimental about the seasons changing and watched the sun set from her Dormitory window every day for seven years. Her Lily got loud when she was angry and cried when her sister didn't come to her wedding and liked reading Muggle classics and hexing any asshole who hurt her friends. Her Lily had given birth to the only known survivor of the Killing Curse, because that was just something Lily would do, and that was all anyone could talk about. That was all anyone would remember.

Except Mary. Mary remembered Lily alive, not just dead. Mary remembered Dorcas and Marlene and Alice, who couldn't even remember her own name. Mary had to remember, because if she didn't, who would? And Mary had to cry, even if she never cried at funerals, because near everyone else was happy.

She watched as the sun disappeared below the horizon, and the sky went from red to pink to purple. She imagined Lily, on the window ledge in their dormitory, clutching a book and staring dreamily at the sky.

Mary joined Remus, and together they levitated the two caskets into the grave. And just like that, her Lily was gone, and she was still crying.

Mary Macdonald went home, eyes dry and head aching. And when Godric's Hollow emptied out, and Lilys name was just a footnote in a History textbook, she made sure to watch the sunset and dance in the rain and read all her best friend's favorite books. Because if she didn't, who would?

#lily evans #james potter #marauders #maruaders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders angst #major character death #minor character perspective

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thisissirius · 3 years

Text

because 4x01 happened and i had feelings about it. the therapy stuff is taken directly from my own counselling sessions. i might not have gone through a tsunami and a truck bombing, but i’ve seen some shit lol. ANYWAY. i hope y’all like this.

for @capseycartwright who always deserves the best buck content and quality sassy eddie <3

need help (but can you help me? [ao3 link] buck, buck/eddie, hurt/comfort, therapy

Eddie leaned against the doorjamb to his bathroom, arms folded across his chest. “I hear you’re cheating on me with a Covid crush?”

Buck snorted. “You’ve been talking to Chim.”

“More like had to listen to him,” Eddie corrected. He met Buck’s eyes through the mirror.

“You know I would never—”

“I know, Buck,” Eddie said quickly. He straightened up, came to stand next to Buck at the basin. Buck looked to the left, lips quirking up. Before he could say anything, Eddie leaned in, resting his head on Buck’s shoulder, their eyes meeting in the mirror again. “I trust you.”

Fingers curling around the edge of the basin, Buck sighed. “I should just tell them.”

Eddie kissed Buck’s neck. “You don’t owe anybody anything.”

Silence lapsed between them.

“When you’re ready to tell people, you will,” Eddie said, sliding a hand up Buck’s back, scratching through his hair and then pulled back. “Breakfast in half an hour. Chris is already up.”

“Fuck you,” Buck said with a laugh.

Eddie blew him a kiss and tapped the doorframe on his way out.

_________

Buck wasn’t keeping it a secret deliberately.

Quarantine was difficult. It wasn’t as bad for him as it was for a lot of people given that he was still able to work, but he hadn’t been alone since the quarantine had started. It had started to get too much for him to handle around the second month.

“I used to think I was lonely,” he said, leaning on his desk.

Lisa nodded, sitting back in her chair. “And now?”

“I havent been for a while,” he said. “But not because of quarantine. That’s just made me realize I love my workmates but living with them has been difficult.”

“You’re ready for them to go home.”

Buck huffed a short laugh. “Yeah, I am. Well. I’m sad Eddie’s gone, but I know why he had to.”

Lisa’s face remained impassive. It was one of the reasons Buck liked her. “Do you miss him?”

Missed was an understatement. Though Hen and Eddie had gone home and Buck had been glad to have his apartment mostly to himself, that didn’t stop him missing Eddie like a phantom limb. It had been difficult without Chris around, moreso for Eddie, but Buck had missed him too. That would change now, as long as they were careful and took precautions, and Buck wanted to go back to having Eddie and Chris to himself—without Chm around. “I just wish Chim would leave.”

“Hmm,” Lisa said.

“Not because I’m sick of him,” Buck said. “It’s just hard when he’s here. I feel like I can’t be myself.”

Lisa stared at him. “You can with Eddie?”

“Yeah,” Buck said. “I can.”

“Then start with that,” Lisa said. “Keeping it a secret is taxing on you, and I can imagine on Eddie, but if the two of you have decided it works for you, then only you get to decide when you tell your friends and family.”

“I know.” Buck blew out a slow breath. “Thanks, Lisa.”

“It’s what I’m here for, Buck,” she said with a smile. “However, that’s the end of the session and I have to go. If you need anything, text me, alright?”

Buck nodded, thumb hovering over the mousepad. “I will. Thanks again.”

The sign off was always awkward over Zoom, but Buck hadn’t dealt well with face to face sessions. When he closed his laptop, he sat back in his chair, hearing Maddie’s laugh through the speakers of Chim’s laptop. Great. Rolling his eyes, Buck cast a quick eye at the clock. Not long and they had to be at work.

_________

“Well,” Eddie said. “At least it’s not a tsunami.”

Buck gave him a look. “Are you kidding me?”

Eddie was smiling, the dick, and Buck elbowed him. “Ow,” he said through a laugh. Sobering quickly, he reached out, squeezed Buck’s arm as best he was able in their gear. “It’ll be alright.”

“I can’t do it again, Eddie.”

Eddie turned. “Buck, look at me.”

Buck winced but did as asked. They didn’t have long before they’d be on the roof.

“I’ve got you, hear me? No matter what, you’re not on your own this time.”

I wasn’t before, Buck didn’t say. “Okay.”

“You hearing me?”

“Yes, Eddie, I got you.”

Eddie smirked. “Don’t sass me, Buckley.”

“I’ll do whatever Ilike,” Buck said mulishly, but he couldn’t stop the smile from forming. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“Anytime,” Eddie said, dropping his voice. “Now let’s get this done, alright?”

_____________________

Buck massaged his temples. “It was a disaster. Literally.”

“It was,” Lisa agreed.

“With everything that went on, it reminded me of the tsunami.”

Lisa nodded sympathetically. “That must have been difficult.”

It took Buck a minute to find his voice. “I had a job to do this time as well and I didn’t have Chris to look out for.” When he realised Lisa looked ready to speak, Buck powered on. “Not that I resented looking out for Chris. I know—you know how I feel about that and that I’ll probably always regret it, but I had Eddie this time. I had—a job and someone to help me.”

“Okay,” Lisa said. It wasn’t a dismissal, and Buck nodded. “I know how much trust you have in Eddie, Buck. I just wonder how much you have in yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve talked about the truck bombing, the tsunami. We’ve talked about the blood clots and the lawsuit,” and Buck winces at the reminder, “and throughout all of that you mention everything you’ve done wrong.”

Buck frowned. “Yeah?”

“What about the things you did right?”

There was a long silence.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I want you to do something for me, okay?”

Buck waited for her to finish, not knowing how to answer.

“Before you next call me, I want you to write down five things you’ve done right in the time you’ve been working. I would prefer it to be related to those incidents we discussed, but I will take other things as well.”

“I—” Buck started.

“If you can’t, it’s okay. I just want you to try.”

“Okay,” Buck said eventually. “I’ll try.”

_____________________

Maddie narrowed her eyes. “So when do I get hear about it?”

“Never,” Buck said, not having to ask what she meant. “It’s private, Mads.”

“Even from me?” Maddie sounded hurt. Buck hated himself just a little but he was taking to heart the things Lisa told him; he and Eddie were the only ones with the right to tell people that they were in a relationship, nobody else could decide for them.

Reaching out, he touched the screen, wishing he could hold her hand. “It’s not what you think, I promise you that. When I’m ready to tell you, I will.”

There was a long pause, but Maddie shut off the call and she didn’t look annoyed. “Okay. I am here if you need me.”

“I know,” Buck said. He missed his sister terribly, but was determined to make Chim leave before he met her himself. . “I wish I could convince Chim to come home.”

Maddie’s face shifted. She looked sad and Buck wished he could change that too. “I’m just as scared as he is. I shouldn’t be doing this alone.”

“Want me to kick his ass?”

Shaking her head, Maddie at least let out a little laugh, so Buck counted it as a win. “No.”

“Maybe this,” Buck said, waving a hand behind him to encompass everything that had happened. “Will shake him up. He hasn’t come home yet.”

“He hasn’t?” Maddie frowned. “Didn’t he finish work with you?”

“I think Hen took him out,” Buck said. “Maybe she’s doing the yelling for you.”

There was the trace of a smile on her face. “I just want him want this as much as I do.”

“Hey,”Buck said, leaning forward. “If there’s one thing I do know about Chim right now, it’s that he’s desperate to be a dad with you, Mads. He’s been going through all my parenting books while we’ve been in lockdown.”

Maddie paused. “Why do you have parenting books?”

“For Chris,” Buck said, rolling his eyes. “Stop it. They were so i could help Eddie.”

“Oh,” Maddie said, and there was the sister he knew and loved so much. “If it’s for Eddie.”

“I’m going now,” Buck said, waving a hand. “Go do whatever it is you and Albert do.”

Maddie laughed and cut off the call.

___________________

“It’s my therapist,” Buck said.

Eddie looked up from cooking dinner. “What?”

“The person I’m calling.”

Eddie didn’t say anything for a long time. Buck worried it was because he was mad, but realised he was just turning off the burner. “Come here.”

Buck went, standing awkwardly next to Eddie, until Eddie reached up, wrapping his arms around Buck’s shoulders. Like a string had been cut, Buck fell against him, sorry when Eddie had to adjust his stance or send them toppling. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“You didn’t have to,” Eddie assured him, ghosting a kiss across his head. “I’m proud of you.”

“For seeing a therapist?” Buck scoffed.

Eddie pulled back, touching a hand to Buck’s face. “For telling me. I know it’s not an easy thing to do.”

Buck’s breathing was shaky, he could hear it, and he wanted to look anywhere but at Eddie’s face, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. “I wanted to make everything less messed up.”

“You’re not messed up,” Eddie snapped, then sighed. “I’m sorry. You might feel that way, but I don’t see messed up.”

“What do you see?”

“I see the man I love hurting and struggling.”

The words came out so easily that Buck was almost physically struck by them. “Eddie.”

“I love you,” Eddie said quietly. Buck knew what a gift it was to be loved by someone like Eddie. “I’m behind you no matter what.”

“I know,” Buck said, just as quiet. “I love you too. I just needed—quarantine got to me and I know it did to you—”

“You’re allowed to feel things too. It’s not a competition.”

Buck shrugged. “I know you had Chris.”

“And you had Maddie and me.”

“You were there.”

Eddie nodded, but made a face. “Not in the way we both wanted. It killed me not to be able to touch you or hold you in the way I’m used to.”

“Same.” Buck leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to Eddie’s mouth. “We’re together now.”

“Yeah, we are,” Eddie said, the smile on his face as brilliant as Buck felt. “Come on. Dinner’ll be ready soon and then you can challenge Chris to a lego battle.”

Buck snorted. “I’ll lose. I always do.”

“The joy of being a father,” Eddie said.

Again, Buck was struck by the words, and thought of Maddie. “I am, huh?”

Turning back to the stove, Eddie looked over his shoulder. “You will be.”

It sounded like a hell of a promise.

The next time Buck spoke to Lisa, he was sure he would have those five things she wanted. But if he didn’t, he could talk about Eddie. About Chris, his family, the future. He had something to look forward to and that made everything look brighter.

#buddie fic #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 #fic by me #otp: i forgive you #911 spoilers

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mrs-theirin · 3 years

Note

also! you still havent told me about eden's exes *nudge wink*

only took me a full year ��

all the others (& you)

ship: hawke x varric (among others) wc: 1,494 rating: t notes: it’s about all of eden’s relationships what more could you want

[AO3 link]

age 4

Frayed, dirty, and perfect. Dust collects on her stuffed animal like cobwebs in an attic.

A tiny Eden Hawke wraps her small hands around his knitted face and calls him, “bubby,” baby-speak for, “boyfriend”. She loves him. She loves him as she loves cake, as she loves bubble baths, as she loves when her father creates explosions from his staff, orange and red and yellow sparking in a dance of flame.

When the neighbor runs away from her, screaming about danger Eden doesn’t understand, she’s forced to leave Bubby in that same attic, collecting cobwebs like the rest of it all. It hurts just as bad as any breakup.

age 9

Now taught to be cautious around others, Eden is scared to speak. A goddess with golden hair and eyes as green as emeralds walks by her home every day, and she is enraptured. She doesn’t understand what she feels, not really, but she stares, bright blue eyes following the girl as she passes.

On a day where the sky opens up and rain pours from the clouds, the girl slips. Ever helpful, Eden rushes to her aid, helping her to her feet with blush spreading as far as her neck. Hands brush. The girl’s normally sunny hair is darkened with mud and Eden sees her for what she really is, an angel fallen from grace. Dirtied from the mud, the girl looks much more human.

Attainable.

They have a short relationship, but a sweet one. Neither realize the gravity of their quick pecks on the cheek or playful hand holding. When the girl moves to a new home, Eden feels hollow and alone. Her angel has returned home, and she is shackled back to the cold, dark house, instead being directed to the role of big sister. The twins are two years old now, after all. Someone has to look after them.

age 14

With the new ability to control her magic, Eden is allowed a little farther out of the house. Only permitted to roam the grass fields beside their home, she frolics, relishing in the way the tall grains of wheat tickle her skin.

When two brown eyes peek out at her through the grass, the same color as his skin, she screams and falls to the ground. A wide, gap-toothed grin follows, and a warm hand helps her to her feet, steadying her as she regains her balance. He’s 16, old enough to wander out by himself, he says. She wouldn’t know, she replies.

“Can I show you something?” he asks.

Daring a quick glance at her house, uneasy, she nods slowly, tightening her grip on his hand as he drags her away, running at top speed. With her feet pounding against the ground, her black hair flying in the wind, the wheat whipping against her skin, she has never felt more alive. He is not just showing her what it is to be free from her house, he’s showing her what it’s like to be free. Free of worry, free of cares, free of responsibilities. He whisks her away to a secret spot by the water and returns her a different girl.

When it’s discovered Eden has been running off unsupervised for months—and with a boy, no less—she’s forbidden to leave the house. The boy looks for her every now and then. One day he stops coming.

age 15

A girl with hair as red as the fire Eden can conjure replaces her last, and Eden is as grateful as one can be. Soft kisses shared behind bales of hay enlighten her. Nights of brushing each other’s hair, hands gentle and caring, hushed giggles falling from their lips. She is beautiful.

I love her, Eden thinks, and for once in her life, she is sure.

When the girl makes snowflakes with her magic, Eden is certain. She understands. She won’t run. She won’t scream. She channels the same energy Eden does, beautiful and bright, warm and cold and free. Papa warns Eden of the danger of their magic, but she doesn’t mind. They’re safe. In the hidden reaches of the Hawke barn, they’re safe. No Templar can touch them there.

When her love calls, she comes. When she beckons, she obliges. So young and hopeful, they feel as if they'll float together forever.

Eden feels the weight of a thousand pounds settle on her chest when her love is taken away, finally revealed as a mage, and swears she’ll never love another the way she loved her.

age 17

Brown hair that falls in front of his eyes like waves, eyes as dark and stormy and blue as the sea, lips as pink as a ripe peach; Edward Colmes is a god among men. A perfect gentleman, poised and refined, with a grin as charming as his speech. Eddie, he says. Call me Eddie.

Eden is trapped.

His mouth casts a spell of its own, without magic, filling Eden’s head with thoughts of love and devotion. In just a few months, Eddie has Eden wrapped around his finger tight. In a moving sea of danger, uncertainty, and doubt, Eddie is her shore.

It takes three years to notice anything’s wrong.

Eddie’s hands are possessive, not caring. Eddie’s eyes are predatory, not loving. His mouth is devouring, not gentle—devouring like the ocean during a tsunami, destroying everything in its path, looking as beautiful as ever as it does so. Being around Eddie is like being in a haze, surrounded by fog that seeps within and creates doubt, that turns thoughts into vague ideas, that twists resentment into need of reassurance. Eden loses possession of her thoughts, handing them over to Eddie with apologetic fervor.

When she’s 21 years old, her father pulls her aside. “Songbird,” he warns, warm brown eyes gentle and worried. “That boy’s no good for you.”

Instead of listening, she locks the door to Eddie’s cage herself, content to be caged for the rest of her life. Eddie visits with another’s lips whispering across his own, and she pretends not to notice. Eddie is gentle when he murmurs, “Edie,” into her ear, his kisses anything but gentle as he moves down her neck, to her chest, and below.

He is slow and tender and kind when he touches her, his thin fingers trailing down her uncorrupted body, and he is even sweeter when he is the first to take her. To claim her as his. He is all of these things, and yet, Eden feels a dark nest of horrible feelings and insecurities boiling in her chest, growing into a terrible pit in her stomach.

She hears, I love you, but he says, I own you.

She hears, You’re mine, but he says, You’re mine.

When she’s 22, he says, I’ve found someone new, and she hears, You were never worth anything anyway.

age 31

In Varric’s arms, she is worth everything.

He lies, but not to her. Never to her.

When her name is spoken on his tongue, it is like honey and wine and good bread shared with good friends. It’s like standing on top of a building to scream your love to anyone who will listen, it’s the rush of standing outside in a storm, it’s everything good wrapped into one little word: Eden.

When he sees her, really sees her—not Hawke, not the Champion, not the impossible legend the citizens of Kirkwall have built up over the years—it is like being stripped of every insecurity she’s ever had, of any grief, fear, anger, any negative emotion she’s ever felt in her life. She’s a new person when Varric looks at her.

His gaze is full of admiration. When he looks at her, there is no possession, no lust, no need for control. He is looking at her, not what he can get from her. He is looking at the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs, at the way her lips curl upwards when she’s up to no good, at the way her chest rises and falls when she’s deep in thought.

Stolen glances across the table during Wicked Grace are enough to get her heart pounding, galloping in her chest like a wild horse. Eden doesn’t have to prove herself to Varric; he’ll love her at her highest and at her lowest, when she’s painted with purple and red, when her face is bare and her lips are that perfect shade of pink, when she’s beaten down and bloody and bruised. He loves every scar, every blemish, every weird mole, because he loves her.

And she loves him. More than Bubby, more than the blonde goddess, more than the boy in the fields, more than the red-haired mage, and certainly, definitely, more than Edward Colmes.

More than herself.

More than anyone can possibly love another.

And she thinks, maybe, just maybe, all the others were worth it, if it meant she can have him now.

#eden hawke #varric tethras #varric #hawke #hawke x varric #edward colmes #dragon age #dragon age 2 #da #da2 #malcolm hawke #writing #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #quill's writing

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diamondcamefromhell · 3 years

Text

Blood Moon

Part One of the Blood Moon series

A/N: for A/N see after the fic

Blood Moon summary: Lena (pronounced as Le-na, not Leena) is a renounced witch, a grisha feared. Aleksander goes by many names, not many of which ring true. The pair is similar in more ways than one, but also as different as can be. One seeks power, another fears what the hunger might cost them both, however there is something about the darkness that invited them both. They meet in the middle, where the world collides.

Important info: this takes place before the shadow and bone/six of crows, before there even is a shadow fold, and there isnt that much information about grishaverse in those times (note i havent looked much outside what books provide) i am taking a lot of creative freedom with it!

enjoy!

Lena wasn‘t sure how she ended up here, but she knew better than to ask questions. Aleksander, as she knew him, was a kind man. To her. Or maybe she was just one more foolish girl to him, whichever it was, he had accepted her for who she was.

A blood witch, many called her. All across Ravka and even beyond. They both had extraordinary talents, but for whatever reason, Aleksander was more accepted than her. Or, as accepted as grisha could be in these times. However, Lena remembered making the King himself kneel before her, then downing his entire army to do the same.

The power she felt, the name she earned. She used to wear lifeless colours, blending in, but she wore deepest of reds now, which seemed to be more fitting. It matched Aleksanders black attire quite nicely.

She counted herself lucky to even know him by that name, as he would never use it nowadays. He was known as something else, a shadow just passing through.

Aleksander was looking at the girl now, remembering his own mother, who once pretended to go by that name too – just like Lena did now. To him, she was Telyna, but for many reasons she didn’t like sharing, she despised that name.

Telyna was who she was before she became worthy of being a blood witch, it was a time of drowning and fear and pain. She broke through, but it cost her greatly, sometimes she wondered if it cost her humanity herself.

Aleksander liked that about her, as she stood there, glowing and graceful, radiating the power she had within. He saw the army kneel against their will. The world could be theirs, as they knew it.

But he needed to get stronger, to be worthy to stand next to her.

Lena looked at the man as shadows danced around them and he caught her gaze, smirking. The shadow extended, and she couldn’t see the light anymore.

“Impressive.” She said lazily, rubbing her hands on her cloak.

“Not enough to take down an entire army.” He said, letting the shadows drop – sunlight returned making Lena cover her eyes.

“No, I’m afraid not.” She agreed as he came to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. She felt the surge of power rush through her, as a reminder that he is an amplifier. Her mind for a second thought about what she could be is she bore his bones permanently, but she chased the thought away.

“Together we could-“

“Have the Ravka, Shu Han, Fjerda. Our reach might take Ketterdam and the whole world.” She finished as Aleksander just grinned.

She glanced at him and he involuntarily stepped back. His face grew tense but there was playfulness behind his eyes.

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t do that.” She let him go, dropping herself to the grass and staring at the surrounding area. They were in an opening in a forest north of Ravka, close to the border.

“I thought we agreed not to discuss your plans to take over the world, Aleksander.” He pressed his lips tightly. This was a discussion neither of them really enjoyed.

“You almost took down the king.” Lena shot him a glance, sending him to his knees. He grunted but remained silent.

“It was for his treatment of grisha. Now he may never forget that if we wished to, we could destroy him and all he stands for.” Her voice trembled in anger. “That was his final warning.”

“Until he hurts another grisha.” Lena looked at Aleksander, who was still on his knees, staring at her. Shadows seeped out of him, seemingly not out of his will. She looked away.

“Then I will have him bring me his own head.” She said through her teeth. The woman couldn’t see Aleksander grin, as if he was twisting up a plan.

She only heard grass move and they were surrounded by darkness again. Even in it, she could see Aleksanders face change, as his shoulder relaxed, his skin began to glow. He looked better the further the darkness reached, and Lena wondered, what was happening to his soul in these moments.

Was he letting the darkness out, hence the glow, or was he letting it in, nest inside of him tainting all there is, eating him from inside out.

Lena has met Baghra once, even if she has been acquainted with Aleksander for some years now. The woman looked at her son with so much love, the girl felt herself grow jealous, even if just a little. But there was something behind her eyes there too, and only weeks later Lena had realized it was fear.

At first, she thought that it was for him, but perhaps it was for the world. Aleksander seemed to grow more and more power hungry every day he spent traveling across Ravka with her. They had no goals. After their visit to the royal court, they were both, hunted and feared.

But neither of those things really gave them power. And Aleksander wanted power.

Lena was scared to let him too close. To drink up his darkness, out of fear for becoming more like him, for wanting the world. She hated herself for what she did at court, yet she felt ecstatic about it too – using her power to it’s full potential. The fear in their faces.

She couldn’t see her cloak anymore, but the dark red was getting in her skin like permanent ink. She was owning the blood witch status. She loved being a scary story kids, to otkazat’sya. She was legend, she was seen and feared.

She hated how it made her feel. But she loved it too. She understood Aleksander better than anyone.

The sun reached her again as the man looked at her, gracing her with a full-toothed smile.

“That was better.” For a moment, he looked like a child. They never discussed their true age, but in the many lifetimes they are yet to have, perhaps they were just kids now. Two small children playing with fire they might not be able to contain.

“It was.” She said, against her better judgement.

There was a steam nearby. She felt the water as she was a Tidemaker, a name that seemed to stick to those of Small Magic who learnt how to manipulate water. She couldn’t see it behind the trees, but her lips twitched as the tried to hold back a grin.

She lifted her arm, twisting it a little, and then flicking it. Water rushed from its source, soaking Aleksander who seemed to be struck by it unexpectedly. He was staring at her in disbelief as she allowed the water to fully drop, her laugh echoing across the forest.

“You should see your face.” She was bent over with laughter, but she still could see Aleksander biting back a smile too, until he burst out laughing. Lena knew he must be freezing though, so she did her best to get water off of him and his clothes once they had finished laughing.

They set camp then, sitting close by the fire. There was a comfortable silence between then as it seemed they have had all of the conversations through the years. Lena still felt herself yearn to hear him speak, tell a story of his earlier life, but he didn’t have many happy ones.

Nor did she.

“Do you think there is more people like us?” She asked, curiously, watching the embers in the fire.

“There aren’t anybody else like us.” Aleksander was looking at the girl, so she met his dark eyes. “And there never will be.”

“What makes you say that?” Lena asked as Aleksander smirked, closing his eyes and leaning in. Her heart skipped a beat as the girl shut her own eyes, but the man simply landed his forehead on hers.

“You and me, we are going to change the world.”

********************************************

A/N: Hey, hey, so, I am kinda back? Idk if I will be writing Y/N fics (tho I do plan to do it) Ive had this idea of Darkling [kinda] fic for awhile, and i have it started on AO3 HOWEVER, the story there takes place in Grishaverse as we know it, aka, around Shadow and Bone trilogy era, whereas what I am sharing here is the backstory of Lena and Darkling, so I hope y’all enjoyed?? Let me know what u think, anonymous feedback can be left on my ask page. This part is short and they all might be, so i can get them out faster, that is if you actually like it?

either way, shooting my shot.

CANT WAIT FOR TV SHOW

#the darkling #aleksander morozova #darkling fanfiction #darkling fluff #darkling angst #darklingxreader #okay that might be a lie #lena #lenathebloodwitch #girhsaverse #grishaimagines #darkling imagine #whytfdidiusefanfiction #original characters #ugg #idk what to tag #like half the time they dont work anyways #so LOL #WHO CARES

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too-much-sunshine · 3 years

Text

Fangs for the Hospitality

Chapter 7

Fic Summary: After Roman leaves his family reunion mad at Remus, his car breaks down. The huge snow storm forces him into the forest hes always been told to stay away from. Who will he meet? And why are they being so nice? Most importantly, why are his teeth so sharp?

A/N: I’m so very sorry this chapter took so long to come out…Life happens my guys gals and nonbinary pals.... Ill try and be better!

Relationship: Familial DAM, Eventual Roceit, Eventual Intrulogical

Warnings (per chapter): Roman has social anxiety, he is awkward, food (Let me know if anything else!)

Catch up!: Master list, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Word Count: 2546

Read on AO3!

Patton and Virgil finished their food first; Patton grabbing both their plates from the table and bringing them into the kitchen. Little Virgil hurried off his chair to follow after him.

Roman watched the two go with a small smile. He remembers how he and his brother used to be that close.

Flinching slightly remembering the newest memory he has of his brother, he looked down and away from the boys. He ended up staring at his plate which he had only half eaten. He was starting not to feel as hungry anymore.

“Eat up dear, we have a big day in front of us." Janus chimed in.

Roman jumped slightly and looked up to the man who spoke. Janus picked up his wine glass and took a drink. Roman just now realized that Janus never had a plate of food to begin with.

"Aren't you going to eat something too?" He enquired.

"Oh no I've already eaten. Before I fixed you guys' breakfast to make sure it all went smoothly." Janus smiled, taking another sip.

"Oh...alright.." Roman looked back down frowning at his food. He felt dumb for asking, even though it wasnt an ovious answer. His stomach was turning a bit pushing the food around. He didn't want to seem wasteful or ungrateful, but he knew that his anxiety wouldn't let him finish what he had. Luckily the decision on what to do was made for him.

An arm came around Roman and picked up his plate for him. Startled, Roman looked behind himself to see Janus standing there holding Romans plate. He was so quiet Roman didn't even realise he had gotten up.

"It's okay if you don't want the rest, sweetheart. You seem to have been through a lot."

Blushing slightly Roman just nodded his head, avoiding eye contact.

"Yeah sorry...I'm just not..okay right now." He responded weakly.

"Let's clean up a bit and I'll send the kids to play. Then we can talk a bit." Janus said over his shoulder while walking Roman's plate to the kitchen.

Roman didn't respond since it didn't sound like a question. He just crossed his arms and laid his head on the table. 'This is going to be tough…' he thought as Janus came back into the room with Virgil on hip.

~~~

Remus woke up with a startle, which was quite usual. He didn't ever really sleep that well. Constant nightmares and his lanky figure made it impossible to ever get comfortable anyway.

It also didn't help that Remy just poured a glass of cold water on his head.

"What the fuck!?" Remus shouted jumping up from the couch he was on, shivering as water dripped down his spine. Wait, couch?

"Bitch. Wake up." He said monotone. "You were like. Twitching and shit. Not a good look."

"Yeah, thanks. I'm sure there was no better way to wake me up.” Remus pulled his shirt over his head and squeezed out as much water as he could. There wasn't much there, but it was a statement. Remy looked at Remus with disgust as he put his shirt back on.

“Remind me where am I again? What time is it? It's not the first time I've woken up in a random apartment but it's been a while. Much less with my cousin...wrong state for that I believe..." He rambled, pushing his wet hair out of his face. He looked around for his phone while Remy went around the back on the couch to the kitchen area.

"First of all, disgusting. Never say that to me again. And second, Its around 6am. Which is usually too god damn early for anyone. But, you're lucky I like you and Roman." He said, grabbing a mug from the dark wood cabinet. "Oh also you are in my apartment so dont fuck shit up please."

Remus lifted his head from looking under the couch. He tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy, blinking around the room. He stood up and walked around a the table to the center of the room to see pretty much everything there is.

"Your apartment? I thought you lived in like...a mansion with your parents."

The place was actually quite small. A connected half kitchen and living room. Small tv on a small stand behind a coffee table in front of the light brown couch. There seemed to be two rooms off to the side, but the doors were closed. There was one window in the kitchen, and that was it. A few movie posters were on the wall and nick knacks but otherwise the place looked...normal. it wasn't very fancy, which is the opposite of what Remus expected.

"This is my secret apartment. The one where I go when I don't want to worry about being me. Don't tell anyone, you're lucky I let you be here!" Remy snapped.

Remus continued to look around but said nothing more, feeling that he had crossed a line somewhere.

Remy let out a long sigh and stopped making his drink. With his back turned to Remus he spoke again.

"Look.. I'm sorry. It's been a long night and now it's going to be a long day. I'm tired. Your phone is under the couch by the way."

"What? I looked there,” He said as he dropped back to his knees to check again, “ and It's fine. Just. Why are we worried ag-" and like a flip was switched, all the memories of last night flooded Remus' brain and he snapped up with his phone in hand. "ROMAN! have you found him? Where could he be!?" Remus raced into the kitchen, running into Remy.

"Did you call anyone!? God he must be so mad! I'm the worst!" Remus continued pacing the room.

"Calm down! Of course I've called everywhere! But havent had any luck! It's only 6am so I couldn't call his work but I will when I can. I thought before then we could drive the way he went. See if he went home at all. The front desk at his apartment said they didn't see him come in last night but they could have missed him. It'll be a drive to get back to the countryside but we can make it. Here babe." He handed Remus a canister. "Its coffee. In the god awful way you like it."

"OoOooO thanks!" Remus said, taking a swig of the chocolaty, sweet coffee. "So. Are we gonna start with his apartment first?"

"I think it's closer to here and the most likely place he is, yeah let's start there. But listen babes. He might be real mad still so don't push him alright?"

"I'm really worried, Remy. And I'm not usually like this...he's not usually mad like that either...I know I messed but ughhhhhh! Let's just go find him before I explode all over your nice, secret walls okay?"

"Gross hun... let's just go." Remy said, grabbing the keys hanging by the front door.

With that Remus followed Remy out to the hall of the building. After locking the door they took the elevator to Remy's car, but not the nice one he took last night.

"Where did this come from?" Remus asked, taking a seat on the passenger side.

"Last night I borrowed my dad's car and drove them there. But we took a carpool home. I told them I wanted to go out longer and they didn't question." Remy responded by turning the ignition key. "This car was the first I bought with only money I made. It's a piece of shit. And I love it." He finished pulling out of the parking space and turning onto the busy road.

Remus looked around the car. It seemed normal by any standard. Kinda small, a little dirty but it looked taken care of. Remus would have never have expected Remy to want to live like this. To each their own he supposed. It must be nice, he supposed, not having to keep up a facade all the time...

"I had to do some research but I found where Roman lived. Have you ever been there? I haven't, so I might be wrong on the address." Remy broke Remus' train of thought.

Remus had to think on this question for a second, to restart his brain. Had he? He never really questioned it. He'd been to many of Romans homes before but had he been to this one? He couldn't recall..

"I don't think so but if the front desk recognized his name then he must live there."

"Yeah...that's what I thought too.." Remy said slightly nervously. He started tapping his fingers on the wheel as he drove.

"Why are you acting like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like weird.."

"I don't think I know what you mean.." Remy said ignoring Remus' tone.

"Listen dude what's up…"

"I just...this isn't the best area of town. I live in my apartment about 75% of the time to escape my parents. I know this town, along with the areas to avoid. I was hoping I was wrong and he lived somewhere else. But let's just go there and make sure he's alright. Alright?"

"Alright.." Remus ended.

The rest of the ride was quiet as Remus just looked out the window. He had never been to this part of the main town before. He knew that there was a...not so great part of town. Every town has that. But this place looked run down. Old.

Most of the buildings seemed empty. Junk was thrown on the sidewalks, forgotten about. The road and sidewalks were cracked. The people walking around looked dull. It was hard to believe that this is the same town Remus lived in, just a different part of it. A part that Roman lived in…

Remus laid back in his seat staring forward as Remy pulled into a parking lot.

"Welp. We're here..I think. I'm actually quite surprised this place has a front desk at all if I'm being honest.. let's go. I'll ask which apartment is his." Remy encouraged.

Slowly Remus got out of the car and together they walked into the old building.

There was a front desk, surprisingly. Even more surprising was that there was a person behind it.

There was a short lady behind the desk reading a very worn book. She had snow white hair and dark brown skin. He had both laugh and frown lines in her face. She looked as if she watched them build the whole town.

Remy took a deep breath and walked up to the desk and started to talk.

"Hi my name is Remy and I believe we talked on the phone late last night. We are looking for my cousin Roman. Do you know the apartment number?"

The woman didn't look up from her book, so, thinking she might not have heard him he awkwardly tried to speak up again.

"Umm...excuse me…? He said a bit louder"

Still, nothing. Remus shrugged his shoulders when Remy looked over to him.

"Don't look at me! I don't know what to do!" Remus whisper-shouted.

"Bish! You work with people! I don't! Talk to her!" He whispered back.

"Ugh! That's not how it works bitch!"

“I’m sure it helps!”

"Will you two shut up?!" Someone yelled. "This book is just getting good and you two are ruining it!"

Remy and Remus snapped their heads over the voice coming from behind the desk. The old woman was scowling at them harshly.

"Sorry ma'am. Just looking for our friend. Which apartment is Roman Kingsleys?" Remy questioned quickly.

"Oh Roman?” The womens face opened up into a long smile. “What a sweet boy," her demeanor completely changed as if she was talking about a lifelong friend. "He didn't come home last night...probably at the theater, still. Poor boy. Always working. He's in 103 on the second floor. But I doubt he's home. I've been here all day. It wouldn't be the first time he's fallen asleep on stage" She let out a laugh that sounded like a mix between a window being wiped and a cackle.

After recovering slightly from the whiplash they just got from the woman, they thanked her and turned to walk to the stairs.

"Hold on now!" she stalked after them. They both froze in place. "Why do the likes of you want to go to his house? I can't just let anyone in!" She stopped right next to Remus. She barely came up to his shoulder, yet she was still terrifying.

"I'm his brother! And this is his cousin! We are just here to say hi…" Remus uttered quickly. He didn't know why this woman made him so anxious. His family was 100 times scarier yet this woman shook him up. Something in the back of Remus' brain told him it was about threat vs action but he ignored that.

"You better not be lying! That boy is the nicest person to walk in this hellhole." She sneered.

"No ma'am! Just here to see him!" Remy countered. "I-if you don't mind me asking though, how long has he lived around here?"

"Some cousin and brother you are if you don't know where he lives!" She laughed. Remy and Remus shuffled nervously in place. "He's lived here for about…. Ohh going on 3 years now? I think. He always tried to brighten this place up with flowers whenever he could. Recently though he's been staying inside more. Poor child. I miss his humor. Tell him to come down here if he's up there! Give him a piece of my mind!" She finished as she stomped back to her desk, picking up her book and sitting in place, as if she never moved.

Remy and Remus smartly decided not to comment further. They continued their walk to the stairs. Each step was a bit wobbly but since there was no elevator, they had no choice. Though, judging by the look of things, they wouldn't have trusted the elevator anyway.

The walls had long straggling cracks going in each direction. At one point it looked like the walls might have been painted a baby blue or a similar shade. But years of no upkeep has left it looking grey at best. Cobwebs were strung up as if it was halloween decorations. The air smelled old and musty. The faint sound of dripping water could be heard from seemingly anywhere in the building. Yet it was eerily quiet as the boys approached Roman's apartment.

His door didn't stand out among the rest, which made Remus sad for some reason. He remembered when he would insist in the house that his door be painted a deep red color. Not it was just...bland.

They both arrived at the door and stopped. They looked at each not quite knowing who should do what. Finally Remus had had enough and spoke up.

"What the fuck are we doing!? This is dumb. This trepidation is dumb! This isn't some horror fantasy bullshit! Let's go!" He shouted reaching for Roman's door handle. Slightly surprising both Remus and Remy, it opened.

Shaking the surprise off Remus busts through the door.

"ROMAN! GET YO BITCH ASS UP!"

Taglist (ask to tag!):

@primaveradoodles @bluerosesbleedred

#sanders sides #familial anxceit #familial moceit #ts roman #ts remus #ts remy #roman has ~Anxiety~#ts janus #ts virgil #ts patton

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varietysunsets · 3 years

Text

My Right Hand Man

Pairing: Diavolo/Kira Yoshikage Rating: T Tags: Domestic AU (with stands!), canon-typical violence, vague descriptions of murder, fluff, enemies to lovers? 👀 Word count: 7700

Description: Kira gets blackmailed into spending Christmas with his new neighbours.

A/N: happy holidays @doctorrosalia, here’s your @jjba-secret-santa ! sorry that this is so long, i havent written since last year’s secret santa so i was a little backed up lol. try to stay safe and relax in these bizarre times 🍹

Read on AO3!

August 28th, 1999

It all began when Kira spotted the moving truck next door.

It was fancy—a name brand with about three or four men in matching uniforms hauling furniture inside the house. Nice-looking furniture, at that. Mostly black leather or white suede, practically new. Modernist style.

Kira couldn’t imagine why someone would move into their Morioh subdivision if they could afford furniture like that. Either they were broke and trying to overcompensate for the fact, or they recently came into money but still weren’t sure how to handle it. Personally, Kira hoped it was the former; if this new neighbour had exorbitant amounts of money, they would probably try to remodel the house. Kira dreaded to think about listening to a construction crew for weeks at a time.

Kira watched the moving crew for a good fifteen minutes while he sipped his coffee. The crew hauled in a large, plastic-wrapped mattress, followed shortly by another, much smaller one, too.

Kira nodded his head. His new neighbour had a child. That wasn’t surprising. A lot of people in the neighbourhood had families. This was a relatively safe place, after all.

The thought made Kira smile a bit. With another sip of coffee, he checked his watch. Almost time to leave.

The movers continued to do their work, steadily unloading the huge truck. As Kira went and rinsed out his mug, he realized that he hadn’t yet seen his new neighbours. And then, it came to him that he would need to learn the schedule of these new neighbours, too. That left a sour note in Kira’s mouth—before, an old man lived there with his extremely young girlfriend. It was easy to bypass them and do what he needed, because the man was senile and the girlfriend was never home, probably partying or seeing other men.

Kira drew a steady breath, calmed himself. He turned to the table, where his girlfriend sat. Stiff, perfect, angelic, almost. All negative feelings washed away from him.

Lovingly, he scooped her up and held her to his face. He kissed the back of the corpse hand, savoring the feel of her soft, cold skin against his lips. She was fresh and delightful; really, he didn’t need to worry about the new neighbours for now, his current girlfriend would last for a good week or so. Maybe longer.

With another quick kiss, Kira wrapped his girlfriend back up and returned her to the fridge. He straightened his tie, collected his briefcase, and went for the door.

He took his time locking the door outside, if only hoping that he might catch a glimpse of his new neighbour. Unfortunately, the curtains were drawn tight and there was no sign of them outside, so Kira began his commute to work curious and unsatisfied.

—30—

September 5th

A week passed. Still, Kira hadn’t seen any sign of life from his new neighbours’ house. Kira tried to break it down rationally, to find clues to tell him anything about these new people; he assumed there was only one parent, given the fact that the furniture brought in was near-immaculate, but missing any feminine touches. Possibly a single father. The problem with that was Kira hadn’t seen a parent or even a babysitter come or go yet. Given the time of year, the child would be out of school, so someone needed to be watching it.

There was so much mystery surrounding these people that it made Kira nervous. He tried to mind himself and rationalize his anxiety, but every time he passed a window, he found himself staring out at the neighbours, desperately grasping for anything he could find.

The only thing different he could see since the neighbours moved in were the slightly open purple butterfly curtains in one of the second-floor windows. Every other set of blinds or curtains were drawn, blocking the inside off from the rest of the world. It was frustrating, so frustrating.

After waking up, Kira did as he always did; he dressed, went to the kitchen to start his coffee, and pulled his girlfriend from the fridge. A rank smell followed her; black rot began to take the edges of her wrist. Kira’s heart sank with despair and disgust.

He couldn’t focus on this right now, otherwise he would get frazzled. Kira shut the fridge door and walked through the house, all the way to the back porch.

The early-morning air was fresh and warm outside. Calm emotions ebbed through him as he breathed steadily.

Then, from the corner of his eye, Kira caught movement in the neighbours’ backyard.

Kira tensed, though he knew he wasn’t in any danger. Killer Queen materialized behind him, set and ready as it peered over Kira’s shoulder. In the neighbours’ backyard was a young child walking around, easily only a kindergarten student or younger, with bright pink hair wearing a sundress.

Kira relaxed, even laughed inwardly at himself. He waved Killer Queen away, though the Stand stayed where it was. Curious, Queen drifted to the porch railing and leaned over, as if closely observing the child. At this point, Kira could have gone back into the house, but there was a strange nagging feeling inside him that made him stay put.

A quick survey of the neighbours’ backyard told Kira that this little girl was completely alone and unsupervised; no one was on the back porch, and as always, the blinds were drawn. Kira knew that he was the most dangerous thing in Morioh, yet he felt uncomfortable leaving the girl alone. Odd, because she wasn’t his responsibility in the slightest. Perhaps only to keep his illusion of being a good person, Kira quietly observed the girl a little more.

She explored around the yard, plucking grass and dandelions. Her curly hair was cropped short around her head, bright pink. Kira had never seen anything like it. Queen beside him stared intently, unblinking, like a cat watching prey.

The girl knelt, scooped another handful of flowers, then happened to turn around. Kira jolted slightly as they made eye contact. Queen jumped to hide behind Kira; the cold feeling of its hands grasped Kira’s shoulders. Without any idea of what to do, Kira waved at her gently.

The girl didn’t smile. Her chubby cheeks perched in an almost-frown, but her yellow eyes were bright. She raised one grassy hand and waved back.

Kira thought she was cute for a child. He never caught onto the baby craze or any particularly paternal instincts, but perhaps now he could understand why women swooned over them. He waved again, smiling softly, then lowered his hand. The little girl put her hand down, too. She kept staring, then decisively started walking towards Kira.

There was no real divide between their yards, only a small grassy slope leading to a shallow valley. Kira kept his yard immaculate and mowed, the neighbours’ grass was almost to the girl’s knees.

The girl made it within three feet of the divide when a man came around the corner of the house. Killer Queen dematerialized, and Kira stood up straight again.

The man was tall and lanky, but despite that, his arms were obviously defined under the sleeves of a black rock band t-shirt. He had a wild mat of long pink hair, and a sharp face with dark circles under hard set, black eyes.

At first glance, Kira could tell the man was his age, but somehow, he seemed much younger.

“Do you have a problem?” The man asked sharply, with an obvious Italian accent. He walked past the little girl and stood partially in front of her.

Kira was taken aback, but he kept his cool. He smiled slightly and bowed his head a little.

“No problems,” He assured the man. His mouth felt dry. “I was just standing here.”

“You were watching my daughter, like a pervert.” The man accused.

Kira almost reeled. His stomach curled at the accusation. “I wasn’t watching her... That way. She looked alone; I was just making sure that she didn’t wander off. No ill-intentions, I assure you.”

Kira sweat bullets under the hard, distrustful stare of his neighbour. It felt like forever before he finally spoke.

“You mind your business next time.” There was no threat attached to the end of the man’s statement, but Kira felt it in his tone.

Shivers rushed up Kira’s spine. Nothing normally scared him, certainly not people, but this man made him feel things. A little bit of fear, maybe excitement at his audacity. It wasn’t the type of attitude people usually took in Morioh, especially not with mild-natured Kira Yoshikage.

“Welcome to the neighbourhood.” Kira offered, trying to recollect his composure. “I apologize that this is our first meeting.”

The man narrowed his eyes. He glared Kira up and down.

Kira forced a smile, even as he held his breath.

Without a word in reply, the man grabbed his daughter by the shoulder and ushered her back towards the house. “Come on, Trish,” he mumbled, so quiet Kira almost didn’t hear.

Trish went willingly, but not without casting one last glance at Kira. Expressionless, she waved.

Kira considered waving back, out of politeness, at least. But soon Trish and her father disappeared into the home again.

Killer Queen’s presence radiated behind Kira’s shoulder. Glancing back, Kira saw that Queen had its hand up, waving back at Trish. Kira rolled his eyes.

“Stop that. She can’t see you.”

Kira returned to his own house. Queen lingered a second longer, staring out unblinking at the lawn, before dissipating and following Kira.

—30—

October 12th

Summer fully ended, and with it came mild Autumn days. As always, Kira went to work, did his errands and chores, and over time he stopped thinking about his odd neighbours as much. He caught glimpses of them here and there, but hardly enough to focus on. Sometimes in the morning Kira saw Trish leave the house for school and join the other neighbourhood children for the commute. Other times, just after dusk, Kira caught glimpses of his strange neighbour creeping to the mailbox.

Through vague conversations with the mailman, Kira pieced together that his neighbour went by the nickname Diavolo. That was about the extent of what Kira really cared to find out; he knew this Diavolo’s schedule and that was all he needed.

So, life went on as usual for Kira.

He met a waitress at a restaurant with exceptionally beautiful hands. He stalked her home to a bustling apartment and strangled her before she had the chance to scream. Killer Queen disposed of the evidence, and the TV playing perfectly hid the sounds of carnage. The exhilaration from killing carried Kira all the way home as though he were walking on air. Kira kept his new prize nestled in his suit pocket; the lingering warmth from the corpse hand was delicious, and her skin was so soft when Kira stroked her.

Kira’s new girlfriend was exactly what he needed in his home; she fit in perfectly, like the missing piece to a puzzle. For the first time in what felt like forever, Kira was completely at peace.

Though every day of the following week was identical, Kira savoured it. Perfect peace in his quiet life, unnoticed and left alone—he couldn’t ask for anything more.

Before work on a Thursday morning, Kira checked his mailbox. He flipped through, sorting the junk from the important letters, almost mindlessly, until he got to an unmarked manilla folder at the bottom of the stack. Curious, Kira pursed his lips. He set the rest of his mail aside and opened the folder.

His heart stopped.

Inside were photographs. Photos of himself, taken through a window, kissing his girlfriend in his kitchen. Photos of him lovingly painting his girlfriend’s nails. Even photos of his girlfriend, from all angles, sitting out on the table and in the fridge, taken from inside his home.

Violent nausea washed over Kira. His stomach twisted into a knot, his chest clenched with anger. He wanted to collapse and scream and throw up all at the same time. Not only was he being watched, but whoever took these photos was inside his home. They touched his things and invaded his space, handled his girlfriend.

As Kira slid the photos back into the folder, he noted a letter tucked inside. Despite the waves of sickness washing through him, he managed enough coordination to read it.

And then he read it over again. And again. And Again.

The letter detailed extremely specific instructions for Kira. A time and place to be, down to the minute, and a gracious description of a man Kira was to kill, “however he usually does”. Then there were threats at the end—promises that Kira’s life would be upturned with the photographs and more if the task wasn’t completed, or if he tried anything suspicious. And that there would be more tasks to come later.

Kira couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. Almost in a daze, he brought his mail into the house.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Kira gnawed his nails until blood seeped down his fingers and dripped onto the table. Easily, Kira could see himself falling into a slippery slope, constantly running around killing for this blackmailer until he either got caught or got himself killed. Unless he figured out who the blackmailer was and struck first.

When Kira snapped back to consciousness, his hand was covered in blood. He licked his lips, and then went to wash up.

He called out to work that day, his first sick call in months. Kira faked a cough and apologized profusely. His boss wished him well and told him to get some rest and feel better soon.

Kira had no intention of doing either. He spent the day fretting, thinking and mulling over the letter—one part on how to kill and another on how to find his blackmailer.

—30—

October 20th

All things considered, the kill was easy; the target was passed out drunk when Kira arrived. Kira rigged the home with bombs as instructed, and quickly he discovered why his blackmailer wanted this man killed.

The target’s home was littered with photographs—ironically, Kira assumed they were to be used for blackmail, too. He took a moment to examine a few and found that both his and his neighbour’s homes were pictured. Another showed his neighbour leaving the house, in one of his mad dashes for the mailbox.

Though he had many questions unanswered, some of the mystery clicked. Kira finished his task and fled the scene. He was long gone by the time firefighters arrived to put out the blaze that was the target’s home.

—30—

October 22nd

Another letter arrived mysteriously in Kira’s mailbox. Just as Kira feared, the slippery slope had begun.

Once again, the letter listed everything down to the minute detail; Kira was to leave his home at 1:35pm that day and arrive at a nearby park by 1:48. Apparently, the sender had measured the exact time window it would take to get there. As with the last letter, this one was incredibly detailed and well-written, until the very end, that is. The final line read,

Find a young man named Doppio.

Talk soon.

Kira was given no description, no call to action, nothing. What was he to do when he found this Doppio? How was he even supposed to find him? What if he couldn’t?

Worry wrought Kira’s body. He chewed his nails the entire walk to the park, despite trying his best to remain calm. The signs of a beautiful fall day were around him; golden leaves tumbled from the trees and danced in the gentle breeze. All he could think about was whether his not-so-secret blackmailer would expose him completely.

Kira got rushed by violent thoughts of what he might do to this Doppio person when he found him. He wanted nothing more than to use Killer Queen and erase this fool completely, but he couldn’t. There was too much he didn’t know yet. And there were people walking around everywhere in this park.

Most notably, a younger guy with purple hair and a matching sweater struggled to keep a little girl, wearing a backpack and child-leash, in check. He laughed nervously to himself and chided the child gently.

At first, Kira paid them no mind, until he looked closer; the child looked strangely familiar. He paused to observe and realized that the little girl on the leash was his next-door neighbour.

Trish noticed Kira staring first. She glanced over her shoulder and stopped tugging on her leash; instead, she waved her hand at Kira, expressionless and silent. The man with her glanced back as well.

He looked Kira over, then his eyes lit up.

“Oh! Oh!” He said. “You’re mister Yoshikage? Um— Kiri— No, Kira, right?”

Kira bristled slightly. He dug his nails into his palm, in an attempt to soothe the desire to chew them. “Kira Yoshikage, yes.”

The boy sighed deeply in relief. He smiled a weary grin and dropped his shoulders. “Oh, thank god. I’m Doppio. The boss told me to come find you. He said— ha! He said I’d find some old blond guy in a suit walking around the park like a creep. But you’re not— you’re a lot younger than I was expecting.” Doppio laughed awkwardly.

Kira stared at him. His expression slipped into something intense and unimpressed.

Doppio’s laughter petered off. He cleared his throat. Trish tugged viciously on her leash, in a desperate attempt to chase a stray cat strolling by.

“Um... Should we... Walk and talk?” Doppio offered. His body jerked as Trish pulled. “The boss gave me some stuff to talk about with you.”

Kira couldn’t explain the feeling inside his chest. It was a seething anger; not only was he being blackmailed, he had to deal with someone like... This. It was almost insulting, in a very specific way.

Outwardly, Kira tried to seem calm. He bowed his head briefly to Doppio.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

For the most part, Trish led the way. She jerked Doppio every so often, in some violent pursuit of this or that, and without fail every time Doppio laughed awkwardly and gave Kira a ‘what can you do?’ sort of glance.

There were a few people in the park, strolling around and enjoying the day. Normally, Kira blended in well with the crowd, but he felt now that walking beside Doppio and the unruly child made them the centre of attention. Kira’s palms sweated; Doppio remained oblivious that people may be staring at them.

“So... You got the boss’ letters pretty easy, huh?” Doppio said, as though he were making small talk. Trish jerked his arm again, as she rushed towards a small playground in the middle of the park.

Everything about this felt surreal to Kira, like he was living in a fever-dream, or inside a carnival mirror. Maybe this was an elaborate prank, or Kira’s tailored personal hell.

“I did.”

Doppio waited a second for Kira to say more, but when it became obvious that he had finished his statement, Doppio awkwardly filled the silence.

“Well, the boss told me he respects how quickly you got the job done. And effectively! He’s really impressed by you, mister Kira. He thinks you have a lot of potential.”

“That’s... Good.” Kira approached the conversation carefully, lest he accidentally offer unknown information.

Together, they approached the edge of the playground. Doppio knelt and unclasped the leash from Trish’s bookbag.

“Stay where I can see you,” Doppio said to her, but the moment she was free, Trish took off in a sprint towards the jungle gyms.

“If I can ask... Why didn’t your ‘boss’ come out here to meet me?” Kira inquired.

Doppio rolled the leash up in his hand and stood straight. “Oh, uh— he doesn’t really like being out in public, he’s kind of a hermit. But! This is confidential, I promise you can trust in me. I know everything, I won’t rat you out.”

Doppio led them over to some benches on the outskirts of the playground. No one else was around. Despite his weariness, Kira sat beside Doppio.

“I know I don’t seem very trustworthy, and you probably think I’m kind of a dork,” Doppio continued. Kira side-glanced at him. “But I’m Diavolo’s right-hand man. The only reason he sent me out here is because he doesn’t want any more paper trails, get it? This whole ordeal is pretty hush-hush.”

“Diavolo.” Kira repeated softly to himself. That confirmed it. He crossed his legs and leaned his elbow on his knee. “What does he want from me?”

Doppio fiddled with the leash in his hand. He watched Trish run around closely, in case she made a break for it.

“More jobs. The boss has a lot of enemies, you know? But he’s lying low right now, he can’t risk dealing with it himself.”

“Then why would he pick me, a complete stranger?”

Doppio laughed a little. “It’s not like you’ve never met. You live right next door, after all. It’s easier to keep track of you and everything.”

Silence settled between them. For a long second, Doppio and Kira stared at each other. In the background, gravel crunched as Trish fell off the monkey bars, only to quickly jump up and try again.

As the silence and its implications seeped in, Doppio’s expression dropped. Horror etched across his face.

“Oh, shit. I wasn’t supposed to say that. I— I...”

“I already figured that out,” Kira offered. His methods were always perfect, he had no enemies, no reason for anyone to suspect him; it only made sense that his new neighbour, Diavolo, the only new thing in his otherwise perfect life, was the cause of it all.

Doppio seemed slightly relieved, but still there were some hints of terror in his expression. He fiddled more with his hands and glanced around nervously. Then, he started to mutter, “Ring, ring, ring...”

Kira blinked. Doppio got up and paced, all while muttering to himself.

That was one way to leave a conversation cold, Kira thought.

“Ring, ring... Where is it...?”

Almost triumphantly, Doppio picked up a crushed, empty soda can. He put it to his ear and said, “Hello? Doppio speaking.”

Despair settled in Kira’s stomach. He was supposed to trust this man? This entire interaction already felt like a slap in the face, but this was too much. Kira hoped even more now that this was an elaborate prank, or maybe even just a long dream that he would soon wake up from.

Doppio’s eyes lit up. “Boss! Oh— yeah, yeah, he’s here. One sec.”

Doppio turned to Kira and held the can out.

“He wants to talk to you,” Doppio said.

At this point, Kira didn’t know what to think. He felt a thousand eyes staring at him, even though there were only a few people walking around, ignoring them.

Despite the absurdity of this, Kira took the can. Under Doppio’s expectant gaze, he put the can to his ear and said, “...Yes?”

“Yoshikage.”

Kira jolted. Directly in his ear was the voice of his neighbour—Diavolo. Deep and calm, yet heavy and serious.

Kira jerked his eyes to Doppio; the man stood there smiling, waiting patiently. Only then did Kira notice that one of Doppio’s eyes wasn’t quite right—the pupil was darker, twitching, in an uncanny familiar way.

“Listen to me, Yoshikage.” Diavolo whispered to him. Kira watched Doppio’s face the entire time; his lips moved with the speech. “You’re going to do exactly as Doppio says. If you lay a hand on my Doppio or my daughter, I will ruin your life in such a specific way that you will wish you were dead.”

Panic and fear gripped Kira’s lungs. He couldn’t breathe.

“Doppio has more power than you realize, and he will not hesitate to use it against you. And don’t forget, I have your life in the palm of my hand. Check your mailbox when you get home.”

Kira lowered the can from his ear and stared, shocked, at Doppio.

Doppio smiled back innocently. Both his eyes matched again, the irises a bright golden colour.

Kira couldn’t find the words to speak even if he wanted to. Doppio’s smile was almost haunting.

“Let’s talk about your next task then, mister Kira.”

—30—

November 1st

A woman this time, and a pretty one, at that. She had beautiful skin and excellent, gorgeous hands. Manicured. Adorned in expensive rings and a bracelet. Kira imagined she was a pianist, or even a harpist. Something about the delicate nature of her hands led Kira to believe she played an equally regal instrument.

Even though he was there on business, Kira saw no problem with keeping her hands. It would be a waste otherwise, he thought. After some quiet contemplation, and comparing them both, Kira settled on taking the left hand; her right index finger had a broken nail, while the left was completely intact.

Kira finished the job with a quiet blast from Killer Queen. He went home satisfied, with his new girlfriend safely tucked into his blazer.

As soon as Kira stepped into his home, the phone rang.

Confused, Kira glanced at the time; it was late, far later than when he usually got calls of any kind. Wearily, Kira moved to the phone on the wall and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Kira Yoshikage.” Diavolo greeted. “Did you have fun tonight?”

Kira felt shivers go down his spine. He considered hanging up, but something kept him standing there, waiting for Diavolo to say more.

And he did.

“I assume you did. Did you bring home a souvenir, by chance?”

Kira’s stomach wretched a bit. “What do you want? Can’t I have an evening in peace?”

Diavolo laughed. “Oh, sure. I don’t have another task for you yet, I just wanted to thank you for your work. Based on your reaction, I assume you got my gift.”

“...What do you mean?”

“I picked her out special for you, couldn’t you tell?” Diavolo stated, as though it were obvious. He laughed again, a haunting sound. “You’re a despicable man, Yoshikage, pretty perverted, but your taste is obvious.”

Suddenly, the corpse hand in Kira’s pocket felt impossibly heavy.

“No need to thank me,” Diavolo continued. “I’m sure you’re beyond grateful. I have nothing else for you right now, but we’ll be in touch. Ciao.”

Diavolo hung up, leaving Kira standing there, stunned into silence. Up until now, he assumed that everything about Diavolo was despicable. Weird and despicable. This, however, felt bittersweet; possibly the strangest gift anyone had ever gotten Kira, but also... The most thoughtful.

Kira didn’t want to dwell on it for too long. He did his best to push it out of his head, to Zen out while he went about his nightly routine.

Still, his mind wandered back to Diavolo. The strange gift. His deep voice.

It all haunted Kira, but not necessarily in a bad way.

—30—

December 10th 1:15pm

Over the course of the next month, Diavolo’s tasks shifted from murderous in nature to more... Domestic.

It was frustrating and borderline insulting at first that Kira was expected to go around collecting dry-cleaning and groceries—Kira was much more than someone’s errand-boy—but at the same time, Diavolo found intriguing ways to reward Kira for his service. Money and dropped hints to help him find new targets, always beautiful and model-worthy, in Kira’s opinion.

Though originally he despised Diavolo, now Kira couldn’t help but see some merit in the strange man, at least as far as his taste went and little else.

That being said, Kira’s next task was... Unexpected.

Kira got the call while he was at work, which jarred him, but he supposed that he shouldn’t expect any less from Diavolo at this point.

“Hello, Yoshi.” Diavolo’s voice pierced through Kira, giving him a gut-reaction shiver.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Why not? Does it make your skin crawl? You should consider it a term of endearment. I think more people should call you it.”

Kira sighed. “These calls are recorded, you know.”

Diavolo sounded amused. “I figured. I need a favour of you.”

Kira glanced casually over his shoulder. Though his expression remained calm, his palms started to sweat.

“A favour?” Kira ventured carefully.

Diavolo hummed in his ear. “I need you to pick Trish up from school today. And then take her to go get Christmas decorations for an hour or so.”

Kira furrowed his brows. As Diavolo spoke, Kira poked his pointer finger to his lips and chewed the nail.

“This is an odd favour from you,” Kira muttered, choosing his words carefully.

“I know. But you’re the only person I trust to do this.”

Kira wanted to laugh. Diavolo trusted him? Given the chance, Kira would strangle him and chop him to bits, then use Killer Queen to erase all evidence that he existed. He wouldn’t hesitate.

Yet at the same time, deeper down, Kira felt hesitation. He tried to play it off as self-sustaining worry, but he knew better.

Eventually, Kira replied, “I get off work at four.”

“Good. I’ll see you later tonight, then.” Then, Diavolo teased, “If anything happens to Trish, I’ll skin you.”

Kira chuckled at that, even though he knew that Diavolo was completely serious.

—30—

December 10th 4:25pm

Trish had no emotion and no expression when Kira came to pick her up. She left the other children playing on the playground without looking back and willingly approached Kira’s car. She was bundled up warmly in a jacket with matching splash pants and a knit hat.

“Hi Yoshi.”

Kira pursed his lips. “You ought to call me ‘mister Kira’ instead.”

Trish frowned and took an attitude to her tone. “Papa told me to call you Yoshi.”

“It’s more respectful for you to call me Kira.”

Trish paused a long moment. She pulled the knit hat off her head, revealing a tangle of short, frizzy pink hair.

“I’m gonna call you Yoshi,” she said decisively.

Kira couldn’t believe the audacity of this brat.

“At least call me ‘Yoshikage’.”

Trish wrinkled her nose. “Yoshi.”

Kira gritted his teeth. His mind was plagued by violent thoughts, and his hands twitched at his sides. Inside his chest, he felt Killer Queen itching to be released.

“Didn’t your father teach you to respect your elders?” Kira asked calmly instead.

Trish glanced up at Kira. Her expression soured further, and she stuck her tongue out.

“He told me I’m not s’pposed to go anywhere with strangers. Where’s uncle Doppio?”

“I’m not sure,” Kira said, holding in his annoyance. He opened the car door and ushered Trish inside. “We’ll have to ask your father later.”

Trish crossed her arms and pouted. After getting buckled in and settled, she stared angrily out the back window as they drove.

“...Is your ghost still following you?” Trish eventually asked.

Kira glanced back at her through the rear-view mirror. “I’m sorry? My ghost?”

“Yeah. The pink one.”

“I don’t have a ghost following me,” Kira lied.

“It waved at me,” Trish continued to say. She stared hard at the back of Kira’s head, as though it would make the ‘ghost’ in question appear. “It was big and pink and had kitty ears.”

Kira’s hands were clammy. He felt Killer Queen swell inside his chest, almost desperate to materialize after being talked about. Kira pushed it down.

“You have a wild imagination. There are strange things in this world, but I doubt ghosts are one of them.”

Trish didn’t seem satisfied with that answer fully, but seemingly she took it. To stave off further questioning, Kira turned the radio on. It worked well enough, until they reached their outlet mall destination.

Normally, Kira avoided the mall whenever possible, especially around the holiday season. It was too busy for his liking and the appeal of Christmas never really resonated with him personally; if anything, it felt like a waste of time. However, his anonymity laid on the line, so Kira put forth a forced smile.

“Your father wants you to pick out some Christmas decorations.” Kira told Trish. “Do you have any ideas of what you’d like?”

Trish shook her head. She intentionally looked away from Kira as they walked through the bustling mall.

Kira seethed quietly. He led Trish towards a specialty knick-knack store and shooed her in. “Well, think about it. Let’s look around.”

There was no shortage of Christmas decorations in the store. Everything was covered in red or green tinsel, doused with fake foam snow. Sparkly ornaments and colourful decorations flashed and sang everywhere. Kira couldn’t help being a little overwhelmed by the amount of pure, unadulterated Christmas spirit he was surrounded by.

Finally, Trish’s expression shifted slightly. Though she didn’t smile fully, she did seem mildly impressed by everything. She wandered further into the store, following singing snowmen and dancing Santa’s.

Kira tried to follow, but easily became distracted. For the most part, he wondered about how anyone could find these annoying traditions endearing. Personally, Kira preferred modest, if any, Christmas decorations and quiet nights by himself throughout the holidays.

While Kira wasn’t paying attention, Killer Queen materialized. It lingered behind Trish, glancing around and inspecting her as she admired a wall of Christmas tree ornaments. Curiously, it reached its hand out to swat her shoulder.

Kira caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Before he could stop Queen, a separate entity appeared. All Kira saw was a flash of hot pink before it reeled back and punched Queen full force in the mouth.

At the exact same time, Kira also felt the punch being delivered on himself. The force made him reel, lose his balance, crash to the ground. Thankfully, no one else was in the aisle to stare and gape. Pain ebbed through Kira’s face, anger and confusion welled up inside his chest.

Kira stared at Trish in utter disbelief, clutching his jaw.

For the first time since Kira had met her, Trish emoted. She decisively picked a sparkly, pink disco-ball ornament off the shelf and held it close to her chest. She looked Kira over, and then said with a smile, “I have a ghost, too.”

—30—

December 10th 6:01pm

Kira wanted to drop Trish off on the doorstep and vacate. However, before he could he even ring the doorbell, Doppio threw the door open. He seemed flustered, his face slick with sweat and his smile wild and nervous. He had his sleeves rolled up his elbow. Kira noted a small, dark stain on the bottom hem of his sweater.

“Oh! Mister Kira, perfect timing. I was just cleaning up. Come inside, won’t you?” As Doppio spoke, Trish took the chance to slip inside. She brushed by Doppio, and he acknowledged her by ruffling her hair and saying, “Welcome home, sweetheart.”

Kira awkwardly held a paper bag of assorted ornaments and decorations by his side. His jaw still throbbed from the assault earlier.

“I don’t want to impose,” Kira said, though deep inside he wanted nothing more than to see the inside of Diavolo’s home; even just a glimpse would suffice.

Doppio opened the door further. He ushered Kira inside. “Not at all! Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable.”

Kira did come inside, and though normally he felt uncomfortable in barrages of social settings, he felt quite relaxed now. Maybe it was the relief of moving from a bustling mall to somewhere much, much quieter. Maybe it was that in combination with the excitement of finally seeing Diavolo’s home.

Doppio motioned Kira in and closed the door behind him. He smiled, and led the way towards the living room. The walls were crisp white and mostly clean; Kira noted a few criminal spots where crayon was smudged low on the walls.

“Did you want a coffee or a tea or anything?” Doppio asked. Obviously, he was just as excited about having guests as Kira was to be there.

“Tea would be nice. Whatever you have.”

Doppio grinned and nodded. “Okay! Sure, one sec. The boss’ll be right down, too.”

“No rush.”

Kira glanced around the living room, openly taking in everything that he could see. There was an odd dissociation between the niceness of the furniture and the children’s toys laying around on the floor. A collection of Barbie dolls lay discarded in the middle of the floor, along with an open case of pink glittery makeup, dangerously close to spilling on a lovely white carpet. In the very-most corner of the living room was a tall, fake Christmas tree; unsurpising, Kira doubted Diavolo would manage to find a real Christmas tree in Morioh. Upon closer inspection, Kira noted that there were drops of blood on one of the branches. And below, the floor was sparkling clean, but still wet; obviously recently cleaned.

Kira couldn’t help wondering what happened here. Potentially something to do with the fact Diavolo needed someone to pick up and distract Trish.

“Good to see you again.”

Kira twisted around. Diavolo stood in the doorway of the living room, and it occurred to Kira then that he hadn’t actually seen Diavolo since their first meeting. Kira’s heart skipped a nervous little beat, which he chose to ignore.

Diavolo looked much more well put-together than he did before. His hair was combed and fell neatly across his shoulders, his lipstick looked rushed but still befitting. Kira noted that along with a mesh shirt, he wore the same pants as Doppio.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Diavolo continued. He offered out a mug of tea to Kira. “Sit down. Make yourself comfortable while you’re here.”

Kira took the mug cautiously. Kira couldn’t help noticing that Diavolo painted his nails black; sloppily, at that. Kira tried not to let it linger in his mind, but as he sat down on a white suede chair, he couldn’t help thinking that, given the chance, he could have painted Diavolo’s nails much nicer. That thought, Kira realized, would probably haunt him for a while.

Diavolo took the paper bag of ornaments and brought it to the tree. He rooted through it, nodding his head.

“Excellent. I appreciate your help, Yoshikage.

“You know, you’re the only person who calls me by my first name.” Kira stated over the lip of his tea. “Everyone else has enough respect to call me Kira. I don’t even know how you found my full name.”

Diavolo grinned. He procured a box of white Christmas bulbs from the bag and turned it over in his hands.

“I respect you,” Diavolo said. “People I don’t respect don’t get referred to by name at all. And it wasn’t hard; I have my ways.”

“The same way you found my work phone number?”

“Exactly. You’re quick, Yoshi. That’s why I like you.”

Diavolo opened the box of bulbs. Kira’s eyes followed his hands; they were slender, with long fingers and smooth skin. Hands that hadn’t seen a day of hard labour in a long time, Kira figured. Aesthetically, they were perfect.

Kira forced himself not to stare. Live hands seldom intrigued him, but something about Diavolo’s seemed different. Perhaps it helped that he was an attractive man, even if his personality could be annoying and almost abrasive.

“Doppio said you liked me because I’m easy to control and watch over.” Kira said, to distract himself. He looked around the room, away from Diavolo’s working hands.

“Give yourself more credit. That’s only part of the reason.” Diavolo said. He placed another bulb on the tree. “You’re self-motivating, and handsome, too. I like surrounding myself with beautiful people.”

Kira sputtered on his tea. That wasn’t the response he was expecting. It left a mixed-feeling in Kira’s chest, wherein he felt pleased by the acknowledgement but also startled.

Diavolo looked back over his shoulder. “And look, you’re good with children, too. I took a chance on you with that, but I didn’t have many options today.” He smiled. “Work related business, you see.”

“I see,” Kira muttered, still processing this all. Deep down, Kira felt... Giddy. Excited, almost. He shouldn’t have, but he did. He couldn’t help it.

Little footsteps came running down the hall. Trish appeared in the living room door, having ditched her school uniform and winter clothes in favour of a princess play-dress.

“I wanna decorate the tree.” She said, intensely.

As if nothing had happened up until then, Diavolo nodded. “Go ahead. It’s all yours, sweetheart.”

Kira then sat there, quietly processing the entire interaction, while Diavolo helped Trish decorate the tree with sparkling, mis-matched ornaments.

—30—

December 24th

The phone rang. Thinking nothing of it, Kira pulled himself up from his seat and went to answer. He kept his eyes on his TV program the entire time.

“Hello, Kira residence.”

“Ah, so you are alone tonight.”

Kira pursed his lips. “Can I help you, Diavolo?”

“I want you to come over.”

“Right now? I’m in the middle of something.”

“You’re watching TV by yourself. Christmas is a time to spend with friends and family.”

Kira quirked a small smile. “Are we friends and family? Also, it’s considered rude here to spy on your neighbours.”

“Close your curtains next time. Are you coming?”

The TV shifted into a commercial. Kira turned towards the window instead; through a crack in Diavolo’s curtains, Kira spotted a sliver of pink hair peeking back at him.

“Why not come over here and ask me in person?” Kira inquired. He picked up the remote and flicked his TV off. “Or leave a letter under my door.”

“This does just as well, doesn’t it?” Diavolo shot back. His smirk could be heard through his tone. “I’ll see you shortly?”

Kira hummed. “I suppose.”

“Good.”

Life was certainly strange for Kira right now. He hung up the phone and slipped his shoes on instead. Over his shoulder, he casted a glance towards his girlfriend, sitting still on the table in front of the TV. Kira blew her a little kiss; he didn’t want her to become jealous, after all.

Snow blanketed the ground outside; it crunched under Kira’s shoes as he crossed the lawn to his neighbour’s home.

With Kira’s help earlier that week, Doppio had outfitted the porch and doorway with sparkling Christmas lights. They glittered and glowed as Kira knocked on the door.

Diavolo appeared almost instantly. He was dressed nicely in a dark button-up and matching pants.

“You could have just come in,” Diavolo said, stepping aside.

“It feels more professional to knock, I think.” Kira replied.

Diavolo smiled. “This is a professional visit?”

Kira quickly looked Diavolo up and down. “You’re dressed like it is.”

“I enjoy looking nice. And you look...” Diavolo stepped close, more into Kira’s space than Kira would allow from anyone else. He plucked the shoulder of Kira’s purple sweatshirt. “...Comfortable.”

Diavolo’s fingers only barely brushed Kira’s shoulder. A small shiver ran through him, unnoticed.

They stood close to each other for only a moment, before Diavolo took a half step back.

“Glass of wine?” He offered.

“I don’t drink, really.”

“It’s wine, Yoshi, not hard liquor. Children drink wine.” Diavolo said that as he slipped into the kitchen.

Kira followed him with his eyes and said, puzzled, “No, I don’t think they should.”

Diavolo laughed at that. Kira smiled to himself, pleased, as he went for the living room. He sat on the couch, facing towards the TV and the twinkling Christmas tree.

“Trish is asleep, I take it.” Kira said.

“Long asleep.” Diavolo replied, as he came into the room. He sat down beside Kira and stretched his arm across the back of the couch. His hand laid close to Kira’s shoulder; close enough that Kira almost felt its presence. “Waiting for Santa now.”

Kira nodded towards the plate sitting on the coffee table. “That explains the milk and cookies.”

“Trish insisted. I can’t stand sweets, so help yourself.” Diavolo sipped his wine, then said, “Maybe next year we can leave Santa a bottle of ‘92 vintage.”

Kira chuckled. Diavolo’s hand was in the very corner of his vision, close enough to touching him that it made Kira’s heart race. He tried to play it cool, though he had no doubt Diavolo knew exactly what he was doing.

Diavolo lifted his glass to his lips again. Kira glanced, then shifted his gaze between Diavolo’s perfectly painted black lips and how delicately he held the glass stem. Effortlessly. Kira wanted to stroke and hold Diavolo’s fingers the same way he held the glass.

“It’s not... Easy for me to make genuine connections with people,” Diavolo admitted. Kira quirked his brow with interest. “But meeting you... It’s been nice.”

“Meeting is a bit of a stretch,” Kira commented. Despite this, he still clung to every word Diavolo said. “Blackmail is more accurate.”

Diavolo waved his hand dismissively, dangerously close to Kira’s face.

“It still stands. I’m glad I met you, Kira Yoshikage. I feel like we’ve helped each other in a lot of different ways.”

Kira nodded his head. “You aren’t wrong, I suppose...”

Diavolo grinned. He raised his glass of wine and shifted ever-so closer to Kira.

“Here’s to another year of violent success for us,” Diavolo said.

Kira leaned forward and took the glass of milk left out. He raised that and clinked it against Diavolo’s.

“No pun intended, I hope.”

Amused, Diavolo drank. His lipstick left a black mark around the rim of the glass. Then, with a sigh, Diavolo leaned forward and set his glass down. When he came back, he gave Kira a cocky look.

“...Would you believe me if I said that there was a mistletoe above you?”

Kira scoffed with a smile. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Diavolo smirked. “Would asking for a kiss be out of place?”

Kira, amused, lowered his glass. Diavolo did the same. With a carefully practiced elegance, Kira swept up Diavolo’s hand in his own. He wrapped his fingers beneath the wrist, his thumb stroked the soft flesh there. Likewise, he felt Diavolo’s pulse pump.

“Not... Per se.” Kira sighed, his heart racing to hold such a warm hand. It was unusual, but in a new, exciting way. He brought Diavolo’s hand up to his lips and adorned it with a kiss.

Diavolo smiled. Kira smiled back.

#jjba secret santa 2020 #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #kiraboss #kiravolo #kira yoshikage #jjba diavolo #jjba doppio #trish una #this fic was brought to you by my butt buddy johnathan who wrote the ending while i got ready for work #and my partner who harassed me until i let them read it < 3

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