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smolvenger · 10 months

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Miss Narracott and The Captain- Chapter Eight Finale (!)

Fandom: War Horse

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of sex, death, and violence but nothing brutal other than one brief mention that gets a bit vivid. But LOTS of fluff and emotions and crying and hugging. A Happy Ending.

Chapter Word Count: 3K

Series Summary: It is 1914. You are Y/N Narracott, the older sister of Albert Narracott. You must do what you can so your family can keep their farm. And so your brother can keep his beloved horse. Under financial struggles, you never expect romance to come into your life...until you have a chance encounter with James Nicholls- a Captain with a knack for drawing. But the threat of war lingers in the air...

Part One//Part Two//Part Three//Part Four//Part Five//Part Six//Part Seven

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

A/N: Thank you guys so much for sticking with this story for a character who we saw only briefly but deserved much more <3!! I hope you enjoy the finale!!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract

@eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner @12-pm-510 @meowmeow-motherfucker

November, 1918

It was another long day at the hospital. Not another overnight, but still long. You had an hour to go for your time, as you checked the clock. You headed over to make sure there was a glass of water on each bedside table.

It was simple training. It didn’t take long to get a First Aid and Home Nursing certification. They gave you a uniform of a white cap, a dark dress, and a white apron with a red cross stitched over the chest. Your first days as a VAD were full of fixing cups of tea and changing sheets.

But by now you had sewn flesh together. You had seen men die with their eyes open. You had seen infections that made you feel queasy to look at. Once, you were asked to hold down a man’s leg as it was amputated. You never forgot his screams. They rung in your nightmares for a week. Compared to that, sewing together flesh was easy. Many of the other volunteers were women from families who were not accustomed to hard work. They were in for a large shock and were forced to adaptation. Only a few came from labor or farms, as you did,and could tolerate work for long hours. But it was as if the sight of death had bonded and toughened you all.

With the young men in town away to fight, it was mostly women you ran into. They were glad and grateful friends. Your weekly knitting club for the troops led to much baked goods, playful gossip, released sobs, and vulnerable confessions. You valued the women you met and befriended in your circles, your fellow VAD’s, and neighbors and new in-laws.

But none of them could replace James, of course. James with his occasional visits when he was discharged- visits that ended too soon every time. James with his constant, beautiful letters filled with sketches. Just the last one read.

“My dear Mrs. Nicholls,

Joey is doing well. He’s as fit and stubborn and spirited as can be, no wonder he’s lasted so long. He’s racing alongside Topthorn-not that I’m too surprised about the speed of his gallop. Jaimie sends you his love and good wishes as well.

I’ve been thinking of you in Somerset. Of the reward to come-to come back to my wife, to come back to you. I hope you recall the Teddy Bear I sent you for your birthday. Yes, it is a children’s toy, but when you miss me, you may embrace him as you would me and kiss him on his head as you would me. It is a bit of love I send back to you to console you. At least until I can return to your arms and kisses for real.

Do not think of me as less of a man, but I confess, that is what moves me- a future of ours. A house of our own. Children of our own playing around the living room and getting into trouble. We can play music on the phonograph all we want without the cacophony of guns around us. We will laugh and talk over any silly old thing over every meal. Then we’ll go to bed, and I’ll take you as I did in the grass and we’ll make love without any fear or shame, only how much we adore each other…”

But now it was not only James and Joey you had to worry about. That first year, Albert ran off to join the army. When you found out, you ran to your parents and sobbed as you hugged them. Only sometimes you got a letter from him and you would press your parents for updates.

It only pushed you to work harder as a VAD and take it seriously. Knowing these soldiers groaning in their beds were someone else’s James or Albie. That someone was going to lose their husband or brother or son. And if you hurried and focused on the tasks at hand, you could help save someone’s life. That was what was on your mind when one of the doctors walked into the room.

“Everyone, there is an announcement- all staff must hurry into the lobby,” he declared.

Finishing pouring the last glass of water, you set the pitcher on a table and hurried there. All of you gathered in your uniforms, heads turning with whispers of what it could be. The head of the hospital stood there in the center of the room with a newspaper, he took off his spectacles to face you all. There were tears in his brown eyes.

“Everyone…England is going to sign an armistice this month with Germany and the other countries on the eleventh of this month. It will be the last day of fighting. In short, the war is about to end.”

There was silence. You could hear a few gasps. Every bit of you was vibrating and the breath in your lungs stopped. Finally, there was a cheer and an applause that broke out. Your colleagues wrapped their arms around you and hugged you and you hugged back.

You couldn’t believe it. Had it all been so fast? Yet so slow? It’s over…it’s over…the war is finally over!

But, from that last letter…James sent it just last month. Things could have changed. He still could have been killed! Or Albert too! All you had to do was wait for a final letter or telegram. One last one and it would confirm if James and Albert survived. Or not. In your heart, the war was not yet done. Just a few more days of fear…then it would be settled.

November 11th arrived, and the bells of the church rang louder than any Christmas you had seen. People danced in the streets, threw confetti, and cheered. There was no telegram. But no letter either. You shook every time the mail was delivered that month. But nothing crucial so far.

You were enjoying one of your free days eating luncheon with Mr. and Mrs. Nicholls. There was a knock on the door that made you jump.

“This isn’t when the postman arrives- it’s two hours early. Are we expecting visitors?” asked Mr. Nicholls.

“No, Mrs. Hayter isn’t arriving until tomorrow…” Mrs. Nicholls answered.

“I’ll get it,” you offered, getting out of your chair.

As you took a few steps closer to the door, you heard a sound.

A whinny. A horse’s whinny. A very familiar horse’s whinny. A whinny you had not heard since…since…

Your steps to the door became a run. You threw it open and let out a scream at the sight.

It was James in his now dirtied green uniform. He was standing outside leading Joey by the leash and giving you a salute. Without another word, you ran towards him, almost tackling him into a hug.

“James…James…is it you? Please tell me if this is real! Please-please tell me it’s you!” you begged, your voice breaking into tears.

You felt a hand reach your back. You could smell him, feel him, and hear that voice you loved so much.

“Yes, my darling…it’s me…and I’m not leaving anywhere, I’m staying with you for a very long time…” he answered.

There were footsteps and a shout from his parents behind you. You grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss. He smelt of wind and the smoke of travel as well as the horse and could feel his hands wrap around your back. You hugged him again and began to sob into his uniform, not caring anymore if it stained. He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you back so tight. Then he let go and greeted his parents, taking off his cap. Mrs. Nicholls kissed her son’s face a dozen times. Mr. Nicholls was weeping so badly his back shook as he hugged his son, James let him cry and rocked him as he stood. Assuring him, “it’s alright, father-I’m here. I’m back…”

You then turned to Joey and hugged his muzzle. The younger colt in the Narracott farm would have run away the second his leash was freed. But Joey, now a beautiful stallion in his own right, stood still. He accepted you just as he did the last day you saw him.

“I missed you, old boy. I missed you so much! I’m glad you made it- I’m so glad! Albie’s missed you most of all-he’ll be beside himself!” you whispered to the horse.

You kissed his long snout with its white diamond. He leaned back into you as if to hug you back.

To think, James was back home. Every single neighbor visited to see him all afternoon. Already at dinner, he was here to eat and compliment the cook. He finished his plate, cupping his wine in his large hand with one palm.

“Good God, I’ve missed all of you so much…the things I’ve seen…things I’ve heard…I don’t know if I can be in another war after this…” he said.

“This one is over…it’s all bad memories, James…you can rest now…” Mrs. Nicholls said.

“And how is the prettiest volunteer in England? I hope she can rest as well?” James asked, turning to you.

“I was thinking…I do like being a part of the VAD…if they still need help, I’ll volunteer…”

“Oh, of course you can, Mrs. Nicholls,” he replied with a smile.

“You can always tell us what you saw…what was it like-fighting?” your mother-in-law questioned.

James became still and his face was white.

“I saw everything ….my first battle, I saw a man blasted to pieces-his guts flying from the shot of a machine gun…”

He opened up as much as he could. The horrors and violence he had seen. The deaths too many to name. A friend one day was a corpse the next hour. All of you were silent as he recounted.

Both of you planned to return Joey to the Devon farm tomorrow. You both laid in bed after dinner. Too tired for anything more than simply holding each other. You put your fingers through his blonde-red hair. Traced each feature of his to memorize it.

“You didn’t fool around with some French girl, I hope!” you huffed.

His voice was earnest.

“I swear on my grandfather’s grave, there were no girls from any country anywhere near me all that time! Jaimie will tell you likewise…Y/N…may I confide something to you?” he asked.

“Yes…”

“I remembered the promise I made you when I left. When it started…”

“Yes, I recall, my dear…”

He turned over to you. Adjusting himself on the pillow so he lay right in front of you. You retreated your hands.

“I kept it. I talked to my superiors. Told them we needed to consider the German’s weaponry and plan accordingly. At first, they said no. I asked them again. They said no again. Then another major came in. He agreed. Then the more they talked to, the more it was agreed. Like common sense. They got permission. They sent spies. We fought with guns when we knew there’d be guns…no surprise attacks. Nothing without strict preparation and knowledge…”

“Did you ever charge your calvary?” you asked. You shifted to be in the blankets from the cold November night.

“Only a few times. But, Y/N, I remembered…I remembered you. And I did my best to survive without disobeying orders. Somehow…well, to be honest, I never went against major orders and even then, I don’t think I was ever caught to be killed as a traitor! But I survived. I thought of you…of how sad you were and how you told me you didn’t want to spend your life a widow. I wanted to keep my word…”

He swallowed. You saw one tear in the duct of his eye.

“You did, James, you did…”

He took both of your hands. He smiled down, seeing you both still wore your wedding bands. Then he placed a kiss on them.

“I wanted to thank you, Y/N…if it wasn’t for that…for you, your promise-if I never met you, never loved you, never married you…I don’t know if I’d be here…” he confided.

You gave him a kiss on the lips. It was probably your fiftieth of the day. But after four years of deprivation, you were glad to be caught up. You positioned him to rest against your chest, wrapping your arms around him.

“My parent’s will cry when they see you tomorrow…when they see Joey, too. We’ll have to ask them if they heard any word on Albie…I can only pray he’s alive now,” you said.

“He’s a natural soldier. There’s a chance he did…” James mused.

You stared up at the white ceiling. The house creaked with the nighttime settling over it.

“To think, James, we have one part of our lives ending. Now there’s a new one. No guns, no violence. A peacetime-just beginning….”

He got up from how you held him, then pulled the blankets over the both of you.

“As long as that peacetime is with you, then it will be worth it…” he said with a smile.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

April 1920. A year and almost a half later.

A new spring was born to match the new decade. Today, it was the perfect temperature of not too hot and not too cold. The tulips, daisies, and crocuses were in bloom everywhere. The field between Somerset and Devon was stunning. You noticed how it rolled on as James drove the motorcar down to visit your family. The brown rabbits hopped around the fields. The river, Innocent’s grove, was such a bright blue it seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. Soon it turned to the wide, sloping streets of your hometown. You waved hello to your old shop friends- Mary, Ida, and Alice all had found loves, marriages, or occupations of their own and were smiling. Of course, you made a quick stop to admire the painting of your husband in the town hall. On one corner, you could read its inscription.

’Joey’- Cpn. Nicholls, Fall, 1918.

All of you then finished the drive to the Narracott farm for a picnic.

Your family, along with a much alive Albert, welcomed you each. You, your husband, and baby sitting up in your arms. She thankfully didn’t make one cry the whole trip!

Dressed in her little white frock and little tufts of hair that looked just like yours, Little Rose Nicholls was the picture of infant health. Named after her grandmother, your mother.

There was never a happier night than when she arrived. She was born in October of 1919. She arrived and cried her first cry when the clock struck eleven. James ran up to the room the second he was allowed, and her crying calmed down when he held the small baby in a white bundle. He teared up and kissed her forehead, never letting her go until she needed to be fed.

James told you he was glad he survived the war just for that day. He got to live to have her, to see her, to hold her in his arms, to love her.

The newly crowned Uncle Albert took her in his arms and blew a raspberry on her cheek. She turned with wide eyes.

“Can we introduce her to Joey?! I don’t think they’ve met yet!” he offered.

“Yes, of course we can!” you said.

Out all of you walked to the backyard. Harold still waddled about. The War To End All Wars came and went and Harold was still biting everyone’s legs. He did make a few threatening nips of his beak that made Rosie a little scared and she cried. But she stopped when they passed him, and you approached Joey’s field.

“Oof- she’s already getting’ heavy!” Albert commented. “She’s a big girl now!”

“Here, let me have her,” James offered.

Her father scooped her into his arms. Albert whistled like an owl as Joey trotted closer, swishing his long, black tail.

Would Joey make a sudden noise to frighten her? No. The creature seemed to know that she was young and had to approach her with gentleness. How incredible animals had a sense like that, Albert would say! Joey slowed his steps and moved his nuzzle close. Only his breath tickling her cheek.

“Here-this is a horse. His name is Joey, darling. What do you think?” James asked, holding her up and closer to the animal.

Her eyes went wide, and she made a small coo. Joey leaned forward. She reached out a grubby hand and touched his nose, petting him.

“There…there’s my girl, Rosie, you pet him like that,” James nudged.

She kept reaching for him, petting him again and again. Then Joey got out his large, pink tongue and licked her hand. Rose Nicholls smiled and began squealing in delight. Joey let her pet him with her grubby hands. And once she was done, he turned away. James carried her over to show her the farm and the animals.

“Here’s the garden mummy grew up in. She’d see rabbits eating her flowers, like the naughty rabbit eating the vegetable garden in your storybook! If you look, we might see one!”

You couldn’t help but smile. Your daughter was worth every sleepless night and disgusting diaper. James was always there by your side to help you. He knew your child needed her father as much as she needed her mother. In fact, he was already beginning to spoil her! A room in your new house dedicated to her nursery. It had the teddy bear in her cradle as well as any little cloth dolly and book and dress he would splurge on for her.

James decided to retire from being a soldier. The War to End All Wars had done too much for him to endure another. Sometimes he even awoke from a nightmare or jumped at a loud sound. He did find work as a schoolteacher. His gentle authority and calm voice of reason was one his students adored him for. And it meant you could still volunteer as a VAD on weekends. He would grade his papers next to Rosie’s cradle in the evening.

You turned around to see Albert smoothing the corners of the picnic blanket out on the grass. Your father brought over a picnic basket. He looked healthy and cheery-he told you he was going to quit drinking and was on his second month without a sip.

“Here! Foods ready! While it’s hot everyone!” Your mother announced, bringing out the savory pie, fresh from the oven.

All of you sat on the blanket. James handed you little Rosie as you sat down. You bounced her on your lap. James made you a plate and passed you yours. Savory pie, sliced bread, berries, cheese, and fresh produce and jam cake too.

Then your father lifted a glass of lemonade.

“Here-let’s have a toast, eh?”

You all lifted a glass with your free hand.

“Here-to us. Our family!” he cried.

“To us!” all of you repeated.

James turned to you and clinked your glass again.

“And our little family as well,” he cheered.

“To the three of us,” you agreed.

You received him with a peck on the lips. Then all of you began to help yourselves. Rosie herself was beginning to enjoy the small bits of bread you gave her. She gave a laugh like music and you, and James beamed at her. You took a deep breath. Enjoying the spring weather and the picnic with both families. The one who raised you and the one you had. A family, a happy life full of peace with a living husband who loved you.

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 14 days

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A father's anger

Day 1 Prompts: The feast | The chase

For: @feast-of-horns

Rating: M

Pairing: Tulkas/Maedhros

Themes: NSFW / NSFT

Warnings: Kissing | Drinking | Some Sensuality

Wordcount: 1.1 K

Summary: Tulkas and Maedhros discuss Fëanor while they eat and drink during the feast.

A/n: This takes place after Melkor’s release from Lumbi, where he begins to spread strife among the Noldor and encouraged elves such as Fëanor to reject the Valar and return to Middle-Earth.

Minors DNI | 18+

This is also available on AO3

Nelyafinwë waited until his lord and companion finished pouring a measure of fine wine for him. “I fear my father does not take kindly to my feasting with you, my lord.”

Tulkas regarded the firstborn son of Finwë discreetly, even as he served himself a large measure of mead. Fëanáro—his knuckles white against his goblet—was displeased by the sight of his own firstborn seated among the Valar, beings he was coming to mistrust almost as much as he mistrusted his half-brothers.

“Pray what can he do, Nelyo?” The Vala laughed. He drained his drinking horn in one swallow and poured another measure of mead for himself. “You are your own lord now, and your sire can no longer hinder you from acting according to your own wishes.”

“Such may indeed be the case,” Maedhros returned, wishing he could be as sanguine as his lord when it came to the matter of his father. “But you do not know my father as well as you should. He will have many things to say upon my return; I am certain of it.”

Tulkas took his companion’s hand into his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He could never fully understand the intricate ties within elven families, and the undercurrents that ebbed and flowed around those who claimed others as kin by marriage and blood. He could not offer sage counsel either, for he had neither brother nor sister nor mother nor father, and war was his calling, not soothing a father’s baseless anger.

“Pay no heed to him,” Tulkas said, and he emptied his drinking horn the way he did before. Then, without warning, he leaned forward and kissed the elf’s neck lightly, his arms holding him in a loose embrace. It was a reflection of his exuberant mood, to be sure, and perhaps, it was also unwise. Fëanáro was already murmuring his misgivings about the Valar; he would not think highly of his son conducting himself in such a brazen manner with one such as him. Still, Tulkas delighted in the way Nelyafinwë’s pulse throbbed like the wings of a hummingbird just beneath his skin, the way he gasped softly when his teeth left their mark on the hollow of his throat, and when his hands slipped around his back and tangled themselves in his hair.

“My father—” The prince began.

"Pay no heed to him," Tulkas repeated and interrupted him, before he sought his lips. His kiss was languid and deep, as if he were savoring all that he had found. Then he drew back and rested his brow against his elven companion’s with a satisfied sigh.

“Your father has taken his leave of us,” Tulkas observed. Fëanáro’s seat lay vacant; the elven lord had departed without saying a farewell to his son. “But if it is his anger that you fear, Nelyo,” he added, his long fingers brushing against the splendid necklace—linked horns of beaten red and yellow gold—Nelyafinwë wore in honor of the feast. Tulkas had given it as a gift. “You can always return to Valimar with me. You need not return to Tirion after this.”

“I thank you, my lord,” Maedhros replied, “but I believe that it is best if I return to Tirion after this.” He smiled when Tulkas pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Father’s anger will only grow if I stay away for too long.”

“You allow your father to wield too much power over you, beloved.” Tulkas kissed him harder this time, sending a shiver down his back. Nelyafinwë groaned softly and returned his kiss with equal passion; it was as if he had grown bolder in his father’s absence.

“I know, my lord,” he replied when he was able to speak. “But it does not change the fact that he is my father, and I do not wish to distress him in any way.”

“Very well,” Tulkas told him, and he called for another flagon of mead. Nelyafinwë took a deep, steadying breath. The air was already thick with the scents of wine and herbs and roasting meat. Golden yellow flames licked at giant deer while attendants turned them slowly on great wooden spits. Others basted them in honey and spices until the meat crackled. Fire dancers performed tremendous feats to the music of drums, twirling and spinning lit torches around their bodies. Minstrels strummed harps and viols while revelers sang every vulgar refrain they could think of. Nelyafinwë flushed.

“It still amazes me to see elf and Ainu conduct themselves this way,” he observed quietly. An attendant came forth with a platter laden with gammon pies. His mouth watered at the scent.

“Tis the feast, Nelyo.” Tulkas took two for himself and tore into one with both hands. “It frees us from all that restrains us, even for a little while.”

Another attendant offered a large bowl full of strawberries. Some were as large as an elfling’s fist. Nelyafinwë took one for himself and bit into it. Its juice dripped down his chin. When he reached for a square of cloth to clean it, Tulkas stopped him by grabbing his wrist.

“Allow me,” he entreated. Nelyafinwë shivered when he leaned forward and kissed the juice off his skin.

“Save your vigor for the chase, old friend!” Oromë cried from his seat on the dais. “Or your companion may be left wanting.”

“My vigor will not fail me,” Tulkas answered, his eyes bright with good humor. “And do not fear for my companion, my friend. He will not be left wanting in any way.”

Many of the other Valar struggled to conceal their mirth—even the Star-Kindler herself. Nelyafinwë turned a pale pink from cheek to throat, but he smiled all the same. And he was grateful in no small measure for his father not being present to hear it. Fëanáro was a prideful elf. He would not have taken kindly to such talk.

A breathless hush fell over the revelers, and all who had gathered turned to look when Vána rose after leaning in to whisper to her husband. Her handmaids made haste to follow her when she left her seat on the dais. The others were quick to finish their food and drink, for the Ever-Young left her place to fetch the Valaróma for her lord husband. The chase was almost at hand.

“It is time, beloved.” Tulkas rose as well. He held out his hand and helped Nelyafinwë to his feet. “And I hope you will not mind if I bring you back to the halls after I find you,” he whispered in the elf’s ear. “I would much rather take you in our chambers as always, away from the prying eyes of others.”

“I would like that as well,” Nelyafinwë returned, gratified. Tulkas, as was his wont, would bring him back to the halls after capturing him during the chase. It spared the elf having to explain himself to his father upon his return to Tirion. “But you must catch me first, my lord.”

tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese

#feastofhorns #feastofhorns2024 #tulkas #maedhros #tulkas x maedhros #the silm #the silmarillion #the silm fanfiction

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catofadifferentcolor · 11 months

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Terrible Fic Idea #49: Robert's Rebellion, but make it gender swap

The thing I love about Robert's Rebellion is that its causes and motivations are far from clear. Was Lyanna kidnapped and raped? Did she go willingly with Rhaegar and chose to stay with him even after her disappearance led to war? Was Robert fighting for the woman he claimed to love or the Iron Throne? Every side has its own opinion, and that is just so viscerally real I can't help but love it.

So naturally I thought: what can I do to twist the narrative even further? Or: What if Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen were gender swapped?

Just imagine it:

In 281, King Aerys and Queen Rhaella have two living children: Rhaelle, 21 and heir apparent to The Iron Throne, and Visneya, 5.

For lack of viable Targaryen alternative, Rhaelle married the Dornish Prince Elias Martell two years previously, but it's far from a love match. They try, but active, outgoing, worldly - even mystical - Rhaelle has little in common with sickly, introverted, salt of the earth Elias. The more they try to make their marriage work, the more they rub each other the wrong way.

Then the tourney at Harrenhal occurs and Princess Rhaelle meets Lyman Stark, the third son of Lord Rickard, and it's love at first sight.

(She's also introduced to Robert Baratheon, who falls in love with her instantly, but the feeling is very much not returned.)

The first signs of trouble come when Lyman Stark wins the tourney and crowns Princess Rhaelle queen of love and beauty. It's not unheard of for unbetrothed knights to crown members of the royal family, but the way he does it sets the Dornish party on edge.

Rhaelle and Lyman begin corresponding after the tourney and, shortly after Rhaelle births her second child, she disappears from the Red Keep.

Robert's Rebellion hits all the same notes, but in a slightly different key.

Brandon Stark, rather than demanding the return of his sister, enters the Red Keep with his father to answer Aerys' summons. When neither profess to know the location of the crown princess, Aerys has both executed. It's this that sparks the rebellion, with Robert being the face of it not for the theft of his betrothed but for his proximity to the Iron Throne. (There should be a decided feeling that Robert would have tried for the throne if Rhaelle ever succeed her father.)

Elias dies at the Red Fork. Jaime kills the Mad King before he can blow up King's Landing. Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon are killed by Lannister knights. Robert takes the throne. Visneya and Daenerys are spirited off to Essos.

Throughout it all, there's no sign of Rhaelle or Lyman.

Ned eventually finds them both at the Tower of Joy, where he learns Lyman caught a fever and died shortly after learning of Brandon and Rickard's death. Rhaelle has been keeping his bones next to her bed a la Gustav II - and has recently given birth to a young son she's named Aenys.

When Rhaelle refuses to hand over Lyman's bones or return to the capitol, a struggle ensues. It should never be clear if Rhaelle went the Juliet I'd rather die without my beloved route or if Ned accidentally wounded her during the struggle.

Ned claims Aenys as his bastard son, renaming him Jon, and canon proceeds apace.

Very little should change in the lead-up to the books save that Rhaelle's actions are held up by men in power as just another reason women shouldn't be allowed to inherit. Dorne insists that the crown princess was kidnapped from her loving marriage with Prince Elias, the North insists that she went with Lyman willingly. Robert mourns in his cups over his lost love Rhaelle, who he would have treated so much better than Prince Elias, but still maintains the strongest bonds of brotherhood with Ned Stark, who he doesn't blame for Lyman's actions, saying he would have stolen Rhaelle away too if given half the chance. He also still wishes to murder her sisters hiding in Essos to secure his throne.

...and that's where the plot bunny runs out. What happens during the events of canon because of these changes is very much dealer's choice.

Bonuses include: 1) The rampant misogyny endemic to ASOIAF and the clear suggestion if you just treated women as human beings you wouldn't be in this position, but Rhaelle's decision to run away with Lyman not treated as a victory of feminism so much as an abdication of the responsibility she accepted when named crown princess; 2) Suggestions of Aerys' madness echoing in all members of the Targaryen family at various points throughout, but never explicitly seen in another until the Tower of Joy; and 3) Ned, remembering Rhaelle's final moments, always looking for signs of a similar madness in Jon and openly encouraging his desire to join the Night's Watch.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you decide to do anything with it.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

#plot bunny #fic ideas #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #got #asoiaf #rhaegar targaryen #lyanna stark #rhaegar x lyanna #elia martell #gender swap #rule 63 #robert's rebellion #ned stark #jon snow is a targaryen

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smallraindrops-blog · 2 years

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Wake Me From This Dreaming

Word counts: 8.1K

Hypnos x male reader

Warnings: violent, trauma, family issues, war, cursing, drunkness, talk of death, death, sex work, no beta.

Notes: First off, I just want to say thank you to everyone who has been waiting for this part. I swear to god, Yall are the most patient readers ever.

The second half of this part will hopefully be out soon.

Please heed all warnings.

Again folks, thank you. ♥️

Patroclus’ last letter

I hope this letter will never be read. That somehow even against the will of the gods and fates themselves, we will all live. I hope we will return to the house as a family. That we will never pick up another weapon for the rest of our days.

If you are reading this then I suppose the gods had gotten their wishes.

I am lucky to say I have loved and been loved in return. Both wonderfully heavy burdens I will never trade anything for. Not even the gods can take that from me now.

To my beloved.

Achilles, if you are reading this with our son, I love you more than I can put to words. I can remember the first time I saw you, young and beautiful and bright. Fingers playing on a lyre, golden and divine in the afternoon light. I still see you like that even all these years later. My Achilles. My beloved.

Take care of our son. He admires you so much. I remember watching him when he was still a very young lad, trailing behind you and trying to walk just like you. His footprints were so small next to yours.

I love you. I will see you again.

To my son.

I never thought I would have a child. The idea of it seemed impossible. Then we found you and you found a place in my heart, in my very soul. Loving and raising you was the easiest and greatest thing I have ever done.

You are my child and I am your Pa, no matter how much time has passed. Don't you ever doubt that.

Be a good lad. Mind your footwork and don’t forget to eat. Eat for our sake if you need a reason. Should I be the first to go, then take care of your father and forgive him for what to come. His heart was always too big for him.

My child, I love you. Be good. Be brave.

The urn was simple with geometric borders on the top but you could tell from the sturdy craftsmanship that it had been brought before the war had started. You sighed, rubbing your eyes.

It made sense to plan for one’s death, just as your parents had done, even if there was a small childish part of you that didn’t want to admit it, wanted to hold on to the anger of being left behind. You thought of the pitying looks the others gave you, even Peros who for once didn’t have anything to say.

You pulled your hand away and started again at the urn.

At least your parents were together now and no longer in pain. They will be placed in the tomb together and if the afterlife did exist, then they would be together.

What more could a son ask for?

You heard footsteps, the clink of armor and turned around to see Pyrrhus lifting up the tent flap and coming in without even offering a greeting. You saw the faint outlines of bodies outside the tent. So Pyrrhus made sure to come with bodyguards even while dressed in his own elaborate armor and his sword by his hip. You thought he looked rather garnished compared to yours and everyone else.

You were glad you kept your own simple armor on, Achilles’ spear close by. You also knew where all the weapons were, the ones on display and the ones hidden away.

Pyrrhus made a faint sound of disgust, his neat red braid spilling over his shoulder as he studied the tent.

It was still a shock to see him. He really did look a lot like Achilles, but not perfectly so. It was more than just his red hair. There was something off with the way he looked at people, of the way he smiled, all teeth. It was like Pyrrhus knew what he was supposed to do but couldn’t muster up the actual feeling behind it.

It puts you on edge.

“This is the tent my father spent his time in?” Pyrrhus scoffed, putting weight on the word ‘my father’. You wanted to laugh. Pyrrhus sounded like a child even if he was older than you.

“Father preferred more simple details.” You replied, trying to keep the tension out of your voice. It was the truth. Achilles would scoff over Agamemnon and other kings for fancy silverware and chairs in their tent. The only times your father bothered with details was when he was getting a gift for your Pa.

Pyrrhus grunted, clearly not believing you. With his hands clasped behind his back, he began a slow lap around the tent. The look of faint distaste on his face only added to his arrogance. You stayed by the table, only moving your eyes to follow him.The urn hidden behind your back.

“I heard rumors, you know.” Pyrrhus offered up airily, like you and him were old friends. “That you were actually his slave’s son and not his. I must admit, we look nothing alike.”

“It is no secret that I am adopted. And Patroclus wasn’t his slave.” You said, letting the implications hang in the air. It felt wrong to call him by that and not by Pa but Pyrrhus wasn’t the first to try this. Most would understand what you were saying, their eyes darting away for a moment then looking back at you in a new light.

Your so-called brother only scoffed. “So I have been told. I highly doubt it, not when there are plenty of beautiful spear brides.” You noticed his eyes lingered on of the wars prize Achilles had claimed, beautifully made swords and shields. Below those were a simple wooden chest, filled with jewelry and gold.

If that was what he wanted, then so be it. You couldn’t care less. Then Pyrrhus turned back to you and slowly made his way.

Pyrrhus stopped in front of you, almost to your chin. You shouldn’t feel so smug for having quite a few inches over him. Not even you knew Pyrrhus hated you- was jealous of you for daring to share the title of son with him.

You had pitied him at first. It must hurt to know that your father had raised another child while being sent away and one not even of his own blood. Now with him in front of you, you just hated him. He may be of Achilles’ blood but he was not his son.

“I won’t allow some paupers’ orphan the honor of being my Father’s son, nor do I plan on calling you my brother.” Pyrrhus said, his tone final. He was used to people obeying him and it showed. He was waiting for you to bow your head, to acknowledge his sole claim to Achilles' legacy.

Your mouth twitched up in a grim smile. “I don’t think that is up to you. Father signed the paperworks, he had named me as one of his heirs in front of society and not even you can change that.”

You leaned closer as Pyrrhus snarled quietly, his white teeth bared and his blue eyes burned into yours. It was also the first real emotion you saw from him.

Hatred.

“Call me brother or don’t. I don’t care.” You told him quietly. “Far I am concerned, this war has already taken everything I cared about. So run around like a foolish child carrying the legacy of a dead man like it was yours when we both know it isn’t. I hope this nightmare of a war is everything you wanted, Pyrrhus.“

Pyrrhus was breathing heavily and you saw the faint shaking of his lips. You moved back, the urn still safe. Your parents’ ashes untouched by this madness.

“Leave.” You told him. “Now.”

“I finally read up on that philosopher, Protagoras. Did you know that he was Plato’s teacher?” Hypnos said, running a hand through your hair. His nails lightly scratched your scalp. You blinked up at him slowly, taking in his words. Your head pillowed on his lap with your limbs spread out lazily. It was ridiculous how large Hypnos’ bed was, that you had enough space to spread out.

Hypnos didn’t meet your eyes, staring thoughtfully at the constellation of Virgo. You stole the moment to simply admire the line of his collarbone and his bare chest.

“I actually didn't.” You said, turning your head and pressing a kiss against Hypnos’ soft belly and getting a squirm from him. He smacked your shoulders with a huff and you fought a grin as you returned back to your place on his lap. “I must admit I don’t see his influence on Plato. Old man seemed happy to accept only his truth.”

Hypnos laughed, his hand going back to running though your hair. It made you feel like a pet but you found you didn’t mind, not from Hypnos. His bright golden eyes found yours and no, you definitely didn’t mind.

“There is such a thing as objective truth though.” Hypnos told you matter factly with a smile. He made a point to tap his finger on your nose and you scowled. You caught his hand before he could pull away and placed his hand on your chest. Your hand was broader than Hypnos’ and covered his effortlessly.

Idly, you gave a squeeze, soaking in the warmth of his palm against your chest.

“Pluto misunderstood, maybe willingly so. He was a wealthy, educated man who was comfortable in his place of the world.” You replied, running your thumb along his. “Who gets to decide what the objective truth is? Kings? Farmers?”

You paused then quietly. “Gods?”

Hypnos raised a brow but said nothing. However there was a faint smile on his face, as if encouraging you to continue.

You licked your lips, thinking. You weren’t good at debates but you always liked Protagoras’ line of thinking. It made sense to you, everyone lived differently, have their own experience coloring how they view the world and therefore everyone have their own truth, their own code.

“I don’t know but I think he was right to tell the others to listen to everyone, not just the wealthy and powerful.” You paused, “I do know that I don’t know what the objective truth is but I know what mine is. Protagoras had a saying, ‘Man is the measure of all things.’”

There was a moment of silence and you wondered if maybe you said too much. You did directly insult a god while in his lap. You risked a glance at Hypnos’ face and only saw fondness.

Hypnos pulled his hand back up and cupped your face and you swallowed. You were unable to look away from him, his eyes bright and lulling. His white curls fell around his face, cloud-like and you almost told him he really did look like a dream, soft and pretty and unreal.

”You are a good man, do you know that?” He whispered as he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss on your lips. His lips were soft against yours, tasting faintly sweet. Before you could return the kiss, make him stay with you, he pulled away with a smile.

He resumed running his hand through your hair, humming a lullaby. You knew this one even if there was no name for it. The song called for simpler times, of bonfires and laughter.

You closed your eyes, and let the world drift away.

Asphodel was an unfamiliar place to you. When you were alive, you had heard of its verdant plains and flowers. You had always thought it sounded nice. You weren’t sure where you would end up but you had hoped for Asphodel since it had sounded far better than Tartarus and you weren’t worthy of Elysium.

You eyed the molten magma warily as you followed Thanatos. You saw two children, an older girl and a younger boy huddled on one of the rocks. The boy was tossing pebbles in the magma but the girl stared at you and Thanatos with wide, dark eyes.

You winced and looked away.

You had heard of the river Phlegethon overflooding Asphodel from your father. Zagreus had mentioned it as well but you haven’t realized how bad it was. You saw a group of elders huddled together, staring off into nowhere.

Surely Master Hades or his queen must be trying to do something for these people. These weren’t the monsters that haunted Tartarus. As far as you knew, most of the people here were farmers or craftsmen with their families. Simple folks who just lived their lives yet they were being punished for it.

“Mortal, stop gawking. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can both return to our duties.” Thanatos snapped. You scowled as you met his hard stare. It still amazed you that Hypnos and Thanatos were twins. Their eyes may have the same golden color but Thanatos’ stare was hardened and narrowed with his mouth tight in disapproval.

“I thought Tartarus was supposed to be the place of punishment for mortals, not Asphodel.” You snapped back. “And I have a name, god of death.”

“Watch it, mortal.” Thanatos whirled around, looming over you but you remained in place, meeting his glare with your own. There was a beat of silence as you and him stared each other down.

You opened your mouth to say something but you didn’t. You shut your mouth, lips tightening.

It was only the memory of Hypnos’ nervous glance between you and his twin that held your tongue. Do it for Hypnos’ sake, he was worth putting up with Thanatos for however long this took.

Thanatos hummed, unimpressed and turned back around. You didn’t immediately follow, you took a deep breath - thinking of Hypnos, of the promises you made- and let it out. Then you made your legs obey.

Magma boiled and spilled over rocks, uncaring of the warring mortal and god in its wake.

You debated pulling away the bottle of wine from Achilles’ fist but you knew it would be a fight you would lose. Achilles was a good fighter and had a fast left hook on a good day. You eyed the first empty bottle that was close to the end of the table, normally any wine you did have was with dinner and watered down.

You just weren’t expecting to find your father alone in his and Patroclus’ tent, drunk as a skunk. You had never seen him drunk before. But things were different in war, you supposed. You had been treated as a man since the first battle, marching back into camp with prizes - some made of gold, some weeping as they held onto their daughters- and dried blood smeared on your helmet.

It was weeping and pleading that followed you into nightmares. It even drowned out the sounds of screams.

So you joined him, planning on just one drink and helping your father sober up.

You felt light for the first time since arriving so you polished off your third- no fourth drink. You let him pour another cup for himself and you. You told yourself to sip, to slow down. You took a gulp without meaning to, a pleasant fuzzy warmth in your stomach growing.

“I can’t tell you how many times over the years I have thought about bringing Pyrrhus to come live with us.” Achilles said out of nowhere before he swallowed half of his wine.

You blinked, feeling lightheaded. “Pyrrhus?”

“My firstborn. Your older brother. I think. I used to not be able to say his name. ”

You wrinkled your nose, taking a sip of wine then blinked when you realized you already finished off the cup. How many have you had already?

You let your Father pour you another drink. “I don’t have a brother.”

“Yes, you do.” Achilles snapped. You scowled but said nothing. You blinked at the red wine, the taste of it thick on your tongue. For a moment you thought of the baker’s son back home, of how the wine would taste on his lush lips. You didn’t love him but you enjoyed how his mouth felt against yours.

Then Achilles sighed loudly with a rueful grin. You took a drink, embarrassed that you have forgotten where you were.

“Well, no I guess not, huh lad?” He said, taking a deep drink of his wine. “Can’t call him your brother if I only acknowledge him when I have to. Today is his birthday.”

You said nothing. You wanted to go find Pa and get him to make your father act normal again. You frowned, realizing you haven’t seen him all evening.

“Where is Pa?”

“Hm?” Achilles blinked then waved a hand. “Saving lives. In the medical tent. Being useful unlike the rest of us. If I had any skill at politics, I could have given him a school. He likes teaching. Brilliant and handsome. All I had done was hurt him but he kept me anyway.”

You sighed and then you poured him and yourself a drink. Achilles rubbed his flushed face with a sigh. You were willing to bet that yours looked similar. “You know what, lad? He didn’t want you here in the war, Patroclus wanted to send you to Chiron. But I pushed for it. If you can make a name for yourself here, you will be set for life.”

“I know Father.” You said quietly. Achilles had told you this before. Making a name for yourself. Glory to gods and his parents. You didn’t feel like there was much glory to be found among the mud and bodies.

Achilles scoffed, his blonde hair spilling over his shoulders. “Father. Some fucking father I am. I wasn’t there at the first one’s birth and I sent my other one to dance with death.”

“You are not a bad father! You’re just having some stupid useless old man regrets.” You snapped, slamming a fist on the table, causing hairline cracks in the thick wood. The empty bottle rattled and broke on the ground. You and Achilles blinked at it for a long moment. Then you reached, placing a hand on his shoulder causing him to look at you again.

“You are not a bad father. Pa wouldn’t let you.” You repeated. “Beside. We all know I would have followed you both all the way here if you did try to leave me at Chiron. At least this way we are together.”

Achilles blinked sluggishly then a warm, drunken laugh bubbled out between his lips. You found yourself doing the same, both of you filling the tent with laughter.

“You would have, you little shit.” Achilles hiccuped, sounding helplessly fond, throwing an arm on your shoulder and pulled you into a clumsy hug. You nodded, still laughing as you pulled away and lifted your drink. Achilles did the same.

An hour or so later, you heard Patroclus come into the tent. You blinked at him, realizing dimly you were on your back on the cold ground. You grinned at his shocked glance. Achilles snored from under the table, a hand still curled around his cup.

Patroclus opened his mouth, but you pressed a finger to your lips. “Shh. Father is sleeping.” You told him loudly.

“I can see that, my son.” Patroclus said dryly. You laughed at his tone, not seeing his frustration turned into soft amusement as he watched you laugh.

Patroclus ran a hand down his face, walked over to the table and downed what was left of yours and Achilles’ drink. You couldn’t help but laugh again. He walked over the bed and grabbed a pillow and blanket before returning to you.

“Lift your head.” He ordered. You obeyed, sighing as your head landed on softness and the blanket rested on you, pulled up to your chin.

“Father isn’t bad.” You slurred, sleep already pulling you under. “Just… life doesn’t work like it should sometimes.”

Patroclus stopped, his dark eyes softened as he leaned down to you. He brushed your hair out of your face. And you felt like a small child again. You swallowed, desperately wishing you were. Life was so much easier.

“I know lad. Be good and go to sleep. You are going to have a headache tomorrow.” Patroclus said, his words fading. You hummed, eyes closed.

Past the magma and rocky cliffs, what you saw only made your guts twisted in shame. While so-called heroes fought and partied among the beauty of Elysium, there were whole families suffering right under them. Even the house should be ashamed, living and working in such comfort themselves. You swallowed the knot that formed in your throat.

You will have to talk to Hypnos about this. If you were pathetic for wishing to hear Hypnos’ easy and cheerful voice to smooth away the shame you felt then pathetic you shall be.

You shook your head, clearing your remorseful thoughts. Right now, it was no use to anyone.

Walking around like this was a waste of time. This land of fire was unfamiliar to you, and you suspected that most of Asphodel was unknown to Thanatos as well. However, the locals would know far more and would remember anything unfamiliar.

“Thanatos.” You called out, “We should try talking to some of the shades here. We clearly aren’t getting anywhere by just wandering around.”

The god ignored you.

Of course.

You bit back a snarl and marched ahead and got right in front of him. “I know you heard me.”

Thanatos gave you a cool look. “Do you think you have the right to address me by my first name, mortal?” His sentence ended with a pointed tone.

You sucked in a long, deep breath. And remind yourself this was Hypnos’s brother and you couldn’t reach for his neck and strangle Thanatos because Hypnos loved his twin. Thanatos watched you with an almost smirk on his face and you got the sense that he was pleased at your anger. As if it proved something to him.

“I truly don’t understand.” Thanatos continued, driving the needle deeper. “My brother still acts like a childish brat with a toy but I thought the shine on you would have worn off by now.”

“Shut your mouth.” You warned, the words slipping out before you could stop it. “I don’t care what you say about me but not even you are allowed to speak of him like that. Not to me.”

Thanatos’ golden eyes grew wide in anger, his hands tightening around his scythe.

You should apologize, bow your head and accept your punishment. You knew it. But you didn’t and you won’t. You had thought maybe Thanatos and Hypnos had reached an understanding since they were talking more but apparently you were wrong.

“Hypnos loves you. For some reason that is beyond my mortal understanding.” You said quietly, “He makes so many excuses for you and your cruel words to him. Yet you can’t give him even a smile in return.”

A beat of silence, only bubbling magma and the faint cries of small Hydras filled the area.

Then Thanatos pulled back, an unnerving calm taking over his face. You stayed in place, you faced worse things than this god.

“If it came between his family and you, do you really think he would pick you over us?” Thanatos spat out. His hand still wrapped around his weapon, ready to strike you down.

It hurts to even hear it, let alone the thought of it. You feared that day more than you feared the end of time itself. You shoved the thought away. You won’t let Thanatos see how deeply those words dug in.

“I love him enough to not make him choose. Can you say the same?” You replied, sounding more calm than you actually felt.

The air grew thick and uncomfortable, neither of you backing down. Something flickered over Thanatos’ face but it was gone before you could put a name to it.

You opened your mouth to continue, hoping -praying- that maybe you can finally break past Thanatos’ defense.

“Thanatos! Y/N!” A familiar voice broke the silence, and you and him both turned. Zagreus waved, on one of the few boats. When the boat got close enough, Zagreus took a flying leap and landed on solid ground with a cheeky grin.

The unspoken words hang heavy between you and Thanatos, enough so that even Zagreus’ smile diminished. Anything you saw on Thanatos’ face had disappeared, lost to you now.

“What are you doing here?” Thanatos asked, watching as Zagreus hurried over. His footsteps left black footmarks against the hot ground. He flashed another grin once close enough. You saw a faint blue trailed behind him, carrying the smell of the sea with it.

“I heard from my parents what you guys were trying to do and thought I could help out.”

“Didn’t Master Hades-“ Thanatos spoke but Zagreus waved his words away with an easy smile.

“This is more important. We can’t have a shade, even if he was a hero, attacking and disrespecting members of the house like the way Pyrrhus had been lately.”

Zagreus turned to you. “I know there are some family issues, maybe I can help you guys with that. Gods knows, my father and I had our share of disagreements. We still do. ”

You twisted your mouth, “I appreciate it but this isn’t one of those issues that can be helped.”

Zagreus raised a brow but said nothing. You almost rolled your eyes, Zagreus was nosy enough that he could even the most busybody aunties a run for their money.

You glanced at Thanatos, “I was telling Lord Thanatos we need to speak to the locals, they would notice before anyone else if something is wrong. No one can hide from every pair of eyes.”

Thanatos side-eyed you using his title but shook his head. “And I was telling the mortal that it was a waste of time. We need to go deeper in. They won’t be walking among the other mortals otherwise we would have already found them.”

You noticed he still didn’t use your name, rolling your eyes and from the brief frown on Zagreus’ face, he did noticed as well.

“Then we should split up.” Zagreus offered. His back was straight and his face was calm, not giving anything away. He looked like a prince, confident in his own authority. He had grown since you first met him. You were torn between a moment of pride and wanting to reach over and ruffle his already messy hair.

“I think both of you are right. Sir y/n, are you comfortable going to the villages on the outskirts? Words will spread faster if there are gods looking for Pyrrhus. We might end up losing them.” Zagreus nodded to Thanatos, “We can keep going this way since we both know this area better.”

You and Thanatos glanced at each other then nodded to Zagreus.

You knew he wanted to get away from you, just as you wanted to get away from him.

It was obvious you were one of Hades’ workers yet the townsfolk didn’t do much beyond sparing you a glance. Some of the elderly shades eyed you from over their chessboard but said nothing.

You couldn’t help but be glad to see some form of civilization. It was a small town, broken by rivers of magma and jutting rocks. But it was proof that mortals had found a way to cope.

You hung back, resting against one of the rocks as people moved around. There were mothers chatting among themselves as children played a game of hopscotch. You heard a shade pushing his wares, promising the finest rugs. You saw some men, talking about the latest fight in Elysium as money exchanged hands.

It felt like a painfully normal town. Which meant it if one knew how to, it could be easy to hide among the shades. There had been raids but from the lax feeling you got from the townsfolk, it hasn't happened here. Not yet.

You didn’t talk about it, not to your parents or Hypnos even. You didn’t want them to know what you did on the run from Pyrrhus. You had learned how to watch people during that time. Your life depended on it but it always sounded like a pitiful excuse to you. You didn't want to see the disappointment mark their faces. Especially not Hypnos’.

But what was done was done.

So you watched and waited.

Some of the shades glanced curiously in your direction but otherwise went on with their business. A dark-haired woman with kohl lined eyes and an almost sheer chiton smiled at you but with a shake of your head, she gave a playful pout then moved on.

You wondered if you could talk Hypnos into wearing something like that. Maybe with the circlet…

You reminded yourself firmly that you were here for a reason.

It wasn’t long until you a man moved a little too easily between the crowd, sure of his place in the world in a way that spoke of noble upbringing. It stood out amongst the common shades. He must have felt your eyes on him because he turned his head and stared in your direction with narrowed eyes.

You watched how his eyes widened when he saw the mark of Hades on you. He quickly ducked his head, and hurried off. You pushed off from the rock and trailed after him.

You hung back, scowling at shades that brushed against you. It was only when the town became more broken up and you had weaved around carefully over boiling magma, that you worked where he was going. It was a cave, men made from how perfectly circled the entrance was.

You saw the sign for brothel and cursed under your breath. You just hoped Hypnos would be understanding. You followed the shade in, spotting a warm light far off. The shade turned around and saw you but just before he took off, you caught him by the back of his cloak and slammed the shade against the wall.

The man, young and round face, stammered. “What is the meaning of this?”

You narrowed your eyes, “Are you really going to try that with me?”

The man laughed nervously “I don’t-“

“Sir Y/N. Let him go.” A raspy voice broke the tension and you and him both looked at the source. It was an older, plump woman, her thin lips were a bloody red with a clay pipe dangling from them. Her silver hair was pulled into a bun with strands framing her wrinkled face. She had been beautiful once.

She scoffed, deeply unimpressed by both of them.

“Madam, I didn't know-“ the man rushed to speak but she held up a wrinkled hand and he quieted down immediately. He looked more scared of her than he did of you. You eyed him but loosen your grip and the man took off like a shot, out of the cave and your sight.

Madam looked you up and down with her dark eyes, her face impassive. “So this is what Lord and Master Hades sent us to deal with the roaming band of thieves and rapists? A house pet?”

Then she paused, a smirk curling around her pipe. “I forget my manners. I mean Greece’s greatest and most honorable heroes of course.”

“Just me, Madam.” You said, nodding your head. The less knowledge she had on you, the better. You didn’t like that she already knew your name somehow. Or being called a house pet.

She huffed a puff of smoke out. “Follow me.” She turned and didn’t wait for you, her silver hair gleamed in the light.

You hesitated for a moment but this was likely the only real clue you have of Pyrrhus’ whereabouts so you followed.

Very, very reluctantly.

The cave twisted and turned, with curtains for privacy here and there. You ignored the sounds of moaning. You kept your eyes firmly planted on the woman ahead of you.

“I was a young whore when I saw one of your fights, Sir Y/N. Never saw anything like that again. It was over so quickly. Every single one you fought that night.” Madam said thoughtfully. You blinked, trying to place her but you came up with nothing. Not surprising since you barely remembered anything, just trying not to get caught.

Then you grimaced, there was easily several decades between yours and her death.

“Do I want to know how young?”

Madam snorted in a very unladylike way that made you want to smile. “No, you don’t.”

“I thought this village had been untouched by the raids.” You said. “Normally a place is emptied out afterwards.”

Madam asked in front of a wooden door and turned to you. “You’re right. For now, we have been lucky because we have my business here, and plenty of luxuries the others don’t have.”

She took a deep drag on her pipe. “I handle a lot of problems for these fine folks of this town, even before the gods left us to burn in the magma.”

“I’m sorry.”

Madam shrugged. “Gods will do as gods please. I’ve let the men stay here with the promise they will leave this town and my people alone.”

You bit the harsh words of letting raiders stay and just nodded. She saw the look on your face and pointed a finger at you. “It was more than what the gods have done for us. And it meant safety for us.”

You let out a breath, she wasn't wrong. “What changed?”

Madam sighed, “Pyrrhus.”

Which told you everything and nothing at the same time.

Madam turned to the wooden door and pushed it open, and you followed her. You blinked when you saw several warriors chained to the wall, dirty and pissed off.

“You fucking old hag, let us go!” A blonde man ordered and you jerked in shock. You knew that voice. You stared at the blonde man, he was older now with silver in his hair and a thick belly on him.

“Simon, son of Andreas?” You said quietly, and Simon blinked wide eyes at you. There was a beat of silence as the rest of the group worked out who you were. You looked at each of their faces and were dismayed that you recognized all of them.

You knew all of them. All four of these warriors had been under Fathers’ then your leadership during the war and now they were chained up in some whorehouse.

“Simon, Chremon, Gallup, Leon.” You stated, your disappointment clear. All of them winced at your tone. You heard a faint hum of approval from Madam then she stepped out, leaving you alone with them.

“Thank the gods!” Simon cried once the door closed. “Y/N, quick get us out of here.”

“Simon, shut up. He isn’t here to help us.” Chremon snapped at Simon. He glanced at you then at his feet, his jaw tight. Simon blinked at him then glanced at you then he looked toward the other men for support. He found none.

You walked close, just out of kicking range. “What the fuck happened?” It was rare for you to swear but you were at a loss of what else to say.

Of course, weak willed Simon kept talking. “It was Pyrrhus’ fault, we were just doing what we were told to do! He offered gold and whores for days and something else to do besides rot up there In Elysium.”

You pitched the space between your eyes and reminded yourself you couldn’t punch him, not yet anyway. The other men stayed quiet so you looked toward the rest of the group.

“Well?” You asked, dropping your hand back down. They said nothing, their eyes downcast. These were men you had led into battle with death all but a promise yet now they acted like cowards.

You scoffed, “All of you realized that none of you won’t see Elysium ever again? Master Hades personally sent me to handle this. He is not pleased.”

That got their attention and even Simon was quiet. Their faces were grim. Surely they knew it would have caught up with them eventually?

You heard Madam return with another footstep trailing behind her. She rejoined the room, her expression cool. You didn't doubt that she had seen countless power plays, and likely been part of them herself.

“Did they tell you?” She asked you calmly. You shook your head, frustration clear on your face. You needed answers, not this whatever this game was. Madam waved for the other person to come in and you frowned, a growing pit of dread in your stomach.

It was a pretty young man though his beauty was nothing compared to Hypnos’. He had ashy blonde curls that framed his face and pale skin. He was slender in the same way as Hypnos and he bit down on his bottom lip just like Hypnos. His icy blue eyes were almost round as Hypnos’ as he glanced at you then back to Madam.

It was bizarre how similar they were at first glance. He could easily pass for a faint vision of your beloved. But you saw the eyebrows were wrong, the apple of his cheeks not high enough, his nose too sharp and his mouth was locked into a pout, unlike Hypnos’ sweet, cheerful grin.

Nowhere close enough.

“Alex. Tell Sir Y/N what happened.” She ordered. Alex nodded, and you saw in his eyes there was a sharpness that Hypnos thankfully lacked.

“I came in for my shift, and I heard from the girls how rough Pyrrhus was. And that he was looking for a particular type among the girls, innocent and slim with curls.” Alex’ lips twitched ruefully as he waved a hand toward himself. “I went to try to give the girls a break from him since I thought I might suit. And I can handle some rough manhandling.”

Then any amusement he had dropped from his face. He tugged down the top of his chiton, and you saw faint shining light from chest down to his stomach. It had mostly healed but it still looked painfully deep. “That asshole took one look at me, fucked me without paying and kept asking what kill gods- like I would bloody know-than he tried to kill me while I tried to clean myself up.”

You stared at the ugly mark, the words sinking in. In your mind’s eye, you saw torn flesh and golden blood spilling. Of bright eyes dulled.

“He's been acting disturbed the last few days.” Leon spoke up, his voice quiet in his shame.

Gallup laughed, a harsh and barking sound. “Disturbed. Pyrrhus had gone bloody mad is what happened.”

You refocused on them, white-hot blinding rage bubbling in your chest. You stalked over to them, hands tighten into fists. It wasn’t like you attacked a bound man but you wanted to strangle them for following along with whatever mad idea Pyrrhus came up with. They saw the dark look on your face and flinched back, they knew what you could do to a man.

You heard Madam ordered Alex out, to get something. You lost her words among the buzzing in your ears. You stood in front of Gallup and his brown eyes wouldn’t meet yours for a long moment. Not ready to face his old commander. What a fool. All of them.

“Gallup. Look at me.” You ordered, glad you were able to still sound somewhat human. He swallowed thickly and with a stiff upper lip, he met your eyes like a man marching to his death.

“Each of you is going to tell me everything. “ You snarled, your rage poorly hidden. “You will tell me where Pyrrhus is. Then You will answer Lord and Master Hades for your crimes in his domain.”

The more they told you, your rage and dread only grew.

Pyrrhus had gone off the deep end after the fight, the shamed warriors told you. He had started talking of gods and devouring flames and talks of appeasement and honor as he paced endlessly in front of the fire. He spoke of his birthright. Pyrrhus would grab a girl and look at her face before throwing her away to the other men.

Too Ugly. Too Wrong. He would call all of them that. You thought of Alex and his pale curls and your stomach twisted. You didn’t want to know what Pyrrhus had seen.

“He wouldn’t fuck of them now.” Simon said carelessly. “We would have to wait if he had a girl we wanted but after that fight with you and him, he wouldn’t even grope their tits.”

“Afterwards his thing with the boy, Pyrrhus tried to run out, some of the other men got away but we were…” Leon paused. “Busy. And drunk. Before we knew it, we were chained up here.”

“So you don’t have a fucking clue where he is do you?” You said quietly.

“No, commander Y/N.” The old name slipped, unplanned from what you could tell by Leon’ surprised face but you and everyone else ignored it.

“I do.” Madam spoke up.

“Take me to him.” You ordered.

You had told Hypnos war stories eventually but you never really went into depth about it. You didn’t tell him of the villages. Of the crying women and girls as the men were killed. As they were sold off like cattle.

You didn’t tell him how blood carried a smell once enough was spilled or how human organs looked just like animals’, slimy and useless in the dirt. Of being too aware you were made of meat, tendons and bone under metal but you acted like you weren’t a mortal man killing other mortal men.

Sometimes you thought if you could see into time itself, you would be still there on an everlasting battlefield, bloodied and golden. Immortalized by mud and blood.

You used to wonder if Pyrrhus found whatever it was he was looking for on that battlefield. Some ugly part of you knew he never did, never would and was pleased by it.

Hypnos had told you were a good man once. You weren’t strong enough to tell him he was wrong.

There was a period when you were still new at the house where you and Hypnos weren’t exactly friends but he would say you and him were even cold as you were. You didn’t want to admit he was right.

“Did you like being a commander?” Hypnos asked, chewing on an unused quill as Zagreus ran laps.

You should probably tell not to do that, it would make the quill worthless and unable to write. You didn’t. There were plenty of quills tucked away in your desk and a handful on your person. If Hypnos wished to chew on his writing quill so be it, you more than enough for him. At least this one didn't have ink on it.

“No.” You said flatly. A warning.

You heard Zagreus yelled out the number ten, at least he had learned to keep track this time.

Hypnos frowned and you saw the war behind his eyes, to prod for more or to pull back to let you have your space. His nosiness won in the end. He looked you over and crossed his arms, just like you have yours and straightened his back.

“Why?” Hypnos replied in a deeper voice, trying to imitate your flat tone. Your lips twitched and you fought it down from becoming a full smile.

You told yourself you weren’t amused by his copycat behavior. It was childish and unbecoming of a god. Even if there was something boyishly innocent about Hypnos’ beauty.

Zagrues yelled out the number eleven, his voice still clear. You knew by lap nineteen, Zagreus would be panting for air.

You also knew by the pleased glint in those golden eyes, Hypnos thought he won. So you asked him, “Why do you think I didn't like it?”

Hypnos actually scowled at you for a moment and you smirked which only upset him more. Hypnos scoffed loudly, his shoulders relaxing. Then he seemed to stop and think about it.

“I guess I wouldn’t want to be the boss either.” Hypnos said, tapping a finger on his cheek. “Bad enough when they try to give me more stuff to do on top of all the paperwork.”

This time, it was your turn to scowl. “You do understand that I had to actually think beyond my own life? I had men, real breathing people who didn’t want to die. And I had to make sure they didn’t. If they did, it was on me. This was more than paperwork, for us it was life or death.”

Hypnos was quiet and you thought you had shut him up with your sharp words. You watched Zagreus and heard him yell out number fourteen. You saw black footprints in the dirt, already fading away.

You should be glad you finally shut this little god up, to make him see how spoiled he was. You should be happy but a heavy and familiar weight of guilt settled on your chest. You wanted to apologize even though you did nothing wrong. He should know this wasn’t a game for mortals. Lives were ruined over that damn war.

You felt a warm hand brush on your shoulder which made you look at him. Hypnos’ face was solemn and it looked wrong on the cheerful being. You wanted to wipe it away, to bring out the cheerful smile you were getting used to.

Very quietly, Hypnos said. “It wasn’t on you. You weren’t responsible for starting the war. You weren’t even a prince or anyone with real power.”

You sighed but you could say that it wasn’t that simple, Hypnos spoke up again. You saw his wing flutter nervously before laying flat against his curls as Hypnos bit his lip. You hated that you thought it charming.

“I don’t understand the mortals' fear of death. But I guess that is easy for me to say. I have never experienced it, it is just part of the mortal cycle to me and I know all forms of deaths personally so- I’m rambling. I’m sorry for my careless words. I should have been more thoughtful.” Hypnos said then he gave you a small and hopeful grin.

It looked painfully sweet on him.

There was a lot you could say but you didn’t want to talk about the war or the men you failed. Of the hard calls you had to make while you were still a boy. There was a whole list of stuff you didn’t want to talk about.

“You never experienced it?” You asked.

Hypnos shook his head, blinking his wide golden eyes. You had tried to place where you had seen that shade of gold. You suspected if you allowed yourself to get close enough to, you would find every single shade of gold melted into a harmonious hue.

But you won’t. You can’t.

Zagreus yelled out ‘nineteen’, his breathing heavy.

“Good.” You told Hypnos. You were surprised by how much you meant that. “I’m glad you never have.”

What you didn’t say that you hoped he never will.

There was another wooden door just several more paces down. However this one had a deadbolt on it.

Madam paused in front of the door, her eyes met yours. You kept your body loose and face impassive. You already fucked this up once. You won’t do that to Hypnos, not again. If Pyrrhus had gone mad as they said, being reckless would only put Hypnos in harm's way.

“You look calm but don’t think I don’t see that storm brewing in those eyes, Sir y/n.” She said, her pipe dangling from her red lips.

You tipped your head, not disagreeing with her. “If you are worried for your and your workers’ safety, you have nothing to fear. My only job is to bring him and his followers to Lord Hades.”

She didn’t believe you but she undid the lock and stepped to the side. You gave her a nod and pushed the door opened.

It was pitched black and it took your eyes a moment to adjust. The room was small and bare. You stepped in and with the candle light from the hall, you saw the glint of metal scattered on the ground.

Broken chains.

Pyrrhus was gone.

You took a sharp breath, heart pounding as a sharp and bitter fury overtook you. You whirled around causing Madam to take several steps back, fear on her face for the first time as she stared up at you. You loomed and with teeth bared, you spoke softly. Deadly. More beast than man.

“Where is he?”

#wake me from this dreaming #hypnos x male!reader #fanfic #self insert

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owlixx · 1 year

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Kirby Spinoff/Demo Wrap Up

So, I am done with all the mainline pre-switch Kirby games! But after Robobot, I poked my head into some of the later spinoff games and played the demos of the switch games and wanted to share my thoughts on those.

Rainbow Curse

Great art style hampered by playing on gamepad

weird multiplayer that trivializes the core gameplay

I just popped in and bopped Wispy Woods

It's not...bad, but I don't have the itch to play more

Blowout Blast

I tried a level each from the sub-game and the standalone release

Pretty cute and fun, if a bit plain

Standalone game is definitely worth the upgrade with its actual levels and much longer length

The combo system and grading does stress me out a little

I wouldn't mind beating each of these sometime

Battle Royale

Booting this up with no prior knowledge is a baffling experience

I thought this game was 9 different genres before figuring it out

Seems like Blowout Blast with combat at first

Then it seems like top down Smash Bros

Only for it to end up being...a poor man's Mario Party?

Seems like this game should have either leaned into being more of a fighting game with light MOBA elements (like the tutorial also kind of made it seem with highlighted friends/enemies, revives, a mix of small and big enemies)

...or it should have leaned into being a party game and focused on variety and having game boards

I could see myself doing the story mode out of morbid curiosity but I don't think I would immensely enjoy it based on my reaction to the stupid apple collecting minigame

Star Allies

I had played this demo before multiple times, both single player and multi player

This time, what occurred to me was the absurdity of porting Return to Dream Land to Switch FIVE YEARS after releasing a near-identical game on Switch, where the biggest issue is how similar the two games are.

And both games are still 60 dollars! They are literally both games right now as part of Nintendo's special "voucher deal" where you can get two full priced games at a marginally reduced price. FIVE YEARS LATER

For context, 2018 also had such beloved games as Red Dead Redemption 2, Assassin's Creed Odyssey, Spider-Man, and God of War, all of which drop to 10-20 dollars regularly now. Hell, God of War got ported to PC starting at 50 dollars since it was SO OLD and that was over a year ago

30 fps :( Triple Deluxe really spoiled me (I am the first person to ever say that, from what I've seen)

Anyways, its just Return to Dream Land but with the friend system of Super Star (roughly) and ability mixing inspired by Squeak Squad's upgraded sword (rouhgly)

Having 4 helpers makes things too easy, maybe I'd try the story solo if I ever got this

Everyone dunks on Star Allies online so I was expecting to see what they see, and I do, but the game is still a fun Kirby game

After some research however, I am extremely tempted to purchase the game for all the extra modes

Especially Guest Star: the idea of letting you replay an entire Kirby game locked into one power, allowing for 20 something unique playthroughs each with their own best-time is so tempting and I wish every game had it

Plus, it is so cool to see DLC friends from every mainline Kirby now that I get all those references!

This game goes on sale a bit sometimes, so it is now an actual contender to purchase

Super Kirby Clash

I mean, it's not great, but it is cute enough and a decent splitscreen timekiller

I kind of wish that now they'd just patch the game to be a bit less money-grubbing

More free to play games should have flawless splitscreen

Fighters 2

Let me just say: WOW

The gameplay is not super sophisticated, but the polish and sheen are off the charts

Literally Star Allies engine but in 60 fps!

Two player roguelike story mode????

Exclusive copy abilitity?

Unique helper characters???

This game is clearly so much more than a sequel to the sub-game

Hilariously blows Fighters Deluxe out of the water in terms of...everything

Might get this if it ends up being fun splitscreen in the demo

Forgotten Land

Pretty fun demo

Only did the first level on "wild style", waiting to do the whole demo coop

30 fps :(((

Mario Odyssey was 60 fps SIX YEARS AGO

And speaking of, this game I think was expected to be "Kirby Odyssey" or "Kirby Breath of the Wild"

But it doesn't even feel like "Kirby's Mario 64" or "Kirby Ocarina of Time"

It feels more like "Kirby 3D Land"

It seems almost offensive that Kirby is a series with its identity rooted in novelty and unique gimmicks, yet the only 3D games before were a racing game, a minigame (with no copy abliities!), and a minigame collection kind of

Seems like a promising start, but I am not sure I want to drop 60 bucks just for a few more hours of this

Don't get me wrong, its cute and fun and wonderful, but it seems like "A fun Kirby game" and not "the Kirby game to end all Kirby games"

Might be tempted though if the local coop is really good

Dream Buffet

No demo for this one but I've got my eye on it

#kirby #kirby star allies #kirby and the forgotten land #3ds #switch #nintendo #gaming

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syncogon · 5 months

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white and red

tl-remix of no regrets ch 30, part 2 / companion piece to this.

unedited, mostly just to get the brainworms out. i'll turn these (meditations on a general and his prince) into a proper ao3 posting one day eventually, and do more of my own spin on it rather than just a straight tl like this

fic author does an excellent job describing the actor's mannerisms - i can really visualize the scene excellently (or maybe that's just my brainrot speaking...). not quite sure if i can capture it the same way.

Miqin Mubei walked her back to her tent, and said softly, “Thank you for being willing to help.”

“I’m not helping you,” was Zhao Jian’s indifferent reply. “I am helping the people of Liangzhou. They cannot bear the burden of war any longer.”

He was put in an awkward position, but he hid it well with a slight smile. “Yes. This is the crown prince’s will as well.”

“The crown prince’s will? Then what about you?” Zhao Jian retorted. “You only follow Ningling Ge’s wishes. You’ve never had any desire to help them yourself?”

Miqin Mubei blinked a few times. “The crown prince’s will is my own wish. Is there a difference?”

“Then to restart the Song-Xia war, to thrust the ordinary citizens of these two nations into the bitterness of war, this was also Ningling Ge’s will?”

When she brought this up, Miqin Mubei stiffened. “Reigniting war was to strengthen the right wing arm, solidify the crown prince’s power, and fulfill his goal of leading the country in peace.” He spoke in a serious tone, avoiding her gaze. “Compared to such a great cause, temporary sacrifices are nothing!”

“Temporary sacrifice? Do you dare speak these words to Ningling Ge?”

“How do you know that he wouldn’t agree?” he shot back. But he regained control of himself just as quickly, voice returning to normal volume. “But didn’t I already tell you? He has no need to know, and he will not know. His Highness need only serve as the wise, kind, beloved lord of the people. As for the dirty work, I can handle it alone.”

One who kills, one who spares. The white mask and the red mask. Zhao Jian thought of the scenes of their partnership she’d witnessed these past few days, and indeed, it was just as Miqin Mubei said. But it was a one-sided act, Miqin Mubei alone pulling the strings.

“And what of the assassination plot?” Zhao Jian said. “The plan to have the crown prince kill Yuan Hao on his wedding day. You aren’t preparing to tell him, are you? Because you know that there is no way he would agree.”

Something savage flickered across Miqin Mubei’s expression, but in the next instant it was gone. “And why do you say that?” he said, with studied calm.

“I had always thought that Ningling Ge would be, if not cruel, then at least cunning and ruthless—because he has you as his trusted confidant. So I never questioned that he would kill his father to obtain power. But over these past few days, I’ve discovered that he is a genuinely kind and gentle person. How could such a person think of killing his own father?”

“Being kind does not mean that he would not fight back, or that he would not punish evil. You saw, he did not stop me from killing Mozang Heluo or Pochao Gongbu. Yuan Hao’s crimes are far greater than either of them.”

“But Yuan Hao is his father!”

“So what? If a father becomes an obstacle on one’s path, he can be cleared away like any other.” He smiled. “Weren’t you the one to share this principle with me?”

Zhao Jian could hear the blood rushing in her ears. “That is not what I meant!” she snapped. “Only a madman like you would understand it that way! How many more fathers will you help kill?”

Miqin Mubei was unruffled by her outburst. He tilted his head and said, “No matter what, it was you who taught me this.”

It was all Zhao Jian could do to resist reaching for the dagger hidden in her sleeve. If this Miqin Mubei was a monster of her own creation, then it was her responsibility to deal with it. But for now, it was still more important to stabilize Liangzhou. Once the situation was settled, she could decide who to kill first, Yuan Hao or Miqin Mubei.

“In any case,” said Miqin Mubei, ignoring the killing intent radiating off of her, “I will speak to the crown prince, do not worry. As for his wedding, there is no rush, as we still have two months to plan. First we must handle the rebels.”

He reached forward in a natural gesture to take Zhao Jian’s arm, only for her to flinch back. “Don’t touch me!” she snarled.

Miqin Mubei’s hand was left empty, and he gave an awkward smile as he slowly withdrew. “I trust your ability. But… do be careful.”

Those last words were soft, overflowing with gentle affection. And Zhao Jian’s reply was cold and simple: “My life and death has nothing to do with you.”

#young blood #synco talks #synco writes #ding er posting on main again

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crimson-host · 2 years

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Welp, this is my second attempt at writing a one-shot, another RWBY one so yeah, wish me luck

------------------------------

----------Mantle-----------

Brutus Arc trekked through the thick snow tired and exhausted "Oum damn that monster of a man" hearing the snapping of a branch he spun around, grabbing his cane, twisting the curved handle upon which a clicking sound emanated, pulling on the handle revealed a sword hidden within the Cane, Album Mortis, a twin sister to his family's Crocea Mors, he held his blade out with it's sheath to his side at the ready, he scanned the surrounding area, only a thick blanket of snow and trees...until he looked down at a branch he stepped on "sigh dammit, that bastard has me jumpy and paranoid" he slowly returned Album Mortis to it's sheath, twisting the handle once more returning it to it's cane facade, looking around once more he resumed his march through the snow, he knew he was gonna die, but he'd be damned if he died before seeing his beloved family one last time

------Arc Household------

Jaune waited in his bedroom, gitty with anticipation as today it was his 7th birthday, which meant no dress-up for a week!, so naturally the young boy was ecstatic to finally have some free time even if it was just a week

Julius Arc meanwhile waited in the living room, with him was Azure, Saphron, Coral and her twin sister Violette, his remaining three daughters, Bleu, Octavia, and Olive with his wife Juniper in the Kitchen baking and cooking while he and his daughter set the living room up for the birthday for his baby boy, suddenly the door bell ring and Saphron got up "I'll get it!" she ran over and opened the door, seeing a tall man with black hair in a Atlas uniform, beside him was a woman with snow white hair also in a Atlas Uniform "Uncle Ironwood!, Big sis Winter!" Julius walked over as James Ironwood and Winter Schnee walked in, Saphron shutting and locking the door behind them "well well, glad you could make it James" Ironwood looked to his old friend Julius "as am I, almost didn't make it but Winter helped me squeeze in the time" Julius turned to Winter with a smile "thanks for helping Winter, Jaune will be over the moon when he sees you two" Winter blushed ever so softly "it's quite alright Mr. Arc-" Julius held up his hand shaking his head "please, call me Julius or..heh, dad, you and your siblings are just as much my kids are you are Jacques'" this only made Winter blush more, where her father was prim and proper her "Uncle Juli" was downright jolly and rustic, uncaring about decorum or etiquette and preferred getting down to business "a-alright, Mr-I mean! Ahem, Uncle Julius" Julius let out a joyful and light hearted laugh "that's better, tho I do miss Uncle Juli the most" now Winter's face was downright red, Oum above smite her she begged, meanwhile James relaxed and put up his coat on a rack "please refrain from teasing my second in command anymore Julius, any redder and Jaune may mistake her for Rudolph" Winter buried her face into her hands while Julius and James laughed at her expense, Saphron at her sister from another mister on the back, understanding her pain "come on Winter, mom is in the kitchen and will be happy to see you, leave the two dirty old timers to laugh about their war stories and how they didn't have all our fancy toys back in their days" this got a small chuckle out of Winter as she was lead to the kitchen

The party went on with joy, laughs, and much much teasing, the sun begining to get a little low then there was a loud knocking at the door, Julius went to check on it, opening the door the Brutus, who was a little disheveled "brother!" he hugged his older brother as tightly as he could, even if the man was cold to the touch, he didn't flinch away "hey little bro, been...too long" Brutus hugged his dear little brother, knowing this would be the last time he saw him, then he looks over past his little brother to the rest of his family, and the two other guests "come in come in!" Julius rushed Brutus in, shutting the door, Juniper looked to Brutus in shock "B-Brutus is that really you?!" she rushed over "heh, yeah little Juni, it's me" James recognized the name, Brutus was Julius' older brother but the part that confused him the most was his hair, snow white that he could've been mistake for Nichola Schnee's younger brother, Octavia stepped up, the oldest of the Arc siblings "mom, dad, who is this?" Brutus turned to the kids with a soft smile then to Julius "guess you got that large family you always wanted~" Julius and Juniper blushed then Julius cleared his throat "kids, meet your uncle, Brutus, these are my kids" the 8 Arc kids froze then Jaune, Coral and Violette broke the tension "UNCLE!" they all rushed to Brutus and practically tackled the man, getting a bellowing laugh "my my, you three sure are energetic munchkin" Julius laughed with his dear brother "yeah, anyways, these three are Jaune my only son, meanwhile the twins are Coral and Violette" Brutus knelt down and hugged the three "I'm happy to finally meet you all"

The party continued for awhile longer, introduction and small talk, the kids ecstatic to finally meet their Uncle after only hearing a story or two, Winter and James also introduced themselves and talked for a bit before having to leave, and everyone began getting ready for bed "so Brutus, will you be saying?" Brutus looked to Julius with a sorrowful expression "I'm afraid not, I have....business to attend to, so I'll be leaving" Julius was sad his beloved brother had to go, for...who knows how long, it's been 12 years last he saw him, or even heard from him, Jaune came over with one of his scarfs he got from his birthday "Uncle!" Julius and Brutus turned to the little Arc curious "h-here, it's cold outside so wear this, you'll be warm!" Brutus felt his heart throb as his eyes began to tear up, he knelt down and took the scarf "you sure?, it was your birthday present after all" Jaune just smiled and hugged this Uncle "it's okay, you'll need it more than me, I don't want you to caught a cold" Brutus hugged his nephew tightly, softly crying "h-hey don't cry Uncle, I'm sorry if I made you sad!" Brutus let our a chuckle "n-no no little Jaune, it's not like that, I'm...thank you, I love it" he kissed Jaune's forehead "now off to bed...actually, let me give you some gifts" *he took off his flat hat and cane, handing them to Jaune, here, I know it's not much but, I want you to have them" Jaune eyes lit up "really?!" Brutus nodded "yes, the hat is nothing special but my cane, Album Mortis, is very special, but I'll leave you to find out how" he winked then stood up, putting the scarf on as Jaune hugged Brutus one last time before putting the hat on and running off to bed with the cane "brother.." Brutus turned to Julius, seeing the pain in his eyes "my...time as a huntsman is coming to a end, and...I don't have a legend or legacy of my own, so I wanted to have at least one thing be left after I pass...I...I love you Julius" he hugged Julius who hugged back just as tightly "I have always been so proud of you, and I'm sorry I wasn't there for your graduation, your wedding, or there for yours and Juli's kids births, I..I had to go, for yours and everyone's safety, and I'll have to go again, perhaps for good this time, but I want you to know that I love you no matter what, Brutus and Julius to the end" the two brother hugged it out as they both quietly wept for one another

-----Outside of Mantle----

Brutus quietly trekked through the snow, this time without his hat and cane, but the scarf Jaune gifted to him helped, not against the cold, but his guilt, he couldn't be there for his brother, for he took upon himself a curse, a curse that forced them to run from monsters in the shadow, worse than Grimm, but...he doesn't regret it, if he didn't take it someone else would've have to, or worse his little brother, no, Julius deserved to be happy

Eventually he stopped deep into the woods, and waited, the scattered moon rose high in the clear sky, and then he heard them, around him he saw hundreds of grimm, their red eyes piercing through the dark, then he saw him, Tyrian Callows, walking towards him "my my, what a pleasant surprise, here I thought I would have to chase you all over Atlas again, you sure are a slippery one" he let out a twisted giggle "so, why stop running now?" *he leaned forward, seeing something with in Brutus' eyes, conviction "simple Tyrian, I'm tired, tired of running, of hiding, of being in the dark just to keep this power, this curse, out of his hands" Tyrian could hear the hatred and venom in his voice "oh well, if you have anyone to blame, blame her, the Apostate" Tyrian took out his King's Servants and couched down, his tail up "no, I only have myself to blame for being a coward" his eye began to glow a firey blue as the wind picked up around him and a blizzard began to form around the area, but the thing Tyrian respected was not the Winter Bachelor's power, but the zeal of Brutus Arc, the will to fight even if death was certain, he would fight, oh joyous day!

Jaune stirred in his sleep, clinging to his Uncle's cane, unaware of the fact he has been blessed/cursed with a power that would haunt him for the rest of his life, however long that was

------------------------------

Thus ends my second one-shot, bette to get practice in later than never

#rwby #rwby oneshot #rwby fanfiction

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

home from war | sukuna x reader

Home from War | sukuna x reader

featuring: sukuna x reader (historical au) with small moments of megumi x reader

warnings: very mild suggestive content, mentions of manslaughter and slight yandere tendencies + a toxic sukuna + angst + not proofread :D

part two!

How does one soothe their lover who’s come from war?

You ponder about this carefully, eyes dark as you let your gaze travel from the opening door. Sukuna comes in, bare chest littered with cuts caked in mud, blood, and dirt, and you see the way the grip around his katana falters just a little bit. The room is dark – it is late at night, after all, and you had stirred awake in your accidental slumber from waiting too long for him to return home – but you see him under the darkness clearly. Way too clearly.

Those markings on his face you so dearly love don’t even seem threatening. You seriously question your sanity at this point because he is the Ryomen Sukuna; King of Curses. It’s no secret that he does as he pleases, taking someone’s life as if it was second nature to him, claiming territories, wealth, and even people as if they were his own.

You should be scared, and in a way, you are.

But not in that way.

You’re scared because his shoulders slump, those once burning red eyes fluttering close as he drops to his knees on the floor. Without wasting another second, you leap off the bed, your arms wrapping around his figure. He reeks of death, and before you know it, you wash his exhaustion away by peppering his face with the pads of your lips.

Sukuna hums, pulling you closer to him until there is no space between skin, his neck nuzzling in your face. “I’m home,” his lips brush the bare skin of your neck, his breath warm and ticklish. “I made it home to you, my love. Safely like you asked.”

Your heart clenches at his words. Immediately, you bite down your tongue and blink back the tears that threaten to fall. Safely? You want to snap back, your nails almost raking down his back. This is hardly considered “safely” when his knees wobble as you guide him inside the bath, nearly unable to keep his eyes open as you wipe away his cuts and the other remnants of war present on his body.

“I’m sorry,” his voice echoes in the confined walls. You don’t even realize the tears had fallen until his rough, calloused hands brush a tear away. He tilts your chin upwards to look him in the eye, lips trembling when those devilish eyes soften – reserved for you and only for you – and Sukuna sighs through his nose. “I wish I could stop the war, but — ”

“It’s not possible,” you finish for him, forcing a smile to help ease his worries. At this point, you’re conflicted between wanting to scold him to not leave the temple anymore and just stay with you, but you also know why Sukuna doesn’t do that.

It’s because he wants to keep you safe. As long as you were around, Sukuna would go the moon and back just to keep coming back home to you. Perhaps that was the most painful part – the fact that you knew he wouldn’t have done this if he hadn’t met you. Sukuna was the fearsome King of Curses, powerful and undefeated even after a thousand years, but he wasn’t omnipotent. Hundreds of jujutsu sorcerers have lost their lives trying to defeat them, and it took about a hundred more deaths before they backed off at the realization he couldn’t be defeated or exorcised.

Until you came.

You were Sukuna’s weakness, the chink in his armour, his Achilles heel.

The moment it was known that Sukuna kept a lover, they just kept coming. The war begun. Soon enough, your days of rolling around in bed with him, trapped under his arms and weekends spent in whines of each other’s names disappeared.

Sukuna has a temple to defend. A lover to protect. A woman to cherish. A soul to treasure.

It was all because of you, and you know better than anyone else that he was tired. But he’d never tell you that. He would still scoop you in his arms; pull you closer by the hip so he could lay his ears on your chest, eventually falling asleep with the sensation of your fingers massaging his scalp while you hum to soothe him. The sound of your heartbeat has Sukuna exhaling rhythmically minutes later.

The notorious King of Curses, bundled up in the arms of his lover, completely relaxes in the privacy of his shared bedroom with the woman he loves most. It was as if the war didn’t happen at all. He sleeps with a small smile on his face, sleepily mumbling your name and reaching up to kiss your smooth skin every now and then.

It was perfect. It was heaven.

But that wasn’t you.

Because you are not her; you are not even human. You listen to all this on the other side of the temple. If you were anyone else, someone like her, then Sukuna’s intimate moments with his lover would be private – something that would be kept and cherished only between the two of them. But you aren’t human.

You are a curse born from people’s heartbreak and grief. You don’t even remember how you came to life; your first memory hazy of nothing but endless pain and so much anger you lost yourself. Until he came.

Ryomen Sukuna; the King of Curses – he adored you.

Finally, he met his equal. A curse equally as powerful and blinded by darkness, hatred, and bloodlust – you were one of the rare curses whose presence he enjoyed, and it didn’t take long before he invited you to his temple and offered a seat next to him.

You are Ryomen Sukuna’s right hand warrior, his greatest partner when it comes to battle. If he was powerful before, people feared you both even more when you joined powers. He didn’t go to war without you. For days on end, you and Sukuna would traverse villages and slaughter kingdoms to fill the emptiness gaping in your hearts, but he changed when he met her.

That fragile, meak, little human that loved him and changed him.

Because of her, even you are forced to join this war against jujutsu sorcerers. It’s been a long war – consisting of ten days and waning red moons. You and Sukuna barely came out unscathed this time, the Gojo clan seems to have something else under their sleeves, and your yukata had been ripped open in pieces while blood washed over your body like water.

You and Sukuna came back tired, weak, almost defeated.

You lay your back flat against the wall, teeth attacking your bottom lip while you pour potions over your cuts. At the other side of the temple, Sukuna is already fast asleep, safe in the arms of his lover. And you? You couldn’t even let out a small noise of whimper. Sukuna’s heightened senses would pick up on it, mistake that it would be his precious little woman in his sleepy daze, and you don’t want him to be further agitated.

Besides, once he realizes that it was just you, he would only go back to sleep.

Because he knew you didn’t need him, not in that way. You were the Curse born from Heartbreak, possibly the only ever person who would know pain and suffering the same way he did, but that isn’t true. Sukuna wouldn’t understand that this is your suffering – to have him within grasp but out of reach, to know that he was always with you, that he loves you just the same, but not in the way you want him to, not in the way you need him to.

To him, you are his beloved friend and partner in crime.

You are not the one who soothes him when he comes from war. You are not the one that gets to feel his harsh tongue soften at the first contact of your lips, to have the privilege of having rough hands that easily tortured others to be gentle as he dips his hands in the dips and curves of your body. You are not the one who gets to see him when he wakes up and he smiles half-lidded. You are not the one who gets to kiss his pain and wounds away, to wipe his tears from his cheeks because looking at you makes him wonder how lucky he is to have you.

Instead, you are the one he brings to war with. You are the one he trusts to keep her safe, to watch his back and guard all possible blind spots during war. You are the one who jumps in front of him when a blast of fire is on his way, and you are the one who heals his wounds in the battlefield when he grows too weak. You are the one he laughs with when you’ve both decapitated the enemy, growing only stronger with each passing day under the belief maybe both of you could rule the world someday.

But does any of it matter?

You always believed that you were okay with it, that having him trust you with his whole life, enough to have you sleeping under the same roof as him, was everything you needed. But after she came, you watched him fall in love, and you felt pathetic.

You could never have him.

You could never have what they have.

Sometimes you wonder, what if you just said it? In those nights where nothing but the moonlight illuminated both of your blood-stained faces, chests rising up and down as it both rumbled with laughter, discarded glasses of alcohol thrown on the ground – it would’ve been the perfect moment, wouldn’t it?

Though deep down, you knew the answer.

Sukuna wouldn’t love you, couldn’t love you. He wanted someone to protect, not someone to fight wars with. He wanted someone to come home to, not someone he wrecked homes with. He wanted to listen to someone’s dreams and passions – all of the things you didn’t have because you were born out of pain, living in pain, and Sukuna was the only thing that soothed you for a bit.

Your breaths came out raspy as your wounds began to close up. The stench of blood remained on your body, the red liquid drying up.

Sukuna wouldn’t want an impure woman like you. It makes sense he loved her. She was as bright as the sky while you were as dark as day, and when she laughed, she lit up the whole room. You don’t laugh, you don’t even smile. The only times you ever got to feel that sort of happiness was when you were still a fresh-born curse, a wild Sukuna more than glad to teach you of his ways.

It’s okay, you lie to yourself, crawling back to your bed while ridding yourself of your clothes. You would shower later; sleep needed to come first. Curses like you don’t really need, but you were too exhausted – inside and outside – that for once, you want to submit to healing.

As you close your eyes, you hear Sukuna stir in their room again. The sounds of faint lip-locking echo in your ears, making you slap your palms on the sides of your head, but you hear it, you hear it, you hear it, you hear it.

“How is Y/N?” she asks worriedly, her dainty, small, and innocent fingers that could never harm a fly brushing against his skin. Warm.

“She’s fine,” Sukuna rasps tiredly, “She’s a little beaten up, but she’s in a better state than I am,” you hear him kiss her on the forehead, a contended sigh leaving her lips. “She’ll be fine, my love. You know Y/N. She is fierce, brave, and courageous. This war is nothing to her.”

“I still feel bad she joined the war just so both of you could protect me.”

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

“She knows I love you,” Sukuna mumbles on top of her head, his hands tracing patterns on her back. Tears flowed out your eyes, your body trembling as you bit your fist, drool flowing down. You couldn’t stop the way you felt your heart torn to pieces. Really, it shouldn’t be anything new to you. You are a curse manifested from heartbreak, after all, but why did it hurt so much this time? “Y/N is a long time friend and ally of mine. She cherishes everything I cherish.”

“But still...aren’t you going to check up on her? I couldn’t even welcome her back. I haven’t seen you both in days and I...”

“Shhh,” Sukuna lulls her worries. “I’ll check up on her right now, although I don’t think she needs it. She’s a strong warrior, after all.”

“Sukuna,” her voice was laced with warning this time, but it later softens, as it always does. “Even the strongest have their weak moments, like how you are with me. Just because someone is capable of enduring the pain, doesn’t mean they won’t appreciate an act of kindness. Y/N has been loyal to you far longer than I have, but you really need to show your gratitude more to her,” she sighs, “Go check on her, my love. See if she’s doing well. If she’s fully recovered by tomorrow, I’ll head out to the market and prepare you both a lovely meal. It’s the least I could do.”

Sukuna chuckles, “My love, we don’t need to eat.”

“No matter. She likes miso soup, doesn’t she?”

By now, you’re frozen in bed. The blood and dirt and your skin have stained your sheets, and your hair is knotted in tangles from endless fighting. Maybe this is the reason why you hated yourself more than you hate her – because deep down, she isn’t really someone you could hate.

It makes sense Sukuna loves her.

Unlike you, she is kind, caring, gentle and full of love. What did you have? Pent up anger, bloodlust, temperamental tendencies and a hobby of withdrawing as a form of isolation because you couldn’t cope with the heartbreak – this is your gift. Your curse.

She is a blessing.

You hear the bed dip feet away, and whispers of, “Be safe, I’ll wait for you,” before a door slides close. Sukuna’s footsteps pad nearer in your hallway, in a place that he had his servants build just for you years ago when you proved your loyalty to him. Back then, you were over the moon when you saw him telling his people he wanted you to have your own room, but now it was like a huge slap on your face that Sukuna cared for you, but he didn’t want you close to him in the way she was.

Your room was on the other side of the temple, at the back, to be specific. While she stays with him in his own chambers, he used his magic to build her a beautiful garden filled with her favourite flowers, while you were somewhat locked away behind it all.

A bitter smile makes it way to your face. Sukuna was coming, not because he wanted to, but because she asked him to.

You want to laugh. Instead, you run out the room in such speed that the sheets fly away from your bed, and the floorboards crack under the force of your movements. When Sukuna raps his knuckles on your door, asks if he could come in (as if he needed permission for that), and you don’t answer, he takes it upon himself to intrude.

He isn’t surprised at your discarded clothes, or how your room remains dark and empty, as if you’d never been there at all. This isn’t the first time you ran away, and this would not be the first time he ran after you either.

He knows you’ll come home.

After all, it was him you kept coming back to – although he didn’t know that.

Breakfast the next day wasn’t any better. She invited you to join them, fretting over the cuts on your cheeks and dabbing at them with a wet towel. She feels like a doting mother who wouldn’t stop worrying about her child who tripped, and again, you realize why he loves her.

The food was good. Like she promised, miso soup is placed in a bowl you painted years ago, and she beams at you expectantly while Sukuna caressed her thighs under the table. Your lips tremble as you take a spoonful of it, letting the warm soup soothe your exhausted body with a sigh. Sukuna peers at you in the same curiosity, head tilted to the side ever so slightly as if waiting how you’ll react.

It’s no secret you don’t open yourself up to anyone other than him. The moment she came to live with you both, he could tell you locked yourself up in your room and even disappeared for weeks under the lie that you were parading in the districts to “look for some fun.”

Sukuna knows you better than you know yourself. He knows it’s a lie, that you’re not someone who “looks for fun” and that you probably just stayed up in the mountains watching the sunrise. He knows you’re uncomfortable with her displays of affection, of how she easily adored you or how she cared for you like you were her sister or even a friend, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

If anything, he only hopes you would treat her the same way.

You don’t finish your bowl. It’s extremely difficult to enjoy the food when Sukuna compliments her on her cooking skills and she turns beet red beside him, nervously giggling that she just wanted to make you feel better. Sukuna bends down to steal a peck from her lips, teasing her that she was his “sweet angel�� who had a heart of gold.

They don’t even eat.

They’re just giggling, laughing, kissing, and you understand – you really do. It isn’t every day that Sukuna gets to indulge in the presence of his beloved. But only you are there with him. It’s either he trusts you enough to let his guard down, or you’re unimportant enough that he doesn’t care if you see him completely baby her and spoil her rotten with how he grabs her onto his lap and starts kissing her nose and then her eyelids.

Their cheerful laughter is a great contrast to the sound of your heart shattering into pieces. They don’t notice that you’ve excused yourself, heading out the room and into the back part of the house, passing the servants on the way.

Similar to how they treat Sukuna, they quiver and bow before you, making sure to keep their eyes on the floor in fear you’d slice their heads off. You fight back a sigh. You wouldn’t do that – not when they welcomed you so warmly (or rather, fearfully) and accepted you as their master. You realize that they don’t act this way around Sukuna’s lover. In fact, they light up when she’s around and talk to her freely; everyone was just comfortable in her presence.

You know you’re not her.

You could never be her.

She was a human, and you’re nothing but a lonely, heartbroken curse.

Hours pass by, and no one looks for you. You dare not enter the garden Sukuna made for her even if you also like the flowers, simply because you don’t want Sukuna to be appalled at the thought that someone like you – a Curse who’d killed people and tortured others – would also be enamoured with something as innocent as daisies.

The lake is peaceful that night. It’s painful to bathe back at the temple because the servants won’t leave you alone. They insist on washing your body for you and that you should lay back, but you refuse to be coddled. The lake is on the other side of the mountain, deep in the forest with smaller curses lurking, so no one would find you here.

The moon shines down bright on you, and for the first time since you’d gotten home, you smile.

It looks so beautiful. So big and bright, yet so haunting and peaceful with secrets you could never uncover. You stare at it as you take off your robes layer by layer, feet dipping into the cold water before submerging completely. The ripples on the lake illuminated by the moonlight makes it even more soul-stirring.

You cup the water and wash your hair, finally getting rid of the invisible stains from the war. You felt clean, refreshed – but your heart still rumbled with hatred and darkness. Hatred that you couldn’t be good enough, hatred that you’re destined to be lonely and unloved.

One of the good things about bathing at midnight is that no one gets to see your tears when it mixes in with the water, and you throw your head back in laughter with your arms extended to the sky. This is who you are – a Curse with no future and no past.

Later, you choke as a sob begins, your fist clenching above your heart. It hurt everywhere.

You wanted Sukuna – so much that you felt like you were going to go insane.

If it wasn’t for him, you’d be trapped in an endless nightmare. But he saved you, cared for you, made you his equal. So why couldn’t he love you? You’ve always been there for him. When people turned against him or plotted a rebellion, you were the one who snuck into clan houses and slit their throats, making their descendants and followers witness the consequence of disrespecting Sukuna.

When he was nearly exorcised by an overpowered jujutsu sorcerer, you summoned an army of thousand lost souls to defeat them, nearly ending up with you losing your head in the aftermath. It was always you – you were always there from him since the beginning, so why didn’t he love you?

You cupped your eyes with your palms, unable to stop the tears from coming now. Your whole body shook with sobs, turning number and number at the cold water. Nothing mattered, nothing mattered, nothing did if you couldn’t have Sukuna.

“Sukuna,” you cried out, pushing your hair back as the ripples blurred in your tear-stained view. “Sukuna, help me, please...” Put an end to my suffering, you inwardly begged. Death is a better option than watching him fall deeper and deeper for her, knowing that could never be you. He’d never look at you that way. He’d never touch you that way. He would never be your lover, and your sobs grew more desperate because you know you are his lover.

God, you loved him so much more than you hated yourself.

This sort of madness had you gasping for air. Death – death is a better option. It is a much more peaceful way to go than to suffer each waking day to have what you want be explicitly stated to be reserved for anyone else but you.

You froze when a pair of arms encircled your waist, his grip strong and vice-like. He turned you around, his large hand coming at the small of your neck to bring you down to his shoulder where you could hide your tears. Until now, he knows you better than you know yourself, and he knows it would shatter you even more if he saw you crying.

“Y/N,” Sukuna begins, and your eyes widen when you see he’s still wearing his robe. He must’ve jumped in the water. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. What’s wrong?”

Your lips turned blue from the cold. Unable to help the shiver that ran down your spine, your teeth chattered, and Sukuna pulled you closer to the heat of his skin. He sighed worriedly. “You need to tell me what’s wrong, otherwise, I can’t help you.”

“I” You falter. Your heart drums loudly in your chest. He would reject you, break your heart into pieces all over again but – so what if he did? It almost made you laugh. You’re the Curse of Heartbroken Souls. It wouldn’t make a difference if he hurt you now. Instantly, you weaken in his hold, and Sukuna’s hands grip your waist to keep you upright.

“Fuck, Y/N, what’s wrong —”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me,” you repeat, more confidently this time. You pull away from him in the slightest bit, eyes blown wide as you peer up at his appalled ones. His hands squeeze your waist subconsciously, his sharp nails piercing through your skin until it draws blood. It makes you gasp a little, but you’re used to the pain. Right now, you want to be selfish and free yourself from this pain. “I want you to kiss me, Sukuna.”

His eyebrows pinch together. “What the fuck are you saying? I love someone else, you know I won’t —”

“Won’t do what?” You challenge, eyes burning from the intensity and ferocity of each nerve humming to life. “This isn’t who you are, Sukuna. You’re the King of Curses. Or have you already forgotten those days you would accept those female offerings and you’d fuck them until they’re out of their mind, then discard them as if they were nothing but dirty laundry? You were strong back then, majestic, but now you’re fucking weak,” You spat out. You know you’re spurning him on and pushing all his buttons, but somehow saying those words gave you great relief.

Now, it was time to see his patience snap, which shouldn’t take long since his grip had turned bruising on your hips, and he growled under his breath. “Don’t do this, Y/N.”

“You’re the one who shouldn’t do this,” you growl back, “You haven’t been the same ever since that pathetic excuse of a woman came. Don’t you remember that she left her husband and children just because she was a whore for you? Because you pleased her better than her human spouse?” You push him away with enough force that it sends him a few feet back, and Sukuna scowls. “She doesn’t love you! She only stays by your side because she was nothing but a filthy rat before and now you treat her like a queen! She’s nothing but a lowly human who —”

“Enough!”

“ —made you believe you’re someone she could love! Don’t you get it, Sukuna? We’re Curses, she’s a human! She will never understand us! You’re lying to yourself if you believe she doesn’t cry herself to sleep at the thought she’s next to a monster —”

“I said, that’s enough!” In a flash, Sukuna was in front of you, clawed hands wrapped around your neck. It would be so easy for him to break you and kill you right then and there, your feet already above ground and your exposed breasts just within his sight. Nevertheless, you only laugh cruelly at his agitation. “You know nothing,” he squeezed your neck tighter, “about what it’s like to love someone. How dare you say that she does not love me?”

“I know, because if you let me, I could love you a lot more,” you choked out, clawing at his arm, but he is unfazed by your efforts.

Sukuna lets go of you. You drop in the water as you gasp and breathe for air, but Sukuna’s wide eyes bring you back to reality. It’s that face, the one that tells you he’s been unaware this whole time, and the sudden confession drops on him like a cannonball.

Like a switch has been flipped off, you revert back to your normal self. Using your arms to shield your body, you run away from him, about to make it to the bank when his voice stops you. “Do you truly mean it? Do you love me?”

You close your eyes. “Yes. I always have.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You wouldn’t have believed me,” you pull your hair to the side, squeezing the water out. “You barely believe me now, so why believe me if I said it earlier? It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Then why were you calling for me? I heard you crying. You said you wanted me to help you.”

You whip around, tears furiously flowing down. “I’m going to the jujutsu sorcerers myself tomorrow and let them exorcise me. There’s no point to my existence, Sukuna. I’m tired of all the wars. I’m tired of fighting for someone I don’t even care about. I’m tired of loving you and watching you look at her instead of me, when I’m the one who’s always been there for you. I’m tired of —” you hiccup, embarrassed that he was now watching you break down in front of him. You were a powerful curse, dammit, you shouldn’t even be crying about this. “—I’m tired of not being the one you love.”

Sukuna stands there gaping. You don’t give him another chance to speak as you walk away, seemingly a new habit of yours now. You haven’t always been this way. Patience was never one of your strongest points, but being around Sukuna for the past years taught you a thing or two. That all shatters now that you’ve grown tired, the shame of patheticness crawling between your legs as you retrieve your robes, not bothering to dry up.

He exhales through his nose, claws balled into a fist to restrain his anger. Now he wants to be gentle with you the way he is with her?

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic – you keep chanting to yourself. You’re not there yet, but there have already been rumours that you’re the Queen of Curses, the only one who ever managed to be Sukuna’s equal. Although men feared you, they also lusted after you.

How could they not? You were a sexual prowess, and a fearsome figure in the battlefield. Men are confused whether they want to be with you, or if the mere utter of your name had them fainting. Sukuna, on the other hand? He didn’t care. He didn’t notice you. You’re nothing but a war tool to him, his friend and companion during his dark days when he grew bored and would randomly slaughter homes and enslave people.

He’s not the same anymore. The Sukuna you once knew was gone, and you turned back away from him bitterly, the blue flames licking up your skin as a symbol of anger, hatred, but most of all, humiliation.

That night, you didn’t go back to the temple.

And a small, quiet village who’d been loyal to both you and Sukuna had become the victims of your frustration.

The next day, silence echoes in the hallways of the temple. You couldn’t hear even the soft breathings or whispers of the servants. Your ears perk up once you cross the threshold, dropping your bloody katana and releasing your hair from its red tie. The temple servants must’ve already heard that their relatives died the night before – all thanks to your inability to handle your feelings.

It’s okay, you tell yourself, you’ve done this a thousand times before with Sukuna: killing people, enjoying their screams, basking in their surrender and painting the image of hope fading from their eyes into the back of your school.

You’ve done this a thousand times before with Sukuna, but this is the first time you’ve done it alone. You only ever took their lives because Sukuna asked you. Because he assured it was a way to keep gaining strength and to make a name for yourself; that being a powerful Curse was the best feeling in the world and no amount of woman or alcohol felt greater than power.

Sukuna lied.

To him, his heaven was in her arms.

And you? Utterly lost. Broken. With nowhere else to go. As you enter your room, you’re greeted by the sight of a made up bed and cleaned sheets. Even after slaughtering families, your servants still cleaned your room out of fear, and the previous blood from the other day had been wiped away with bleach.

Then, you see yourself from the floor length mirror. White yukata that might as well have been red from the amount of absorbed into the cloth draped over your curves, and your eyes lost what little light it once held. Blood drips from your fingertips and you swipe your thumb over your lip, a small gasp falling to your lips as you recall a little girl, barely five or six winters old, with the exact same lips trembling as she begs you not to kill her parents.

It’s the splitting image of you when you were younger, when you ran around cities unintentionally wreaking havoc out of confusion over your powers. You have no parents. No past. No memory. You just came into existence because of mankind’s grief, and it only made sense you carried that burden more than anyone else.

But you’re not this. You are not a killer. You didn’t enjoy it. You never enjoyed it. Even when Sukuna convinced you that you did, there was no forgetting the fact that you cried yourself to sleep when you were younger at the thought you grew more powerful because you added to the heartbreak of people.

The word heartbreak lights up a bulb in your head. That’s right...you’re the Curse of Heartbreaks – of pain, of grief, of mourning, of suffering.

If you couldn’t have what you want, then why should he? Isn’t it already written in your fate that your destiny is to carry those pain, inflict it onto others, and make them realize they’re wasting their lives believing a lie that love prevails all? That love prevails even someone as irredeemable as Sukuna?

You won’t allow it.

Without wasting another second, you dash to her room. Sukuna’s out to deal with some clan leaders for whatever ritual he wants to perform or out to get more healing potions. The girl never went anywhere else outside the temple because both jujutsu sorcerers and curses are always ready to prance, and she’s smart to not put herself in harm’s way.

But you are harm’s way.

You run so fast through the hallways that you keep bumping into corners, denting the wooden boards and the floor cracking beneath you. You don’t stop until you reach their room, swiping the doors open, and sliding on the doorframe when you see she’s still asleep.

She and Sukuna must’ve stayed up all night performing...activities. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been this weak. She’s a lively and bubbly girl, she wouldn’t have – you freeze in your spot.

Tentatively, you reach over to where she softly snored, tilting her to face you by grabbing her shoulder. She only groans in her slumber before burying herself under the covers. “Sukuna...” her brows furrow as she twitches, probably dreaming about something, and she kicks the covers off with a whine. That’s when you see it. And then you see everything.

A small – barely there – bump on her tummy is half concealed by her lace gown that reveals her skin free from scars, a sign that she’d never really been in battle. But she’s carrying his child, and even though you’re not the one pregnant, you feel bile rise up in your throat.

Your knees wobble and you fall beside their bed, your palms shaky as you place it over her belly. First, you hear a baby cry, and then, a man’s scream.

Sukuna carries his daughter’s form, the little thing bundled up safely in towels while her father coos at her. She’s so small, vulnerable and exposed to the horrors of the world, but she didn’t need to worry about that. Sukuna would protect her, and so would you.

You stand outside the room, a small smile on your face with your arms crossed on your chest. Well, you’ll be damned. You’re not a fan of children and babies in general, but you do admit the infant’s cries sound like music to your ears. It means she’s alive and healthy, and even though her existence is nearly impossible considering her father is a curse, the girl was born perfectly fine and well.

Suddenly, a dark, ominous presence looms over the room. You stand on guard, hands drawing your blade to prepare for whatever or whoever attacked you. You’re not a fan of the kid and or her mother regardless, but Sukuna is left open and vulnerable for attack in this state. He’s too busy fawning over his kid to sense any incoming assault.

However, something doesn’t feel right with this one. That dark, suffocating feeling doesn’t travel. Instead, it’s stagnant and somewhat docile, as if it has no intention to attack, but its threat still remains. It doesn’t even seem like it came from anywhere or it’s about to arrive. Rather...it’s like it was always there to begin with.

Your eyes widen at the realization.

What would happen if a curse...fathered someone else? Would it be human? Or would it be something worse?

You slam the doors open, and everything happens in slow motion. The baby’s mother reaches out to a nearly sobbing Sukuna, eager to see her child, but just as her small, grubby hands wrap around her mother’s pointer finger, it falls. She stops breathing, her arm falling limp, and Sukuna stops cooing. The baby’s cries cease, staring up at her father and extending her small arms to cup his face.

It seems he realized it too, but it was too late.

“Sukuna, don’t!”

The child giggles, her knuckles brushing against her father’s jaw, and the King of Curses lose his grip on her. You watch as they both fall, a garbled scream leaving your lips. The midwife runs to save the child before she’s crushed under Sukuna’s weight, but she too has fallen victim the moment her skin made contact with the baby’s.

No...it’s not even a child or an infant. It’s not even human.

It’s the Curse of Death.

And at her birth, the world would grow dark, darker than what you and Sukuna have already caused the world to be. Her words would sound like a fork scraping against a plate; torturous, excruciatingly painful, and enough to have you begging for death. The simple brush of skin upon skin takes away the energy, power, and life even of the most powerful beings. After all, what is stronger than Death? It was the only absolute truth in the world – which all things must come to an end.

You retract your hand from her body, sweat dripping on your hairline. That thing growing inside her body...it must not be born. Sukuna would die.

With a silent scream, you whip out the dagger and force it upon her stomach. Or at least, you would’ve, if not for the blade that had peaked out your chest and nearly poking Sukuna’s lover’s back. Blood stained the silver blade, leaking into your lap.

You drop your dagger.

“I trusted you,” Sukuna begins calmly, pulling out the sword from your body in one swift movement. He ignores the way you cough out blood, your head shaking as if to deny his words. His face remains expressionless as he wipes your blood on his thigh, dropping the potions to aid her pregnancy beside her on the bed. Sukuna crouches down to your level and pulls you by the hair until he’s close enough that you could see his two other eyes also glare at you. “Have I not made it clear she is to be untouched? Just because you’re unable to handle your petty jealousy, does not give you a goddamn right to kill what’s mine.”

“What grows in her is a monster,” you sneer, struggling against his grip. You’ve forgotten that his sword is imbued with his special curses that would immediately exorcise any weaker Curse, but because you’re on the same level as him, you die slowly, and a lot more painfully.

“That child is mine. It was created out of love.”

“It is not a child!” You argue, “It will be born as the Curse of Death, one that will kill both you and your little lover!”

“And if you’re lying?”

You grit your teeth. “I would never lie to you, Sukuna.”

His brow shots upwards, a smirk creasing his lips. “Is that so?” he shoves you until you slam against the wall. Sukuna treads to you dangerously, his tongue peeking out to swipe at his lips. You know that darkness in his eyes better than most – it’s the look he always wore when he decides to go for the kill. “Then, since you’re always honest to me, tell me this: do you still love me?”

You don’t even think about it.

“Yes. That’s why I’m telling you to get rid of that thing before you and everyone else dies.”

“A concerned little lamb,” he hums in amusement. “That makes it clear then,” Before you could process what happens next, you take your last breath as Sukuna rips out your heart with his claws. It’s not an actual heart, but rather the core of your Curse manifestation and the gem-like object is crushed under his fists. “Queen of Curses, Curse of Heartbreak,” he drops the pieces of your heart into your lap, Sukuna growing more and more blurry in front of you. “Die the same way you came to life: with a terrible, terrible heartbreak.”

Sometimes, you can’t help but feel like you’d been an awful person in your past life. It’s not that you’d ever done anything illegal or rebellious. Your parents are quite proud of your immaculately clean school record, and your grades are even above average. The school’s faculty absolutely adores you for your preppy personality, always volunteering to help others and taking the lead when no one wants to budge.

You suppose you’re quite a role model, but what no one understands is that maybe you’re always going out of your way to be kind with someone because deep down, you have a nagging feeling you’ve once been a terrible person.

Sighing, you wrap your arms around your legs as you hug it to yourself, whacking your forehead in your knees to get rid of those impending thoughts. There’s really no reason behind it, more like an intuition that you’ve forgotten about something important.

You’re pulled out of your trance when warm, soft hands push your hair back, and a pair of even softer lips land at your shoulders. Immediately, you smile, turning your head to peer at the dark-haired beauty that shyly peeks up at you under his long lashes. He keeps peppering kisses all the way up to your neck until you laugh from being ticklish, and it doesn’t take long before Megumi has you smiling again.

He knows you better than you know yourself.

“What’s wrong?” he mumbles on your shoulder, his warm hand drawing comforting circles on your lower back. Again, the simple gesture ignites something within you, something about oddly familiar even if you don’t feel like you’ve experienced it firsthand. “You’ve been deep in thought lately.”

“Lately?”

“Hmm,” he moves up your face, pressing a long, solid kiss at your forehead. It makes you relax and sigh happily, unable to help your urge to crawl into his lap and bury yourself in his arms. “Ever since Itadori enrolled here, you’ve always looked at him...quite weirdly. Is he bothering you? You know if he does something weird, I won’t hesitate to feed him to the Divine Dogs.”

That elicits a laugh from you. Now that you think about it, you’ve been awfully quite ever since Gojo sensei came back with that overly excited kid. You don’t know why, you don’t even realize his presence affects you, but you don’t want Megumi to worry about it when you can’t understand it yourself. So you hug him closer until the scent of fresh laundry wafts your senses, and you brush his scalp tenderly.

Megumi purrs.

“It’s nothing you should worry about, I’m sure I’m just tired from exams.” Unlike Megumi, you’re not a jujutsu sorcerer. You came from a totally human family that lived a totally mundane humane life, unaware that curses exist and people actually die from it. If it wasn’t for Megumi saving you that one time in school when you unknowingly stayed behind the same night the Occult Club did and ran into some freaky monsters, you would continue living without any idea of it.

It wasn’t always easy accepting Megumi’s true identity, but you loved him more than anyone else, and so hiding in his dorms while lying to your parents you were going to sleep over a friend’s house has become somewhat a daily occurrence. You’ve even made friends with the lovely Nobara and Maki senpai who welcomes you with open arms – although maybe it’s because you never fail to bring them food from the city and some fashionable items for Nobara.

Megumi senses your hesitance to talk about it, so he drops it and enjoys the feeling of your skin on him instead, your breaths falling in the same rhythm. Tonight, he and his classmates would go out on a mission again because the idiotic Gojo-sensei was away overseas, and as always, you’d stay up late in Megumi’s room, waiting for him to come back right after he promises you you’ll come back safely.

You close your eyes and wrap yourself around him like a koala, and Megumi laughs at how small you are. He doesn’t brush you off, though. He knows you fear for his life despite the fact you trust him with his abilities, but you can’t help it. It’s only natural to worry about your loved one, after all.

For now, he’ll have to keep cuddling and kissing you for as long as he could before he leaves.

How does one soothe their lover who’s come from battles?

You scramble away from Megumi’s bed the moment you’re waken up by the sound of steady knocks. The first aid kit lays on his study desk, which you swipe with sleepy eyes as his baggy clothes crinkle in your smaller figure. It’s rare that Megumi lets you see his state during after battles, but today, tonight, he allowed you to stay even after his mission.

Your steps are nothing but hurried when you slide the door open, his name about to fall from your lips until you’re greeted by a young man with strawberry blonde hair and black marks on his face. It’s Itadori Yuuji, but at the same time, it’s not him...

His cheerfulness and airheaded self is gone, replaced with a much sinister entity residing within it. The man before you sighs, frowning in distaste at your clothes – your boyfriend’s clothes – before he invites himself in and shuts the door behind him.

Sukuna hums, pulling you closer to him until there is no space between your skin and his, his face nuzzling in your neck. “I’m home,” his lips brush the bare skin of your neck, his breath warm and ticklish. “I made it home to you, my Queen. Safely like you asked.”

“Wha-?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers so quietly you wonder if you heard it at all. “For not believing you, for not seeing you. It took me thousands of years to realize where I fucked it all up, but I know the truth now. And you were right – you were always right. I hope in this life I no longer break your heart in the same way you soothe mine.”

- - - - -

A/N: Sounds like a pretty confusing ending, which it is, and I was gonna leave it at that but because I don’t want anyone to go “HUH?” after reading this, I’m just gonna explain :D Sukuna eventually realized how toxic he was to the reader in her past life, how he convinced her to be a bad person with him then emotionally abandoning her the moment he found his happiness. She was the Curse of Heartbreak, and her powers remained even after she was “exorcised.”

She broke his heart by showing him how he lost everything after her exorcism and his lover’s death (because he also saw the future that the child was the Curse of Death) and all those years of suffering eventually made him realize that the power of heartbreak was the one that destroyed him. So in the present, when the reader was reincarnated as a human girl, he finally found her and tries to make up for his mistakes because she was actually his first love, he just didn’t realize it because both of them were somewhat barbaric and psychotic. Lmk what you think, I hope you liked it!

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mrpenguinpants · 3 years

Text

Spider’s Thread [Reverse AU]

Possessive Red Xiao x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Commissioned for: @profoundwitchsalad

Art Credit: @ruoyeahs

Warning: Unhealthy relationships.

Prompt:

“You’ve ruined my life because I have a warped idea of what love is and I can’t live without you. But now you’re trying to leave me and I won’t allow that. You left me alive. You have a duty to live for me and by me. I’m not letting you go.”

---

Xiao Semi Series

[ Friendship ] [ Falling in Love ] [ Cuddles ] [ Protective ] [ Affection ] [ Jealously ] [ Opposites Attract ] [ String Of Fate (Soulmate) ] [ Fainting ]

Link to original posts: [Red! Xiao.] [Reverse AU]

[Masterlist]

Alatus was once told a story by his Master. A sinner who falls into hell is rewarded for his only good deed, choosing not to kill a spider. As his reward, a thread is lowered down for him to climb out of Hell. In the end, the sinner remains in Hell because he kicks aside others and the thread breaks. Alatus doesn't remember why his Master told him this story but he still empathizes with the sinner. He would have done the same or asked for this 'saviour' to extend their hand down instead. That way he could pull them down.

"Xiao? Are you okay?"

He slowly opens his jade eyes to see you hunch over, peering down above him, eyebrows furrowed together in concern as you reach down and softly tap his temple. He allows you to take a moment to do whatever you want with his face before he reaches up to grasp at your wrist gently, holding back on his want to rub circles into your skin. His reminiscing can wait for now.

"What is it?" he asks curtly, sitting up and resting his elbow on his raised knee. You pout at his curt tone but shrug it off as you take a seat next to him and lean your shoulder against his. You dig into your bag and pull out slips of commission papers and hand it over to him to read through what needed to be done today. A few Hilichurl camps needed to be taken care of, sabotaging a slime balloon, all tasks that seem mundane to someone who fought in a war. As he's preoccupied, you take a moment to look at Xiao's face. He's just the slightest bit unnerved whenever you do this because you always seem to know what's bothering someone.

"Were you dreaming of her again?" you ask quietly. The silence is a good enough answer but you nod understandingly. You never knew his Master personally but you did fight a long strenuous battle against her. From one look you could tell she was a manipulative and cruel woman. While it may not be very kind to say, you were glad that with her passing, Xiao would be free from her physically. But mentally...there were still some things to work out. But Xiao was a very reclusive person, especially with his emotions, so pushing him any further would only make him irritated and closed off.

"Venti and Zhongli are joining our party for a bit if that’s alright. They'll help out a lot with our commissions and travelling. I like Liyue a lot but climbing mountains stresses my shoulders out," you laugh as you change the subject to something less depressing. Standing up as you dust your clothes off before turning to Xiao and holding your hand out for him to take. He stares at it hard for a few moments before huffing and reaching over to clasp your hands together.

It has been so frustratingly peaceful since the war ended. He's not used to it and he can still feel the lick of cutting winds and the heavy pressure of rocks against his body when he sees the bard and funeral parlor consultant just on the horizon. If it were up to him, he wouldn't play nice with these two Archons but they're important to you so he bites his tongue until he tastes blood. He knows the Archons do the same. As soon as the two of them spot you both, Venti is already rushing and tackling you to the ground in his excitement.

"Traveler! I haven't seen you in ages. You need to come and visit Mondstadt more," Venti cried into your shoulder as you awkwardly patted him on his back. Always with the dramatics but you cared about Venti all the same. Xiao scoffed before flicking his jade eyes to meet gold as Zhongli stared down at him cautiously. Since the war ended, everyone seemed to have this warped idea that Alatus had some vendetta against the Gods and Celestia but he was fighting because he was told to.

"Xiao. It's good to see you again," Zhongli said to him. Xiao just nodded in acknowledgement. Even with this new mortal form, Morax never bothered to change his eyes. His gaze alone held the weight of the mountains he had thrown. If Xiao hadn’t been under one of them before, he might have crumbled under the pressure.

"Alright alright, Venti. I promise I'll drop by sometime this month but we still have commissions to do!" you laugh as you haul the bard onto his feet and swat his cape down from the speckles of dirt. He grins cheekily at you, linking pinkies with you to seal your promise, before suddenly lighting up as if he just remembered something.

"Actually! Before we start anything, I need to speak to Mr. Zhongli and Xiao. Super important archon things, you know?" Venti nodded to himself as the two mentioned people stared at him with varying levels of confusion. But Venti just waved their worries off and linked his arms with both men as he dragged them off to a more secluded corner with a surprising amount of strength, “We’ll be right back!”

"Do what you need to do but don't take too long," you called after the trio as you trailed off to the side, messing with your bag of commission papers and gear. Xiao hated that. He knows that these two Archons are your...friends.. but shouldn't you be a bit more cautious? Just because they have mortal forms doesn’t make them human, it doesn’t make him human either.

"Hey, there's no need to look so scary. There really is something important I wanted to talk to the two of you about," Venti speaks up as soon as you're out of earshot. It still gives Xiao whiplash whenever he drops the persona and switches back to Barbatos. "Since Morax is the only Archon I trust with this information and, while I don't trust you one bit, you're the one that's with her all the time you should also know. She's ascending to Celestia."

Barbatos gauges both of their reactions. Morax seems visibly surprised, his eyes slightly widened a fraction, while Xiao has no idea what that means. His Master didn’t exactly give him a history lesson on Celestia or Archons, just pointed to who was his enemy and dealt punishments when he failed.

"And what the hell does that mean?" Xiao asks as he crosses his arms. Venti appears for a second as the bard pouts before continuing.

"It's like I said. A mortal who performs great, heroic feats can ascend to Celestia and achieve godhood. Where they will watch over their people from above. I've only seen this once before so it took me a while to recognize the signs. But 1000 years ago, I helped a woman named Vennessa with her ascension and with the traveler's recent actions with winning the war. Well, you don't need me to explain the rest," Barbatos finishes. Zhongli simply hums as he cups his chin and absorbs what's just been heard. He doesn’t seem troubled by the news at all.

"Have you told her about this?" Zhongli questions as he looks towards the direction that you left. Venti shakes his head. “That would mean that she would vanish from this world."

“I know she loves this world. Whether she wishes to ascend or not isn’t my choice but I want her to continue her travels with that beloved smile on her face. But if she does choose to ascend, she will need our help," Venti stares at the two of them in a mix of pride, sadness, and determination. "Can I count on you two for your help?"

It's a complete white noise in Xiao's ears as his surroundings fade out. He thinks he can see Zhongli nod to Venti wishes, the ever calm smile on his face to match the cheery grin on Venti’s. What, now you want to become a God? Leave this world behind? That’s not funny. You made him give up everything. While in your eyes, your blinded hero syndrome, you think you've liberated him from a soulless conquest but he still has nothing. You still took everything away from him and your only compensation was to have him by your side until he left himself. But now you want to leave without a warning? That’s not fair. You don’t get to take back what you owe. He won't allow you to leave him behind.

“Did something happen? Did Venti say something unnecessary again?” you ask out of the blue. Zhongli and Venti had returned to their respective regions once your commissions were all finished. Since the three of them disappeared to talk Archon business, Xiao had seemed even more tense and aloof than usual. As if he was out of it? You knew that everyone was still suspicious of Xiao and they were angsty to leave you alone with him, but you knew Xiao would never do anything to hurt you. When he doesn't answer, you slowly reach over and you subtly nudge his head up onto your lap and look at him curiously. Before reaching down and cupping his cheek. He leans into your touch before turning his face into your palm and leaving a soft kiss. It makes you giggle at the ticklish feeling as you look at him so softly. It annoys him.

"You were never connected to the war and yet you fought against us anyways. Even when I killed so many people, why did you choose to spare me?" he asked as you blinked at him before giving it some serious thought. He went on a rampage and almost destroyed the world. It was fun. He doesn't have any regrets at all because he hated humanity. His own Master was human after all. But then you appeared and stopped him. A random outsider that wanted to play the hero. He thought it was cute. Perhaps he had underestimated the lengths someone would go to to save the world they loved but when he fell defeated at your feet. He said that this wouldn't change a single thing. He would still scorn humanity and what they did to him. He was so sure he would die there but you chose to extend your hand down to him instead despite what your companions felt. Even when the war ended and he had nowhere else to go, you offered him to travel with you. Nothing changed about his mentality, every person that chose to talk to him was quickly scared away with piercing eyes. Every conversation started would end in silence. Every touch would be met by the tip of his spear. But you would link your hands together with his and smile brightly, and he would always end up forgetting his trauma for a moment. You’ve... become precious to him.

"I love this world and everyone in it. You are a part of that world even if you tried to destroy it. It...didn't seem fair to leave you behind when you've suffered just as much," you finish but it only seemed to spark a wave of deep anger inside of Xiao. He quickly lurched up, almost knocking your forehead with his, before grabbing the scruff of your shirt collar and yanking you forward.

"Cut it out with that "love of everything" crap. It's revolting. So you're saying the people I killed weren't worth avenging? Do you think I'm so weak that I need protection? It's one thing to try and please everyone but at least have some awareness would you?" he snarled as he pushed you to the ground. He knew he was being harsh on you and you had every right to walk out and abandon him but you didn't. Of course, you wouldn't. You needed him as much as he needed you. You just reached over and tenderly reached your hand and placed it next to his. Damn it, why is he always the one stuck worrying about you.

"Then you want to protect me, right? Then don't break your promise. You left me alive which means you have a duty to live for me," he takes your hand in his and squeezes hard. Digging his nails into your own until crescents appear and tiny specks of blood appear so you know he's serious. He doesn't care how you interpret his words, just so long as you never leave him.

"Don't die on me, Hero."

It's been a few hours since the conversation so it's pitch black outside but Xiao was never one to sleep. Even if he could, his mind is too loud to fall asleep too. He's startled when you melt against him fully asleep. Honey smooth as you curl up to his warmth and cling to him like moss to a rock. He can feel his cheeks start to flush as his heart begins to pound against his chest. He can't breathe as his world is filtered through each beat that drums against his ears. He's not sure if there's actually something wrong with him or if it's just been a while since someone got so close and his instincts haven't left.

He's just realized it. He's feeling pain. The feeling in his chest is black but he can't claw it away. It's strange in a way that he can't explain it, that he's never felt before, that he's never felt the need to experience. His life had been warped by battle and a constant push to submit to his Master. They are all things he knows but the gentle words that come from your mouth, the bright eyes that hold the world, the horrible ice-hot feeling inside of him is so foreign yet too easy. He doesn't like it.

It makes him feel...clean in a way. Enlightened perhaps? His Master is long gone and it's like you said. He's free now. Free to make his own decisions and live his life how he wants to. He carefully turns over so as to not startle you away as he really looks at you. You look so peaceful in his arms, eyelids shut without worry, face slack without nightmares, breathing so softly against him. If you weren't so close to him that he couldn't feel the rise of your chest, he wonders if he would think you were dead. He stares at the lock of hair swaying back and forth with each breath like a starved man. The strange feeling doesn't stop. He hates it. It's everything that goes against him and what he knows and everything he should want. He's supposed to be the villain in your story, he should kill you right now-

"Xiao..." he hears you mumble beside him as you lean further into his arm. Damn it. How low is he going to go?

“What are you thinking about now? You just need to think about me. Don’t think about anything else...but me” Xiao sighs before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into him until you're snug against his chest. Close to him, where he can touch you, where you belong. Not with Morax or Barbatos. Not with humans but beside him. He closes his eyes and nuzzles his head into your hair and he stares off into the distance. The feeling never leaves him for the remainder of the night.

"Ah! There you are. I was running around crazy looking for you," he turns his hair to see your flushed form pulling yourself up onto the mountain cliff, "When I woke up I couldn’t find you anywhere! You gave me a scare there."

He hates you. He hates you.

Words of his previous master ring in his ears, almost as if her very soul is wrapping around him as she whispers in his ear how weak he is. Ones with power that refuse to take what they want because they rather live in the comfort of nothing. Be greedier, take what belongs to you.

"Xiao?" you say as his piercing eyes stare directly through you. His Master always told him that she loved him. Even if he hated her he still clung to that false love. Of being wanted. Isn't love for a single person vile? Would feeling such emotions for one person instead of "everyone" bring you down to reality? It's not fair that you've crawled your way into his heart while you walk along in bliss. Now that he thinks about it. It was so simple. He just needs to monopolize your thoughts and love. This time it won't be as friends.

"I love you."

He'll pull you down to where he is. You extended your hand down to hell so it's your fault. He'll drag you down kicking and screaming if he has to. You left him alive. You have to live for him and by him. He's not letting go.

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whimsicallyreading · 3 years

Text

For Rowaelin Month day 17

“A sick day”

CW- PTSD, mentions of violence

Aelin considered herself a fortunate person.

She has survived genocide, her family's murders, losing loved ones, slavery, torture, and the Great War. Now she is a queen, a mother, a beloved Mate.

Her life had changed since those bleak days where she'd wondered if she would ever escape captivity—the days when Aelin didn't know if she would ever be free or find love again. Every morning she woke up curled into Rowan's side, and while she drank her morning tea, Aelin could count on her young daughter snuggling into her lap.

Yes, she was swamped most days, but that was normal for a queen. But even the moments between boring meetings brimmed with life and laughter. Rowan's hand on her thigh beneath the table. Fenrys' theatrics when conversation spiraled off-topic. And even the hardened lords thought it was hilarious when their three-year-old princess barged into councils and demanded her mother's attention.

Her family gathered for dinners at the end of every day. Aelin's little family, Fenrys, Emrys, and Malakai were the regular attendees. Aedion, Lysandra, Elide, and Lorcan joined when they were present. It was a time reserved for family only, and it was by far Aelin's favorite part of the day.

Aelin had a good life now. Her family was growing, and her country thrived beneath her rule.

So it always took her by surprise when a bad day came.

She had woken up fine. Delly had slammed open the chamber door with a gust of wind and squirmed herself between her and Rowan in the early morning. Usually, Aelin treasured the moments when her daughter joined them, but being pregnant again had taken a toll on her sleep.

Rowan tried to stop their child before she entirely collapsed onto Aelin but was a moment too slow. Delly flopped onto her mother's chest in a disarray of wrinkled nightgown and golden curls. Soft sobs were sputtering out of the tiny figure.

I'm sorry. Rowan whispered into her thoughts. He knew how hard pregnancy was on her and took his mate's comfort very seriously. It troubled him that their toddling daughter woke Aelin so abruptly.

Aelin blinks the sleep from her eyes and sends him a happy smile to assure him everything is fine.

"What's wrong, Dell?" Aelin soothes a hand up her baby's quaking form.

Adelia sniffles harder, unable to talk through the tears. She'd started to have bad dreams in recent weeks, but never had she been so inconsolable.

Aelin shifts as Adelia's arms tighten uncomfortably around her bump. Rowan sees her discomfort and reaches around to pull Dell to him instead, but it is met with resistance.

"No," Adelia finally wails. "Mama. I want Mama."

Rowan frowns. Adelia was a daddy's girl to the bone, and this was the first time she'd ever refused to go to him. Their daughter squeezes harder and burrows her face into Aelin's torso.

"Dell," Rowan leans next to her and whispers, a cool breeze brushing against her flushed cheek. "What's wrong little love?"

Adelia lifts her head, and Aelin's heart contracts painfully. Her cheeks are red and swollen from the intensity of her crying, little sobs still stumbling from her chest as Rowan settles her down enough to speak.

"Mama was gone. She was hurt, and she couldn't see me." Dell sniffles, her green eyes glassy. "Can you see me, Mama?"

Aelin tugs her daughter in closer, unable to stand the sight of her so sad. "Yes, of course, I can. I'm right here."

"You were in a box. She wouldn't let me see you," Adelia whimpers in a small voice. "She told me she was gonna keep you. I don't want you to go, Mama."

Aelin's face blanches. It wasn't possible. Her little baby couldn't possibly have seen what was coming to her mind. She looks at Rowan, and his face is pinched with worry.

"It's not real, Dell." Rowan uses a thumb to wipe the tears off her cheek.

Adelia flinches. "Uncle Ress told me it was. He told me Mama had got stollen and put into a box by the bad lady and that she should have stayed there."

Aelin's heart stops. Nausea crawls up her throat, and Rowan tugs Adelia away just in time for her to crawl out of bed and gag into a potted plant. The sickness grips Aelin, the shudders in her arms only growing worse with her daughter's mumbled cries.

"Daddy, I want Mama to stay here." Rowan hushes her and murmurs quiet reassurances. "Don't let her get stollen."

Ress had said that? In front of her daughter? Aelin tries to close her eyes against the visions creeping into her mind. The places her scars used to be ache, and her hands pulse with the remembered pain of reconstruction.

The baby in her womb squirms under its mother's stress, and Aelin throws up again.

She should have stayed there.

Cairn brings the hammer down onto her frail knees, the ringing of cracking bone splits the air.

She should have stayed there.

Aelin opens her eyes to endless darkness. Sweet smoke wafts through invisible holes and sends her to sleep- leaving her mind vulnerable to Maeve's manipulations.

She should have stayed there.

More and more memories swarm behind her eyelids until a pair of grounding arms wrap around her shoulders.

"Fireheart, you are home. You are safe. Can you breathe with me?" Rowan sighs loudly behind her shoulder, and Aelin tries to force her own breath out.

Breathing in is harder, but Rowan's scent fills her nose and loosens the binds on her lungs. Soon, Aelin is doing the exercises independently, and Rowan nuzzles his face into her neck. His hands snake under her bump and lift some of the pressure, easing more of her tension.

"There you are," Rowan kisses her cheek as Aelin comes back around. "Are you okay?"

Aelin shakes her head and sinks into his arms. "Can you take me back to bed?"

Her legs feel like jelly, and her stomach is weak from turning. Rowan lifts her with ease. His arms are warm, and he murmurs sweet nothings into her ear as he carries his mate back to their bed.

"Adelia?" Aelin looks around for their daughter.

Rowan pulls back the duvet and reveals the sleepy from nestled right into the middle of the pillows. "She fell back asleep quickly."

"I can't believe Ress told her those things," Aelin can feel a tear slipping down her face. Ress had never forgiven her for her days as Celaena. Darrow had grown to accept her, but Ress never warmed up to having Aelin as his queen despite her efforts.

She hadn't realized the extent his hatred went.

Rowan scowls as he lays Aelin down next to their daughter. "Ress is young and foolish. I have forgiven a lot of his hostility and ignored most of his juvenile antics, but Aelin, I can't forgive this."

"He should never have said those things to Dell." Ress's words linger in her head. She tried to do right by her title and live up to her parent's legacy. Aelin took a lot of pride in listening to the demands of her people and tending to their problems personally. But the odds of Ress being the only one to feel this way are slim. Did they wish she'd never returned? Was she arrogant to take the crown just because it was her inheritance? She'd never had the formal training as ruler and relied a lot on Rowan to help manage foreign affairs. Despite the loss of her fire, many still feared her and considered her a murderer. No matter how hard she tried, Aelin's history as Adarlan's Assassin proceeded her.

Tears burn Aelin's eyes, and Rowan's scowl deepens. "He should have never spoken of you like that at all."

Aelin shakes her head, "It's his right to think what he wants. Maybe he has a point."

"No." Rowan growls, and Dell flinches in her sleep. Taking a deep breath, Rowan softens his voice. "He's wrong, Aelin. Ress was wrong to scare Dell, and he has no right to demean everything you've sacrificed. You've suffered for your people."

"I closed the lock because I had to Rowan," Aelin argues. "That doesn't automatically make me a good queen. What if I'm failing?"

Rowan pulls their duvet up to Aelin's chin, and Dell instinctively snuggles to her mother's side. Her daughter was a leach for warmth, and Aelin could feel her remaining flames writhing in her veins agitated.

"You are a wonderful ruler, Fireheart." Rowan bends down and kisses her lips reverently. "I've met my fair share of emperors, kings, and queens. None of them have given up so much to better the lives of their people. They care for you in return."

Rowan steps away from the bed, and Aelin makes a displeased noise. "Where are you going so early in the morning."

"I'm awake now. I feel like a flight through Oakwald. Go to sleep, and when you wake up, I'll bring my females breakfast," Rowan pulls on a plain white tunic. "Sleep, love. You both need your rest."

Rowan can read her too well. Aelin can feel her eyes drooping despite how much she wants to deny it. "Very well, but there better be tea and pastries."

As Aelin drifts back to sleep, she swears that a mischievous smile passes across her mate's face.

~~~

"Aelin," Maeve twirls a lock of blonde hair in her fingers. "Where are the keys?"

Cairn twists the blade in her thigh again, and Aelin screams, "screw yourself."

Aelin writhes beneath the pain and the dark queen's gaze. Her torturer goes to twist the blade again, but Maeve holds up a hand. "Wait. There is a smarter way to go about this."

"I won't tell you anything," Aelin gasps, the blood seeping from her thigh pools onto the table. "There is nothing you can do."

"Not even to spare the princess?" Maeve smiles as the cell door opens. Connall walks into the room, a squirming girl in his arms.

"Let me go," the girl screams, and the air in the room turns frigid. Her blonde hair whips around as she twists and fights. The little girl's head turns, and she freezes when she catches sight of Aelin. "Mama?"

"Adelia?" Aelin asks, confused. "You can't be here. You aren't supposed to be here." With renewed energy, Aelin thrashes against her bonds and bares her teeth at Maeve.

Maeve takes Adelia from Connall and strokes her hair. "Such a pretty one."

"This isn't real," Aelin hisses. "I wasn't pregnant when you took me. Adelia was born in Terresan."

Maeve hums a sympathetic note, "It seems you're confused." Aelin fights as the dark queen sits with a frozen Adelia in her lap. "Begin again, Cairn."

A hot iron is lain against Aelin's neck, and Adelia's screams rattle the stone chamber.

~~~

Aelin wakes with a gasp. Her chest is seizing in uncontrollable fits, and little hands cup the sides of her face.

"Mama?" Adelia's concerned face hovers over Aelin's. "Why are you crying?"

Relief washes over her at the sight of her daughter, safe and sound. She tries to take deeper breaths, but her body fights against her. The baby in her womb squirms uncomfortably. Aelin feels guilt that they are so subject to her moods. She tries to open her mouth to speak, consol her frightened daughter, but Aelin can't get any words out.

"Daddy!" Dell screams, frightened tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

Rowan bursts through the door, "Dell?"

Adelia sniffles and kisses Aelin's face sadly, "Daddy, what's wrong with Mama?"

Aelin grabs at her chest, trying to ease the tightness there. She was scaring her daughter. What kind of mother would do that? Rowan sits beside her, and a cool wind goes up her nose and fills her lungs.

"Fireheart," Rowan lifts Adelia and sits beside her. "Is this a sick day?"

It was the code they'd come up with for the days when the past came back to haunt them. When the turmoil in their mind forces their bodies to rebel, and they can't seem to put on their usual facades. It used to shame Aelin, the days she couldn't rise from bed and do her duty. But her mate's unwavering love soon cracked that lie and eased her burden. Rowan had convincing arguments. Aelin's people needed their queen at her best, and on sick days, she wasn't able to give that to them. Their court was strong. They wouldn't allow Terresan to fall while she recovered. Aelin deserved time to heal.

Rowan must have been able to tell that she wouldn't be able to settle herself this time as his winds continued their push and pull in her chest. "Yes," she rasps dejectedly.

Dell buries her face into Rowan's shoulder. Her mate rests a hand on the side of her face and soothes her cheek. "To whatever end, Aelin. We will get through this just as we do everything else."

Rowan kisses the side of Dell's face. "Little love, do you think you can go to the kitchens and have someone bring Mama tea?"

That fae instinct to fuss rears its head in their child. Adelia perks up at the opportunity to do something useful. "Yes!"

Rowan sets her on the floor, and she takes off in a blur of untamed hair and swishing skirts. They wince as a gust of wind slams the doors of their chambers against the wall.

"She's a handful," Rowan talks, aware of the soothing effect his voice has on her. "But we always knew our children would be. I can't wait to see what kind of chaos our son brings into our lives."

Aelin wraps her arms around him as the remnants of her dreams finally fade away. "You think it's a boy?"

"I know so," Rowan pinches her side, and Aelin smiles. He'd also been confident that their first child would be a girl. His smugness after Adelia's birth was unbearable.

"Rowan," Aelin whispers. "Can we just lay here today?"

"I could never deny you anything," Rowan leans against their headboard and kicks off his shoes. "You don't need to ask, Aelin. It's okay to take time for yourself."

"What if I'm just proving Ress right?" The insecurity slips from her lips before she can stop them. "What if there is someone more capable?"

"Ress won't be a problem anymore," Rowan rests a hand against her bump, and the baby withing kicks at it, bringing a smile to his face.

Aelin narrows her eyes, "What have you done?"

"Nothing that anyone will blame me for," Rowan assures. "He would be in a lot more trouble if the rest of the court learned what he said in front of Dell. Ress should be grateful I didn't do a lot worse."

Aelin sighs, "I don't understand why I can't just let it all go. Why do I allow myself to be so haunted?"

"It's not that simple," Rowan shakes his head. "I'm hundreds of years old, and no matter how many years pass, there are things from my past that haven't healed. The mind is different from the body, and sometimes it takes longer for it to recover. There is nothing wrong with that. You gave up everything for the people you loved."

"Because I had to," Aelin contradicts.

A hardness comes over Rowan, "because no one else could."

Rowan rolls over her body into a plank and looks deep into her eyes. "No one else that day would have made the same sacrifices out of love. Not even me. I was too selfish to let you go. You gave up everything, and by the strength in your soul, you came home to me. In all my decades, I have never met someone so remarkable, and I never will again. Take as many years as you need to recover, Aelin. This world owes a debt to you, and I will make sure it pays. You deserve every happiness."

His hand threads through one of hers and drags it up to rest on the bump between them.

Happiness.

Dell darts back into their room, a cup of tea sloshing in her hands as she runs. "Daddy, I put extra sugar in it. Uncle Fen is coming with more cups, but I made this one special."

Rowan pulls away from her, and the laughter on his face is contagious.

Aelin smiles and accepts the tea from Dell's hands. She even manages a few sips without cringing from the sweetness. Fenrys follows behind her shortly and sets a fresh cup covertly on her bedside table.

There may be hard days, Aelin realizes as her family gathers around her, but the love they showed her every day made it all worth it.

#throne of glass #rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #fanfic #tog #angst #rowan x aelin #ptsd #sick day #baby fic #canon #sjm #sjmaas

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parvulous-writings · 3 years

Text

Stars //Sith!Obi-Wan x Pregnant!Reader

Request: Heya! First of all, I just want to say, wow!!! I loved wvry word of the Vader x Reader you did, and reading your notes, I really don't mind it as an AU! I've never really read anything to do with Sith Obi-Wan before, though to be fair I only just got into Star Wars again 😅 This isn't really a request, but from what I can see from your posts, you seem to really like Obi-Wan, well, Ewan Mcgregor in general 😂I wanted to ask if you could write another x Reader, but this time a Sith Obi-Wan AU?Thanks for reading! -Red ❤ p.s, @rey-is-not-a-skywalker, you're welcome for requesting the sith x reader, I guess you're obsessed as I am 😂 p.s the second, I'm loving the new pfp!

Requested by: Red

Summary: The reader has some news for Sith Lord Obi-Wan Kenobi

Warnings: The reader is AFAB, pregnancy

Words: 1.7K

Notes: You would be correct in assuming I love Obi-Wan and Ewan McGregor as a whole. Also I’m glad you like the new pfp! I am also in love with it! :) Did I self indulge with this oneshot? I think you know the answer. Leave me alone, I am too much of a simp at this point. I have never been pregnant, so some of this may be inaccurate.

Not my gif

An old Jedi’s fall from grace was a never a pretty sight to see, it was no glorious tale to tell from any side. It was full of hurt, pain, hatred, suffering. This was more than true for the fallen Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. His downfall was the least expected out of those who turned away from the light, he had always been the most loyal of men, the most faithful of soldiers. Perhaps, in part at least, this was what drove him away from his original allegiance. He was an exceptional leader of course, the most fantastic of generals, but besides that, in the larger picture, to the Jedi Order as a whole he was nothing more than a faceless defender of the galaxy. Just another of the tens of thousands Jedi. Another factor that led to the man’s path to the dark side, was you. What you made him feel. The passion, the love. An indescribable feeling, all he could say about it was that it was truly wonderful. He did not mind the fear, or the hatred that came with it, for you made it all worth it. The massive highs compared to the lows outweighed them greatly, and thus he gave it all for and to you. His passion, his loyalty, his love. Everything he had, every fiber of his being, he gave it all to you. If he could turn the worlds on theirs heads, and you gave the word, he’d do it.

You had initially been shocked at the man’s sudden change of life-plans and of loyalty. Though, the more you thought about it, the more you began to convince yourself, perhaps he had made the right choice. He wasn’t so uptight in regards to public affection now- he’d often smother you with kisses in front of company, or hold your arm or hand as you wander about in cities or halls. Despite the Sith being the darker beings of the Force, the life you now lived was almost... Peaceful. After a while, you very much enjoyed it. There weren’t so many rules now, and you both felt free. Though, not everything about your new life was free or peaceful. There were times that Obi-Wan was pulled away from you much like in the way he was during the times of the Republic and the Jedi Order. He’d be wrenched from your embrace for weeks or months at a time, and the holocom conversations you shared were not the same as actual conversations. The comforting presence you both gave to one another were missing, and it was painfully obvious to the pair of you.

One particular night, whilst Obi-Wan had been away, you were staring out at the stars- each of them twinkling from their position on the blanket of the night from their positions thousands of light-years away. They fascinated you every night, though you knew some of the planetary systems by name and had visited a few yourself, you couldn’t help but imagine what could be hiding away on them, what could be awaiting discovery. They also distracted you from something plaguing your mind on this particular night, something you needed to get off of your chest. It had been bothering you more and more over the last few days, ever since you had made the discovery.

You are brought from your train of thought by the bleeping of your comm. You move leisurely to answer it, there was only one person who could be calling you at this time of night, but you knew he wouldn’t mind you taking a moment longer than usual. You answer your lover’s call, and a murmur on the other end of the line hushes- he must have been talking to someone as he awaited your answer. “Ah, my beloved.. I thought you had fallen asleep.” He mused quietly, his smug expression clear even through the blue hologram, and you can’t help but chuckle at him. “No. I was looking out at the stars,” You tell him, plainly. Sunsets and night skies held a special place in both of your hearts; you had spent many nights on Coruscant looking out at them, telling each other the wishes you had made on shooting stars that you rarely saw. You heard Obi-Wan sighed quietly. He knew your habits when he was away, and what they meant. “I should be returning soon, my dear.” He assured you, lowering his voice to nothing more than a whisper. “I am trying to get this done, you know, but it’s not as easy as-” “I know, I know.” You cut him off, wrapping your arms around yourself, looking down at the floor. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Obi-Wan’s brows furrows, clearly he’s noticed your odd behaviour.

“Something’s bothering you.” Obi-Wan notes, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his long robe. “Tell me,” He demanded. Though his tone was soft, it was still very much a command. You start to shake your head at him. “I would rather not... Not over the comm.” You start, looking over to his projection. He looks even more concerned than before- partially because you disobeyed an order from him, and partially because you were willingly withholding information from him. You never did either of those things, not with him. You were both in balance, and trusted each other completely. He knew this had to be incredibly serious for you to say something like this. “Then I shall return immediately.” He no longer cared for his assignment; he would much prefer that he knew you were safe and out of harm’s way. You start to shake your head more frantically. “No, Kenobi- you must finish the task the Emperor has given you, he-” “Can wait.” Obi-Wan finished abruptly. You could tell from the way he stood and held himself- chest out, shoulders back, spine rigid and straight- that he could not be swayed on this. “He can wait.” He repeated, wanting the words to sink in, for you more than himself. “I will be returning, whether you agree with me or not. I will be back by the morning.” And with that, those final harsh words, he ended the call. You sighed quietly, running your hands over your face in exasperation and stress. You hadn’t wanted to pull your lover away from the mission he had been given, you had wanted to wait just a few more days till he returned as had been planned. You sighed deeply, moving away from the comm, heading towards bed as you strip off your clothes. You nestle under the covers, wrapping your arms around yourself for some comfort.

By morning, you were well rested. As your eyes started to crack and flutter open, you became acutely aware of the arm around your waist, and the head buried into the back of your neck. You shuffle slightly to look over your shoulder, smiling slightly at the peaceful expression on the face of the sleeping man behind you. By rights, you didn’t even have to turn over to know that it was Obi-Wan, you knew the feel of his aura and his touch. Still, it provided a sense of comfort, knowing with more certainty that it was him. You shuffle round to face him fully, brushing some of his auburn locks away from his closed eyes. His nose scrunches ever so slightly at the contact; and he too starts to wake up. It’s a slow process for him, and always had been. Even during his time serving the Order; though your mornings together were few and far between, you had noticed this little pattern of his. His eyes crack open like yours had done, and a drowsy smile moves over his lips. “Good morning, darling...” He yawned softly, before pressing a gentle kiss to your jaw. “You look stunning...” He told you, his lips still pressed against your skin as he gave you the compliment- no doubt the first of many that morning. “You flatter me, Obi..” You murmur in reply, and presses kiss after feather-light kiss over your jaw and neck. “I speak only the truth for you, my love...” He trailed off for a moment, as he started to push himself up onto his elbows. “Now... Onto business...” He mused, “You still need to tell me what’s bothering you.” He pointed out, and he was right, as he often was. “So, I would start talking, my dear.”

Though his demeanour is playful, you know you shouldn’t argue this time around. You sit up, leaning against your pillows as your try to think of how to start talking about your recent discovery- despite it’s wonderful connotations, it was not as easy as one might think. “Obi...” You begin. “Darling.” He replied, hardly missing a beat. “I have some... Rather pleasing news.” He nods, prompting you to continue. “You... Are going to be a father.” It takes him a moment to actually register your words, for their meaning to sink in. He practically tackles you back into the bed when it clicks somewhere in his mind, the widest smile on his face. He’s laughing breathlessly, hardly able to believe the news or contain his excitement because of it. “Is it so?” He asked, his hand splaying over your stomach as he spoke. “My, my...” He mumbled- and it was moments like this that showed how much he had changed from his old ways. Had you given such news to him whilst he was still a Jedi- he would have panicked at first, asked if you wished to keep the child, and if you had done he would have likely asked you to leave to a slightly more rural planetary system. He had no fear now, and so didn’t need to ask you. He accepts it with ease in these times, and is more than happy to receive such news. He had no fear in rearing a child now, so long as you wished for it too. He paused as this thought washed over him, then gave you a curious look. “Are we... Keeping the child?” He asked, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “I think we could be wonderful parents... If you’re not away so much.” You poke your finger into his chest. “Alright... I will discuss it...” He mused, resting his head near you abdomen, gazing at it in wonder. He could hardly believe that your child- the fruits of both of you- was growing there, and he was more than just excited to meet his child. He pulled you close again, whispering sweet nothings and reassurances as the morning wound on, till you eventually fell asleep again in his arms, comforted by his presence.

#sith x reader #star wars sith #kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi #kenobi #obi wan x reader #obi wan imagine #sith obi wan #sith obi wan x reader

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spectral-musette · 3 years

Text

She touched his face, fingertips light along his temple, nails delicately scraping through the short beard on his cheeks, lingering on the cleft in his chin before resting on his mouth.

“I thought…” she began, but then choked on a soft sob as the tears began to run down her cheeks.

“I thought you would be angry,” he said instead, nuzzling his cheek against her hand and then kissing the palm.

“I am furious,” she assured him, tenderly. “I am incandescent with rage.” Her lips were against his, her breath uneven in his mouth.

Directly following the Deception arc (Clone Wars Season 4 episodes 15-18), Obi-Wan asks for Satine's forgiveness for letting her believe he was dead.

Just over 2000 words, M in AO3-style rating, probably part of a longer work if I can ever finish it and think of a title.

. . . . . . . . . .

Obi-Wan had not protested very much when Padme offered him the use of her family’s lakeside retreat in the aftermath of the attempted abduction of the Chancellor on Naboo. He had, however, expected a slightly more modest structure than the sprawling villa he’d found upon his arrival. Despite the droids on staff, the place seemed empty, hollow, as though it still echoed with the voices and laughter of a happy family. So fresh from his undercover work, he wasn’t sure isolation was the best remedy for his rumpled spirits after the ordeal, but arrangements had been made, and he supposed he could make the best of it for a few days.

In some ways, he was eager to leave Naboo. The memory of Qui-Gon’s death still cut like a keen-edged blade here. But perhaps that meant he should stay, to meditate on his old grief.

Painful as that prospect was, at least it sounded more surmountable than returning to a Temple that had been mourning him.

He’d have to, eventually. Anakin’s (justified) expression of betrayal and Ahsoka’s wounded demeanor still stung, and he didn’t look forward to repeating these painful scenes with other dear friends, with Luminara, or with Quinlan. But until the GAR red tape was untangled (at least a few days), he was still officially dead, and granted all the freedom of a wandering ghost.

He felt a little like the ghost of his old self after a quick swim as he climbed out of the lake onto the patio by the house. He sat heavily on the flagstones, still warm from the sun even as the stars were coming out. The constellations of Naboo seemed startlingly familiar considering the few times he’d seen them. The span of nearly 15 years felt short tonight. Perhaps it was the mere stubble of hair on his skull, shorter even than a padawan’s. Perhaps it was the ache of his old Master’s absence. He tried to ground himself in the present; as he toweled off his wet limbs, the ugly burn scars from his duel with Count Dooku shone pale in the moonlight, and his face still hurt from the dreadful biotech that had transformed him into the Mandalorian marksman.

It was always Mandalorians, wasn’t it? Proof that the Force possessed a sense of dramatic irony that the brethren of the woman to whom he’d lost his heart seemed to continually haunt him.

The guilt of it weighed like a stone on his chest. The mission had dragged on far too long for Satine not to have heard news of his apparent death. He had hoped it might all be resolved before… Well, it had been an unlikely hope, anyway. Padme almost certainly told her immediately.

There hadn’t been anything for it. To ask for permission to tell Satine the truth before the charade would’ve been tantamount to confessing his feelings for her. Had there only been the censure of the Council involved it might’ve been one thing, but any careless word to the Chancellor’s staff could’ve proven disastrous for Satine and the gossamer-fine line she walked to keep peace and authority on Mandalore. He’d been keeping her safe even as he wounded her.

Just like the old days, pulling her out of harm's way, or shielding her with his body.

Only this wasn’t an accidentally scraped knee or bruised arm. Perhaps it was vain of him to assume, but he knew how deeply she cared for him, how intense her feelings ran…

He’d tried composing a message to her so many times. Even still in the guise of Rako Hardeen, when he caught a moment’s rest, he’d gone over it in his mind, lulling himself into an uneasy sleep as he tried to find the words to ask her forgiveness.

In the end, a forthright Forgive me, was the best he could muster, hastily sent to her private channel as soon as he’d gotten access to a comm unit at the conclusion of the charade. If you’ll listen, I’ll try to explain, but nothing will excuse what I’ve put you through. Know that I am so very sorry.

She hadn’t replied. He checked the comm unit again as he pulled his undertunic over his head, the rough linen soaking up the last of the lake water on his back, seeing only his own message, stark and insufficient.

He didn’t blame her, truly.

He’d slept since sending it, through the afternoon, reveling a little in the luxury of resting when he felt tired, regardless of the local daytime cycles. And he dreamed in disjointed flashes, mostly of her… her grief, her melancholy, her ire… of the glint of tears on her dark gold eyelashes, the quaver of anger in her beloved voice.

He wasn’t sure if he ought to just sleep again, now that night was here. Weary as he was, he felt he could sleep for days.

He heard the door from the house to the patio open. He didn’t look immediately, as it seemed likely to be one of Padme’s droid caretakers, there to ask if he required food or clean linens. But there was no whirring of servos, and the footsteps on the flagstones sounded too soft. He caught a whiff of an achingly familiar floral scent just as he turned.

She must’ve been too much in his thoughts already, his mind too clouded with guilt and regret and weariness to clearly sense her presence.

But Satine stood, silhouetted by the dim illumination of the house, resplendent in the scarlet gown she’d worn the night they’d met in secret on Coruscant, though her hair was loose about her shoulders, pale and shimmering in the moonlight. For a moment she was utterly still, then she merely raised a hand to her mouth, stifling a soft gasp.

He scrambled to his feet, keenly aware that this was not the state in which he wished to appear before his lady. His trousers were still sopping, his undertunic open to the navel, and his hair had barely grown in longer than the stubble on his jaw. But her eyes were only on his, and shining with tears. She took a few steps towards him, then swayed a little. He lunged to catch her around the waist; the last thing she needed on top of all the rest of the suffering he’d caused her was bruised knees. She twined her arms around his neck, and his knees gave a slow surrender too, such that the pair of them sank to the flagstones, wrapped in each other’s arms.

She touched his face, fingertips light along his temple, nails delicately scraping through the short beard on his cheeks, lingering on the cleft in his chin before resting on his mouth.

“I thought…” she began, but then choked on a soft sob as the tears began to run down her cheeks.

“I thought you would be angry,” he said instead, nuzzling his cheek against her hand and then kissing the palm.

“I am furious,” she assured him, tenderly. “I am incandescent with rage.” Her lips were against his, her breath uneven in his mouth.

He tasted it in her kiss, a fleeting note of bitterness and sorrow amid the heady sweetness of her relief and joy, the fire of her desire.

“I am so very sorry,” he repeated, abject.

“Oh, I hope so,” she replied, breathless.

As usual, Satine had the last word, as neither of them could speak for some time after that.

. . . . . . . . . .

She lay on her side, half propped up on her elbow, her head against the pillow and her hair spread across it in a tangle of pale spun gold. The bedclothes were pooled around her waist, and he deeply felt the intimacy and vulnerability they shared in that moment. He thought this image of her would be vivid in his mind for the rest of his days, however long that might be: the pale morning light on her bare skin, her flushed cheeks, the glint of unshed tears in her eyes, the soft swell of her breasts with her sharp, uneven breaths as she tried not to cry again.

Finished with his abridged account of the awful ordeal, he reached out to run the backs of his fingers along her arm.

“Say something,” he begged.

She sat up a little more, her hair falling across her face as she wrapped her arms around herself and turned away from him.

“It might be… easier to accept, if you’d done it for the sake of someone … worthy of all this pain. To protect Anakin or Ahsoka or Padme or…”

“Satine, I can’t decline a mission to protect the Chancellor simply because I dislike the man.”

“It isn’t a matter of dislike. There’s something… so… wicked about him. Manipulative and scheming. Don’t say it’s because he tried to put troops on Mandalore, and don’t you dare say it’s because he’s a politician.” She turned back to him, her gaze challenging.

“No,” he agreed prudently. “I won’t say that. I don’t disagree with you. He’s been a mentor to Anakin and to Padme for as long as I’ve known him, but I can’t help thinking it’s always been somehow for his own benefit. He steered Padme to get himself elected in the first place, and his grip on the office has been white-knuckled since. I can’t very well blame him for the war, but despite his lipservice towards peaceful resolution, the GAR keeps swelling its ranks.”

“I’ll blame him. Unfortunately, there’s no evidence to confirm it aside from my gut feeling.”

He placed a hand on her waist, his thumb tracing around her navel. “I’ve learned to trust your gut feelings. But dislike him, distrust him or not, my duty is to the Republic.”

He started to pull his arm back, but she gripped it by the elbow. He slid his hand to the small of her back, pulling her closer.

“What of your duty to me?” Her voice was quiet, but not without a note of beskar.

“Is it duty?” he asked. “I thought it was love.”

“Perhaps it’s very Mandalorian of me,” she said, “that we hold our most sacred duties to be to those we love.”

“Satine, I cannot put my devotion to you above the will of the Council or the good of the Republic. Not while I serve the Jedi Order.”

He almost expected her to pull away in anger or distress, but she shifted closer, pressing her face against his shoulder. “I know that. I’ve always known that. But it hasn’t hurt like this before.”

“Not since I left?” he suggested, burying his face in her hair and holding her tightly.

“No. Not even then. It wasn’t losing you, it was letting you go. This was… like I had died too.”

The guilt of it made his stomach turn. “I am so sorry, Satine. If there had been time to find another way… to spare you this…”

“The worst of it is that you knew how it would hurt me,” she accused. “And you still did it.”

“I knew,” he confirmed, regretful. “The Chancellor insisted on knowing everyone who was privy to the plan, and I had no time to even find the opportunity to disobey. I thought… the risk of revealing that you should be told…”

She let out a breath, hot against his skin.

“I think I’d have much rather run that risk than think you were dead.”

“If I’d had time to think it through, perhaps I’d have decided differently. But everything was snap decisions, and my instinct was to protect you.”

“And I can’t even be angry at you for that.”

“Of course you can be angry,” he soothed.

“Oh, what good does it do?” she demanded, lifting her head, fair brow furrowed. “Just wasting time quarreling when we have so little time together anyway.”

“Then you forgive me?” he asked humbly, kissing her forehead.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, stroking his cheek. “I know that I still want you, though.”

“Then I am yours,” he promised, kissing her fingertips.

“At least it’s not an offense that’s very likely to be repeated,” she reflected, shaking her head a little.

“Not very,” he agreed.

“I feel like I ought to extract some promise… some penance. But I expect you’ve punished yourself enough.”

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back. “The thing itself was terrible too. Not that I’m suggesting that what I went through can compare to-”

“Hush, darling,” she scolded. “It can be terrible on its own.”

“Sometimes I thought my death might end up not being a lie after all,” he said softly.

“Do you want to tell me?” she asked, her fingertips light across his brow.

He shook his head. No, he didn’t want to see how it would pain her, to think of him in danger, forced to behave as an utter villain. “Not now. Not more than I already have.”

She kissed him then, deep and ardent. “Then forget, for a while,” she said, breathless, her lips still brushing his. “Let me forget again. Make me forget.”

She hitched her leg around him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he shifted onto her, into the blissful oblivion where she was the center of the universe and the Force sang in resonance with their love.

#Obi Wan/Satine #obitine #Star Wars fic #Clone Wars fic #I wrote a thing #long post #Obi Wan Kenobi #Satine Kryze #guys I am so bad at titles #I have been trying to write something about this for ages

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dreaminpetals · 3 years

Text

💐 COMMISSION: fem s/o's wedding with andrew (sfw & nsfw) 💐

thank you so much for the commission! please consider checking out my emergency commissions here ! i hope you enjoy !

SFW ;;

♡ Andrew has always longed to marry somebody. Being a religious man, he's dreamed of filling a church with people who are dear to him as his beloved bride walks down the aisle.

♡ He's only glanced at weddings, an outsider looking in. The brides and grooms having the best nights of their lives made his heart feel fuzzy. Nobody would ever dare to wed him, but the idea was certainly a pleasant one. It helped him sleep. It comforted him when he needed it most. He wanted to look down at his hands and see a ring that reminded him someone out there loves him.

♡ He grew up with not even a penny to his name, so he knows having a luxurious wedding would be completely out of the picture for someone like him. Until he met you.

♡ You helped him get back on his feet and the two of you worked together to save up enough money for a wedding ceremony and reception, along with a honeymoon.

♡ Most honeymoons are spent lazing by the beach, but due to his body being constantly at war with sunlight, you decided to book a trip to a lovely cabin hidden away in the woods, a private place for just the two of you.

♡ He honestly thought you'd end up getting married in Red Church, surrounded by cobwebs and broken glass, but you insisted that you two would find a way to escape the manor and you'd have a proper wedding.

♡ It took months of promises and longing, but the seal keeping everyone trapped in the manor finally snapped and let everybody escape. You took Andrew's hand that day and promised him that a brighter future was upon you.

♡ Your wedding was surprisingly inexpensive. Despite your days in the manor being long gone, many of the survivors stayed in touch with you and were more than willing to help. You don't need to hire a whole team of wedding planners with the survivors by your side.

♡ Michiko and Violetta teamed up to sew you the most gorgeous dress you had ever laid eyes on.

♡ Emma designed your bouquet and enveloped the chapel in beautiful flowers.

♡ Norton prepared your rings using the finest gems he could find.

♡ Margaretha found the most wonderful songs to play and arranged dances.

♡ Vera styled your hair and Fiona did your makeup.

♡ Victor handled the invitations and did a fantastic job. So on and so forth.

♡ You and Andrew were on good terms with almost everyone, so they were all pumped to see how your wedding would play out. It was the greatest team effort they put into anything since the escape of the manor.

♡ You two had lots of practicing to do before the actual wedding. For one, Andrew didn't know table manners. You'd have to lovingly teach him gestures like how to cut his meat and how to do a toast before even daring to eat at the reception.

♡ Dancing together in your rooms was what Andrew enjoyed the most, though. Margie planned several dance routines, so you had triple the practicing to do when it came to dancing.

♡ Andrew was surprisingly agile during fast-paced dances, he loved to twirl you in the air like in a movie and dip you so low you thought you were going to crash into the ground. Each yelp only spurred him to play with you more, drinking up your reactions and getting all giddy because it's you.

♡ As for slow dancing with Mister Kreiss? You're so lucky to say you're familiar with it. He hums along to whatever music you play in the background, and puts so much love into every step or twirl that you feel like your heart might burst. It's agony waiting to dance with him in a suit and dress rather than your pajamas.

♡ You're blown away when you see the wedding venue for the first time. It's pure white with shades of red sprinkled in, the same colours Andrew has hated about himself now repurposed to be something he'd look at fondly for the rest of his life. It was beautiful. Like him.

♡ You noticed a chair with an unfamiliar name on it. When you asked Andrew who it belonged to, he answered that it was for his late mother. She would have loved to come, he said.

♡ He doesn't take the day of the wedding very well. What do you mean he can't see you until the ceremony?! He wants to greet you, kiss you, practice some extra dance moves to be extra sure... he's grumpy while the guys of the manor dress and hype him up.

♡ "Alright, let's do this! THREE CHEERS FOR OUR MAN ANDREW!" William would cheer so loudly the girls would hear it from the other side of the church and burst out into laughter.

♡ Andrew couldn't stop his hands from shaking, though. His lifelong dreams were finally being realized. The love of his life was going to marry him tonight. Willingly. He could barely believe it.

♡ As for you? You're brimming with excitement at the idea of walking down the aisle and shooting an arrow of love straight into Andrew's heart. The girls are envious of you as they powder your face and tighten the seams of your dress.

♡ "I remember when you first met that boy," Michiko would say to you as she styled your dress, beaming at you through the mirror. "You were too shy to even speak to one another... ah, young love."

♡ It took a million checks to make sure you were ready to present yourself to everybody. Your hair, makeup, dress, veil, bouquet... everything had to be absolutely perfect. It was a bit difficult having so many girls look after you, because Tracy's idea of perfect was a little bit different than Michiko's. There was a lot of playful arguing, but you knew they just wanted this day to be flawless for you.

♡ Once the petals were strewn down the halls and the bridesmaids and groomsmen made their appearances, you finally presented yourself.

♡ It took everything in Andrew to not fall to his knees when he saw you. You were angelic, your white dress cascading down your back with a stunning hairstyle he's never seen you in before. Your bouquet was made of all your favourite flowers, and he could see the perfect shade of lipstick beneath your vail. You captured Andrew's heart as he leaned onto Luca's shoulder for support.

♡ Andrew wasn't the only one who had his breath taken away. Practically everyone was gawking at you. It made Andrew feel a little... possessive, seeing everyone's eyes on you. He was going to be marrying you. Not José, not Norton, not Victor but him.

♡ All of his negative feelings disappeared the moment you were in arms reach. He extended an arm to take your hand as you gladly obliged. When he felt the fabric of your dress against his wrist, electricity shot through his body for a second time.

♡ Being able to see Andrew up close was a dream come true. His usual matted hair was thoroughly washed and brushed, it appeared as if José had lent him a hand. His usual flower was still present even as he wore a breathtaking suit. He smelled like cologne and looked so nervous but in love... you couldn't wait to finally kiss your groom.

♡ His hands trembled as he lifted your veil to reveal your features to him. You flashed him a grin and he felt his heart explode. He danced his fingers along your cheeks until they met your shoulders, which he gave an affectionate pat before turning to the priest.

♡ He had Helena help him with his vows. He wanted to blow you away, to use words you didn't think he knew. It took him days to memorize the words of love he was going to bestow upon you. You overheard him talking to himself a few times, but never guessed they were his vows.

♡ He also has some trouble with words of affection. Andrew much prefers to hold you or do favours for you.

♡ "When I first met you, I didn't think I was worthy of love. It's still hard to believe, but... I promise to return to you every affectionate gesture you give to me. I'll love you always and forever, as my angelic wife. I want to grow old with you. I vow to protect you, adore you, and care for you as long as I'm your husband. Our hearts will always be melded together and nothing will ever change that. Thank you for saving me. I love you."

♡ His vows brought some of the survivors to tears. Most of them only knew Andrew as that really quiet guy who hid behind his girlfriend a lot, so to see him spill his heart out for you made the crowd let out a sea of "awwwh"'s.

♡ His face turned scarlet and he almost wanted to run out of the building and hide once he finished speaking. He stumbled over and mispronounced a few words, but you could tell he put his whole heart into it and he meant every word he said.

♡ When he's finally able to kiss you, Andrew dips you low and assaults your entire face with kisses, treading past your lips. He doesn't care about smudging your makeup or embarrassing you, you're finally his wife and he just wants to feel your face after waiting all day to.

♡ The cheers once you become man and wife are astounding. When you tossed the bouquet it was caught by Eli and Gertrude.

♡ Demi helped to bake an enormous cake, one that's almost as tall as you. On top were little toppers meant to look like you and Andrew that you kept as mementos.

♡ The reception was definitely more of a party than the wedding was. Antonio and Margie played music for everyone to dance along to, and a karaoke session was held as well.

♡ Andrew was a little stressed out by how much noise there was, but you reminded him everyone there loved him and he melted. He's not used to all this positive attention.

♡ Your heart burst when he extended an arm and asked you to dance. You had been practicing for so long that when you finally attended the real event, it felt like a dream.

♡ For just a few minutes, nothing existed but Andrew's arms around you and the elegant music brought to you by a live band.

♡ Once all the food is eaten and gifts are exchanged, everyone bids you farewell. The girls cry when they hug you and the guys all pat Andrew on the back, wishing him good luck for... what couples do on their wedding night.

♡ When you two finally arrive home, Andrew is exhausted. He's never been to such a crowded event before, especially one where he's the main focus.

♡ He'd need to lay his head in your lap and relax as he plays with your dress. The fabric felt so pleasing under his fingers. He was so in love with every part of you. He needed to be as close to you as possible after being kept from you, and from being in public with you. He cherished alone time like this.

♡ Once he's rested up, you'd have to unpack all your gifts! Each survivor and hunter gifted you something for your domestic life with Andrew. Matching mugs, blankets, cutlery, paintings... you were drowning in presents.

♡ It took an hour, but you finally unwrapped and stored everything away.

♡ Which leads to...

NSFW ;;

♡ You and Andrew have had sex before. Maaany times. He views it as making up for lost time, it helps with his insecurities, and he enjoys making you feel good. Andrew will do everything in his power to make sure the lovemaking on your wedding night is nothing short of magical.

♡ When you're settled at home and can't think of any more chores to do, Andrew is more anxious than he's ever been. His face is red in a furious blush and he's barely able to muster a sentence as he stands stiffly, lustful eyes on you.

♡ He knows what couples are meant to do on their wedding nights, and he's so excited to make your wishes come true, but this poor boy has no idea how to initiate things. Whenever you make love, it's because he's visibly horny but too anxious to say anything so you take care of him.

♡ You approached your husband, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you stared up into his eyes. He didn't look at you or respond to your inquiry of whether he's okay or not. The growing tent in his pants spoke for itself.

♡ Your eyes widened when you felt his erection brush against your thigh. He could tell that you felt his arousal ー because he hoisted you up bridal style and pressed an openmouthed kiss to your lips. He was going to take you, and he was going to do it right.

♡ His sudden burst of confidence lead to him carrying you to your bedroom, and he gave you another kiss before gently placing you down on the bed.

♡ Andrew wouldn't know what to do next. He wants you eat you out for hours but... your dress is in the way. And he doesn't feel like taking it off just yet. No, he wants to take his sweet time with you. It's your wedding night, after all.

♡ His solution? Dry humping. He's always adored being able to rut against you like a wild animal, and getting to do so in your elegant wedding gear has him rearing to go. He doesn't want to soil your gown, no, he just wants to do something absolutely filthy in attire that's meant to be for a ceremony all about you.

♡ He would spread your legs as far as they possibly could go in your dress. When he hikes your dress up to your lower stomach and finally sees the sweet dessert laid out just for him, he's bucking his hips into the cold air for any sense of relief.

♡ He'd press his clothed cock against your panties and see stars. His lovely wife was so close to him but so far... he wasn't sure how long he could last like this.

♡ Andrew ground against you in a frenzy, arms snaking around your back as his face nestled itself in the crook of your neck, sucking sweet little kisses onto the flesh. He groaned when he rubbed against you just right, aiming to hit the same spots over and over again.

♡ He wouldn't let your needs go unnoticed. Andrew would angle himself to rub against your clit, and he'd pay special attention to your neck as he desperately got himself off with your body.

♡ The low groan that escaped from his lips as he came into his boxers went straight to between your legs. As he rode out his high, he'd push your panties aside and finish you off with his fingers before pulling away. Something about cumming before even getting his clothes off made him growl with need. And it made him desire you even more than he already did; skin to skin this time.

♡ Andrew asked you to undress him. You felt him shudder underneath you as you removed his suit and got him out of his pants. Stripping him reminded you that beneath all the cologne and hair gel, it was still your Andrew. His scarred body yearned for yours and you were more than happy to press a chaste kiss to his chest once he was undressed, your way of telling him you loved him.

♡ Your husband would ask you to sit in his lap, right on top of his aching boner just begging to be touched, and grind against it as he undid the several seams on your back.

♡ Andrew loves mirrors. He doesn't like seeing himself in them, but you? He could watch you be undressed through a mirror all day long. He thinks his hands look good when they're unbuttoning the fabric keeping him from you.

♡ You looked so radiant that Andrew would need to fuck you in front of a mirror just to truly see you.

♡ He would take his sweet time with you, for every untied string he would thrust up to grind against your clothed pussy and nibble your shoulders. Hearing you mewl in his lap causes his hands to fumble as he undresses you. He wondered just how someone could be so cute every time a moan is pulled from your throat.

♡ Andrew felt a little dejected once your dress was ready to come off. He would miss seeing you in it.

♡ ...Those feelings didn't last long, though. The moment he laid eyes on your bare body he was surging with confidence and hunger.

♡ "You look so ravishing... my... my wife..." he muttered, mostly to himself. It appeared he was still in disbelief that you were a wedded couple. Throughout the night he'd periodically mumble to himself that you were his wife, or he'd call you Mrs Kreiss. It had a lovely ring to it.

♡ Andrew wants ー no, needs ー to taste you after being away from you for so long. He would eat you out like a man starved.

♡ Positioning his face between your thighs, Andrew licked a sloppy stripe up your pussy, stopping right below your clit. Then he'd lick back down, avoiding the place where you needed him most. Your frustrated groans earned a soft chuckle from Andrew. He wanted to draw this out... he was in a playful mood.

♡ He massaged your thighs as he teased your folds, finally pulling away to ask you the question that would be the death of you. "Tell me what you want, my... wife..." his voice dropped in volume when he reached your title. He didn't care in that moment how cheesy it sounded, this was the ultimate night to be sappy with his angel.

♡ "Enough teasing, Andrew, please... eat me out," you'd weep through gritted teeth as your husband nibbled your thighs and nodded his head in response your pleas.

♡ Now that he's gotten you riled up for him (he wants to feel needed), he's not holding back. Andrew is the king of being unintentionally rough. He'd leave your core battered from how deep his licks are and how his chin smacks against your soft flesh.

♡ The moment Andrew feels you contract and twitch around him, he's slipping a wet finger into your walls to torture you further. He won't stop his ministrations even as you cum hard around him.

♡ He's extra passionate for your wedding night which translates into him not giving you a break. He doesn't want to pull away from your pussy, he wants to keep his head burrowed between your legs for as long as he possibly can. His tongue is going to commit every inch of you to memory tonight.

♡ If you really want to make this night worth your while, tackle Andrew once you feel overwhelmed and turn the tables on him.

♡ He loves when you take control and take him by surprise. One minute he was devouring you, and the next you've pushed his back against the headrest and you're lowering your head dangerously close to his cock.

♡ He wants you to feel good even as you suck him off, so Andrew will finger you while your lips are wrapped around his dick. He'll angle himself so the palm of his hand rubs against your sensitive nub. It drives him wild how sloppy your strokes and licks are when you're on the verge of cumming.

♡ He'd prefer to cum in your mouth. It's an intimate night, he doesn't want you to be completely covered in his seed just yet. He'd rather save that for the honeymoon.

♡ Chest heaving against your back, Andrew's next move is to pull you into his lap again. Remember how much he loves mirrors? He'll seat you right on his cock and direct your face with his hands to look right into the mirror across from your bed.

♡ "My wife," he'd murmur into your shoulder before snapping his hips into yours.

♡ Having Andrew's mouth so close to your ears means you'll get to hear every gasp and purr that he emits. And he makes a lot of quiet noises he tries to hide.

♡ Andrew made sure to cup a hand around your breasts and kiss your neck & lips as well. He wants to surround you. He wants all of your senses to be overtaken by him until you can't function.

♡ He would whisper praise into your ear, telling you how beautiful you look and how good you feel around him. It's not like him to be this bold and dominant but you're loving it.

♡ Andrew asked to cum inside you that night. When he finally reached his climax, he lifted you up so he could admire the string of cum connecting the husband to his wife. He was addicted to the sight and made sure to capture it in his memories for as long as he could.

♡ After several more rounds of rough licks and hard thrusts, Andrew would want something more soft and classic with you.

♡ Gently lowering you onto the mattress, Andrew would hover over you and press a tender kiss to your lips. With one long thrust, he'd fill you right up and stay like that, your hands connecting.

♡ His thrusts would be slow and sensual, making love to you rather than just fucking you. Don't be surprised if you feel hot tears drop onto your shoulders. This is one of the most sentimental moments of Andrew's whole life.

♡ Your tongues would dance as your lips locked in an intense kiss, you can tell how desperately he's trying to last and make this feel good for you.

♡ Andrew quickly repositioned himself to hit that spot inside of you. He's committed the location to memory, and wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't relentlessly batter it tonight.

♡ Your sudden gasps caused his thrusts to grow frantic, his hot breath fanning onto your neck as he plowed you into the mattress.

♡ You could feel his smirk on your skin when you began to pulse around him.

♡ "Good girl..." he would purr, rubbing circles on the back of your hand as you rode out your high. Hearing your cries of pure ecstasy pushed Andrew over the edge, and he emptied himself into you. You had never felt so stuffed before.

♡ Once you've decided you had enough, Andrew's entire demeanour changes. Before, he was determined to push your limits and hear your cries, while now he's insisting that you take a bath. He feels awful that he ruined your hair and makeup, plus you're littered with hickeys and your thighs are stained with seed... he doesn't know that you wouldn't have it any other way.

#andrew kreiss x reader #idv x reader #identity v imagines #andrew kreiss smut #andrew kreiss #andrew kreiss imagine

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