#it was just so sudden and abrupt and because of recent events she fears the worst | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monst · 4 years

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Usagiyama Rumi (Mirko) x Reader

Warnings again: Death, Dub/con, Reanimation, Necrophilia, Greif, shower sex

Inspired by: Stephen King’s “Pet Sematary.”

Enjoy!

The sight of the vacant apartment slapped you in the face, the force of it leaving you breathless forcing your legs to collapse upon themselves. You laid slumped against the wooden door frame for a while letting the events of the day repeat in your head. You clutched your head, furious fingers gripping onto your shaking skull as you tried to forget. But the images flashed behind your eyes all too quickly.

Her smile, the confidence she exuded when she hopped onto the crosswalk to pursue the thief, the sickening sound of- You clamped you hand over your mouth, you felt bile begin to rise up and you quickly stood on wobbly legs. You ran to the bathroom throwing the door opening with a loud slam, your fingernails digging under the toilet seat as you released a thick wad of phlegm. Your body trembled as you dry heaved into the still water below, your stomach cramped as you had nothing left in your body to remove.

You made the mistake of closing your eyes, crimson stained snowy strands the petrified screams of the truck driver piercing your ears. To escape it you dunked your head into the clear water below, bubbles slipping out of your mouth and nose as you screamed into the liquid. When your lungs could bear the lack of oxygen no longer you sat up, droplets of water slid down your neck and stained your already soiled shirt. Your eyes looked down at your palm and you squeezed it tightly remembering the limp hand that you had gripped just a couple hours ago.

Needless to say… You weren’t the same after her abrupt passing. You sauntered around aimlessly without your compass, complexion ghast and withered as you struggled to fit the jigsaw puzzles into their broken mold. Every night since you had begun to stay at work late, anything to leave the suffocating emptiness of your once shared apartment. You worked yourself raw, tired eyes drooping when you finally made it home. Your bed laid cold as sleep played a mischievous game of keep away. You could never remember when your eyes would slip shut, as you gazed longingly at what was once her side of the bed.

It was another grueling day when you received a phone call at work. You had wondered when they would call. It had been well over three weeks since the bunny hero’s passing and there was yet to be a funeral. As a government official her body had been kept in a private morgue, corpse moderately preserved as the state had wanted to conduct an autopsy. You just wanted her body back so that you could visit her grave, the higher ups wanted to run tests, they were sure foul play was involved, positive that she should have made it out of the way. You didn’t want to entertain the thought. ‘She was distracted.’

Regarding the call, they were finally releasing her body to you. Well to be precise they were releasing it to the public so that you along with her relatives and friends could hold a service. The beep of the call being hung up was all that it took for you to crumble. And as soon as you did you were given leave, you knew that your home would feel extremely desolate now that the sutures had been torn open, allowing your recent wound to bleed anew.

It was indeed fitting that the sky also wept along with you, the dull slate and muted blacks above expressing your deepest feelings. You stood just outside of the bus stop allowing the rain to seep into your clothes, allowing the weeping of the clouds to console your spirit by sapping away all warmth. Ironically enough the trembling of your chilled bones allowed you to feel closer to her, for she too was cold. You garnered odd stares as you let the first bus pass you by and the next, and the next.

Your body was numb, the dark sheet above you seemed to slink around you. The wispy clouds seemed to lower the ever present darkness manifesting itself outside of your soul. Dim lights began to twinkle in the ever growing black. Soon another bus stopped by the driver standing in front of the stop for much longer than needed.

“Hey? Are you alright?” He called out. There was a pause as you didn’t reply and he quickly added necessary information “This is the last bus of the night.”

That spurred movement and your frozen toes pained at the sudden movement. You slinked into the bus, steps slow and heavy. There weren’t many patrons on the vehicle allowing for an ample amount of choice on seating. You choose to stand, leaning against a cold pole that sapped whatever warmth remained on your cheek. You swayed with the movement of the bus, eyes closed as people passed you to step off on their stop. You had missed yours a couple minutes ago, you weren’t ready to face the empty apartment again.

The driver was beginning to grow nervous, you hadn’t moved and there were only three more stops left on his route and neither of those places had any close residence nearby. The man took a quick glance at your gaunt form, your somber expression inspiring curiosity.

“Bad breakup?” He asked with a slight chuckle. You shook your head. “Lost your job?” He tried again, you repeated the movement. “....Mourning?” He knew he had gotten it right when your head bowed to look down at the worn floor. “Oh….I’m..I’m sorry for your loss.”

He didn’t speak again but he did see the last person on the bus get up. It was an eldrly woman he saw from time to time. One who always smiled at him as she got off a stop before the end of the route. He wondered why she was always there so late into the night, but he recalled his boss telling him not to engage in conversation with her and by all means to never allow someone to step off with her on her usual stop. HIs knuckles whitened as he gripped the wheel tighter, from his peripheral he noticed her hobble closer to you.

He could only make out the furrowing of your brows as she whispered to you, he couldn’t hear anything being said only that you were displeased with what she spoke. Your confusion turned to ire and at last a melancholic frown touched your lips. He saw you nod and despite not knowing why he was ordered not to let anyone off with her he felt his heart sink. Tears welled in his eyes as he somehow thought that you had made a terrible choice…. He considered passing the stop without stopping but the old woman pulled the cord and a dim yellow light illuminated his face.

The wrinkled face of the edlry woman smiled back at him, her small beady eyes curved up in such a menacing way that left his body cold. A deeply malicious glint flashed across her eyes as he slid the bus to a halt, the large vehicle hissed as it paused and reluctantly he opened the door. His heart pounded loudly in his chest as an overwhelming fear for your life bubbled inside of him and against his better judgement he turned away from the sight of you as the old lady guided you off the bus and into the night, he drove away wondering what would become of you.

The woman’s hand was cold, her bony fingers were practically crushing your hand in her deft grip as if she didn’t want you to somehow free yourself. Not that you were going to, in all honesty what she proposed was absolutely preposterous and you should be freeing yourself from the possibly senile woman’s grasp. The whole idea was ludacris, shrine gods bringing the dead to life! Ridiculous and yet you fell into step with her, maybe it was because you were impossibly cold, maybe you had gotten sick and your feverish body was impairing your thoughts.

Or maybe… Maybe you wanted for this to be true, who were you fooling? You desperately wanted to believe that there was some way to get your beloved back. You had walked with the woman for about ten minutes, the shabby shrine that was only just visible from the bus sign had grown larger with every step and soon you were standing upon the squishy soil surrounding the structure.

“It’s simple really.” The elderly lady croaked. “You bury the dead here in front and pray to the deity of the shrine, you ask her to revive the unmoving and then they get up, within them new life.” She breathed.

You felt your blood rush, and you quickly shook her grip off. Your breathing came in quick rapid pants as you took in the eerie building and felt your shoes sink further into the dirt. There was something off putting about it all and in the recesses of your mind you could hear a voice telling you to run, to get as far away from there as possible. The shrine seemed alive, the doors expanding in what looked like respiration. The old woman was gone.

Your head whipped around frantically, ‘She couldn’t have just disappeared?!’ panic began to settle in your bones as a gust of wind blew open the doors of the shrine a low sounding groan resounded throughout the area. You quickly turned only to see the pale wrinkling face of the old woman in front of you, her sagging skin seeming to drip off her bones like wax. Fear gripped your heart as you backed up, closer to the Shrine you noticed.

“Bring her body.” She mumbled. Your heart froze at the gravely tone “Bring her body.” She repeated as she grew closer, pieces of her melting flesh sliding off and sizzling on the ground below, it was then that it hit you. A smell so nauseating that you found your throat constricting in a gag, the putrid stench seemed to come from all around you and in your wild panic you pushed past her and ran. Tears picked at your eyes as you heard her howl one last time.

“b̷̾̄̄̓̑͐̏̐́̀͋͝͝r̷̖̬̱̣̮͖̆̾̀̇́̆i̴̯͔͑n̶̢̘̭͔̘̪͉̫͍̙̺̲̟͂ģ̴̢̨̩̻̲͖̠͚͍̜̼̔̍̅͜ͅ ̵̡̮̥̼̺͉̰̦̱͙͕͇̝͈̔̈́̈̅͊̈́̈́͌̀ḥ̴̯͍̣̯̖̀ẻ̴̫̞̹̪̼̲̒͋̇̂͆͋̾͐̋͝ŗ̸̧̛͖̺̹̙͍̥͆͆̿̑̀̎̃̅ ̷̢̧̜̠͖̭̦͙̺̄̒ͅb̴̛̹̉́̅́̚̚o̵̦͓̼̬͗̄͂̍̊͗̀̀̀̌̽̈́̀̈́͝d̴̢̗̩͇͕̮͓̭̳̳̒͜y̶̡̫͎͙̮̙̫͓̘͑͝ͅ”

To your surprise the bus was waiting at the stop, doors open and you didn’t hesitate and climbed inside hurriedly asking the driver to shut the door. He quickly did and then speeded away. You panted as you thought back on what occurred all the while the driver rambled on.

“I-I just couldn’t leave you back there, I-It felt wrong ya know?” You nodded in thanks and shook your head when he asked you about what had happened.

The following days went by in a blur as you tried to prepare for the funeral all the while trying to forget the horrific encounter. Sadly, the preparations only left you feeling more disheartened. The feeling only grew worse when you had met up with an old friend of hers. He was also a hero, a hero that should have been there the day of the incident. You couldn’t help the thoughts that raged war in your head. ‘If he had only been there, he was supposed to be there but even if he were, would he have been able to save her? Who cares if he’d had been there it would have been him getting hit...That would have really been the best outcome.’

You excused yourself early on into the meet up due to such negative thoughts. Hawks only smiled at you, his hand sliding into his lover's grasp as he said a well meaning ‘We’re here for you’. It was sickening, it was revolting and quite frankly it was downright unfair. Maybe that’s why you had gone back, maybe that’s why you plucked up the roadkill on your drive to the Shrine, maybe that’s why you were burying the dead creature in the loose soil. And although you felt silly you clasped your hands together hoping that the daylight didn’t affect the results.

You waited...and waited and- You sighed thinking yourself foolish for even thinking that it would work. You dusted off your hands on your clothes as you got up, you picked the dirt from between your fingers trying to rationalize the events of the night you first came here. ‘Maybe I didn’t see anything and just hallucinated it.’ You mused. You looked back at the Shrine, a scoff slipping past your lips, your heart feeling heavy at having your small inkling of hope crush- The door to the Shrine was open. You felt your breath catch in your throat as you made out a lone eye from within the small crack on the door.

The single orb filled you with dread, the beings irises were a coal black, it’s sclera of the same hue, it resembled a bottomless pit, a sinking void filled with underlying anger and malice, you saw a flash of white and your heart stuttered at the jagged smile of the creature. You were about to start hyperventilating when you felt something scurry between your legs. You yelped, your knees buckling as you tumbled to the ground. The racoon hissed at you as it ran off, and in the space where it had once been buried was a small hole….

You grunted, your muscles burning at the strain of the weight that you lugged. ‘Now I know why they call it dead weight.’ You thought as you struggled to lug the body bag towards the Shrine. You ignored the creaking of the doors and quickly unzipped the bag to reveal the corpse. Caramel skin was greeted by the pale moonlight long white lashes closed in what seemed like restful slumber. You caressed her swallow cheek, the skin moving and almost peeling at the movement. She hadn’t fully begun to decompose due to the chemical bath she was in but there were still signs of decomposition but luckily there wasn’t any putrefaction.

It wasn’t easy getting her body out of the funeral home but a quick switch with one of the unmarked bodies in the back had proven helpful, not to mention that you specifically asked for a closed casket viewing. Grinning at your quick wit you began to carefully remove her from the bag. You had already prepared a hole the previous day and without wasting a single moment you shimmed her body into it, you then began to pour the dirt onto her body making sure to cover each and every inch.

You kneeled before her submerged body and facing the dark Shrine you began to pray. The chilly night air seemed to pick up in speed as you did so and you scrunched your eyes in concentration waiting for your lover to rise. Seconds soon turned to minutes and minutes turned into a half-an hour then an hour and with every second you lost hope in this working. You were thinking about how you were going to explain that you stole her body when you felt the soil shift beneath you. You gasped in excitement and backed up to allow her room.

Your smile turned south when she began to writhe, pained growls emanating from her reanimating body. When she broke through to the surface a collection of bubbles had accumulated in her mouth, the white liquid bubbling down her chin. Her red eyes were but two ever shifting dots, her teeth bared as she hissed and whimpered.

“R-Rumi?” You stuttered. The sudden sound had her neck snapping towards you at an unnatural angle, she lifted herself onto all fours and arched her back like a feline growling at you while frothing at the mouth. She snapped her jaw in your direction her muscles tense, clearly she was ready to pounce. “H-Hey i-it’s me (N-Name), Remember.”

Her hostile eyes showed no signs of recognition as she pounced, her jaw connected with your forearm, her incisor digging into your soft flesh, You screamed at the cold tingle that raked your body when she pulled back. QUickly you saunted backwards, and she followed suit intent on harming you. Without thinking of it you rushed forwards into the mouth of the Shrine and closed the door. Her body came down on it repeatedly, she panted and made incomprehensible guttural noises as she slammed her body against the wooden door.

You pressed your body to the flimsy wood praying that it would hold. Tears dotted your vision as you tried not to puke from the repulsive stench in the Shrine. You kept your eyes shut, trying to ignore the rumbling chuckles of the creature and the violent hisses from what was the body of your lover. This went on for what felt like hours.

The invasive light of day was what woke you, and you had found that you had fell asleep leaning against the door, the creature that seemed to wear the skin of the old woman was fast asleep in a corner of the room and you were grateful that it had left you alone. Though you had no idea why it would, you weren’t going to question it and you hastily slipped out of the Shrine. You squinted as you looked for any signs of Mirko. The large hole was vacant and there was no sight of her. Hell you doubted that what rose was even her.

You searched all morning and even ventured into the surrounding forest only to find nothing, your limbs ached and you were beyond tired, you would look for your lover later. Right now you had to leave and get presentable to attend her funeral…

It was odd to attend a funeral knowing that the person who was supposed to be dead was wandering around the forest behind the Shrine. When people gave you their condolences you could only think about the rabid rabbit that hopped through the bushes in the woods… You needed to find her. You got to your apartment and quickly changed out of your dark funeral attire and redid the bandage of where she had bit down on you.

“I hope this doesn’t get infected.” You winced, when you stretched out your arm and continued to look around your apartment trying to find things to aid you. Her favorite snacks, a flashlight, a ball gag to stop her from biting you again… You were about ready to head out when you heard a tap on your window. The sound startled you, but you sauntered over to the window of the fire-escape and you froze in your tracks. She was there.

You were hesitant to let her in wondering if she was rational?? But the sight of seeing her red eyes lit with life had you undoing the latch and letting her in. She crawled in on all fours, her ears twitching awkwardly, she looked up at you from her crouch and tilted her head. “(Name).” She growled.

Tears sprung from your eyes, cascading down your cheeks and off your chin. She was back. Your Rumi was back. You crouched down and enveloped her into your arms, sobbing as you buried your nose into her hair. Her nails dug into the skin of your arms, she left scratches on your arms but you couldn’t care less. You had her back, you weren’t going to be alone, you weren’t going to hurt anymore.

It had taken a while but after a couple of days she was finally walking on two legs, her gait was still awkward but she was behaving more humanly every day. ‘She just needs time, she was dead for a while’ That was how you rationalized all her other...symptoms. Your snowy haired lover was much more violent than she had previously been and you had written it off as agitation for not being able to function like normal right off the bat….How wrong you were.

In observing you Mirko was finally able to perfect acting human and unbeknownst to you would sneak out while you slept. You were still hesitant to sleep in the same room as her therefore her nightly activities went on without you noticing. And it would have continued as such had you not gotten confident with her ‘Recovery’.

You were bundled up in your blankets, your eyes moving underneath your lids with sleep when she found that your room was finally unlocked. Quietly she turned the knob pushing the door open with a soft creak. Your body rose and fell with life as she went closer, her fingers curled underneath the sheets as she exposed your body to her sight. Her eyes zoned in on your neck and her strong fingers curled around the fragile area. She had climbed on top of you, the pads of her thumbs pressing into your soft throat. You had woken up with a start, your eyes blown wide, watching as she leered down at you.

Her pupils seemed to bleed into her irises tainting her ruby eyes a soulless black, once they covered up the vermillion the inky dark seeped into the whites of her eyes and your hands quickly went over hers to try to pry her fingers off you. A quick shout of her name and the black receded her red eyes looking down at you, surprise and harmful intent swirling in her bloody hues.

You knew something was incredibly wrong with your lover when you had gotten up for water late in the night. You were walking into the kitchen when you heard tiny snaps and a cringe worthy squelch. The smacking of lips and grotesque slurping followed and with your heart in your throat you dared a peek into the kitchen. You wished you could unsee it, she slurped the pink tail of a mouse like spaghetti, her teeth stained crimson, soulless black eyes turned towards you.

Those empty pits stared at you, she had paused her consumption and you feared that

you were next. Her empty eyes bore into yours and you stepped back slowly praying that she wouldn’t pounce. Every step backwards had your heart slamming against your ribcage, you let out a sigh of relief once you were in your room and the door was locked, but the eating sounds continued…

Rumi bagan leaving you ‘little’ gifts. And no matter how many locks you had on the doors and windows, and no matter how much sleeping pills you slipped her she always got out and when you’d wake there was a...gift. You had to lug the bodies out of your apartment in the dead of night. You knew bringing them to the shrine was a bad idea but you didn’t know where else to hide them. No one knew Rumi was alive and you mean to keep it that was least they find out..other things.

You wiped the sweat from your brow as you heaved yet another corpse to the door of the shrine. The shock of it had worn off long ago and had quickly become routine. You had basically become a slave for the ‘deity’ feeding it whatever Mirko killed. It was sickening but you put up with it because there were times in which Rumi was herself and that in and of itself was enough for you.

You took the bus back home, noticing that the ‘elderly lady’ was talking to another downtrodden person. “So how’s it going?” The chatty bus driver chirped, his eyes glaring at the interaction. To his relief the man shuffled away from the ‘thing’.

“Alright.” You sighed tiedly, hoping that there wasn’t another ‘surprise’ for you at home.

“You’ve been coming here a lot.” He pressed curiously.

“Yes, I know.” You left it at that and he quickly shut up waving you goodbye when you slipped out of the bus.

You walked into your apartment and kicked off your shoes. “Hey babe!” You tuned to see Rumi on the couch with a spoon hanging from her lips. You smiled glad that the being gifted you with the real thing for the night. You avoided her arms as she tried to grab onto you for cuddles.

“I’m dirty, Imma just shower real quick I’ll be right back.” You smiled, grabbing onto her warm hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. And you left to go do just that.

As you washed your body you had come to notice that whenever the ‘deity’ was fed you’d have a perfect Mirko. ‘It’s messed up but…’

“Babe~” You smiled when you felt Rumi’s hands glide over your body, her long silky hair laid wet and flat on her head as she stepped further into the water of the showerhead. Her strong arms curled around your neck, her full lips pressing against yours.

You gasped when she pulled away, her sneaky hand sliding down your slick body. Her lips seared kissed across the expanse of your neck, and you couldn’t help but sigh when her other hand cupped your breasts. She kneaded the pulpy flesh and the wicked fingers of her other hand working slow circles around your puffy clit.

Without warning she dipped her head down to catch a perky nipple in between her teeth. You could only lean against the wall, your fingers buried into her hair as you encouraged her to continue.

“Ah~ R-Rumi~” You panted, your face warming up as she began to suck on your hardened buds, her fingers putting more pressure on your clit, the slippery slick of your pussy making it easy for her to toy with you. You had the urge to kiss your lover and your hands slipped under her chin to bring her face up to your lips. But when she looked up at you, you froze.

Inky black pools stared up at you, and you saw her pink tongue swipe across her lips, your breath caught in your throat at the empty sockets. A grin crawled onto her features and she parted her lips to speak.

“Ī̶͎͕̰̤̙̠̻̂͒̔̈̑̓̓̆͌́͐̎̒̽s̴̨̞̼̙̥̤̣̭̼̰̦͕̠͚͉͌̒ ̷̨̧͙͕͉̩̗̱͚̲̩̀́͛̃̓̃̏̊̎̎̅͝͝͠s̵̨̨̨̛̛̤̭̗͎̜̺̤̫̗͆̈́̇̿̂̔͝ơ̷̘̦̲̮̰̘͈͉̯̥̺̌͊̑̊̀̋̑̒͑̚͜͜͝͠m̸̯̖͑̈́͐̿̈́̉͛̀̅́ẻ̷͔͈̼̝͖̠̼͇͙͎̑́̑͜ͅt̸̯̜̤̜̹̹̩̫͈̮͗͋̓͊̾͗͠͝h̷̛̙̗͂̔̎́͑̚ì̶͚̈͒̀̏̌͠͠͝n̶̨̢̥͉̱͚̟̣̮͆̓̈́̌̌͒͆̅̑͆̓̉ǵ̶̛̛̫̼̟̈̆̎̓̑́͐̓̑̓̕͝ ̶̺̉͊̕͜w̵͇͍̓̎̽̀̋̿͗̽̃̅̑͐͘͜r̶͎̳̼̰̰̐̍̐ǫ̵̡̛͖̥͈̣͍̣̙̼̪͌͐̃̓͛̓̂͘n̶̖͔̝͖̱̺̬͓̜̒̂͌ͅg̷̝̠̼̫̓̉?̷̲̝͕̤̮̇̒̾͒͒͋̽̋̃͆̇̈”You shook your head with a smile, your lips colliding with hers.

“No.”

#frightober 2020 #rumi usagiyama x reader #Mirko x reader #mirko smut #rumi usagiyama smut #mirko x reader smut #bnha scenarios #bnha smut

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lupinsx · 4 years

Text

Cherry Lollipop

masterlist

Request: Hii! Can I request a George Weasley x Slytherin!reader who is best friends with Draco, set post war, where the reader has always had a thing for him over the years. And she's in Diagon Alley with Draco, and he convinces her to go talk to George. And just awkward flirting and fluff?

Pairing: George Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: After hiding from society in fear of the reputation Slytherins have, Y/N is forced to finally talk to her not-so former Hogwarts crush.

Word Count: 2k

a/n — I love this idea so much, thank you for requesting! I hope you all enjoy this, it was really fun to write.

tags: @obsessedwithrandomthings @malfoys-demigod @do-do-do-do-dora @ickle-ronniekins

*contact me if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

——————————

"You can't stay in denial forever, Y/N."

"Really? Because I wholeheartedly intend to."

You were currently stood in front of a shop. A particularly ornate building, one that stands out within the row of various older businesses. While you hesitated on entering, your best friend stood tiredly next to you.

It's been a year since the infamous Battle of Hogwarts. The one which solidified the awful conviction of Slytherins being inherently evil, declaring you, Draco, and all other former housemates as outcasts to society.

You have rarely exited your dainty flat since, choosing to cower away rather than comfort the wizards head-on; making this visit to Diagon Alley being the first in months.

"Come on, just talk to him!" Draco groaned in exasperation. You merely glared in response at his seemingly bold suggestion.

Laid in front of you two was Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, an esteemed joke shop run by recent students. It was the current sole owner of the shop your friend was urging you to greet—George Weasley, better known for being your longtime crush.

It was during your earlier years in Hogwarts when that particular twin caught your attention. Part of a mischievous duo, though he stood out amongst it as a man of his own. With his tousled ginger hair and trademark brazen grin, it was hard for him not to leave an impression.

And so, you watched him over the years. You admired George from the sidelines as he resided in the centre spotlight, his usual cherry lollipop poking through his cheeks as he and his brother receive applaud for their latest jape.

But never have you stepped out of the surrounding crowd. No, not once have you considered doing so.

You could thank your house placement for contributing to your reluctance to face your crush. The whole Voldemort situation had practically all of Hogwarts loathing Slytherins. There was too slim of a change that George would be exempted from that hateful majority, and you were too fearful to ask. Not to mention, you doubted George would be exactly eager to converse with the best friend of his younger brother's bully.

"What's so scary about talking to someone?" Draco asked, a slightly mocking tone passing through as he crossed his arms.

All it took was a gesture to the nearby wizards and witches to convey your point. "He hates me. Just like everyone else here."

"Everyone else here?"

"Merlin, Draco, you can't stay ignorant of the deprecating glares we've been getting since we arrived. Every corner is just a new judgemental scoff." Although Draco didn't attempt to deny your point, he chose to brush past it instead as he offers an encouraging squeeze to your shoulders.

"So, are you gonna go in or not?" He questions, allowing one final opportunity for you to take action through your own will. However, upon first sight of you shaking your head tentatively, he shifted your position to face the doorway.

"Alright, there goes your choice. You can thank me tomorrow."

And with that, he landed a nice shove onto your upper back, forcing you inside the shop with the sound of harmonious bells to commence your arrival. Just as you thought you could promptly slip out unnoticed, footsteps began approaching you, coming gradually closer until an imposing figure came into view.

It was George Weasley, the very owner you were afraid to see.

"H-hello," you stammered, inching closer to the doorway. The store was deserted, much to your confusion, though you quickly realized why upon glimpsing the closing sign displayed upfront.

George tilted his head and elevated an eyebrow, invoking internal butterflies to the slightest degree. "We're closed. I can't sell you anything."

"I didn't come here for that." Although you meant to say you had arrived on accident, he interpreted differently and instead gestured you further inside.

"Well then, I don't mind the company."

Turning on his heel, he then went back to restocking the shelves as your feet stood frozen in your position by the exit. However, all it took was a single glance at your direction for you to immediately follow after.

"So, Y/N L/N," George began, his eyes set on the objects in front of him, "you're the Slytherin in my brother's year, right?"

You only nodded timidly, taking a seat on the ladder next to him. Part of you felt worried about him knowing you, while the other part felt almost flattered. Regardless, you had too many thoughts racing in your mind to engage in normal conversation.

Noticing your lack of response, George looked up from the box with a warm smile. "A quiet one, huh?"

You were thrown off guard by the absence of clear revulsion in his expression. With his amiability mildly calming your nerves, you mustered a somewhat confident tone. "Only sometimes."

George gave an airy chuckle before returning back to the tedious work. You watched intently as he unloaded the boxes onto the shelves, his face contorting with every strenuous article.

Without much thought, you blurted out the one thing on your mind since your rather abrupt arrival. "You've changed."

"Changed?" he mumbled curiously, his attention now diverted from the task. "In what way?"

You paused, scrutinizing his appearance thoughtfully before responding. "I suppose you've gotten more mature. You dress fancily and have your hair a lot neater. No more cherry lolly either."

A grin spread across George's lips as he sat down on the floor, chin resting on his palm as he held a playful gaze. "I'm surprised you remember the lollipop. Flavour and all."

Your eyes diverted from his intense stare, arms crossed by your chest as you fidgeted in your seat. A smirk almost rose to the surface before you suddenly came up with an explanation.

"I mean, a lot of girls in my year were swooning over you. I've heard Weasley twins trivia nearly every day," you uttered with hesitance, attempting to conceal your former (and still remaining) liking towards him.

It seemed to have worked, as he stood up to resume his duties. "Then I'll take your observation as a compliment."

The area grew silent again, only the sound of him working filling the air. You simply played with the ends of your fingers as you tried to think of what to say. After a while of him unloading the products, George grabbed the box and dumped it into the storage room, heading to the front counter before gesturing you over.

Rather than going over there promptly, you stood up and spoke from your side of the room, inciting a questioning glance from the boy further away. "Are you a parking ticket?"

A cringe made its way onto your countenance as you grasped what was said thoughtlessly. Meanwhile, George stood confused by your question.

Without waiting for a response, you did what you always do best, and what was constantly discouraged by your best friend. The embarrassment was wiped from your face as you took a couple of steps forwards and continued your words with pride.

"Because you've got fine written all over you."

There was a brief moment of silence before George hunched over with mirth as a loud chortle escaped his throat. His amusement took down your short-lived confidence, replacing the proud smile on your face with a sheepish expression.

"Oh god, where did that come from?" George asked between laughs, tears welling in the corner of his eyes.

You bit your lip as you made your way to the counter, eyes faced down. "I don't know? I wanted to fill the silence, I guess."

"Here, I got a better one," he said as you leaned on the counter, George standing behind it while counting the register. He paused his movements to think, before perking up with a pointed finger.

Clearing his throat, he laid his forearm on the counter and leaned slightly. "Can I follow you home?

"Cause my mom always told me to follow my dreams."

You pursed your lips, shaking your head slowly. George had a look of disbelief upon seeing your expression. "Nah," you drawled, "I've heard better."

"Alright then, tough crowd, I suppose," he chuckled.

Being able to witness George's radiant grin up close and hear the sound of his buoyant laughter brought a smile of your own onto your usual inscrutable countenance. After a while of exchanging the cheesiest lines one could possibly muster, a thought occurred in your head, taking over your mind at a rapid rate.

"George, why don't you hate me?"

His face appeared visibly confused by your sudden question. "Why would I?"

"Isn't that how most wizards feel at this point? That former Slytherins are all Death Eaters in hiding." You paused, face twisting with regret before continuing, "Plus, I'd doubt your younger brother would be too fond of me either."

George reached for your hand rested on the countertop, gripping it assuringly. "You're not a bad person."

"But I—"

"Y/N, you were never a bad person. Sure, your friend Malfoy might have been an ass, but that's not you. I saw you during the battle."

Your face heated up as you retracted your hand to bury your face in the palm. Recalling the events, you knew you had nothing to be proud of during that time. "Oh god, I know I left early into it but I swear I didn't want to."

George only gave a light chuckle upon noticing your distress. "I know, but that wasn't what I was referring to. I'm talking about how you shot down a Death Eater and was ready to do it again until your parents threatened you."

"You... saw that?" It was inconspicuous, a result of an impromptu decision to go against your parents and Voldemort. Though the bravery was shut down after a mere minute when they had warned there would be no mercy if you'd continue. It was tough to simply abandon the fighting students, but when wands were pointed directly to your temple, what more can be done?

With a small smile, he nodded, staring directly into your eyes. "Yeah, I did. It was quite admirable."

At this point, you were beyond elated. Face noticeably a blood-red shade, you were afraid to spill your guts to the charming fellow behind the counter.

"I— uh, I gotta go," you spluttered, diverting your eyes to the spectacular posters surrounding the main display. However, your words caused George to stand straight with a slight sense of urgency.

Rushing to the back room, he held up a finger to stop you from leaving. "Wait, I have something for you!"

Your flustered state was put on a brief pause as you peered curiously into the narrowly opened doorway. Once George emerged from the dim room moments later, you were surprised to see a small envelope in his hand.

"I didn't know what else to put the stuff in," he mumbled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he handed you the envelope. You clutched it tightly, your interest in its contents growing with each passing second.

"Thank you," you said, shifting your weight from side to side. Just as you were about to exit the store, George hopped over the counter and waved excitedly.

"Come again soon!" he shouted, the grin on his face matching the playful George Weasley you've always known back in Hogwarts. Biting your lip to prevent an overtly wide smile from arising, you nodded your head, pushing through the door as you internally squeal.

Later that night, once you arrived in your desolate apartment, you were quick to unseal the envelope and turn it upside down the reveal the contents.

First to fall was a piece of hastily ripped paper. The words were messily scribbled, though roughly understandable. Picking it up, a small giggle escaped your lips.

You must be a broom, cause you swept me off my feet.

Below the line was a phone number, your eyes widening upon catching sight of it. But before rushing to type it in, you emptied out the rest of the envelope. Only one other thing came out, causing you to beam with delight at the sheer nostalgia.

A bright red cherry lollipop, the very same kind you've spent years watching in the hands of George Weasley.

——————————

a/n — Ah I'm so glad I could finally write another imagine for one of the twins 😭 Please like, comment, and reblog to show support! Feel free to send requests or feedback in my asks. Thanks for reading!

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter one shot #my prompts #writing #harry potter #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagines #george weasley one shot #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fanfic #my imagines #weasley twins

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muriellive · 3 years

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If you, my dear reader, are Russian-speaking, then it will probably be easier for you to read this creation on the site "mangalib" or listen to this video:

youtube

A forgotten village on the outskirts of the Kingdom of Clover - Ankvar, the inhabitants of this village were completely killed during the invasion attempt of the warring kingdom of Diamond. Among its ruins, slowly moving his feet, a tall man of about twenty, wrapped in all black, was waddling about. On his head was a large-brimmed hat with a silvery pattern on the tips, and his face was covered with a torn dark blue mask.

Elbe (and that is what he was called) was looking for a certain magical beast, which, according to rumors, has been raging in the eastern lands of the kingdom for quite some time. Who and why asked him about it is not known, but the man was never interested in the reasons and motives of his customers. "There is money, and okay" - so he thought. Yes, exactly, Elbe was a hunter ... a bounty hunter.

The order this time was very strange: "I have not ordered animals yet ..." - he thought.

But, let's forget about this hunter for a minute and go a little further south ...

Faber is a city on the outskirts, standing at the intersection of trade routes. A young (in fact, not very much, 32 years old is too much) knight magician, straightening a grayish cape with a deer patch, happily blurted out:

- Eh, it was a wonderful day today! - Novakhrono, again running away from his duties, walked around the evening town.

- Look, this is Mr. Julius! Captain of the Gray Deer! - joyful children's voices were heard behind the knight. Responding to their exclamations, the blond turned around, putting on a wide smile on his face, which, it would seem, could banish all sadness and sadness with its one appearance.

- Yeah, kids! Also strive to become knight magicians?

To his rather unintelligent question, the children happily chorus answered "Yeah!"

- Knight mages are cool! - shouted the red-haired boy.

- Cool, huh? - Julius said thoughtfully.

- Yes exactly! When I become a knight-magician, I will be able to fight and attack dangerous opponents with my magic. - the boy rejoiced.

“W-well, this is…” Novachrono tried to explain that the duties of the Knights-Mages are completely different from a simple battle.

“How stupid…” came a high, childish voice, in which, however, there was a certain alarm. The future king of magicians stretched out his neck a little to make out the owner of light brown, tattered hair. Before his eyes appeared a tiny little inch, wrapped in a long scarf and looking towards the children with sad, frightened eyes.

- What ?! - the red-haired boy looked at the girl with an inflated and angry expression on his face. - Nobody asked you, ragamuffin!

- Well, well, don't. - Julius tried to settle the situation. However, here no one even listened to him: everyone sharply turned their gazes to the trembling little girl.

Unfortunately, this attitude was not unusual for her. Yes, it is understandable - the Clovers did not like foreigners, but for a four-year-old child it was very difficult to withstand such pressure.

- I w-wanted ... - the baby began quietly. - …to tell…

- What? - asked Novachrono.

- Knights-magicians, after all, first of all, assistants and only then warriors, right?

It seems to be a simple phrase, but what effect it had on Julius! At that moment, he thought: "really, the mouth of a baby speaks the truth!"

- Shut up, stranger, they didn't give you your word! - the redhead got angry, offended that he was interrupted. To which he immediately received a slap in the face from his mother, and then a reprimand. The woman, quietly apologizing for the bad behavior of her unlucky son, hastened to disperse the kids to their homes.

The captain of the "Gray Deer" shook his head and was about to leave, when he suddenly felt that his clothes were being pulled. He turned around and saw the thumb again. Now, when she stood a little closer, one could make out her, to put it mildly, "unkempt" clothes, disheveled hair and a filthy nose.

- What do you need?

The girl creased the hem of her cloak a little, and then wiggled her hand, indicating that Julius should bend down. Novachrono looked at the baby in bewilderment, but did not object. She began to whisper, barely audible:

- Could you see me off?

The captain of the Gray Deer was even more surprised!

- To carry out? What for?

- Oh, you do not be angry, knight-magician. - answered for the girl standing next to the old woman. - A girl and her brother came here to us, but he is all at work: where he rushes - do not understand! This animal has also been running around here ever since they arrived here ... - the elderly woman crossed herself at last and bowed and left.

"Animal?" - thought to himself the future King of Magicians. "They haven't reported this to the main headquarters ... I suppose we ought to stay here a little longer."

With these thoughts, Novakhrono took the girl by the arm and led her home ...

...

Well, have you already forgotten about him? And he had already managed to get to the village of Faber! Elbe walked a little loosely along the streets, between the wooden-stone buildings only 2-3 floors high. He could not find any signs of an attack: he could not find any scratches, no destruction or breakdowns, which means, most likely, the animal does not come to the village itself. “Perhaps he is whipping up the inhabitants on the outskirts,” Elbe flashed through his head.

- But you have a big village. - the hunter heard someone approaching him!

Without thinking twice, he ducked around the corner and listened. On the road to the outskirts of the village, there were two: a child and an adult man. Elbe recognized the captain of the Gray Deer at once, but he did not care about the girl at all. But this is only for now ...

“What is the strongest among the captains of the orders of the Knight Mages doing here? The task? Really, he also hunts the beast? " - the thug was nervous.

- Well, where is your brother? - asked the magician in a gray cape. - What is his profession?

- A? I dont know…

After these words, Julius became wary. Looks like he was a little worried about the girl.

- How long has he left?

- Hmm ... - she thoughtful ... - About two months already gone.

Novachrono's eyes widened in surprise: he looked at the baby with fear in his heart, realizing that there could be thousands more like her in their kingdom! And she walked with a light gait, full of hopes for the return of her brother ...

Having brought Natsuhi, and that was the name of the girl, to her house, which was half ruined, the man did not leave the village, as he had previously planned, but, on the contrary, decided to stay at a local hotel for a short while. Still, it's not a joke: who knows how many more people may suffer ...

Novachrono woke up not so early: at about nine in the morning, and then, not because he wanted to, but from a sudden noise outside. Without thinking twice, he dressed and with a quick and swift step went to the exit, where an unmeasurable number of fans had already gathered to gawk. Pushing aside the passers-by, Julius hurried into the depths of what was happening, where in the middle of the gazing lay a twenty-year-old boy, dressed in black clothes and with a mask on his face. Elb was badly wounded in the chest. Around him, in a barely noticeable whirlwind, swirled dark roc, particles similar to small birds that make up all the magic in this world. But what's strange is that usually they have only one color - white, the captain of the knights-magicians has never seen any other colors before in his life! Of course, the people around him didn't share the same excitement as he did, because they had too little mana to see these particles.

"Black ... from where?" Julius asked. - "It just can't be!"

“E...ars” Elba's whisper was barely audible, but Novachrono could still make out his words. - That girl ... - after hearing the "Gray Deer" fell into a stupor. The young man passed out and vryatli can wake up soon, but one thing was clear ...!

“N-Natsuhi…” The knight-magician decided to visit the girl in view of recent events. - Why did you and your brother leave your home country?

- A? I don’t know… ”She handed the man a saucer of cookies. He accepted and put it on the table, continuing to listen. - Aniki simply said that it became dangerous there, but why, I still did not understand ... - the baby puffed out her cheeks, lowered her eyes to the floor and raised her hand to her chin, thinking.

- Well, I'll go ... - the girl smiled, taking the rocker standing in the corner, and headed for the door.

- Wait a minute! Julius stopped her. - I will go with you. H-help, otherwise it's hard.

- Yes, not so ... - the fair-haired woman was a little surprised.

- No, no, you're a girl, and girls can't carry heavy things!

"You can't leave her alone ..."

...

- Here! See, I can do it myself! - The girl deftly lifted a bucket of water from the well, "hugging" it with her little hands ...

- Yeah ... - Julius clapped his hands. He tried not to show it, but it was clear that the captain was nervous when the little girl laughs so merrily and carefree, not suspecting anything ...

“Do I need to report this? Or is it better to deal with it quietly? " - the magician reflected. Deciding to write a report, Julius first called his confidant, Marcus, to keep order in the village and paid special attention to protecting Natsuhi. He suspected that it was for her that the mysterious beast was hunting.

...

Elb had been in the hospital for about two weeks. I did not even think to regain consciousness! While he was passed out, images kept popping up in his head: as if a tape had been inserted, but there were clearly gaps in it. But he clearly remembered that very night - the battle was clearly not an easy one ... Ears, more like a cat's, gray eyes and a distorted semi-human silhouette. The hunter has never met such a monster ...

Soryy for such an abrupt narration)

Night. Quiet and calm, starry. However, Novakhrono was in no hurry to surrender to the sweet embrace of Morpheus. He was sitting at a table in a huge luxurious hall, crowned with columns of the Doric order and pondering over the latest events, which had managed to stir up his imagination so well: on the one hand, he was interested to look at a new, hitherto unseen type of magic, on the other, “why exactly Natsuhi? "

This question still haunted him. "What's so special about her?"

Then a white flat image suddenly appeared over his head, which, in bright streams of light, scattered from the middle to the edges, disappearing. It was the magic of Marcus, although he himself, for some reason, was not visible. Usually his communication magic will display an accurate image of himself in a second, but this time it was different, which made Julius tense up! The window slightly trembled and blinked, and then disappeared altogether, after a barely intelligible sound of words came from there. The blond immediately stood up in amazement and, commanding the black-haired boy to get ready and call for reinforcements, instantly went to Cob (Cob Portaport is a spatial magician shown in chapter 113 of the manga and in episode 73 of the anime. He seemed to help Finral with training), so that he could transfer him to the village.

Meanwhile, in the settlement itself, something crazy was happening everywhere: Elb, standing on the main street and holding a barrel of oil in his hands, spilling its contents and setting it on fire! The people around fell into a panic and, shouting and begging for help, ran madly to the outskirts of the village.

- Ha ha! Right! Run, save your pitiful lives!

The fire was arranged by him in order to drive the residents out of this village before the beast, which was already raging in full force in the center, killed everyone. But now a dark silhouette has already burst into the local church! The long, long hair that hid his face hung in strands dirty and slightly scorched from fire. Bright gray eyes darting from side to side and curved limbs with claws. All wounds that would not have inflicted on him instantly healed!

"And how to fight such a monster ?!"

Elb threw the keg at the monster and threw a lighted match. The oil flared up sharply and the fire covered the entire body of the evil spirits, from which it began to wriggle in agony with piercing screams. But even the flame was not able to defeat the monster! It burned, but did not die! The body of this chkdisha completely recovered, even no burns remained.

"This is clearly not a regeneration," Elbe wondered.

Distraught with rage, the monster attacked the hunter, causing both of them to fly a rather long distance. Elb, before landing instantly, purely on reflexes, pulled a small dagger from the sleeve of his uniform and tried to get rid of the attacker by striking a blow. Surprisingly, it worked: when it fell, the monster recoiled from the young man back. Grasping the wound inflicted in the neck, it screamed pitifully!

"Here it is!" - thought the hunter, - "Weak point".

He was already preparing to strike a second blow, crushing! How suddenly I felt that all sounds suddenly disappeared! The flame that had recently destroyed the village went out ... there was a deathly silence. The beast writhed and groaned in pain. Elb just for a second looked away from her to look around, but, concentrating on his goal, he attacked and then the monster suddenly disappeared, and instead of him ...

...

The hunter tried to hit him again with his metal magic, but a steel shield appeared in the stranger's hand in a strange way. Or rather, not quite a shield, rather just a mass of steel. The stranger passed his right hand through the air, quickly sketching some symbols. Suddenly the ground cracked and water burst out from under it in violent streams. It's just that a huge amount of water filled the whole area. Then it felt like the skin was colitis. A bright flash of lightning rippled across the water surface and instantly struck Elb ...

After what time a detachment of "Gray Deer" arrived at the scene of recent events, but neither the monster, nor the fire, nor that strange stranger in the silly mask was gone. And only the wounded bounty hunter lay, unable to get up, in the middle of the empty street, remembering the words: "Save me, brother" ...

#BC #black clover #magi #magi labyrinth of magic #magi kingdom of magic #julius novachrono #natsuhi #marx francois #Youtube

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inorganicone2230 · 4 years

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All That Led Us Here (Part 1) Yandere!Overhaul x Fem!Reader

Part 2

Summary: Orphaned at the tender age of six, you are taken in and raised by The Head of The Shie Hassaikai along with his young son, Kai, who takes a strange and immediate interest in you, to an obsessive degree... one that only seems to grow as the years go by. A life with him and The Yakuza is all you've ever known, but is it all you really want? Kai would certainly have you believe so, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you never question it.

Warnings: None for this chapter, in fact, the first few will be relatively tame as we build up to the darker chapters later on, but I will make note of them as they pop up per chapter.

Side Note’s: Just a few quick things to help give you an idea as to how this AU’s world is set up. So first off, there are no quirks in this world, so that means that the Yakuza clans are still strong, wealthy and a huge influence in the Japanese underworld, unlike in the cannon version, and the Shie Hassaikai are one of the biggest if not THE biggest. Second, Kai is The Big Bosses biological son and not just some street rat that he took in. Since we never actually learn the old guys name, I figure that it can easily be played around with to suit the needs of this story and Kai’s looks can be explained by saying that he takes after his deceased mom. And finally, Eri will NOT be making an appearance in this story as of yet.

And as always, I want to give a BIG thank you to my amazing friend @talpup for all the brainstorming and encouragement on these stories! I’m sure I would have given up on this blog a while ago if it wasn't for all of their help. I highly encourage anyone who takes the time to read this to go over to their page or their AO3 account under the same name and check out their works, especially Chaos and Erase The Shadow. They are two of my favorite BNHA fics of ALL TIME!

Kai could still remember the first day he met you, no matter how much time passed or how many years flew by, that day was always going to be crystal clear in his mind.

It was the middle of a sweltering hot summer and his father, the head of the notorious Yakuza clan, The Shie Hassaikai, had received a call from an old friend asking him to come visit him on his deathbed in a nearby town. His father had immediately left, but returned just a few days later.

Only, he wasn’t alone when he came back…

It was already early evening when Kai, who was ten at that point, heard the commotion coming from downstairs and had gone outside with all the others to greet his father when he arrived home and was just as shocked, though he hid it very well, as everyone else to see that he had a little girl no older than six with him.

A tiny little thing wearing a purple sundress and hiding behind his father’s legs while she trembled like a leaf. She was so small that, if it weren’t for the quiet little whimpers coming from her, she may have gone completely unnoticed and Kai couldn’t help but idly wonder who she was and what she was doing with his father.

“Kai?” His father had called out to him once he was spotted by the gate. “Come over here Son, there’s someone you need to meet.”

Kai, being the well behaved and dutiful son that he was, immediately went to his father. He couldn’t deny that he was curious as to who the little girl was and even a stoic child like him was still prone to childlike tendencies every now and then.

“What is it Pops?” He asked, his voice already showing signs of deepening despite his young age. And since he had recently hit a growth spurt, he was easily a good foot or so taller than the little girl currently clinging to his father’s hakama.

His father stepped aside to reveal the child to him in full as he gazed down at her with a look of of care and pity. “Kai, this is (Y/N), she’s the daughter of a dear old friend of mine who recently passed away and she’s going to be living with us from now on.” His father reached down to pat you on the head and Kai knew from experience just how comforting that hand could be in a stressful situation, though he’d likely choke on those words if he ever tried to admit them out loud. “She’s family now, so I want you to look out for her. Ya hear me boy?”

Kai had nodded in agreement without a moment's hesitation, he was always eager to please his father no matter what the task was, though, to be honest, Kai had no real experience dealing with kids his own age, let alone one so much younger than himself. He tended to avoid the idiots at his school, they were always running around, getting filthy and he wanted no part in that, and it’s not like there were any other kids that lived in the compound for him to interact with. Hell, there hadn’t even been a woman living there since his mother died nearly eight years prior.

Kai snapped himself out of his own thoughts when he heard his father speak again, seems he wasn’t done talking just yet.

Kai watched as his father gave you another pat on the head as this time, he addressed you directly, his voice much softer and kinder than Kai could ever remember it being. Perhaps it was because you were a girl, or maybe it was because he felt sorry for the situation you were in, your father had just died after all. Either way, this was a side to his old man that he only ever saw when he talked about his late wife, so this was a rather surreal experience for the young boy.

“(Y/N), this brat here is my son, Kai.” He said, motioning his head towards the golden eyed boy. “If you need anything at all and you can’t find me, I want you to go straight to him, alright? This is going to be your home from now on and that means that you can just think of him as your big brother if that makes it easier.”

You had been looking at the ground for the majority of the time, but when you briefly glanced up to meet his gaze, Kai couldn’t help but feel drawn to the big (e/c) eyes that seemed to take up the majority of your chubby little face. They were wide and full of fear, but also a great deal of curiosity as you took in your new surroundings.

You gave him a small, barely there nod of your head as you mumble out a quick response, your voice just as tiny as you were in stature. “N-Nice to m-meet you Kai-san. I’ll try n-not to be a b-bother for you.” And then your eyes are back on the ground and Kai is left with a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach as he uncharacteristically thinks that he wants you to look at him again, and for longer this time.

The old boss tries to muster up a weak smile in the hopes that it will put you at ease. “I’m sure the two of you will get along just fine once you get used to each other. Now, why don’t we go have some dinner and then get you off to bed? It’s been a long few days and I’m sure you’ll feel a bit better in the morning.”

With affirmative nods from both children, nothing more is said as everyone is urged to get back to their usual duties despite talk over who the unexpected new addition to the household is and where she came from.

—————

Later on that night, after a quiet dinner was shared amongst the three, Kai went off back to his room and quietly continued to work on his summer homework. Pops was insistent that he keep up his grades, inciting that just because he was set to inherit the role as head of a mob family, that didn’t mean that he was allowed to be an ignorant fool with no brains to back himself up, and Kai was inclined to agree, there was only one thing he hated more than filth and that was stupidity and a general lack of common sense.

Tonight however, this usually easy task was proving to be just a tad bit harder to stay focused on.

The main reason?

He can hear your soft cries from down the hall in your new room and it’s proving to be rather distracting. Not that you were being overly loud, but thin walls and shoji screen doors don’t provide much in the way of soundproofing or insulation. And with the two of you bring the only ones living on this floor, his old man's room being situated one floor above and everyone else further down, it was even more quiet than a normal house.

Without really stopping to think about what he was doing, Kai got up from his desk and left his room to wander down the hall until he found himself quietly standing outside your door. He debated with himself for about thirty seconds before he made the abrupt decision to just open the door uninvited.

There you were, curled up on an unfamiliar bed that was definitely way too big for someone so tiny, your shoulders shaking even as your head shot up at the sudden sound of sliding wood and big fat crocodile tears continued to roll silently down your cheeks.

“U-Um… w-what are-”

“You’ve been crying.” Kai interrupted you.

You looked down, he really wished you’d stop doing that, almost as if you were ashamed to have it pointed out so bluntly.

“I’m so-sorry, I w-won’t do it a-again, I pro-promise.” You managed to get out between more sniffles.

Kai normally hated the sound of crying, it was like nails on a chalkboard to him and he attributed it to weakness, yet another thing that he so deeply detested. But, he supposed that given the events you had likely been subjected to over the course of the last few days, your blatant display of emotion was understandable, if not outright expected of you.

And besides, he thought, he knew what it was like to lose a parent, but he still had his old man at least, that was more than could be said for you, you didn’t have anyone.

No one but him and Pops…

Kai wouldn’t be able to properly articulate to himself what it really was, not until he was older and understood himself a bit better, but he felt an odd sensation swell up in his chest at the thought of you relying on him, of you needing him, he liked the idea of you staring up at him with those big watery eyes and asking him for help, begging him to make the hurt go away.

But more than that, he wanted to be the reason you smiled. He had yet to see a smile grace your face, but he knew that he wanted to be it’s cause when it did finally happen, or at the very least, he wanted to be the first one to see it.

It was a strange feeling, and not one he was at all used to, but Kai was a pragmatic child and rarely ever second guessed himself once his mind had settled on an idea. His father often told him that if he continued to cultivate that trait, it would make him an even better boss than him someday.

And to that end, he did what his father would expect of him…

“Do you… want me to stay with you, until you fall asleep?”

The two of you stared at each other for roughly a minute before you mutely nodded your head and Kai silently made his way over to your bed, easily climbing onto the tall mattress and sitting upright against the headboard while you laid your head back down on the pillow.

Kai never took his eyes off your face.

“Thank you Kai.” You mumbled sleepily, your swollen, puffy eyes already drooping as sleep threatened to finally claim you.

He wasn’t really great at comforting others, not that he had ever tried, so he acted on pure instinct, reaching out and taking your tiny hand in his own and closing his fist around it, an act that both shocked and astounded him, though he never let go of your hand regardless of that.

It had been so long since he had touched anyone else that he’d almost forgotten what another person’s skin could feel like and despite his steadily growing aversion to physical contact, he didn’t feel even the slightest bit of disgust when he felt your skin against his own. In fact, it was no different than if he was reaching up to touch the flesh of his own face.

Kai knew that this had to mean something, he just didn’t know what that something was just yet.

But he could figure it out, he thought, gazing down at your peaceful face as he brushed some of your hair behind your ear. This was your home now, and he had all the time in the world to learn what it was about you that seemed to set you apart from the rest of the filthy world.

—————

About an hour later, Kai was just beginning to feel his own eyes drop as sleep fought to overtake his senses when he heard a shuffling sound by the still open door and, looking up, he wasn’t all that surprised to find his father standing there in the doorway.

The Boss couldn’t sleep and so he decided to wander down and check on his new charge, he was already beating himself up for leaving you alone in a dark, unfamiliar room. He half expected to find you still awake and crying, however, what he found instead was something far more surprising than anything he could have imagined on his own.

You weren’t crying, in fact, you were sound asleep. Sound asleep and holding his sons hand, his son who hated all unnecessary physical contact. To say he was surprised was an understatement, he never would have expected to find a scene like this, not in a million years.

Kai meanwhile, couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit annoyed that his time alone with you was being interrupted. How was he supposed to think and ponder these new developments if he was being distracted by his father’s eyes boring holes into him.

But, he supposed this could have it’s own benefits, now that they were alone, he could ask his father some questions that have been plaguing his mind since he first arrived home.

“Why is she here Pops?” He asked quietly, never taking his eyes off your sleeping face.

The Boss was not the kind of man that believed in treating his son with kid gloves, he told him how things were in a very direct manner and rarely ever beat around the bush when talking to him. He was going to be taking over one of the most powerful Yakuza clans in the country and he couldn’t afford to have his only son and heir be a spineless weakling. Some might call him cruel for laying so much on a young child’s shoulders, but he knew just how fast he could be swallowed whole if he didn’t possess the necessary moral fiber to stand on his own two feet in this dangerous world he was set to rule in. It might not seem like it, but he loved his son and wanted to see him succeed and push the clan further then even he had.

“Her father was an old friend of mine from back in the day.” He began and leaned one of his large, broad shoulders against the door-frame. “He wasn’t a criminal, in fact, he was a pretty average guy. But he helped me out of more tight spots in our youth then I care to remember and despite knowing about my Yakuza heritage, he never dwelled on it or judged me for it.”

Kai watched as a look of sorrow passed across his father’s face, something that only ever happened when he thought about his mother and he realized it must have meant that he really cared about this dead man, whoever he was.

“We lost touch over the years, but when I got that call from him, asking me to come see him on his deathbed, I knew I owed it to him to go and send him off.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “When I got there, I found out what it was he wanted from me. His last wish was that his only child, his daughter, be raised by someone he knew and trusted. Neither he, nor his deceased wife had any known living family that could take her in. So it was either I take custody of the girl, or she gets put in the system. Clearly you can see what my decision was.”

Kai suspected that there was more to the story than that, but he got what he wanted so he didn’t press for anymore then that.

“So, you want to tell me what you’re doing here in the middle of the night?” His father questioned him.

Kai still had yet to look away from you and to be honest, he really didn’t want to. “She was crying.”

“So you came in here to check on her?”

“Something like that.” Kai murmured, his usual monotone still firmly in place. “She’s different than the others, she’s clean and I don’t feel sick being near her. I can even touch her.”

It was nearly pitch black in the room but there was just enough light streaming in from the hallway that allowed him to see his sons face, and what he saw there nearly had him busting out laughing, but he refrained for fear of ruining whatever it was that was happening to the boy.

Kai was blushing.

It was small and faint, but the tops of his cheeks were definitely looking a bit darker than usual.

And this seemingly innocuous turn of events sparked an idea in his mind, one that he would need to put some serious thought into, he couldn’t just rush something like this without analyzing it from all angles, but it was an option that could ultimately lead to his child’s, no, his children’s future happiness.

“So I take it you’re not going to be having a problem with her being here?”

Kai looked down at you, at the steady rise and fall of your chest and the way you curled in on yourself. He took in the way you nuzzled your face just a bit closer to him and he found comfort in your soft little breaths that he could feel against him arm.

So, did he have a problem with you?

“I’ll take care of her.”

I hope you all enjoyed this! Please let me know what you thought if you have the time!

#yandere!overhaul #yandere!overhaul x reader #kai chisaki #kai chisaki x reader #fem!reader #reader insert #young kai chisaki #no quirks au #yandere bnha #yakuza

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maddenedsanctity · 4 years

Text

seducibly so. (Sylvain X Reader)

✦ Fire Emblem : Three Houses

✦ Sylvain José Gautier x Fem!Reader

✦ Soulmate AU

✦ Soulmates are not so easy to see - some say that is the fun part of this curious matchmaking system. But sometimes, the quote on one’s forearm is easily identified. There is only one person who could be so bold and flirty in the monastery, after all.

≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡

Soulmates, soulmates, soulmates.

They were the talk of the monastery, those two fated students who had recently found out they were the perfect fit for eachother, according to the quotes that graced their skin. They bore the words of the other, and as romantic as it was - the women of the Black Eagles could not leave the subject alone, at all. All of the girls, except Y/N. Labeled as the bookworm of the class, her wisdom was comparable to Linhardt’s or Seteth’s- No wonder, she thought. She spent her days trapped inside the library of Garreg Mach, always studying, always learning whatever books could provide her. She was that of a sponge for knowledge.

It wasn’t as if Y/N did not know about soulmates - in fact, she was, very possibly, the one who had invested the most time researching them. Her gaze had recently been set on it, and her scriptures were all about the odd miracle of finding your other half. Words embedded onto one’s skin, a sudden cure for monochromacy...Hell, she even read about a timer in a person’s wrist, counting down until the moment they’d find their ideal lover.

“If only.” Y/N spat, closing the book she was reading in an abrupt manner, gazing at the title written in gold. “The Staggering world of soulmates.” She scowled lowly, placing the book on top of the other ones she had read that late night. It was time to hit the hay.

She walked slowly, the dim (or almost non-existent) light that the monastery held at night was, in Y/N’s eyes, a blissful moment. Scary? Perhaps - yet it was nevertheless soothing. Her train of thought got stopped abruptly as her eyes spotted a mess of fiery red hair, and was met by an equally passionate stare.

The moment their gazes met, the man winked, and a confident grin made its way to his face as his crimson eyes managed to catch the female’s flushed cheeks.

And then she fled the scene.

There was something about that man that made Y/N question her feelings towards him. She never spoke to him, but the winks, smiles, silent gestures of seduction never seemed to disappear.

“I’m putting too much thought into it.” She muttered, as she got dressed for the day, buttoning her uniform up neatly before exiting her room.

As she made her way to the dining hall, her mind ran last night’s events one more time. It was a simple wink. Why was it oh so relevant? A mere wink, from the monastery’s greatest skirt-chaser? Y/N looked at her forearm, covered by the golden sleeves of her uniform.

Perhaps it was the fear of having him as a soulmate. The quote was far too fitting for him - she quickly raised the sleeve of her coat. It was written in a quick and airy handwriting, the holder of these words didn’t like to write very much.

“Depends. Are you seducible?” It read.

The woman winced and covered it instantly. That was very Sylvain-esque.

But why was a future with that man such a gloomy end in Y/N’s eyes? Putting his flirty personality, seeming lack of loyalty, sharp tongue and shamelessness aside...he looked nice.

Right. He did.

Y/N shook her head. She had lost enough time dwelling on someone, and her breakfast was finished. Lessons for today were about to start, no time for slacking off-

And when she raised her stare from the now empty wooden bowl, she was once again met with the flaming gaze of the man. Who, mind you, was getting even bolder in Y/N’s point of view. It wasn’t just a wink now, no- a wink, a grin, and a small nod of acknowledgement were sent her way.

Oh, this was it. She could feel her cheeks flush, breath hitch and nerves arise; and that is why she scrambled off (albeit gracefully, of course.) to the Black Eagles’ class. She would find out the reason of his constant advances. Sooner or later, she’d confront him.

And she’d find out they were, in fact, not soulmates.

Night had fallen.

Y/N followed her usual routine; study, chat, study, eat, study, sleep. Yet, it felt odd - she could not focus, not at all, nor could she get that annoying wink and even more nerve-wracking smile out of her head. She was not mad at Sylvain, more so at her own psyche, for she had allowed herself to become infatuated by the overtures of someone like Sylvain - the same winks and smiles he sent to every woman in the monastery.

Y/N, what a fool you are...What a fool.

Yet, surrounded by books in the late night, Y/N could find some serenity within her mind if only for a short while, aware that the moment she felt drowsy, she’d have to tread the nocturnal path to her room, and find Sylvain wandering around there, as well.

It all came back to him, of course.

Y/N grunted. Because that’s all she could do, fatigue overcoming her senses and driving her body towards the warm bed she longed for. The final walk of the day - off to face the crimson succubus Gautier had become.

The woman was wary of an enemy that was not even dangerous. Ironically so, the usually peaceful path had become a journey to find the man and finally set things straight, to forget this silly crush.

But what was she to do, once they had found eachother? She pressed a hand on her chin, humming to herself. Surely, Y/N would speak first, and she’d make a statement so cutting that he’d have no way to respond. That way, it’d be impossible for him to be her soulmat-

And then she crashed against something, no, someone. How cliché of her.

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, silently praying it’d be someone like Hubert, or Dedue, so they could exchange silent apologies and then forget such a thing ever happened; but no.

It had to be Sylvain José Gautier himself.

And the moment the girl looked up with the flustered face of an infatuated victim, is when Sylvain flashed one of his smooth smirks, the wink was not included - she didn’t want her to faint right there, after all.

Nevertheless, instead of receiving the usual ‘Oh, Sylvain!’ or ‘I’m so sorry, Sylvain!’ of the enamored females of the monastery, he was met with an off-putting response. Bold, and oblivious.

Y/N frowned, quickly latching off of his chest and breathing a couple times before mustering up the strength to talk to the man, seemingly unfazed by all this.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

She spoke, her tone serious, and her face as red as his hair - it made him chuckle quite a bit, considering the only thing he’d sent her way were a couple of winks and smiles; for the sole purpose of witnessing her flustered state before vanishing off somewhere.

Y/N didn’t give herself time. From a crimson red to a pale white, the woman instantly cursed herself for such an easy question. She instinctively clutched her forearm, praying to the Goddess those words were not his own.

“Depends. Are you seducible?”

Oh, no.

#Fire Emblem Three Houses #fire emblem #fanfic #requests open #sylvain jose gautier #soulmate AU #reader #x reader #FE16 #fe:th #fe: three houses #sylvain #reader insert

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stilessdylanobae-ddixonlove · 4 years

Text

Surviving The Walking Dead - The Enemy (Chapter 14)

Author: @stilessdylanobae-ddixonlove

Characters: Daryl Dixon, Dog, Michonne, Negan, Lydia, Maggie Rhee, Baby Hershel, Carol Peletier, Aaron and Reader.

Summary: Y/n returns to Alexandria with Michonne after learning about the attack on Lydia. The council is to make a decision about Negan’s fate. Y/n and Lydia learn the truth about Negan’s past actions from Maggie.

Note: This was a difficult chapter to write. I knew we needed the others to explain what Negan did and why he received a life sentence as a prisoner. But actually doing so was not easy. I hope I did an okay job, at least. Lucky for me those reading this have most likely seen the show and know exactly what happened making it easier to understand. Also, seeing yourself as a possible enemy to the group, yet not wanting to be is such an interesting take. I hope you don’t hate it.

As always, some conversations are the same as or very similar to those that took place in AMC’s The Walking Dead. I DO NOT take credit for those.

Warning: Cursing, mention of very violent acts and killing, threatening dialogue, painful triggers and some slow burn.

Chapter Fourteen - Chapter Fifteen

After the council met to discuss what to do with Negan since Margo’s death, Daryl went to visit him in his cell, feeling rather torn. The door squeaked shut as the brooding man made his way inside the jail and over to the metal bars that enclosed his long time enemy. Negan laid on his lumpy bed within it, his eyes closed and arms folded across his chest. He was feeling just as tormented by the recent horrific events and wondered about his future, until sighing loudly at his visitor’s presence.

“How’s the kid?” Negan asked, remaining still.

“She’s banged up, but she’ll be alright.” Daryl replied, much calmer than the last time they’d spoke. He reached an arm out and grabbed hold of the bars to Negan’s cell to steady himself. “You know the people out there are talking about putting you down? Saying Rick ain’t around to save you no more.” He spoke, fiercely. Negan sat up on his bed, slowly listening.

“If you came here looking for a confession, keep walking.” Negan enforced, clenching his jaw. “It was an accident and for the record, screw her. She was a goddamn asshole beating on a kid. The world’s better off.” He said, shaking his head while Daryl remained silent.

Negan squinted his eyes curiously. “But you already know that, don’t you?” He then continued. Daryl glared hard while Negan snickered. “You came down here to look me in the eye because you don’t know what to do with me. Shit, all that time you spent fantasizing about my death, all that time you spent actually trying to kill me and now look at you, you’re not so sure.” Negan continued.

“You listen to me.” Daryl stepped closer and put his face to the bars. “You and I ain’t never been in a room before. Not toe to toe and there ain’t nobody to save you right now.” He threatened.

“So, what do you want me to do Daryl? Stay away from them? Stay away from your girls?” Negan grinned, a certain sadness to it that sat on the edges of his lips.

“That’s a start.” Daryl grimaced.

“You and I both know those people out there are out for blood.” Negan pointed to the outside window. “It doesn’t matter now.” He said, defeated.

“Why help Lydia? You ain’t no hero.” Daryl questioned, stepping back to pace the room, not feeling any better.

“No, I’m not. I’m a sucker.” Negan noted. Daryl stopped walking and tilted his head in wonder. “See, I started believing in your way of life. Your moral code. Hell, you even gave me a little taste of freedom just so you could yank it away when I actually did the right thing.” He continued. Daryl stared long and hard and Negan looked to the ground, uncomfortably rubbing his hands together.

“Well, your gonna get your chance to tell your side.” Daryl finally said, revealing his true intentions for now.

“Now who’s the sucker.” Negan grumbled as Daryl left.

_______________

Later that morning, you and Michonne had returned to Alexandria together since helping at Hilltop. She went home while you entered Carol’s house forcefully and stopped at the staircase.

“Carol?” You hollered up them. Then you walked to the living room entry way and peered inside. “Lydia?” You hollered some more, a tad frantic. Finally, you heard foot steps marching down the stairs so you ran to return to them. It was Daryl. He stopped midway down at the sight of you. “Where’s Lydia?” You finally and awkwardly asked him, crossing your arms. She then appeared at the top of the staircase, the left side of her face was a little black and blue and she held her stomach as she walked. You looked back to Daryl and finally sighed in relief.

“I’m okay.” She told you, making her way downstairs. You gently pulled her in for a hug. “You didn’t have to come back.”

“What are you talking about?” You questioned her logic. “What happened?” Carol appeared from her bedroom door rubbing her eyes, having been woken up by the sudden commotion.

“Those asshole kids happened.” Carol informed you.

“But Negan saved me.” Lydia stated.

“What?” You uncomfortably licked your lips.

“Negan saved my life.” Lydia repeated. You lowered your arms away from your chest and waited further for an explanation.

_________________

Later that afternoon, when Lydia had finished explaining what happened the night Margo was killed, Daryl sat on the porch outside with Dog. You watched him through the window as he pulled out a cigarette and placed it in his mouth to light. You were sure he felt just as awful as you did.

You sent Lydia back upstairs to rest and stay out of sight for awhile, knowing everyone in Alexandria would be talking and it would be hard for her. You thanked Carol for letting her stay and slowly reached for the front door knowing that Daryl was still sitting just outside of it. He immediately looked up to see you. It stung a little, sending a sudden shock through your body. He hadn’t really looked at you in days. You looked to your feet as you tried to repress the pain.

“I’m glad she’s okay. I’m glad both of you are.” You calmly said, brushing your y/h/c hair behind your ear. He took another puff of his cigarette and exhaled the smoke with a nod.

“Yeah, me too.” He finally spoke to you, his voice shaky. You began to make your way down the steps and prepared to leave. But then you stopped and turned back to him in wonder.

“Do you believe her?” You asked, hoping he’d at least talk to you about Lydia, whom you both had grown to love and care for indefinitely. He took another puff of his cigarette, then rubbed it out in the plant beside him.

“Mhm.” He unhappily admitted. You stepped back onto Carol’s steps and sat down, leaning against the railing and rested your arms on your knees. You stared at him, while he refused to make eye contact with you once again. “Look Daryl, I didn’t know he was alive. I haven’t seen him in years, for all I knew every last one of the Saviors was taken out.” You sighed. “And it wasn’t a real marriage.”

“It don’t matter.” He revealed. Looking at you with immense pain and anger in his eyes, his breathing increased as he spoke. You wondered what that really meant or if he even cared anymore. “You don’t know what he’s done; what he’s capable of.” He snapped.

“How do you figure?” You threw back. “I lived with him for a long time, spent a lot of time with him. I watched him torture people first hand. I know who he is.” You replied. The idea of you living with Negan, as mentioned, only angered him more. The idea of you standing by his side after everything he had done forced or not, was something that Daryl couldn’t think about.

“No, Y/n!” He hollered, standing up from his seat. “You don’t know what he did to us!” Dog whined and laid down beside you.

“So tell me.” You cried, petting your worried furry friend. But Daryl only shook his head and stormed off. “That’s it then?” You yelled after him, referring to your relationship with him as well as the conversation you’d been having.

He slowed his pace and slightly turned back.

“What do you want me to say?” He asked.

“I just want you to talk to me.” You told him. “Say something.”

“I can’t.” He simply replied. And that’s truly how he felt. He wasn’t good at talking. Or feeling; or really expressing himself at all. He looked at you sincerly, the fear circling around his deep blue eyes.

And then he left. And you watched him walk away, both of you unsure of just about everything.

_____________

Somehow, you found yourself heading straight for Negan after talking with Daryl. Lydia had told you he was back to being locked up and she was worried about what might happen to him in the days to come. You came to an abrupt halt, thinking strongly about turning around and wondering if it was all just an act. You told yourself that one good deed couldn’t eliminate all the bad he’s ever done. But ultimately you couldn’t help yourself and continued on to face him next. Once again the door let off a loud squeak as it came closed and Negan took a deep and exaggerated breath at the sound of it.

“Can’t a guy catch a break?” He whined without looking, back to laying in his bed. You grabbed the key to his cell off the desk in the far right corner of the room, placed it in the lock and let yourself inside. As metal door closed behind you, he finally looked up, a bit startled.

“Oh.” He sat up. “Hello, Princess.”

“Stop with that.” You scolded. He rubbed his hands together awkwardly and looked to the ground, defeated. You crinkled your brow at his reaction and then went to sit next to him. “You’re really worried aren’t you?” You questioned. He looked to you with a fake smile and gestured his hands out, pressed his lips together to confirm your suspicion and then put them back together, clutching them tightly. “It’s not a good look on you.” You teased. He chuckled quietly. “Lydia told me everything.” You began. He sighed.

“Listen, I-” He began before you put a hand up to silence him.

“Put this in the do not discuss pile for now, but she’s saying you helped and I believe her.” You interrupted. He looked to you, searching your eyes. He seemed calm and somewhat relieved. He felt grateful to you.

“Well, you might be the only one.” He said, graciously. “Why though?” He wondered. The truth was, what you told Daryl was true. You had seen first hand what he was capable of and the pain he often inflicted. But you’d also seen a side of him he tried to keep dormant. The side that loved and felt things for children like Lydia. You kept staring at him, directly into his hazel eyes while they searched your calm expression, feeling things about you he hadn’t felt in a long time. Things he’d tried to push down and keep out for as long as he’d known you. Things that you pretended not to know he struggled with. “Does Daryl know you believe me? I’m sure that’ll really piss him off.” He asked, seriously. You looked to the ground.

“I’m not so sure it matters anymore.” You mumbled.

“I don’t get you two anyway, he’s a lone wolf. And I’m pretty sure he likes it that way.” Negan noted.

“Maybe you’re right.” You replied. There was a pause. “Negan, why are you here in the first place? What did you do to these people?” You finally asked.

“How did you escape the Sanctuary?” He countered. You deadpanned him.

“Why have you been a prisoner here this whole time?” You asked again, determined.

“Maybe we should add that to the do not discuss pile.” He scratched the back of his head.

“You know I’ll find out one way or another, especially if you want me to help you.” You taunted. He grinned.

“I don’t.” He admitted. You squinted, questionably. “And seeing as this may be the end for me, I wanna tell you something.” He swallowed harshly. You scowled at the thought. “I’m sorry.” He said.

“What?” You quickly responded, looking back to him in surprise. “I’m sorry for everything that happened to you since knowing me. The truth is, you were someone I never wanted to hurt and I know I did. We both know I’m not a good person.” He admitted with a shrug. You swallowed nervously, then looked to your feet as you questioned what to say next.

“I’ll do what I can to help you. For Lydia.” You assured him. He shook his head.

“You helping me can only end badly for you.” He stated. You replied with a careless shrug, knowing you were already on the dark side. He eventually grinned, sensing your frustration and reached up to put his hand on the left side of your cheek and moved your face closer to his. He slowly, hesitantly leaned in and gave you a soft and delicate kiss on the lips.

When you finally opened your eyes, he had scooted away. “Goodbye, Y/n.” He said, looking to the ground. It really seemed as though he’d given up. You quickly stood, unable to properly react to everything that just took place and left, locking him back inside all alone.

When you got outside you were quickly distracted from your thoughts by a large crowd forming by the front gate. More people walked by to investigate while you simply watched from afar. Daryl sat, whittling at a piece of wood and trying to clear his head when he too looked up and noticed someone entering Alexandria’s doors as the crowd grew larger.

It was Maggie, holding baby Hershel in a sling around her chest as she road a horse into Alexandria. Aaron helped her dismount and walked with her back to the council room. When they reached the doorway you spotted Michonne there waiting. Carol appeared and hugged her tight with a smile, then Michonne spotted Daryl and nodded at him to come join before closing the door behind them.

You felt left out.

But her visit was a surprise to everyone. Daryl could see you watching them disappear inside and sighed. He had a hunch as to why she was here and wanted you and Lydia to know as well. He approached you slowly, his footsteps startling you. You couldn’t bare what might happen if he found out Negan just kissed you. You felt guilty. Yet, angry with him at the same time for not even trying to fix things with you.

“Come on.” He mumbled to you, inviting you along with him to find out what was going on. You stared as he walked passed you and away from the council meeting. Then he turned back and noticed your apparent confusion. “I want Lydia to come too.” He responded, simply. So you followed him back to Carol’s place to get her before meeting up with the others.

_____________

You, Daryl and Lydia all entered the council room together to see Maggie sitting on the floor with Hershel while the others had gathered around them. You walked in mid-conversation and heard her say one thing before she noticed the three of you join.

“I’m here to cast my vote on Negan.” Maggie said. Her eyes met yours then Daryl’s, who took a deep breath. His eyes were glossy, his posture uncertain. Then Maggie looked to Lydia and stared at her, disapproval spread across her face before she looked back to the whole room. “I left to get away from it all, but things are happening again. I deserve some say.” She said. “I’m sure most of you know and understand what my vote is.”

“Maggie, we’re still trying to understand exactly what happened.” Michonne stated.

“Is that why she’s here?” Maggie asked, looking back to Lydia. The teen frowned. “He should’ve died a long time ago. I’ll enforce that belief, same as before. Why should anyone else get killed?”

“But, Negan saved my life.” Lydia stepped up. Maggie sighed loudly, her words hard to hear. Maggie looked up to Daryl.

“They don’t know everything, do they?” Maggie asked her old friend. Daryl shook his head, saddened.

“I wanted you to tell them.” He admitted. She looked back to her son, who cooed and smiled at his mother. She smiled right back, trying to earn the courage to explain her view on Negan and his future here.

“Well, for starters he held Daryl captive for months, left him in a dark and cold room. No bathroom, no showers, little food and no human interaction. They tortured him.” Daryl gritted his teeth as Maggie looked to only you now. “He tortured him. Trying to get him to come to his side, among others.” She added. Lydia looked to Daryl, sadness filled her whole body. “And that was after. After we were ambushed and forced to obey Negan’s orders to give the Saviors half of our supplies. All of us, all our Communities. He was a cult leader. He took other men’s wives just because he could.” You swallowed harshly as Daryl stiffened his stance. “A cold blooded killer, who took anyone out for disobeying his rules. He’d kill just to send a message, and he did. He burned his own men’s faces with hot irons when they misbehaved.” Maggie went on. “Rosita stood up to him once and he killed two of our people, in front of Rick’s children.” You weren’t surprised by any of what she was saying, yet it still had such an effect on you. It hurt to hear. “Eventually, he caught several of us planning to retaliate against him.” She went on, speaking much slower now. Daryl sat down and lowered his head to hide his face for this part of the story. Maggie looked back to her son, tears filled her eyes and her face grew red and angry. Her lip quivered as she closed her eyes and tried to gather herself enough to go on. She looked up to Lydia, a tear escaped down her cheek. “It was random.” She said. “A random act of revenge for going behind his back.” She said looking to you for a minute, then went back to firmly staring at Lydia, scolding her with her eyes. “He took his baseball bat and he killed two of our people with it. I wore their splattered blood on my face.” She quivered some more and looked to the ceiling, taking a deep breath. “Abraham. A good man. Gone, just like that.” She said before locking eyes with you once again. “And Glenn.” She said his name and the air in the room instantly felt thicker and harder to breath in. The people listening along side of you, paced uncomfortably now. Some of them crying. “The best man I’ve ever known. My husband. Hershel’s father.” She stated. Another shock went through you as the realization hit and you felt her devastation. “Brutally killed, right in front of me by Negan’s hand. My entire world, my entire future destroyed.” She finished.

Silence filled the room. An uncomfortable, overbearing silence.

___________

After Michonne declared more time for the people to think about their votes, the crowded room emptied but the thickness in the air remained. The overpowering emotion was still there and your chest continued to ache. You felt more guilty now than ever and feared that if Maggie ever learned the truth about you and Negan, she wouldn’t forgive you. You’d be considered the enemy for sure.

You were one of the last to leave, looking back at Daryl who still sat in the chair. Then you proceeded through the door but left it cracked behind you and waited for him to exit too. You could feel his pain and wanted to know more. You could hear the sniffles, the hesitant sound of his boots as he stepped closer to Maggie. “Daryl.” She said questionably. He stood and finally looked at her.

“I’m sorry.” He said, his entire body shaking. “I never told you that. I’m sorry.” He repeated to her.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Maggie calmly told him, a bit taken back.

"It was.” Daryl said, his voice cracking. In all the years that Maggie knew him, she’d never seen him so vulnerable. It made her sad.

“No it wasn’t.” She confirmed. Daryl looked to her, distressed. “You're one of the good things in this world. That’s what Glenn thought and he would know. Because he was one of the good guys too.” She cried and embraced him, hugging him tight. An action that comforted them both greatly.

After just a few more minutes, Daryl wiped his eyes and he made his way to the door. He looked back at Maggie with his hand on the knob for another agonizing moment, then he finally continued on his way. He was surprised when he saw you standing on the other side, listening to everything. He looked to you sincerly now, not upset or angry like he had been for too long. He studied your face. You wanted to hug him so badly. You even slightly moved forward like you might do it but he walked away before you could. You watched him leave, again and it was then you were sure the two of you would never be back to where you were. You realized you may have really lost him.

_____________________

That night you sat in the hayloft with your favorite fuzzy plaid blanket spread over top of your shoulders. Your feet were like ice cubes and you could see when your warm breath would meet the cold air. The stars twinkled in the dark sky just outside the small, wide open window of the barn. You couldn’t ever seem to get over how bright they were here and away from the well lit city you used to know. Suddenly, you heard someone from below. You looked over the edge to see Daryl heading for the ladder. When he reached the top and you could fully see his face, you simply stared. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes puffy. You knew he was still upset. He took a deep breath.

“It’s cold tonight. Are you sure you wanna sleep here?” He asked. You blinked in disbelief of his concern, pulling your blanket up higher.

“This is my spot.” You frowned. He finished climbing the ladder and sat down beside you, his knees against his chest. He took another long and drawn out breath as he prepared what he wanted to say.

“The night Negan caught us...” He began, clearing his throat. “After he killed Abraham, I stepped up and tried to stop him. I tried to fight back.” He said. You hummed and turned to get closer, wanting to hear more. “That’s when he killed Glenn. And maybe if I hadn’t, maybe if I’d just stayed still....” He trailed off. Once again you could feel his pain, but you understood it more this time.

“You can’t put that on yourself.” You replied. “And I heard Maggie today, she doesn’t blame you.” He huffed.

“I just wanted you to know.” He noted.

“Yeah, I’m glad you told me.” You half smiled. “I’m sorry.” You leaned in closer and placed your hand on his that rested on the floor. He quickly moved it away. “But?” You asked, the fear now growing within you.

“I can’t, Y/n....” He said again.

“You can’t what?” You stuttered. He simply looked to his feet and grunted quietly. Then you nodded, putting it together. “Fine.” You said. He looked to you now, the finalization of it all hurt him a lot more than he would admit. He searched your expression. It was filled with anger, betrayal, grief and heartache. You scooted away.

“I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine, I wanted you to talk to me and you did. Okay? You can’t get passed it and I can’t change what happened.” You teared up, your throat burning as you tried to hold them back.

“Please.” He asked you to stop.

“Tell me I’m wrong then.” You suggested. He said nothing. You got up, climbed over him and down the ladder to leave the barn. You walked back to Carol’s house where he eventually followed, happy you weren’t going to suffer just because you were mad at him. But you immediately went to Lydia’s room and closed the door behind you so he couldn’t follow.

__________________

The next morning you went back to see Negan after staying up all night long, unable to get any sleep. You made a decision and you had a plan. The handsome prisoner once again sat up on his bed and looked to you in wonder.

“Let me make one thing clear.” You scolded. “You are an absolute piece of garbage, scum on this planet and you probably deserve to die.” You told him, breathing heavily. He stood up, a little stunned yet understanding and nodded in agreement.

“Okay.” He replied. You walked back over to the desk and reached inside the drawer where you had returned the key to his cell the day before. You grabbed it and held it firmly in the air where he could see it. “You will never be able to fix it. But you are going to help these people now. Got it?”

“And what am I getting out of this?” He asked with a smirk.

“You get to live, you arrogant asshole!” You raised your voice.

“Fair enough.” He stated. “What do you want me to do, Princess?” He asked, stepping up closer to the bars.

“I have a plan.” You said, placing the key in the lock and opening his cell door wide. He eyed you with a devious grin as you stepped aside to let him out.

________________

@jodiereedus22 @dashesoflipstick @theunofficialduke @dixonluvv @nikki082489 @jordangdelacruz @lunatheumbreon @dbtvluvI

I gave a lot of thought about how I wanted you to learn about what Negan did to Abraham and Glenn. I felt it best you heard it from Maggie.

Glenn was always a favorite of mine. Yes, there were many deaths on the show that stuck with me more than other minor ones. BETH’S, Hershel’s, Dale’s, Merle’s, Sophia’s...but still none like Glenn’s.

So, boo on that decision.

Here’s to Glenn Rhee! Thanks for reading!

<<Chapter 13, >>Chapter 15

#The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfiction #Norman Reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixion imagine #negan #jeffrey dean morgan #negan fanfiction #negan x reader

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arigatouiris · 5 years

Text

daughter of artemis || p.p — [01]

c h a p t e r o n e

Pairing: Peter Parker x Demigod! Reader [Female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; angst [a lot of it]; greek mythology rewritten [completely my interpretation of it, oops]; slightly based off the games god of war and assassin’s creed odyssey; hurt/comfort; cliche; fluff [on later chapters sometimes]; mentions of sex and gore; slight alternate universe

Follows events after Endgame, but Tony, Natasha, Steve, Loki are alive in this universe.

Author’s Note: Thank you for all the love, guys! It’s going to be a bit slow initially, so bear with me. Also, all the things I’ve written about the Greek gods here is fictional, so I hope that’s clear beforehand.

And if you want to see your name in the taglist, add yourself here!

Word count: 3750

main masterlist || series masterlist

00 - 01 - 02

01 // σκόνη dust

❅

She opened her eyes and gasped loudly, as a car stopped in front of her. Looking around, (y/n) realized she was in the middle of the road, busy traffic, and cars and moving vehicles halted at her abrupt appearance out of nowhere. It was dark, strange because it was not so dark back in Phokis. Clutching her stinging hip, tears filled her eyes with the sudden shock of realizing her uncle had sent her somewhere using some out-of-the-ordinary trick. People were now yelling at her, and just as her vision cleared—(y/n) looked around to see tall buildings surrounding her, with herself in the middle of an ocean of modern civilization.

“Hey, girl! Get out of the way!”

Just as she was about to take a step, she felt herself being lifted off the ground, a gasp exiting her lips just as her eyes shut due to the impact again. She felt something coil around her, preventing her from falling; her senses were right, she was up in the air. Opening her eyes once again, she noticed the city swinging below her, someone was grabbing her, her legs dangling in the air, her chin resting on what felt and looked like a red shoulder. (y/n) struggled right away, kicking the air below her, wanting to get off the grasp of this creature that was taking her away from where she needed to be.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I’m only trying to help, relax!” Came a voice, from this creature.

A moment later, it placed her on the roof of a building, as tall as the buildings around her. Looking around, she understood that this was definitely America, considering this creature in a costume’s accent, and the height of the buildings. It was nothing like the cities in Greece, here there were more people and more noise. Looking at the creature in front of her, the thirteen year old had to do a double take. He wore a spider costume, his face covered with a funny looking mask, and for some strange reason, his costume smelled like iron.

“What are you?” She asked, scrunching her eyes at him.

The creature almost looked offended by her question. Did it expect her to know who he or it was?

“I’m your friendly neighborhood Spiderman! D-Don’t you—?”

The clueless expression that she gave off prevented this Spiderman from continuing further. Immediately, his head turned to her hip, causing her to try to hide it from him, but to no avail.

“Oh, dude. Dude! You’re hurt. Where are your parents? I’ll take you—”

“I don’t need help from a freak like you.” (y/n) was not interested in having a conversation with a man in a costume.

“No, listen. If you don’t get that checked out, it’ll get infected. Where are your—” He stopped suddenly before observing her.

She looked like she was from another place, especially if she didn’t know who Spiderman was; she was injured, her hair disheveled, her eyes hostile, and her heart was beating rapidly against her chest. It wasn’t as if she was hiding something, it was blatantly clear to him now that she had run away.

“You’re a runaway.”

(y/n)’s eyes narrowed, not surprised that he had figured it out. Turning her back to him, she walked off, not knowing where she was going, but her current agenda was to get away from this Spiderman.

He grabbed her wrist and turned her around.

“Listen, I’m only trying to help. Please, let me—”

In an instant, before he even noticed it, her right leg met his chin. She grabbed his throat using her foot, while using her other foot to topple him over. Putting his head in a headlock, (y/n) squeezed before hearing the costume man gasp. Pressing her right hand to the ground, she bolted away from there, jumping across the rooftop like it was easy. Spiderman didn’t catch up right away, but was dazed with what she had displayed. She was a thirteen year old girl, he could definitely keep up with someone like her!

“P-Please, I’m only trying to help!” Spiderman’s voice chased after her.

Sliding down a pipe, (y/n) made her way to what appeared to be an alleyway. A barred fence was in front of her, which she found no difficulty climbing. Slipping past Spiderman would be easy if he couldn’t see her, therefore, she kept her visibility minimum. She moved in the shadows, using her surroundings to camouflage her movements. What seemed like a couple of minutes later, she had found the perfect place to hide. A trash bin, which was recently emptied. It smelt like the filth of everything American, but it was part of her surroundings now, and she was being hunted.

She listened to the silence around her, nothing but sirens and car horns could be heard; closing her eyes, she pictured Spiderman, she pictured where he could be after judging his movements from following her. There were numerous possibilities as to where he could have gone off, or if he had been successful in following her route.

A moment later, (y/n) breathed out, relaxed. Spiderman had lost her. Getting out of the trashcan, (y/n) looked at herself. She wore her mother’s old jacket—beige in color, but the color seemed to have faded now since it had been such a long time since her mother had even worn it. She wore dark blue jeans, once again, her mother’s, which were faded. Canvas shoes, torn by the sole from all the running. A grey tank top with bandages around it, revealing splotches of blood by her left hip. Her hair was free and disheveled. (y/n) breathed in to calm herself, but failed.

She looked homeless. Lost. Hopeless. And she was once a princess in Olympus.

❅

Walking past what looked like a bakery, (y/n) stepped back and looked at the various assortments of bread and cake within the store. She remembered how she told her mother long ago that she hated sweet things, but secretly liking a couple here and then. Artemis always knew this fact about her daughter, and would surprise her now and then with a small sweet gift after breakfast. Artemis wasn’t like the other gods. She liked human things, she liked to dress as the humans, talk as them, and behave as them—wanting to be one with them.

Perhaps this was why Artemis met with cruel fate. For Gods and men could never stand on the same ground.

“Hey! Get out of here, don’t stare at my shop!” The woman from inside the bakery yelled at her.

Quickly scurrying away, (y/n) felt fresh tears sting her eyes. No one cared, these people were strange and didn’t know her. These people were poison. She was on the footpath, random people walking past her, not giving her a second glance. To them, she was just another person, a child with no home. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream at her uncle for bringing her here without warning. How could she find this Pepper person without any clue? Pepper was the clue, her mind repeated.

Pepper was such a strange name. Who was this Pepper? And how was Pepper related to her father? Was this person even someone worth remembering?

Was Pepper a nickname for her father?

(y/n) shut her eyes before trying to calm herself once more. She remembered her life from earlier, of how simple it used to be when her mother was around. Artemis had made life seem so simple and forgoing, her positivity made (y/n) believe she could tackle anything in the world. Even while she taught (y/n) to hunt, to use the bow, to defend herself as she had against Spiderman, Artemis had always told her to be kind.

On the day of the prophecy, she missed her mother the most. (y/n) had never understood the celebration that Delphi brought along in Olympus; a secret ceremony for the Gods. This time, word got out that Delphi had something far more important to say—a prophecy that would directly impact all Gods in Olympus. Hera wasn’t pleased, as usual, since she loved where she was and how she was revered. Hera seemed like the only person who wasn’t affected with Artemis going missing.

Apollo had stayed away from (y/n) ever since his twin sister was nowhere to be found. The animals ran wild, the woman sunk into a terrible dreaded depressive state, and disease struck every pregnant mother in Greece. Artemis would never forget her duties like this, not this randomly, he knew her better than she knew herself. He turned to spot his niece, several feet ahead of him in the great hallway of Zeus’ castle. Biting his teeth, he turned away before she could spot him.

Ever since (y/n) had been born, Artemis was known as the Goddess that broke her vow. Zeus had lost complete respect for his daughter, and Hera’s jealousy got in the way of everything. Although (y/n) was not loved, she was half-God, and therefore, a princess of Olympus. Artemis made sure (y/n) was treated with respect, if not love. But, Apollo—he could not meet her in the eye. Apollo could never forgive (y/n) for being born, for ruining his sister’s reputation. And he knew, in his heart, that her disappearance was due to (y/n) in some way.

When the prophecy was about to be announced, (y/n) was seated in the far back, so far Apollo could barely see her until he looked around and spotted her. She looked sad; she always looked sad, but there was something about her sadness that day that sent fear into his heart. Turning away, he noticed a frail old woman in the middle of the grand hall, the Oracle, about to give her final prophecy.

“As Artemis sleeps, her daughter will rise, the new moon she will be, with fate and the sun at her side,” Apollo blinked before standing up, Zeus’ ushering him to sit down, and Delphi continued, “And when Clotho stops spinning the thread of fate, Lachesis and Atropos go into a slumber for five years.”

‘The fates go to sleep?’ Apollo couldn’t understand. Turning to his niece, he saw fear had clouded her mind. His heart was beating rapidly against his chest, and he knew it and felt it. He sensed the death in the air, circling around her.

“And once their slumber ends, then shall arise the new moon,” Delphi pointed towards where (y/n) was sitting, whose eyes were wide now. “Who completes her final hunt, ending Zeus’s fate as King. All his henchman made of blood and stone will erode at her hunt, and Olympus will no longer be a land for the Gods.”

When Delphi stopped, (y/n) ran. Apollo let out a breath but not of relief, he knew this was bad. He knew his sister was dead, in his heart he knew, and he was going to witness his niece suffer the same fate. He closed his eyes and felt his father bring forth a storm.

But, Apollo knew where she would go. Phokis, to her mother’s temple. He’d meet her there.

(y/n) ran, but she knew she’d be caught. Within the palace, Zeus had eyes everywhere. He knew where she went and where she could go, there was almost no escape if she was inside. She couldn’t register the prophecy, she couldn’t think about anything but her mother. Did her mother know? Was that why she left?

Was that why the fates declared her dead?

Clutching the dagger her mother had given her, a day before disappearing, (y/n) made it to the exit, that peaked over Mt. Olympus, but screamed when a massive force hit her left hip. There was blood everywhere, and the javelin stopped a few feet ahead of her. Turning to spot one of Zeus’ henchmen, the Boar as he called himself, (y/n) got back up on her feet and ran.

She knew his henchmen were made from his blood, she knew they were neither human nor God, they were his creation just as sand and stone. They had no life, but only motive—the motive was to serve Zeus in anyway they could.

Leaning over a bridge that overlooked the forests, (y/n) fell backwards before the Boar threw another javelin at her. And thus, she would run. To the temple where her mother always took her.

❅

In New York, on that strange night, (y/n) felt absolutely alone. There was not a single soul in the world left who cared if she lived or died. Her uncle had saved her life as a favor to his sister, but that was all. Now, she was on her own, in a strange place filled with strange people. As she walked on the streets towards nowhere but an unfamiliar darkness, (y/n) felt a grief in her heart that resembled fear. Her stomach churned and her wound burned, her mind was clouded with a sorrow only she knew, and she yawned more times than she could count.

A second later, grief turned to a haunting fear, causing her eyes to widen. A clap of thunder could be heard in the skies, New York was getting ready to pour. The rain meant Zeus could find her, the second one drop fell on her skin, Zeus would know where she was. She looked around for shelter and found none; the smell in the air changed, it smelt like it was going to rain.

Please, she prayed to her mother, knowing she was dead and couldn’t hear her. Please, she prayed to her uncle, wondering if he had given up on her. Please, she prayed to no one, letting go of hope.

Hands wrapped around her waist and hoisted her up in the air. Opening her eyes, she looked at Spiderman’s masked face, holding her as he swung in the air.

“Are you a God?” She asked, swearing she knew every God in Midgard, but not having heard of this creature.

Spiderman chuckled before saying, “Nah, Thor and Loki are Gods. I’m just a regular superhero.”

Superhero? She thought before clutching on to him as tightly as she could, not wanting to fall.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let go.” He said, tightening his grasp around her.

“How are you doing this?”

“You have a lot of questions for a little girl.”

(y/n) frowned, “You’re as tall as I am.”

“Am not!” Spiderman fought back, causing her to roll her eyes.

“And you sure can fight.” Spiderman grumbled.

“I’m sorry. I thought you were a freak.” She heard him chuckle.

Dropping her on a building, it hadn’t rained yet. She quickly ran under cover, looking up to the sky in caution.

“You don’t like the rain?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t want to give him anymore information about herself. She didn’t know who he was, and there was no way she could trust a man with a mask.

“Alright, listen. I know you’ve runaway from someplace. I won’t ask. But, you’re hurt and you need to get that checked. This is a shelter for the homeless, and I know it sounds terrible, it’s run by this amazing person named May Parker, and I’m sure you’ll be comfortable here. They have food and they can keep you away from the rain.” Spiderman told her.

She didn’t want to trust him, but she also looked like she was contemplating on taking his help.

“You can trust me, you don’t know who I am and I don’t know who you are. Sometimes, it’s better this way to trust someone, right?”

(y/n)’s eyes widened. She looked up at Spiderman and found no expression. He was right, he was someone she didn’t know, in this strange place, who was trying to help her out. She nodded once before watching him fist bump the air, and then clearing his throat. (y/n) smiled at him once, before biting her lip and letting him lead her downstairs.

On approaching a middle-aged woman, who was wearing glasses, Spiderman waved at her and pointed to (y/n).

“Hey, May!”

May was a beautiful woman, with a warm smile. Smiling at Spiderman and then turning to (y/n), her eyes widened in fear upon noticing her wound. She immediately called for first aid.

“Goodness, how did this happen?”

(y/n) stupidly looked at Spiderman and scrunched up her eyebrows. Gesturing randomly a couple of times, he blurted out, “Uh, she was mugged. Yeah! She was mugged. It was terrible. She’s fine otherwise, and um, so…” He turned to her, noticed her nod once, and continued, “She’ll need to stay here a couple of days. Is that cool?”

May rolled her eyes. A nurse came to her side in a second and she said, “She can stay here for as long as she likes. But, you’ll need to go back to school once this is all over.”

(y/n) looked at Spiderman and smiled. The man or boy in the mask gave her a thumbs up before walking away. (y/n) sighed, before letting the nurse treat her wound. It seemed alright, for the time being, since she was away from Olympus and Zeus, and everything that was perhaps trying to hunt her down. May led her to a bed after that, and (y/n) took off her jacket and lay down. She wasn’t hungry, but May promised to bring down some food for her after some time.

I miss you, she thought about her mother as she shut her eyes. She didn’t know for sure if this place was completely safe, but for some reason, she wanted to trust Spiderman. He seemed familiar in a way that made her feel at home—you feel familiar with a person you’ve never met before because they’re being kind to you. And Spiderman was being kind to her.

Closing her eyes, as she drifted off to sleep, (y/n) thought of Artemis.

❅

It had been a couple of hours since she had seen her mother. Something was strange—the air smelled different and there was a looming fear in her heart. Birds were flying as if a cyclone was about to hit them, animals were losing their mind. Dark clouds had gathered in the sky, but Zeus was not angry, not that she knew of. She wanted to find her mother, and ask her what was wrong, but Artemis was nowhere to be found.

Ignoring the growing fear in her heart, she made her way to Apollo’s chambers, wanting to ask her uncle where her mother was. She knew her uncle didn’t like her very much, but this was about his sister—someone he definitely loved with all his heart. Apollo had always been cold to her, not wanting to speak to her for more than required, and not wanting any sort of other interaction with her. (y/n) respected his space, but this was important.

Knocking on his door, (y/n) gulped when he opened in a jiffy. Apollo grunted when he saw his niece standing there, but looked at her questioningly.

“Mom…” Apollo was alerted. “She’s…gone. I can’t find her. I can’t reach her either. I don’t know—”

“I thought she was with you.” Apollo whispered, his eyes narrowing.

(y/n)’s heart dropped.

“N-No…” (y/n) was not normally a shy or timid person, but fear does this to children whose parents are missing.

“When was the last time you saw her?”

Tell no one I gave you that dagger, her mother had instructed her before she walked into her temple.

“Her temple in Phokis. We were there, but she asked me to come back. I thought she’d come after… after she finished her work there.” (y/n) was lying, and Apollo knew. But he knew that his niece had last seen her in Artemis’ temple.

“I’ll go check the temple. The winds are not good. Stay inside. Try reaching her with your mind. She hears your calls.” Apollo snapped, before moving past her.

Artemis had given (y/n) a dagger with greek inscriptions on it. She had told her daughter that this dagger would be important and useful later, but she didn’t know why.

“I don’t even know how to use it,” (y/n) said, frowning.

“You will.” Artemis said, smiling at her.

Greece loved Artemis and Apollo, the star twins. Apollo was loved and respected as the sun was, music and poetry celebrated all over Greece. And animals adored Artemis, revering in her beauty and grace, women prayed to her for good fortune and health, her presence made things better for them. Slowly, (y/n) understood that their fame made Zeus’ look smaller in the eyes of the people in Greece and invariably in Olympus as well. And Zeus did not like it very much.

Married to Hera, Zeus often found himself jealous of his own children—a fact that brew fear in (y/n)’s heart, each time Artemis or Apollo were openly respected. And that night, when the moon did not show, (y/n) knew. She knew in her heart that she would never see her mother again.

❅

After what felt like an eternity, (y/n) woke up to complete silence. She opened her eyes and saw that it might be midday, she had slept for more than 14 hours. Slowly, she got up and sat on the bed and saw no one around her. All the beds in that large hall were empty, soiled, and eerily quiet.

“Hello?” She said, it sounding almost like a whisper.

Getting up, she moved down the hall and saw more dust, scattered everywhere like something, somewhere had stopped from working.

“Anyone?” She heard shuffling, but she wasn’t sure if it was a person.

On the streets, she saw cars, stopped, unmoving, no person in the road or the cars. The cars had hit each other and were dented in the front and back, the skies were empty and slowly turning dark, the sun was nowhere to be seen. Gasping, she turned around and saw more dust on the roads, and some dust flying in the air.

Dust was present where people once were. And the prophecy rang clearly in her head.

And when Clotho stops spinning the thread of fate, Lachesis and Atropos go into a slumber for five years.

❅

series taglist:

Those I could not tag, I’ve put your urls here!

@maddie-laufeyson, @mscoloneldanvers, @https://dancing-flame.tumblr.com, @daughter-of-stark, @spider-mendes, @nerdyandproudofitsstuff, @someonekeepstakingmyusernames, @alina-margaret, @yourwonderbelle, @viarogers, @https://huangsushii.tumblr.com, @eridanuswave @oliviaisnotlistening @mizpotatobiscuits @editsbyjenny @abbieroseb @justtrynagetthroughlife @secretlittlewonders @shallowshawnshallowshawn.tumblr.com

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eleanor-writes-stuff · 6 years

Text

making out in the mouth of the devil [one-shot]

For his first assignment as Snoke’s apprentice, Ben is ordered to retrieve a powerful Force-sensitive child from Jakku named Rey. Together they become the most feared and powerful Force users in the galaxy. Together they learn to hide parts of themselves away from Snoke. Together they find strength and comfort and love – until the day Snoke finds out and tears them apart.

But now Snoke is finally dead, Kylo is the new Supreme Leader, and he can’t wait to see Rey again.

Enter Kira Ren, summoned to the Supremacy by a suspicious Hux. She’s Snoke’s most prized weapon, she’s pissed that her master is dead, and she has no memory at all of Ben’s love for her.

For Day 3 - Canon Divergence of Reylo AU Week.

It’s the ‘Ben and Rey trained under Snoke together/some of TFA happened/very little of TLJ happened’ AU no one ever asked for! Come for the angst, stay for the angst. Also, a happy ending.

Also available on AO3.

The sleek black transport, a TIE fighter much like his own, boards the Supremacy just a day after he declares himself the new Supreme Leader.

Kylo chokes on a lump in his throat, thinks maybe his heart has dislodged itself at the sight. Because there’s only one other Silencer in the entire galaxy, only two of these customized ships he’d overseen the creation of, and there can only be one person flying that ship.

“I thought she might be interested in an audience with you, given… recent events,” Hux says from where he stands next to Kylo, eyes fixed on the same ship. His lips curl into something between a sneer and a smirk, a look only the insufferable General could be capable of. We have a guest, the kriffing piece of work had claimed when he barged into a meeting and insisted that the Supreme Leader had an urgent matter to attend to. A guest, as if she hadn’t grown up on this very flagship with them, as if the Supremacy hadn’t been her home up until two years ago.

She emerges from the ship, and while some part of him notes Hux moving forward to greet her, Kylo himself is rooted to the spot, incapacitated by his first glimpse of her since the worst day of his life. In his mind he pushes Hux aside, runs to her and picks her up in his arms, kisses her in front of the whole damn ship because there’s no one to stop them now, no one to fear, Snoke is dead and he’s Supreme Leader and finally, finally there’s nothing standing in their way–

In reality the blood in his veins turns to ice when her eyes perform a cursory sweep of her surroundings and she fixes him with a hateful glare the likes of which he’s never been on the receiving end of. Dread gnaws at him, Snoke’s last words taking on new meaning as she continues to glare at him until Hux steps forward and pulls her attention away.

“Welcome back, Lady Ren,” Hux simpers as he moves to take her hand, only for her to brush past him and leave the general rushing to catch up.

“Make sure that my things are moved to my old room,” she commands without so much as a look back at Hux. “And no one is to touch my ship.”

Her eyes snap back to him then, and Kylo finally regains control of himself, steps forward to greet her as she makes her way towards him, sure strides with her head held high and her shoulders straight, every inch the intimidating Knight the whole galaxy warns each other about in hushed whispers.

He can’t wait until they’re out of sight, just the two of them, when she’ll let the tension drain out of her shoulders and look at him with an uncharacteristic softness in her eyes, maybe even tears, Force knows he’ll probably shed a few of his own, it’s been so long–

“Kylo,” she says curtly as they meet each other in the middle. Up close, the passage of time is undeniable: her face has lost what little roundness it had before, her bone structure is more prominent than it had been, and her eyes… her eyes have that look to them that he sees in his own reflection every morning, a look that speaks of things he’d spent the better part of a decade trying to shield her from.

Painfully aware of Hux hovering just a few feet behind her and the rest of the ship watching, Kylo offers her a mere nod. “Kira.”

It’s not a name that comes naturally to him, not the one he’s spent the past two years whispering in his mind, but it’ll have to do for now. “We must speak,” she declares, and doesn’t wait for a reply before she’s stalking away and into the bowels of the ship.

Kylo wastes no time in following her, allows himself to be yanked into the first empty room they stumble upon – an interrogation room with a locking door and thick walls, coincidentally.

“Rey,” he breathes as soon as the door is secured behind them, lunges forward to take her face in his hands and kiss her for the first time in two years. “Stars, I’ve missed you so much–”

She sends him flying through the air before he can get within two feet of her, his back colliding painfully with a wall of instruments. “Murderous snake!” Rey snarls, her outstretched hand squeezing his windpipe from across the room. “Our master? How could you? How could you!” Her fingers curl into a tight fist, and he nearly blacks out before he can summon the willpower to fight against her chokehold.

“What–” Kylo sputters as he staggers to his feet. “What are you talking about? Rey, don’t you see–”

“Stop calling me that!” she growls, brushing aside her cloak to reach for the saber at her hip. “I’ve had enough of your manipulations to last me a lifetime, Kylo Ren!”

Her familiar purple saber comes to life with a hum, and he watches in a dreamlike-haze as Rey comes closer, charges at him with every intention of–

“What are you talking about?” he grunts, his own saber crackling to life just in time to lock with hers. “Rey, I don’t understand–”

“Did you think I would forget?” she seethes, stepping back with a frustrated cry to disengage from him. “Did you really think two years would be enough for me to move past a decade of your treachery? And now this!” Rey adds before he can ask her what the hell she’s talking about. “I should have known this day would come. Our own master, Kylo! Are you really so much of a monster that you would kill the man who rescued us, who made us everything we are?”

When she charges at him again, he’s prepared to parry her blows. Fighting against each other is a pointless exercise when he’s the one who taught her everything she knows, and there’s only so much space for her to back away in this cramped room. Before long, her back lands against the wall with a thud and their blades screech as he knocks her saber to the ground.

“I killed the man who tore us apart, the man who took you away from me!” Kylo reminds her, his saber just close enough to her throat to keep her still. He searches her eyes for recognition, for understanding, for anything other than the blazing hatred he can’t make sense of.

Rey lets loose another frustrated cry as she calls his bluff, shoves at him knowing that he won’t actually hurt her and ducks under his arm to stomp across the room. At the door, she calls her saber to her side and extinguishes it.

“You can stop lying now,” she tells him coldly, her eyes suspiciously bright as her hand hits the control pad for the locks. “The pathetic, weak, stupid girl who thought you loved her – she’s long gone. And know this, Kylo Ren: I won’t fall for your tricks ever again.”

She sweeps out of the room, her cloak swirling behind her in a flurry of black wool and blood-red lining. In her absence there is only the crackle of his saber and his own harsh, winded pants as he slides down to the ground and tries to make sense of the past twenty minutes.

“Rey,” he murmurs, bits and pieces slowly falling into place in his mind. “What did he do to you?”

It’s strange, being back on the Supremacy after a year on the Finalizer.

“Home sweet home,” Rey mutters in the elevator, and he reaches out to squeeze her hand just once. He wishes they didn’t have their gloves on – skin-on-skin contact is the only way to really calm her down – but then again, he wishes a lot of things.

Rey turns to offer him a tight smile anyway, despite the nerves bleeding into their connection. He wants to tell her to breathe, to calm down, to center herself before Snoke can get suspicious, but the doors slide open before he can do so and suddenly they’re out of time.

“My children,” their master’s voice rings out across his cavernous throne room, far more unsettling than Ben remembers it being. A year of communicating via holo had dulled the edges of Snoke’s malicious presence, but now it’s returned to hit the both of them in full force. “Come, come forward. We have much to discuss.”

Rey shuffles forward on reluctant feet; Ben positions himself in front of her to keep Snoke from noticing. “Master,” he intones when they reach the center of the room, dropping to one knee.

Beside him, but a safe distance away, Rey does the same.

“Look at you,” Snoke rasps in that paper-thin voice he’s known ever since he was a child. “My children, so strong, so loyal, so obedient… so, so foolish.”

He tenses at the abrupt shift in Snoke’s voice, how it’s suddenly grown cold and sharp. Panic floods their bond; Rey knows as well as he does that this sudden shift never means anything good.

Ben sends her a wave of reassurance as he raises his head to look at Snoke. “Master, I don’t–”

“Silence!” Snoke’s voice echoes off the red walls. “I will not have you lie to me, Kylo Ren. Not any more than you already have.” He pushes himself off his throne, rises to his full height to present them with the grotesque sight of his decaying, deformed body. “Did you think you could lie to me? Did you think you could hide from me? I know every corner of your mind, I know every dark thought, every paralyzing fear, every sickly-sweet daydream.”

Snoke turns to Rey then, and even with her head bent and her eyes still firmly fixed on the ground, she can feel it. Her breath grows short, her heartrate picks up – he sends wave after wave of calm at her, whispers reassurances into their bond, but all of it is lost on Rey, blinded by her panic.

“Kira Ren,” Snoke laughs mockingly. “Scourge of the galaxy, destroyer of worlds. I have wondered, my child. Wondered how someone who burns entire villages to the ground and rips minds to shreds could be so soft, so weak at the very heart of you. I suppose now we know.”

“You have always been weak! How many fires has Kylo set for you, how many innocents has he tormented in your name, all to keep me from realizing how sentimental you are?”

“Master, please–” Rey sobs, her entire form trembling in fear and shame.

“And now this!” Their master shoves an image into their mind with barely any effort, rips through their carefully constructed barriers to slap them with a vision straight out of Rey’s dreams: the two of them on a quiet, peaceful planet somewhere, no Snoke or First Order or Knights of Ren here, just Rey and Ben and their child between them, Ben’s hand on her stomach while the baby kicks–

“Pathetic,” Snoke scoffs. “What a disappointment you turned out to be, the both of you.”

“It’s not her fault,” Ben says, scrambles to his feet to position himself between Rey and their master. “I’m the one to blame, Kira only went along with–”

Snoke waves, sends him skittering across the floor. “Save your breath, my child. You embarrass yourself by even trying to lie to me.”

“What…” Rey whispers from her spot on the ground, finally daring to lift her eyes up to meet Snoke. “What are you going to do to us?”

A smile stretches across his face, and it strikes fear into their hearts. “Oh, my dear, sweet Rey: nothing, my child, nothing at all. But perhaps the better question would have been, what are you two going to do to each other?”

They fight against it, they really do.

But when Snoke locks them into place in front of each other, Ben’s saber at her throat and Rey’s at his heart, and tells them to either fight each other of their own will or kill each other under his will, there is no other choice.

The battle goes on for what feels like an eternity, the two of them reluctantly circling each other before Snoke warns them to get on with it. Their blades come into contact again and again but neither of them land any blows, and out of the corner of his eye Ben can see Snoke getting impatient, bored, lightning crackling threateningly at his fingertips–

He slows down by two seconds, feigns to the left as expected but doesn’t correct himself when Rey swings her blade, and allows the blow to connect.

The pain knocks him off his feet; Rey’s cry of horror tears at his heart while Snoke hisses in satisfaction.

“Ben!” Rey screams, throwing her lightsaber aside as she falls to her knees and gathers him in her arms. “Ben, why?”

His right eye won’t open, or maybe he just can’t see out of it anymore; it’s hard to tell when he can still hear the sound of his flesh sizzling against the saber, when he can clearly feel where the fabric of his shirt has melted into his skin . “I don’t know what he’ll do to the loser,” he whispers as Rey pushes his hair out of his face, “but I couldn’t let it be you.”

Rey lowers her forehead to his, careful to avoid his open wound. “I love you,” she sobs against his lips. “No matter what happens after this, I love you, I’ll always love you–”

She shrieks when two medics pull Ben away, a whole team of them appearing out of nowhere. Of course Snoke had no intention of losing either of his apprentices; death was never a possible outcome, but Ben knows their master is capable of a fate even worse than that and whatever it is, he cannot, will not let Rey suffer through it.

Through the bond he sends her what little peace he can muster, draws it from the knowledge that he’ll bear the brunt of Snoke’s ire and she’s safe for now. I love you, Ben reminds her as the medics roughly drag him away.

“Kira,” he hears Snoke call out, sees her slowly turning around to face their master. “My child,” Snoke intones warmly, “my greatest triumph, my most dangerous weapon-”

They drag him into the elevator. The last he ever sees of Rey is her back turned to him, her shoulders slumped in defeat and heartache.

The next morning, Hux decides to review some surveillance footage.

“I thought Lady Ren could get some closure by witnessing her master’s last moments,” he says neutrally when Kylo comes storming into the room, having only found out about this when he asked a passing trooper about Rey’s whereabouts.

Rey stands in the center of the room, her eyes trained on the screen. They’ve paused on him entering Snoke’s throne room, just seconds before the conversation begins.

Not that anyone other than him will ever get to hear it; Snoke was ridiculously paranoid about this one specific thing, and never allowed any audio recording equipment in his rooms. The holo is entirely visual-only, which is why he doesn’t move to override her when Rey turns to the officer manning the controls and orders him to proceed.

Kylo can feel Hux’s accusing glare on him as the recording plays, but he’s too busy reliving the moment to bristle at the General’s continued suspicion.

It was Hux’s fault he was even in Snoke’s throne room to begin with – the rat had somehow found out that he’d chosen to spare Han Solo on Starkiller Base, to let his father get away instead of killing him the way Snoke had commanded him to. Hux wasted no time in reporting this back to Snoke, who demanded a meeting with Kylo the second he boarded the Supremacy.

Without audio, there’s no telling that Snoke was berating him for his weakness. Perhaps I was wrong to send Kira Ren away. You, Ben Solo, you were the sentimental one all along.

It was the first time his master had mentioned Rey since that awful day, and Kylo couldn’t help himself. He lunged forward, demanded to know where Rey was and what Snoke had done with her. Snoke threw his head back and laughed, reaffirmed that Kylo really was the weak one after all. Kira will be pleased to return, I think. Even more so when she learns that she will be replacing you.

Throughout their time apart, the only measure of solace Kylo had found had been in the knowledge that Rey was far away from Snoke, away from any hurt he could inflict upon her. The thought of her coming back, of her taking his place and kneeling before Snoke every day, carrying out his twisted orders, bearing his rage and torment when he’s disappointed… that was what had compelled him to draw his saber against his master.

Rey and Hux aren’t privy to that, of course. All they see is Snoke mocking him, and then Kylo’s saber crackling to life. Snoke only laughed harder then, telling him he wouldn’t dare, egging him on.

Do it, Kylo Ren! Be the Sith your grandfather never became, kill your master and take your rightful place. Do it, you coward!

One minute Snoke was laughing and snarling like a crazed beast; the next he had Kylo’s saber firmly embedded in his heart.

Rey gasps when Snoke falls forward, further impaling himself on the saber. Hux plasters on a mask of shock and horror, but Kylo knows there isn’t even a single shred of grief in him, that all he’s thinking about is turning Rey against Kylo so that he’ll have an ally when he finally stages his coup.

On screen, Kylo stumbled forward, pulled his blade out of his master’s chest. Blood came gushing out, staining Snoke’s robe as he turned his head towards Kylo. This is far from over. You and I will meet again soon, my apprentice, when your beloved sends you to me for what you’ve done.

Kylo had been confused, had reached out to yank Snoke up by his collar with a demand to know what he was talking about.

Let me show you, Snoke had laughed cruelly even as the life drained from him, just how weak love makes a man.

His last words hadn’t made sense then. They do now.

“He was proud of me,” Kylo lies when Rey and Hux turn accusing eyes on him. “Surprised, but proud. He said he never thought I had it in me, to carry on the Sith tradition.”

Hux looks genuinely confused. “The Sith tradition?”

Of course he wouldn’t know; terrified of the Force as he is, Hux has gone out of his way to avoid any and all encounters with or knowledge about it.

“The Rule of Two,” Rey says dismissively as she takes deliberate, measured steps towards Kylo. “But Snoke wasn’t a Sith lord, and neither of us are Sith,” she says quietly, for their ears only. “He would never have agreed to this.”

To the rest of the room she says, “Destroy the recording. It upsets me, and I have no wish to stumble upon it ever again.”

Hux springs into action, halting the officer with a frantic gesture to pause. “Wait, my Lady, what about–”

“You saw it as clearly as I did, General: Lord Snoke intended for this to happen,” Rey shrugs. “He seemed pleased that it had. I do not see evidence of any of your claims,” she adds coldly. “This has been a waste of my time.”

“But… but-!” Hux sputters as Rey makes to leave the room.

“A word,” she snaps at Kylo as she brushes past, and he follows her out into the hallway expecting a repeat of yesterday’s fight. She must have her reasons as to why she protected him from Hux, but there’s no way Rey – this Rey, Kira Ren through and through – will let him get away with it.

Rey stops right outside the door, showing no signs of anger. “Did you know,” she begins almost conversationally, “that I’ve picked up lip reading?”

Kylo’s ears start to ring.

“Snoke was the one who revealed your tricks to me, the one who told me that you were just using me all along,” Rey continues, leaning against the wall opposite him with her arms crossed. Her brows knit together in thought, perhaps confusion, as she asks, “So what was all of that?”

That was the truth, he wants to scream. “Rey, I–”

She shakes her head, pushes herself off the wall. “No. Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. Not yet, anyway,” she adds hesitantly. “I just wanted to let you know that I intend to stay for the foreseeable future. I am the Supreme Leader’s to command, and until you find need of me I will remain here.”

He’ll never give her another mission again if that’s what it takes to keep her onboard. “Okay,” Kylo croaks, like the broken-voiced adolescent he hasn’t been in years.

“Okay,” Rey echoes with a final nod, and walks away.

He’s only been training under Snoke for a standard month when he’s sent to retrieve Rey from Jakku, but he’s learned more than enough in that short month to pass several important lessons on to her.

“Hold on to your name,” he tells her the day Snoke assigns her a new one. “Hide it deep down and never use it, but don’t let go of it. Don’t let go of yourself. Build a new self over the old one, but never forget what brought you here.”

“Clear your mind,” he teaches her when she asks him how to hide things. “Isolate it, put a hundred obstacles between it and him, but make them small, subtle, tiring to navigate. A wall can be torn down, but a maze… a maze is trickier.”

“Don’t let him destroy you,” he murmurs into her hair, holding her close and rocking her gently after the first time Snoke barges into her mind and points out all of her weaknesses. “Be strong, and hard, and cold, but never forget that being kind and soft and warm isn’t weakness, it’s what makes you you.”

It’s selfish, maybe, to tell her to cling on to all the things that’ll make her transition harder, but the plain fact is that he can’t bear to see her lose everything that makes Rey uniquely Rey, can’t bear to lose the kindness and warmth she shows him.

“You too,” Rey sniffs even as she looks up at him defiantly, determination blazing in this tiny twelve-year-old even as she clings to him for comfort like the child that she is. “You need to stay you. Don’t let him take you away from me, Ben. You’re all I’ve got.”

So together they learn how to walk the line, how to be both Kylo and Ben, Kira and Rey, how to give Snoke what he thinks he wants without showing their master all that hides at the center of his maze or beyond the seemingly-endless ocean of her mind. Together they stay them, and he gets to watch Rey grow up with all the softest parts of her intact, with all of her secrets safely hidden away.

So safely hidden away, so well protected, that even he doesn’t know any of them until the day she throws herself at him, newly seventeen and never kissed and so, so desperate to make the most of what little privacy they have on their first official mission together, far from Snoke’s watchful eyes.

“I love you,” Rey murmurs against his lips, climbing into his lap and twisting her fingers into his hair. “Ben, I love you so much, I thought I could hide it but–”

He gently pulls her off his lap, presses a soft kiss to her forehead, and promptly runs back to their ship where he locks himself inside his quarters for the rest of the day.

“Ben,” Rey knocks hesitantly at his door a few hours later. “Ben, I’m sorry. I thought you… but it’s okay if you don’t. It was stupid. I’m stupid. Please, can we just forget this and go back to normal?”

She moves from pleading to making light of the situation to raging against him for being a child and running away from his problems. Forty-five minutes later her voice has grown hoarse and thick with tears and he can barely make out her whispered, “Please, please, Ben, I can’t lose you, you’re all I have, please–”

He opens the door without warning, and she nearly falls over from where she’d been leaning her head against it.

Rey quickly wipes her tears away and flings her arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, we can pretend it never happened and go back to the way we were, I’ll never say anything again–”

“You’re a child,” Ben whispers brokenly into her hair. “You’re a child and I’m a fucking monster for this.”

“Am not,” Rey mutters, stepping back to shove at his chest. “I’m seventeen, and you’re only twenty-two, and I know I was just an annoying little kid when we met but… I’ve changed, right?” she asks quietly, her hand curling into the fabric of his shirt. “So why can’t we?”

The young woman standing before him doesn’t look anything like the child he rescued from the desert. And therein lies the problem, really.

When Rey was tiny and weak and scared, it was easy to protect her, natural even. He simply did for her what no one had ever done for him, what he’d always wished his parents had done. When she grew taller and stronger and more confident of herself he was proud, and he told himself it was the kind of pride family felt for one another, the kind of pride he’d always hoped to inspire in his own kin. But then Rey grew beautiful and brilliant and began to hold her own against him, and it became clear that she no longer needed his protection, that she wasn’t that tiny little kid anymore.

And suddenly, as if that realization had shattered a dam Ben never even knew about, everything was different. Teasing looks became heated glances, playful interactions gave way to charged moments, and now here they are, Rey’s hand over his heart and her heart in his hands.

“Ben?” she whispers, eyes wide and lower lip caught between her teeth and–

“Force help me,” he mutters before he pulls her close and curls one finger under her chin to tip her face up, meeting her halfway for a kiss. “Force help me, but I love you too.”

It’s the first of many stolen moments, far and few in between for the next two years until the day Snoke announces that Kylo is ready to be stationed at a flagship of his own and Kira will be allowed to go along as part of her training.

They’re still so, so careful, but there are nights when they risk sleeping in the same bed. On one such night, Rey curls into his side and says, “If I only get one good thing in this life, if I only get one thing to call my own in this whole galaxy, I want it to be you.”

“I’m already yours, sweetheart,” Ben tells her, pulls her closer and kisses her like it’s the last time.

It is.

They start sparring together.

There’s surprisingly little to do as Supreme Leader, and even less as a Knight with no mission. At first they try to keep their distance, to make sure they never head to the training room at the same time. Then they start going at the same time but separately, backs turned to each other with half the room between them.

Then Rey shows up just as he’s practicing with his saber, deftly twirling the hilt in one hand, and her little scoff draws his attention. “Show-off,” she accuses, lingering in the center of the room when usually she’d immediately head over to her side without so much as a hello.

“I’d like to see you do better,” Kylo retorts, and suddenly it becomes a daily routine for the two of them, an almost-playful dance between two adversaries who know they’ll never catch each other, who know that’s not the point at all.

It’s almost like old times, when he taught her how to fight in this exact room, and sometimes Kylo just can’t help it, sometimes he looks at her from across the room while they’re cooling down and wishes things were different.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Rey growls on a particularly noteworthy day, having disarmed him four times and pinned him down twice.

“Like what?” Kylo asks innocently, leaning against the wall.

“Like you… like we… I don’t know, just stop!” she demands, throwing her bottle at his head. It sails across the room in a perfect arc, and he ducks just in time. “Stop looking at me like that, stop holding back when we fight, stop treating me like I’m fragile and you don’t want to hurt me!”

“I don’t know how to stop,” Kylo says, dares to move closer; distance isn’t going to stop her if she decides to aim more projectiles at him, anyway. “I don’t know how to stop loving you,” he admits, eyes intent on Rey as he steps into her half of the room.

Rey summons her saber and lights it up. “Stop lying!” she screams as she charges at him. “It was all just a trick to make me weak. You never loved me, you led me on like a fool and made me love you but you never loved me back!”

“Of course I loved you back!” Kylo insists as his own saber comes to life, and it’s barely a moment’s work to disarm Rey, her eyes swimming with tears and her movements clumsy with emotion. She engages him in hand-to-hand, tries to kick his legs out from under him, so Kylo wrestles her to the ground and pins her underneath him instead. “How could you even think that, Rey? Of course I love you, I’ve always loved you. Stars, you’re the only thing in this whole forsaken galaxy that I’ve ever loved.”

He looms over her, hands pinning her arms to the ground and face just a few inches above hers. Rey shakes her head desperately, tears streaming down the side of her face as she struggles underneath him.

If she really wanted to, she could throw him clear across the room with just a thought.

Kylo leans down and presses their foreheads together, calms her down with tiny, soothing noises as he slips into her mind. It’s easy, painless, as familiar to him as his own and as natural as breathing – after all, he was the one who taught her how to hide the island in her mind, how to navigate the ocean around it.

“Shh, just show me, Rey,” he asks gently, and so she does.

She shows him memories of how he started eyeing her predatorily when she was just a child, of how he both thrilled and terrified her in equal measure, of how he made her succumb to him, made her give him everything while he gave her nothing but pretty words and empty promises in return. And then: the day Snoke found out because he was the one to tell their master, because it was a trap all along and he only made her fall for him so that he’d have a weakness to exploit when they dueled each other in order to prove their worth to Snoke. In her mind he is snarling and vicious and out for blood, and it’s only by some unlikely miracle that she finally cuts him down and proves herself to her master.

Rey’s anguish is still fresh even after all these years, and he finds himself crying into her neck as he retreats from her mind. “Rey, no. No no no no no, this isn’t how– I would never– I love you, I’ve always loved you, please remember, please come back to me.”

Her hands slip out of his hold, and seconds later he feels her fingers carding through his hair. “Then prove it,” she whispers, gently guiding him back up to look at her. “Show me the truth. Show me you love me.”

So he does, pressing his forehead to hers once more and telling her to take anything, everything.

Their bond, dormant for two years, begins to stir as Rey hesitantly slips into his memories. It had been forged in a situation much like this one, after all, the two of them inviting each other into their minds to see the dreams they shared, the future they hoped to have.

In his mind Rey finds memories of their earliest days together, how he taught her to keep her thoughts safe and did everything he could to protect her from their master. She discovers that she was the one to kiss him first, that she’s always been the one to lead while he struggled to reconcile their new relationship with the much more innocent one they used to share. She remembers the secret side-trips they would take during missions and the memories they made together, the hopes and dreams they shared with each other late at night, the night she dreamt of their family and Snoke discovered everything.

She relives how he deliberately let her land a hit that day in Snoke’s throne room because he couldn’t stomach the thought of Snoke punishing her, and slowly opens her eyes.

“You kept the scar,” Rey whispers through tears, one hand gently tracing the faded line down his cheek.

“It was the only thing I had to remember you by,” he confesses.

Rey bites her lip to muffle a sob, shakes her head as fresh tears stream down her face. “Ben,” she cries, and surges up to kiss him.

He’s fifteen when his parents send him to Luke.

They’ve spent years arguing over the decision, his father refusing to back down, refusing to let his kid ‘get all tangled up in this mumbo-jumbo’.

And then Ben gets so angry he causes a mini-tornado inside their house, and the next thing he knows Han is dropping him off on Yavin 4 with a poorly concealed look of fear lurking in his eyes.

Luke doesn’t fear him, not at first, and that’s a welcome change from how it’s been at home so Ben decides it’s not too bad, being here. But then there are thoughtful looks, moments when Luke considers him with a slight tilt to his head and shadows in his eyes. And then there are concerned looks, when Luke crosses his arms in reproach after an incident and tells him he needs to try harder. And then finally, Luke looks at him with fear in his eyes and stumbles backwards, turns and runs into the forest. It’s almost a relief because it’s been hanging over him for nearly a year now, the knowledge that it’s coming, that one day he’s going to wake up and Luke will have that look in his eyes, the one his mother has always had, the one his father had the last time they were together.

The day it happens, Ben already has a bag of supplies hidden under his bed and a crappy but working ship hiding in the forest. Luke comes back while he’s packing, an apology dying in his throat as he realizes what Ben is doing.

“Ben, please, I’m sorry. I saw something from my past and I freaked out, it wasn’t fair of me–”

“No, it wasn’t. It’s not fair that you look at me and see a ghost. It’s not fair that my mom looks at me and sees a monster. It’s not fair that my own dad looks at me and sees a stranger.”

“You have to understand–”

He shoulders his bag and brushes past his uncle. “Goodbye, Luke.”

Luke sighs in defeat. “Let me know when you reach home, at least. And tell your mother I’m sorry I failed the both of you.”

He doesn’t say a thing, just keeps walking into the forest until he’s in the ancient ship he’s been fixing up whenever he has a spare moment between Padawan chores. When he finally breaks atmo, the coordinates he types in aren’t for any of the planets his family calls home.

Ben heads right for the darkness, the thing in his head that’s been calling out to him for as long as he can remember, the thing that sent Jedi Master Luke Skywalker running into the forest like a scared child.

Snoke welcomes him without a moment’s hesitation, looks at him like he’s something to be prized rather than feared. It’s the first time in his life that he hasn’t felt like a burden, a mistake. So when Snoke tells him that there’s another Force-sensitive out there who needs his guidance, another lost kid who’s all alone and scared, he wastes no time in getting on a ship and heading straight for Jakku.

She’s eleven when he finds her, a tiny little thing fighting off Teedos and slavers with a staff that’s too big for her. He can feel it, though, the way the Force guides her movements, the way it strengthens her limbs. Luke Skywalker would take one look at this girl and see disaster. But Ben and Snoke, they look at the girl and see potential.

She glares at him when he approaches her, her staff held out threateningly even as her tiny chest rises and falls rapidly as she tries to regain her breath.

“Do you want to be strong?” Ben asks without preamble.

The girl looks at him cautiously.

“Come with me and no one will ever even think of hurting you again,” he promises, getting down on one knee to make himself less intimidating as he offers her his hand. “You’ll never have to be scared again.”

“I’m not scared,” the girl scoffs, a defiant tilt to her chin. The accent surprises him; Coruscanti, in this desert hellhole? How in the world did she even get here?

He remains on his knee, one hand held out to her. She considers it for a long while, looks up at him and allows her hardened features to melt into something hesitant. “I’m not scared… I’m just lonely.”

Ben knows loneliness all too well. “So come with me,” he says, “and you’ll never be lonely again.”

The girl lowers her staff. “Promise?”

He nods. “Promise.”

Staff secured in one loosely curled fist, she surges forward to take his hand. “I’m Rey. Who are you?”

The name he should give her is Kylo Ren, the name his master has just bestowed upon him. “I’m Ben,” he says instead, and they walk hand-in-hand to his ship.

He wakes up a few hours later to something out of a dream: Rey, wearing only his shirt, sitting on the foot of his bed as she stares out the viewport in his room.

She doesn’t turn around, her eyes still fixed on the stars. “He took you from me,” Rey says quietly. “He took everything that was good and beautiful about us and twisted it. He took our bond and told me it was something dangerous, something I had to lock away. He took our love,” she chokes, her voice thick with emotion, “and convinced me that it was a weakness, something to be ashamed of, something to hide away.”

Ben crawls over to her and pulls her into his arms. “He’s dead now,” he reassures her, rubbing soothing circles into her back. “He’s gone forever, and we have each other back.”

Rey turns in his arms to look him in the eye. “Let’s burn it to the ground,” she growls. “Everything he stood for, everything he worked so hard to establish – I want to burn all of it to ash.”

“Then we will,” Ben promises her easily, brushing his lips against the bare shoulder exposed by his too-big shirt. “We’ll destroy the First Order and start something new. Anything you want.”

“I just want to be with you,” Rey murmurs, leans in to kiss him soft and slow now that they've got all the time in the world.

It’s a new galaxy, with him at the helm of the First Order and his parents somewhere out there trying to mobilize their forces against a threat that no longer exists. And Rey, Rey is something new too, the woman he’s always loved and the woman he’s always tried to protect her from becoming, the terrifying Kira to his Kylo. There’s a whole new life just waiting for them, so many possibilities and no more obstacles.

Ben disentangles their limbs, slides down to the carpeted ground of his quarters and gets on one knee. Rey stares at him with the stars from the viewport reflected in her eyes, with the stars he’s always glimpsed within her eyes when she looks at him.

“Rule with me,” he whispers, holding out a hand to her the way he first did all those years ago. “Be my Empress. We’ll make something new out of the ashes, we’ll build an Empire, and nothing in this galaxy will ever tear us apart again, no one will ever have the power to come between us.”

The old Rey would’ve said no; the old Rey wanted them to run away, to leave it all behind, to hide in a tiny cottage and live a quiet life and raise their children away from the rest of the galaxy.

Rey takes his hand.

And nothing comes between them ever again.

I had Big Plans for this AU but then I ran out of time and wrote it at some ungodly hour in the morning while being sleep deprived so here we are. But hey, it's needlessly long as usual so at least I'm on-brand. Also, second flashback fic in a row. What am I doing???

As always, thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed at least some part of this hot mess, and please don't hesitate to reblog/like/comment!

#reylo au week #reylo #rey/kylo ren #rey/ben solo #reylo fic #star wars #rey #ben solo #kylo ren #canon divergent #fic: mouth of the devil #my fics #fic archive

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jonghyundroppedthesoap · 7 years

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My Number One Fan

Chapter 29 Pairing: JongKey Word Count: 2,131 Summary: Kibum goes to the same, run-down bar every week to watch the man of his affections sing his heart out with a mere guitar for company. He wasn’t expecting the coffee, nor the beautiful personality within the singer. And he definitely wasn’t expecting to fall in love.

A/N: a short, but eventful chapter! a few warnings for homophobia and swearing, but other than that, hope you enjoy the drama!! <3

Everything was over. All of his hard work, his caution, and his ingenious lies. In the end, it was all for nothing, and Kibum couldn’t help but pray to the gods for forgiveness at what that implied. He could hear his heartbeat pounding loudly in his chest and the apprehension which soaked his every limb was making it difficult to breathe. He could feel the pure disgust and anger exuding off his father beside him, and couldn’t help but feel sympathy for his teacher and what she was about to endure.

It was silent. Almost too silent. The room was chilling and every tiny sound was decipherable within the enclosed space. Kibum tried desperately to breathe at an even pace, but it was futile. He was much too nervous to think rationally, on edge at the look which he knew his father was sending his way.

The man’s cold voice broke through the silence, striking Kibum with a bout of unadulterated and genuine fear directed at his own father.

“What do you mean Jonghyun doesn’t go to this school?” he gritted through bared teeth, large hands gripping the table so tightly that his fingers turned white.

Kibum’s teacher coughed awkwardly in embarrassment and hurriedly flicked through her files once more. “I’m sorry, sir…the only Jonghyuns we have at this school are first years. Maybe you’re just thinking of someone el—“

Her feeble attempt at reducing the tension came to an abrupt halt as Kibum’s father roughly stood up, his chair falling down behind him at the sheer force. “Then tell me, son,” he spat, glaring down at the boy with an almost sickening anger in his eyes. “If Jonghyun doesn’t go to your school, then who the fuck is that creep you’ve been spending so much time with? The one who’s been corrupting you?!”

Visibly shaking, Kibum could only shake his head, unable to find any words which could defend his current predicament. His mother too sat ghostly beside him, staring forward at nothing in particular with a mixture of guilt, fear and sympathy for her son.

“I-It’s Jonghyun,” Kibum stuttered feebly, “He just…He just doesn’t go to this school, is all.”

Kibum’s father growled in his throat, before promptly grabbing the neck of Kibum’s shirt and wrenching him to his feet. “First the fucking dancing and now this? I’ve just about had it with you, boy.” the man snarled menacingly, giving Kibum one last, repulsed look over before shoving him back into his chair and taking a seat.

Desperate to change the subject of conversation to anything except what they were talking about, Kibum’s mother started awkwardly. “Well…How about the project Kibum’s told us all about? The one with Amber?”

At her seemingly innocent words, Kibum’s blood ran cold, and judging by the expression upon his father’s face, he was equally aware of Kibum’s utter trepidation and was basking in it.

It was apparent that the teacher didn’t want to say anything more which would evoke an eruption from the man before her, however crumbled beneath their stern, expectant glares. Kibum’s family really were something else, and she briefly gave one of her favourite students a sympathetic smile before turning back to the monster beside him. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I haven’t assigned anything like that…perhaps one of Kibum’s other teachers—“

But her excuses were futile, for Kibum was already being strewn from his chair and onto the cold floor below. No resonating ‘slaps’ sounded throughout the room – instead, Kibum’s chair had merely been kicked over by his raging father, whose beet red face loomed over Kibum’s frail form.

“Pray tell me, Kibum, because I’m very curious...” the man began, taking another step forward. Kibum desperately scurried back onto his feet and took an instinctive step back. “If you haven’t been with Amber for every godforsaken time of day, then what the fuck have you been doing? Oh wait, let me guess. You’ve been with that Jonghyun boy – if that’s even his name – committing all kinds of indecent acts that he forced you into.”

Kibum could handle a lot of the bullshit that his father tended to spurt out. But accusing Jonghyun of something so atrocious and disgusting? Clenching his fists so hard that he was certain there would be crescent marks imprinted into the skin, Kibum could no longer contain the rage and hatred for his father which had been gradually building up for far too long.

“Don’t you dare accuse him of something like that, you sick bastard.” Kibum scowled, ignoring the startled gasps of shock which sounded from the women. “Unlike you, some people in this world actually have a few shreds of decency and don’t take out their anger and issues on harmless kids. So don’t you fucking dare chide me for spending time with someone who actually cares about me and my wellbeing, and who would gladly go out of their way to make sure I was safe and happy. You’re the indecent creep, and sometimes I wish you would just die!”

The teacher and Kibum’s mother looked at each other with mutual expressions of distress, before nodding to each other in a silent expression of agreement. The two noiselessly lifted from their seats and made way towards the door, knowing that there was simply nothing else they could do but seek help. Kibum’s mother gave her son one last look over her shoulder as she left, eyes soundlessly screaming at him to ‘stay safe’.

Jonghyun strolled down the school’s hallways and through the waiting families casually, giving every class a quick peak through the window in an attempt to find where Kibum was. He, quite frankly, wasn’t really meant to be here, and had flushed in utter embarrassment the few times a teacher had seen him staring in at them shamelessly. But he had, after all, been invited by Kibum’s mother a few weeks ago, and Jonghyun figured that he looked enough like a student to not raise any suspicions.

Once he got to Kibum’s classroom, Jonghyun wasn’t quite positive of what he was going to do. Sure, he could wait outside and surprise Kibum on the family’s way out, or poke his head in and say hello. But Kibum’s father was still in the picture, and Jonghyun didn’t think that he could ever confront that man after what he had overheard from his position in Kibum’s wardrobe.

The singer continued to contemplate these strategies as he pressed his face against multiple more windows in search of Kibum, sighing in disappointment each time his eyes were met with unfamiliar strangers. But it seemed that Jonghyun didn’t have to search for long, because all of a sudden two women came hastily around the corner, one of whom Jonghyun immediately recognized as Kibum’s mother.

“Mrs Kim!” he exclaimed, smiling widely at his luck. “I’ve been looking for you guys.”

Kibum’s mother smiled fondly at the man which she had recently learned was the object of her son’s affection, but her grin was immediately replaced by a frown of worried desperation. “J-Jonghyun,” she stuttered. “It’s Kibum. He’s fighting with his father and things are getting bad and I just don’t know what that brute might do—“

But Jonghyun was already running down the hall towards the classroom which the women had come from, only one thought resonating throughout his head. If that harsh slap had been brought about by Kibum simply making a joke, then Jonghyun didn’t want to even think about what would happen to his boyfriend if the two males were actually arguing. He was vaguely aware of the two women which trailed behind him but paid them no mind, simply barging through the door of the classroom which he could decipher the loud shouts were sounding from.

“—not have these unnatural tendencies infecting my son. They started because of him, and we both know it!”

“Did you ever consider that maybe that’s just who I am?! No one caused this but me – I’m sick of you controlling my life, okay? Stay out of my goddamn business, because I swear to god if I hear one more threat or insult from your dirty, old mouth, I’ll put arsenic in your coffee and smile as you choke.”

The middle aged man stepped forward with a growl in his throat. “Is that a threat, boy? I’m fucking done with all your bullshit. I knew from the moment I saw you, you were a fag… I tried to put a stop to it, I really did. But you’re beyond help, boy – you’re sick. Constant lies from your filthy mouth, that makeup shit you’re always putting on your face, the dancing…If it doesn’t stop, boy, then you better get out of my goddamn house and never come back.”

Jonghyun, despite his utmost fear and guilt, ran forward and stepped between the two, gently pushing Kibum to the side. The younger boy’s expression immediately morphed into surprise, then relief, then worry, before finally settling on downright dread.

“P-Please sir,” Jonghyun stuttered. “I think that’s enough…You need to think rationally, Kibum’s your son!”

The room fell silent, before all of a sudden a burly fist came flying out of nowhere and smashed Jonghyun ruthlessly against the face. The sheer force of the blow knocked Jonghyun off his feet and back onto the rough floor below, ears ringing as his head rebounded painfully against it.

“Don’t interfere. This is between the boy and I, and the last thing we need is berating from the son of a bitch who got us into this mess to begin with.”

Upon impact with the ground, Kibum had ran immediately over to Jonghyun and knelt by his side, making sure that the older boy was alright. A trail of blood ran down his chin and his head pounded painfully, but other than that, Jonghyun was fine, eliciting Kibum to sigh in relief.

Kibum’s father watched the exchange with revulsion, adding coldly, “Besides – that fag is not my son.”

Those words stung Kibum more than he’d ever let on, but he merely glared up at the man with insurmountable hatred. “Glad the feelings are mutual,” he spat, grabbing Jonghyun’s hand and helping the older boy stand up.

“Don’t think you’ll be allowed back at my house.”

Kibum ignored his father and simply smiled sadly at his teacher who had witnessed the whole, horrifying ordeal. “I’m sorry about what happened, Miss. I’ll come talk to you at lunchtime tomorrow or on Friday.”

She smiled back. “See you, Kibum.”

Kibum began to walk out of the classroom, Jonghyun’s hand locked in his. He hovered beneath the door frame, and looked back one last time at his mother, searching for something that even he wasn’t quite sure of. But her gaze remained firmly locked on a poster situated above the teacher’s desk, not straying even as Kibum shut the door firmly behind him.

The pair walked solemnly down the hallway hand in hand, eventually reaching Kibum’s locker. Kibum unlocked it almost mechanically, grabbing out his homework for the night and shoving it into the bag he had brought along.

“Kibum?” spoke Jonghyun softly, afraid to break the silence.

“Mn?”

Tears stung Jonghyun’s eyes, and he began pitifully. “I’m so sorry, Kibum.” he choked out. “For everything. I didn’t know that things were so bad at home, but I should have paid more attention. I let you stay with that…that monster…and I did nothing.” The tears began to run down Jonghyun’s face as he spoke, mixing with blood as he tasted salt on his tongue. “When I heard him hit you from the wardrobe, all I could do was run home and cry – I didn’t even get out of bed until yesterday. I-I’ve been so pathetic, Kibum. I don’t deserve someone like you…I let you go through all that shit, and now all I can do is say sorry. I shou—“

“Jonghyun.”

The older boy looked up, startled.

“I love you.”

If possible, Jonghyun’s tears began to fall even harder, watching with wide eyes as Kibum hands lifted gently to wipe them away. He smiled radiantly, and to Jonghyun, it was the most beautiful site in the world.

“I’m not the one meant to be crying right now,” he laughed softly, face flushed from both his tears and embarrassment.

Kibum leant forward and pressed his lips soundly against Jonghyun’s. “I love you.” he repeated, staring into Jonghyun’s eyes with nothing but pure admiration.

Jonghyun grinned, kissing Kibum back delicately as his arms wrapped around the younger’s waist. “I love you too.” he whispered into the embrace, and for just a moment, the two boys forgot about everything which had occurred and allowed themselves to submerge into a world where they were the only two that mattered.

#jongkey #chaptered #fanfic #drama #romance #high school au #2min #mnof #29 #ourshineeshrine

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fenton-bus · 5 years

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'Unsuccessful' is not the adjective Iris would use to modify the shiny, abrupt, hellscape of an evening whose debris she currently stands amidst. 'Terrible' is too kind. 'Unfortunate' suggests that there some course of action she could have taken to prevent this. The phrase 'Dumpster fire' is a good start, 'study is the subtle art of wtf' is better.

"Disaster having unprotected sex with catastrophe and popping out the apocalypse" is disqualified, mostly because Cisco is saying it aloud at about the same time Kara starts applying her laser vision (and yes, that is a thing that currently exists uncomfortably close to Iris's entire life) to what was once a wall in her apartment and now mostly resembles a canvas on which some experimental artist does her least inspired work.

It should not be this difficult to come up with something. Words are her weapons, they can topple empires, and comfort the downtrodden, and on rare occasions ignite the soul and ugh, no. If she has more than three Long Island Ice Teas there's always a point in the evening where she comes very close to crying over Christian Amnpor. Damn it. Anyway, words do her bidding on a daily basis, so it's a little disappointing to find herself mentally flipping through her tragedy specific Thesaurus unable to come up with a single descriptor.

It's a testament to Cisco's dedication to their friendship that despite being properly drunk and a little blown away, he's sitting up on the couch and earnestly attempting to make words. Iris would help him out but she's still a little...

(Kara, with whom Iris shares a fifteen by twenty foot cubicle for a year, bashfully apologizes for essentially setting Iris' kitchen on fire then walks out on the balcony and proceeds to fly the fuck a way.)

The food she spends a large percentage of the evening preparing-all of which is completely edible and not at all burnt-is decorating the dinning-room floor. Well, that's not entirely accurate. Some of the more ambitious chunks of macaroni and cheese have rolled into the living room to huddle in a weird semi-circle around the couch legs. Her dining-room table is in two relatively even pieces. It's not an IKEA refund but there is something to be said about the precision of lasers. Fun fact: Five minutes after Iris opens the wine (is it weird that opening wine makes her feel like an actual adult?) and ten minutes before she no longer has a table, the twitchy dude Kara insists is a friend from trivia night pulls out his guitar from seemingly nowhere and decides their previous conversation about women's rights should be punctuated by a Jason Miraz cover. Said dude is now glaring into the middle distance while absentmindedly strumming his g-chord. Barry is standing in her dining room making what looks like a sincere and heartfelt speech that Iris can't hear a word of.

Maybe it's the overhead fan.

Maybe it's the repetition of that horrible g-chord.

Maybe it's the steady roar of Kara taking off into the Manhattan sky like a 747.

And Barry is a genius, so it wouldn't be too difficult for him to draw a causal relationship between the specific way her casual Friday get together went down in lasers and her sudden allergy to the spoken word. It should be noted that his attempt to be a calming influence is somewhat undermined by the fact that he's wearing what look like scarlet pajamas.

Oh, with lightning bolts.

Iris would totally believe that he was attending a Greek God-themed slumber party as Hermes if she hadn't just recently seen him appear in her doorway as a blur and materialize from actual beams of light. So again, if any part of what he's saying involves the words "calm" or "stay" in relation to her Iris just might have to scream. Post-traumatic T.G.I.F.-event Cisco, who pre-games in his apartment and arrives a bit tipsy, glances between Iris and Barry wearing the heartbroken expression that clearly communicates he thinks his parents are divorcing. Jumpy Goatee Guy allegedly adept at bar trivia (what is his name? what is her life?) is still glaring like that middle distance did something terrible to his ancestors. Barry is making all kinds of conciliatory hand gestures, which is still a little irritating and a lot baffling because his hands are kind of vibrating? Yeah.

She thinks she might need to sit down. Maybe.

It's feasible, the couch is only a couple of feet behind her. She's already lifted her right arm to take two solid swallows from her wine glass so she's no longer paralyzed with fear/shock/disgust/wonder cocktail. So that's...something.

The thing is Kara doesn't just fly away like a bird or a Boeing 747 or Newton's Laws of physics, she flies away in pursuit of someone else. Who was also flying. Meaning that there were two (2) individuals with the capacity for flight in her apartment at the same time. Iris West currently has the monopoly on flying persons, her neighbors, nay the entire Upper West Side should probably start rationing their laser-inclined flying humans because wow, market cornered. In less awesome news, some unknown person with a soft spot for flight was in her house (where she does some of her best sleeping) for an unspecified amount of time that could have began any time between her pulling her comforter over her head in silent protest against the very idea of consciousness and when she kicks her door open at 7:30 wither hers full of grocery bags and a bottle of '74 Mount Blanc sporting a leak that wouldn't make itself apparent until Iris went back out to collect the neglected morning Times and finds Mr. Welman's Shitzu on her way to properly smashed.

In the hours before running downstairs to greet her guests, Iris had taken her shoes off, checked her messages, complained to herself aloud about Aspiring Office Asshole Todd Garret, disliked eight Facebook posts made by mutuals who only remained so out of her desire for family gatherings to remain peaceful affairs, taken a nap, considered buying a plant that's genetically bred to die more slowly, listened to music, avoided calling her mom, got a few chapters farther into Going Clear, pre-heated the oven, threw her Bird of the Valley into the trash shoot, started dinner, danced to the entirety of Lemonade in her kitchen, finished dinner and enjoyed a pre-dinner snack of olives and cheese. All of this to say she could've died while listening to Sia. At the close of Iris' harrowing tale (sans airborne reporters and dudes turning into energy) Linda Park will grab Iris' hands consolingly, then spend the next hour detailing horrifying hypothetical's about her home invader going through her closets and smelling her bath salt. (She'll preface it with "I'm so glad you're alive!" but only because Linda's biggest fear is some stranger going through her stuff. Not even taking anything just...handling it.)

So to summarize: Iris' Friday is ruined, she has all manner of flying, laser-y, pajama-d, oh-hey-I'm-actually-made-of-light individuals coming in and out of her place like it's Grand Central Station for X-Men and hey look at that, her wine is gone. Barry is still talking, gesturing first to the broken table, then to Cisco with those diplomatic communication hands and Iris doesn't actually have time to wonder in what way Cisco is like a broken table because Twitchy Goatee Jason Miraz decides this is the perfect moment to take a running leap off of her balcony.

∞

Her hands are shaking so badly she has to push the elevator button four times before it lights up. A week later, she'll remember all the particulars of this elevator ride. Leaning against the wooden panels, trying to catch her breath, the guard rail digging into her back, titled upward toward the number panel but seeing nothing, nothing, the incessant buzzing of her phone in the right hand pocked of the coat she'd grabbed for blindly, feeling her fingers close around the two small, sinewy objects and a thin filmy scrap, registering dimly that she saw The Avengers in this coat and her breathing grows so loud in her ears that she can't hear anything else.

∞

Iris thinks she might have to retire her fingers.

The fight with the lock is ugly and she's earned the scratches on her knuckles by the time the door finally relents.

Future Iris will return to this moment and remember the way Linda Park and Patty Spivot jump apart like the most 90s teen cliché' there ever was, with a fond eye-roll. The amount of noise she's just made gives them plenty of time to adjust themselves but robs Linda of the opportunity to try really hard to look casual while also having a heart attack.

Present Iris is a little busy kicking the door down to fully appreciate the pure sitcom gold inherent in the situation. Linda must have taken her distressed expression as some kind of personal indictment because she manages to yell "I thought you gave me your key!" and "We're dating?" in a way that feels like one statement.

#iris best #barry 'bereft of chill' allen #oh hell no #kara the el-der #fuck yes #and we're spivoting #superlative salad #borderline unwatchable super hero shows on a network that repeatedly attempts to present Tyra Banks as an asset #inter-dimensional found fam #outlines and outliers

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shirlleycoyle · 4 years

Text

What the End of the Universe Will Really Be Like, According to a Theoretical Cosmologist

Apocalyptic visions have always percolated in humanity’s collective imagination, whether it’s the Rapture, Ragnarök, or a future asteroid impact like the one that killed the dinosaurs. In recent decades, however, scientists have managed to establish some rough parameters around the ultimate Doomsday: the death of the universe itself.

Katie Mack, a theoretical cosmologist at North Carolina State University, explores these terminal diagnoses for the cosmos in her new book The End of Everything (Astrophysically Speaking), which packs a huge amount of scientific research into forecasting the eventual fate of our universe.

“It doesn’t end well,” she warned in a call.

Before you scribble “end of universe” onto the list of things keeping you up at night, take comfort in the fact that the really bad stuff will happen in the far-future of the cosmos, at least tens of billions of years from now. You will be long dead, as will Earth and the Sun. The senescent universe will be a time and place totally alien from our own surroundings, far more fantastical than any the feverish apocalyptic visions of myth or fiction.

“I get asked a lot: How do you deal with thinking about these big topics, like ultimate destruction? How does it affect your outlook?” Mack said. “I think all you can do is go to the absurd in the sense that there’s no way to conceptualize this stuff with daily experience.”

“It’s like the universe is laughing at this idea that we can have an orderly and safe environment in which to live,” she added. “It very much upends our notion of stability in our world. I don’t know how to respond to that other than just laughing at it, because it’s not personal.”

We asked Mack to unpack a few of the juiciest apocalyptic scenarios in The End of Everything (Astrophysically Speaking), which is out from Scribner on Tuesday.

Heat Death: When time ceases to matter

The universe will most likely perish in a state of total disorder known as Heat Death, when the direction of time as we experience it ceases to matter and just about anything may be possible, according to cosmologists.

In this scenario, space just keeps expanding until galaxies fall apart, all the stars burn out, and even atoms decay and disintegrate. At this point, the universe will have reached a point of maximum entropy, or disorder, rendering the “arrow of time”—the difference between the past and the future—meaningless.

“Time still happens, but you have lost the directionality in some sense,” Mack explained. “It’s based on the fact that the way we define past and future, from a strictly physics perspective, is that the only thing we know about that really cares about the difference between past and the future is the second law of thermodynamics, which is entropy.”

“If you can get to a point where entropy is maximized, where you can’t create more entropy, then it’s hard to say that time is really meaningful in a global sense anymore,” she said.

Needless to say, some trippy stuff could end up happening in a universe that has maxed out on entropy and faded into a vast and eternal bath of thermodynamic equilibrium. For instance, Mack describes the Boltzmann Brain problem, which involves “disembodied sentient brains popping in and out of existence,” according to the book. This, and anything else—a whale materializing next to a bowl of petunias, or a piano assembling itself from nothing—becomes increasingly likely in such a scenario.

Such wild imaginings stem from the sheer slowness of the Heat Death, a decay that could take a googol (10 to the power of 100) years to really get rolling. Those huge timescales boost the odds of totally bizarre random events occasionally happening in a fizzled-out cosmos—including, potentially, the birth of a new universe.

“The nice thing about the Heat Death is that you have a lot of time,” Mack said. “If you want to make sure that you get a lot done in your universe before it goes out on you, then maybe the Heat Death is the best option.”

The Big Rip: When gravity breaks and the Earth explodes

The Heat Death is the probable outcome of the accelerated expansion of the universe, but cosmic expansion may also lead to a less likely, yet far more violent, end of everything: the Big Rip.

In this scenario, objects in the universe don’t drift apart and decay into maximum entropy. Instead, a point is reached at which the expansion of the universe ultimately tears apart the fabric of spacetime itself, like a cloth sheet that splits when stretched, causing the force of gravity to lose its trademark grip.

In a chilling section of the book, Mack describes exactly what this fate would look like to us on Earth if it was approaching in the near-future. “Our night sky begins to darken,” she writes, “as the great Milky Way swath across the sky fades. The galaxy is evaporating.”

“We begin to find that the orbits of the planets are not what they should be, but are instead slowly spiraling outward,” she continues. “Just months before the end, after we’ve lost the outer planets to the great and growing blackness, the Earth drifts away from the Sun, and the Moon from the Earth. We too enter the darkness, alone.”

It sounds lonely, I know, but take heart: we would only have to bear this isolation for a few hours before the Earth blows up.

The explosion of Earth due to shredded spacetime certainly makes for a cinematically exciting scene. But if we are fated for a Big Rip, it is not likely to happen for about 200 billion years. That’s a lot sooner than the standard Heat Death scenario, but it is well beyond the lifespan of our solar system, Earth, and (probably) humanity.

That said, there may well be alien civilizations in the future, or perhaps descendants of our own species, that could have to face this horrifying reality. “I think it’s entirely possible that there could be life still around on those timescales,” Mack said.

If there are still sentient beings at that point, and the Big Rip does come to pass, all we can do right now is offer our sincere condolences to them from the distant past.

Vacuum Decay: A sudden end

Heat Death would kill the universe slowly and softly, while the Big Rip is a much swifter assassin. But if you’re looking for the fastest end to existence, Vacuum Decay is the cosmic Doomsday for you.

“I have a special place in my heart for Vacuum Decay,” Mack said. “Partly, because it’s just so out of left field and such a bizarre possibility that has only really been very seriously talked about in the last few years.”

“But also because it’s quick and painless and you don’t notice it,” she added. “So that’s nice.”

This outcome is a bit of a dark horse, though its profile has been raised thanks to the recent discovery of the Higgs boson particle by the Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland. One of the implications of this breakthrough is that our reality may not be all that fundamentally stable in ways that could have rather abrupt consequences for life, the universe, and everything.

The universe could be a “true vacuum,” which means that objects in it are always able to find their lowest energy state, creating some level of cosmic stability. However, the Higgs field appears to be “metastable,” which raises the possibility that the universe may be a false vacuum.

Theoretically, this means that if the Higgs particle were to sense a true vacuum, it would be attracted to that environment. This is very bad for us, because it would trigger the spontaneous destruction of the universe in what Mack calls “a bubble of quantum death.”

Unlike the creeping dread of the Heat Death or the Big Rip, the Vacuum Decay apocalypse would kill us all in a snap. The death bubble would simply expand its borders at the speed of light, incinerating everything in its path with ruthless efficiency.

“In terms of the aesthetics of it, or the practical implications of what actually happens to you, maybe vacuum decay is a nicer option,” compared to the Heat Death or the Big Rip, Mack said.

In principle, Vacuum Decay could happen at any time, but cosmologists think it is far more likely to happen tens of billions of years into the future, similar to the other end-times scenarios. We will need to keep pushing the boundaries of particle physics and cosmology in order to develop the idea, but it’s not considered a probable end to the universe at this time.

“It’s just a super fun thing to work on because the implications are so big,” Mack said. “We can learn a lot about our cosmos by assuming that it could happen.”

*****

The universe will likely continue to exist for several hundred billion years to come. But thinking about its ultimate end seems particularly resonant in 2020, a year that has taken on its own identity of apocalyptic mayhem.

It’s understandable to be exhausted by the horrors of the Covid-19 pandemic and the economic devastation it has wrought, or by the rapid onset of climate change with its myriad disasters, or by the threat of authoritarian leaders and brutal state violence.

Reading about the ultimate death of the universe may not assuage those fears, but it will immerse you in the astonishing weirdness of our wider surroundings, and remind you of the ingenuity of scientists who have spent centuries trying to read the cosmic tea leaves.

“There is a kind of luxury about being able to think about things that are disconnected from you and not just everyday survival,” Mack said. “It’s real and it’s destructive and everything is torn apart, but maybe that’s a way to displace some of the feelings of angst and desperation that you might have in daily life.”

What the End of the Universe Will Really Be Like, According to a Theoretical Cosmologist syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

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bountyofbeads · 5 years

Text

Syrian troops enter towns in northeast as Erdogan warns of wider offensive

By Erin Cunningham, Sarah Dadouch and Kareem Fahim | Published October 14 at 12:02 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted October 14, 2019 5:30 PM ET |

The abrupt withdrawal of U.S. troops from Syria has unleashed dramatic developments, with Syrian government forces retaking territory long held by U.S. allies and Turkish-led forces expanding their offensive. Here’s what we know so far.

●Syrian government troops have moved back into towns in northeastern Syria for the first time in years after U.S.-allied Kurdish fighters, in a stunning reversal, reached a deal with the government.

●Turkish-backed rebels have begun a push to retake the northern city of Manbij, which has long been a flash point.

●Hundreds of Islamic State family members have escaped a detention camp in Ain Issa, which has been the administrative capital of the Kurdish-led government in northeastern Syria.

ISTANBUL — Syrian rebels allied with Turkey launched a fresh offensive on Kurdish fighters in the flash point city of Manbij, broadening a Turkish-backed military campaign as forces loyal to Syria’s president deployed in key towns to ward off a wider assault.

The operation, part of an offensive called Peace Spring, comes amid a rapid U.S. withdrawal from northern Syria as Turkish forces and their proxies battle Kurdish fighters in towns and cities along the border, plunging the region into chaos.

President Recep Tayyip Erdogan said Monday that Turkey was “in the process of implementing our decision on the subject of Manbij,” a town about 25 miles west of the Euphrates River.

Turkey has long demanded that the United States, which partnered with Kurdish forces in Manbij to battle the Islamic State militant group, expel the fighters from the town. Turkish officials complained that a deal struck with Washington to remove the fighters — who lead the Syrian Democratic Forces, or SDF — was not being implemented.

On Sunday, U.S. officials declined to confirm reports that troops had withdrawn from Manbij and another border town, Kobane.

Syrian Kurdish authorities said they struck a last-minute deal with the government of President Bashar al-Assad to allow Syrian troops to reenter towns across northeast Syria, following days of heavy Turkish airstrikes and artillery shelling against SDF positions.

While the details of the agreement remained unclear, Syrian government forces deployed in several locations in the area for the first time in years, state media reported. Images from Ain Issa, the headquarters of the autonomous Kurdish-led administration, showed Syrian troops arriving atop pickup trucks and waving government flags. In Tel Tamer, a village near the Turkish border, a crowd threw rice and candy as it approached a line of Syrian soldiers.

“With our soul, with our blood, we sacrifice for you, Bashar!” the people in the crowd said, reciting a chant praising the Syrian leader.

The sudden return of Assad’s forces to areas of northeastern Syria promises to further roil security in that region, analysts said, and marks a stunning reversal for Syrian Kurdish authorities, whose fighters once controlled a wide swath of territory.

A statement from the Kurdish-led administration said Monday that the agreement was a “military deal to protect Syria’s borders and Syrian sovereignty against Turkish aggression.”

“The understanding that took place yesterday, between the autonomous administration and the SDF on one side and the Syrian government and Russia on the other, was restricted to the Syrian army deploying along the border,” said Luqman Ahmi, a spokesman for the Kurdish administration. Russia is a key ally of the Syrian government.

“There has been no political agreement until this moment,” he said. And “the autonomous administration will continue to govern these areas as it has been doing before.”

Turkish officials view the Kurdish fighters in Syria as terrorists for their links to the Kurdistan Workers’ Party, or PKK, which has waged a decades-long war for autonomy inside Turkey. Its military launched the operation with allied Syrian rebels to oust the SDF from the Syrian-Turkish border, where it planned to establish a buffer zone.

As the campaign escalated, aid agencies pulled out of the area, and President Trump ordered the final withdrawal of all U.S. troops in the coming weeks.

On Monday, Trump suggested, without evidence, that Kurdish forces may have purposely released some Islamic State prisoners amid the fighting to prevent U.S. troops from withdrawing from the region.

“Kurds may be releasing some to get us involved,” Trump said Monday on Twitter. “Do people really think we should go to war with NATO Member Turkey?”

On Sunday, hundreds of family members of Islamic State fighters escaped a detention camp in Ain Issa after Turkish shellfire hit the area.

Security has generally deteriorated around a constellation of camps housing families that fled battles against the Islamic State — among them the relatives of militants. About 950 foreign women and children were among potentially thousands of escapees from the Ain Issa camp.

The United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs said late Sunday that it had “grave concerns” for the population of the camp, which hosts about 13,000 civilians.

On the road to al-Hol, a sprawling camp holding 70,000 people disgorged from the Islamic State’s final scrap of territory, SDF forces also have pulled back.

“It’s quiet in the camp for now, but we’re all scared of the uncertainty,” said a medic, speaking on the condition of anonymity because she was not authorized to talk to the media. “We thought that America would protect us here. Why are they walking away?”

Dadouch reported from Beirut. Louisa Loveluck in Irbil, Iraq, and Asser Khattab in Beirut contributed to this report.

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In the Middle East, there’s one country every side talks to: Russia

By Will Englund | Published October 14 at 12:14 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted October 14, 2019 5:30 PM ET

MOSCOW — In the not so distant past, no reference to Saudi Arabia in the Russian media would be complete without one official or another denouncing its radical Wahhabi Islam as an extremist threat to Russia’s own way of life.

But there was President Vladimir Putin Monday, descending from his plane in Riyadh, Sauid Arabia, to the echoes of a 21-gun salute and traveling to the royal palace with a cavalry escort.

Less than four years ago, Turkey shot down a Russian warplane near its border, prompting fears of a widening conflict between those neighbors as they faced off in Syria.

Yet today, with the withdrawal of American troops from northeastern Syria, analysts agree it now falls to Russia to restrain Turkey through talks and persuasion.

Several years of adroit diplomacy and politicking have left Russia in a new and untested position in the Middle East: It is the one country all sides can talk to.

Saudi Arabia and Iran, for instance, have nothing but deep enmity for each other, yet Moscow maintains good relations with both Riyadh and Tehran. In a sense, it plays one off the other, Mark Katz, a professor at George Mason University who studies Russia and the Middle East, said in a recent interview.

“You don’t like the Iranians in Syria?” he paraphrases the Russian message to the Saudis. “Then it’s a good thing we’re there to keep an eye on them.”

The Turks loathe Syria’s leader, Bashar al-Assad. Russia is Assad’s staunchest ally, yet Russia just sold an antiaircraft missile system to Turkey.

Now Putin wants to sell one to Saudi Arabia, too. Plus a nuclear power plant.

“Saudi Arabia appreciates Russia’s active role in this region and in the world,” King Salman bin Abdulaziz Al Saud said Monday as he opened talks with Putin.

“In Soviet times, relations between Saudi Arabia and the Soviet Union were at a rather low level. In recent years, the quality of our relations has changed dramatically. We consider Saudi Arabia a friendly nation,” Putin responded.

Analysts say that American confusion, bungling and missteps — especially in the past few days — have opened the door to the Middle East for Russia. Moscow, by not talking about human rights and transparency, is a welcome change of pace from the West, they say. Putin finds common ground with leaders as diverse as Assad of Syria, Recep Tayyip Erdogan of Turkey, Hassan Rouhani of Iran and even Benjamin Netanyahu of Israel. Russians do not scold the Saudi prince, Mohammed bin Salman, over the 2017 murder of Jamal Khashoggi, the journalist.

But experts question whether Russia, having established diplomatic beachheads, has the means to bend the Middle East to its will. “They don’t have enough oomph to turn it,” said Heather A. Conley, a former U.S. diplomat who is now at the Center for Strategic and International Studies.

The American withdrawal from Syria gives Russia an even freer hand in that country. Turkey’s invasion of Kurdish areas does not directly threaten Russia’s interests. In fact Turkey offered Russians the opportunity to persuade the Kurds to start talks with Assad’s government. The mutual recriminations between Turkey and the United States — two NATO allies — give Russia even more to build on as it attempts to weaken the Western alliance.

Dmitri Trenin, head of the Carnegie Moscow Center think tank, said in a tweet that Russia’s influence in Syria “has been again tested and proven strong” by the Kurds’ decision to talk to Damascus. “Keeping contacts with all, including Turkey, and having a clear view of one’s own interests and thus a coherent policy is paying off.”

Yet the dramatic turn of events of the past few days has led to signs of an underlying uneasiness among some in Moscow.

“The Turkish military invasion in the north of Syria has only complicated the situation in the region,” Konstantin Kosachyov, head of the foreign affairs committee in the Federation Council, Russia’s upper house of parliament, wrote on his blog. “Trying to solve its problem by military means, Turkey creates a new one and exacerbates the old ones.”

Invading a neighboring country, he wrote, is not an effective counterterrorism tactic.

Russia, he concluded, must call for more substantial dialogue.

There is not a great deal else it can do while it waits to see how the invasion plays out.

Vladimir Dzhabarov, the deputy head of the Federation Council foreign affairs committee, suggested that Russia and the United States could jointly broker further talks between the Kurds and Assad’s government.

Syria is just one item on the agenda during Putin’s visit to Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates. The price of oil is another — both Riyadh and Moscow believe its price should not be allowed to go too high. Russia wants to pursue a number of energy and military deals — that nuclear power plant being one of them. They will also talk about the attacks on a Saudi oil refinery last month and on an Iranian tanker on Friday. Another topic sure to come up is war-torn Yemen, where Saudi Arabia and Iran back opposing sides — both of which, as it happens, have had cordial talks with the Russians.

It is a balancing act for Moscow: Sow some friendship with one side, then the other; sow some uncertainty at the same time, get some deals done, some boots on the ground. Katz argues that Russia does not have an actual strategic goal for the Middle East. It wants to continue as a player and prevent any one side from becoming dominant.

“They’re dependent on keeping the pot simmering but not boiling over,” he said.

It is not clear, he said, that is possible in the long run.

***********

Trump’s retreat in Syria turns into a mess

By Ishaan Tharoor | Published October 14 at 12:59 AM ET | Washington Post | Posted October 14, 2019 5:30 PM ET

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A week ago, President Trump shocked Washington and announced he wouldn’t impede an imminent Turkish invasion of northeastern Syria. Now, in the space of just a few days, his administration is already reaping what it sowed.

Turkey’s incursions at various points along its border with Syria began on Wednesday and, by the weekend, had already plunged the region into chaos. Turkish artillery pounded Syrian Kurdish positions, while footage emerged appearing to show Turkish-affiliated militiamen carrying out grisly roadside executions of Kurdish fighters allied to the United States. Tens of thousands of panicked civilians attempted to flee the Turkish-led advance, raising fears of an eventual exodus into Iraqi Kurdistan, where more than a million people displaced by conflict still live in camps.

Trump, who spent part of the weekend at one of his golf courses, insisted on Twitter that his country ought to be rid of its commitments in the “quicksand” of the Middle East. Secretary of Defense Mark T. Esper told CBS’s “Face the Nation" on Sunday that the United States was now in “a very untenable situation” and would evacuate its roughly 1,000 troops in northeastern Syria entirely.

“The order to remove troops came Saturday, toward the end of a chaotic day in which the viability of the U.S. mission in Syria rapidly unraveled after Turkish troops and their Syrian rebel proxies advanced deep into Syrian territory and cut U.S. supply lines,” my colleagues reported. It flew in the face of the Pentagon’s assurances last week that the United States would not “abandon” its Syrian Kurdish partners, who have been on the front lines in the war against the Islamic State and borne the brunt of the casualties in a U.S.-led campaign.

But security headaches have only mushroomed amid American maneuvers to withdraw. Hundreds of Islamic State detainees may have escaped a prison camp run by beleaguered Syrian Kurdish fighters. Separately, in the late hours of Sunday, reports indicated that Syrian regime forces were also converging on areas once guarded by the Syrian Democratic Forces, the Kurdish-led alliance now in Turkey’s crosshairs.

Hung out to dry by the United States, the SDF turned to Syrian President Bashar al-Assad for protection. A senior Syrian Kurdish politician told Reuters that SDF officials met counterparts in the Assad regime at a Russian air base in Syria to hash out a deal. By Sunday evening, the SDF confirmed that, to repel or stall the Turkish invasion, it had invited the regime into areas it had formerly controlled with U.S. protection.

For many on the ground, this seemed an inevitable and relatively welcome outcome. “For the regime to intervene and deploy its forces on the Turkish border is a comforting thought,” a Syrian Kurdish woman, who gave her name as Nowruz, told my colleagues. “If a deal with the regime is what it takes to stop these massacres, then so be it. At the end of the day, we are all Syrians, and the regime is Syrian, too.”

Turkey’s thinly veiled goal in launching the invasion was to smash Rojava, the name for the autonomous enclave in northeastern Syria carved out by the SDF over the past few years. Ankara views the main Syrian Kurdish faction as a direct outgrowth of the PKK, an outlawed Kurdish separatist group that has fought a bloody decades-long insurgency in Turkey. If northeastern Syria falls back under the security umbrella of Damascus, that may in and of itself be a satisfying outcome for the Turks. Russia’s role in brokering the rapprochement between Assad and the Syrian Kurds after the Turkish invasion may be a sign, analysts suggested, of a tacit Syrian endgame being thrashed out by the Turks and the Russians.

Meanwhile, the Trump administration painted itself as a somewhat helpless bystander. “We have American forces likely caught between two opposing advancing armies,” Esper told CBS. In his Sunday tweets, Trump seemed to wave away any interest in the battle and reiterated his position that it’s “very smart not to be involved in the intense fighting" along the Syrian-Turkish border. This followed reports Friday that Turkish artillery appeared to be firing multiple “bracketing” rounds near positions manned by U.S. Special Forces, an astonishing act by a NATO ally that U.S. officials thought was deliberate.

Trump attempted to underscore his point of view with a garbled history lesson, but it only emphasized his lack of genuine engagement with the intricacies of Middle East policy. He brought up a supposed incident in 2017 when “Iraq was going to fight the Kurds in a different part of Syria” and his critics then also urged the United States to stand by their Kurdish allies. But no such event took place. Trump was possibly thinking of the Iraqi government’s seizure of the city of Kirkuk — in Iraq — from the control of fighters affiliated with factions based in the semiautonomous Iraqi region of Kurdistan.

Whatever the case, some experts argued that the sudden American departure from northeastern Syria was inevitable — if not the chaotic manner in which it’s being carried out. Trump has been determined for months to pull out U.S. forces. The American support of the SDF — no matter the great affection for the Syrian Kurdish fighters among U.S. politicians and military officials — was always in conflict with Washington’s need to keep Turkey on its side.

At the same time, somewhat in opposition to the president, senior Trump officials steered a policy that let the SDF think it had “indefinite” backing from the United States. They also pursued an ambitious agenda of ending Iranian influence in Syria, a goal that is deeply at odds with Trump’s desire for an exit.

“For three years we have kidded ourselves about this, and those that pushed policies at odds with Trump, working to sketch out a maximalist policy that ignored Ankara’s obvious intent, and the wishes of the world’s most powerful man, should be ashamed," said Aaron Stein, director of the Foreign Policy Research Institute, to Al-Monitor.

***********

U.S. allies in the Mideast consider their options as Russia’s Putin visits the Gulf

By Adam Taylor | Published October 14 at 12:47 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted October 14, 2019 5:30 PM ET

Russian President Vladimir Putin landed in Riyadh on Monday for his first state visit to Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates in more than a decade, emphasizing not only coordination between three of the biggest oil producers in the world but also Moscow’s growing influence in the Middle East.

The timing may be especially fortuitous for Putin. President Trump’s announcement last week that the United States would be pulling out of northeast Syria, as well as his equivocation over the conflict with Iran, has left many traditional U.S. allies in the region nervous.

Some, such as the Syrian Kurds, already argue they have been abandoned, but the wider implications are still being felt in Riyadh, Abu Dhabi and even Jerusalem. Notably, Russia maintains relations in all those cities, even as it works with rivals in Tehran, Damascus, Syria, and Ankara, Turkey, and faces U.S. sanctions.

“We build bilateral relations that rely on positive trends generated by our contacts; we do not build alliances against anyone,” Putin said in a joint interview with Saudi-owned Al Arabiya, Sky News Arabia and RT Arabic that aired Sunday.

Putin’s trip to Saudi Arabia and the UAE marks his first state visits to the countries since 2007. It shows continuing warming ties between Russia and the two Gulf States, which were traditionally Western allies with little ties to Moscow during the Cold War and which, until recently, maintained relatively modest trade links.

It is part of a strategy that puts Moscow at the center of Middle East politics. Putin recently announced he intends to visit another U.S. ally, Israel, early next year. Embattled Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu visited Russia to meet with Putin last month, just days before a bitterly contested election.

Saudi Arabia and the UAE, as well as Israel, had viewed the Trump presidency as a chance to reinvigorate their relationship with the United States. But while they appeared to favor Trump’s decision to pull the United States out of the 2015 nuclear agreement with Iran and other world powers, as tensions across the Persian Gulf grew, there were increasing doubts.

A crippling attack on key Saudi oil facilities last month raised new questions about Saudi Arabia’s ability to protect itself, even with its expensive relationship with the United States and the masses of U.S.-made weapons it buys. The United States announced Friday it would be sending 1,800 troops to Saudi Arabia, but the president emphasized the financial aspect of the deal.

“Saudi Arabia, at my request, has agreed to pay us for everything we’re doing,” Trump told reporters. “That’s a first.”

The announcement that troops would be sent to Saudi Arabia came as U.S. forces were abruptly pulled out of northeastern Syria, allowing a Turkish offensive that threatened to devastate Syrian Kurds, who had been instrumental in the fight against the Islamic State.

The U.S. pullout resulted in a last-minute agreement between forces loyal to Syrian President Bashar al-Assad and Kurdish forces, once on opposing sides of Syria’s long-running civil war. Since an intervention in 2015, Russia has been allied with Assad, providing air power and other support in an often brutal conflict.

Russia had played a key role in three days of negotiations that led to the agreement between the Syrian government and the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), a primarily Kurdish military alliance in Syria’s northeast, a Kurdish intelligence official told The Washington Post.

Moscow has good relations not only with the Kurds and Syria, but also with Turkey. Though Turkey is a member of NATO and an ally of the United States, Russia began deliveries of its S-400 missile defense system to Turkey in the summer, hastening a spat between Ankara and Washington, which suspended Turkish involvement in the U.S. F-35 fighter jet program in response.

The S-400 system is considered one of the most advanced missile defense systems in the world, but most U.S. allies have avoided purchasing it for fear of angering Washington. Last month, after the attack on Saudi Arabia’s oil facilities, Putin jokingly suggested at an event in Ankara with Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan that the kingdom should have purchased the weapons.

“The political leadership of Saudi Arabia just needs to make a wise state decision,” Putin said, pointing to the purchase of the S-300 missile system by Iran and the S-400 missile system by Turkey. Iranian President Hassan Rouhani, also in attendance at the event, was shown smiling after the remark.

Russia ultimately remains far weaker than the United States in a variety of ways. Its economy has suffered greatly under sanctions, and it has suffered a number of humiliating military setbacks in recent years; even its vaunted S-400 system remains untested in real life.

But with longtime partners Syria’s Kurds finding themselves at odds with Trump’s Middle East plans, and even those with many friends in Washington such as Israel’s Netanyahu unsure of their footing, allies such as Saudi Arabia and the UAE may see Russia as a more reliable alternative — even if it is opposed to the United States and allied with many of their own rivals.

In his interview with Arab media outlets on Sunday, Putin emphasized the positives of his relationships with Saudi Arabia and the UAE but made no secret of his government’s ties to Iran and Syria. He said that while his government did not need to mediate, it could play a role.

“What you can do is maintain a friendly conversation with them and present some ideas from a friend’s perspective,” Putin said. “I am convinced that as highly intelligent people, they listen and analyze everything they hear.”

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The four biggest foes of America that gain from Trump’s Syria pullout

By Rick Noack | Published October 14 at 8:49 AM ET | Washington Post | Posted October 14, 2019 5:30 PM ET

When President Trump announced his decision to pull troops from northern Syria, his critics immediately warned that the move would pave the way for a Turkish offensive with potentially catastrophic repercussions.

State Department officials swiftly denied that Trump supported the Turkish incursion. Meanwhile, Trump appeared convinced he had made the right choice.

“Turkey, Europe, Syria, Iran, Iraq, Russia and the Kurds will now have to figure the situation out,” Trump wrote.

They now indeed are, but not to the advantage of the United States.

“What’s clear is that the U.S. has shot itself into the foot,” said Ali Fathollah-Nejad, a visiting fellow at the Brookings Doha Center.

Who are likely winners?

The U.S. pullout has enabled Turkey to pursue its military incursion without having to fear U.S. interference, but it has also created opportunities for four of the United States’ key foes: Iran, the Assad regime, Russia and — potentially — the Islamic State group.

Who is set to lose most?

The biggest losers — it appears at this stage — are the allies who fought alongside U.S. soldiers in Syria: Europe and the Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF).

The former are afraid the move will free Islamic State prisoners held in Kurdish prisons and camps and expose Europe to new militant attacks after a period of relative calm. The latter had established a de facto state in the north of Syria during the past years — in large parts in places previously ruled by the Islamic State. The Kurds hoped their territory was somewhat protected by a U.S. military presence that acted as a deterrent.

How did we get to this point?

Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan has long viewed the Kurdish-held territory in Syria as a haven for the Kurdistan Workers’ Party, or PKK — which Erdogan considers to be a terrorist group.

Meanwhile, to the south of the Kurdish-held territories, Russia and Iran-backed Syrian President Bashar al-Assad have been waiting for an opportunity to seize back the cities and swaths of land he lost during the war.

Trump’s announcement of a pullout one week ago offered an opening for both Erdogan and Assad. On Wednesday, Turkish troops began their offensive at multiple points along the Turkish-Syrian border. Turkish artillery fire on the Kurds, a mass exodus of civilians and apparent footage of roadside executions of Kurdish fighters soon followed. Hundreds of Islamic State family members escaped detention, according to Kurdish officials.

Without U.S. backing and amid mounting chaos, the Kurds appeared to face the choice between a deadly confrontation with the militarily superior Turkish forces — or a deal with the Assad regime.

By Sunday, the SDF had opted for the second option: They announced a deal with the Syrian government to allow forces loyal to the regime to enter its territory. By Monday, Syrian government troops were raising flags in the towns close to the Turkish-Syrian border in a move that could make the presence of the remaining U.S. troops in the region unsustainable.

How do the Assad regime, Russia and Iran benefit?

With the United States voluntarily giving up much of its leverage in Syria, Russia has probably the most to gain. Throughout the Syrian civil war, Russia has staunchly supported the Assad regime. During the weekend, the New York Times revealed that the Russian Air Force deliberately and repeatedly bombed Syrian hospitals in rebel-held areas, indicating how far Russia is willing to go to support Assad.

But apart from military force, Russian President Vladimir Putin has also pushed ahead with diplomatic initiatives, positioning him at the center of the Syrian morass. The U.S. pullout expands the Russian leverage in at least two ways.

Firstly, the strengthening of the Assad regime would inevitably also bolster Russia, a key backer.

But ironically, it could also help to deepen Moscow’s ties to the country Assad’s forces may now face off in northern Syria: Turkey. With the United States potentially poised to impose sanctions on Turkey, as Trump indicated Monday, Russia’s rapprochement with Turkey could speed up — despite the countries’ differing interests in Syria.

From Russia’s perspective, this apparent contradiction may not seem so contradictory at all. In the past, Moscow has argued that SDF fighters should yield control to the Assad regime. The Turkish incursion and U.S. pullout may lead to exactly such a scenario, as Sunday’s deal between the SDF and the Assad regime appeared to suggest.

The developments of the past week may also be an opportunity for Iran, another backer of the Assad regime. The U.S. pullout, said Brookings researcher Fathollah-Nejad, “will expand Iran’s opportunities to engage with Kurds and portray itself as the only reliable partner.” This could help Tehran restrict the Kurds’ drive for empowerment, which Iran opposes.

But Fathollah-Nejad cautioned that Russia’s and Iran’s interests in Syria were not necessarily aligned and that the Turkish incursion may still end up becoming a “double-edged sword” for Iran, which explains why Iranian officials have officially condemned the Turkish offensive.

Iranian officials may fear a radicalization of Kurdish separatism, said Fathollah-Nejad, and a full-blown resurgence of the Islamic State.

How does Islamic State gain?

Amid the backlash against his decision to pull U.S. troops out of northern Syria, Trump went on the offensive last week and blamed European countries for what he suggested was a lack of willingness to take back Islamic State fighters born in Europe and held by the Syrian Kurds.

“Europe had a chance to get their ISIS prisoners, but didn’t want the cost,” Trump reiterated on Monday.

European officials have rejected Trump’s criticism, arguing that Islamic State returnees would in many cases walk free in Europe, as authorities often lack evidence for crimes committed in Syria or Iraq. Despite fierce criticism from human rights advocates, major European governments have opted to leave Islamic State fighters in Kurdish detention.

The U.S. pullout has resulted in an outcome detrimental both to U.S. counterterrorism officials and their European counterparts. Some 785 people affiliated with the Islamic State escaped from a camp on Sunday, according to Kurdish officials.

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magnaturbaestinurbe-blog · 6 years

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Maybe it's the overhead fan.

Maybe it's the repetition of that horrible g-chord.

Maybe it's the steady roar of Kara taking off into the Manhattan sky like a 747.

Oh, with lightning bolts.

She thinks she might need to sit down. Maybe.

∞

Iris thinks she might have to retire her fingers.

The fight with the lock is ugly and she's earned the scratches on her knuckles by the time the door finally relents.

Future Iris will return to this moment and remember the way Linda Park and Patty Spivot break jump apart like the most 90s teen cliché' there ever was, with a fond eye-roll. The amount of noise she's just made gives them plenty of time to adjust themselves but robs Linda of the opportunity to try really hard to look casual while also having a heart attack.

#Iris Best #superlative squad goals #modern woe aus

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buttonthedruid · 7 years

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A Blackwell in bed

…So warm, Star thought as she shifted to her left side carelessly embracing the warmth. Her right hand instinctively slid outwards and immediately came into contact with something warm, naked, and hard. A frown creased her brow as her hand absently stroked the object that lay under her. Her sluggish mind was unable to identify what she was feeling until she heard the swift intake of breath. Her hand froze mid stroke as her eyes flew open. The realization that she was not alone in her bedroom caused her heart to beat at an irregular rate. Taking a very slow breath she pushed against the very bare, very broad, and very male chest, which her head had been pillowed on, and met the intelligent gaze of Mr. Blackwell, her archenemies. Dramatic perhaps, but the guy seemed to have caused her nothing but trouble ever sense she had bumped into him at a Christmas party Sarah, one of her closest friends, had invited her to. She inwardly cringed as she recalled the monstrous look on his face when she had tripped over the rug in the hall and drenched him in champagne. At the time she had been drunk and a bit intimidated as he, without saying two words, grasped her upper arm and proceeded to drag her to the nearest bathroom. She had been lucky that Arthur had been there and, seeing the look in the man’s eyes, had intercepted them with ease and grace. She had later learned that her mysterious executioner had been none other than Mr. Claude Blackwell a wealthy cattle rancher who had recently developed an equine therapy program for children. He was a close friend of Jeremy, Sarah’s husband, and had just stopped by because he his flight had been delayed until the following Thursday. After that he seemed to turn up at the most random times in the most random places. Her face turned red as she became aware of the fact that the man beneath her was not only naked but was also quite aroused. A small sound of distress escaped her lips as she quickly shut she eyes and jerked the skewed bed sheet over his lower half. Unsure on what to do or say she did the only thing she could think of and that was to run. Without a word she rolled off of the bed and practically ran out of the bedroom and into the master bathroom, where she closed the door and slid the lock home. Once behind the locked door she quickly showered and dressed apprehension clawing at her as she tried to remember how she got herself into this situation. Sadly she couldn’t remember the events from the previous night. Hearing nothing from the bedroom she slowly opened the door to find her room empty. Holding her breath she tiptoed slowly out of the master room and down the hall. As she neared the kitchen she smelt coffee and the beginnings of breakfast. She vainly stood there with her eyes tightly closed willing the creature in her kitchen to vanish. She knew that the heavens had abandoned her when she heard him call from the kitchen, “Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to come in here and eat something?” Letting out a sigh of defeat she wandered into the kitchen and took a seat in the chair he indicated to. “Uh, you don’t have to cook anything,” She started lamely as she looked everywhere expect at him. His eyes narrowed as he took in her appearance. “That maybe so, but I would rather walk off a cliff than be caught in the same building as you while you use a gas stove,” He replied harshly as he sat down a cup of coffee in front of her and then turned back to the stove. Feeling the prick of his words she didn’t bother to correct his assumption. With his back turned she allowed herself to gaze at him. He stood about six foot three with short black hair and skin that had been kissed by the sun a time or two. By all means he was a very attractive man, but over the course of a few week Mr. Blackwell had fabricated rather harsh assumptions about Star’s competence level as well as her sex life. Half of want he said made her want to throw something at his face, but alas such actions would only serve to prove Mr. Blackwell’s number one goal in life, make her life hell. As if realizing that he was under scrutiny he turned and arched an elegant eye brow in question. Irritated and ashamed that she had been caught staring her face took upon a shade of pink and she quickly looked away. “Hmmm. I didn’t know women of your statues could still turn pink with a look,” He mused sardonically as he placed two plates full of food down onto the table. Unwilling to allow him to bully her in her own home she opened her mouth to tell him exactly where he could go but stopped short when she hear the front door bang open and close and loud voiced filled the home. “Get the hell away from me!” Came a harsh voice as there was a sudden crash of something breaking. “Will you calm down,” came a patient reply. Knowing those voices Star quickly got up and moved towards the living room but was drawn up short when Blackwell halted her movements with a hand on her upper arm his eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t read. “Stay here,” He grounded out in a tone that meant absolute obedience, as he moved towards the living room. Not willing to be seen as a weakling she shoved past him muttering, “Like hell! This is my house!” At the expense of almost being knocked over by Mr. Blackwell who was not a step behind her, Star came to an abrupt halt as she saw the mess. Her eyes filled with tears as she saw her roommate and best friend on the floor, surrounded by broken glass, and drunk out of his mind yelling at the other man who seemed to stand with his shoulders hunched. “Oh, JJ what have you done,” she whispered as she shook off Mr. Blackwell’s hold and rushed to her best friend’s side. Kneeling in broken glass Star gently cradled JJ’s bloody hand between her two smaller ones. “What have I done?!” He rasped, his breath reeking of alcohol. “It isn’t me Starfire, but him!” JJ glared at the imposing man in question. Star looked at Arthur and knew immediately what had happened. Had Mr. Blackwell not been present she envisioned this scene being played out a little differently, but because there was so much secrecy her heart broke for them both. “It’s okay JJ,” She crooned as she brushed back a lock of blond hair from his forehead. “Let’s get you in bed and I can take care of your hand.” Suddenly as if unable to endure anymore stress JJ slumped forward his eyes fluttering shut on the unshed tears. Starfire’s arms reached own and held him without complaint. At once Arthur moved forward and knelt beside them. Nodding his head at her he lifted JJ into his arms, cradling the big man to his chest as if he were a child. Without a word Arthur carried JJ into the bedroom and closed the door behind them. Blinking away tears Star shifted and began to pick up the broken pieces of glass. Distracted by her own feelings and actions she didn’t notice the slight movement behind her until it was too late. Letting out a sound of distress Star found herself in the arms of Blackwell her face inches from his. She began to protest but was cut off by his monstrous gaze and painfully tight embrace. “Say a word,“ he whispered, "and you will not like what happens next.” Swiftly and with much ease Blackwell carried her back into the room which they had shared. Kicking the door shut with more force than needed Blackwell laid her gently on the bed. Placing a hand on either side of her head, effectively caging her in, he searched her wide eyed face. “Now, Starfire are you going to stay on the bed or am I going to have to physically restrain you?” He asked. When she didn’t respond he leaned closer. "Your answer?” “I-I’ll stay,” She stuttered as she tried to push away her confusion and fear. He searched her face one last time before nodding his head and easing off of the bed. Turning he walked into the bathroom and within seconds he emerged carrying a first aid kit. “Wha-,” The words were lost and gave way to a yelp as Blackwell jerked her pants legs up revealing two matching bloody gashes across both shins. Turning his head he noted the paleness of her skin and the unshed tears caused by pain. “This may hurt a little but don’t worry I know what I’m doing,” He said tenderly his eyes going to her fists that grip the bed sheet in pain. Turning he began his work cleaning her wounds…

#writing #short story #words #my writing #my words #my world

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