#literally nothing makes me anxious the way that caring for an animal in a delicate state of health makes me anxious | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delicrieux · 3 years

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☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 24: OH...HI

after months and too much longing, you finally meet corpse in person.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 3.8k

author’s note: we did it joe.

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

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You woke up. That’s a lie, you didn’t sleep. Too much to plan, too much can go wrong and you’re...Not nervous, no, that’s not quite accurate. Excited. Yes, excited, so excited that two Redbulls and three coffees (so far!) make you jitter around the apartment like a butterfly that can’t find a flower bed to rest on.

Rae has almost had enough of your...random spurts of energy. So what if you ran a few laps, climbed a few tables, sang karaoke a bit too loud and yet another noise complaint had been issued? It arrived exactly an hour after your concert via your displeased landlord. Rae was, of course, the one to apologize because you were too busy trying on miniskirts. After that ordeal was taken care of, no sooner than Rae shut the front door with an exhausted sigh, you emerged from your room clad in your prettiest outfit. You present it to her with a bright smile and flourish.

She is not impressed.

“Will you quit it?” She questions, arms crossed over her chest. Your grin does not damper -- you’re used to such harsh treatment, having accepted her backhanded way of showing love long ago. Instead, you flick your wrists, showing off an ungodly amount of rings. You’re not certain of the exact number because you can’t count, “Y/n.” Her voice gains an edge, but you persist. Show off your shoes that have cute lil’ charms that jingle jangle not unlike the spurs on a hot cowgirl’s boots, “Y/n.” Her eyes narrow in displeasure, her stern tone making you falter in your dramatic stride down the imaginary catwalk, “Just stop.”

Okay! So maybe you’re not as used to her coldness as you thought you were. Your expression sours, and you quit the act, even if a part of you - one you barely fight off, goodness, you almost perish in that battle - wants to continue but even more annoying. As if you could somehow block her rationality with manic energy.

“What?” You ask, trying to keep the mood lighthearted despite her squared shoulders and tight frown, “I’m just having a bit of fun!” You say with a joyous little laugh, reaching for a glass of much needed water.

“No, you’re panicking.” Her words make the glass still, hoovering by your painted lips, but it’s short lived. You take a greedy gulp and it tastes fresh with a pinch of lipstick, “Look, I get it...” She shakes her head softly, “You’re meeting the guy you like for the first time, you jumped the gun straight to dating and now you’re...Anxious. It’s normal, you know.”

“But I’m not anxious.” You persist, and you really do mean it. You don’t like how she looks at you as if you’re the one that’s misunderstanding your own feelings. You set the glass down with a soft clink, heaving your own sigh, “I’m not, I’m really happy actually.” You explain softly, “It’s just...my way of dealing with it. I’m more... Worried about Corpse, to be honest.” You add, a tad quieter, “But, like, it’s all good!” You exclaim, strolling up to her and landing your hands on her shoulders, “I prepared.”

And it’s true! You had spent the night scouring the depths of the internet. Read every WikiHow article on how to deal with someone with extreme anxiety, how to not make things painfully awkward, and how to talk to boys (just in case. The last time you stumbled upon that particular article was way back in middle school when you had a crush on that one guy you saw in your school’s cafeteria every now and then. Naturally, that led you down the rabbit hole, and according to WikiHow’s How To Tell If A Boy Likes You guidebook, you found out that he was absolutely enamored with you because he glanced in your direction, like, two times. Safe to say that love story went nowhere. The point still stands).

So you forward all of this information to Rae, nestled in her bed whilst she lazily folds her clothes; clarify that you know that nothing much can happen, and that this whole situation is delicate, and that you must tread carefully because you don’t want to overwhelm him. She pauses her actions, glancing behind her to watch you staring idly at the ceiling, so peaceful, so thoughtful. And it’s not the eerie calmness you had displayed during your murderous spree in the last Among Us game, no, it’s just...quiet understanding.

“I’m actually impressed.” She says. You merely hum, counting the dust slowly descending in the cascading light, “You’re not as clueless as I thought.” Your lips quirk into a shy smile at the compliment- “Or as tactless.” - and turn downward just as quick.

“That implies that I’m always tactless.”

“You are.” She states and you sit up, a soft frown pinching your brows, “Not like, in a terrible way. You just...don’t think about your actions. Or the repercussions. You just know that you can get away with everything.”

“And I can!”

“That doesn’t actually mean you should do something just because you can. You know I’ll always support you. Literally everyone will always support you. But I’m not gonna coddle you. You’re just...a lot. Online and especially in person. But the fact that you’re actually taking this seriously and taking his feelings into consideration is...well, the bare minimum, but still, good job.”

...Much to think about. You don’t like thinking, it makes your head hurt. Though, that could just be the lack of sleep. You cross your legs and plop your head in your hand, tired eyes blinking owlishly, “Do you...think I should change what I’m wearing?”

Prompted by your question, she gives you a careful once over, “I mean, it’s signature you.”

“Signature me is a hoodie and some sweatpants.”

She smiles, “Then go change. Your outfit is a bit distracting for just...Hanging out indoors, no? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind either way, though.”

“I just...” You bite the inside of your cheek, mulling your words over. Truly, the last time you were so attentive was when you went Psycho Mode in Among Us, which, to be fair, wasn’t that long ago. Perhaps there wasn’t a chance to let your mind dull - it’s almost as sharp as your butterfly knife, “I figured that if, like,” You vaguely motion with your hands, “if I be, like, all over the place, and wearing something cute, he’d be, like, distracted? And less anxious? No...awkward silence?”

“First meetings are always awkward, it’s natural.” She chimes, “I mean, if you’re so nervous-”

“I’m not nervous!”

“-then just don’t overthink it. I know it’s easier said than done, but you’re you, and Corpse is Corpse, and he likes you for who you are, and even if it is a bit awkward, I’m sure it’ll, like, blow over in a second. It really doesn’t matter how you look, Y/n.” She grins, “Plus, it’s not like you’re greeting him in your underwear or something.”

You will not admit that that was your plan B, not when you just landed in her good graces. You nod, “...I’ll go change.”

And so you do. Pick out your cutest hoodie and some sweatpants. Put away your jingle jangle shoes with a broken heart, instead of them donning your fluffiest socks; slip off some rings because they keep falling off of your fingers. It’s almost like all of those transformation scenes in rom-coms that are still popular for some reason, except you’re hot before and after, so there’s really no transformation at all.

Now you wait. Just wait, all other activities are excluded from this. Rae comes back to find you sitting on the edge of your bed, back straight, hands neatly folded on your lap. She compares you to a Sim’s character and you allow her. After mercilessly mocking you and snapping a few pictures - for blackmail, you assume - she helpfully informs that she is leaving because she doesn’t want to get in the way, but your psychic abilities which you acquired just now tell you that she simply doesn’t want to witness this train wreck. Not that it’ll be a train wreck, it would be if you were nervous, but you aren’t.

You just aren’t. You fidget with the rings adoring your hand; toy with the hem of your hoodie; bounce your leg up and down. It’s just caffeine, okay?! Fuck this, Twitter time.

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[ADDING A MUSICAL INTERMISSION, LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU WANT (I WROTE THIS CHAPTER WITH IT IN MIND)]

The waiting commences, only now it somehow feels more intense. The sun is setting, and you really want to be one of those cute girls that fill their camera roll with pictures of the sunset and the roseate sky, but your hands are trembling and holding up your phone feels like too much of a hassle. You’d rather just sit there, alone in the apartment, in the pin-drop silence, extremely uncomfy and tense, as if waiting for the end of the world.

A notification sounds off and your life flashes before your eyes. Hastily, you check it, a sticky mixture of delight and something else, something unpleasant constricting, making your stomach churn. He’s here. Holy shit, it’s happening. You order your anime plushies to stop fucking panicking, they’re like, totally embarrassing you at the moment! You wonder if they have their own little group chat, but instead of Totally Spies it’s called Total Embarrassment. Yikes, okay, that was harsh. After a good scolding, and a heartfelt apology for getting so heated, you smooth down the non-existent wrinkles on your modest outfit, and quickly waddle over to the electronic apartment thingie something something... you unlock the main door, okay!? This is for some reason feeling very not cash money, so you break out in a little dance number.

The doorbell does not sing that shrill, unpleasant tune; rather, there’s a soft knock on the apartment’s door, and you pause your shuffling, your renegade, and perk up at the imposing future hidden behind a slab of wood. Your heart beats a melody all on it’s own, and it’s loud, uncoordinated, like a musician that’s still familiarizing themselves with their instrument. And there’s that knock again, as uncertain as you’re feeling, and your clammy fingers latch onto the lock and turn it and now there is no more hiding - such a possibility is no longer an option; no more sporadic dances or sitting in disheartening silence and letting your thoughts weight you down.

You’re not quite sure what you were thinking about before you saw him in the threshold, head tilted slightly, fluffy dark hair obscuring the bags under his eyes, hunched, one ringed hand clutching onto the strap of his duffel bag, the other frozen mid-air, ready to knock one more time lest you didn’t hear him the first two. No, truly, you can’t, for the life of you, remember what all the fuss was about.

“...Oh.” It’s a soft sound, so quiet, but not surprised, rather...relieved. Faint shimmers of a smile reach you, hidden behind a black face mask - the panini chic! You must stan a respectful king - but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you question it’s sincerity. He fails to return your gaze, rather choosing to stare somewhere over your shoulder. His eyes seem unfocused. Apprehensive. A wild thought occurs to you that he expected you to trick him somehow, and wild thoughts invade the land of your mind often, but never in such a way. You clutch the handle just a bit tighter.

His hand retreats to his side, up to his mask and you think he’s about to unhook it but he stills, and there’s panic there, as if he had been moving unconsciously, as if he hadn’t realized what he’s doing. He plays it off by idly scratching his cheek, muttering an equally quiet, “Hi.” to fill the silence.

Finally, your WikiHow knowledge can come in handy, along with your common sense, “Hey, pretty boy.” You mutter, pulling away from the door, “Make yourself at home!” You slide to the kitchen, your socks acting not unlike ice-skates cutting through the Arctic frost covered ground. You hope that with you occupied and not watching him as closely he’ll feel slightly more at ease.

You’d like to hug him. Kiss him, definitely. But if he’s so uncomfortable that he can’t bring himself to shed his mask in your presence, then there’s really nothing you can do.

You hear the door shut and lock behind you as you pull out two glasses from the cupboard, humming a song you can’t quite recall the name of. You ask him if he’d like something to drink - it was a short flight, yet a flight still, and planes always make you thirsty, and there you go talking his ear off. You end abruptly, but smoothly, like a true diplomat; if he notices, you have no way of knowing - he doesn’t provide even a hint. He’s hard to read, and literature was never your best subject. But you’re trying.

He sets his duffel bag down on a nearby chair, “I, uhhh,” His voice is raspy and low, another indication of a pathetic lack of sleep, “I...got you something, uhh, I dunno-dunno if I should...give it now, or?” He sends you a questioning glance, but it doesn’t linger. Your offer of drinks is momentarily forgotten, though you hardly mind.

You grin, “Sure! I love gifts, gimmie gimmie.” You make grabby hands, and he snorts, and it would’ve sounded endearing if he didn’t sound so fucking tired. He unzips the bag, and you pad your way to him, mindful of personal space (something you, in most social situations, chose to pretend does not exist). You note his hands quivering lightly, just like yours had in the agonizing wait, but he hides it well. You wish you could hold them. You’re afraid to try.

He pulls out a black hoodie and you recognize the custom art on it instantly - it’s his merch. He presents it in awkward flourish, murmuring a “Tadaaaa” under his breath; your heart skips a pleasant beat, and you have to bite down on your lower lip lest you smile appears too big. The fabric is soft under your fingers, and you accept his gift with a dramatic bow, and he turns his head away with another little laugh. You’re chipping away at the ice around him; it’s a slow process, but it’s worth the effort.

Truly, your own hoodie is shabby in comparison - icky, how could you have ever worn such a thing in the first place?! You’ll have to do extensive research in fashion magazines and Printerest so such a slip-up may never happen again. You discard it hastily and put his on instead; it smells like washing detergent with hints of cologne, one you instantly pin point belonging to him, “It’s, uhhh, it’s mine? I hope you, uhh, I didn’t have any spare ones, so-I hope you don’t...mind.”

He’s finally looking at you, but he’s still tense, still hesitant, and you shake your head softly, “No,” You admit, “I like it even more now.” You pull on the hood, toy with the strings and yank them quickly; your face is concealed, save for your nose, “Comfy.” Your commentary is unmatched, best of it’s kind - eloquent and effortless, much like yourself.

Another small laugh reaches your ears, and it sounds a bit livelier than the others had been. Success!

“Stop that.” He says gently, and you see moving shadows; his hands loosen the strings and your face is revealed to him once again. He’s close now, and he doesn’t move away; his hands come to rest on your shoulders, warm even through layers of fabric, “I came all this way to see you, don’t hide your face from me.”

Your eyes narrow playfully, your finger rapidly tapping away on his clothed cheek, “What’s all this then? Hm? Hm?” Instead of swatting your hand away, which you figured he’d do, he complies and finally tugs that fucking mask off. Your breath catches in the back of your throat and you halt your ministrations - truly, seeing him smiling on screen is nothing compared to him smiling in person. You can’t quite contain yourself any longer - your excitement might burst out in another dance number otherwise - as you throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him flush against you. He’s quick to return the embrace. Maybe it was all the encouragement he needed.

“Wow,” He mumbles, only slightly offended, “so I finally show my face to you, in person, and you just-...you just look away?”

“I’m hugging you, dumbass.”

“...Touche.”

Things fall into place after that, like a dozen puzzle pieces fitting together. He won’t let you go - he doesn’t want to. You put on some music, something easy and indie and that doesn’t require too much effort to listen to, as the two of you contemplate what to eat. Cooking by yourselves was dismissed due to the unstable relationship between yourself and cooking utensils. The stove and you had had a falling out recently, but this feud had started long ago, back in pre-school, with only short intervals of friendship. He listened to your extensive explanation absolutely enraptured and only moderately confused.

So you settled on ordering pizza from Domino’s. You have no trouble calling or receiving phone calls, because you have no trouble doing anything, and he admitted that he only really calls you because he gets too anxious to do more, so you’re tasked with ordering the food. You accept this mission with pride.

You stand tall, gazing out the window into the wild California domain: massive buildings and towering eucalyptus trees, bleeding skyline and the sun slowly getting swallowed up by the ocean. Corpse looms behind you, with his arms snaked around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, looking at you through the corner of his eye. You wait patiently for the underpaid, overworked staff member to pick up, and once they do, you have the audacity to grin brightly and chirp, “Hi! I want pizza.”

Conversations flow smoothly, and you make hot chocolate - because you are hot and you crave chocolate - and he insists he wants one too, because you want one, and you don’t hesitate to overflow his cup with whipped cream and an ungodly amount of miniature marshmallows. A premature heart attack, just for him. Whoever said romance is dead has clearly never met you. When the doorbell chimes, you’re astounded that an hour flew by so quickly.

After the delicious meal, the movie night must commence. So what if you watched 10 Things I hate About You yesterday, you insist that you have already forgotten the plot. You lead him to your room and he tries not to stare, but can’t help himself. Pretty boy in a pretty girl’s room. His eyes linger on the massive posters of Chrollo on your walls, and you sense his displeasure rolling off of him in waves.

“What?” You huff, fluffing the pillows, “You don’t like my husband?”

He jabs his finger into his chest, into the spot of his heart, “I’m your husband.”

“Side hoe, then-”

“-No.”

You didn’t lie when you said you love to cuddle, or that you’re clingy. It’s a good thing he’s just as clingy as you are, because when he lays down and you latch onto his side. He doesn’t complain, rather wraps his arm around pulls you close. His thumb draws lazy circles on your side; with your head resting on his chest, you feel each rhythmical rise and drop.

The opening credits play on the projector, the room dark enough for your pile of plushies to look like a whole fucking human just standing in the corner. A ghost! Sucks for it, you’re not scared. You feel safe. Protected. So comfortable in Corpse’s hold that you’re honestly wondering how did you manage to be so long without him. To think all of this started when Sykkuno followed you on Twitter. What a lucky accident.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice cuts through the bopping 90s soundtrack and Julia Stiles’ voice. He hums. You take it as a yes. Tilting your head upwards, you find his eyes again, a thorn of displeasure picking you as you note that that apprehension you had seen previously is still very much there, “...You really wouldn’t date me if I was a worm?”

His chest rumbles with a laugh and his lips split into a grin, “I would.” He presses your side for emphasis, “I really would.” He repeats, reassuringly. You, however, are not convinced.

“But I’d be a worm.”

“I know. We’d... roll around in the dirt together, or something.”

“But you’d be human.”

He frowns softly, “Why couldn’t I be a worm, too?”

“Those are the rules.”

“What kind of shitty fucking rules are those?”

“I dunno, it’s like the Thanos snap or something. I just turn into a worm. I’m the only one.”

“That’s fine.” He smiles, “I’d take you out on a fishing date or something.”

Shocked, offended, and heartbroken, you hit his chest and pointedly turn away with a pout, which he finds very funny for some reason, but you fail to see the humor anywhere except the movie. Despite the fact that he’d sacrifice you for a fish, you smile shyly and close your eyes. He did say you would take a nap together, and if he really thought you’d stay awake for movie night, well, then he’s just an idiot. You had decided you would fall asleep as soon as he was next to you. It’s a miracle you managed to stay awake for so long.

“...Sleeping already?” You don’t appreciate his teasing tone.

“’m not sleeping...” You murmur, “’m resting my eyes.”

“Sure.”

You’re not quite certain (of anything, really) how much time drifts by, but you’re nearly lost in unconsciousness, in the warm, nice feeling that comes along with him like a cloud. Perhaps he thinks you’re asleep, he has to, else he wouldn’t say anything at all, “You’re stuck with me now, you know.” It’s such a soft admission, riddled with the same notes of anxiety that always prevail in his speech; with the same hopeful sincerity he had been gazing at you the whole evening.

Moving your lips is such a hassle, but you manage, “’m...stuck...” You mumble, “’m...stuck...what are you doing step-”

“No!” He laughs, and your lips quirk into a lazy smile, “No, no, no. Just no. Do you talk in your sleep?” You fake snore at that, loudly, “You’re like a little dragon.”

“...Fuck you.”

“Fine, a kitten, then.” That’s better. You feel something chapped, but soft, press onto your forehead, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

God, you’re so fucking happy. Does he know how happy you are? How happy he makes you? But you’re too tired for screaming and flailing around, too tired to even crack an eye open. You want him to know all the same, “...like you.” You whisper, but you don’t know if he hears you over the movie, “...I like you.”

His reply is instant, breathless, “I like you too.”

Good, you want to say, and maybe you do - can’t tell anymore. Sleep takes you too quickly.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fanfic #corpse x y/n #corpse social media au #corpse husband social media au #social media au #myso #make you say oh #reader #xreader #imagine #imagines #fluff #wtf i have never been this soft no one hmu

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angelictrl · 3 years

Note

hihi wifey, im feeling kinda anxious/sad in general so can i request just have satan + asmo being jealous tysm ❤️❤️❤️

JEALOUS SATAN & ASMO.

a/n ;; sorry that this is late and i apologize if this is sucky ! head’s been empty but i’m trying desperately not to get writer’s block </3 also, asmodeus’ part got longer than expected, oops.

cw ;; threats, insecurities, hurt-ish/comfort. satan is a moody baby and asmodeus appreciation/supremacy. not proof-read. that’s all, really, besides some cranky demons.

# satan. ``

@ others making him jealous . . .

whoever has the audacity to go and make the literal avatar of wrath jealous definitely has a death wish. whether or not some random demon who was getting too touchy, flirting, or taking up your time and attention with or without knowing that you were his partner, he’d still get pissed.

however, he has two reactions: either, 1. he storms up to them and puts them in their place/threatens them before pulling you away if he hasn’t destroyed something, or 2. he’s just on the verge ... sitting there, peeking over a book with a menacing aura as he glares at everyone like a cat, ready to claw someone in the corner.

satan trusts you, so if he goes with the latter, he’ll be silently raging internally while he waits for you to tell them you have a boyfriend and decline their advances. if they continue to push you when you already told them no, that’s when blondie here will snap and go with reaction 1.

“oi, just what do you think you’re doing ? my s/o already said no, you pitiful creature(s). quit gawking at them before i forcefully make you. understand?”

@ brothers making him jealous . . .

on the other hand, if it’s one of his brothers hogging all of your attention, he gets more petty than anything, really. the threats are still there, though. and especially if it’s lucifer who’s stealing you away ... yikes, everyone in HoL will know his change in mood as he’s been on lucifer’s ass more than usual with his pranks and curses.

satan will be visibly annoyed and give each and every one of you the cold shoulder by locking himself in his room more often than not (leviathan the hermit, who ?) to get lost in his books until he gets reassurance and affection from you.

he’s not really insecure, but more lost and confused than anything. he’s the brother that’s pretty much the odd one out, though none of them treat him differently, and he’s always had an issue with feeling enmeshed to lucifer.

even when he knows he’s his own person, he was created from a quite literal ungodly amount of rage and wrath. it’s all he’s known before you came along into his life. so surely ... you’ll excuse him for looking like a kicked puppy as he tries to sort through these new feelings, right ?

right, because you’re already there holding his hand in reassurance. that same rough hand that’s tortured and destroyed so many things is being held by someone so fragile ... someone who’s looked death in the eye ... someone who makes him feel like he’s something more than just a monster.

you truly were just like that main character in one of his books ... you were the beauty to his beast. or, properly phrased, you brought out the beauty in his beast.

# asmodeus. ``

@ others making him jealous . . .

‘oh, honey, you look like rumpelstiltskin, yet you still think you can compare to me ?‘ pretty much his thought process right there.

no but really, asmo may be sweet and the most gentle out of the brothers right next to beel, but he’s still an avatar of a sin. there’s no doubt that the lot of demons there in the devildom would be intimidated by asmodeus in the competition for your love - and honestly, who could blame them ?

most of them who don’t live under a rock would already know that you two are in a relationship with how much asmo posts about you, so it would take some serious devotion from any demon who dares to have the gall to compete with him - whether or not they view you as a fling - and asmodeus will not hesitate to get petty.

you’re going to need to reassure your demon boyfriend here that you only have eyes for him before he exposes the second half of deep, dark secrets this other person/people have on the internet ^^;;

@ brothers making him jealous . . .

he’d still think of himself as somewhat superior and cuter, but he’d tone things down. he wouldn’t ruin his brothers’ lives like how he would be willing to do so with strangers.

regardless of whether or not it’s a stranger, friend, or brother of his, in the end, asmo will be extra touchy and will spoil you with more spa dates and trips to majolish than usual. this is mostly because he doesn’t want you to notice his recent gloomy change in mood as he’s stuck on the thought of ‘what if’ had you really left him for someone else.

those intrusive thoughts just keep on swarming through his head ... so what better than to try to get back into routine with daily life ? he just hopes you haven’t taken notice, but unfortunately for him, you have.

you’ve noticed his slightly disheveled hair and outfit along with the mountain of clothes and makeup piling up in his room and his vanity. plus, let’s not begin to even mention the excessive amount of concealer he’s been wasting to try and hide his eyebags.

things finally begin to progress in the communication area when you sit him down and confront him one night while everyone’s asleep. though, getting him to work through the root of his charismatic-party-animal mask proves to be quite difficult.

“dear, it’s adorable how you care so much for me, but you’re really going to get wrinkles this way. here, come a little closer and let me do your skincare first, then we’ll chat ... c’mon ~ i said closer, hon. i don’t bite ... well, unless you want me to ~”

“asmo, baby ...” you cut him off for the nth time that night as he tried to change the subject again, watching the demon with champagne-colored hair who flung himself at you again glance at you with his cheeky smile faltering for a split second before he quickly regained his composure, but it wasn’t anything that you couldn’t catch onto. “please, stop changing the topic. i’ve come to talk to you ... the real you. no spontaneous activities, no makeovers, just you.”

asmodeus’ face paled ever so slightly and his eye twitched as he thought of playing dumb, but you were just so sincere. he couldn’t even manage out a ‘whatever do you mean ?’ before laughing in disbelief while turning the other way. “this - this is the real ..... the real ... me ... i have no clue what you’re talking about ...” he choked out while tears glossed over his eyes, his back turned to you.

in his theatrics and dramatic antics, he’d fake cry occasionally, but to truly feel such strong, negative emotions especially towards himself as he cried ... it was ugly. he was ugly. and now, surely if you saw his face, you’d leave him too. for he was such a shallow, ugly, good-for-nothing demon. no matter how much he polished his attitude to be sassy and charismatic or tried on the latest trending outfits and makeup, there was always this feeling of emptiness left in him. not like the black hole everyone called beel’s stomach, but this void left in his heart, this hurting in his chest that wouldn’t go away when the afterglow of each party and hookup arrived, this longing for warmth - not even just physically - for someone to hold him like he did for his brothers on their lonesome nights when they remembered the past.

the avatar of lust was knocked out of his thoughts by a pained noise, confusion written on his face before he realized it was himself. he was sobbing into your chest as you held him close, your fingers delicately carding through his tousled hair. ugly. he thought each sorrowful noise that came out of him was ugly, and he couldn’t help but chant sorry’s your way through tears. he didn’t know when you had came closer once more to hold him, but he buried his face into your shirt and finally let loose the flood of his emotions clinging desperately to you.

“p-please ... don’t go away too, s/o. you’re the true jewel of the devildom, my dear. you’re so much more beautiful than i’ll ever be ... and i ... i don’t mean that just by l-looks ... please ... i love you so much ...”

obey me masterlist.

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laurelleghuleh · 3 years

Text

OCAF | Ch. 9 “Wounds”

Warnings: read the masterlist first and check Alec’s chart

Songs: “The One That Got Away (Acoustic Version)” by Katy Perry, “Hurt” by Christina Aguilera, “Carousel” by Melanie Martinez.

DAPHNE’S POV

˜ FLASHBACK ˜

The first time Alec arrived at the brothel he was just 15. His father wanted to introduce him to his job, to secure his position and future. Very thoughtful of his, if it wasn’t for the fact that he had just brought a little lamb in the lion’s cage.

Alec was already tall for his age, but he kept growing in height until he was almost 6’0. And yet his body stayed pretty slender and delicate. It quite matched his sweet features and manners. Alec was the purest soul I’ve ever met in my entire, albeit short, life.

At first, he just had to take care of the few horses and carriages the Master possessed. Animals didn’t quite like the Underground’s environment, so Alec and his father were the only ones allowed to go on the surface to go for a ride or escort the Master somewhere.

He wasn’t authorized to talk to us or even enter the brothel: us girls were off-limits. But, eventually, we found our ways to meet him. There weren’t many nice and young people around the building. And as good-looking as him.

Nina and I weren’t on the same page about Alec. She used to bully him all the time, calling him whiner or pussy. On the contrary, I’ve always known he was one of a kind. And to be honest, he was so nice that even the Master started to like him and became more indulgent with him. That’s when he softened and I formally met Alec for the first time.

I remember that one of my first training with my Master’s goons didn’t end well for me. I had bruises and wounds all over my body and face, and I couldn’t even stand up properly. I don’t know what I was expecting, they had never been the kindest.

However, long story short, that day I was a literal mess and as I was trying to pull myself together, I crawled to the nearest place, looking for some water and rest: the stable.

As soon as Alec saw me, he ran towards me and started stuttering anxious and incoherent phrases. He took care of me and since that day, after each training he would have waited for me to spend some time together, talking, playing with the horses, walking around the building, or just enjoying our company, in silence.

We tried our best to not get caught as we treasured those moments together just for ourselves.

“So?? Did that scrawny ass boy have the courage to kiss you this time?” said Nina, when I entered the kitchen. “What the fuck are you talking about, Nina??” I promptly replied. “Daphne! Pretty please, stop swearing…” complained Abigail “Well, did he proposed???” then added full of curiosity. “WHAAAAT?? EXCUSE ME???” I shouted.

“Oh, c’mon Daphne. it’s so obvious that even Sae-jin got it!” screamed Ruth walking in the room. “Don’t pull me in. I don’t give a damn about what she does with that poor boy…” calmly stated Sae-jin, leaving the room and dragging away with her Eve, who as usual was not understanding much.

Sae-jin was always so avoidant. But how could I blame her? The girls could get pretty annoying sometimes. Well, always.

“Ok, now I’m losing my patience…” I sighed “You’re totally misunderstanding the situation. Alec and I are just good friends” I declared. “I couldn’t care less how you call each other. Friends, brothers, potatoes…” started again Nina, now reaching for Ruth, who instantly intercepted her gesture and sprinted to sit on her lap.

Nina was always too casual when it came to those things. Whenever we were alone - which happened very frequently given that we were almost inseparable - she used to tell me: “They told us what to do with our bodies, but this…” she pointed at my head “… and this…” and then at my heart “are only ours, or of those to whom we choose to dedicate them”.

I knew she was talking from experience. Among us, she was the best at faking the whole thing, the clients loved her, but she was nobody’s property but Ruth’s. And vice versa. “Remember doll, loving and fucking are two different things… Well, if you find someone who can give you both, then… Lucky you” and then laughed out loud.

I never fully grasped what she meant. At that time, I knew so little about relationships, love, desires, but I wanted to know more, to learn more about myself, my true self, the one I couldn’t talk to anyone about.

Eventually, I figured it out in the oddest way: the thing I despised more than anything else, sex, taught me the most about the others, myself, and my relationship with others. So little could be hidden to two naked bodies, two stripped minds. But that’s a lesson I learned only once out of th brothel, years later.

But still, at that time, love was only a mysterious word in Martha’s stupid fairytales, in Chadia’s past affairs she used to tell us about, and in Nina’s mischievous hints.

“Girls… Geez, we didn’t kiss! And never we will!” I stated, getting nervous. “Ok, one more week. I bet tonight tips” whispered Ruth in Nina’s ear. “Deal” said Nina. Abigail chuckled watching my frustrated reaction. Those were our little innocent moments. Just the calm before the storm.

Eventually, that day arrived. I knew Alec had a crush on me, but I always avoided thinking about it too much, until that day. I was hanging the laundry on the rooftop of the building when Alec came to me mumbling some nonsense. “Alec, are you high or something?” I teased him. He frowned making a hilarious puppy face. He always looked so innocent even when he was angry.

“N-no. No, please Daphne, let me finish” he said. “Boy, you didn’t even start” I laughed. He couldn’t stand my attitude anymore, so he rushed towards me, making his way through the bright blankets swaying in the air. And there, hidden by their motion, he stole me a kiss.

He immediately took a step back. One kiss gave him enough courage to say: “I like you, Daphne. I like you a lot. I liked you since the first day I saw you through the window. And I think I’ll like you forever…” he said all in one breath.

I blinked, unable to say a single word. I knew I liked him too, but I could already tell the difference between our feelings. And I believe he knew that too. Since I couldn’t stand lying to him, I didn’t say anything and I just hugged him tightly.

I knew that wasn’t love, but Alec always made me feel safe and understood, so I swallowed my indecision and gave it a try. I was so young and naive.

I used to sneak out at night, climbing down my window, to meet him at the stable. I was always the one who initiated every make-out session and Alec seemed to appreciate it, but he was already content with my presence, he simply enjoyed my company. Instead, I craved to be touched by him, by someone who cared about me, for once. I craved it like I was starving and avidly trying to figure out something, someone. Probably myself.

We successfully kept it on the down-low for more than a year. When I turned 20, he surprised me with a gift: a knife, with a capital D he personally engraved on the hilt. I couldn’t stop thanking him, when, at some point, he came up with “I know you can handle yourself, but I want you to be safe. Whatever happens”.

“Alec, you’re such a party pooper. Don’t be so dramatic, I’ll be fiiiine. But still thank you so-“. “No, Daphne, you don’t get it” he interrupted me “Trust me. Things are taking a turn for the worst. The Master is getting himself into… into some deep shit”. “Alec Reed. Did you just say the s-word??” I sarcastically added. But his face was so serious I almost got scared.

“Things are about to go down, Daphne. Please, carry this thing with you… Oh, I almost forgot about it. Here, I also made this” he said handing me a short leather belt with a little pocket designed for the knife. “You can put it around your…” he coughed “…thigh”.

His little speech literally gave me chills and I desperately wanted to change the subject, so I seized the moment. “Oh, well… since you thought about this belt on my thigh…” I seductively said, raising my skirt up, exposing my leg “…Why don’t you show me how you imagined it” I suggested.

He almost choked at my words, causing me to laugh out loud. I hugged him once again, thinking that the heavens had sent him to me. I kissed him on the cheek, thanking him again, and then I rushed back inside since our little time was quickly coming to an end. But his words stuck inside my head for days, weeks, months, until his prophecy took place.

My last year at the brothel was nothing but a sequence of tragedies. One day Eve found Chadia’s lifeless body and after a couple of months, Sae-jin and her lover, Colton, were brutally murdered by the Master, who found out about their complot against him. Tabitha was given as wife (well, sold) to an unknown client and at some point, Abigail started to act quite strangely around me, almost avoiding me.

That chain of catastrophes ended with my worst nightmare: Alec’s execution.

One night, after climbing back to my window, I found two guards waiting for me in my room. One of them quickly grabbed a fist of my hair, shoved me down to the stairs and then dragged me to the back of the brothel. And there I saw them.

Alec was on his knees and around him stood other guards in a semi-circle. I tried to call Alec but he didn’t seem to even notice me. His eyes were fixed on the ground, his hands behind his back and his body shaking. “Alec, what’s going on…” I murmured again.

“Oh babygirl, you know what is going on…” my Master’s voice echoed behind me. His filthy hands caressed my skin, from my collarbone to my chin, as he spoke again “Boy, look up, look up at me when I'm talking”. Alec immediately obeyed. His face was swollen and his eyes glassy and red. “Alec…” I whispered in disbelief, shaking my head.

“See? You see this?” The Master said brushing his index along my cheek and then fiercely grabbing my jaw “This is my property… Everything here is my property… I trusted you boy. But I think you’ve bitten off more than you can chew”. “No… No... Please no” I whispered as tears streamed down my face. He was right: I knew what was going on.

The Master nodded and all his little dogs moved quickly, obeying him. A second just before that, Alec’s lips moved to tell me something that I wasn’t quick enough to catch. Soon the Master’s goons were over him, ruthlessly punching and kicking him.

I started to scream and as soon as I tried to move forwards the Master fiercely grabbed me, blocking my arms behind my back and holding my jaw in Alec’s direction so tightly he was bruising my skin. I fidgeted in his grip and while I was sobbing uncontrollably, he whispered in my ear “Oh no no no, babygirl. I want you to watch this veeeery carefully… I want you to learn a little lesson today… Nobody touches what’s mine”.

I couldn’t stay still in the Master’s hands. I couldn’t stand that view anymore but he was so massive and definitely stronger than me at that time. On the corner of my eye, on the left, I saw a couple of other guards holding a man: Alec’s father. His face was stoic, his body firm. He didn’t even notice me: he was "watching carefully, trying to learn a little lesson that day".

When they were done with Alec, the Master let go of me and my body fell heavily on the ground, exhausted. Alec was left on the ground, lifeless and alone. His dad immediately walked away as I crawled to Alec's body, calling his name softly “Alec… Alec… “. My hands stood in front of his black and blue face. I didn’t dare to even touch him like I was in front of something unreal.

Words seemed to get trapped in my throat and my mind completely blanked out. I don’t know how much time passed, but at a certain point, a sweet voice whispered in my ear “Let’s go, doll…”. I immediately sensed Nina’s strong hands lifting me and carrying me up to my room. I desperately clung to her body as we made our way back into the building.

That night I did learn a lesson: The Master would have paid for all of that. But revenge is a dish best served cold and the night I escaped from the brothel I left my sister Abigail Alec’s knife: just one knife wouldn’t have been enough for my plan.

Trying to not think about Levi’s lips on me was impossible. Even if I promised to myself to cut him out of my mind, that night I allowed myself to repeat that scene, that feeling several times again in my head until I went numb and fell asleep. I felt helpless against those thoughts and I let them get the better of me. Just for tonight…I thought.

Another day came and I told myself that that fantasy wouldn’t have left my room, it would have died there within its walls. As soon as I see him again, let’s make things clear before anything else happens. Confident, I went straight down to the cafeteria, but Levi was nowhere to be found.

On the right corner of my eye, I sensed Mikasa, shily waving at me, and Sasha energetically gesturing me to join them for breakfast. “Where is Eren?” I said at some point. Well, where is Levi? I actually thought. “I was thinking the same thing…” mumbled Mikasa. “Maybe he’s just with the captain and his squad, or with Hange” suggested Armin, trying to comfort her.

I decided to use that spare time to practice my future speech in my mind. "Levi, let’s stop making out in the kitchen. Ok, thank you for your kind attention, bye". No, this is absolutely ridiculous. I sound like I want to make out somewhere else. Oh, breakfast is over. And as I got up from the table I kept thinking of some other smarter alternatives.

"Levi, don’t you ever kiss me again". Are you sure you want to say that, Daphne? asked that annoying voice in my head. Sure. Absolutely. "Levi, don’t come closer to me ever again ". Okay, maybe that’s a bit much. "Levi, stop...". And as my feet unconsciously followed the others into the hallway and my mind wandered looking for other excuses, I sensed a presence behind me and a hand grabbing my left arm.

Then, suddenly, a warm breath tickled my ear, saying: "When you’re done with the lesson, meet me at the stable. I’ll wait for you". Levi. I instantly froze, unable to take another step forward, and my lips slightly parted, as if I had just seen a ghost.

As soon as I felt that presence moving away from me, a cold shiver ran down my back. He never failed to make me feel so fucking helpless. I turned around and saw the Captain join the rest of the squad, going in the opposite direction. Among the soldiers, I saw Eren, who waved at me and thankfully woke me from that momentary paralysis.

"When you’re done with the lesson, meet me at the stable. I’ll wait for you. When you’re done with the lesson, meet me at the stable. I’ll wait for you. Meet me at the stable. I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait for you". Stop, stop, stop. STOP. This must end now.

When we arrived in the classroom, we were greeted by a couple of team leaders standing in front of a huge green board. A few steps from them Commander Erwin Smith was waiting for us all to take the seat. As soon as he got our full attention, he started talking "Cadets, welcome. Before class starts, I wanted to carve out a moment to talk to you".

I looked around quickly. Everyone seemed completely fascinated by Erwin’s words. The only thing I could think of, looking at him, was a huge fucking obstacle, the wall standing between me and my true freedom. "The next expedition will start in less than 48 hours. I hope no one wants to pull back at this point" he lightly laughed, looking at the other team leaders.

"I hope not... especially since I hope that each of you will understand your invaluable value. Each of you is a key piece in this plan. Each of you is a key piece in the victory of mankind over titans. Your life and death will have meaning far beyond human understanding. Sacrifice your hearts for mankind".

I only needed those 10 minutes in his presence to truly understand Commander Smith. It wasn’t just his always right choice of words, his statuesque physique, or the charm of his reputation. No. It was his aura. It reminded me of the same feeling Levi gave me. They were men of power, because they emanated that power, in their gestures, in their gaze, even in the tone of their voice.

At that point, if Commander Smith had ordered me to make him soup, I would have made it on the spot. "Well, my time is up. See you at the departure, soldiers," he said, looking at us with severity and pride, and then, after our salute, he left.

Shortly after, the squad leader Ness took the floor. He was in charge of making a general explanation for the expedition. He clarified the main goals, the equipment and the distinction of the different colors of the signal flares, and other basic rules. In the afternoon, the various units would have more information from their captains on their position and strategy.

I did my best to concentrate but Levi’s words still echoed in my head. "I’ll wait for you". Commander Erwin had not hesitated to mention our possible - and statistical - death during the mission. If I don’t want to die, I’d better listen more carefully.

Wrong move. Erwin’s speech had a whole other heaviness than Levi’s vague hint. It was life or death, and at that point, I no longer knew which one of those damn two was driving me nuts.

After the lesson, I immediately went to the stable. Look at you, what are you? His puppy? So obedient... Look at you wagging your tail... teased me a voice in my head. I wanted to confront Levi about the other night, now more than ever.

Once at the threshold of the stable I couldn't see anyone and so, I entered the shed starting the monologue that I had prepared before.

"Look, Levi, I don’t have much time to waste... Levi. Where the hell are you... Levi? Are you here?" I have a bad feeling about this. While I was still calling his name, at a certain point someone called mine: "Daphne?". That was definitely not Levi.

Eren jumped out of a corner and I instantly froze. Then he added, "Here you are! We were waiting for you," and so I turned around. Behind my back, the whole - I repeat, the whole - Levi Squad was preparing their horses. Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Among them, Levi was staring at me with his hands on the hips and the smug look of someone who seemed to have just won a bet or something. As if that wasn’t enough, in addition to that temporary shame, seeing Levi after that kiss was just torture. I could still feel his hands and the icy peppermint aftertaste of his breath all over me.

Once I found a crumb of courage, I managed to simulate a shy salute.

"So how did it go with Commander Smith? Did he scare you enough?" Petra asked me, laughing. "Yep" I replied. "C’mon, get a move on," Levi said harshly. I looked at him, quite confused. “I need to talk to you all about the expedition," he added.

"Oh, wait, Captain! Before we go..." Petra started talking again "Here, Daphne, from now on this is yours!". She handed me a green cape with the wings of freedom on the back. Once I wore it, Petra said: "Wow, green is definitely your color, Daphne!"

I looked around and immediately saw Gunther saying, almost blushing, "Indeed. It looks really good on you, Daphne". Then again, I felt that familiar feeling of being watched intensely. I slightly turned my head to intercept Levi’s reaction, who was checking me from head to toe. I don’t know what I’d give to know what’s on his mind sometimes...

"Yeah, sure" Oruo muttered, rolling his eyes and jumping on the saddle. Eld gave me a nod and followed his comrade. The others joined them and then I heard a trot getting closer behind me. Levi was walking towards me with two horses beside him.

Handing me the reins of my horse, he silently approached me, with his usual composed expression. So, I started to say, "Look, Levi, first...", but he immediately interrupted me: "What is it? Were you expecting a romantic rendezvous with me in the stable?"

"No" I quickly answered in a frustrated tone "First of all, I’m sorry for calling you by your name… I didn’t know-“. “I couldn’t care less” he interrupted me and then walked away. “HEY! I’M NOT DONE TALKING!” I shouted back at him. He immediately turned around, looking at me wide-eyed, quite surprised by my tone.

“Secondly…” I coughed “I wanted to talk to you about what happened last night in the kitc-". But Levi didn’t, again, let me finish the sentence, and getting practically under my nose he said: "I think you were pretty clear about it. We shouldn’t have kissed, right?".

I didn’t know what to say and Levi knew perfectly well how uncomfortable he was making me. He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows as if he wanted a quick answer from me. (Poorly) faking a bold attitude, I gave him a wide smile as if to confirm his insinuation and so I began to exit the stable.

But just when I was a few inches away from him, Levi started talking again: "I’m sorry Daphne, I really can’t do this". I couldn’t tell by his tone if he was sad, serious, or almost angry when he said those words. "Me neither, Captain," I told him, showing off the most impassive face I could do, and so I went out, without looking back.

When we reached the others, we set off, riding for a good half an hour. Once we reached an isolated place, we got off the horse and Eld began to explain to us the strategy for the expedition. Our position would have been in the rear. Our only goal was to protect Eren.

"I have reason to believe that Commander Smith is hiding something from us... like a second target of the mission," Eld suggested. "Are you doubting the Commander?" Oruo tried to insinuate. "I’m just saying, there’s a good chance this mission is just a test. A simulation to see if it is possible to reach the district of Shiganshina" Eld declared, instantly interrupting him.

While the rest of the squad seemed to discuss it without much concern, Eren and I were visibly confused. So, I turned around to look for Levi. I needed some reassurance. Meanwhile, he had been on the sidelines, caressing his horse’s mane, enjoying the light breeze of that day. He caught me staring, turned his face and with his lips mimed a "What are you looking at?". This man...

Soon after, Eld specified to Eren and me that those instructions were absolutely confidential and no one outside of our squad should know Eren’s position. We both responded with a firm nod.

Back at the base, Levi coldly dismissed us saying: "Well, that’s all for today. If you want to continue your training, the courtyard is at your disposal. Tomorrow, enjoy your day off. We will meet the day after tomorrow, at dawn, before departure. You can go now"

I looked at Levi one last time. So that’s it? That’s really it? I thought.

That night and the whole next day I did my best to escape Levi. At meals, I tried to avoid his table, and I dedicated the day before the expedition trying to make be more friendly with the other soldiers. "Be more sociable," you said to me that night, right? So, I’ll do my best, Captain.

After dinner, I was invited by Eren to spend some time together with the other before the departure. The concern for the next expedition was getting heavier and the mere thought of having to socialize more hourse did nothing but make the situation worse. So, I went to the kitchen to get a cup of chamomile tea. I needed to calm down.

LEVI’S POV

I started to believe that castle was haunted for real. That damn kitchen reminded me of those few but indelible memories with Daphne... and yet after a restless wandering in the halls I found myself there again, on the doorstep looking at her as she stared out of the window.

I watched her take the pot from the stove and pour it somewhere, maybe into the cup she supposedly had prepared before. I started to make my way into the room, trying to come up with something reasonable to say to her.

As soon as I got close to her, Daphne turned around. "Captain" she saluted me coldly and then left without adding anything else, holding in her hands the fuming cup. Say something, you idiot, I ordered myself. But nothing came out.

As soon as I realized I was alone in the room a growl of frustration slipped out of my mouth. Damn it. But maybe it was a sign for both of us to forget about what happened between us. Nothing. It meant nothing.

Then, looking up from the ground, I noticed something strange on the cabinet: another fuming cup, placed on a tiny tissue, on which my name had been written.

#LEVI ACKERMAN #levi x oc #levi x reader #Levi fanfiction #Captain Levi #snk levi #snk fanfiction #snk fanfic #snk #levi aot #aot fanfiction #AoT #read on ao3 #read on wattpad #levixreader #levi #ytlcaf

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itach-i · 4 years

Text

“We’ll See” (Manorian) (Chapter 2)

_____________________________________________________________

After the war at Orynth, Manon Blackbeak and Dorian Havilliard decided that rebuilding their kingdoms would be the best course of action, leaving whatever they felt for each other up in the air. What happens when they finally make time to see each other again? (Link on ff.net)

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Spring - Chapter 1 ________________________________________________________________

Broken Glass - Chapter 2

Dorian

Dorian cringed as he realized that his constant pacing might very well cause a hole in the guest room at the Westfall Fortress. Calming himself, Dorian looked out and was disappointed to see the sun just begin to rise lazily over the mountains. Although he had been very nervous and anxious about his meeting with Manon after months apart and leaving things so up in the air, he did not expect sleep to evade him as it had.

There had been a lot of thinking done since the Witch-Queen accepted the offer to meet up in Anielle, and most of it had nothing to do with business or politics and all to do with him wanting to share meals, stories…a bed.

He even stupidly wondered if she had met someone. He knew a good number of Fae had moved to the Wastes, knew there were plenty of males and females who whispered about her beauty, even while in the middle of battle back in Orynth. There was no way she hadn't received come-ons since then, especially when she was so venerated.

His letter had been titled 'Princeling' however, and Dorian was a little ashamed to admit that he kept the thing on his nightstand, if only because his budding and confusing feelings for her had only intensified.

His magic made him turn toward the window and through the dark he could've sworn-

The boom of wings, familiar even after all these months apart made his heart skip a beat and Dorian didn't care that it was barely dawn and he looked like he had not slept since getting there, the king sped out of there like he was being chased, going out into the emptied courtyard that had been prepped for this very reason and watching, entranced, as a small adult wyvern landed on the dirt ground a few feet in front of him.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her white hair was unbound and wind-kissed, falling alluringly over her shoulders in a way that made him want to run his hands through it. The face was what really blew him away though, especially with that small smile that made his chest feel tight.

Manon Blackbeak-Crochan dropped down from her wyvern in one swift motion and watched him carefully, the smile still in place as she said, "hello, princeling."

There were a million questions he wanted to ask, a million things he wanted to tell her, but he only grinned back. "Hello, witchling," he breathed out before walking forward.

The fresh spring sunrise, even in Anielle, made her absolutely shimmer and Dorian hesitated for only a moment before he asked, "can-may we hug?"

Manon seemed to need a few seconds before she focused on what he was saying, as if she had been drinking him in too. He didn't have to wait for an answer as she went forward herself and oh, he could have melted at the hug, at the feeling of her pressed against him, the scent of winter winds and cool night air enveloping him, filling in an emptiness he hadn't even realized existed before.

Home.

That's what she felt like.

Dorian hadn't noticed how tightly he was hugging her until he felt a wiggle, and he moved away, apologies on his lips before he caught the expression on her face.

"Sorry, someone doesn't like being squished."

Confusion overtook him as Manon unbuttoned the top part of her leathers. Dorian's jaw dropped as the cutest kitten he had ever seen popped it's little white and gray head out, meowing loudly. "Oh, my Wyrd," he exclaimed as the witch took the little creature out and cradled it delicately in her hands.

"This is Nieve," she muttered.

Regaining his manhood, Dorian held back a squeal. "You got a kitten?" He asked and the face she made had him chuckling.

"I suppose I did," Manon said as the king patted the little one's head and the kitten blinked large green eyes at him. From her tone, he wondered who among Glennis, Petrah, and Brownen had managed to convince her to keep it. Maybe a mix of all three.

When Nieve meowed again, Dorian spoke. "We should go inside, just in case she gets too cold."

Manon turned to Abraxos just as a guard bowed low to both of them. "We have accommodations for your wyvern, Your Majesty."

The witch seemed surprised, and after a look of confirmation from Dorian who knew that the stable had been outfitted to fit a wyvern comfortably, she nodded to the guard. A quick goodbye to Abraxos, who sniffed at the kitten once before giving a slight nuzzle to Manon and they were inside the fortress walking along the hallway Dorian had been sprinting through only minutes before.

"Would you like to hold her?" Manon asked after a moment and Dorian tried to keep his excitement in as he nodded.

"I'm surprised you didn't bring any guards with you," he said as the kitten took one look at who was holding her and attempted to climb the new obstacle. The obstacle being Dorian's chest.

"They'll be here in a couple of hours, once they notice I'm gone."

Dorian laughed. "And I thought I was being sneaky when I left my tower two weeks ago through the window. Took my guards about an hour to notice I was gone, and the panic that spread was so intense, I haven't tried it again."

Manon huffed in amusement as she took in the barren walls and old sconces doting the hallway. "I wanted to get here first." She looked at him then, and despite having a kitten trying to climb up his head using surprisingly sharp claws, he was struck by her expression. Gods, she was beautiful.

"I'm glad you got here first," he answered sincerely. Before he got too distracted and tried to kiss her, he added, "Lord Westfall has a room prepped for you on the other side of the fortress. I can take you there if you want or…"

Unsure of where they stood, he met those burnt gold eyes and wondered how he was going to stop his heart from breaking if she decided to stay away from him, even if they were still in the same building.

"Or?" She asked.

He smiled, red tinting his cheeks. "Or you could stay with me."

They stared at each other for a moment, Dorian wondering if he had been too forward. Manon opened her mouth-

"I thought I heard a wyvern land," someone else interrupted, and it took a second for the King of Adarlan to turn his gaze.

Yrene stood before them, in a lovely spring dress that complemented her eyes and left space for her large belly. Her smile was wide as she took in Manon. "Your Majesty," she said happily as she gave a short bow in the witch's direction.

Manon raised an eyebrow as she nodded back. "Hello Yrene, you know you don't have to call me that."

Yrene just waved her off before those hazel eyes bulged. "Is that a kitten?!"

By the time they had made it to the common room, Yrene had been hissed and pawed at twice before Manon could convince the tiny cat that she wasn't an enemy wanting to take her away.

Chaol's father, Lord Westfall sat at the front of a large fireplace his son speaking to him in a low voice next to him. Dorian didn't need to use his magic to know the King's Hand was trying desperately to have his father behave in front of foreign royalty. He couldn't wait to see how the Lord of Anielle and the Witch-Queen would interact.

Chaol noticed them first and cleared his throat before lowering his head as far as his spine would allow. With Yrene's progressing pregnancy, he had less help from her magic and would need his chair more often, not that it concerned him. "Your Majesty," he greeted sternly, "welcome to Anielle. Thank you for joining us."

Dorian smiled at his friend, who gave his father a quick look as the old man spoke. "So, you're the Witch-Queen?" He paused and observed Manon closely. "I hope the title was gained through your competence and not your looks."

Chaol appeared absolutely mortified, while Yrene and Dorian shared a wide look. Manon, however, was calm as could be as she simply said, "your home is lovely."

Lord Westfall seemed unconvinced. "Yes, well, please do not interrupt the work being done here." If the old man meant the work Dorian and Chaol had been doing with the ruhkin or the fact that the man had gotten into his head that he somehow had influence over any sort of decision made by Adarlan, Dorian couldn't begin to guess.

His witchling only gave the lord a smile that would send lesser men running. "I'm sure with a king like the one you have; nothing will hinder any work you have going." Dorian could have kissed her as he held back a grin.

A sneer was her answer, but then Lord Westfall seemed to notice something, especially as it meowed several times and made Yrene scramble to keep the little one in her arms. He outright glared at Manon, and Dorian knew for a fact that the man had never encountered a witch before, or he would have been extensively more careful with what he said and did around someone who could literally skin him alive without much effort.

"Animals of any kind are not allowed within these walls. They carry and propagate diseases. I'm sure the stablemen can find a spot for the beast outside this keep."

As amusing as it was watching Chaol's father face off against Manon, there was a line being drawn here that Dorian was not a fan of letting it be crossed. "With how good the witch healers are, I'm sure Nieve carries no diseases," he informed charmingly, "and you are speaking to royalty here, Lord Westfall, I'm sure Her Majesty will keep the kitten secure."

The man only scowled before asking to be dismissed as his breakfast would be served soon and he preferred eating alone.

"Good riddance," Yrene muttered, low enough for only Manon and Dorian to hear and causing both of them to smile. When they were finally out of earshot and able to breathe better Chaol, who had followed after them, let out a breath in relief.

"Now that that's over with…breakfast?"

Even though she nodded along with Dorian and Yrene, Manon went for Nieve. "I should set her up in a room first, it's been a long trip and she's very hungry." Considering how the kitten was meowing like it truly was near starvation, Manon was wise to want to feed her.

"I think I'd be screaming just as loudly if I wasn't a human," Yrene cut in, "come love, I need chocolate."

As Chaol was dragged away in his chair, both Manon and Dorian chuckled as they overheard him say "chocolate for breakfast? I think not" followed by a low growl that made Dorian glad he wasn't at the receiving end of.

Left alone with a loud kitten, the king swallowed nervously as he faced Manon. "So-"

"Yes," she said quietly.

"What?"

"I'd like to share a room with you," Manon clarified and as he smiled, she added, "just as long as you don't mind some extra company." She lifted the kitten, who mewled like she knew they were talking about her.

Dorian bowed low, "I'd be honored." ________________________________________________________________

Manon

Her witches arrived a little earlier than she expected, and Manon wondered what Dorian was thinking when one of her two guards, a young Yellowlegs witch named Ash snarled at her for leaving without them. That spitfire attitude and her intense loyalty were the main reasons Manon herself had selected the witch from among many volunteers.

"You do know she is our queen, right? Regardless of how thoughtless some of her decisions are you should show respect."

Manon narrowed her eyes at her other guard, a Crochan witch who appeared and acted more like a Blackbeak with dark hair and eyes called Skye. Where Ash was all recklessness and fire, Skye was the calm before the storm, intelligent and logical. Brownen had introduced her to Manon not two days after their arrival at the Wastes, and she had proven herself enough that she stood here now, a soot-black wyvern in tow.

"I expected you both an hour from now," was the only thing Manon replied as the wyverns were led to the stables where Abraxos was currently staying in. "Nice job."

"A test?!" Ash demanded, enraged.

Manon only shrugged, uncaring as she faced Dorian, who was eyeing the two witches with an expression the Witch-Queen didn't want to identify. He caught himself as Skye remembered her manners. "Your Majesty," she said, bowing at Dorian. "I am Skye Crochan and this fool is Ash Yellowlegs."

The Yellowlegs scoffed, but joined in on the bow, her wild tangle of blond hair barely contained within her war braids. Dorian smiled at them both, the expression from before now gone. "It's nice to meet you both."

He met eyes with Manon, "ready for the ruhkin?"

The witch nodded, going over what he had told her as she had prepared a small pen for Nieve to stay in back in their room and after a shared breakfast of eggs, meats, and toast. The ruhkin and the wyvern eggs had been camping out near Anielle for the past few months on a nearby mountain that had a road which connected to the town below. Ideally, they would be moving to the Ferian Gap, if not to live there permanently, then to use it as a place to train both wyverns and riders until they were ready to return to Rifthold. Ruhks were also brought in, to Manon's surprise, and new hatchlings would be raised and trained next to wyverns, both to get them used to each other and form bonds.

During her time in the Wastes, Manon had taken up lessons and read books on history and culture. It had been slow to start at first, especially when her thoughts would constantly drift, but it had been worth it and when Dorian introduced her to Iaras and Nebur, a pair of sibling riders that had been chosen to lead the host in Adarlan she was at least partially acquainted with their culture and hierarchy.

The duo, who didn't particularly look like siblings apart from being of the same territory, had bowed and offered a greeting in Halha to which she responded in kind. The silence afterward had made her blink, wondering if her pronunciation had been wrong and she had said something offensive in its place.

"You speak Halha?" Iaras had asked, her voice deep and fitting for her stature, as tall or taller than Dorian even when she was a woman.

Manon had understood the question but reverted back to the common tongue. "I've only learned some of the basics. A family that had been based in Antica and fought in the war decided to make the Wastes their home with us. One of the older siblings had been a scholar and offered to tutor me every so often." For some reason, Dorian had stared at her like she was a different person, the admiration being mirrored in the siblings' faces. It made Manon fall quiet.

Nebur grinned, his ruggedly handsome face crinkling. "You honor us, Your Majesty, you seem to be as lovely as you look."

The clear suggestive tone made Manon raise an amused eyebrow as Dorian cleared his throat and Iaras shook her head. "Ignore him, Your Majesties, he is shameless. Please, let us show you how we keep the hatchlings before you decide to end this whole thing altogether."

Manon had been impressed by the resourcefulness of the ruhkin. Not only did their camp appear more like a town than a temporary garrison, the little information they got from the witches before the leave in Orynth was used to the fullest. They utilized greenhouses to simulate a warm nesting ground and positioned the few grown wyverns they had in strategic places where makeshift aeries had been made of wood and lightweight brick.

The camp itself had the tents and small buildings where hearths and living spaces were kept. A small market and school were even present in the center plaza, which consisted of a recently built stone well that served as the village center. At this altitude even the warmth of spring couldn't reach, and snow still covered most of the open areas. The cold reminded Manon of the Wastes and she wondered how exactly Dorian noticed her distraction when he had asked about her thoughts whilst in the middle of their tour.

They ended up staying for a good number of hours planning, meeting, and looking over the grown wyverns, the handful of hatchlings, and the eggs. Although Manon had very little experience with young wyverns, an Overseer back in Morath had spent a week showing her the pens within the mountains and taught her about how they figured out when and where to separate wyverns and if a hatchling was even viable to begin with.

The rukhin siblings had listened to her closely, even with Nebur's charming compliments whenever she had something to say. After sharing a lunch with a group of potential wyvern riders, Manon and Dorian finally made their way back to the forest directly next to the Westfall fortress. They had chatted excitedly the entire way, and Manon felt herself smiling more than she ever had, especially when the king seemed to be as interested in the development of the aerial legion as she had.

There was a moment, however, where Dorian stopped, and Manon felt a hint of nerves as he waited for her to stand next to him. His smile was still present, which kept her worries at bay, but the way he was looking at her made the witch reconsider their day together. She supposed there was still much to talk about, and although they were sharing a room, neither had made a move for intimacy, not that it had been easy to do with the schedule they carried.

"I know there are a lot of things right now that need our attention," he began and the way the sun reflected on his dark hair, a bit longer than she last saw him, made him look all the more beautiful. "And I also know that despite all the good news going on with our kingdoms, there is still a lot of work to be done."

Manon nodded, because he seemed to need it. Slowly, tantalizingly, Dorian lifted a hand and when he placed it on her cheek, she couldn't help but get closer, her eyes dropping to his lips. Yes, there were many things to talk about, many questions unanswered, but there had been a need building within her from the moment she saw him. She could see it in his eyes too, the want to be alone.

"I'm surprised it took you this long, princeling," she teased, her voice dropping into a purr that made his eyes flash.

Warmth began to pool in her belly as he leaned down. His hand dropped from her neck to her waist, the blatant possession breaking the fog she had been living with and replacing it with sapphire-colored starlight. He smirked as his lips brushed hers. "It's worth it, the wait for you."

Manon couldn't help herself as she initiated the kiss, closing the distance and tasting home as he responded readily, as hungry as she was. Her hands traveled up from his hips to his neck and the groan he gave her only made her want him closer. She might have said it into the kiss, because Dorian was suddenly picking her up, her legs hooking around his waist as he placed her against a tree.

Manon would have allowed him to take her right there if he wanted to, even with the cold or potentially prying eyes, but he broke the kiss and when she growled in protest he chuckled.

"As much as I would like to have you against this tree," he told her as he pressed his body against hers causing Manon to breath out. "I want to take all the time I need while I worship you."

She went for his face and kissed him again, but it was softer this time, more a promise than anything else. "We do share a room," Manon muttered and the smile he gave her made her consider just stripping off everything right there and then instead of waiting until they got to the room. ________________________________________________________________

Dorian

It was almost painful to extricate himself from her, to place the witch down and settle for holding her hand as they both hurried to the fortress. Dorian took her through the servant quarters, avoiding anyone that came close and stealing kisses as they went as if they were in one of the many romance novels he enjoyed reading.

They had time to themselves until dinner, and Dorian would make sure he spent that time wisely. As they passed the last corner that lead into their room, his mind already coming up with ways to enjoy themselves, Manon suddenly froze. So intense was her change, that Dorian's magic surged as it searched for the source of her fear. Because it was fear that was going through her as she said, "the door is open."

Thinking she could sense someone in there, Dorian used his magic to check ahead, but when he found nothing, he just looked back at her. The witch went for the door and when he followed her in, he finally understood. Although everything in the room was untouched and their things were exactly where they left them, just as the door, the small balcony screen was wide open, the chill air making the curtains rustle.

Manon dropped in front of the small pen she had so carefully prepared that morning, the blankets and toys were tossed around, but the small box filled with hay so that the kitten had a place to relieve itself in the corner was untouched. Only the food was gone, which the kitten had eaten while he and Manon had still been in the room. He remembered they had left the little one cuddled up to a stuffed toy under a blanket, warm and safe.

"We'll find her, alright?" Dorian said as he went to the balcony and prayed the kitten wasn't splattered on the cobblestone below. He rushed back into the room when he saw nothing of the sort or any evidence that the kitten had been out in the balcony at all. "She must be somewhere close."

But Manon wasn't listening and as the king stopped his searching for long enough to notice he knew Chaol had been right. She was on her knees, head tilted down, shoulders in, looking as broken and sad as she had that first night he found her in the aerie next to Abraxos back in Orynth.

His heart broke at the sight, at the thoughts that had filled his mind all day when he saw her smile and joke and wanting him. He shouldn't have let what he saw on the surface fool him. Manon wasn't fine, she was thinner, had gone ahead of her sentinels because she couldn't sleep, and although interested in what ruhkin were doing with the wyverns he had caught her losing focus and being distracted. And although she ate that morning and during lunch the portions had been meager, as if she couldn't bring herself to eat more.

Stupid of him, to ignore it all because he had been living in his own little perfect fantasy. Selfish of him too, especially because what he saw now was a witch who had been walking on glass since she left Orynth and a single wrong step would send her crashing. The kitten going missing was the breaking point.

Determination filled him as Dorian focused. He would help his witchling, and make sure he wouldn't make the same mistake again. Manon's sentinels had been left back at the camp to help with some of the grown wyverns and there had been no guards in front of their room because there had been no one in there to guard. Except for a tiny, very important, kitten. Whatever had happened, there probably hadn't been any witnesses.

So the king reached out with his magic and searched for Yrene with it, letting her know that he needed help with a brush against her own healing magic. He wouldn't leave Manon's side, even when he knew every second counted when it came to retrieving Nieve.

Both Chaol and Yrene came soon after, along with a half dozen guards, and while the healer immediately went to Manon, Dorian quickly explained to Chaol what had happened. The man nodded along with what his king said and Dorian had never loved his brother as much as he did that moment when Chaol only said, "I'll handle it, stay with her." ________________________________________________________________

Chaol

Chaol Westfall did not spend much time observing the witch or the fact that his wife was quietly trying to get Manon to lower her hands from her ears, as if the broken Witch-Queen had wanted to shut all sound out.

He turned to Dorian. "I'll handle it, stay with her."

The king thanked him, relieved, and the Hand didn't think too long on how terrified Dorian was, the concern so deeply etched in his face that Chaol feared the man was already too far down in his love for the witch to get back up.

So, he did what any friend would do. What any brother would do.

He took care of it.

With a quick motion, he ordered all the guards out of the room. Once in the hallway he sent five of the six away in search of the cat. To the last one he asked, "where's my father?"

Because nothing went on in the fortress without his father knowing and the fact that both the door and the balcony screen had been open while nothing had been taken was a clear indication that this entire thing could be internally orchestrated. Despite the letters Chaol, his mother, and brother now shared and even when his father seemed at least pleased that Chaol was about to become a father himself, the man still had plenty of problems that they still had to work on.

Hardly relying on his cane with the surge of Yrene's healing magic coursing through him, the King's Hand practically barreled through the double doors that led to his father's study on the western edge of the complex.

Lord Westfall glared daggers at him as Chaol made his way to the desk. "You may be my son, but barging in like this is-"

"Where's the cat?" Chaol cut in, his voice as sharp as the look he was receiving from his father.

Lord Westfall didn't even bother to look surprised as he asked, bitterly, "what cat?"

Knowing nightfall was approaching and also aware of how this was affecting not just Manon, but her entire kingdom, Chaol cut all corners. "You're going to listen to what I'm about to tell you and you will not, under any circumstances, interrupt me. Am I clear?"

There was pure distaste in his father's eyes, but the man said nothing as he sat back in his expensive leather chair. At least he was willing to listen.

"Manon Blackbeak not only defied and fought against her own people for the good of Erilea and the world, she aided Terassen in its call for help, saved your King on two separate occasions, risked her life multiple times, and was a key player in keeping all of us safe and alive. And because I know your memory seems to fail you in your old age, she also lost her entire family that day and she is still grieving heavily because of it."

He paused to take breath and to also allow the words to settle and permeate.

"So not only is she a new queen of a new kingdom, she also has to deal with uniting a people who had been at war for centuries, protecting her new vulnerable borders, and actively form alliances. She's here to help us, help Adarlan, when she could have refused. And she is doing all this while having lost all twelve of her sisters mere months ago. I know you heard Yrene when she spoke to me this morning on how pets can help tremendously in the grieving process. So, not only do you insult her presence here by telling her animals are not allowed but after knowing how deep her grief is you decide to be the villain and take her cat too?"

Fury danced freely in Chaol's eyes, his hand shaking as he gripped his cane so hard his knuckles were beginning to hurt. Because he knew what pain was, had watched Dorian go through it, Aelin, had experienced it himself while in the southern continent. He was done with it and he was not about to let his own father continue to propagate it.

Lord Westfall's jaw shifted, his teeth gritted, as he took his time arranging the papers on his large mahogany desk and cleared his throat.

When Chaol was about to tell him that he would do nothing to protect him if Dorian came down for a talk later, the man spoke. "I had a servant take the cat to the stables with Her Majesty's wyvern. I'm sure the two beasts are fine."

The King's Hand wasted no time, slamming the door to the study behind him as he practically ran to the stables, ignoring the stinging in his back as he did so. The wyverns all had large open wooden stables built to the north side of the fortress, on the highest elevated part of the structure, and remained free to hunt and roam in the nearby forest for game and, in Abraxos' case, to lay in the new spring flowers that bloomed even in Anielle. The issue with these stables was how cold it could get. While the wyverns enjoyed it, Chaol worried the tiny cat wouldn't be able to survive the temperature for very long.

The man had no need to worry as he spotted Abraxos curled up in the middle of the five stables, the two other wyverns that had come with the witches were busy snoozing closer to the tree line. Unused to being so close to Abraxos, and mindful that his rider wasn't here, Chaol kept his distance as the scarred head turned to him.

"Um, hello Abraxos."

Did wyverns understand? What kind of commands did this ancient animal even know?

"Is the kitten-is Nieve with you?" Please just let the kitten be alive, please.

Impossibly, Abraxos perked at the sound of the cat's name and the wyvern carefully lifted its spread wing to reveal a tiny little bundle curled up against the scale-less stomach. Alive, breathing, and meowing loudly as it spotted Chaol watching even from the relative distance.

"Okay, don't eat me, I just want to take the cat back to Manon, okay?" He told Abraxos, feeling dumb the entire time. "I'm taking Nieve to Manon," he repeated slowly.

That large tail started moving, and Chaol swore the wyvern was watching him in amusement as the man inched forward until he was practically within the stable. Heart beating fast, Chaol muttered about the many ways Dorian would repay him as he took the kitten and backed away like Abraxos might reconsider and take a chunk out of him. ________________________________________________________________

Dorian

It felt like an eternity since Chaol had left with the guards and when he came back. Dorian had felt utterly powerless as Manon had succumbed further into a spiral, looking for all intents and purposes utterly defeated. Not even Yrene's whispers of comfort got through her, and although Dorian wanted to help, he had no idea of what to say, because he recognized the look in her glazed eyes. He had experienced something similar when he lost Sorscha, when he had been trapped by the Wyrdstone collar, a Valg prince inside him.

He had been softly stroking her hair when Chaol rushed in, breathing heavily and leaning into his cane while in his free hand-

Yrene stood up with an 'oh!,' before taking the kitten, tears already forming in her eyes as she went back to Manon and Dorian. The latter spoke. "Nieve's right here, Manon. She's fine and safe. Chaol found her."

Recognizing the witch, the kitten positively screamed, fighting against Yrene and dropping into Manon's waiting hands. As if a veil had been lifted, that beautiful face regained motion and Dorian felt emotion rise within him as he watched her lift the purring kitten and take her close to her chest.

She looked behind them, to Chaol, who was still catching his breath. "Thank you."

Even Dorian smiled at the redness in his Hand's cheeks as the man bowed. "Anytime, Your Majesty." ________________________________________________________________

*'Nieve' is Spanish for 'snow' and is pronounced knee-eh-veh. Within tog the cat isn't a specific breed, but for the sake of how I imagine her, Nieve is a white and gray Siberian Cat, so she's going to grow quite big and fluffy.

Tags: @rufousnmacska (my lovely beta), @awesomelena555, @bookishwitchling If you’d like to be included in the tags, please let me know!

Thank you! My other Manorian fics.

#manorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #tog #manon x dorian #chaorene #I miss my cats and that's probably why I gave her a cat

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tziska · 7 years

Text

Time to Bear Arms

Two Weeks Ago... [Excerpt from RP]

"Figured it'd be as simple as sculpting or making one that fit, fitting it into place, then, y'know... making it real."

"Did you want to be attached to a potentially conductive lump of flesh while I send a few thousand volts through it? I knew you were interested in playing with electricity, my love, but I thought you were going to start easy."

"No," he shot back, "but you'll forgive me if for one, I'm anxious t' have an actual arm back, an' for another, I don't understand how th' magic of such a scenario works. You're th' one with knowledge of making the arm itself, all I know is... how t' watch th' process an' eventually receive the sodding thing."

"Too easy, love. I can explain my theory to you and perhaps you can find the holes in it. I know the magic isn't your strong suit, but intelligence is."

"Do explain, because I feel as though I'm a part of this in presence only. You haven't even mentioned anything about actually making the arm in question, so I'd like t' know if we've gotten at least t' step one yet."

"When I first had this notion - back when we went to the Isle of Thunder - I commissioned a stone-carver. I have-..." The knight sighed heavily, her ears drooping back in something like remorse or mild shame. "I have three marble prototypes carved off measurements and calculations I've made observing your right arm. I might've paid rather close attention to such things over the last year and a half."

Ordinarily it would have sounded strange to know someone had measured his arm over the time they'd spent around him, but in this case it was somewhat endearing. That, and she wasn't the only one studying her partner, which he'd openly admitted to in the past. "You know... you could've jus' asked for some time set aside t' make measurements," Cad snickered. "Obviously I'm not above posing shirtless for you, especially when it's for something like this."

"Yes, well..." Tziska clucked her tongue softly. "I was a little disheartened in Pandaria when it seemed like you were expressing no use for my work. All three prototypes are in my shop in Orgrimmar. I plan to grave the runes for the magic array right into the marble after selecting the best fit. The electricity will activate the magic and - from everything I've been able to discern from small-scale experiments - the transition to a new state will be permanent and irreversible."

Cad's brows rose. "Apologies if I gave that impression, but most things involving magic an' its application tend t' go over my head." As far as what her research had yielded, "An' so help me understand, what's th' plan for when we find this power source to activate these runes. How do we attach the arm, when, what's t' prevent it from deteriorating... what're th' logistics here?"

"There will be some unavoidable necromancy involved. I'll have to cut some raising and binding runes into your skin at the attachment site. We get enough current through the stone to activate the array and turn it to flesh, then we attach it to you with stitches and a rune array that...well...gives you a small measure of the same power I use to take control of you. Those strings of undeath... It's what will seal the arm to you and make it an extension of your will as easily as any limb. In a few weeks, you won't be able to tell it's not original to your form." The knight hummed softly. "The necromancy will also take the flesh the same way it takes any other dead flesh, preserving it the same way we are preserved. In essence, we're cursing an innocent limb into undeath."

The way Tziska detailed the process made him anxiously look at the point where meat gave way to metal. Reflexively he raised and lowered the mechanical shoulder, eyes moving over the smooth titanium to the bit where she'd be cutting. That particular choice of word didn't sit well with him. "So until it fully takes, the arm won't entirely be mine as much as I'll, ahm... be controlling it?" Cad tried with an attempt at rephrasing in a language he could understand. "Think I get it."

"Well... More that the controlling will be how it becomes yours. Until there's those strings of necromancy to turn the flesh from dead to undead, it won't be of any use. Then, you'll have command of those threads while the magic that keeps you going meshes with the magic animating the arm. Eventually, it'll be seamless. But you'll always have a little bit of that power of command after this. A little more resistance." A little bit of me...

Black brows knitted in thought. "Forgive me if I'm extrapolating a bit too much from all this," the Forsaken asked, "but are you saying that I'll 'ave some small bit o' control over the dead because that's what'll keep me in control of my arm?" Again his attention turned to the mechanical arm, his left hand turning while fingers curled inward and outward. "Not, ahm-- not t' th' same extent as you're capable of, right?"

With her head bent over his, she watched him turn his prosthetic hand. "Essentially... Yes. Not to the same strength as I do but... Well enough. Perhaps more importantly for you, you'll find it easier to shrug off those times when I pull at your strings."

"Assuming you don't push me enough t' make me want to. Part of me imagines it won't play well with what's already making me tick, but this sort o' thing is over my head for th' most part."

"So far," she murmured, "small infusions of my power interfering with what makes you tick haven't produced any adverse results, and experiments among the Ebon Blade have given me plenty of data on exactly how much power it'd take to raise you as a death knight. We're going nowhere near that much."

Yesterday...

It wasn’t every day that you got to say “Here, try this arm on.”

The mechanical prosthetic had been one of those flawed things that had been workable, functional, sometimes even fun at times - but always ticking something in the back of her mind. This could be better. This could be more. The drive to craft a more perfect replacement for Cad’s left arm had consumed her thoughts for more than a year. The Famine nearly got away with her once, she’d been so involved in the research.

Cadmus would have needed more than an arm if she hadn’t been stopped.

In her tattoo shop in Orgrimmar, Tziska ran her frostbite-blackened fingers over the smooth grey marble in the shape of a human man’s left arm. A statue carved by a master, it was the very best she could get - and she’d paid for three of them. Each had slight variations in size and shoulder shape. The arm under her fingers was the right fit. This was the one. The knight rested her hand against the stone palm, picturing how it would curve to fit her own larger one. How the fingers would twine with hers. How the barrel of a rifle would fit in its grasp. Tziska caressed the cold satin finish one more time, then balanced the stone on a pillowed stand in her workshop. Unlike the glass eye with the dozen layers of complexity, super-fine etched detail, and intense magical expenditure, the arm would draw power from the electricity that would force the stone-to-flesh magic. The runes to grave delicately on the stone needed precision and care, but she didn’t have to magically freeze her surroundings to work.

Pulling a stool up, she plucked a stick of chalk from a canister on her desk and set about marking the proper placement of each rune. The first and most important were the runes of the Mogu secrets; stone to flesh was a lost magic and reconstructing it had been no easy feat. Next were the runes of necromancy, gut-twisting runes of unholy power; quite literally, she would be cursing innocent flesh into undeath. Runes of binding and controlling, endurance and stability - nothing less than perfection would do for her falcon. On the inside of the shoulder where it would be sewn to meet Cad’s own flesh, a complex and delicate array to bind the creation wholly to the matching array she would carve into his skin.

Tziska paused before chalking the final two runes inside the center of the array. One was a bindrune representing Cadmus himself, a representative connection to mesh the marble cleanly and permanently to his own innate magic. The other... Well, the other was her own bindrune.

When the chalking was done and the stone engraving complete, she ran her fingertips over the bindrunes and felt the echo of her own power thrumming beneath her fingers. Her falcon would have a piece of her magic, meager though it was. Born null, what she had now was by the questionable virtue of her condition - and she was giving the Forsaken enough of a piece of it that he could control undead. A little. “Promise me you’ll still let me have a little fun drawing that violet spark to your eyes?” She sighed mournfully before wrapping up the stone to take to Naxxramas. It was time and then some to finish this quest.

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