#With fate loom over them like a cloud about to rain a storm
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"If I knew sooner what fate had store for us, I'll do everything in my power to prevent it from happening. But if I did I couldn't see you, and that somehow worse and much cruel fate."
[OCS: Jupiter x Kai]
#Or as I like to call them#Jupkai#This is from my drafts that I didn't post here yet#I love them and I love drawing them hugging#With fate loom over them like a cloud about to rain a storm#venus rambling#firevenus ocs#Ocs#original character#firevenus art
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all of this (& heaven too) - hades!Gojo
He is not what you pictured. You had a painted image in your head of a terrifying immortal, ancient and dreary, who ruled over the dead. Instead you discover the king of the underworld is young, all brilliant wide smiles, and more importantly - dangerously handsome.
Or
You are a goddess of spring torn between two fates, that is until you meet a strange man leaning against a tree…
pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader
tags & warnings: 18+ only mdni, loose interpretation and altering of the hades & persephone myth, complicated/strained parental relationship (could be read as controlling/manipulative), mentions of kidnapping, brief physical assault, clingy + lovesick Gojo, slight wound licking and finger sucking, allusion to fem!oral receiving, Gojo being Gojo and offering gruesome violence as a form of love… if there is anything I missed pls let me know!!
wc: 14k
a/n: title is from the florence + the machine song of the same name. I already hate myself for wanting to write a companion piece to this from gojo’s pov… okay that’s all please enjoy, thank you for reading! Also biggest thank you to @stellamancer & @willowser who have been my best comrades in Gojo hell
When you were just a young little sapling your mother once asked you what your favorite thing about this world was.
“The great big sky!” You had told her brightly.
“The sky?” Your mother asked, amused. “Not any of the flowers? The rivers? Or the fields, my little sprout?”
“Nope!” You were adamant.
“Then why?” Your mother grinned and so you told her.
“Because it’s so big! Like there’s so much room to grow!”
Then you added. “And it’s so blue, like the sea!”
Your mother had laughed warm, vibrantly loud like the morning rays waking you up.
The sky. You always loved the sky. Even as an immortal crafted from ichor and stardust, the sky made you feel mortal in the best ways, especially now.
Now, as a fully matured celestial being, you are as old as one of the grand redwood trees you loved running alongside when you were a little.
You glance up at the sky while the wind blusters through your fields. Even with looming clouds clustering above signaling the arrival of a storm, you find reassurance there. The storm now actually feels comforting as a similar storm of unrest swirls inside of you. You stomp down from the mountain not even waiting for your mother.
That entire meeting with her, you, and the lord of the skies was pointless. Gakuganji, with his thunderous melodies and even with all his wisdom, made you curse the skies.
“We shall need to discuss terms of the arranged courting rituals soon.” You had almost choked when you heard the old god’s words. He could not be serious.
Even when you yelled confused, even when your mother sent you a sharp glare to keep quiet, Gakuganji never once acknowledged you. It was like you were not even present, just a simple wallflower ignored against the grander of other immortals. Because to them, you would always be a little sapling, your mothers offspring, nothing more.
The thunder booms ahead and you wish the rain would pour down on you. Maybe the rain would help simmer you down.
“Well now, don’t you look just as feral as a chimera?” A voice emerges,a coy playful tone you’ve never heard before.
When you snap your gaze to the side, you discover a man. Clothed in deep obsidian robes, he seems just as tall as the sycamore tree he leans against.
His hair is a startling white and -
His eyes are blindfolded.
Being so close to the sacred grounds tells you this man must be another immortal. But you had never met him before.
Then again, you had happily enjoyed staying unaware among your blooms. You wistfully ignored the problems and squabbles the others had. Even when you came of age centuries ago you did not have any desire to accompany your mother to Olympus. It was only recently that she began dragging you with her. Now you wonder if that decision has caused you to be the fool.
You glare at the mystery man. “I’m just fine, thank you.”
“Mhm, doesn’t look like it.” His taunts lightly and it makes you want to shriek.
“Wanna tell me who’s responsible?” Now his lips form into a soft grin. “I could deal with them for you.”
Even as strange as this man is, there’s some sense of comfort in his casual comment. The tension in your body, even in your face, slowly flutters away.
You sigh. “No it’s fine.”
Looking at his covered eyes, you already wonder what color they are.
Your name is called out sharp before you can ask your mystery man what his name is. Your mother’s voice snaps your spine straight. Quickly whipping around you see her scurrying to you with wide worried eyes.
“Head home, little sprout.” She urges you.
“Wait, why?”
“Head. Home.” Her words echo with the same force as the storm brewing around you.
Your mother’s magic swiftly swirls all around. She is getting ready to sweep you into the wind that helps her run along her wheat fields. You can’t help it. Your eyes fall to the mystery man. His handsome features smirk amused. You mother however stares at him as if he is an abomination from the depths of the underworld.
“Lord Gojo, good day to you.” And when she says his name, you discover this mystery man is not just from the depths of the underworld, but its ruler.
Your heart plummets fast into your stomach. The strangest concoction of emotions swirls in you. Terror and curiosity are not a desirable pair to navigate through.
Then in a wild gust, you are teleported home. You wonder if your mind might have flown out in the whirlwind because you still cannot believe it.
You just met the Lord of the underworld.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧
His existence was a simple phrase of his name you were told never to utter.
Lord Gojo.
The strongest of the immortals. The rumors paint him as a mindless monster who slaughtered titans during the Great War. He was a ghastly terror. The only immortal fit to rule over the dreary underworld. You used to paint him in your mind as someone aged like Gakuganji. The lord was carved from myth, ancient and terrifying. So you imagined him more creature than man.
Yet instead he exists a smiling handsome man who appears to you now.
“M-my Lord!” You stammer out frantically.
You had been sitting by the riverside braiding another floral crown to keep your mind at ease. Then, out of the blue, like a strike of lightning, the underworld’s king appears beside you.
“Oh no,” Gojo simply waves. “Please no titles, they disgust me.”
You almost choke on your own confused inhale.
“What are you doing here?” You squawk confused, trying to ignore how rapid your heart races in your chest.
This god was painted to be a terrifying tale. You mother once even told you he would only bring chaos and misfortune to anyone who crosses his path.
Now he lounges beside you under the shade of the trees.
“I came to see if you were alright. You looked so upset before.”
His words knock you breathless. Your mind could not believe this was truly the dreaded god of the underworld. Suddenly said king gasps obnoxiously loud and you almost jump out of your skin.
“What are you making?!” He leans down to point at the flowers in your lap.
“Flower crowns, they’re for the village children nearby.”
You loved to leave them off at the edge of the fields where the children played. Whenever you catch them wearing the bright floral wreaths your heart soars .
“Aw, that’s sweet.” Gojo admires, like a loud wind chime. “Can you make one for me then!?”
You wonder if the ground has given out from under you. The man whispered to be pure power, now wears a childish frown with his lip sticking out in a full on pout.
“Please?” He pleads.
Left with no choice, your attention goes back to the flowers bunched lonely in your lap and you furiously return to braiding.
“That one better be for me!” The king of the underworld comments in a song-like tone. A quick temptation rises in you to throw the flowers in the nearby river.
“What are you even doing here?” For some reason, you blurt that out.
The words leave before you can stop yourself and your eyes widen in horror. This is it. Your mind jumps to every awful thing he could probably do to you. And he does the absolute worst.
He laughs.
It colors his cheeks lovely and you hate how it somehow intensifies his handsome features even more.
“I told you! I wanted to check up on you.” Gojo smiles toothy but swiftly the image of a grinning crocodile waiting in the water comes to mind.
“I don’t believe you.” Again, you speak out too fast. Thankfully his lips thin into an amused line.
“You’re a lot more perceptive than you look, I like that.”
His words shake your brain, a fierce little rattle that has you staring at him stunned. Your heart races to find a regular beat.
“Well,” Gojo sighs. “I did have an annoying meeting with the others. But… while I was up here I thought I’d drop by and see how you were doing, petals.”
The fond playful name he bestows upon you is done so casually. Yet, it snags your breath.
Petals.
The nickname has your mind reeling until you fully process what he said. The meeting he went to was the same one your mother must have gone to earlier and is still at.
“What was it about?” You ask a bit calmer as you braid simple dandelions to pop against the forget me nots.
Silence softly settles and mixes in with the rush of the river.
“You mean…no one’s told you?”
Gojo’s voice is a soft but stunned whisper that steals your attention back to him. You now are frustrated you can’t see his eyes, can’t see the emotion in them.
“Told me what?” You frown.
The lord of the underworld stays quiet. He tilts his head towards your lap.
“The color of those flowers are lovely.” He says simply and even with a touch of awe.
Indignation rises in you, a heated over spilling boil and you snap. “What did you all discuss!?”
Then it hits you. You just flat out demanded so fiercely to the ruler of the underworld.
“I apologize-”
“No,” Blindfold or not his attention is fully directed towards you now. “Don’t apologize. You deserve to feel frustrated. Believe me I would be too.”
You exhale shakily.
“There's been more talk about your place among the others.” Gojo tells you simply. “Arranged marriage is being thrown around.”
Your heart sinks fast.
“I should have known.” You sigh as you rapidly return back to looking at your flowers. Slowly vines start to grow against your ankles. Your powers react to your emotions, and now the sensation of feeling tired manifests itself.
“Everyone thinks I’m just my mother's offspring,” you snap mainly to yourself. “Or that I’m only here to be someone’s marriage partner, but I’m not.”
The vines start to prickle against your skin. When you glance down so many have already grown across your legs.
“Who are you then? And who do you want to be?” Gojo’s words are so soft, casual and almost friendly.
The question even seems like one of your nymph companions would have asked you. Except Gojo’s directed unflinching attention almost makes you fidget.
“I…” you don’t even know how to answer. Even as you try to gather a reasonable one, the words feel chained in your throat.
You instead sigh and return to braiding.
Eventually the words come out, more of a whisper than anything.
“I’m me…that’s all. And I want to continue just being me.”
It probably made no sense, maybe even sounded awfully simplified at all to the god who watched over the dead. But the words held heavy truth in your heart.
You might not fully know who you truly are, but the choice to figure it out, to grow and simply make decisions for yourself, is all you wanted. You don’t want to be a simplified extension of your mother or a piece to use in a marriage arrangement.
After braiding in another daffodil stem, you notice the king beside you has gone quiet.
When you turn to the side you discover the god of the underworld is gone.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧
Something dances in the air, an unknown sensation that tingles and crawls against your skin. It feels like a warning you can’t fully describe.
When you try to press your mother about the meeting she avoids the conversation completely. It causes enough anger to rise so quickly in you that thorned roses pierce your hands. Then, one morning she arrives at your side with the heaviest expression.
“Mother, please tell me, what is happening?” You try asking as earnestly as you can.
Your mother, with her emotional turbulent eyes like a brewing storm, instead walks over to you and tenderly holds you in her arms.
“Know everything I do, I do for you.” Then she vanishes.
You swallow back a frustrated scream and instead furiously stomp away to your spot by the river stream.
Thankfully none of the tree or forest nymphs come near you. They must sense your frustration or see the prickly cacti slowly starting to sprout around you like a safely sharp fortress.
“Did you finish my flower crown, petals?”
A twinkling voice comes swift. It galvanizes your body as you scramble up fast to whip around.
There behind you, with an amused ease, stands the king of the netherworld. At the sight of him, the cacti plants bloom wild and bright buds.
“I like the color of these.” Gojo smriks nudging his face towards them.
“What are you doing here?” You whisper.
“I’m sorry, petals, don’t have much time.” Gojo frowns and then squares up firmly. It stuns you at how broad and striking he looks, a black ink stain against the picaresque forest landscape that has you captivated.
His face is somber, a true image of a composed ruler.
“The others made a decision. You’re going to be married off to another young immortal. But… your mother is coming to get you. She plans to keep you locked away. Made a whole scene about it.”
The words pierce your heart, piece your lungs and maybe your very soul as you choke on an exhale.
Blinking away tears, you stare at the king.
“Why are you telling me this?” Your voice cracks.
“Because I believed you deserved to know, and that you deserved a choice.” Gojo answers but in its simplicity you find absolute comfort.
“So here are your choices…” Gojo continues and the scenarios flash a vivid picture in your head.
You can let your mother whisk you away and keep you locked by her side forever. Or you can let the lord of the sky decree all powerful and place you in a marriage with someone you don't even know.
“Or…” Gojo’s voice now dances optimistic and light.
“You can come back with me.”
The offer hits you with the force of a landslide. You sputter out nonsense, unable to process what you just heard.
Gojo decides to clarify himself.
“Come back with me.” He beams. “No one will know where you went. You’ll get to lay low for a while, maybe figure out what you want to do. You wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”
“And, best part of all? You get to enjoy as much time as you’d like with me.” Gojo sounds absolutely ecstatic at the idea.
Spending time with him and in the underworld however sounds like a terrifying punishment. Just the thought of the underworld itself draws a haunting dread. Would you be safe there? Could you even last long among the cold dreary depths?
The wind blows fluttering leaves around you. The strange sensation you sensed in the air arrives thicker and now the wind swirls like a warning. This time it urges you of your mother fast approaching with the fate tied with her.
Surprisingly, the lord of the underworld waits so patiently silent. Then, a cocky smirk twitches his lips, a silent challenge almost as if to say he might know your answer.
Your answer comes in three simple steps. Before you are even fully by his side, you blink and disappear from the surface.
In the forest, all that remains of you are the cacti now completely covered in glorious colorful blooms.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧
The underworld is a crystal dream.
When you first thought of the realm of the dead your mind conjured up a dreary desolate wasteland, one filled with anguish and wailing, dark hallowed hallways lined with skeletons. Instead gem lined caverns greet you wherever you go.
A solemn gloom however faintly hangs in the air and could not be ignored. You spot multiple shades, souls of those who have passed, wandering towards the different rivers or simply fading in and out at the edge of the castle. Death did soak this land. From a distance the looming light of Tartarus solidifies that haunting realization. The blood soaked fire orb flickered a chilling reminder of the dangers this realm posed.
“How long will I be here?” You had asked.
“As long as you want.” Gojo chirped. “You can leave whenever you want. Can take all the time you need to figure out what you want to do.”
It was warm and heartfelt. However…
“There are only two rules I need you to follow.” Gojo had added ominously and shattered the warm welcome. The rules were simple.
Never go to Tartarus.
And never eat anything from this world.
Simple, but the ominous directness sparks your mind to wonder about what terrors really did lurk here. Besides those two warnings, Gojo welcomes you with grand excitement into his grand home.
That first night you arrived he practically bounced with every step as he showed you around the kingdom. You were so worried the sight of this world would scare you. Instead elation and even a tinge of appreciation blooms in you. You had never once imagined in your lifetime that you’d ever see this. A new appreciation emerges for this place that would be housing you until you figured out your path.
Gojo also introduced you to the two other immortals living within the halls of the underworld.
Shoko, the goddess of death, who with her stunning features and dreary eyes smiles so kind whenever she sees you.
Then there was Utahime, the goddess of magic, of spells and the crossroads.
“I hope you will enjoy your time here. The underworld has a special way of… revealing to us our true selves.” She had told you sagely. You enjoy browsing her vast collection of scrolls and you eagerly listen to any tales she shares with you.
Even during the times you spend with her or Shoko, the king of the underworld quickly arrives to your side like a persistent gnat.
You decide to take strolls along the charcoal sand riverside, a familiar tradition you did on the surface. Gojo accompanies you any chance he can.
He’s a curious creature and asks you a range of questions. What do you love most about the surface? What do you dream of? What color do you associate with yourself? You answer them all and then some. You tell him about the nymphs, your friends, about the days you used to grow sunflowers so big they would rival trees.
He snickers, makes playful commentary, but listens with full rapture. His attempt to know you better has you grudgingly slowing easing into his presence.
As much as you enjoy the time spent along the riverside, it doesn’t compare to your favorite place in the entire underworld.
The Elysian Fields stole your breath away the moment you first saw them. You never believed anything organic could grow in a realm meant to harness and hold the dead. Yet the fields stretched before you in wonderful waves of green, of color, of life.
It’s why you spend so much time here.
Among the grass and the trees, your mind can freely wander. Your mother must be upset. You could only imagine the pain she must be going through not knowing where you are. But frustration quickly leaks in remembering if you did return to the surface, what life could you be able to find there?
You dig your feet into the lush grass and try not to let poisonous annoyance overwhelm you.
“You look lost in thought.”
Gojo’s voice flutters in. Then his shadow falls over you. You don’t even have to glance your head up because the king of the underworld casually sits down beside you.
“Haven’t figured anything out yet huh?” He asks and you shake your head a quiet no.
“That’s okay. There’s no need to feel pressured or get upset about it. It’s a big decision, trying to figure out what path you want your life to take.”
You never expected him to be this comforting.
“Besides, it’s not often I get visitors here. So I’m enjoying your company as long as I can, petals.” A grin spreads across Gojo’s face as wide as a sunrise.
All you can do is yank up some of the grass and playfully throw it at him.
He laughs a bright snicker but you notice something very quickly. The grass never fully hits him. The slight distortion peaks your curiosity and you go to do it again.
“If this is your form of attack then I can only imagine how terrifying you’d be in battle.” Gojo teases but you pay him no mind because the grass again does nothing. It falls short from hitting him as if he’s protected by something.
Completely ignoring his comment, you ask him about the strange occurrence.
You appreciate how comfortable you’ve become here and with the god of the underworld to now ask such questions. The king’s lips twitch.
“What exactly have you heard about me?”
A strange question but one with a layered answer. Simply put, he’s the ruler of the underworld, considered the strongest of all the immortals.
When your mother had told you stories of the titan war, she never failed to mention the power the ruler of the netherworld held. And there is one image tied to him you remembered vividly.
“A helmet, I heard you wrote a helm that gave you immense power.”
The entire time here your mind has thought too much about the helm. You wondered what it looked like. What was more dangerous though was the curiosity, the desire, to see what he would look like wearing it.
Gojo’s face blooms with a toothy smile.
“It’s…not technically a helmet.”
Then the god playfully points at the blindfold across his eyes.
The grand helm has been in front of you this entire time and you didn’t even know. Of course he wore it constantly.
“That’s incredible.” You can’t help but fully admire the black cloth now. To think something as simple as this cloth was so strong to be considered a war helmet, it amazes you.
“I heard it made you invisible though. I remember asking about it!” You blurt out. That was another legend you heard about from a few of the nymphs.
“Oh? So you’ve asked about me, petals?” Gojo smirks slyly and your face heats up. Carnations rapidly blooming start to tickle your ankles and you immediately squish them.
“You know, I’ve always wondered where that rumor came from.” He hums, thoughtfully. “But no. I don’t have powers of invisibility. Instead I have something way more impressive.”
Pride swiftly leaks into his voice and flourishes more when his chest visibly puffs up. The vivid image of a colorful squawking peacock flashes in your mind and you almost snicker until Gojo raises his hand up.
“Hold your hand out for me please.” His voice drops lower and the tone jolts your heart. You wearily lift your hand up.
Gojo presses his hand against yours. Your heart beats faster, rivaling a humming bird’s wings, and you wait for the impact.
It comes. However, Gojo’s hand applies no actual pressure. You don’t touch his skin or brush against his fingers. Instead only liminal space floats between. The barrier can’t be more than a hair width away yet feels as if it’s oceans wide.
“What is it?” You ask breathless and intrigued.
“Infinity.”
Gojo explains how the helm, his powers, rely on the eternal force that is infinity. Everything repeats. Everything can be continued into an unbreakable cycle, the purest form of infinity.
“And what is more infinite than death? Even universes are born and die.” He speaks with an ancient patience. But, you swear you catch an underlying sadness in his voice just out of your reach. Or maybe it is just your own sadness that you were facing as you realized the weight upon Gojo’s shoulders.
He exists as the personified infinity of death’s cycle continuing over and over again and someone must watch over it. He is unable to step free from that cycle because he is it.
“You look so sad, petals. What? Am I boring you?” Suddenly Gojo’s jovial voice shatters your thoughts.
The black cloth hiding his eyes holds more weight than it did moments before.
Then you notice none has pulled their hands away, neither your or him. No one makes an attempt to move even now. You simply sit there with the space of infinity resting solid, unwavering, against you and Gojo just out of reach.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧
In the underworld, monotony can creep in easily. You find even after browsing all of Lady Utahime’s interesting collection of spells and curses, you grow restless.
“If you ever get bored,” Gojo previously told you. “You’re more than welcome to join me in the throne room.”
You had only seen the throne room during the first grand tour Gojo took you on. Now you stare at the throne room’s grand doors petrified to even open them.
“Why don’t you go inside? He would enjoy your company.”
Shoko’s calm sweet voice makes you almost bolt like a skittish deer. Caught red handed and the goddess of death sleepily smiles.
“Oh no. I couldn’t!” You sputter out.
For some reason, the thought of seeing Gojo on his throne, in his role as king of the underworld flickers something hot to boil under your skin. Shoko’s curious gaze burns a hole in the side of your face.
The goddess gives you a soft nod then continues her walk down the hallway.
“You know, there’s a hidden alcove above the throne room that can be accessed from the stairs…just a thought.” Shoko muses aloud glancing over her shoulder with twinkling amused eyes. Then the goddess turns a corner and leaves you alone with her words rattling in your brain.
Were you going to watch Gojo from the shadows?
Before you could even rationalize your thoughts you move quietly up the stairs until you reach your destination.
The alcove is a type of balcony obscured by the columns towering in the throne room. The view from high up grants you a wonderful sight of the entire room composed of marble and crystal. Instead of the imposing grand ruler you imagined sitting regally composed on his throne, the white haired god is sprawled half lying across the large throne. For some reason you’re reminded of a lounging lethargic cat and you bite your cheek from laughing.
Gojo stays reclining for some time. Eventually he does pull a scroll out from beside his throne and glances it over. At first you thought he appeared bored. But now as he sighs and flops to the other side of the throne childishly, you now think -
He looks lonely.
Even among the walls gleaming of the riches soaked in this realm, this incredibly boisterous immortal seems lonely. You even notice a hollow air rests in the room and reminds you of a day in winter when the earth seems frozen.
Then a giggle comes.
You wonder if maybe you misheard it. That is until a child quickly peeks from behind a column. The little girl pops out a bit more before returning to hiding.
Very quickly she scurries to a column closer to the throne.
Your eyes flicker to Gojo who continues overlooking the scroll on his lap.
The girl begins to tip toe closer and closer to the throne. You now wonder how the king will react. She seems gleeful, unafraid of him. Especially as she approaches with the proudest toothy grin on her sweet face.
Then Gojo whips around to her.
“GOT YOU!” He shrieks proudly and even points at her accusingly. She jumps like a scared little rabbit until she hunches over laughing. Her joy fills the throne room with so much warmth you find yourself smiling at the interaction.
“I got closer this time!” The girl stomps pouting and her face puffs up adorably.
“You did! I have to give you credit for that Rika.” Gojo addresses the girl with a delighted friendliness.
“I’ll get you next time!” The girl, Rika, announces sternly as her face furrows determined.
“I believe you.” Gojo nods and you even believe him.
The girl narrows her eyes harder at the king but then she quickly giggles.
“Why don’t you go back and play in the fields, Rika? It's much nicer than playing around here in this boring place. Trust me I don’t even enjoy being here sometimes.”
They both share a giggle and Rika beams up at him so kindly.
A molten smile draws over Gojo’s face and your heart melts. Softness, gentless, looks wonderful, beautiful even, on his handsome features.
“Alright you little pest, head back to the fields you go.” He playfully shoo’s Rika away with a dismissive wave and she sticks her tongue out at him.
Turning on her heels, you watch Rika slowly fade into the air. A sadness settles over you knowing this young girl passed away so young. But, it comforts you seeing how joyous and bubbly she is even in the afterlife.
Then, it slowly dawns on you.
The lord of the underworld is not the terrifying monster whispered to be. He is a silly terror, a bit eccentric, but a kind man.
Your eyes glaze over staring at nothing in particular and you decide to leave as well.
As you rise from your little secret perch a shadow looms across you. Glancing up, the lord of the underworld towers grins down disgustingly victorious.
“Well now, aren’t you just the sneakiest little weed I’ve ever seen!”
His comment pulls an indignant shriek out of you as you scramble up. Your face is on fire and you storm away in fast rapid stomps.
Gojo follows fast behind laughing so loud it bounces off the walls and echoes among the throne room.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧
Days come when tears sting your eyes thinking about the surface. You do miss your mother.
You miss the feeling of the sun on your face, the breeze of autumn fluttering in for the change of the season. You can’t even remember how many days have passed since your arrival in the underworld.
But even thinking about returning to the surface terrifies you stiff. It makes your stomach turn because you know your answer to what lies above.
You don’t want to be in an arranged marriage and you don’t want to be locked to your mother’s side. There was no middle way, or other option between these two.
You stay in your room for a few days, wiping away the tears.
Eventually out of your clouded haze a soft knock arrives at your door.
Gojo waits on the other side. You don’t like how effortlessly your heart jumps seeing his tall stature leaning against the door, a striking ink stain with his black robes. His lips are a small but sad crooked grin.
“Can I show you something?”
You wordlessly nod and follow his lead. He doesn’t press you about your sudden cloistering. He doesn’t try filling the space with talk. You’re grateful in the silence that he understands.
Through different corridors of the castle this area feels unfamiliar and a spark of curiosity flickers in you. Then Gojo stops.
There in the shade of the hallways, a secluded large square open area is before your eyes. The area seems out of place carved out from the marble and gem walkways
“What is it?” You feel a bit foolish asking.
Gojo grins wide beside you. “Why don’t you go and find out?”
You give him an incredulous and worried look. This could be a playful trick. Utahime had warned you how notorious the lord of the underworld was at playing surprise tricks which included hiding behind corners to scare anyone passing by.
“I promise, you’ll like it.” Gojo however reassures you with a gentle earnestness. So with a sigh you walk and step into the patch.
Beneath you is actual soil. It’s soft, smells of comfort and you can’t help it, a watery laugh escapes you. How long has it been since you felt the earth above?
Even since you visited the Elysian Fields, you discovered an ominous truth about your favorite spot.
“Nothing can grow there.” Utahime told you sadly. “While everything is lush and beautiful and cannot die. However, nothing can grow as well.”
But you remembered the carnations. You knew they bloomed when you were there and you revealed that to Utahime.
Her lovely face scrunched up in wise thought and her eyes became distant.
“Unfortunately it could have just been a simple fluke. The Elysian Fields are meant to be a place of peace. Maybe it was trying to comfort you as well… let you feel some sort of semblance of the surface world.”
The thought was comforting but also carried an ocean abyss of sadness. Understanding nothing could grow here in this world made sense.
But now you sat on solid soil, true soil from above.
You scramble to your knees and can’t help but dig your hands through it. The cushiony familiar texture, the smell that has been with you since you were a sapling. Tears threaten to cloud your vision.
Turning around, Gojo is there leaning against the hallway’s frame and beaming bright like a marigold.
“How?!” You ask breathlessly, unable to still process this.
“I have my ways.” Gojo coyly replies. More questions only rise in you but you quietly set them aside.
“Utahime said nothing could grow here.”
“Hm…that is true. But, why not give it a try?” Curiosity oozes out of him.
So you decide, why not. With your hands in the soil you inhale and the magic in your veins flickers to life.
You clutch the dirt tight in your grasp as if trying to hang on to this last sense of who you are.
Out of the earth. a small green sprout suddenly peeks out.
Absolute excitement and giddiness unfolds in you like a wild hurricane. You can’t help but snap your face back to Gojo in pure joy.
A wide open and even a bit proud smile illuminates his handsome face.
“Well look at you, petals! Nice work. Although I was expecting a tree or something, that little thing is nice I guess!”
You playfully throw a handful of dirt at him. It’s childish but it’s the only way you can fight the fondness growing in you, a festering weed you don’t know if you want to eradicate.
Gojo breaks out in amused cackles. His cheeks puff up and you can almost sense the amusement in his covered eyes.
“I’ll let you enjoy.” He pushes off the hallway frame and is about to turn around when you quickly call to him
“Wait.”
He freezes and glances over his shoulder.
You have to ask. “Why did you do this?”
Now the god of the underworld fully turns his attention back to you.
“Do what?”
You sigh exhausted at his innocently coy reply.
“Why did you do this? Give me this plot of land?”
Gojo’s lips, which you have been alarmingly thinking about more, turn into an eased crooked smile.
“It’s a gift. You’re my guest here and my friend. So why not?” He replies anticlimactic, even shrugs.
The answer is not satisfying and it slightly irritates you. But you’re still grateful. You might not know the true reason why he did this and might not ever know. But Gojo still did this for you all the same.
So gathering that gratitude you smile at him, a true earnest one.
“Whatever the reason is…Thank you, Gojo.”
This is the first time you say his name. Just the taste of it in your mouth leaves a strange tingle.
The ruler of the underworld’s face. It drops so fast that you barely catch it. But it was there. A look of pure surprise, confusion and something else you can not pinpoint. But all of that quickly vanished only to be replaced by a smile radiating artificiality. Then Gojo vanishes.
In this new space, you exhale against the new weight building in your chest. Leaves then begin tickling your hands and you glance down at your new blooms.
Pure confusion strikes because this is actually a brand new bloom.
You’ve never seen this flower before.
Delicate cotton white star-like flowers greet you and you’re afraid to even touch them. So many of them cluster around each other in rather tall stalks. They remind you of lilies in their shape but are smaller and have a fragility to their thin petals.
You stare at the blooms slowly filling out the area around you until you are completely surrounded.
Horror strikes you fast.
The cloudy white petals match the white hair of the lord of the underworld.
Unknown to you, as you sit frozen among your new flowers, wheat fields decay above on the surface.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧
As much of a king and ruler he is, boredom plagues Gojo most of the time. It doesn’t surprise you one bit.
He pesters you constantly in your garden now. Currently you threaten to grow Venus fly traps large enough to eat him.
“You know, I’d actually be interested to see that.” He muses light and you hate that the thought of creating such a thing has you curious as well.
Gojo and you exchange a glance. Soon enough a large Venus fly trap stands around the same height as the god.
“It’s huge!” He cries impressively and pride flutters through your chest.
Then the underworld's king sticks his whole head inside the opening mouth of the Venus flytrap and waves his hands with the brightest expression.
You scream in panic and Gojo cackles beyond entertained. He thankfully removes his head. It’s perfect timing as the plant’s prickly mouth snaps itself shut.
You are horrified but Gojo just continues to laugh.
He opens the plant’s mouth and starts moving it. Changing his voice to a high pitched tone, he begins talking as if he’s the plant itself in some sort of bizarre performance.
“I beg your garden?!” He shrieks in an absurd voice.
It’s ridiculous, unbelievable and you can’t help it. You burst into wild giggles that shake your body. You have laughed more in his company than you can even remember. You’re having true fun with him in a way that you can’t even remember experiencing with your old companions.
You remember previously noticing how lonely the god of death looked and it only made you wonder how you’ve also tasted loneliness. Always stuck to your mother’s side, living in her shadow, it grew lonely there.
“Don’t laugh at me! Just wanna have fun, be-leaf me!” Gojo continues in that shrill tone.
Now here you are laughing in pure fun at his antics.
Gojo quickly drops the performance and immediately asks you to make a lotus as small as a clover. It’s tricky but when the flower unfurls a tiny lovely blossom in the palm of your hand, Gojo cheers.
Then you start thinking of jacaranda trees the size of bonsai. With a furrowed concentration you form a beautiful miniature tree. The lovely violet blooms even so small color the area exquisitely.
“You’re incredible.” He breathes out the words and they almost sound in awe.
You try not to get flustered but it is hard with his attention so intently focused on you. Instead you wave your hand out. Playfully a bunch of cherry blossoms nearby rapidly swirl in a whirlwind of petals all around him
Gojo shouts an amused ecstatic cheer, flinging his hands up among the petals. You snicker even more.
It becomes a game. Gojo offers new plant ideas or to grow vegetation he never knew existed. His face genuinely scrunches up at the odd smelling plants you call forth and you snicker pleased at his reactions.
Eventually you take a seat and start to make a few flower crowns. One particularly is for the young girl you saw in the throne room, Rika, and who you’ve caught now a few times peeking at you from around the palace columns.
No surprise but the lord of the underworld takes a seat right by your side.
“A flower crown huh… You know, you never made the one I asked for when we first met.” He comments with the worst pout.
Of course he remembers that. You had even forgotten about that meeting by the riverbank.
You scan around looking for something to use until you spot the perfect crown.
Reaching to a nearby shrub, you break off a bare small twig. You regally place it on top of Gojo’s head.
“Aw!” His deflated reaction, seeing this powerful god with a simple twig on his head, has you snickering. Then you realize Gojo stopped his infinity barrier for you to place it on him.
You don’t even want to linger on that thought. So violently shoving it away, you continue braiding the flowers. You concentrate hard, even scrunch your face as you weave in lily stems.
A delicate but soft crawling sensation suddenly dances across your leg. The culprit is a branch from a leatherleaf fern Gojo has plucked. You wiggle away in a panic.
He again drags the delicate green leaves to playfully tickle you and try squirming away from him as much as you can. An urge to even hiss at him rises.
“What?! Are you ticklish, petals!?” Gojo beams with excitement.
“No, you’re just annoying!” You reply sharply trying to stay calm.
The king however is patient and stubborn. Instead of relenting he wiggles the fern’s large leaves firmer across your arms then to your shoulder where it meets your neck.
You squeal, laughing so unattractive as you wiggle away with all your might to flee from his playful torment. You can’t even chide him to stop, too caught up in the wild infectious giddiness taking over.
Your body buckles under the ministrations very slowly until your back rests on the solid soil ground. Your eyes snap open.
There, the god of the underworld leans over you.
Gojo is handsome. You knew that from the first moment you saw him. But now you take in how wide his shoulders are, how celestially white his hair glows, and how compromising, as well as dangerous, this position is.
Your mind had started drifting more and more towards deeply temptatious thoughts of him. Thinking of how your hands would grasp his broad shoulders, wondering how his body without any barriers would feel pressed over you.
A dizzying fire licks through your veins. Gojo finally stops his tickling bombardment and now stares down at you. Even without seeing his eyes they pierce you with a hypnotic pull.
A moment passes or maybe a millennial has. Time ticks by too molten to process.
You want him. You hate how badly you want this infuriating man. You hate thinking about how easy it would be to lean up and kiss him. As tempting as that idea is, how much it consumes you, you remember a heavy truth. If your lips leaned up to kiss him you would only find infinity.
Before anything else can be said or done you rapidly spring up from the soil like a new bud. You say nothing. Neither does Gojo. Quickly you return to braiding your poor discarded flower crown. He remains quiet long enough you wonder if maybe he left your side quietly.
Until the ground shifts besides you as Gojo moves to stand.
“Don’t let the plants eat you, petals. You wouldn’t make good fertilizer.”
You can’t even find a quick retort to shoot back at him.
When you reach for a few roses to add their lovely color to the floral wreath, you wince. A sharp prickling sensation stabs your fingers.
Drawing your hand back you see your golden blood, the ichor of an immortal, dripping down your fingers.
Suddenly an image flashes wild and frantic in your mind.
Gojo appearing before you suddenly. He inspects your wounded hand. Instead of applying a wrap or even allowing you to heal with time as all immortals can, he delicately places your bleeding fingers into his mouth. He sucks on them gently and fierce. His tongue swipes against your wound, against the blood. He moans, loud, debauched, and it mixes with the wet slurps. He sucks and sucks without any desire to stop. His tongue fondly runs up again along your fingers. The pressure of his mouth, the warmth of it, letting yourself bravely trace his teeth, then feeling him playfully bite your skin…
You scramble out of your thoughts as a slick liquid heat pools between your legs. Grabbing your flower crown, you storm off to your room praying to flee from the god of the underworld haunting you.
But you know it is hard, almost impossible, to outrun and hide from a god.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧
“I have to leave for a few days.” Gojo explains as he sits besides you in the garden.
The garden has now become a lush oasis for you. Various ferns happily grow to one side. A few fruit trees already take root and grow steadily. So many flowers sprinkle beautiful clusters of colors all across the space.
Of course your new white flowers continue to bloom patiently and delicately. Wherever you turn, so many seem to pop up. It's to the point even Gojo made a comment upon seeing the new florals.
“Oh? These look new.” You ignored his curious comment.
Now you ask about his trip with the same curiosity.
“Leaving? What for?”
A pause comes.
“Unfortunately there’s been a recent increase in the amount of newcomers arriving in our realm.”
You don’t miss the way your heart jumps hearing him say “our realm.” The main issue at hand however has you concerned.
“Do you think it’s a sudden war? Or a natural catastrophe?” Your heart twists thinking about either terrible possibility.
“Don’t know. That’s why I’m heading up to figure it out.” Gojo sighs.
You nod understandingly and sympathetically to Gojo. Even with his eyes covered, his gaze seems to stare somewhere far away. Then he quickly averts his attention to the budding trees you’re tending to.
“This one seems to be doing great here.” Gojo notes curiously. He leans closer to you, a pressure softly pushing against you. Any giddiness of having him so close is quieted by the truth that it’s infinity against you.
“It is.” You agree happily. “Pomegranate trees are resilient. They just need the right soil and can bloom with much worry. They even can handle different types of pests.”
Gojo hums a curious thing.
“Sounds a little familiar, don’t you think?” He comments but his voice is deep, low. Hearing his tone this way sparks a dangerous desire to life and it drags its claws down your spine.
“Familiar how?” You hesitantly ask.
Something gentle, barely with the lightest of pressures, runs across the back of your hand. You think it might be his fingertips. Your body reacts, galvanized in a frenzy. But when you whip your head to the side, the king is gone.
As you sit alone in your garden, you almost scream.
When the time comes to bid Gojo farewell, you now wonder how you’ll handle truly being alone without him.
“Don’t miss me too much, petals.” He teases and you roll your eyes.
“Please, I’m going to enjoy having this place all to myself.” You scoff.
Gojo grins like a cat that’s caught a canary and then, he leaves without another word.
In his absence you find, at first, you do enjoy the peaceful solitude. But that gets old quickly because stars above you do end up missing him.
You didn’t realize how much your existence here has now become so entrenched with Gojo’s. You miss the strolls you and him take. You miss his questions about the new blossoms growing. You even miss the way he playfully throws figs at you at dinner while you sit not eating a single bite. It has become not just a friendship with the underworld’s god but a true deep bond with him.
“Can you stop with the wistful sighing please?” Utahime sternly asks as you lounge in her study.
“I’m not wistfully sighing!” You stammer out embarassed.
“Uh huh.” She does not seem convinced but also does not press the subject further. The goddess of magic instead stays completely focused on her piles of scrolls scattering her area.
The underworld seemed to be slowly constricting around itself. A tension tightened the air. Everyone, even Shoko, seemed scarce and occupied. Whatever was occurring above on the surface was greatly impacting this world.
You decide to leave Utahime to her devices and slip away quietly.
Now you wander the edge of the royal grounds. Your eyes scan the realm stretching out before you. There, like a lantern among the darkness, the fluttering flickering red light of Tartarus shines unwavering.
It is the last place that you have yet explored.
You remember Gojo’s rule, his warning about not going to it
However, a small twinkle inside you even feels as if it’s being drawn there by a soft gentle pull.
You could just walk and see it from the outside, not even enter its gates. No harm would come from just inspecting the grand prison from a closer distance right?
Before you can stop yourself your feet guide you across the river’s path to the other side.
The atmosphere distorts into something sinister like the way the air hollows out before a terrifying storm.
Soon the crystalized rocks become jagged spikes. A smell of sulfur fills your senses and a wave of heat begins to tickle your skin. Soon the glowing red is now a vibrant bleeding sun before your eyes.
You dare not step any closer.
Terror slowly claws over your body. This is as close as you will get and will ever get. You turn around to walk back.
“…Little flower…” a soft raspy voice sends a horrifying chill up your back.
Your head snaps to the side. A creature unravels from the bottom of a rock and stares up at you with tree branches like eyes.
A cursed soul.
Something now besides the creature wiggles from the ground. It morphs and shifts from a clay like structure to take the shape of man. He reminds you of a patch quilt and his body screams that he too is another cursed soul.
“You are far away from home, little goddess.” The curse coos.
You can’t even speak as fear chokes your throat.
Move, you have to move! Something inside you screams. It sounds almost like Gojo.
Before you can move, hands, or maybe branches of some sorts, suddenly snap around your legs and yank you back. A scream escapes you or maybe you believe you hear a scream.
Everything happens fast. Your body is dragged and pulled closer to the prison. Laughter cackles sinisterly all around you and you thrash as much as you can. Tears clog your eyes. You wonder if this is it, if this will be how your end greets you. You swat at anything you can reach, but the panic is rising more and more.
Then a blinding heat sears under your palms.
You can’t help it, your eyes squeeze shut and your hands feel as if they have exploded.
Then the pressure is gone from across your body. Your eyes, water soaked with tears,
Your eyes open and you find you are free. No more decayed limbs and branches on your body.
You scramble up as best as you can. Your legs however give out from the amount of wounds sliced across you. You try to heal as quickly as you can but being around such sinister evil for so long has drained you.
Suddenly something rushes besides you and you are too late to react. The patchwork creature jumps on you. With a gleeful monstrous smile he morphs into like a cage claw against your body and has you in his grasp.
You scream but you can’t even hear it over the horrifying laughter. You thrash, try to free yourself again, but your body grows too exhausted to even move. Your vision begins blurring.
Then another scream of anguish comes but you can’t even process what or who it is.
Your body is released. You pitch forward, unable to hold yourself up anymore. Then someone catches you.
“Petals.” Gojo’s voice rings panicked in your ears. You wonder if he is a figment of your imagination. Before you can even focus, your vision gives out and you fade into oblivion.
The next thing you know, you wake up in the comfort of the softest sheets and a place that is not your quarters.
When you come into consciousness and see the grandness of the room, the dark shade of the walls, you piece together quickly this is Gojo’s bedchamber.
A new type of panic grips your heart and you scramble up.
“Careful, careful!” Suddenly the man himself reprimands you in a quick panic. Gojo sits up from his chair beside the bed. Whatever emotion lies in your eyes freezes him from approaching you.
“What happened?” You ask in a small whisper. You wonder if it was all a nightmare, a terror fueled fever dream.
“I found you in Tartarus.” Gojo replies. This is the first time his voice has sounded this upset. His face darts away from you.
“What were you thinking? What were you even doing there?” His voice is sharp as a blade’s edge and it cuts you swiftly.
Your reason now sounds so childish.
There have been multiple times when you rolled your eyes at Gojo’s antics. You believed him to be a fool, a childish king who has not grown up, a result of being alone for so long here in this realm. But now you wonder if you are the foolish one.
You croak out an apology that rips your heart open. Squeezing your eyes shut you try to stop the tears from coming but it’s no use.
“I just…I just wanted to see. It was…it was something you wouldn’t understand. I’m sorry.” You apologize again. A poisonous frustration and anger at yourself for being so foolish fills you. If you had only listened.
Suddenly a hand rests gently on top of yours. No barrier, no infinity. Just Gojo’s soft larger hand enfolding yours. It’s warmer than you expected.
Gojo does not yell, doesn’t even say anything else. He simply sits besides you staring so concerned but understandingly. You squeeze his hand and more tears form rivers down your face.
The underworld’s king stays by your side the entire time.
Right before you fall asleep, still in the king’s bedchamber, you swear the most delicate and tender touch runs across your face.
Once you are healed Gojo, holding your hand, takes you back to Tartarus.
“I should have showed this place before.” He explains quietly. “I could have only imagined your curiosity.”
You try to focus on his voice but it is hard when you try to process what lies before you.
“Wait…Are you sure we’re at Tartarus?”
“Uh…yes?” Gojo replies a bit confused but you are more confused than he is. Because there is no possible way this could be the same place.
The same burning furious fiery glow is now a simple flicker of a flame like a dwindling candle. All the rocks and sharp spikes have been crushed and leveled into debris cluttering the whole area. The air even holds a haunting stillness. This reminds you of a forest after a fire, a quiet entombment that spoke of a tremendous fury. Did he do this?
You realize as much as you want to know, you want to leave even more.
A squeeze of your hand is all you have to say before Gojo squeezes back. In a blink you and him are back at the palace’s main atrium. But a quest stands there waiting.
“Ijichi!” Gojo cries bright and happily.
Your eyes go wide.
The messenger of the gods. You had seen him in passing and even then you found him to be an uptight god. Now his face is hardened and upset. His keen eyes spot you and his mouth drops.
Ijichi cries your name and something inside you falls.
“What brings you here Ijichi?” Gojo asks with a twinkling curiosity.
“You know exactly why I’m here Gojo!” The messenger snaps and a part of you wants to shrink away. But, another piece of you knows you can’t run anymore.
You know why the messenger is here.
“I need to speak with you.” Ijichi urges with pleading eyes staring so intensely at you.
Reality weighs you down. You have to address this. You cannot keep hiding anymore.
So you let go of Gojo’s hand and you and Ijichi move to a private room.
You sit down ready to hear about your mother, about the urgency that you need to return to the surface world and face your fate.
But what comes to you instead plummets your entire soul. With a gentle but stern kindness tells you all that is happening.
Horror, dread, and all of their friends, fill your body.
The surface world is dying. Famine plagued the fields. Livestock is suffering. People are suffering.
All because of your actions.
Ijichi, bless him, is not accusatory, does not shame you or put blame.
“You need to return home with me. I’m sorry.” The messenger urges but sympathy seeps out.
You don’t hesitate to nod yes as tears come in tidal waves.
There is not much to take with you. You say farewell to your garden, to the beautiful palace, to Utahime and Shoko who both hug you incredibly tight.
But when you go to say goodbye to the lord of this world, he is nowhere to be found.
You do not have to search long. He sits in his study. This the most you’ve ever seen him actually use it and look so dashingly studious, regal, at work. He completely ignores your entrance and does not even spare you a glance.
“I’m leaving.” You announce. He stays silent.
You swallow hard and compose yourself.
“Thank you so much for letting me stay here for as long as I have. You’ve been a wonderful host.”
A wonderful friend. A wonderful companion, and maybe something even more wonderful, so fond and dangerous, you dare not speak its name.
He stays quiet and you are about to walk out of the door when suddenly Gojo’s hand grabs yours in a rapid grip. Your heart trips over a skipped beat from feeling his true hand clutching yours.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He argues.
“I have to go back. I have to face this.” You urge even though your voice wavers waterlogged.
“You don’t have to. We can figure this out.”
He does not want you to go.
You even accept you don’t want to either. Not just because you fear the truth awaiting you, but because you’ve become terribly attached to this place, attached to him.
At first you wanted to laugh it off as simply being stuck here and left with no choice but to just tolerate the god of the underworld. Instead you found you sought Gojo on your own more and more. You wanted to know him, not as a ruler of the eternal realm of death but as the man you learned hates pickled radish and loves any type of sweet treat.
You swallow hard and shake your head.
“I can’t keep running away.” You even surprise yourself at how firm, how solid and unwavering, your voice resonates.
Gojo’s hand releases yours. The air brews tense and thick. Then the god of the underworld lifts his blindfold up.
Your heart stops.
Beautiful ocean blue eyes stare at you. Of course his eyes would be luminous pools.
You can’t speak, don’t know what to say.
“Satoru…” he instead speaks first. “That's my true and first name... Thought you should know it before you leave.”
The gift he is presenting to you is immense. No mortals know the true name of your kind. Even you are addressed by a secondary name so tightly tied with your mothers.
Now he is giving you this pure full piece of himself. His eyes, his name, his heart, all are pieces you tenderly lock away in your heart. They hold more precious value than any of the gems buried in this land.
Before you can even reply Gojo leans forward.
With the most delicate of pressure, he kisses your forehead. Your eyes water but now for another emotion too grand to process while you drown in its waves.
He whispers out and says your name, your pure true name. He’s never said it before.
Then he disappears.
You swallow back a deep sob and return back to the atrium.
Gojo is nowhere to be seen even when you head to the stairs that lead back to the surface.
Before you leave, Utahime gives you one final hug then discreetly slips something into your hand. It’s a simple cloth with a sigil on it. You had seen her work on these types of spells many times and knew they all had various uses.
“Should you ever need us again or want to return, just use this.” She whispers low in your ear.
You clutch it tight, like a lifeline. When you go to give one final glance back to the underworld, the king is missing. You can’t find him anywhere and heartache clogs your throat. So you turn your back to the darkness and step into the light of the surface.
The smell of the air hits you first. The crisp scent of the dying leaves arrives in the brisk breeze. A barren earth stretches out before you and you walk into the desolation to meet your fate.
The sky above is a clouded muted gray.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧
Your mother is furious, absolutely in a rage that would rival a tsunami. But thankfully with your return the earth flourishes overnight as if by a miracle. The lush green should be a comfort to you. The smell of the sunlight should elevate your spirit warm but instead you ache for the soft glow of the gemstone walls.
“You have two choices.” She tells you sternly. “Either marry the immortal chosen for you or stay here with me.”
You stay quiet and she snaps out your name, a part of you wants to laugh because it sounds like a curse.
“Answer me!” Your mother demands and you break.
“I dont want neither!” You cry back. “Can’t you see?! The reason I ran away to the actual place of death is because I cannot pick either! Because I don’t want to!”
“Could you truly be so selfish?!” Your mother accuses you with a seething venom.
Selfish. Were you being selfish?
You once discussed this with Gojo because you had wondered many times if you were simply being a selfish brat running away from your problems.
“I don’t think so.” He shrugged. “Isn’t it selfish of you mother to want to keep you beside her forever? Besides, if you are being selfish then who cares. Nobody realizes it’s actually okay to be somewhat selfish every once in a while, especially when you’re deciding what direction your life is going to take.”
His voice becomes a soothing balm to your frustration.
So you bare your soul and heart before your mother. You could never be happy being forced to wed another. Nor would you ever be satisfied staying stitched to your mother’s side. You need your freedom. You wanted and deserved to have your own choice away from those options.
Her eyes flicker a kaleidoscope of emotions. She thankfully lets you speak the entire time without interruptions. When you are done, she gently walks forward and embraces you. You squeeze her tight.
“I’m sorry, my little sprout.” She comforts you.
You exhale, relieved.
“That damn monster of the underworld,” she says with a steady anger. “He filled your brain with nonsense.”
She pulls away and your face falls in horror.
“Don’t worry. I already plan to discuss with Gakuganji a meaningful punishment for him.”
You cry out a plea to her. But she simply smiles and pats your cheek.
“You won’t have to worry about him or anything else ever again.” She affirms confidently
Your frustrated scream falls on an empty room as she leaves in the breeze of the wheat fields. Emotions bubble up in you so wildly that your head begins to throb.
The panic clouds your vision. What will happen to Gojo? Why couldn’t your mother listen to you? Then an idea quietly emerges among the chaos.
You remember the slip of cloth tucked away in the private corner of your chambers.
Before your mother could come back, before you can even fully think, you race to grab it. You trace your finger along the intricate ink and then close your eyes.
When you open them, you are in the underworld, back in your garden.
It is as lush and beautiful as the day you left it except now the trees have grown in beautifully. Their shady leaves flourish against the marble and crystal. Your eyes land on the lone tree standing so firmly among the others.
The pomegranate tree flowers happily in full bloom filled with a fruitful harvest.
You remember the discussion you had with Gojo over these trees. You spoke of how resilient they were, and he quietly offered how familiar that sounded. The beautiful reddish violet fruit you now pluck so effortlessly from the branches you recognize is you.
You grew and flourished, gained a new sense of yourself. You carved out an existence here and bloomed into a new life.
You act fast. With all your strength you smack the fruit against the bark of the tree. Thankfully it cracks open to reveal the glistening seeds inside.
A conversation you had with Gojo has been playing in your mind since you returned to the surface.
“Why can’t I eat anything here?” You asked the first time you joined him for dinner.
“As tempting as these cakes are,” he grins, taking a large bite out of the sugary sweet.
“Eating anything from here means…you’re pretty much stuck here forever, petals. And I don’t think a pretty bud yourself could handle that now could you?”
Those words echo more than ever as the pomegranate seeds stain your fingers.
You could handle it. In fact you want to embrace it. A life here, with Gojo. You knew the consequences awaiting you. A part of you even screams to stop.
But you instead scoop out a handful of seeds and swallow them swiftly.
Their juicy delightful nectar fills your mouth. If this is being selfish, you think it has never tasted sweeter. You wait thinking there would be a reaction to doing this, to stealing yourself to this world. The only thing that comes is someone breathing out your name.
You snap your face to the side. There Gojo stands completely frozen.
His blindfold is missing. The ruler of the underworld now stares at you with his bare wide cerulean eyes that rival a field of bluebonnets.
“Petals…” Confliction strangles his voice and his eyes flicker to the pomegranate in your hand.
“What are you doing here? What did you do?” You don’t think you have ever heard him sound this confused and panicked.
“Satoru.”
His name, it’s all you can say. It’s a prayer so beautiful you never want to stop saying it.
You blink and the king vanishes. Then he is before you. His hand clutches your face firm and he swoops down to kiss you.
You can’t help but whimper as your breath gets stolen from your lungs. You clutch onto the god tighter, desperate to get as close to him as you can.
Under your touch infinity disappears.
Satoru’s tongue slips effortlessly into your mouth and explores with a chaotic mess. You taste the same desperation he has mirroring your own.
He lifts you up effortlessly with one hand and it makes you squeak. Then, the two of you are whisked away.
When you arrive in his chambers a frantic edge is set ablaze as Satoru presses you against the cool wall of his room. He effortlessly grinds against you and another whimper leaves you to get caught against his lips.
You are drunk on the taste of him. You don’t even care how loud you pant because you are too afraid this moment could end at any moment.
Satoru starts to kiss the corner of your lips. He quirky nips sharp bites against your skin and your eyes close in bliss.
He kisses across your cheek, down your neck, alternating between kissing and softly biting.
Then cool air tickles your bare kiss soaked neck and your eyes wearily open.
Satoru is now on his knees.
His hands reverently run against your delicate robes. A meditative but possessive gleam darkens his eyes making them look like deep trenches.
He kisses your exposed thigh and you tug at his soft white hair. His rich cobalt eyes now flicker up to you.
You sigh out his name with a slight whine as you miss his lips against yours.
“Shh...” he urges softly as he bites at your skin again harder. Your hips rise on their own accord. He chuckles deep and thick.
“Let me worship you.” He whispers with reverence with eyes drenched in delicious lust. It’s the last thing he says before his tongue suddenly licks an intent path up your thigh straight to your sex and you see stars.
Eventually he carries you to his grand bed where you now lie against him.
Love drunk in the afterglow you can’t stop giggling at how Satoru continues to kiss any inch of your body.
“You really are the terror of the underworld.” You snicker playfully.
“Oh of course. Can’t let you forget my reputation.” He beams proud as he kisses your fingertips once again.
His chest is solid and warm under you as you rest against him. His heart beats like a beautiful strong drum you can rest your ear against and hear now. Instead you slide up higher to burrow your face against his neck. All of this is intoxicating and a gift you cherish.
But even in the afterglow, the weight of this union settles over a grim cloud.
“My mother is going to set the world on fire.” You mutter soft and pained.
“No,” Satoru kisses the top of your head. “The old geezer upstairs won’t let her.”
A comforting in his own Gojo way and you snort amused for a moment. Against his warm solid neck Satoru only draws you closer to him. The two of you stay in bed for what feels like a millennia but still not enough.
You are about to slide out of the bed when the god of the underworld whines grabbing you back like a child refusing to let go of their favorite toy.
“I need to get ready.” You softly say as you run your fingers through his cloud white hair.
“No.” He pouts. “You’re stuck here with me forever now, petals.”
That is true.
“I am, but you know I can’t avoid this.”
As you go to slip on the new beautiful robe that of course Satoru had ready for you, he blurts out-
“Marry me.”
Your knees almost give out.
You screech out a confused noise and whip your attention back to him.
“Are you serious!?”
“As serious are you were when you banged that poor pomegranate against a tree!” He fires back.
In a blink Satoru is suddenly holding you in one of his arms while the other cradles your face in his hands.
“Marry me.” He repeats again but this time his voice leans sincerity. “Let me annoy you for the rest of eternity by your side as your husband.”
You don’t hesitate. You pull his face towards you and kiss him desperate. The poor robe you slipped on is hastily yanked off and you are returned back to the cooling bed sheets.
“You know,” Satoru muses playfully as you rest again tangled up in his arms. “I never heard you say an official yes or no.”
You lift your head up and give him an incredulous glare.
“You can’t be serious, Satoru.”
“You’re right.” He softly beams down to you. “The amount of times I heard you screaming ‘Yes Satoru! Yes my love!’ was the best answer.”
You grab the nearest discarded pillow and smack him with it. It fully collides against his too gorgeous face and he laughs at the collision. The tables turn when he swiftly snags the pillow from your hands and playfully retaliates. Your laughter and his bounce together so brightly in the room. It fills you with enough strength to finally face whatever fate awaits you.
Your beloved headache of a fiancé reassures you with one soft kiss to your shoulder.
Before you can even step out of the palace, the surface world’s entrance cracks open. From the shadows you see your mother and then beside her is the god of the skies himself.
“Oh ho! Well now…this is going to be fun!” Satoru cackles with excitement.
“Hey, my darling soon to be wife,” he turns to ask you. Even with his eyes covered again you know glee shines in them. “You want the old man’s head on a platter as an early wedding gift?!”
You almost choke on air. Of course you’re not the only one outraged at what he said.
Your mothers voice cracks the air with destructive anger
“You’re engaged to this monster?!” Her eyes are blistering fires threatening to scorch you where you stand. You reply a solid yes without hesitation.
“Aw! I didn’t realize you liked me so much already, my dear mother in law!” Satoru coos. Your mother flat out ignores him as do you.
“This is prosperous! Outrageous!” The lord of the skies, Gakuganji, thunders in an outrage rivaling your mothers.
“She ate food from this world, and is so bound here.” Shoko explains with a steadied ease.
“There is now way you will survive here any longer!” She seethes at you. “You are not meant for this world!”
“Actually…” Suddenly the poised voice of the goddess of magic herself flutters into the room. With a steeled conviction, Utahime steps forward. She explains how she has been watching you ever since your arrival and noticed changes happening.
“Growth, new life has emerged here. We have all witnessed it. On top of that, I think being here has unlocked new abilities I don’t think we even thought were possible.”
Powers?
“When you momentarily stopped those curses from Tartarus.” Gojo explains patiently as if he read your mind. Faintly you hear the horrified voice of your mother screaming Tartarus?!
“I did that?” You ask stunned.
“Yup, you did.” Satoru beams, prouder than ever.
“What is the meaning of this!?” Gakuganji demands.
“It means she can survive here. If anything it maybe even suggests she might have even been destined to be here.” Utahime replies steady.
Destined to be here.
You think of the words she once told you, about how the underworld revealed truths about one’s self.
“Even with that possibility, you stay here and there will be no peace.” Gakuganji urges.
You know the suffering that could come. Your mother is a stubborn creature who would never relent.
For some reason, you think of the bleeding heart flower. You think of their stems and how distinctly the flower seems to be two parts blended together beautifully. Some of the petals even have to curl open for it to grow. So you decide to split your existence in half.
“For half the year I will be here, in the underworld with my husband.” The word rolls effortlessly off your tongue and it feels right, feels as if you have always said it. “And the other half will be on the surface. Equal time to each place.”
Gakuganji hums a moment to consider.
“You cannot allow this!” Your mother pleads to the grand elder god.
“No one can undo what has been done. The fruit has been eaten and she’s tied to this world.” Shoko clarifies simply.
Satoru hums a playfully amused noise that makes you want to smack him upside the head. Instead you ask for the room to speak with your mother. Now it’s just you and her, as it has been for so many centuries. Except a canyon now stretches between you and her. She waits on the other side of it a vengeful fury.
“Did you do this to spite me?” Your mother asks pained. Exhaling exhausted, you shake your head.
“I did this because it’s my choice, and because I love him.” You tell her with a patience that even surprises you.
“And that’s all I’ve wanted. Not to choose between what you wanted me to pick but instead make my own decision.”
“You…you cannot love the lord of the underworld.” She croaks with so many emotions tangled in her voice.
Your lips tug as if Satoru himself pinches your cheeks into a smile.
“I’m sorry, but I can and I do.” Might be one of the hardest tasks you ever faced, but you would do it for all of infinity.
Your mothers eyes scan over your face. The emotions in them seem endless, a bottomless well that you can’t even swim in.
“You’ve grown, my little sprout.” Her voice wistfully comments. The two of you simply stare at each other.
After that she barely looks at you even after the others return.
The decision is made rather simply compared to the riotous calamity that preceded it. Six months with your mother and six months here. But of course, your mother declares your time on the surface begins now. Gakuganji agrees and your spirit pops.
Any moment of celebration, any hope of wanting to enjoy being here, decomposes in your chest. You gather yourself as best as you can.
“Can I at least say goodbye to my husband?” You ask.
“You are not even married yet.” Gakuganji sneers.
“We aren’t. But you could wed us right now and change that if you’d like, old man!” Satoru offers. The old god’s face crumbles up so disgusted you have to hold back a laugh.
Thankfully you’re allowed a moment of solitude with Satoru in his chambers. You embrace his tall frame and he holds you tight.
“My offer still stands. Just say the word and I’ll throw the old man in the one of rivers.”
“Satoru please.” You sigh.
“What?! All I am saying is there is still time, I could easily throw him in. He wouldn’t even know what hit him.”
A small snicker does leave you as you shake your head no.
“Fine.” Your soon to be husband sighs disappointed.
“So much for an engagement announcement.” Gojo teases trying to soothe the moment with humor but a question about your sudden engagement has been weighing on your mind. You need to ask him before you leave.
Holding Satoru’s hand you gently lead him to the beautiful carved out window nook. When he sits completely flush besides you, you reach over to draw his blindfold away.
His eyes are oceans you never wish to leave. But you will have to. Every six months you will be away from this man who has burrowed a hole in your heart and made it his home.
“Why do you want to marry me?” You ask.
His eyes scrunch up slightly curious but also as if he doesn’t understand your question.
“Because you’re my other half.”
That’s beautiful, but it’s not enough. You’re thankful Satoru senses that’s not the answer you wanted and he sighs dreamily.
“That first time I saw you, do you remember?” He begins.
At Olympus, that seems like centuries ago now.
“You had so many petals and leaves stuck in your hair. Yet, your face was so angry…like you could’ve ripped apart the mountain in half.” He explains fondly. “Now I have no doubt you could if you smack a fruit against it.”
“Hey,” you playfully laugh but it’s watery, soaked in disbelieving love.
“But you were incredible, this hilarious creature of both fury and flowers. I had never seen someone so beautiful.” Satoru adds
His hands now have moved to encompass yours.
“Do you think we’re rushing into this?” You question.
“Do you think we are?” He mirrors it back to you.
A piece of you agreed this is rushed. But then the ache inside of you already dreading leaving this man speaks louder than your doubt.
“Look,” he speaks first. “My life has been the same for so long. Like I got stuck in my own infinity and then you came stomping in… ”
Satoru’s cerulean eyes fiercely flicker up to you and he stares unwavering.
“I’d tear apart the skies for you.” He says simply “You make my life brighter. You and your scrunched up annoyed face you always give me. Your laugh. The way you talk to all your planets like they can speak back-“
“Plants respond better to hearing voices.” you croak interrupting him.
“It helps them grow faster, yes I know.” He finishes for you so cheekily and your heart is about to float out of your body.
“So you really want to marry me?”
Satoru rolls his eyes at your question.
“Petals, I wanted to marry you the moment you threatened to shove me in the River Styx during one of our morning strolls.”
You bark a watery laugh. “Don’t tempt me. I’d still do it.”
The god of the underworld suddenly breathes out your name.
Tenderly Satoru leans forward and kisses you. You don’t care that your mother is waiting for you. You simply want to enjoy this slice of eternity for as long as you can.
“I love you.” You whisper the words, a holy sigh, against his lips.
“That’s nice.” He muses. He’s lucky no throw cushions are nearby or else you would have smacked him.
It dawns on you that this is the closest to a wedding you will get until you return. So you pull away from his lips and vow yourself to him.
You vow to always roll your eyes and snap at him when he says something ridiculous. You vow to always now take the biggest bite out of his confectioneries even if he complains. You vow to be by his side until the cosmos collapses and even beyond that. But mainly, you vow-
“That you never feel lonely for too long ever again, Satoru.”
His eyes go wide, shimmering almost in awe. The king rushes forward and kisses you with a dizzying passion.
“We would make terrible marriage officiants.” He mutters against your lips.
“Who cares.” You scoff.
“Hm seems I’m rubbing off on you in many other ways, petals.”
You chide him for being crude and he snickers, your ridiculous husband.
“What a cute new queen you are.”
Queen. By marriage, by love, you are a queen now.
“Your crown is going to be a twig, like the one you placed on me that one time.” Satoru grins playfully.
“As long as you match with me.”
He laughs so freely and it’s beautiful.
The thought of being a ruler, a monarch, for some reason does not scare you. You thought it would. Instead it only comforts you knowing the king who would be beside you is Satoru.
This joyous bubble however deflates as you return to your mother. This would be it. This is your goodbye until six months from now. But even among the heartbreak, a wave of reassurance washes over you. Because it is just six months. Compared to a lifetime without Satoru, six months is a simple breeze.
Once again you bid goodbye to Utahime, to Shoko, both embrace you tighter than ever. After all, you are one of their own now. And your husband, your poor Satoru, now wears the most obnoxious teary face that makes you want to flat out walk away from him.
But of course you embrace and kiss your king softly.
“You better not kill my garden.” You warn against his tender lips.
“No promises.” He smiles.
As you’re about to start your journey, Satoru wails dramatically.
“One last kiss to remember me by!” Then making a horrendous kissing-like sound, he rushes to your side. You effortlessly hold your hand out to stop his face from reaching you. He weeps horrified while Shoko and Utahime kneel over laughing in unison.
You’re amused at his antics but among the hilarity, Satoru leans into your palm. Gently he tilts his face and leaves a soft kiss on the palm of your hand.
It grants you tremendous strength to start your journey.
As you reach the edge of the stairs, so close you can almost taste the sunlight, you turn around. The last time you did this, Satoru was nowhere to be found. Now he stands at the very edge of the bottom of the walkway.
A moment passes. It is just you and him staring at each other. You’re tempted to run back to him one final time. But you can’t. You inhale a deep resolve and Gojo looks on proudly as he nods.
“I’ll see you soon, petals.” His voice is low but you hear it, clear as day, even from the top step. You nod back, not trusting your own voice to reply.
His words give you the push to reach the surface.
The morning breeze tenderly greets you first. Your legs feel like they can give out from all the emotions rushing through your body. So you look down to focus on where you step.
There among the lush green grass your white underworld flowers already sprout below you. Your lips twitch trying to hold back a tearful laugh.
Glancing up you see the grandest blue sky stretching far and wide.
You’ve always loved the sky.
Except now your breath hitches at the sight.
Because the color above is the same captured and crystallized in your husband’s eyes.
In the endless blue you find a new reassurance about the growth waiting for you in this new life. You also think of Satoru waiting for you as well. With the open sky now a welcoming blessing, you walk confidently into this new life.
With every step you leave behind delicate cloud-white underworld flowers blooming beautifully among the grass.
#I’m so nervous and petrified about posting this but knowing like me & three other angels will read this is all that matters#anyway I hate Gojo and here I am writing a 14k epic for him LMAOO peak clown behavior HONK HONK 🤡#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#Gojo x reader#Gojo 🩵
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Until Death Do You Vow Ch3 Apprehensive Role
(Again imagine what your dress looks like as the dress above/linked below only with a MUCH longer train and veil.
https://images.app.goo.gl/V4BZ1rEaXstvYx696)
The sweet sunlight kisses the world good bye as the sun set on the world. Wishing it good bye to make way for the cruel night that way ahead. Bathing the world in darkness tinted in red by his sister the moon as she dawned her best war paint and climbed higher into the darkened sky to claim her rightful place as Queen of the dark realm. The red a sign to all her dark children that tonight would be the night for mischief and mayhem. Danger and chaos.
Death and undead.
Beware the blood moon that comes to rise in the sky.
Beware the monsters who lurk and live amongst the world.
Beware of those who seek out their own entertainment.
So lock your doors up tight when the blood moon appears. Barricade all your windows. Block up any chimneys. Hide away in your deepest closest. Arm yourself with your finest weapons. Speak not a word and be silent. Sleep not a wink and keep alert for they will all spirit you away.
Mischievous fae. Blood thirsty vampires. Carnivorous werewolves. Fire breathing dragons. Scheming demons. And so many more.
Those who refuse to heed the warnings are fated to die to be spirited away never to be seen again. So hide away and don't make a sound. Never answer the door no matter what. And above all else be weary.
Beware. Beware. Beware. BEWARE-
You jumped as a thunderclap in the distance overhead echoed throughout the sky. Your head looked up instinctively and stared at the still lit up sky and the dark grey storm clouds that scattered across it like some shattered jigsaw puzzle. The sight of it worried you making a frown appear on your perfectly make uped face. The chilly wind blowing over you making you shiver and the veil flow in the wind and over your face.
A hand reached up to push the lacey veil away from your face to give a clearer look at the looming figure in front of you.
The stories you've heard about the ancient Gallagher Mansion, the tales and whispers and rumors. Hone to decadence and luxury in the days of yore, now abandoned and mostly forgotten. The aura of mystery and lost inheritance tainted by misfortune and blood mixed with greedy ambition. It's shadow loomed over your form blocking most of what's left of the sunlight, casting the eerie darkness over your beautiful white dress. None of the rumors have done it justice, only instilling more creepiness to the overall visage. The whole place looked like the stereotypical image of a haunted mansion in every Halloween decoration made. Old worm building. Creaking creepy metal fence. The old rock pathway leading up to the doors full of cracks and had weeds growing in the crevices. Gallagher Mansion was obviously abandoned for most of its existence. So why doesn't it look like a pile of splinters by now? Why weren't the grounds more overgrown than expected??... Must've been the caretaker. There must've been a caretaker.
"Team, do you copy?", a voice in your ear spoke out and made you jump nearly dropping both the phone and bouquet of roses in your arms. "What's the situation on the field? Over."
Pushing your things into one arm, you reached out to gently touch the ear piece Taylor had given you before the mission. You've used these before on other ghosts hunts in big areas you had split up in. Made things easier to keep in touch with each other. Suppose it was a good idea to keep them instead of pawning them for club funding money. Although you heavily debated on whether THIS was a good idea.
"I'm fine," you nervously shuffled in place giving another look around the place. "But I think it might rain soon."
"Don't jinx yourself now, Buddy. Good weather will make the mission easier. Over."
"Y'know we don't have to say over after everything we say. I can hear you just fine." You could almost hear Taylor's pout on the other side. "But so far it's pretty good. Other than the looming storm and how creepy this place is."
"Keep your guard up. If I'm right then I'm ninety percent sure we'll find at least something in this place."
"Uh huh. Well I'm more worried about tripping over my gown. Can't I take the heels off? Or roll the hem of it up a bit?" The light wind made you shiver again before the lacey veil gently floated back down over your face. "And did I seriously need to wear the veil?"
"Sorry. No can do. You gotta look the part for when you fall into the cold dead arms of Elias Gallagher. Over."
Back To the over thing huh? You rolled your eyes and sighed. "Right. I'll look as classically ravishing as ever."
Honestly you didn't know why you kept this stupid outfit. It was nothing but a reminder of unhappy memories. You didn't want to unpack it ever again and honestly you should've just sold the dress to the drama club of Zephyr University instead of just tossing it into the back of your closet. You were surprised Taylor even remembered that you still had it. If you had known of his ideas to use it you would've definitely gotten rid of it.
...
"Hey. Do you still have that old wedding dress?"
The question was so out of nowhere that it caught you off guard and you nearly dropped your lunch of cafeteria pizza the university provided. You stared at his happy face wide eyed and blankly just taking a moment to actually process what Taylor actually said.
"...Why would you ask me that?," you slowly asked lowering the pizza back onto the tray.
"Because I have an idea of how we could get Elias's attention!," he happily chirped ignoring your furrowed brows.
"And that involves my dress how?"
"Ghosts sometimes are drawn to things they're familiar with. That's why a lot of houses are haunted by former owners or something there'll be haunted objects that belonged to a dead person. Or sometimes they're drawn to people in similar situations to them when they were alive!"
"Taylor, in case you haven't noticed I'm not exactly dead!"
"No, but you both experienced tragic weddings-"
"No! Absolutely NOT!," you bluntly stated putting a stop to any wild plans as you pointed at him with a deep frown. "I'm not gonna go ghost hunting in a wedding dress that only brings me nothing but bad memories. I can't believe you'd even suggest that to me!"
"Oh, come on, Y/n! It's like the perfect plan! The groom who lost everything meets a bride who lost everything! It's full proof! It's perfect! It's-"
"A blatant disregard for my feelings and will nothing but stir up bad memories!," you spat before turning away to stare hard at the pizza on your tray.
Taylor seemed to pick up on the nerves he touched wincing and also looking away with a guilty look. There was silence except for the background murmurs of dozens of other people using the cafeteria. Eventually Taylor looked over glancing at your uneaten tray before looking at your face.
"Hey. I'm.. sorry. That was a real jerk thing to suggest," he apologized.
"It's fine. I'm not really using the stupid get up for anything really, and it wasn't being used anyways-"
"Wait. You'll do it?!" He looked surprised but then concerned. "You don't.. have to. I mean what if your dress gets ruined?"
You shrugged still not looking up and just grabbing the pizza again. "Like I said, I never used it anyways and it's not like I bought it so I won't really lose any money by it."
"Oh. Um. Ok! Cool! We can totally use this!"
"But you're buying me lunch for the rest of the year."
"WHAT?!"
"I'm gonna be ghost bait right? The least you can do is feed me for saving the club."
"Wha- Rrr. Fine."
You smiled at Taylor's pout. Free pizza never tasted sweeter.
....
You shuffled more looking back behind you. Down the road from the open gates was Taylor's car where he stationed 'HQ' for this whole thing. You were almost tempted to just leave and go back and demand to be taken home to your own bed but... Technically you did promise and one last ghost hunt before the club retired forever would be fun. With a sigh you turned back to the entrance of the manor.
"Hey. I have a question before I start this mission."
"Shoot."
With an evil smirk you asked, "Did they still have jesters in the Victorian era?"
"I don't really know...or why you'd be asking me that."
With a bigger grin you chuckled. "Im just saying what if Elias isn't the only ghost here? What if I run into his personal jester?"
"G-G-GHOST CLOWN!? NO!," Taylor squealed out of the other side as you began walking. "Why would you even suggest that?!"
"But my life could be in danger. Unless it was a nice clown ghost that makes people laugh-"
"Quit stalling and start the mission already!"
You couldn't help but laugh practically hearing him pout on the other side. It at least helped to calm your nerves as you approached the giant doors. Instinctively a hand reached down to pull up the bottom of this ballroom nightmare of a dress. Each step of your heels made a clicking sound with every slow step you took against the pathway leading up to the old doors. The nervous feeling returned as you approached the front entrance. The wooden steps of the porch creaked as you stepped up onto the first one and continued u-
CLINK!!
You jumped and looked over as a glass bottle fell off the steps and landed somewhere in the grass. You sighed in relief and scolded yourself. It was just a bottle no doubt left from someone partying here a long time ago. Get ahold of yourself. With a breath you Willed your body to turn and click your heels back up the rest of the way to the porch and reach out to the door only to hesitate. The wind had picked up a little bit by then making you shiver and the gate creaked as the wind pushed its heavy frame. Yep. This is definitely the start of a horror movie. The only difference is that it was still sun up but just barely. Sunset was so near and it would officially be night within an hour. You didn't want to be stuck inside during the night but you didn't want to be stuck outside during the night. So with a breath you reached out to one of the old heavy doors, turned the old brass knobs, and pushed it open.
CCCCRRREEEAAAAKKK-
It slid right open with a loud creak and you poked your head in looking around. Seeing nothing of danger you slowly stepped the rest of the way in careful to not let the long veil or train get stuck in the doorway before the door slowly closed from its own weight. The entire place was no pun intended dead quiet. The air stale and colder than the wind outside making you feel strange. But you were more surprised that the whole place wasn't more..Well destroyed. Wasn't this supposed to be a known party house? There should've been more bottles and trash everywhere but there wasn't. You expected more graffiti and for the place to be at least more in disarray with all the parties that supposedly go on here but it looked almost untouched. Abandoned but untouched. Strange.
"How's it lookin' in there, Bud?"
You again nearly jumped at Taylor's voice but shook your head. "Perfectly ripe for a haunting complete with a creepy portrait on top of the stairs." You squinted your eyes up the stairs in the darkness but could barely make out the portrait with the painted face staring at you from the too of the stairs. "In fact you'd probably have an asthma attack from all this dust."
"Is your sixth sense tingling?"
You took a moment to pause and look around again. "Not really but it is weirdly cold in here. Might be a sign."
"Then it's time to summon a ghost!"
"Right." Without a pause you brought up your phone and put it to video and audio recording. "Alright. I think I'm ready to start the recording. Let's see if we can get some spooky audio recordings."
"Alright. Remember we're trying to entice him out, so be polite about it."
"Is there any questions you want me to ask?"
"Well... don't ask him for the fortune up front, he might get offended. But maybe start with a greeting."
"Right." You walked a little more into the manor until you stood right at the end of the stairs, your heel clicks echoing everywhere. With an inhale you slowly sighed and pressed the record button on your phone. "Hello!" Your voice echoed throughout the building as you shouted at the air. "My name is Y/n. What's yours?" You waited a small moment to just allow anything to be caught on the recordings. "Is there anyone here who wishes to make contact with me?" Again another small pause. "Can you give me a sign you're here? Maybe move something or make a sound?" You stayed quiet maneuvering your phone around the place to record anything you might've missed ...but other than the wind and distant sounds of thunder, nothing answered you and all remained still. "Do you want me to leave? If you want me to leave please let me know so I can respect your space." Again... nothing but silence.
"Anything?"
"Nope. Not a thing. I'm gonna stop recording now and replay the video. Maybe the audio caught something we didn't."
Your thumb pressed the end button and you quickly went back to playback the video recording. "Hello!" Your voice echoed from the recording clear as day. "My name is Y/n. What's yours?" There wasn't a thing but silence next. "Can you give me a sign you're here? Maybe move something or make a noise?" You held it up to your free ear to listen closely...not a thing but static. "Do you want me to leave? If you want to leave please let me know so I can respect your space." You listened EXTRA carefully and closely...still nothing to be said. A little disappointed you removed the phone on your ear and went back to replay it. Ok. Nothing on the audio. Maybe the video? Just in case you slowed the video as slowly as the phone settings would allow you and painfully watched as it played all the way through...but saw absolutely nothing but a regular abandoned building you recorded.
"Ugh. There's nothing. It's a dud, Taylor."
"W-Wait! We can't give up now!," Taylor desperately shouted as if panicked you'd leave right now. "Maybe it's because it's still daylight out! It'll be nighttime in less than an hour. Ghost generally are more active at night right? Maybe we're not asking at the right time?"
You sighed before turning to sit down on the stairs and frowned. "Fine but Im sitting down. These shoes are killing me."
"Haha! I guess that's one downfall of dressing up so fancy."
You frowned. "Let me remind you Mister that it was YOU that insisted on me dressing up in the full get up!"
There was an awkward pause on the other end as Taylor cleared his throat nervously. "W-Well it's all part of the plan. A groom ghost is about to be attracted to the real thing. Even if you're not his actual bride, he still might get curious enough to come out."
"Lucky me. I get to wear it once for a groom who ghosted me and twice as bait for a literal ghost groom. Nice."
Again there was more awkward silence. "Y'know. That wasn't your fault. Clearly that guy didn't know what he was missing! He was an absolute scumbag!"
You did smile a little bit. This is why he was a good friend. "Hmph. Thanks. I knew I could count on my knight in shining armor."
He gave a couple laughs. "Well then that makes you the damsel in distress."
"Nah. With how I'm dressed now, I might as well be a princess. Sure have the tacky get up for it."
"Hm. Fair enough point."
"Don't think I'm pretty enough for the role though."
"Hey. Don't put yourself down, Bud. You totally have the looks to pull it off."
...You smirked. "Oh. So you think I'm pretty now?"
"GAH?!" You snorted hearing Taylor sputtering and you can imagine the red on his face matching his hair perfectly. "N-N-Now that's enough! Get your head back to the mission."
You still couldn't help but giggle at him. "Alright, alright. But I mean it. Thanks. I appreciate it."
Taylor didn't say anything but there was a few grumbles in response. You couldn't help but chuckle. You still remembered how he reacted to when Taylor saw you back in this whole get up back an hour or two ago when you got ready for the mission.
*****
"Come on, Y/n! It shouldn't take this long to throw on a dress and some make up." Taylor impatiently tapped his foot against the floor as he stood outside the room you were changing in.
"Hey! YOU were the one who wanted me to 'dress the whole none yards'. It takes a while to squeeze into this entire get up when I haven't even worn these in two years!" You answered back muffled by the door. "And I'm not exactly make up extrodinare. You can wait just a little bit more."
Taylor groaned rubbing his face. "Elias could've crossed over by the time you get done! Heck. I could become a ghost by the time you get out here!"
"Oh hush up you big baby. I'll be out as soon as I get these stupid shoes on."
Taylor only rolled his eyes as he still stared impatiently at nothing. How long could it take to put shoes on? Aren't girls supposed to be really good at dressing up? They're supposed to be shoe and fashion crazy! He pouted arms crossed for five more minutes until the door knob turned with a click and the door opened.
"Oh finally!" He turned around. "It was taking forev-"
Anything else he might've said died on his tongue as he turned and laid eyes on her mage walking out of the door. The white silky, sparkly white dress floated around her steps and hugged her body just so. Making her seem like Cinderella had just walked out of the fairytale books. The soft train drawling behind her along with the longer part of the giant veil that not only flowed down her back but covered her shoulders and sides too, with a smaller part of it covering her face. To which she reached up to push from her allowing him to see her fluttering lashes and shiny lips. There was enough make up to enhance her without taking away from her natural beauty.
She was...
BEAUT-
"Taylor?" He jumped when she snapped her fingers in front of his face. "You ok there pal?"
"Huh?! UH. YEAH!!" He cleared his throat and quickly looked away. "You look...You look exactly h-how I imagined for this!"
You rose a brow. "Thank you I guess." You blinked looking at his hands. "Taylor, are you holding a bouquet of roses?" He nodded. "Why?"
"W-What's a bride without her bouquet?" He shoved the bouquet at you. "H-Here."
You blinked but slowly looked at the bouquet. It wasn't a big bouquet, probably because Taylor and you couldn't spare a whole bunch of money being broke college students. There was about five roses all tied together and wrapped up in that fancy paper florists always used. You slowly took it from him in surprise and gazed over it.
"Wow... It's been a while since someone gave me flowers." A soft smile appeared on your face.
Taylor flushed more. "*Ahem* W-Well you gotta look the part. Um...You can just keep'em after the mission's done."
"Thanks, Taylor. They're beautiful."
"Um. Yeah! *ahem* C-Come on. It'll be dark soon. We better get going."
******
The sun soon disappeared over the horizon. Darkness took over the rest of the space and you sat there resting your legs as the darkness crept up enough to get you to shiver. The creepiness factor increased so much now that it wasn't bathed in light. Now that you were alone in the dark you used the flashlight on your phone to look around the place. Still looked the same as always. No changes.
"Any noticable changes?"
"Nope. Everything looks the same only darker. Doesn't feel different either."
"Are you ready to give it another go, Bud?"
"Sure. Why not? Got nothing to lose." You slowly stood up brushing the dust off your dress and looking around. There was no changes. So again you quickly shifted your phone to record with the flashlight on and pointed it around slowly. "Is there anyone else here with me tonight?" Your voice echoed throughout the place making a shiver run down your spine. But nothing happened.
"Try addressing him directly or asking something he might be interested in," Taylor suggested through the earpiece.
Why not? "I heard that Elias Gallagher is here. Do you want to come talk to me?" You listened closely but still no answer. "Do you like my dress? I heard you were going to be married. Is that true?" You still heard nothing carefully turning your phone this way and that to record the area surrounding you. "You don't have to be afraid of me. I'm not here to hurt you. I only wanna talk to you and hear what you gotta say. Is there anything you want people to know about you?" Still nothing. "Is there anyone here who isn't Elias Gallagher? I'd be happy to talk to anyone. If you can make yourself known that'd be great. Make a sound or move something to let me know you're there." Still nothing but the wind and distant thunder that didn't sound so distant anymore. "I'm gonna stop recording now."
"Anything happen?"
"Nope but maybe the recording caught something." You doubted it but it was worth checking out.
You stopped the phone and rewound it back. "Is there anyone else here with me tonight?" Nothing. "I heard Elias Gallagher is here. Do you want to come talk to me?" Nothing. "Do you like my dress? I heard you were going to be married. Is that true?" Nothing. "You don't have to be afraid of me. I'm not here to hurt you. I only wanna talk to you and hear what you gotta say. Is there anything you want people to know about you?" Nothing. Not a single thing. "Is there anyone here who isn't Elias Gallagher? I'd be happy to talk to anyone. If you can make yourself known that'd be great. Make a sound or move something to let me know you're there." Absolutely, purely, positively NOTHING!!
A big fat ZERO with a capital Z!!
You did the same thing as before rewinding it back and slowing down the footage to carefully comb through it again...Aaasnd nothing looked out of the ordinary again. The only difference was that it was darker than the previous footage.
"Well? What's the verdict?," Taylor sounded hopeful through the mic.
With a sigh you only shook your head. "Nothing. No audio, no footage, not even one spooky shadow. Taylor, Id hate to say it but this place really is a dud. If it was haunted surely something would've happened by now. I think it's just that. A ghost story."
"I-... You-..W-Wait. Maybe we're doing something wrong. Maybe you're not asking the right questions o-or maybe he only haunts a certain room in the mansion!"
"Taylor, I'm not just wandering around a mansion that's nearly two hundred years old and I'm the dark. What if the floor collapses under me or I breath in some kind of mold?" You crossed your arms with a frown. "Are you seriously asking me to risk my life for a ghost that's probably not even here?"
"I-...*sigh* No. I'm not gonna do that to you."
You half deflated at his disappointed tone. "Look, Taylor. I'm really sorry. We'll figure something out I promise."
"Yeah...Hey. Wait a second. There actually might be something!"
You rose a brow. "What?"
"The Gallagher's like a lot of wealthy families had a small cemetery on the property. It should be just behind the manor! Maybe we can get something directly from the source!"
Your brows rose. "Uh...Hold on a second there. Are you trying to say I should just walk into a cemetery in a wedding dress and try to make contact with ghosts?! That's how a horror movie starts!"
"PLEASE!! You've investigated cemeteries before!"
"Never alone! And you were always with me!"
"It's not a real cemetery though. Shortly after the death of the third Gallagher child, the family moved the all the Gallagher family remains to the community cemetery thinking that perhaps angry spirits on the property were to blame. So while there's no bodies, there's still the energy that they might've left behind."
.....Oh. Alright. That was..a bit better. You guessed.
"I don't know, Taylor. I have a bad feeling."
"We'll make this quick. if you don't capture anything then..*sigh* Then we'll go home right after. How's that?"
You hesitated for a long time before sighing. "You are going to owe me BIG TIME for this!"
#the groom of gallagher mansion#thegroomofgallaghermansion#tgogm#elias gallagher x reader#elias gallagher#taylor potts x reader#taylor potts#Until Death Do you vow
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The Princess and the Boy
As Princess Elura’s journey started as she ventured through the sprawling fields of Hyrule, her determination was as unwavering as the looming storm clouds that darkened the sky above the Faron region. The promise of rain did little to dampen her spirit; after all, a Zora finds solace in the embrace of water, whether rain or river. Her quest was apparent: to find Hyda and her companions, for within their knowledge or whereabouts lay the potential cure for her father's mysterious illness.
Elura paused, allowing herself a moment of respite. Stretching her limbs, she reflected on the weight of her journey. The idea that reuniting with Hyda could lead her to the cure filled her with a sense of purpose. Nodding to herself, she smiled, the vision of her mission clear in her mind.
As she continued, the path brought her into the company of a Hylian traveler, moving in the opposite direction. His greeting was warm, a reminder of the kindness that still thrived in the lands of Hyrule, even under the shadow of threat. The exchange was brief but meaningful, with Elura inquiring about his travels and offering her assistance, a gesture of goodwill that transcended her royal status.
On his way to Kakariko to avoid the impending storms, the traveler shared concerns about the unusually rainy season in Faron. Elura sought his help, revealing her quest for medicinal ingredients to aid her ailing father. The Hylian, unaware of the princess's identity, suggested the temple springs as a source for the herbs she sought.
Grateful for the guidance, Elura offered her thanks and invited her to seek her out in the Zora Domain should he ever need assistance. The revelation of her identity as Princess Elura took the Hylian by surprise, and his embarrassment quickly turned into respect. Elura reassured him, her demeanor humble and gracious, emphasizing that the help of kind-hearted individuals was always welcome and valued.
Elura resumed her journey with renewed vigor and a new lead to pursue in the temple springs. The encounter with the traveler provided valuable information and a reminder of the interconnectedness of their fates. As the Hylian continued, Elura set her sights on the Faron Region. Her heart lightened by the prospect of finding the cure, and her spirit bolstered by the kindness of strangers. Her journey was far from over, but each step brought her closer to healing her father and, perhaps, reuniting with Hyda.
Upon her arrival in Ordon Village, Princess Elura stepped into a world that seemed to hum with the echoes of Hyda's recent presence. The bustling streets and the diligent farmers working their land offered a vibrant tableau of daily life. Yet, for Elura, the village held a singular purpose: to trace the steps of Hyda, whose companionship she believed was vital to discovering the cure for her father's illness.
Her inquiry led her to an armored and vigilant soldier who confirmed Hyda's recent passage through the village alongside Commander Duncan. Despite the soldier's inability to provide their current whereabouts, he directed Elura to Impa, who might hold the answers she sought.
Elura found Impa amidst a flurry of concern in the mayor's house, which doubled as headquarters, not for the mission but for the whereabouts of a young boy named Link. Elura's offer to assist in the search was gratified, and together, they embarked on a quest beyond the immediate need to locate Hyda.
Impa revealed that Link had likely followed Duncan, a clue that led them to believe the child could be in the woods. Despite the uncertainty, Elura's determination did not waver. She called out for Link, hoping for a response, but Impa suggested that the woods were a more likely place to find the adventurous child.
Impa and Elura ventured into the Faron Woods with a shared sense of purpose, the dense foliage and whispering winds creating a backdrop for their search. The woods, known for their mystery and allure, now held the key to resolving Impa's worry and advancing Elura's quest.
As they moved deeper into the woods, the urgency of finding Link melded with Elura's broader mission. The search for the young boy symbolized more than just a rescue; it was a testament to Elura's commitment to those around her, reflecting her resolve to face the challenges ahead with courage and compassion. The journey through the Faron Woods, with its intertwining paths and hidden secrets, was but a chapter in Elura's quest, a step towards finding Hyda, securing the cure for her father, and, perhaps, discovering more about her strength and the bonds that tie her destiny to the fate of Hyrule.
#legend of zelda#roleplay#zelda fandom#zelda rp#discord rp#zelda#discord roleplay#zelda oc#discord server#fiction#narrative#heroes of hyrule#heroes of hyrule rp
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the art of loving you [alcina dimitrescu]
summary ━━━ sometimes, it was difficult for you to tell if what you and lady dimitrescu, or alcina as she has allowed you to call her, had was love. it remained a lingering thought in your mind as her daughters continued to call you their mother’s ‘human play-thing’ and most days, you let it not get to you. but, it was difficult to ignore that fateful night and the lady of the house had easily noticed something was upsetting her little pet.
pairing ━━━ alcina dimitrescu x reader.
words ━━━ 1612
fandom ━━━ resident evil.
warnings ━━━ pure fluff, honestly. but, it has some hints of nsfw vibes but it doesn't go into them.
author's note ━━━ lady dimitrescu owns my heart and I have spent so much time reading fanfics about her that I just needed to write one of my own. who knew a tall sexy vampire lady would be what broke my hiatus and brought me back to tumblr? but, I am here to stay and I am so excited to write more reader inserts! and to continue to fill requests! for now, my requests are open! but, I will probably write a lot more for alcina as well! so, I haven't finished resident evil village yet because of how busy I am with work and that might make the characters a little out of character! but I couldn't wait to write about alcina! hopefully, I will have the game finished soon! some things have been spoiled for me already, but a lot of the game is still unknown because I am still in the very beginning of the game where ethan just gets to the village. but, I still hope you all enjoy this one-shot! it's just fluff between the reader and our lady!
DARK CLOUDS LOOMED AGAINST THE HORIZON, matching the catastrophic thoughts that lingered in the back of your mind as you numbly flipped the pages to the book you had tried so hard to distract yourself with. But, your mind had not retained any of the words written on the yellowed pages as your mind stayed on the woman that held every inch of your heart. With a sigh, you turned your gaze out the window instead. The window pane was cold to the touch, courtesy of the snow that remained a constant of the land.
It had only been two years since you had arrived at Castle Dimitrescu ━━ a mistake, truly. At least, at first, it had been as you stumbled across the maidens that the grandiose home belonged to. It should have been the last night of your life, but the lady of the house had taken a keen interest in you. You had not understood it at first, but you had grown attached to Alcina Dimitrescu and her… mysterious ways. Perhaps, you would even go as far as to call it love at first sight. And, you had thought she had felt the same way with her sweet words and burning touches. But, then doubt had become to creep into the dark crevices of your relationship with the woman.
It was often her daughters teased you, complaining about how they couldn’t stand to hear the beat of your heart. But, their mother had explicitly forbidden them from touching you. Though, you did not feel unsafe around them and had grown to trust and like each of them. But, their words tended to hurt whenever they referred to you as their mother’s play-thing. It was as if there was a timer on your life and it wouldn’t be long till Alcina grew bored of your presence and decided it was your time to join the dead.
“The day has come and gone and you have yet to leave our bedroom,” the regal voice belonging to Alcina echoed throughout the room, startling you at your spot in the window sill. She stood tall with her golden eyes watching your every move, making you hold your breath as you waited for her to speak. With long strides, she quickly reached the window as she looked down at you with an unreadable expression. Regardless of your height, you always dwarfed in comparison to her as she stood taller than most she came across. But, she looked even taller whilst you sat. She leaned down, placing a gentle kiss against your lips. When she pulled back, her gaze met yours. “Has something happened?”
“No,” the word quickly left your lips as your felt your cheeks burn at the sudden closeness. Her scent of her old vintage lavender perfume with hints of blood filled your nose ━━ the old mixture had become a comfort for you. With a clear of your throat, you continued to speak. “Everything is fine.”
A hum left her red lips, seemingly vibrating every sense of your being. With two fingers, she trailed against your jaw as she continued to stare at your parted lips. “You should know better than to lie to me, my darling.”
“I do not wish to bother you with my human problems,” you muttered bitterly, pushing her fingers off your skin. For a moment, her eyes flashed with an unknown emotion but she did not utter a word as she took a step back to create space between the two of you.
“So, something has happened,” Alcina commented, standing to her feet as she towered over you again. It made you feel small in every sense as a wave of tears made their presence known. Hiding them from her was futile as she continued to watch, making you sniffle as you tried to wipe them away. “Tell me, who has hurt you?”
“No one.” It wasn’t like you to throw her daughters underneath the bus because of some harsh words. After all, you needed to be stronger than that.
Her hand reached forward, wiping away the stray tear with her thumb before she caressed your cheek. It took everything in you to not lean into her touch, refusing to place a kiss against her tender skin. Despite your lack of reaction, Alcina moved closer as she took a seat on the window sill. It was difficult due to her size, but she made it work as she continued to run her thumb against your cheek. “Then, why the tears?”
She waited for you to speak, listening to the shaky breaths that left your lips as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I’ve been having doubts,” you confessed, biting the inside of your cheek as you met the woman’s eyes. “About… us.”
“What do you doubt about us?” She asked softly. And, for the first time, you could hear worry in her tone as she slowed her movements. Her sharp gaze had softened, lingering on your saddened expression.
With a deep breath, you took her hand off your cheek as you held it close. Her hands were larger than an average person’s, but you still fit perfectly in them. “I fear that you do not love me the way that I love you,” you whispered, keeping your eyes on your interlocked hands. “I feel as if I am something that you use to pass the time. Someone to warm your bed at night for the time being before you get bored and move to the next.”
“People say I’m heartless,” she started off slowly, taking your words deep into her heart as her gaze flickering to your hands as well. “They call me a monster ━━ a frightening legend that mothers tell their misbehaving children. And, for a long time, I believed in those legends that painted me as a cruel vicious beast. That is, until I met you, my darling.”
Her words made you look up, daring to meet her eyes as she stared at you unblinking. Her beauty had always taken your breath away, making her perfect to you at anything that matters. Still, you remained quiet.
“Perhaps, I did not love you at first,” Alcina confessed, ever so slightly tightening her grip on your hand as she let out a heavy sigh. “But, you came into my life like a storm and I had learned how to dance in the rain. Regardless of what you think, my love for you is true. My darling, you make me feel whole ━━ the missing piece I had unknowingly been searching for.”
“Do you really mean that?” you asked softly, barely finding your voice as you faced the woman. Her words were like honey, dripping sweetness onto your tongue as you tried your hardest to believe her.
Her free hand caressed your cheek, moving closer to you before she left a chaste kiss against your forehead. “Have I ever lied to you before?”
“No, but…”
“Cease your doubts, my love,” Alcina said, staying inches away from your lips as her breath fanned against your cheeks. She whispered your name, letting out a deep sigh as she took in your scent. “What can I do to convince you that my love for you is true? To convince you that I want to spend the rest of our days together? To convince you that my heart yearns for you and only you?”
"Alcina…” you whispered softly, closing your eyes as her lips hovered over the skin of your neck. She didn’t move, waiting for some indication from you. “I love you more than anything in this world and… I wish to spend the rest of my life with you. If you would have me, that is.”
The soft words caused Alcina to open her eyes as she faced you, showing no emotion as usual. It made it hard for you to predict her next move as you waited for her to say anything. But, then a soft smile presented itself to you as she leaned in close. “Of course I would have you, my darling,” she whispered, meeting your eyes. “I would do anything for you.”
Her words brought a smile to your lips, pushing you forward as you engulfed her lips with your own. She was quick to pull you into her lap as she held you close, kissing back with the same intensity that you gave her. It made you feel warm with her love as any doubts you had begun to vanish as she held you. There was no doubt that Alcina Dimitrescu was hopelessly in love with you as you were with her. Yet, the sweet moment had ended too soon.
There was a knock at the door, causing a deep growl to leave Alcina’s lips as she pulled away from yours. It left you breathless as the two of you looked to the door to see Cassandra. She wore a sadistic grin, moving deeper into the room as she regarded the two of you. “Forgive me for interrupting,” she cooed, stealing a glance at your flushed expression with playful vice. “But, he’s back.”
A frown marred your features, causing you to glance back at Alcina and see the irritation blooming. “Who is back?”
With a sigh, Alcina looked to you as she forced a smile to her lips. She moved forward, leaving a chaste kiss against your lips that had become stained the same color as hers. “Only a nuisance that you needn’t worry about,” she whispered softly, moving to stand to her feet. “I shall be back soon, my love.”
At her words, you smiled. “I will be here waiting for your return.”
#alcina dimitrescu x reader#lady dimitrescu x reader#resident evil#re8#lady dimitrescu#alcina dimitrescu#cassandra dimitrescu#resident evil village#resident evil 8
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Keepsake
Characters: Captain Syverson x female reader (3rd person)
Word count: 1.827
Warnings: Death, loss, hopelessness, light cursing, sadness, melancholy, grief, heartache, mourning.
Author’s note: This story was inspired by the song 'Everglow' by Coldplay.
Do me a favour and listen to the song, while reading this, I'll link to the different versions, depending on your mood.
Everglow (original) by Coldplay
Everglow (acoustic) by Coldplay
Everglow (instrumental) by Alexandre Pachabezian
The links are for Spotify, if they don't work try this link for YouTube
I do not own any characters in this short story, except the wife, son and Elijah Reed, who are figments of my imagination.
A massive, MASSIVE, thank you to my beloved angel, @radaofrivia, for giving me the idea from just a few thoughts, for sitting through with me while I wrote this, for giving me advice and for just being there.
Please check out her stories right here: RADA'S MASTERLIST
MY MASTERLIST
Feedback is appreciated.
(Young Syverson, picture credit to @killjoy-assbutt-1112 - find it here)
Oh, they say people come
Say people go
This particular diamond was extra special
And though you might be gone
And the world may not know
Still I see you, celestial
Lyrics are from Everglow by Coldplay.
The looming grey clouds were moving closer towards him. He could hear the distant sounds of the rumbling thunder. Before long it started to rain and lightning lit up the entire house. The dirt road was flooded in no time, giving the crops the liquid nourishment they needed.
The former army captain was restless. It was on days like these he missed him, more than anything else in the world. He couldn’t sit still and had planned on working on the house, but the coming storm was putting a stop to that. Instead, he sat on the porch swing he built with Elijah when Lucas bought the house.
The Syversons had moved to their farm when Lucas was 4. A few days into the move, their neighbours had stopped by with some casserole, and to welcome them to their community. Mr and Mrs Reed also had a son who was a few months younger than Luc. Elijah had hidden behind his mother’s leg, a little shy, but with some encouragement he greeted Lucas.
“I’m Lucas, but my baby sister can’t say it yet, she keeps babbling Luc, so if it’s easier, you can call me Luc too.”
“I’m Elijah.”
Sy remembered he was trying so hard to pronounce his new friend’s name. He smiled at the memory, the name had been permanent in Lucas’ mind, only using Elijah, when he was mad at him or thinking he was about to do something stupid, which he did often.
“Lija, wanna play?” Lucas asked awkwardly.
“What?” Elijah looked profoundly confused. “I… don’t know.”
“Go on, son. It’s okay,” Mr Reed tried to encourage him.
“Come with me, Lija. I wanna show ya somethin’.”
Lucas had shown Elijah his new toy tractor that his parents had given him for his birthday. The two young boys had played together, and before long were inseparable.
A round yellow object in the palm of his hand. He was fiddling with it. The coin was always in his pocket, so he could keep his best friend close to him at all times. It was an old arcade coin that you could plot into any machine and play one game.
The two best friends had each gotten a dollar’s worth of coins, but the man at the ticket booth had miscounted, so Sy had gotten an extra coin, which the two friends had fought over during their time in the arcade. Lucas being the protector he was, lost to Elijah on purpose, so his friend won the coin.
“I’ll savour it, it’s going to be my lucky coin!” Elijah has announced.
Syverson swung the porch swing with his booted foot. He stared at the coin, wondering why he had been the lucky one. Luc shook his head faintly, his face full of pain and sorrow.
The coin became a thing that decided their fate. When the boys couldn’t agree on something, they would flip the coin. The picture side was heads and the text ‘No cash value’ side was tails. It might have been worth nothing, but it was a priceless item to the two friends.
“Heads: I ask her on a date, tails: you ask her,” Elijah flipped the yellow coin and covered the back of his hand as it landed. The two teenagers looked over at the brunette cheerleader, who was laughing with her friends. Prom was upon them and they both wanted to ask her. Elijah lifted his hand, it was heads.
The dumb coin was always on Elijah’s side. Lucas let out a soft laughter of the memory. Elijah’s face had been priceless, Sy wished he had taken a picture of it. It had been Elijah’s first kiss that night.
When Lucas decided to enlist, Elijah followed him, even with a lot of arguing against it from Sy’s side. He didn’t want his best friend anywhere near a warzone but in the end, he was glad that Lija was there with him through every hardship during training, when they lost people on their team, when they had to carry the dead back to base, it was better to have a friend by your side and share the pain with.
It didn’t take Syverson long to rank up and become captain. He ended up leading a large group of soldiers in a village in Iraq, with Elijah as his lieutenant, he felt like he could conquer the world.
During one of their trips home, Sy had bought a house he wanted to renovate, maybe start a family in. Elijah had spent every moment he could, helping Lucas with the house. It had made them closer as friends, and they had heartfelt talks about their future. Elijah wanted to come home and help his ailing parents with the farm, maybe get into breeding horses, preferably racehorses. Sy hadn’t thought of his future in that sense by then. He just wanted to relax, drink beer and ride his motorcycle.
There was hardly a moment in Lucas’ life where Elijah wasn’t a part of it. Elijah was his best friend, and if he had to be a little girly, they were BFFs. His best friend’s presence had made every moment special, made them better. It was the hardest part, to not have Elijah by his side anymore. He missed Elijah’s silly, huge and sometimes irritating grin, which somehow made the world seem a bit brighter during the dark times. Elijah made his life easier… he just made it better to have a friend to share everything with.
His heart had broken in a million pieces when the building collapsed on top of his best mate.
“Captain, we need a scouting team. I’m taking three soldiers towards those buildings and see if there are enemies up ahead,” Elijah had suggested.
“Lieutenant, I make the orders here. I’m going,” Lucas commanded.
“Heads or tails, Luc,” Elijah picked out the coin from his breast pocket.
“This is no time for such thing, Lija,” the captain grumbled.
“This is the perfect time, Luc. We promised that whenever we couldn’t agree on something, we would use the coin. So, heads or tails, captain Syverson.”
“Heads.”
The coin had landed on the tails side. Lucas had cursed the coin, fuck, shit, crap, dammit!
“It’s my turn to protect you, Luc. I’m not the scrawny little kid anymore, let me show you!”
Elijah had gathered three soldiers and run between two concrete buildings with a big smile on his face. Sy would never forget the smile. It was a grin of pride and determination. And it was the last time Lucas would ever see his best friend.
Moments later a huge explosion shook the ground they were standing on. Sy watched with horror as the buildings collapsed, trapping Elijah and his team. What they didn’t know then was that the impact with the concrete walls had killed him instantly.
The rest of the soldiers watched as their captain went on his knees. Utter despair and anguish plastered on his face, tears about to escape the corners of his eyes. The usual strict army captain, the man with the muscles, the tough guy who could break you with a stare, was breaking down.
“Lija…” he whispered into the dust-filled space, his voice breathless like somebody knocked the air out of his lungs.
At night he had screamed in pain of the loss of his most beloved friend. His days were filled with hopelessness as he prepared to fly home with Elijah’s corpse in a coffin. The nights only brought nightmares, so he started writing a letter to his best friend and thinking of how to tell Elijah’s parents.
“Dear Lija. I can’t believe you’re… Shit, I can’t even write the word. Just a four-letter word, and yet I can’t fucking write it down on a piece of paper. I wish I could have taken your place, man. It should have been me. I hate you for forcing me to pick a side on that stupid coin. I hate you for being so brave. I hate you for wanting to protect me. Fuck you for dying. Fuck you for leaving me. Here. All alone. What about your parents? How am I going to tell them that you’re… how am I going to face them? You are and will always be my best friend. I wish you could go back to your parent’s farm on your own two legs, not in a fucking box. I miss you, Lija. You’re the closest thing to a brother I will ever get. So rest in peace and keep the seat next to you warm, I’ll see you on the other side. - Luc.”
Lucas had sneaked the letter into Elijah’s breast pocket of his uniform before they had shut the coffin. The coin that Elijah had on him, had been put in a plastic bag with the rest of his belongings, prepped to be given to his next of kin, his parents. But Lucas took the yellow token. He needed a memento to remember his best friend by, something that he could keep with him always. A keepsake.
It had taken every ounce of courage for Lucas to step up to the front door of the Reed’s farmhouse. A house he was so familiar with and had so many adventurous sleepovers in Elijah’s space-themed bedroom. He could smell Mrs Reed’s famous peanut brittle, making it harder for him to knock, but he did it anyway. Standing there in his military uniform, he told the two people, who had acted as a second set of parents to him, that their only son had died heroically in battle. Lucas stood frozen, watching them mourn the loss of their son. He was about to step away to give them space, but Mrs Reed grabbed his wrist and brought him into the hug.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him,” he pleaded, his voice breaking slightly.
“Was he in pain?” Mrs Reed asked, breaking Lucas’ heart all over again.
“No, ma’am. It happened really fast.”
Sy fiddled with the arcade coin. Having zoned out the thunder, not noticing the storm had come and gone. The sun was slowly setting on the horizon. It was a peaceful ending to an emotional day.
A loud wailing came from inside the house. The front door opened and out came his beautiful wife with their young son in her arms. His face was stained in tears. The tiny boy reached towards his father the minute he saw him. In his father’s arms was the only place the boy was happy and content. Sy’s face broke into a happy grin at the sight of his son. His tiny fingers trying to grab the coin in the former captain’s hand.
“This,” Sy showed it to his son, “will be yours when you’re old enough not to eat it.”
He chuckled at the frustrated look on the boy’s face. Sy kissed the top of his son’s head.
“I love you, Elijah.”
#Henry Cavill#This man#I need a drink#Captain Syverson#Henry Cavill x female reader#Henry Cavill x reader#Henry x female reader#Henry x reader#My story#Keepsake#Everglow#Fanfiction#henrycavillfanfic
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The Good I Come Home To ||Leon S. Kennedy x Female!Reader|| Part 1
Warnings: Angsty, PTSD Leon being very jumpy and shell-shocked, mentions of sex.
Words: 3318
Summary: Originally posted to my Archive of Our Own Account.
Part 2 can be found here
Leon has kept it very casual with you for months, seemingly oblivious of the growing feelings you harbour. You have no idea just how badly it hurts him to leave you every time until he tries to cut you out of his life completely. You have other ideas. You just have to persuade Leon they're the right ones.
Leon S. Kennedy was a complicated man in many respects, but it was easy to unravel all those complex layers if you started looking at his core values, his sense of purpose. To serve, to protect. Leon was built to be the bodyguard of humanity, the first line of defence between unimaginable horror and the things he loved. Every experience had moulded him into this hard shell of a man, so far from the one people used to know. It had been interesting, really, to see an old friend from the Police Academy approach him and see just how different they had turned out. They both had the eyes of experience anybody in the force acquired over time, but Leon’s were sterner, like an unbreakable stone as opposed to ice you could chip away at and eventually shatter. This old friend of his had a small-town job and apple pie life. He had the white picket fence and the wife who kissed him when he came home to freshly made dinner. His children were doing well at school.
Leon had listened like his life was a whole other world away. It was visible in his eyes, though he carefully kept it off his face, that the comparison between each man actually disturbed him. You hadn’t meant to see of course. It was pure coincidence you’d happened to be in the supermarket, walking down that same aisle. His old friend had hit the barricade you so often hit when you asked. You’d stopped questioning it after a few months of back and forth and the looming threat of losing him became a dark and unbearable burden.
“So er, heard about the huge explosion at Raccoon. Where’d they place you after that?”
“Nowhere. I work for the government now.”
“Oh damn. FBI?”
“Something like that.”
His job was the complicated topic. Classified and bad enough to put a certain brand of darkness behind his eyes when you asked, it was best left untouched by your hands because it was hidden beneath the many layers of the man you’d only ever been allowed to scratch the surface of – literally and figuratively. Beyond his core values, the simplicity of Leon S. Kennedy lay in his needs. He was a flesh and blood man after all. He was guaranteed to need to eat, to do laundry, to shower, to relieve himself. These simple needs were what made him somewhat predictable to you. On his best days, when he text you days or hours before, you were almost guaranteed to be wined and dined. Okay so the wine and dine option was sometimes more like beer and take-out pizza but it was always paid for by him if you bought the alcohol.
When he was feeling a little less than okay, you’d get no outright statement of his desire to see you, but he’d hedge around the topic and wait for you to ask him, like he was afraid to be a nuisance. You’d only get this awkward and prompting behaviour from him an hour or two before he showed up which left you little time to prepare, but a quick shower was always on the cards. In his worst moments, he’d give no warning and simply show up at your house with smouldering eyes that demanded your attention and everything else you had to give him. God help you, you always gave him everything. As simple as his needs were, as his feelings on the matter appeared, yours were much more complicated. Leon S. Kennedy had made it clear from the start when he met you at the bar that fateful night, all chiselled jaw and playful eyes, that nothing serious was to come of this.
It had progressed to a proper agreement when you both seemed to just keep running into each other. You were free to date, if you so pleased, and he’d stop showing up. He’d be gone like dust in the wind, untraceable and impossible to bring back. You didn’t want that. Until the day either of you became tied down you had agreed you were exclusive. You sated each other only. It was hard to keep to that promise all the time when he was away for long periods, but you remained true to your word anyway, and that was how it had stayed for a solid eight months. Leon came back to a bed you kept free just for him and left in the morning like it was no more than a pit-stop on a long and winding road.
You suspected he wasn’t proud of it. You thought sometimes you could see something softer in his eyes, something that made you think he wished for something more than he was already giving you. There were moments his eyes lingered when he said goodbye, times his hands stayed on you a little longer than they usually did. On rare occasions, when he was just a bit too drunk after what you guessed was a bad job, you let him sleep it off with his arms around you and listened to the whimpers in his sleep with an aching heart. Leon consistently let you have his body, gave you the briefest glimpses at the big heart he held so carefully hidden away, but never once did he let you into his mind. As much as you loved being with him, you had never truly been with him at all. You’d never truly connected with him beyond anything physical. It pained you to know you never would. You cared for him too much. You saw the deep pain he carried with him everywhere, and you’d never be able to alleviate that load because he wouldn’t let you.
You had to pause the TV to be sure you’d actually heard anything at all, but when you heard the noise again it was stronger, bolder. Knocking. Glancing at the clock, you turned the TV off with a frown. There weren’t many people who would come knocking at this late hour, and you didn’t know if your heart was in it tonight to let him in when he would forever keep you out. As if on cue, when you opened the door to a dripping wet Leon, thunder rumbled and rattled the open window in the corridor of your apartment block. A small puddle of water had formed on the windowsill, dripping in as the harsh rain battered the glass. Leaving your door propped with the door stop you kept nearby for moments like these, you crossed to the window to close it and lock out the weather. You felt sullen enough without the storm clouds invading your house.
“Leon if you’re here to drink that’s okay but I’m not really up for-“ you cut yourself off, uncertain all of a sudden as to what it was he was here for. His needs were always so simple, the looks and actions associated with them something you had come to learn to recognise without much conscious thought. This was entirely new. Those piercing blue eyes were sullen, fighting between being as hard as sapphire and as soft as calm ocean waves. What was frightening was the depth of the ocean you saw. It was like staring into an abyss of torment. Red-ringed and with whisky on his breath, it didn’t take a genius to realise Leon had been crying and was in fairly bad shape. Hair soaked and plastered to his forehead, he stared at you through those horribly complex eyes, his mouth half open like he wanted to say something but couldn’t force the words out. He was pale, breaths even but heavy, like he had to physically remind himself to huff out each one.
Wordlessly, you took him by the hand. His skin was freezing to the touch and you guessed the faithful jacket had done little to keep the bitter cold from seeping into his exposed skin. Your theory was proven right when his cheeks were just as cold to the touch.
“I…” you thought he might say more but it was like watching a caveman learn to talk. There were only sounds, no words. He was usually very skilful with his tongue but tonight those talents were nowhere to be found. Pushing his jacket from his shoulders you hung it to dry over the back of your sofa, hoping the radiator would do its job and leave it toasty for him when he inevitably put it on to leave you again. You ignored the stinging in your chest at the thought. Leon didn’t need you to be petty right now. Truthfully, you were frightened. Leon’s carefully constructed composure had been shattered by something and you didn’t think you wanted to know what was strong enough to shatter this man’s rock hard exterior and cut him so deeply. He stood dumbly in your hallway, and you gently pushed him to the edge of the sofa to take off his shoes so they wouldn’t traipse water into your home.
“Shhh Leon, just come with me.” You coaxed him back onto socked feet, leading him down the hall to your bathroom.
“No…no Y/N I, I don’t…” he swallowed.
“Do you trust me Leon?” you asked him, keeping your voice gentle like you were cajoling a wild animal into eating from your palm. Leon nodded without question and you smiled slightly. “Then just follow for me now.” You kicked open your door and led him to the edge of the tub, grabbing a towel from the shelving units there and placing it on the sink.
“What are you doing?” he could barely speak above a whisper, looking confused and upset and lost all at once.
“I’m going to run you a nice hot bath before you catch your death. I don’t know how long you were in the rain for Leon but you’re frozen to the bone.” You said calmly, putting the plug in the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. Leon didn’t answer, merely watched you with the eyes of a man so lost in trauma he couldn’t find his way back to the surface world and make sense of the happenings around him. While you waited for the water to turn steamy, you rubbed at his hair with the towel in your hand to dry it. You knew something was incredibly wrong when he let you mess it up like that. There were very few instances you were allowed to touch his hair and you had to always, always comb it back into place or suffer the consequences. Occasionally, you took a break to fill the tub with some of your prized bath oils. Lavender, camomile, jasmine, all your favourite scents from a beautiful kit a colleague had bought you as part of secret Santa last year.
He didn’t comment as the room filled with intoxicating, relaxing scents, nor when you checked the temperature again and told him he could get in when he was ready. He held the towel in both hands, staring at the cotton as if it might hold some answers.
“Thank you.” He mumbled. You nodded once.
“Have you eaten anything yet?” you asked him. He nodded once, but he didn’t meet your gaze. He was lying you were sure. “Okay. Take as long as you need in here, I’ll be about when you feel ready to see me alright?” you promised, leaning up to kiss his cheek softly. Your lips lingered a little too long, but Leon didn’t move away. He closed his eyes as if the contact was all he had wanted and more. As the door closed behind you you heard the soft, muffled sob he tried so hard to bury in the towel, and your heart broke a little more. Something had shattered Leon S. Kennedy and it didn’t sit well with you at all to see him this vulnerable. He needed the space right now to get his mind back in order but once he did, when he was ready to face you, you weren’t sure you’d get an explanation from him. He’d shut down every time you’d ever asked for one before.
He’d woken screaming one night, lashing out so violently that if you had been sat upright there’d have been no way to avoid his fist and he’d have knocked you out cold. When you tried to ask what was wrong, he’d simply snapped at you to leave him be and left your apartment so fast there could have been a fire under his ass. So, what did you do? Did you just not even try? He hadn’t made a move on you, had specifically said no when he saw you heading in the direction of the bedroom. But if he wasn’t here for sex what was he here for? It only added to your anxiety that you really had no clue what he wanted if it wasn’t your body he’d come for, and though part of you thought that should make you angry, another part of you hoped that that meant it was something more that he was after this time. The kind of more you wanted.
No. You had to try for him. You couldn’t let him go on like this. He didn’t have to fight the war in his head alone, not when you were here. At least, if he wanted to go it alone, he could have someone stable waiting with a safety net if he stumbled. For now you’d let him linger and soak in the tub, and you’d make the most out of the ingredients you had in the fridge. If he stayed, he could eat it off a plate. If he didn’t…well, you’d make some in a container in case. Pasta bake had always been your father’s speciality and it had been your favourite as a child, was still your comfort food now. Chicken and bacon sizzled, pasta boiled, and you grated the cheese to the rhythm of your favourite song playing softly on the radio while the milk and butter warmed on the stove. You snagged a piece of bacon from the wok and let the salty flavour burn your tongue.
With your masterpiece constructed and more cheese grated on top, you slid the dish into the oven for it to crisp up and set your timer, setting about washing the utensils next. It kept your hands busy, kept your mind from wandering too much, but even the sudsy water couldn’t quite keep your mind from ticking over. Why had Leon come here in the pouring rain? What had spooked him so badly he’d thought, in his less than coherent state, that he needed to be here in your apartment? Did the fact he’d come to you mean anything at all or did he just happen to be nearby? You put the saucepan a little harder than necessary into the rack when it slipped from your hands, jumping and cursing to yourself at the loud clang it had made.
“Y/N!” Leon almost roared your name in pure, abject terror. Eyes wide you rushed for the bathroom, hands still soapy and dripping water. He was already out of the bathtub, naked and scrambling through his jacket until he came up with a gun of all things, aimed right at you as you burst through the door. A shriek escaped you and you immediately dropped to the floor, hands above your head.
“Leon it’s me!” you begged. Harsh breathing filled the room.
“Where is it?” he demanded. You peeked up at him from below your arms, lowering them slowly. He was half-crouched, eyes wild and fixated on the door that led back to your room. He offered you a hand. “Come on, get up and get behind me, where is it?” he repeated the question more firmly now.
“Where’s what? Leon I – there’s only us here. I just dropped a saucepan.” You breathed. His expression faltered, confusion flooding his features first , then guilt, and finally grief. His eyes closed and he inhaled deeply, held it, exhaled slowly. He lowered his gun after a few more deep breaths.
“I’m sorry.” He said, looking a little like a kicked puppy. You shook your head, slowly pushing to your feet so as not to startle him. His skin was tinged pink, little suds clinging to the ends of his hair. The timer went off in the kitchen and Leon flinched again, hand tensing around the gun. You soothingly placed your hand on his arm.
“It’s just the timer. We’re the only people here Leon, nothing’s going to hurt us. How’s about you dry off and come have something to eat?” you suggested. He blanched at the mention of food and you frowned. “You don’t have to eat everything, just a little bit, you look really pale.” You reached for the towel and held it out to him until he reluctantly nodded and wrapped it around his waist. You left the door slightly ajar and headed for the kitchen to switch off the damn timer. He was so jumpy, so eager to jump to your defence. You plated up a small portion, not wanting to put him off with a large one. You didn’t feel particularly hungry yourself but you’d had a proper meal earlier in the evening, a cup of tea would suffice, camomile and honey would soothe your nerves. Leon had a liking for peppermint you knew. Maybe if he was nauseous that would help him eat? Tea and pasta bake served you sat opposite his place, one hand wrapped around the handle of your mug and the other pulled up to your mouth, your teeth nibbling the side of your nail.
“You’ll make your thumb sore.” He lingered in the doorway like he wasn’t sure if he should sit down or run away. You dropped your hand and placed a more welcoming smile on your lips, nodding to the plate.
“Chicken and bacon pasta bake. It’s good.” You invited. Hesitantly, Leon shuffled to the chair and sat down. You didn’t push him to talk. Months of being with Leon had assured you that pushing would only clam him up further, and you wanted to pry him open tonight. With a sinking feeling, you realised it might be the last night you ever saw him. He’d let himself be extremely vulnerable to you already and you weren’t the type of person to see this kind of trauma and let it go unchecked. You’d want to check in on him, you’d want to help him feel better, and Leon didn’t appreciate the questions you’d have to ask to get the kind of help he needed right. He sighed slightly, picking up the fork and taking a small bite. He looked physically sick for the first few mouthfuls, and you made an effort to distract him with small talk about the weather, your day and all its mundane happenings.
He seemed enraptured by your very voice, soaking in every syllable that crossed your lips and mindlessly working his arm and mouth to clear the plate and drain the mug in front of him.
“Can I have a bit more? It’s really good.” He surprised you with his request but you obliged him, spooning some more on his plate.
“If you’re that partial to it you can take some home to.” You said simply. He nodded once, clearing the second portion with ease and looking much better for it. The colour had returned to his cheeks and he looked a little more put together than before. You settled back in your chair, watched him clean his plate and put it in the drying rack. It was a courtesy you’d never have asked for but were grateful for nonetheless. He didn’t turn around though, keeping his back to you and tightening his grip on the countertop.
#resident evil#resident evil fanfiction#leon s kennedy#female reader#leon kennedy x female reader#angsty#tw ptsd#part 1
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annoyances and nosebleeds
Summary: In which you really hate Tōru Oikawa (or, more accurately, the time you realized that may not be entirely true).
A/N: this is my first haikyuu fic, so pls be very gentle with me! let me know what you think!
If there was one thing you knew with utmost certainty, it was that Tōru Oikawa was the single most annoying person you’d ever met.
Not only did his gaggle of fangirls make you late for class at least once a week, blocking nearly the entire hallway as they giggled and whispered among themselves about who was giving Oikawa a present this time, but the boy himself was arguably more obnoxious— if that was even humanly possible.
He was aggravating and smug, always teasing you about his higher grades and poking and prodding at you for being single. So what if maybe, sometimes— on very rare occasions— you found his smile kinda cute in a “I want to punch him in the face” sort of way? You hated him and no amount of charm was ever going to solve that.
Right?
Your heart raced as your teacher worked through the list of partnerships for an upcoming project, leg bouncing restless as you waited, breath caught in your throat. As you heard your name being called, you prayed to whoever would listen that you wouldn’t end up with him.
Across the room, Oikawa was working through a similar internal monologue. He hated you in equal measure, that much was true. He hated your stick-in-the-mud attitude and the way you rubbed your grades in his face. He hated the way you glared at him and his fangirls in the hallways or the way you made a point of congratulating Iwa-chan on volleyball wins, but refused to do the same for him.
He hated the confident lilt in your voice when you contributed something in class and the bright, almost blinding, light of your smile as you laughed with your friends at lunch. Well, maybe ignore that last part. Oikawa hated you. Plain and simple.
“... you will be working with Oikawa.”
Oikawa heard Iwaizumi and Makki snickering at the news, sending him teasing glances as they joked about his bad luck. Oh, if looks could kill.
Meanwhile, you’d decided that today, and the next two weeks where you’d be subjected to Oikawa’s company, was about to be the lowest point of your life. You couldn’t wait.
The moment the bell rang, signaling the end of an incredibly long day, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Oikawa sauntered over to your desk, teasing smirk already on his face.
This was gonna be good.
“It seems the tides of fate have blessed us both, hmm.” The way he spoke your name, tacking on a sarcastic honorific as he put on a front of sweetness, made your stomach churn.
“Trust me, Oikawa,” you bit back, closing your notebooks as you packed your things, “I don’t like this anymore than you do.”
He pouted, planting his hands on either side of your desk, leaning down to invade your line of vision, “I don’t know. I think you do. You are secretly in love with me, after all.”
He watched in amusement as your face contorted in disgust, “and lest we forget I am smarter than you.”
“Bold words from someone who took a volleyball to the face last week.” You refused to look at him, shoving the rest of your things in your bag in an attempt to make this conversation as short as possible.
Your words only seemed to spur him on though. You could practically hear the way he was smirking, the bastard. “Hey, I thought you said you don’t come to our practices with all of my… hmmm, what did you call them again? Fangirls, was it?”
As you zipped your bag, he leaned over again, this time successfully getting you to look at him, “Are you a fangirl?”
With a huff, you stood from your seat, brushing your shoulder against Oikawa’s as you moved towards the classroom door. “I would rather keel over and die, Oikawa. Don’t flatter yourself.”
He caught up with you quickly, falling into stride with you as he shot a hand up to grip at his chest, “You wound me. I don’t think I can possibly go on.”
“Good,” you spoke resolutely. “Listen, I don’t want to talk to you any longer than I have to, so let’s make this as painless as possible. Just meet me in the library when you get out of practice.”
Without so much as a backward glance, you clicked your locker shut and ventured off, completely ignoring the mocking words Oikawa threw your way, whining about how he could really feel the love from where he was standing. Asshole.
The first meeting went about as well as you’d expected, with Oikawa arriving well after when you knew volleyball ended, seemingly more interested in making you suffer than he was in actually getting work done.
“Will you quit it? I’m not carrying this whole thing because you’re too lazy to do anything.”
He had his head resting in his palm, eyes memorizing the little crease between your brows as you got more angry. He wasn’t really listening to you and you could tell.
Sighing, you pressed two fingers against the inner corners of your eyes. “I hate you. Have I told you that yet today?”
“You might’ve once or twice. Or a hundred times. I’ve started to lose count,” he replied with a playful smile.
The next few meetings carried on much the same. You met with Oikawa after volleyball practice, you would get about an hour of work done before he began picking on you again, doodling on your papers or teasing you about being in love with him, and then you’d go home and complain about him to your friends.
Your life fell into an incredibly mundane cycle— go to school, meet with Oikawa, go home, and do homework— day in and day out. Until one particularly bad day sent you reeling, in more ways than one. You’d woken up late, forgotten an assignment, failed a test, and that was only the beginning of a very long list of grievances. It was overwhelming, to say the least. You’d been feeling the academic pressure for weeks; as if you had a storm cloud looming over you, invading your mind and making it harder and harder to work on your homework. You knew what needed to be done, but it never seemed like it was good enough, especially not today.
So, as you sat and waited for Oikawa’s practice to end, you allowed yourself to cry. Dark clouds usually meant rain, didn’t they? Hot, wet tears cascaded down your cheeks, slipping off your chin only to splatter across your papers, smearing the ink as they went. Furiously, you attempted to stop the flow, wiping tear after tear away until you finally resigned yourself to the pathetic mental image of what you must look like— alone, crying in some back corner of the library as you tried to muffle the hiccups that threatened to spill from your mouth.
In your flurry of emotions, you failed to hear the muffled thud of sneakers along the carpet.
“Hey,” a gentle voice called out, “you okay?”
Oikawa.
Bile slipped up the back of your throat at the idea of being caught by him, the sound of his voice nearly reinvigorating your tears as humiliation burned your skin. Barely able to muster the courage to speak, you simply nodded your head, wiping the remaining tears with the soft sleeve of your sweater.
Picking up your pen and completely ignoring the uneven sound of your voice, you began taking notes again. “Let’s just get to work.”
Oikawa was quick to sink into the seat across from you, mind reeling at what he’d just seen. His mouth fell open as he watched you, eyes still glassy, as your pen glided across your notebook.
You had just been crying. You didn’t really expect him to just carry on with the project, to just ignore the distress he’d walked in on, did you?
He gave you a hard time, pushing your buttons and making fun of you, but all along he’d assumed it was little more than hatred— physical and verbal manifestations of how frustrated he was that you wouldn’t give him the time of day. Now, with concern gripping at his chest after having seen you fall apart, he wasn’t quite sure what to think anymore.
“You’re not really about to act like nothing happened, are you?” A mirthless chuckle sounding from his throat, a tentative hand reaching out to stop your pen. “I know you think I’m an idiot, but this is downright insulting.”
“What do you want me to say, Oikawa? Don’t act like you’re some knight in shining armor after all this time.
Ow.
“I’m not heartless. Tell me what’s wrong.”
His words were short, leaving absolutely no room for debate. It was now or never.
“I’ve just felt a lot of academic pressure recently, that’s all.”
Oikawa nodded along and for once in his life, seemed to be genuinely listening to you. His hand hadn’t left yours.
“And?” He urged you to continue, leaning in slightly to take in your words.
“It’s just been a lot. I get good grades, sure, but it never seems good enough.”
Oikawa’s eyes widened, your words sounding all too familiar. He’d had these exact conversations with himself as he sat in front of his TV, watching volleyball footage over and over again. He was good, but there was always someone better. He knew how exhausting that could be, knew— too well — that nagging feeling of worthlessness despite hard work.
Maybe you weren’t so different after all.
“I feel like that sometimes too,” a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it squeeze of your hand, “maybe we can learn together.”
You didn’t respond, you weren’t sure you could. It was as if the entire image of Oikawa you’d crafted was crumbling, fragments of hatred tumbling to the sides to reveal, what you could only assume was the real him. And in this moment, though you’d never admit it, you were grateful.
You nodded, “I think I’d like that.”
Oikawa had to bite back a jest, some ridiculous passing comment about how he knew that you’d been in love with him all along, but he didn’t in favor of savoring the gentle smile you’d graced him with.
The rest of your little meetings were amenable and your encounters in the school hallways even more so. It wasn’t a complete 180, but it was definitely noticeable.
Your friends caught on to the shy smile on your face after Oikawa shot a wave in your direction and practically the entire volleyball team had seen Oikawa blush after he’d seen you at lunch one day. And both groups were going to get to the bottom of it if it killed them.
“You were at each other’s throats literally just last week,” your friend groaned, sending pieces of popcorn across the table and into your hair. “What the hell happened?”
“I told you, it’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” your other friend piped in. “You actually considered going to volleyball practice the other day. You’ve never gone willingly.”
“And, you actually smiled at him in the hallway!”
You brought your voice down to a whisper, not wanting to be overheard talking about something so stupid, “I don’t like Oikawa. He’s annoying and full of himself. You guys are seeing things.”
They were unconvinced.
Oikawa hadn’t been faring much better.
“Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi smirked, “you sure changed your tune.”
Oikawa rolled his eyes. “What’re you talking about?”
Iwaizumi pitched his voice up, a poor rendition of his best friend, “I can’t stand them Iwa-can~ How am I ever going to survive?” He dropped the act seconds later, elbowing the other player in the ribs, “Meanwhile you actually seem to enjoy doing this project with them.”
Makki and Mattsun laughed along before Mattsun interjected, “Don’t forget the blush!”
“Oh,” Makki howled, “how could we forget? He looked like a pink highlighter.”
All Oikawa could do was huff. “I don’t like them.”
And boy was he wrong.
With the project coming to an end, Oikawa laid awake, staring at his ceiling as he thought about how exactly he’d spend his time now that you weren’t meeting with him in the library every afternoon. Would you keep hanging out? Would you come to his games? What if you stopped smiling at him in school, returning to the bitter back-and-forths that had been so common before?
Oikawa shot up in bed, chest heaving and eyes wide. He liked you.
Oh no.
Across town, cuddled under the comforter in your own bedroom, you thought about Oikawa— as you had been most nights since you became partners. As your mind wandered, you realized that by now, you’d memorized the color of his eyes and that you could decipher exactly which of his smiles were genuine and which weren’t. You smiled as you thought about the feeling of your hand in his, about how warm his skin had felt against your own.
Your heart was in your throat. You were heading down a point of no return, one in which only humiliation awaited you. You liked Tōru Oikawa.
How cruel.
On your walk to school the following day, you’d decided that avoiding him would be the easiest option from here on out. The project was done and you were saving yourself the embarrassment of falling for someone who clearly would never be interested. You’d convinced yourself that day in the library had been a fluke, a trick of the light. He didn’t like you.
You ducked out of sight when he was about to pass in the halls, you pointedly looked elsewhere during class— whatever you could to suppress whatever feelings you had for him. All the while blissfully unaware of the effect you were having on the setter.
He knew this would happen, knew that the moment the project was submitted you’d begin to act differently, but he hadn’t thought you’d ignore him entirely. He almost missed the biting tone of voice you used whenever you scolded him, at least then you were looking at him, speaking to him.
He’d been so out of focus that during practice he’d taken one of Iwaizumi’s spikes directly to the face, sending blood dribbling down from his nose.
“Go take a walk,” Iwaizumi demanded, waving a hand in the direction of the door. “You’re no good if you’re just gonna stand there like a love-sick puppy.”
Sighing in defeat, Oikawa headed off, pinching the bridge of his nose as he went. His feet carried him along the tile, looping through hallways until he found himself outside of the library. You wouldn’t be in there, right? You didn’t really have any reason to be, not anymore.
Whatever.
Body on autopilot, he followed the familiar path, counting stacks as he walked along the main aisle. Rounding the final corner and expecting to be disappointed, he pinched his nose harder.
You let out a squeak at the sight of Oikawa, supposedly in the midst of volleyball practice, emerging from the stacks like a zombie, nose bloodied, face red and shiny with sweat.
“What are you-”
“I like you. A lot.” He had no idea where the words came from, but he wasn’t about to take them back now.
“Ha ha, very funny. You haven’t used that one before.”
A look crossed Oikawa’s face— one you hadn’t seen since the day he’d caught you crying.
Sincerity.
Your stomach flipped, “You’re not joking.”
He shook his head, using the back of his hand to wipe away the blood that was still steadily trickling from his nose.
Oh.
“I like you too.”
A smirk crossed Oikawa’s face, a joking lilt taking over his serious tone, “I knew it.”
You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, bringing a hand up to rub your thumb against his cheekbone. It was sticky with sweat, but it was either that or landing a kiss to his lips and interrupting his nosebleed. Gross.
“Wanna meet me back here after practice?”
“God, yes.”
#oikawa x reader#oikawa imagine#tōru oikawa x reader#tōru oikawa imagine#haikyuu imagine#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#hq imagine#enemies to lovers !!#idiots in love !!
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A Voyage - And the Letters That Followed (2/3)
Inazuma was close, there was no doubt. The clouds, once harmless in appearance, were forming a funnel overhead; one cast in an eerie, violet glow.
Kazuha stood at the helm of the ship, brow furrowed. He had been glued to this spot for practically the entire day, hoping the wind would speak to him and give some context as to what they should expect.
A bout of rain quickly began drizzling over his head and shoulders, and the gust that followed nearly left him soaked. This was nothing, though. They hadn’t even gotten to the thick of the storm encasing his homeland.
”What’s your consensus, Kazuha?” Beidou asked from the stairs just behind him, and he turned to face her.
”The breeze is cool, but the air is warm. It will only be another five miles before we hit our first thunderstorm. The currents below are starting to become more violent, as well.”
”I don’t know if it was fate or a miracle that we found you, kid. But I trust your judgment,” Beidou replied, then whipped around and shouted, “All hands on deck! If you’re not gripping a rope or patching something up you’d better be in the next five minutes!”
”How can we help, Beidou?” Lumine, having been on deck, asked as she and Paimon made their way over to the captain.
“Don’t fall overboard,” she replied bluntly. “It’s gonna be a bumpy ride, traveler. If you really wanna help, you can use those anemo abilities of yours and help throw water off the deck when the waves start crashing down.”
”Aye, aye!” Paimon cried out, which was emphasized by her attempt at a formal salute. All at once, the ship violently tilted forward, sending Paimon and Lumine flying right into Beidou who managed to steady them.
”Brace yourselves,” Kazuha called over his shoulder, he himself swaying backward as the ship made another violent dip. An oncoming wave rushed over the bow of the Alcor, which was followed by a crack of lightning off to the ship’s right.
”Just gonna guess that the Archon isn’t pleased about us being in these waters,” Beidou shouted amidst the commotion, rushing over to the helmsman Huixing and relieving him of his position at the wheel so she may take over. “Which way, Kazuha?” she then demanded, her grip like steel.
Kazuha quickly quieted the world around him so he may focus on the moisture in the air and the rush of the water beneath his feet. The static-like current they were atop of at present was using all of its might to push them backward and away from Inazuma, with no evidence of any heading in the opposite direction.
”It’s no use trying to rely on the elements, the storm is actively repelling us,” the ronin relayed to Beidou, then turned and made a beeline for the sails of the ship. “We’re going to need as much propulsion as possible if we hope to get out of this particular area,” he told the captain as he rushed by her.
”Do what you must!” Beidou answered, growling as she kept the wheel steady.
Quickly scaling the mast, Kazuha came to stop at a certain spot amidst the larger of the Alcor’s sails. He then focused his anemo energy on sending a blast of wind directly into it; the force of the action resulting in nearly all of the crew toppling over.
”Again!” Beidou shouted, the samurai obeying her at once. Lightning struck through the air just above the ship, another bolt firing directly ahead. The waves continued to push against the vessel all the while, but it was finally powering over and through them.
Then, without warning, a tidal wave the size of small mountain began looming a little less than a mile ahead, its course aimed directly at the Alcor.
”EVERYONE, HANG ON!” Beidou screamed, then ducked as the behemoth of a wave rushed over the entire ship. Kazuha was high enough off the deck to not feel the entire impact, but it still sent him wavering from where he held onto the mast. As he peered below once the water had tapered off, he noticed most of the crew in their same positions, and Beidou still holding onto the wheel for dear life.
Of course, not even a storm of this caliber could put the Crux out of commission.
”Lumine!!” a squeaky voice suddenly wailed, and the blood in Kazuha’s veins froze. His eyes darted to the source of the cry, finding Paimon scrambling by the edge of the ship’s starboard side.
And there, splashing helplessly amidst the deadly sea below, was the girl in question - her blonde head barely managing to stay above the waves.
”Lumine!” Kazuha cried out in a manner most unlike him, wasting no time in jumping down from the mast to run over to where the traveler had been thrown off. Paimon was evidently panicking, looking like she herself wanted to dive in to rescue her friend.
”Traveler overboard!” came the resounding bellow of Juza from center deck, getting everyone’s attention at once. Beidou, who was still trying to keep the Alcor from veering, looked horrified as she glanced over her shoulder and toward Kazuha.
“I’m coming, Lumine! Hang on!” Kazuha shouted to the girl, reaching for some spare rope nearby and tying it around his waist. Handing the end of the rope to one of the nearby crew, he climbed up onto the ship’s edge and dove headfirst into the sea without hesitation.
Thankfully the Alcor was still moving relatively slow against the onslaught of waves, and so the samurai managed to reach Lumine after swimming only a few yards. The young woman was struggling to stay afloat, her hand reaching towards him even as the top half of her body sunk. Grabbing for her, he hauled the traveler into his arms, her head coming to rest in the crook of his neck as she coughed and attempted to catch her breath.
”K-Kazuha…” she weakly rasped.
”He got her!” he could heard Paimon cheer, along with the remainder of the Crux shortly thereafter. The rope at Kazuha’s waist began yanking at him, tugging the pair over the waves and back towards the Alcor.
“Alright! Give them some room to breathe, you lot,” Beidou harped at her crew as she hurried over, for the latter had crowded around Kazuha and Lumine the moment they were pulled back onto the deck. “You alright, traveler?” she questioned the girl, who was still cradled in Kazuha’s arms and shivering.
”C-cold,” Lumine managed to breathe, her eyelids drooping. Kazuha frowned at the pale color of her cheeks and lips.
”I’ll take her to her quarters and get her something warm to drink,” he offered, not minding that he himself was also soaked to the bone. “What’s our status, Beidou?” he then asked, as the storm they had managed to power through had dissipated for the moment.
”The Alcor is a bit beat up from that last wave, which will put us a day behind, damn it all,” Beidou answered with a sneer. “We’ll slow down and handle necessary repairs, just make sure Lumine is taken care of.”
”I’ll help too!” Paimon butted in, hovering at her friend’s side with a determined expression. Kazuha nodded once, and, carrying Lumine in his arms, brought the girl and her guide down to their quarters.
”Paimon, would you mind brewing some tea? I believe there’s a box of tea leaves on one of the top shelves of the larder,” he asked the small being, who agreed at once and hurried off. Meanwhile, he set Lumine down on the bed, who was still shaking rather aggressively.
”Forgive my forwardness, but we should probably get you out of those clothes before you catch cold,” Kazuha told her sheepishly. Turning toward the door, he continued, “I have a spare yukata you can borrow for the time being, it’ll keep you comfortable enough for your temperature to return to normal.”
He could sense the confusion on Lumine’s face without even looking her way. “You-wha-ha?” she muttered.
”Yukata,” Kazuha corrected with a laugh. “It’s a type of Inazuman wear, mostly for lounging. Go ahead and dress down, I’ll grab it for you and leave it at the door, then you may change while I go check on Paimon’s progress with the tea.”
”…Kazuha?” Lumine, in a quiet, unsure voice, called to him just as he was reaching out to open the door. His breath caught and he froze in place, before glancing over his shoulder at her.
“Thank you. For rescuing me,” she spoke sincerely, eyes tired but so bright.
The young man felt a foreign yet familiar warmth blooming in his chest, and surely it matched the expression he currently wore on his face. “But of course, Lumine.” he softly replied, finally taking his leave. He tried not to ponder on the exchange too much as he went to retrieve the spare yukata, returning only to leave it at the traveler’s door.
“Um. I may need help with this. I’ve watched Lumine do it countless times but I don’t really pay attention to the process when it comes to food,” Paimon chuckled nervously when Kazuha found her in the recreational area. Though the tiny girl had managed to gather a teapot, leaves, and water, the closed flame she was attempting to start was non-existent.
”Lucky you have her to help satiate your constant appetite, eh?” the samurai smiled. Paimon looked affronted, but he pretended to not notice her huff of annoyance as he went to retrieve a piece of flint and a lone sword propped up against the wall. Aiming the sword down towards the enclosed fire pit in the room, he struck the flint against it, sending sparks into the wood and quickly forming a small blaze. Once the tea was prepped and brewed Kazuha returned to Lumine’s room, knocking once to alert her of his presence - but there was no response.
Nudging the door open slightly, he discovered that the (understandably exhausted) young woman had fallen asleep in his absence and was curled up on the top covers of her bed, breathing softly. The yukata, a pale red color, was quite long on her body and a little baggy - but even so, seeing her like this…
”A heart beats once more
The ember I once thought snuffed
Kindling deep within…”
The words came to him without any effort, and Kazuha sighed as he went to set the tea down on the bedside table. He was impossibly gentle in unshering Lumine under the covers of her bed and tucking her in, knowing she needed to stay as warm as possible for the time being.
”I have the worst luck,” he chuckled sadly under his breath, brushing the hair out of her face with the tips of his fingers. “Only I of all people would end up pining for the stars.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In total, the Alcor ended up hitting five more thunderstorms during the journey, though the ship and its inhabitants were far better prepared after the first runaround. Kazuha assisted where he could; helping Beidou choose the smoothest course based on weather patterns and the like.
Ultimately, though, he spent most of his time below deck, visiting with Lumine and bringing her necessities. The girl had come down with a cold and slight fever since falling overboard, and he was determined to see her better before they dropped her off in the port of Ritou.
The night before their final push for Inazuma, he went down to the guest’s quarters to change out Lumine’s forehead cloth and bring her more tea, but found with slight alarm that the traveler was nowhere to be found. Paimon was sound asleep and snoring in her makeshift hammock hanging from the ceiling, and obviously hadn’t been disturbed.
Retreating from the room, the young man made a quick search throughout the remaining cabins below deck, and finally the recreational area. Lumine wasn’t anywhere to be found, which could only mean she had ascended to the main deck at some point.
”Lookin’ for blondie? She’s over by the stern. Said she was feeling well enough to be outside,” Sea Drake relayed to him once he appeared from below, jabbing a thumb in said direction. Sure enough, Kazuha could see a familiar head of blonde hair near the railing as he approached.
”Lumine, you should be resting. We only have another half day or so before we reach port,” Kazuha spoke worriedly, startling the girl out of her reverie. She turned to look up at him, for she had been gazing out at the tempest drifting behind them from where she was seated.
“I’m okay, really,” she promised with a smile, then patted at the spot next to her, inviting him to join. “I just needed some fresh air, it was getting a little too claustrophobic in my room.”
”Even so, I worry you may not recover completely in time for your departure,” Kazuha muttered, crossing his arms as he took the proffered seat next to the traveler.
Lumine didn’t seem to hear him though, her eyes returning to the indigo horizon. For a while it was silent, the only noise coming from the crew at their various stations.
“I’ve dreamt quite a bit since I’ve been confined to bed. Restless dreams.” Lumine suddenly spoke, her hands fiddling with the sleeve of her borrowed yukata. “I keep dreaming of the encounter I had with my brother just before I found you and Beidou.”
The ronin was shocked to hear such. “I didn’t know you had already found your twin,” he inquired. Lumine simply shrugged.
”It… wasn’t pleasant.” She took a moment, perhaps to collect her thoughts, then let out a deep breath. “As it would turn out, he’s leader of a group of individuals who are actively working to bring chaos to Teyvat. But that didn’t matter to me at first. I… I was just so relieved to finally be able to see him again after so long. I wanted to ask him so many things; share with him the discoveries I’ve made and all the people I’ve met. But he treated me like a roach, a nuisance - he didn’t even smile at me or attempt to listen. He didn’t even…”
The small hiccup Kazuha ended up hearing wasn’t his imagination. He glanced at Lumine, and his heart sunk when he saw tears in her eyes, twinkling under the faint moonlight.
“Here I am, doing everything in my power to travel to yet another land, a dangerous one, for his sake; but is it even worth it? If what he wanted me to discover for myself was so important, why couldn’t he just tell me? Why would he side with people who are actively trying to harm me? Just…why?” The girl’s head fell into her hands, and she quickly began to sob. Kazuha was at a loss of what to do, but that quickly changed when Lumine turned and threw her arms around him, to his utter surprise.
”Lumine…” he murmured, pausing a moment before returning her embrace and resting his chin on the crown of her head.
“I just feel so lost,” she cried into his chest. “Aether and I have always been together. We’ve always been one mind, one soul in everything we’ve decided, all the places we’ve traversed. What is the point of this journey if I won’t even have the person I called brother in the end?”
Her companion didn’t answer, at least not at first. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about life… it’s that the course laid out for you can shift at any moment, and that you should take the experiences that follow in stride.” When Lumine only sniffled in response, he added, “Being a wandering fugitive with the desire to see a Vision reborn was not in the stars for me once upon a time. I was to be the head of the Kaedehara clan, an elitist by all accounts.”
Feeling brave in that moment, Kazuha pulled away from the traveler slightly and carefully cupped her heart-shaped face in his hands, brushing at the moisture on her cheeks with his thumbs. Her golden stare was both hypnotizing and heartbreaking all at once.
“I cannot speak for your brother and his ambitions… but if you so desire to be reunited, then don’t give up, Lumine. The picture may not be clear right now, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be in time. And along the way… you can ruminate on everything you encounter. Perhaps you too will find seeds of aspiration you hope to blossom.”
Lumine seemed to take his words to heart, if her silence said anything. “Perhaps…” she finally whispered, her hand reaching up to cover his own, the other scrubbing at her eyes. “Thank you, Kazuha… and… sorry, for breaking down on you like that.”
”Nonsense. Should you ever need an ear, or a shoulder, I am here,” he said with a smile. “We should probably get you back to your room, however. I would hate to see you start your next chapter with the remnants of a col-“
He was unable to finish his sentence; as Lumine had crawled forward to slip her arms around his waist once again and squeeze, resting her head right against his (likely pounding) heart.
”Let’s stay like this for a little longer… please.” she breathed, and Kazuha simply couldn’t refuse her. Holding her close, he instead dug into the forgotten corners of his memory; humming a long-lost lullaby into her hair and gently rocking them to the tempo of the waves.
And if the crew mocked him later on for being a lovesick fool; well, so be it.
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the crimson shell
— pairing: jungkook x f!reader
— genre: mermaid au, yandere au
— w.c: 1.9k
— warnings: mild stalking, near drowning, mentions of eating humans
— notes: just wanted to contribute something to mermay! this is also my first time attempting to do anything in the realms of yandere (and mermaids!), so pls be nice lol. in this universe everyone is referred to as a mermaid, no matter what gender they are. this will most likely be a two or three part series with jk growing more and more obsessed as he gets y/n into his scaly clutches :)
Part I / II / III / IIII
— summary: you had always found comfort in being at the beach, often spending hours just watching the waves lap against the shore. but unbeknowst to you – something had been watching you back.
You inhale deeply, enjoying the salty smell that so uniquely belongs to the ocean. The last rays of sun are slowly disappearing behind the horizon, painting the skies and the waves in hues of deep pink and purple. You’re going to miss this view.
You sigh, running your fingers through the coarse sand as you let the gentle breeze caress your face. You’ve been looking forward to this for years, but now that your departure is so imminent, it feels more scary than liberating. The time has come to finally leave your home behind, and you feel a pang of regret as you realize you might not see your friends or family for a very long time to come.
Years of saving up your measly paychecks have finally paid off, and you’re setting sail for an island you’ve been hearing constant murmurs about for the last few months. Originally, you were only going to travel to the next kingdom over, hoping to find more suitable work there to help your parents stay afloat. But the talk of the mystery island abundant with riches piped your interest more than you would like to admit – and you’ve never been one to shy away from adventure.
However, you weren’t stupid enough to just blindly trust the rumours milling around your little town. In fact, you wholeheartedly believed it to be a scam until a familiar face suddenly turned up in the town square only a few weeks ago.
You hadn’t seen Jimin ever since he set sail for the unknown six months ago; and so everyone, including yourself, had presumed that your talkative neighbour had met an ill fate, and was floating at the bottom of the sea. You realized you couldn’t have been more wrong when Jimin returned with riches you never expected you would ever lay eyes on, his whole body adorned with various diamonds and gold chains.
It was Jimin who had urged you to seek out the same island, saying he barely even took a handful of all the treasures that were there. He had warned you about a price that would need to be paid, but you weren’t all that concerned. If a sea witch wanted your first born, then fine, you weren’t too keen on children anyway.
You busy yourself with drawing patterns in the sand, lost in your own thoughts as you try to remember your little mental checklist of all the things you wanted to see before you left tomorrow morning. You’re pretty sure this beach was the last one. It’s not much; just a short stretch of sand at the edge of the hill leading up to your family’s cottage, but it has always felt like home.
You come here every evening without fail, using the time to relax and breathe. The last month has felt a little different though, even if you don’t like to admit it. You’ve always stayed on the beach quite late, there’s nothing you know of that can rival the starry sky that appears once the sun had set. But lately, you’ve found yourself retreating back up the hill before the night could fully greet you.
It feels like you’re being watched.
It’s silly of course, considering the only thing in front of you is the quiet ocean. You would have noticed if there was something there, but still, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that something is out there – observing you.
It always happens so suddenly; one second you’ll be merely enjoying the view, and in the next, a sense of dread would knock into you so hard it left you breathless. It would make your neck feel tight, as if someone was gripping your skin, and the hair on your arms would rise in alarm.
Even just the memory is enough to give you goosebumps, and you let out an annoyed huff at how easily you seem to be able to scare yourself. You dust the sand off your hands before you rub them up and down your arms, trying to calm down the twinge of anxiety that’s slowly spreading through your body.
You don’t want to remember your last night here as something uncomfortable, so you let your gaze sweep over the beach one last time.
Something catches your eye just as you’re about to turn. Something red is ebbing and flowing along with the waves, and you hesitantly step forward until you can see it clearer. It’s nothing more than a pretty shell, but you’ve never seen that tone of red before. You snatch it up from the water before the tide can pull it out, slowly turning it back and forth to study it. The last sliver of light seems to catch on to it just right, giving the red a gorgeous golden shimmer.
You let out a low gasp of wonder, trailing your fingers along the scalloped pattern. It’s stunning, and you can’t help but think that it’s the beach’s way of saying its last goodbye. Maybe it was giving you a parting gift.
You clutch the shell gently in your hand, a soft ‘thank you’ slipping past your lips as you watch the ocean fondly. You notice a few sudden ripples in the quiet sea a little further out from the beach, but it has started to grow so dark that it’s impossible to make out anything below the soft waves. Chalking it up to just being fish, you shrug it off, finally turning on your heel to walk back up the hill to your family’s little cottage.
--
You’ve officially been on the sea for a week, and you’ve already grown tired. The small group of fellow villagers that you left with have already started getting on your nerves, and you’re not sure how you’re going to make it all the way to the island and back without going insane. Jimin said you would need to travel north for about two weeks, so you try to find solace in the fact that you’re halfway there already.
The journey so far has been pretty smooth, but the dark clouds on the horizon seem to be rolling towards you at an alarming speed. You dig into the pocket of your trousers, finding comfort in running your fingers along the shell you found on your beach. You can only hope it serves as a token of good luck, because the storm heading straight for you really doesn’t look good at all.
It feels like you only blink before the rain is pelting down against the ship, harsh waves tossing the wooden boat back and forth to its whims. You’re clinging on the side with all of your might, but the floor has turned wet and slippery, and it makes it even harder to stay on board with all the vicious tossing and turning.
You feel the electricity before it hits, the static making your hair stand up straight right before a bolt of lightning slams into the mast. You can barely hear the loud creak of wood over the screams from the other travellers, you gaze transfixed on the large wooden pole as it starts tipping.
You’re frozen in place; all of your muscles locking up in terror as you realize the mast is coming straight at you. You’ll be crushed in you don’t move, but you can’t. You close your eyes instinctively as the looming shadow rushes towards you, harshly sucking in one last breath of air. You feel the ship lurch, and your fingers slip from the bars you were clinging to as you’re tossed overboard.
A blanket of silence wraps around you the moment you hit the water, all of the screaming and creaking of wood suddenly ceasing as the cold liquid mercilessly drags you downwards. You can see the shadow of the ship growing smaller and smaller, your last breath escaping you as it bubbles up towards the surface.
You flail your hands desperately, your body too low on air to properly function. Swim, swim, swim! Your mind is screaming, but your heart has already accepted the rush of water filling your lungs, and the heavy feeling in your bones.
Your vision grows hazy, the blues and greys of the ocean blurring together. A streak of red suddenly breezes by your line of sight, but your tired brain only managing to provide you with the fleeting thought of fish? before the exhaustion truly sets in. You can hear a low series of muddled clicking noises all around you, but it only seems to make you even more drowsy.
Sleep, a deep voice whispers in the back of your mind. And slowly but surely, all of the mixed colours fade into nothingness.
--
It wasn’t that hard for the mermaid to steer your ship in the wrong direction. The ship was in his waters, under his control, and the storm that suddenly picked up in the northeast presented itself like the perfect opportunity.
He had been trailing after your ship ever since it left the dock, making sure he could strike at the right moment. He couldn’t believe the weird creature he had been watching for months was finally coming willingly to him, but it was only right considering you had accepted his courting gift.
And now, as you were sinking to the bottom of the sea, you were finally his. The mermaid circled you excitedly at a distance as your limbs flailed around underwater. He tried to tell you to calm down – that the fight against his ocean was futile – but you just wouldn’t stop trying.
The mermaid bristled in annoyance, his crimson tail cutting through the sea harshly as he watched the stupid creature fight a losing battle. He needed to take it home now, before his brothers could realize it was here.
Finally, your body stopped moving. The mermaid quickly closed in, strong arms wrapping around your torso as he stared into your unfocused eyes. While he didn’t exactly know what you were, and why you had one limb too many, he had at least gathered enough information to understand that you needed to breathe in that pesky air in order to survive.
He pushed up, letting the currents easily carry him up towards the surface. Of course, he made sure to emerge far from the sinking ship. While the gurgling screams usually were music to his ears – he couldn’t keep you too close to the food. His brothers would be here in no time to feast, and he couldn’t let his new pet be swallowed up before he even had a chance to play with it.
The creature sucked in a shuddering breath as oxygen finally flowed through its veins again. It didn’t take long before all his precious water was being expelled from the creature’s lungs, the mermaid watching in displeasure as it was replaced with that wretched air instead. It just seemed so .. inconvenient.
You didn’t wake however, the near drowning having swept away all of your energy. The mermaid threw one last look towards the remains of the ship, thin lips curling into a pout as the gurgling was replaced by bloody shrieks. He was hungry too, but it seemed like it would have to wait until his pet was out of harm’s way.
Well, at least until it was out of his brothers’ way. The mermaid didn’t like making promises he wasn’t certain he could keep.
#mermaid bts#mermaid au#mermaid jungkook#jungkook x reader#yandere bts#yandere au#yandere jungkook#jungkook au#bts au#bts fanfic#bts#yandere x reader
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broken umbrella ⤖ han jisung
❖ genre : high school au; fluff
❖ word count : 1,6k.
❖ warning : explicit language
❖ summary : a typical day in your life starts with having candies poured over your head and ends with breaking han jisung’s umbrella.
❖ note : I wanted to write smth dumb okay-
one.
Jisung gives his desk a harsh kick, one that does no good in releasing his inner storm, only to wince in pain later because he’s an idiot.
Classes have been somewhat less than boring these days, partially because his mind is occupied with thoughts of you half of the time and partially because…well, more thoughts of you. Oh wait, today is a little different than usual considering the fact that you did not give him a proper response.
To what?
Putting it simply, he woke up early this morning to go over his routine more thoroughly—styling his hair, making sure that his tie isn’t sloppy-looking, and spraying himself with his brother’s cologne. He doesn’t usually care for any one of those things until junior starts and you show up. Call him desperate, or delusional, or childish even but it truly felt like fate when you two first encountered each other.
“Yeah right, fate,” Hyunjin snickers loudly, swirling a strawberry-flavored lollipop inside his mouth. “You meant when you fell on your ass on the bus the other day and you accidentally grabbed her collar?”
Jisung feels his cheeks heat up thanks to his friend’s less than necessary comment. “Shut the fuck up, you’re just jealous.” It was great. Not only did he fall head over heels for you, but he also left a bad impression.
Back to the point. All of his hard work this morning is reduced to nothing because of the rain. His hair is messed up, his uniform looks sloppy, and his shoes are covered in mud from skipping through puddles. Not to mention, he showed up timely enough to be there when you opened your locker, having various candies and sweets poured down your head, scattered all over the hallway.
Yeji should have told him you didn’t like sweet things yesterday, damn it. Because he’s never seen you giving him that look before. The look that makes him believe you will make him experience torment and pain, begging for the mercy that never comes—make his life a living hell basically.
“How did your plan go, by the way?” His friend asks out of boredom.
“Fantastic,” he replies under his breath when everything is, in fact, not fantastic.
Hyunjin tilts his head. “Did she know?”
“Know what? That I’m in love with her? I mean I wasn’t trying to be subtle or anything-“
“No, did she know that it was gonna rain today?”
Shrugging, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in exhaustion; forty-five minutes periods should be illegal. “Why does that matter?”
“Hey, Han!”
Jisung turns his head to the voice and sees Felix sliding the door to his classroom open, uneven breaths as if he’s been running for his life while holding two umbrellas in his arms. He glances at his friend’s state with a grimace, head cocked to the side in confusion. Luckily, no one really spends recess in class except for loners like himself anyway. “What are you doing?”
“Y/N didn’t bring an umbrella!” The freckled boy exclaims with excitement, only able to coax an amused hum from Hyunjin. “But you have an umbrella, and it’s still raining! Which means…?”
A comical silence falls upon the three of them. It takes Jisung approximately five taps of Hyunjin’s finger on the table to fully process his friend’s point. Realization lights up in his eyes like a candle but dies down with a pout on his face. “But she can just go with her friends?” he says with expressive hands, though a little disappointed.
“I’m not gonna half-ass it if I plan on helping you,” Felix gives the two umbrellas, a white one and a pink one, in his hands a slight jerk, looking oddly proud.
This time, Jisung catches on immediately; his eyes go wide in shock as though his friend has committed the greatest sin. “Yeji and Lia are so gonna kill you.”
two.
“Did you bring an umbrella?” Lia asks while hopeless rummaging through her stuff. “I swear with my own eyes I saw myself putting one in my bag this morning.”
Yeji shakes her head in defeat, tugging at the straps of her backpack. “I was pretty sure I brought one too. I even used it to walk to the bus stop this morning! Someone must have taken it during recess,” she sighs, dreading the pouring rain and grey clouds.
It’s raining again. It’s only been raining today, the weather forecast did predict that it’s most likely going to last for a whole week too (not that you bothered checking). You don’t mind the rain, though. You like the fact that they make the world appear mistier, hazier like a fever dream.
What isn’t good about the rain is the fact that your parents won’t be too happy to see you come home looking like a wet rat. Or the fact that you’ll probably get a really bad cold, and that won’t be pretty during midterms week. Or the fact that most students are absolute idiots and didn’t bring their own umbrellas either. Everyone is shoving each other for space under the canopy at the main gate so the rain won’t soak their clothes.
You’re not having it. At all.
“Yeji, Lia. I’m going home,” you purse your lips together and take a breath.
Lia frowns at your particular solution. “Already? But you’re gonna get wet.”
“My house is a ten-minute walk away. Shouldn’t be too bad,” you say lowly in faint annoyance, eyes squinted from the discomfort of lack of space; these students have no manners whatsoever, you’re getting claustrophobic.
With a determined huff, you pull the zipper of your jacket up and throw the hood over your hair. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
Shadow suddenly looms over the top of your head, warmth radiates to your clothed arm. In the corner of your eyes, a familiar face comes into view and forces a heavy exhale from your lips.
“Hey, do you wanna go with-“ Jisung pauses midway when you take off running, shattering his fantasy of living in a drama into bits without mercy. “Y/N! Wait up!”
three.
“Come here! Or you’ll get sick!”
“Why the hell do you care?”
“Y/N, stop being so stubborn! You’re gonna catch a cold!”
“It’s none of your business.”
After walking down several blocks down the road, past nothing but empty plazas and mostly closed café, you even take an extra U-turn, going through a skeptical alley just so Jisung will get tired and stop following you. Your effort doesn’t not prevail so you give up eventually, deciding to take the proper turn to head home before it’s too late to prepare dinner.
The poor boy can feel the rain drizzle down his black umbrella before falling onto his windbreaker, soaking through the fabric to stain his senses with a chilling sensation. He has already calmed every racing thought that ceases to ease his erratic heartbeat but no matter how hard he tries, there isn’t one second where he isn’t thinking about your well-being.
“Hey,” he calls out; when you turn around, he’s closing his umbrella and tossing it to the ground, leaving it to graze the tip of your shoes. “Take it and go home. I won’t bother you anymore.”
You roll your eyes before picking it up, mercilessly letting it flop right in front of him. “I don’t need it.”
Jisung clicks his tongue in irritation, not caring that droplets are falling from his head and his skin is crawling from the cold. Somehow, he’s starting to become baffled for no reason. Perhaps it’s because of your nonchalance about the current situation; you shouldn’t be so apathetic when he’s genuinely worried sick for your health.
His eyes are heavy with rain droplets so he blinks them away before glaring at you slightly. “You need it more than I do. Would you please stop acting irrationally, take the umbrella and head home? The rain isn’t stopping anytime soon.” His leg jerks up to kick at the innocent object; still isn’t enough to relish the turmoil hurling his innards.
He brushes past you, shoving your shoulder a little while expecting you to finally accept his offer. To his dismay, you once again grab at the poor, poor umbrella, and throw it at his leg with more force this time. When it drops to the ground with a small thud, his heart pauses awkwardly in disappointment.
The sun is going down by the second but you can still see the faint outline of his scowl. “Go home, Jisung. It’s getting late,” you remark coldly, stuffing your freezing hands into your pocket.
With a loud groan, he marches back to where you two were originally standing, a curse word lingers on the tip of his tongue. But he manages to swallow it back down before gently tugging at the sleeve of your jacket. “Take the umbrella at least,” he voices softly, the crack more evident than anything at the end. “Look, I know I’ve been nothing but a nuisance since we first met. I just really like you and I care for you okay? Go home, Y/N.”
“Please.”
You look at him after moments, your once hateful eyes finally glinting with something else other than general distaste and annoyance. It only takes one glance of his tired eyes to pierce through your phlegmatic front, leaving your raw emotions out in the open. Before Jisung can say another word or take notice of the rare warmth creeping in your gaze, you take his hand in yours and pull him toward a nearby apartment complex to not wait out in the downpour any longer. By the time that you’ve released the grip, he’s still staring into the nothingness, eyes slightly wide in shock.
“What are you doing? Aren’t you gonna go home?” he blurts out finally after snapping out of it.
“This is my apartment complex. But I must have dropped my card somewhere. So I can’t go inside.”
A sigh. “Is anyone home right now?”
“My phone is dead.”
Jisung perks up and his hand fishes inside his pocket. “You can use-”
You inhale deeply, looking away. “Enough is enough, Jisung. Go home.”
“You broke my umbrella,” he mentions, blinking rapidly to bat the droplets away from his eyelashes. “I can’t go home like this.”
Few beats of silence later, a middle-aged woman dressed in a beige trench coat walks past the both of you, two high school students pathetically standing under the canopy like wet rats; she swipes her card against the security lock and the glass door pops open without much effort. Sparing you the last look, she’s probably thinking ‘kids these days’ before heading inside with a roll of her eyes.
Jisung hurriedly skips over to hold the door open for you, motions for you to walk in with his head. To his surprise, you comply but bring your steps to a halt to situate yourself in front of him. His lashes are wet and heavy; that’s when you realize how soaked you both are and how terribly cold the temperature it’s getting. Your hand reaches out to brush the raindrops away softly, shaking his heart to the core.
The silence is graceful in the wake of the moment, the rain in the background just makes everything that much more cinematic. However, Jisung isn’t in the right mind state to fanboy over the fact that his drama fantasy is one step closer to reality. He wishes to cling to this moment forever because he just can’t get enough. He can never.
“I’ll get you a towel,” you pull away calmly, thinking how cute he sort of looks when his cheeks are three shades redder. “And a new umbrella.”
His smile has never been brighter, you notice. Even when he’s out in the brutal cold and completely drenched from head to toe. And wait...have his eyes always been so pretty?
#skzwritersclub#inkidz#stray kids#han jisung#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#han jisung imagines#han jisung scenarios#jisung imagines#jisung scenarios#stray kids fluff#han jisung fluff#bang chan#lee minho#seo changbin#hwang hyunjin#lee felix#yang jeongin#kim seungmin#skz x reader#skz x you#jisung x reader
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Brave Heart: Chapter Six
Attack on Titan
Rating: Mature
Warnings: sexual themes, death, gore, mature themes, extreme violence, body horror, blood, weapons, major character death, age-gap relationship
With rain pouring down heavy from the dark clouds looming above, Vera wiped her forehead with the back of her arm, pushing away the strands of hair that had stuck to her skin from a mixture of her own sweat and the rain.
By then, the majority of the population had managed to get through wall Sina and into the Interior, but that didn't mean humanity was out of the woods yet; far from it, actually.
Despite the fact that the withdrawal signal had sounded, the supply teams and supply depot had been overrun and many cadets, including Vera, had been left stranded with empty or nearly empty ODM gas canisters.
As time passed, the rain stopped, and hope dwindled, Vera and many of the fellow cadets that she had met up with had resorted to waiting aimlessly atop the rooves for some sort of rescue.
"Hey, Jean," Connie called over to the boy who was sitting with his head between his knees. "What are we gonna do?"
"We can't do anything," Jean retorted, utterly defeated. "They finally gave us the order to withdraw . . . and we were all out of gas, of course. I can't believe this is how it's going to end. Because of those damned cowards."
"You mean the supply depot?" Connie clarified. "What is going on? Where are they?"
Vera huffed as she sat down beside Jean, her aching feet begging for a break. "If I had to guess, I'd say most of them are dead."
Jean nodded. "And those who aren't have lost their will to fight. And I can understand why . . . but they abandoned their duty to supply us, barricading themselves inside HQ. And, of course, Titans have swarmed the place, which means we can't get the gas ourselves."
"Then why are we waiting?!" Connie blurted out. "We gotta go! Start thinning their numbers so we have a chance! Sitting here on this roof is totally pointless. Eventually, the Titans are gonna come for us. We don't have much gas left and we'll just waste what little we've got if we try to run. And without our mobility, we're completely screwed!"
The ghost of a smile graced Jean's lips. "You're using your head for once, Connie. Nice going. But I'm just not sure if we've got the numbers needed to pull this thing off. The veterans in the vanguard force have all been killed. How, exactly, do a bunch of rookies pull off a suicide mission like this? I mean, let's assume half of our force even survives the initial assault. Then what? The supply room is probably crawling with Titans in the Three or Four-Meter range. I don't see us accomplishing much in there."
Connie, who had been severely impacted by the facts that Jean had just spit out, slumped his shoulders. "It's hopeless."
Vera rested her head in her hand and sighed. "Jean makes a point, but the way I see it, if we sit here, we are sure to die. If we try to take on the Titans and take back HQ, at least there is a chance that some of us will make it out alive."
Unswayed, Jean huffed. "God, what a dull life this turned out to be. I never even got to tell her just how I feel."
Looking at the defeated cadets around her, Vera accepted her fate. "I can't storm HQ alone though . . . so I guess I'm dying here with you guys instead." She put her hands behind her, leaned back, and looked up at the thick gray clouds that threatened to release another downfall of rain at any moment. "Too bad. I was really hoping to have accomplished a little more before my time was up."
"Come on, guys, we can do it!" Sasha was one of the only ones with even a sliver of hope left. "Right? Let's go! If we all work together, we can make this happen. I know we can. All right? I'll take the lead!"
No one was convinced, however. Instead, people turned away, so that the flashes of hope on Sasha's bright face didn't make them feel even more guilty about their decisions to give up.
Looking back over her shoulder, Vera checked on Armin, who was sitting by himself a few rooftops away. Ever since she, Hannah, and he had joined up with the rest of the stranded cadets, he had been sitting off on his own, head down, eyes wide, not making a single sound.
Sasha tried to convince Armin it was time to go, relying on the fact that his usual optimism might be just what everyone needed to regain some bravery and drive to survive. Armin, however, was the most beaten down of all of them. Vera had seen the way the life had drained from his eyes when Eren had been killed, and ever since then, he had been little more than a shell of a human being.
After a few more minutes of waiting around, a group of four more cadets swooped in, clearly on their last legs as well. Vera almost paid them no mind, but when she heard a familiar voice and looked up, she felt something warm spark inside of her for just a second.
There, standing before her, was Reiner, Bertholdt, Annie, and Marco.
When Reiner looked over and met her gaze, he smiled. Vera smile back, and as she stood to her feet, ignoring the aches of protest in her feet, he walked over to greet her.
"You're alive." Reiner reached his hand out, but before she could get close enough to touch, he quickly retracted his fingers. "Thought maybe you had fed yourself to a Titan."
"Me? Speak for yourself." Vera shook her head. "You disappeared this morning. One second you were next to me, then the next you were gone. I thought the Colossal Titan had gotten you or something."
Reiner scoffed. "You almost sound as if you were worried. You're not going soft on me, are you?"
Vera cracked a smile. "Not on your life."
"Sorry to interrupt." Annie sauntered over, her monotone voice making it obvious that she wasn't actually sorry. "Reiner, do we move out?" She tilted her head in the direction of HQ.
Following Annie's gaze, Reiner watched the Titans surrounding the depot for a while before shaking his head. "Not yet. We have to let them gather up first."
Before Vera had the chance to ask if they were actually planning on taking back HQ, Marco hung his head and interjected. "It's no use. There's too many of them. I don't think any of us are going to survive this. I've come to accept my impending demise. I just wanted my death to mean something."
Out of nowhere, a commotion started to spread through the gathering of cadets. When Vera heard someone call out Mikasa's name, she turned to see Mikasa herself running toward them, clearly having abandoned the rear guard.
"Vera!" Mikasa came to a stop before them. "I know how bad things have gotten. It's selfish, putting personal matters in the forefront, but you were a part of Eren's squad, right?"
Vera immediately felt as though she had been punched in the stomach and all the air had been knocked out of her lungs. "I was." Vera nodded in affirmation before pointing toward Armin. "Armin is over there."
Mikasa's eyes flickered with something like hope for a split second. "And what about everyone else? What about Eren? Where is Eren?"
Vera averted her gaze and bit at her bottom lip, her actions probably more telling than anything. "I think you should ask Armin about it," she finally said. "I was there but . . . I just think it's best if Armin told you, considering your history together."
Mikasa waited for a second or two before turning to head toward Armin. Before she could leave, though, Vera grabbed her by the sleeve of her jacket. "I'm sorry," she told her, knowing full-well that her words were not helping in the slightest. If anything, she was only apologizing to make herself feel better.
With that, Mikasa pulled her arm free and ran over to Armin, tears already threatening to spill.
"They were . . ." Everyone turned to Armin, unable to stop themselves from listening in as he began to speak through broken sobs. "The cadets of squad 34 . . . Thomas Wagner, Nack Tierce, Millieus Zeremski, Mina Carolina, and Eren Jaeger! These brave five upheld their duties. They died valiantly on the field of battle. Vera and I are the only ones left."
"Their whole squad was wiped out?" someone asked, utterly shocked. "The same will happen to us if we try to take on those Titans."
Armin shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks once more. "I'm sorry, Mikasa. It should have been me that died instead . . . and I would have if Vera hadn't risked her own life to save me. I'm worthless."
Kneeling down in front of her friend, surprisingly calm, Mikasa rested a comforting hand on his knee. "Armin. Calm yourself. We haven't got time for you to get emotional right now. Now, on your feet. " She helped him stand before turning to address everyone else. "Marco, if we eliminate or bypass the Titans at HQ, we can there refuel our gear, allowing us to get back over the wall. Is that assessment correct?"
"Well, ugh, yeah, I guess so. Sure," Marco confirmed. "But there's just too many of them out there. Even with you on point."
"I can do it." Mikasa drew her blades and pointed one toward the sky, a stance that was both powerful and intimidating. "I'm strong. Real strong. None of you come close, you hear me? I am a warrior. Know this: I have the power to slay all of the Titans that block our path. Even if I have to do it alone. As far as I'm concerned, I am surrounded by a bunch of unskilled, cowardly worms." She lowered her raised blade to point at Vera and the others. "You disappoint me. You can just sit here and twiddle your thumbs and watch how it's done."
"Wait, Mikasa, are you out of your mind?" One of the girls confronted her. "That's crazy!"
"You can't be serious!" someone else spoke up. "Trying to take them out by yourself? There's no way you can hope to beat them!"
Mikasa just shrugged. "If I can't beat them, then I die. But if I win, I live. And the only way to win is to fight."
Without another word, Mikasa leapt off of the rooftop and started toward HQ by herself, not even bothering to look back once to see if anyone else was following her.
"You know, I was expecting something more motivational," Jean huffed as he drew his blades as well. "Your way with words was kind of a letdown. I blame everything about this on you, Eren," he muttered to himself before raising his blade as well. "Hey, don't just stand there! We weren't taught to let our comrades fight alone! Unless you are a coward, in which case, stay out of my way!"
With that, Jean took off with Connie fast on his heels.
"I never expected that from him," Reiner commented.
Drawing her blades just like the others, Vera let a puff of air that could be considered a laugh past her lips. "Well, the last thing I want is to be considered a coward by the MP Military Princess himself, so I guess I'm not going down without a fight either."
Before long, the group of previously dejected cadets were leaping from the rooftops with vigour, ready to take back HQ or die trying.
"Hurry up!" Jean encouraged the others. "Follow Mikasa! Avoid fighting if you can and get to HQ before you run out of gas!"
Quickly catching up to the frontrunners, Vera tried to rely on her anchoring gear as much as she could, only using her gas when it was necessary. She had no idea how much gas she had left and was well aware that at any second, she could run out and drop from the sky.
Spotting a Titan up ahead, Vera narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip on her blades. Then, with one big swing from an adjacent building, she spun herself as quickly and as hard as she could, sinking her blades deep into the back of the Titan's neck and cutting out a chunk of flesh more than large enough to end the beast's gruesome existence.
Just as she had gotten steady again, her blades now dripping with Titan blood, Vera caught sight of Mikasa going down out of the corner of her eye. Quick to act, Armin and Connie went after her while Jean led the charge the rest of the way to HQ.
Vera was tempted to change course as well because, after the events that unfolded earlier that day, a part of her didn't want to let Armin out of her sight. She almost felt as though she had a duty to protect him; that it was the least she could do to keep Eren's friend from dying after she had failed to save Eren himself.
Before she had the chance, though, Jean had come to a sudden stop, creating a domino effect and halting the entire attack squad. "It's no use." Jean gestured to the Titan-filled streets that stood between them and HQ. "We're not getting anywhere near headquarters. Unless, of course, we don't mind dying."
Hearing a crash, Vera looked over to see one of the boys, Tom, stranded on the ground after his equipment had failed him. Titans of all sizes quickly swarmed him, and despite the efforts of some of his friends, he was captured and ripped apart for everyone to watch.
Screams echoed through the barren streets as Tom's friends were snatched up by the Titans as well. Jean watched as the cadets under his temporary leadership were murdered before his very eyes; limbs torn off, skulls crushed, bodies devoured.
Vera could tell that Jean was going through a personal crisis at the moment. Trembling in his boots, Jean broke out into a nervous sweat before closing his eyes, but even then he couldn't escape the screams. She knew he was doubting his ability to lead—that much was evident from the way the tortured shrieks of his comrades seemed to pierce his very being, making him shudder and twitch like he was listening to nails on a chalkboard non-stop.
As seconds turned to minutes and Jean continued to stand frozen in place, wide eyes locked onto the carnage of feasting Titans below, Vera could tell that he needed a little push.
"We're waiting on your orders, Jean." Vera placed a hand on his shoulder, effectively pulling him from his own spiralling thoughts and back into reality.
Jean gave a gentle nod, and although he was still staring at the Titans who were facing away from them, Vera could tell he was actually assessing the situation now instead of just staring off into nothingness.
"Let's go!" Jean announced suddenly. "Make a break for HQ while they're distracted."
Before anyone had the chance to respond, Jean had jumped down onto one of the lower rooftops and was running along the tops of buildings toward headquarters. Acting fast before their time ran out and they were trapped, Vera and those that remained followed suit.
Legs burning and physical exhaustion beginning to set in, Vera could taste blood in her mouth as she pushed herself forward, one step after another. It was then that she began truly testing the worth of the past three years of training. Had Sadies really turned her into a proper soldier? Now was the time to find out.
"Give it all you've got!" Jean shouted words of encouragement the entire way.
The plethora of Titans that Vera passed by all attempted to crush her one way or another. Some snapped at her like the one that had taken Eren's leg, and others reached out with their hands to grab her, but every time Vera managed to somehow evade them. The same couldn't be said for everyone, considering their numbers continued to drop the closer to HQ they got, but it was looking like enough of them would survive for this hail-mary to not have been a complete failure.
"Hey, Jean!" Marco smiled wide as they made the final push toward headquarters. "You really came through for us there, man. We owe you big time!"
Jean just stared, dumbfounded by Marco's words.
"Don't shrug it off. I'm serious," Marco insisted. "We're alive because of you! Like I said, you make a great leader!"
Jean scoffed. "Easy with that crap. We're not out of this yet."
The last few meters, where Vera and the others had to rely more on their ODM gear than the rooftops, was where the most cadets fell. That area was packed with Titans, and as the cadets swung through the air around them, trying desperately to make it to what little safety HQ had to offer, they were snatched out of the sky one by one.
Finally, Vera could see the end in sight. With her speed decreasing, she could tell she was nearing the end of her gas supply and would only have enough for one more last maneuver, if she was lucky. The only problem was, there was a Twelve-Meter Titan standing between her and the finish line.
With one final burst from her ODM gear, Vera shot herself as far and as high into the air as she could. When it became abundantly clear that she hadn't gone far enough, however, she resorted to plan B; a very risky plan B. Coming down fast and hard, Vera braced herself as she approached the open mouth of the Twelve-Meter that was happily waiting for her to kindly fall down its throat. At the last second, she flipped forward, giving herself just enough momentum to miss the Titan's mouth and land upon its nose.
As soon as Vera felt her feet land upon the Titan's face, she pushed off once more, propelling herself through the air and, thankfully, crashing through one of the HQ windows and into safety.
Glass shattering around her, Vera let out a groan of pain when she collided with the hardwood floor. Her body tumbled and skidded a bit—the broken glass cutting into her as she did—but eventually, she stopped.
Close behind her, the other cadets came crashing through the windows as well. As the bodies tumbled in, Jean stood and began counting. It was obvious that they had lost more than half of the original group they had started with, but in all honesty, Vera was surprised at how many people had survived in the first place.
She was also glad to see that Bertholdt and Reiner were among those few survivors. On the other hand, however, Mikasa, Armin, and Connie were still unaccounted for.
When Vera turned to ask Jean about whether they should send someone after the missing trio, she stopped in her tracks when she noticed him staring at a pair of cadets huddling under one of the desks that littered the room.
"Hold on a sec." Jean glared at them, surprise and anger mixed as one emotion on his face. "You guys with the supply team?"
The male cadet nodded. "Yeah."
Immediately, Jean's arm snapped forward and he grabbed the cadet by his jacket, harshly dragging him out from underneath the desk. With one hard punch, he sent the supply team cadet tumbling to the ground.
"Jean! Stop!" Marco rushed over and grabbed him under the armpits to stop him from causing any more bodily harm to anyone.
"You cowards!" Jean seethed. "You left us out there on our own! People are dead because you didn't have the guts to do your job!"
Crying out, the female cadet rushed to her friend's side. "The Titans were coming at us from every angle! They overran the supply room, okay?"
"It's your job to deal with it and back us up anyway!"
Vera felt her blood begin to boil, just like she assumed Jean's was, but luck seemed to be on the supply team cadets' side, because before she could rip into them—physically or verbally—a Titan head came crashing through the wall of HQ, sending bricks, dust, and debris flying.
"Son of a . . ." Jean gasped. "There's too many people. They can smell us."
Chaos broke out in a matter of seconds. Cadets started pushing past one another in order to get further into the building and away from any exterior walls.
Vera's already sore and aching body throbbed as the sea of panicked cadets pushed past her roughly to get to the door. A few times, she nearly lost her footing and a memory of her being trampled as a small girl flashed through her mind. She tried to move out of the way, but she was stuck in place, unable to move in any direction.
The brief thought of hunkering down and rolling into a protective ball passed by in her mind, but a pair of strong arms wrapped around her and came to her rescue before it had to come to that.
"I got you." Reiner took the brunt of the impact, protecting Vera with his own body. "Hold onto me."
Vera felt that same spark of warmth from earlier return in her chest. "Thank you," she said, low enough that she thought he couldn't hear, but he did.
"I just watched you use a Titan nose to trampoline yourself through a glass window." Reiner looked down at her with a cocky smirk. "Hell if I'm gonna let you die in a stampede of fifteen-year-olds."
For a brief moment in time, Vera felt safe. That safety, however, quickly vanished when she looked over to see two Titans peering in through the hole in the wall, grinning at her, Reiner, Jean, and everyone else who had yet to escape.
Vera opened her mouth to scream at Jean to get out of the way since he was the closest to the Titans, but the sound of her voice was silenced by the bone-crushing crunch that echoed through the room when a giant fist came out of nowhere and collided with the side of the first Titan's head, sending it and the other Titan flying away from the building.
Through the hole in the wall, Vera watched as a Titan with piercing green eyes—not cold and lifeless like the others—and long, brown hair stomped into view. Opening its large mouth, the Titan that had just—for lack of a better word—saved her and the others, let out a high-pitched shriek.
Seconds later, Mikasa, Armin, and Connie came crashing through one of the windows as well.
"Wow, close one." Connie chuckled as he checked his gas canister. "I was running on fumes. We made it here, though. Crazy, but we did!" He gave Armin a hearty pat on the back. "You're a certified genius! From now on, as far as I'm concerned, your word is law."
Flabbergasted, Jean stared at Mikasa. "You . . . I . . . am I dreaming this, or what?"
"Check it out!" Connie pointed to the Titan that had just punched out the other Titans. "We found an Abnormal that's got a bone to pick with its own kind. And the best part? He couldn't care less about us! That's right, you heard me: this big beautiful SOB is our ticket out of here!"
After Reiner had let her go, Vera stepped forward to get a better look at the Abnormal Titan. "You mean like fighting fire with fire?"
"Listen to yourself," Jean criticized Connie. "A Titan's not going to help us! You're out of your mind if you think this can work."
"It is working," Mikasa cut in. "For whatever reason, he's rampaging against them. Stand back and let him do it. Trust me. You'll see. Either way, what choice do we have? Right now that thing is our best chance at survival."
#lostinthewiind#attack on titan#brave heart#fanfiction#AoT#OC#original character#eren jaeger#mikasa ackerman#armin arlert#levi ackerman#erwin smith#story#titans#tumblr fic#wattpad#jean kirstein#historia reiss#annie leonhart#reiner braun#hange zoe#bertholdt hoover#connie springer#vera kline#sasha braus#ymir fritz#reiner braun x oc#levi ackerman x oc
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congrats on your milestone event!!! id like to request for kita soulmate!au with angst to fluff genre 👉👈 yknow sumn rejection shit bcs im hopeless like that wehee once again congrats! and i love your writing style :3
anon you’re gonna make me cry 🥺 seriously i’m happy you enjoy my writing and that you think my style’s okay! most of the time i go off of what kind of feelings i get when i’m writing or the imagery that comes up in my head and i’m never sure that it translates well enough for you guys to feel or see the same thing. hopefully as i keep writing then i’ll be able to show you guys what’s on my mind better when i’m writing! thank you again for requesting — seriously, it means a lot! and like always, you guys, don’t be afraid to come and talk to me on and off anon! your interactions mean a lot, especially for content creators! we love hearing what you all think, what you like/dislike about our work, what you think of certain characters — absolutely anything! come and talk with us more whenever you can 💕
writing for kita feels calming somehow. normally the things that come up in my chest or my mind when i write gets nearly overwhelming if that makes sense? like i’ll have to pause and remind myself to breathe because it takes up so much of my attention that i kinda get lost, but with kita, it feels more flowey to me. it’s not demanding but more like a gentle coaxing kind of thing or like looking at the surface of a calm river. i was initially scared to write for him because i was worried i wouldn’t get him right, but i feel satisfied with how this turned out, i think. i hope you guys will find it as calming as i found it too! it might not be exactly what you wanted, but because i had already written the rejection of a person for atsumu’s soulmate oneshot, i wanted to play around with kita’s character and make it instead the rejection of a concept/idea? which would indirectly lead to him... you know, rejecting his soulmate initially, but— ahhhhhh it might make sense to just read it!! these rambles keep getting longer and longer :v i’m sorry for that!! please go ahead and read and tell me what you think in the end! 💕
NOTNING MORE THAN HUMAN ➽ KITA SHINSUKE x READER
genre: angst to fluff
au: soulmate
warnings: none
shinsuke kita is human.
and of course, that much is obvious. he isn’t a machine that’s incapable of feelings and emotions, whose heart is unfamiliar with melodies of an overwhelming joy, or the quiet hymns of deep rooted sadness. his skin still burns under righteous fury and anger, his tongue still weighs heavy under hesitance and silent worries. at the end of every long day, he’s still human.
it’s because he’s human that the words on his collarbone feel so heavy, as if they might cave into the bone and destroy him under their weight. it’s because he’s human that the sight of black markings in the mirror clouds his mind with a new kind of fear and worry. shinsuke kita is human, but he’s long since taught himself how to abandon anxiety and nervousness. he surrounds himself in familiar routines that calm the turbulent voices of doubt, he builds habits that ground him to the earth lest he should be swept away by the current. shinsuke has taught himself not to be afraid for the things that will happen everyday, but meeting his soulmate isn’t one of those things he can prepare for.
it’s a strange concept, he considers to himself. shinsuke doesn’t believe in words like fate or destiny, doesn’t care for the higher powers that should judge his actions. as far as he’s concerned, his own will is what dictates where his life goes — he’s in control, and that’s how it’s always been for him. let the gods watch, if they must, but he’s already decided that he’ll live by what is right, and he wouldn’t dare falter in the face of it. and yet — and it’s such a strange thing for him to do so — he pauses under the notion of a soulmate, of a destined partner who’s supposedly bound to him for as long as he should live. at first, he hadn’t given the idea much thought; it wouldn’t serve any purpose to worry about something that would happen whether or not he wants it, he decided. the truth of it is inevitable, just as the leaves must fall in autumn and the earth should be buried under clouds of white in winter. shinsuke is human — what more can he do but to accept it?
the black words that spread across his skin like droplets of ink became the bitter seeds of doubt that he hadn’t felt in a long time. it’s raining a lot today, isn’t it? the sentence by itself is so bland, like something maybe aran or anyone else might say to him in passing, and at first, it didn’t shake him too much, until he was caught one day under a sudden summer storm. seventeen year old kita somehow found himself stranded beneath a small shelter, where the wooden covering could protect him more than his umbrella until the rain passed. it was nearly unconscious, but he somehow found himself on edge, his breath faltered with the harsh pitter patter of rainfall that tumbled from green leaves and tore ripples from the surface of the lake. shinsuke kita found himself with a stomach full of butterflies and a thundering heartbeat that stole him away from solace and calm, cast the peace that he would so often carry with him away and left him stranded among chopping waves. every trembling breath he took stung on cold air and left him with a burning feeling on his lungs. it’s unfamiliar in its presence and shakes him to his core, but shinsuke kita is reminded of his own humanity when he realizes that what he feels, is anticipation and nervousness.
and it’s an odd thing. as he becomes aware of it, he finds himself twisting his fingers together during spring time; he worries his bottom lip between his teeth during unexpected showers. he feels like a child who stands in line to ride a roller coaster for the first time in his life — wide-eyed and drowning in the millions of feelings that race throughout his body. the feeling itself is nothing new, though it’s unfamiliar and intense in its ferocity and demand, seizes his heart and squeezes so tightly that whenever it rains, he’s left breathless.
it’s almost enough to drive him mad.
his very foundation seems to fall apart with the thunder that rolls across grey skies. for every drop of rain that hits the pavement, he finds himself a jittery mess as his heartbeat tears through his chest. the man who taught himself to abandon his fears reverts into the young boy who watched out for god, for the higher beings who watched his every move. and the thought that comes with every brilliant bolt of lightning burns him just as hotly, invasive and demanding when it flashes through his mind on a single, low whisper:
will you be happy?
shinsuke kita is human. he learns as he sees and lives as he’s learned, and what he saw growing up was that soulmates were bounded together till death do them part. a connection that’s set deep in stone, never to be erased by unforgiving weather and to persevere during the cruelest of storms. it’s an inevitable reality that the gods designed, so that mortals like himself should dance on stage and tell them a story. but shinsuke knows that not all these stories have a happy ending.
there are plays that end in tragedy and loss, those that only knew memories of pain and sang with death’s violin. man becomes the actor to a play that he has no choice in and dances on the puppet master’s strings, he surrenders control and gives himself up to the music, and he has no way of knowing the end of it until the curtains should fall. shinsuke has never been one to lay down his will, and yet, as winter melts once more into gray rain clouds and scattered showers, he’s reminded of his mortality, of the fate that’s been sealed away in the falling of rain. shinsuke kita is human, and so he must, like all men do, bend to fate’s will and never utter a word against her.
and for a long time, the sentiment caused him to completely reject the idea of a soulmate.
that feeling of helplessness that would wash over him with the rain turned into a bitterness that crushed his lungs between tightened fist. the acceptance of an inevitable waltz — whether it be to eternal happiness or to a cruel melody — turned into rebellious loathing that spat in the face of destiny. it’s entirely childish in its tale, like a toddler throwing a tantrum because he doesn’t want to give up his precious toy. that toy is his control, the power he had to live his life by his truth, not by that of a higher being. he’s human, after all, and humans are selfish and resentful by nature.
he finds himself with a heavy chest today, as well, as he waits for the pouring rain to subside. the small shelter in the middle of the garden park is familiar, and carries with it the memories of his epiphany, the one that created thunder storms in his once tranquil heart, and for that, he hates this place. the sound of the rain hitting the roof is like nails scratching against the chalkboard; the sound of droplets hitting the lake like an annoying whining that he can’t get out of his head. shinsuke curses this little pocket away from the world with all the childish anger in the world — let it be damned that doing so wouldn’t change anything. for once, he let himself go on a petty grudge against the universe, and against that looming stage and its heavy curtains.
it’s nearly faint, but he picks up on the patter-patter of footfalls that quickly approach him, and he turns bronze coloured eyes to find your rain-drenched figure running for shelter under the little gazebo. you’re out of breath by the time you make it underneath, letting out an exhausted and frustrated sigh as you press your hands to your knees, and shinsuke finds himself sympathizing with the way you bitterly push your hair from your face. you’re an ordinary office worker, from what he can see; you’ve hidden what looks to be a messenger back beneath your coat, leaving you to tremble in a thin button-up. this day’s downpour had been sudden, unexpected as spring would soon surrender to the approaching summer, and he imagines that he would have been in a similar position as yourself had he not packed his umbrella beforehand.
a silence settles over the both of you that’s only broken by the heavy rain, but the presence of it is so soothing that shinsuke finds himself breathing on a lighter air. suddenly the smell of petrichor turns sweeter, the melody of raindrops melting into a distant lullaby, and for the first time, shinsuke feels his heart melt under an indescribable sense of warmth despite the weather. and when your eyes turn to find his, a helpless grin on your lips, he feels that warmth explode under summer fireworks and coarse throhgh his veins like liquid lightning.
“it’s raining a lot today, isn’t it?”
for the second time in his life, shinsuke has an epiphany under the shelter in the garden.
he feels every bit of resentment vanish on a sudden gust of wind, one that sends raindrops splashing against his skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice. not when grey clouds suddenly reveal to him pillars of sunlight that embrace your figure and makes you glow against a background of green leaves. the rain turns into something sweet and enticing, and it suddenly gives shinsuke this unexplainable urge to grab your hand and dance with you underneath the pouring showers, where he can hear your voice ring out on chimes of laughter and innocent bliss. in mere seconds, he manages to let go of the dark clouds that he’d unintentionally harboured on his chest, he let them burst with the weight of anger and childish fury so that they would hit the earth on giant droplets of rain.
shinsuke kita is human — he’s imperfect, mortal. he feels and he thinks and he speaks what’s on his mind. he can hate, and he can love: he can make that decision on whether or not to hold useless grudges and to curse a destiny he can’t change, or to welcome that inevitability with the willingness to learn and grow.
today, as he stands beneath a wooden shelter, hiding from the heavy rains, he decides to stretch his hand out and let the water hit his skin.
davi hits 200 followers — haikyuu!! au writing event! 💕
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sea monster indruck nsfw? maybe including one of them masturbating while fantasizing about the other one and confessing all their dirty thoughts as they're actually having sex? scary protective monster is also always hot if you're down for that
Here you go! I wasn’t able to fit in everything, but this one was fun!
This is all the hangman's fault.
Indrid could be pleasantly dead right now, not trapped in a gibbet on a clifftop, if the man had bothered to check his ropes ahead of time. But no, instead he failed to see the rats had been gnawing on them and the blasted noose snapped clean off the instant it took Indrids weight. To the villagers, this was a sign that Indrid was indeed a witch (and the son of a demon, a rare charge that drags his poor, deceased mother into this mess). To Indrid, it meant a new set of bruises and the worst possible death.
They locked him in the gibbet, the Atlantic crashing in angry, grey waves far below them. The man on his right is dead, eyeballs already plucked out by an enterprising bird, and the man on his left is getting there. If his visions are accurate, Indrid has a good five days of suffering the elements, the wild-life, and his own hunger and thirst before he joins them.
A lifetime of visions breeds resignation in the face of fate, so he closes his eyes, follows the futures of luckier men as a temporary escape. The screams of his neighbor rouse him with a start. Their source is wholly unexpected.
Looming at the edge of the cliff is an immense monster. From his vantage point, Indrid spies the creatures’ lower body still submerged in the sea, making it well over a hundred feet tall. It’s skin is green, it’s fingers webbed, and it’s crowned by a frill of wave-shaped spikes. The face is humanoid, with green eyes and hair of black water and a squid-beak where a mouth should be. Strange tentacles appear and disappear along its torso, as if they have not made up their mind as to whether they wish to exist.
The monster sighs, “Fuckin hate it when they leave their dead like this. Unsightly, and I ain’t sure it’s good for the seagulls to be eatin humans.”
“The dead and, ah, almost dead do not enjoy it much either.”
Upon hearing Indrids voice, the creature peers into his cage, “Huh, guess you ain’t dead. Either of you.” He turns his eyes on the other condemned man, who starts screaming again, “why’d they stick you here?”
“Witchcraft, specifically foresight and dabbling in ‘black magic.’ Well, that and a failed hanging” He tilts his head to show the visitor the rope mark.
“Damn, that looks like it hurts. Wonder if I can..” the tip of an immense claw extends towards him. There’s a crackle of power that makes his ears pop, and the monster pulls his hand back, “nope, fuck, was hopin it’d be a small enough thing to do.”
“I beg your pardon?”
The monster sighs, “Long story short, my kind ain’t able to interact in an, uh, altruistic fashion with humans unless they’re acolytes. Can’t even open that damn cage without gettin zapped. Never mind that some of us don’t even wanna be old gods or whatever the fuck, still ain’t allowed to help. Maybe if I get a real big stick..”
“How does one become an acolyte?” Indrid presses his face to the front of the cage.
“Uh, you gotta swear loyalty and servitude to me, specifically, and the ‘old gods’ in general, live in a place I set up for you, and do stuff when I need you to.”
“Very well, are there specific words of the oath or…”
“Whoah, hold up now” the creature raises his hands, “this shit is real bindin’, rather you not rush into it.”
“Given the alternative is death, a rush is rather necessary.”
“All I’m sayin is you might wanna think for more than two seconds before you agree! And there might be other ways for me to get you out.”
“Do..do you not want an acolyte?” Being rejected by a sea monster feels like a fitting end to his life.
“Not really. It ain’t personal or anythin; I’m just now leanin into the whole god thing and I still ain’t all that comfortable with parts if it. Last thing I want is an acolyte who saw me as ‘not as bad as death.”
“And the last thing I want is to die of exposure, so we are at an impasse.”
The monster clicks his beak once, “Okay, here’s what I’ll do. You take until sunset to think over whether you wanna be stuck servin’ this” he gestures to himself, “for a long-ass time, and we’ll go from there.”
“Very well.” Indrid resigns himself to several more hours of misery as the creature sinks from view. He glances at the other prisoner, “what do you think? He seems very considerate for a sea monster and I for one would like to keep living.”
The man stares, babbles incoherently for a moment before shouting, “You, you conversed with a devil! You are a witch, just as they say!”
“He spoke to both of us.” Indrid blinks, puzzled.
“I closed my ears to his lies, you offered yourself to his wickedness! Speak no more to me from your black tongue.”
“Hmmph” Indrid does his best to ignore the ongoing beration. He’s not sure the creature is a god, but then again the creature seems uncertain on the matter himself. Serving a maybe-god seems no worse than serving the king, a life among the depths no less tolerable than his small home in a town torn to pieces by accusations of witchcraft.
After a time, the storm clouds fulfill their purpose, a downpour battering him from all angles. Then a shadow falls over his shut eyes, and no more rain touches him.
“Seemed awful rude to leave you stuck in the rain while you thought things over.” The god explains, one massive hand shielding the human.
“Many thanks. Ah, I do have one concern about being your acolyte. Would...would I have to hurt anyone?”
“Don’t think so. I ain’t fond of hurtin folks, and if someone did need to be hurt, seems real strange to make the tiny human do it.”
Indrid puts on his most hopeful, charming smile, “I am very cold, very hungry, and my whole being feels as though it’s been stomped on by a team of horses. Perhaps I could give my answer early?”
A chuckle, like bubbles in deep water, “Hard to say no to that face. Okay, you got a deal. I checked with Joe while I was gone, to make sure I knew the right thing to do if you said yes. I’m gonna say the oath, and you’re gonna repeat it.”
Indrid nods, makes his way laboriously through the incantation in a gurgling language he does not know. The god patiently guides him along, cracks open the cage when the last word is spoken.
“Do I get to know your name? If it was one of those words, it will take me some time to master it.”
The monsters’ cheeks rise, suggesting a smile, “You can call me Duck. It’s a nickname. C’mon” he holds out his hand, “let’s get you outta the rain.”
“One moment.” Indrid moves to the other gibbet, undoing the lock, “you can get free if you wish. If anyone asks how, tell them it was the witch.” With that, he settles in Duck’s cupped palms, the skin smooth and cool to the touch.
“Down we go.” Duck sinks.
“Wait, how will I bre-” water fills his mouth, but only for a moment. A clear bubble forms around him, let’s him gulp in air as Duck dives further into the sea. More jarring than the spell is the sight of the monster unfurling behind him. He assumed Duck had legs, but instead his lower body is that of a sea-serpent, green with bronze rings and undulating in the dark waves.
“Like what you see?”
“Yes” he wonders what touching that tail is like.
“Yeah, this is a real beautiful part of the sea. If you want, some time I can take you further out; some spectacular lookin creatures out there. Here we go, home sweet home.” They surface at the base of a much shorter cliff, Indrid woozy from the change in depth. Three cottages--one red, one gold, and one blue-- stare back at them from a grassy hill.
“Let’s see if I can do this” Duck sets Indrid on the ground, closes his eyes, and hums. The world shudders and splits, and then a fourth, emerald green cottage sits alongside the others.
“Ha! Pretty damn good for a first effort.” His frill flickers with silver light.
“It’s wonderful.”
“All yours. You get yourself settled, I'm gonna go find out from the others what else needs doin’ now that I got an acolyte.” He lowers himself so the two of them are roughly face to face, “see you soon, Indrid.”
--------------------------------------
The cottage holds more possessions than Indrid’s ever had in his life, including a large feather bed that he stretches his aching body across before falling asleep and dreaming of seaweed twining up his legs.
Voices from the window rouse him some hours later. At the side of the red cottage sit three other humans, two of whom are at work in a vegetable garden. Indrid ventures down to introduce himself.
“Hi!” One, a woman with golden hair, waves to him, “you must be Indrid. I’m Dani, this is Barclay” she points to the bearded man harvesting potatoes, then to a tattooed man polishing a pile of gold and silver jewelry, “and that’s Boyd.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance. You are all acolytes as well?” His stomach rumbles and Barclay pauses his digging to slide him a basket containing bread and cheese.
“Help yourself, those are leftover from lunch. And yeah, we are. Or were, in Dani’s case.”
Even with foresight, Indrid is surprised when the woman says jokingly, “Got promoted to ‘wife’ a few months.”
“Congratulations.” It seems the appropriate thing to say, given her smile, “ah, what exactly do you all do for your gods? Duck is rather unclear on the details.”
“Some of it is spellwork. Beings like Duck have some innate power, but they can get more of it from an acolyte doing rituals or making offerings. Joseph, that’s my monster, Duck, and a few others aren’t sold on the idea that they’re meant to destroy humans, so they spend a lot of time keeping other monsters from doing just that. Our spellwork gives them an edge. Other than that, it really depends on who you’re working for; I spent a lot of my first month helping Joseph understand that hauling himself up onto a random dock to ask questions is not the best way to learn about humans. Boyd spends a lot of time maintaining Ned’s treasure.”
“Only because he bloody tricked me into workin for him. Just bidin my time until the deal runs out. You hear that Chicane!” Boyd yells towards the water, “don’t care how much you steal, I’ll get my share and run one of these days.”
To Indrid’s ear, the sea laughs in reply. Boyd grumbles and returns to his work.
“He’s just annoyed because he and Ned thought they could outwit each other; Boyd was on a prison ship bound for Jamaica and Ned offered him an out. Apparently they spent hours haggling over the terms.” Dani leans closer, whispers, “Boyds left twice, comes back every time saying he’s bored without someone to challenge him.”
They talk a while longer, Dani promising to bring Indrid some hens and a goat from town, Boyd giving him some firewood, and Barclay explaining the network of sea caves in the surrounding hills. When there’s a knock at the door, he opens it expecting another human and jumps when this is not the case.
“Evenin’” Duck smiles as he slithers into the house, “brought you a few more things.”
“You got smaller.”
“Can change my size some, though this is about as small as I can get.” He’s still two heads taller than Indrid, who notes that the ceilings are just high enough to accommodate him, as if the god built the cottage with visits in mind.
Duck sets a bucket of fresh oysters in the kitchen along with a large slab of butter, some milk, and some sugar, “Had one of my human friends bring me these. And, uh, I made you this” he holds up a cloak in the same colors as his tail. It fits Indrid snugly, shutting out the chilly air and making him feel rather grand indeed.
“C’mere” Duck pats a kitchen chair, “lemme take care of your neck.”
Indrid sits, shudders when webbing and claws rub sticky balm into his skin. The gods hands easily encircle his neck, a realization that stirs heat deep in his stomach. Duck talks as he works, a meandering story about a shipwreck, and Indrid finds he enjoys his manner of speech. The initial discomfort of the touches subside, the balm washing the pain in his neck away like a wave erasing a message in the sand. Cool hands wrapped around his throat turn as comforting as the fire crackling in the stove.
“That looks like it healed. Good” Duck’s beak fondly nips his ear, “gotta make sure my servant is in good condition.”
“Mmmm” Indrid bumps his chest with his head, hoping for more; tomorrow he’ll ask the others if it’s commonplace for an acolyte to lounge in the coils of their gods lap like a housecat.
The beak touches his ear once more, biting it lightly with little kissing sounds.
“Huh'' two tentacles catch Indrid as he tips sideways, his body deciding that the earlier nap was not enough rest, “didn’t think you’d find that soothin. Did it by accident, it’s how my kind show affection.”
“S’very nice” Indrid mumbles, dimly aware of being carried.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Y’know, in case I need to reward you for somethin.” Duck lays him in bed, pulls a thick blanket over him, and bids him goodnight. Indrid is sound asleep before the door closes.
------------------------------------
“Ngahka miskato--ah! Give that back” Indrid wrenches his spectacles free from hold of a far too inquisitive octopus. The creature squirts him with water, then disappears back into its pool.
Each of the gods has a sea cave in which their acolytes perform their rituals. Since the processes involves ancient, dark magic, all manner of strange sea life makes its way to the caves. Some, like the octopus or the seals that bob in the distance or flop on the rocks to nap, are known to him. Others might be classified as indescribable horrors from the deep, though Indrid thinks they look like crustaceans with a few too many limbs or the offspring of an eel and devil fish.
His oath to Duck allows him to read the spells, and his pronunciation is improving. Duck’s requests center on defense; letting himself take greater damage from an enemy, be better able to protect his friends, that sort of thing. Indrid even found a ritual that gives the god new cloaking abilities, which he’s used to make the cottages disappear on the hillside and thus keep curious townsfolk away. He also found one that allows Duck to remain out of water for well over a day.
The Duck who visits him in the cave and the one who stops by his home may be radically different sizes, but his disposition is constant. He talks about the kelp forests and the animals, about his annoyance with his supposed destiny as “destroyer of all man.” He conjures fine clothes from seaweed, furniture from driftwood, and brings Indrid newly made grins embedded with fresh pearls.
“Aren’t I supposed to be the one serving you?” Indrid will tease.
“Way I see it, we serve each other. Don’t care what that fuckin oath said.”
Indrid is feeding his hens one evening when his luck catches up with him; his human friends are all standing at the edge of Dani’s house, peering anxiously around it’s corner and down the hill. Joining them, he sees a crowd marching with torches and an assortment of lethal farm equipment.
“What the fuck are they doing? You were just in town today and everything was fine” Barclay glances at Dani, who shrugs, worried.
“My visions tell me that as they get closer we will hear them yelling about witches and that I will recognize many of them. I suspect my fellow gibbet-occupant told them about Duck.” He sighs, “I’ll try to lead them on a chase, get them away from all of you.”
Indrid runs into the evening before the others, or his own common sense, can stop him. Keeping to the cliffside, he lets them glimpse his hair and his red glasses, both used at the trial as proof of his wicked nature. His plan is to take a secret tunnel down into the caves, but his visions alert him a moment too late to the fact there are two, not one, groups of villagers. He’s outflanked on the cliff, holds up his hands to show he means no harm.
“I understand my continued existence alarms and confuses you, but that is no reason to go running about with weapons. Would you kindly leave me alone?”
“No, witch, we will not.” The head of the party shouts over the wind.
“I have a name, you know.” He grumbles, looking behind him and wondering if his status as an acolyte grants him immunity from death by falling in the water.
“You have already confessed to your black work, and we have on good authority you have made a pact with the devil. There is nowhere to run, and if you come quietly I promise we will hang you properly this time.”
“And if I do not?”
“We shall see to it that your body is scattered about this cliffside before the night is out.” The mob moves forward and Indrid stumbles back, the earth giving out beneath his feet.
He lands with a yelp in a smooth, large hand. As Duck rises more fully from the waves, the crowd freezes, struck dumb with fear.
“Y’all ain’t gonna touch him, y’hear? Indrid’s under my protection and in case it ain’t obvious, I could smoosh the whole damn bunch of you without breakin a sweat. So, what you’re gonna do is turn around and go back to your village, and I’ll forget this ever happened. If you come after him again, I’m gonna start taking out ships in your harbor. We clear?”
The panicked flight of the mod downhill suggests he’s made his point.
Duck carries Indrid home, joining him in the cottage once he can fit through the door. The monster follows him upstairs, pulling him into his arms.
“Thought I was gonna lose you.”
“That makes two of us.”
Duck nuzzles the top of his head, “You mind if I stay here tonight? Little worried some of them might get it into their heads to come back and hurt you.”
No futures show this, but Indrid nods all the same. Duck curls up near the bed, not leaving until the morning sun shines through the window. He does the same the next night, and the night after that, and soon it’s been two weeks of the god talking softly with Indrid as the human falls asleep.
When Indrid shyly asks if Duck will join him, his monster lays as comfortably as he can on the right side of the bed. Indrid is now used to waking up with a tail looped around his leg or a tentacle clinging to his arm.
------------------------------------
Indrid is just drifting off when the covers slide aside and weight slithers up the bed. He opens his eyes; Duck is on his side, facing him, annoyed.
“What troubles you, my dark excellency?” Indrid nudges Ducks’ lower belly with his toes. He’s taken to calling Duck increasingly absurd things, and the monster calls him “faithful servant” or “esteemed attendant” in reply.
Tonight, Duck just sighs, “Y’know how I was supposed to do somethin important tonight, bein’ that it’s the second full moon in the month? Turns out that somethin was, ‘spread my seed among the beds of men’ so our kind will gradually overrun the surface.” He clicks his beak with a snort, “don’t that sound fun?”
“No.”
“Smart little thing, ain’t you?” Duck teases, cups Indrid’s chin, “Yeah, I said no. Problem is, apparently a second full moon makes my whole body wanna fuck, which is why that prophecy was supposed to happen tonight.”
Indrid looks down, sees something rippling under the skin at the upper part of Duck’s tail.
“I’m gonna try sleepin it off.”
His visions give him courage; Duck turns him down in most futures, but none of them end in death or bodily harm, which at his point in his life is all he asks.
“Or you could, ah, allow me to help you.”
Green eyes blink, slow and calculating, “‘Drid, that ain’t part of your job.”
“No…” Indrid scoots across the sheets, tentatively runs his fingers up Duck’s side, “but that is not why I’m offering.”
“No?” The rest of his tail joins them on the bed, curving so it traps Indrid against him, “Then why are you offerin, sweet human of mine?”
“Because I, ah, I want, that is I would very much like to know you in that way, and I thought it was allowed based on the others, I apologize if it’s not, I did not mean to-” He freezes as Duck cups his face, nipping his ear and throat with a kissing noise.
“‘Drid?”
“Y-yes, my lord of the depths?” He’s breathless, drowning in Duck’s gaze.
“Stop apologizin and take off your clothes.”
Indrid flails until nothing is between him and his monster.
“Thats better” Duck’s voice deepens, washing over him like rough waves, “now, come serve your god.” He pats what Indrid thinks of as his waist, the point where his human qualities disappear entirely.
“As you wish” Indrid tries for a coquettish smile as he straddles him, but it gives way to surprise as the slit in Ducks skin parts.
“I was not expecting tentacles. Which, given the rest of you, was naive.”
“Not usin that future vision of yours to see what’s comin’?” The webbing of Duck’s fingers is like velvet as it caresses Indrid’s chest.
“It is difficult to focus on such things when you are here. You command my attention. You always have.”
Duck flicks his tongue across Indrid’s lower lip, “Now that kind of devotion I could get used to.”
“It is yours whenever you want it.”
A tentacle emerges from his side, petting Indrid’s face, “My Indrid. You been so good for me, so faithful and true. Letting me babble about seaweed and when my claws through that pretty hair. And you just keep gettin better.”
“Please” Indrid rests his head against Duck’s chest, hugging him as best as his size will allow, “please teach me how to serve you this way too.”
“I can do that. You don’t gotta lift a finger.” Several of the tendrils that comprise his cock twine together to form a single appendage. The tentacle on his face gains a twin and the pair slide down to his ass, parting it.
Indrid’s thighs are uncooperative, struggle to get and keep him in the right position to sink down. He curses, reaches down to adjust only for a thicker tentacles to bind both wrists and yank them up above his head.
“Uh uh, I said no finger-liftin and I meant it.”
Indrid moans, his cock filling as he discovers there’s no way to free himself. He expects Duck to guide him into place with his hands. The end of his tail encircles Indrid’s hips while his claws trace arcane shapes on his skin.
“I, I did not know it was quite so dextrousOH, oh god.” The tip of that strange cock pushes in, pulsing little by little to stretch him open without pain.
“Right here.” Duck nibbles his hair with that same kissing sound, “I got you. Take such good care of my faithful human.”
“Oh god” Indrid can’t come up with anything else to express the sensation of Duck sinking deeper into his body, of how safe he feels stretched out and stretched open in the monsters hold. He tips his head back with a cry as Duck bottoms out and his cock moves fluid and disjointed all at once. It’s pulsing, thrusting him full on each inward push, yet it’s individual tendrils curve and curl within him independent of the whole.
“More, oh god, please, please never ever ever stop.”
A fond chuckle, “That good huh? Maybe that prophecy was wrong. Maybe what I’m supposed to do is fuck you full and then drop you in town so you can spread the word of how good my dick is. Be my consort and prophet all in one. Get everyone clamorin for the chance for me to fuck them.”
“No” Indrid squirms, petulant, “you’re my master. Not theirs.”
A louder laugh this time, “You gonna take the amount of fuckin I was supposed to do to a whole town yourself?” A tendril curls around Indrid’s aching cock.
“Yes” He wails, rolls his hips “you may have me as often as you please, I want you too, I’ll, I’ll be your faithful servant always.”
“You’re already somethin better; you’re my ‘Drid.” Duck twists the tendril and Indrid’s lost, his orgasm knocking breath from his chest and tears from his eyes as white spatters the green of Duck’s abdomen.
“That’s it darlin, lookit you bein so good, cummin for your master. Think it’s time for you to make good on your promise to take whatever I give you.” The tail lifts Indrid up and down as Duck cums, the monster not so much as pausing before thrusting his hips harder, “fuuuck that’s good, my perfect servant, my ‘Drid, takin me so well.”
Indrid sobs as another burst of cum enters him and a strange feeling fills his chest; he’s buzzing with blindingly bright power. It’s coming from Duck, he knows this, and in the haze of his submissive state he understands the depth of his divinity.
“Duck” he whimpers as more tentacles twist around his limbs, the god losing himself in his pursuit of pleasure, filling Indrid until his belly twinges and his eyes fight to remain open. When the god groans out the humans name a final time, Indrid is so enveloped by him he wonders if they’ll ever fully disentangle.
The monster carries him to the washroom, Indrid still squirming on his cock, and gently pulls him free to set him in the tub. A flick of his hand fills it with warm seawater.
“You okay?”
“I doubt I will be able to walk tomorrow.” Indrid smiles to show he relishes this fact.
“Guess I’ll be spendin tomorrow waitin on you.” Duck joins him in the tub, coiling protectively around him as he washes his chest and thighs.
“I thought I was the servant here?” Indrid cuddles closer, kissing Duck on the tip of his beak.
“Nah. Far as I’m concerned, we take care of each other.”
#indrid cold/duck newton#Indruck#monster march#reader requests#monster boyfriend#the author says "fuck HP Lovecraft
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realised after posting it’s actually @feanorianweek and even day 2, so have some Maglor
The sun was hidden from the sea that day, the rough waves turned murky grey in a perfect mirror image of the dull clouds overhead, both divided only by an endless pale horizon. All around, the colours had disappeared from the earth and Maglor wondered, if perhaps this was what the void looked like. An endless space devoid of colour, sound and feel.
An endless nothingness to isolate one from one’s own existence and drive one mad.
It was a far more frightening thought than any darkness or torture.
Is that what my brothers feel? he asked the only person still listening.
Does it matter? he answered his own question. He would never join them now, it had been much too long since he had failed to follow his brother’s example and throw the Silmaril into the waves with his body still attached to it. Too many years of wandering and suffering had passed, that had made his next step and the next note of his lament as unescapable as the passing of the hours and years. He had woven the mourning resonance of the Noldolantë into the music of Arda itself and himself with it.
Even if he did not care if he lived, he had been surviving for so long he thought he might not know how to die anymore.
The coarse sand and stones were biting into the soles of his bare feet as he walked, having long since discarded his worn through boots. Now the quiet crunch of his steps in the sand formed an imperfect metronome for his song.
“I fixed it.”
Curufinwë stands before him, hands outstretched and in them a little box, ticking away with the steadiness of his own heart beat.
“It was easy, Atar did not even have to show me how. Now you must not be cross with me anymore.”
Again his feet lost their rhythm, one sinking a little deeper into a puddle of water that had been hidden under the wet sand. Around his foot he could feel the pull of the waves towards the sea, dragging the sand with them and hollowing out the ground he stood upon. He stepped aside instinctively, onto a sharp shell that cut through his skin.
“Careful, Laurë!” Maitimo calls and the white towers of Alqualondë glitter behind him, shining with the colours of the Mother of Pearl fragments inlaid in their walls.
“Let me see that. Where was that head of yours again?”
He picked up the shell. Its hard, curved form was broken and the white edges ragged, now tinted pink with his blood.
“Káno, look what I found!” A smudge of silver races towards him, so fast, that his light hair whipping behind him in the wind blends into the pale morning light around him. When Tyelkormo opens his small hands they reveal a cone shell and, emerging from it, the scarlet claws of a hermit crab. “Can we please take him home with us?”
He thought his hair might be turning pale too. Grey, like that of the Edain, when their spirits and bodies started to wane after long years of sorrow and grief. His skin seemed grey as well, and sometimes he thought it was because he could see the grey sky through it. Perhaps he was just becoming a part of that greyness around him, fading into a lament on the waves, his song lost under the cry of the gulls and raging of the sea. Another gull flew over his head, so close this time that he could feel the gust of wind from its wings in his hair.
A shrill scream comes from the other side of the beach, followed by a bought of laughter.
“You sound like the gulls, Moryo!”
A dark haired elfling’s face is turning an impressive shade of red as he scowls at his brother.
“I do not!” he cries and crosses his thin arms, but when his indignation shows no effect, he quickly ducks down and picks up a handful of wet sand, hurling it towards his still laughing brother.
“Stop laughing at me, Tyelko!” he insists and the blonde’s face immediately turns grave, as he bends down in an exaggeratedly somber manner to pick up his own lump of sand.
“If this is how you want to play…” he says, and the scene quickly dissolves into childish screams of laughter.
Little wet droplets were running down Maglor’s cheeks. Ah, he thought, it must be raining.
There was an opening in the high basalt cliffs, nothing more than a crack in the dark structure looming over him, a comfortable shelter for a child perhaps, but not enough to hide a grown adult. He walked past and let his scarred hand trace the stone. It was as rough and blackened as his own scorched skin and its sharp edges seemed detached from under his unfeeling finger.
The wind blew sharper now and the dark strands of his dirty hair tangled before his eyes, obscuring his sight. He listened instead to the desperate howling of the wind trapped in the small cracks and hollows of unmoving stone.
Two red-haired children cling to him, the vibrant colour of their hair burning with the curb’s fire behind them and their identical faces are flushed with excitement and the only recently abandoned heat of the flames.
“Tell us a story Káno! About why the wind howls so. Does it sing like you do? What does it sing about?”
His hair was whipped away from his eyes again by another violent gust of wind, but the darkness stubbornly remained. Was it night already? There were no stars he could distinguish, not even in the West was his father’s creation visible to the hopeful eye. He clenched his hand and walked on, the howl of the wind lost beneath his own.
He walked until the path before him rose away from the soft sand and up on uneven stone, crumbling away under his feet as he climbed, the small pebbles falling endlessly into the abyss beside him. He would not sleep, only make one step after the other until he would drop from exertion, too exhausted for even dreams to find him, may they be horrible- or worse- good.
He stumbled.
There was a bird at his feet, the white feathers making it visible to him even in the night- no, that was the dawn breaking over the horizon.
One of the creature’s wings was twisted and its neck broken, overstretched into an unnatural position on the ground, his honey coloured beak turned away from its body as if pointing out the way ahead.
Did the storm do this to you? he asked, but the dark eyes gave no answer.
He touches the impossibly soft feathers with a trembling hand and suddenly, for the first time since he has been born into these immortal lands of Aman, he understands that even here nothing lasts forever. He thinks of his grandmother, lying as beautiful and lifeless as this little bird while his father strokes her soft hair. The bird must have a mother too, or little nestlings screaming for it, and if it doesn’t, how lonely it must have been. Perhaps it is a silly thing to anguish about, but he has a vivid imagination and a soft heart and has never seen death before.
Through his tears he sees his father hurrying from his forge, alarmed by his young son’s despairing wails.
“What is it, Makalaurë? What has happened? Are you hurt?” his father’s face is tight and pale and his hands are running over his child’s small form, trying to find the cause of his hurt, to fix it as he always does. “Please, tell me why you are weeping,” he asks again and spots the lifeless bird in the same moment. His shoulders drop in relief and his features relax into a sad smile as he pulls his sobbing son into a tight embrace. “It is alright ‘Laurë,” he whispers to him. “Everything has its time.”
He turned away from the bird and walked on as the sun rose higher into the clear, blue sky.
His father, who then had been so much younger than he must be by now, and so anxious about any sadness befalling his newly formed family.
Maitimo had been an easy child in that regard, and really in any other regard as well. Happy and content, with the sure confidence of someone who had grown up with all of his parent’s praise and attention and who, deep down, believed he deserved it. Kind and courteous to everyone and widely loved- and later admired- in return. When he had been quiet, it had been with thoughtful consideration or the comfort that needed no words. Maitimo had never been despairing.
He himself however, befitting the poet he would become, had been much more volatile. His joy had been delightfully loud but his sorrow even louder. How unsettling these first fits of despair must have been for his father, who had always lived under the shadow of his mother’s fate.
His brothers had shed tears too, of course, but they were easily quietened. Tyelko had cried in pain after falling out of a tree and Moryo often in anger. Curvo had sometimes teared up in frustration and the Ambarussa had sobbed in fear the first time they had heard the tale of their father’s mother and discovered that there might be a force in this world that could separate them after all. But Maitimo…
The hard stone under his feet had softened into dry earth and the narrow path was being overtaken by yellow and green patches of grass and finally a thick carpet of heather, the sea of small green leaves parted by spots of rose and purple flowers. A twig snapped underneath his weary feet.
The air is filled with the fragrance of blooming petals as he wanders through the labyrinth of thick green hedges and thorny bushes heavy with blossoms of every colour. Even now, thirsty and irritated as he is, he marvels at the beauty of it all, his parched throat aching to burst into a verse of song in celebration. Yet first he needs to find his brother, as his father had sent him out to do hours ago. But today Maitimo seems to have disappeared from the face of Arda entirely and his grandfather’s rose garden is his last hope. There is a spot there his brother had shown him when he had been but a little boy- his secret hiding place he had called it.
He ducks under the low branches of a young tree and carefully pushes away some of the dense shrubbery before he stills.
He hears their laughter before he sees them, sitting in the grass, a bottle of what must be grandfather’s good wine lying forgotten next to them. They are leaning against each other and speaking in hushed, excited tones, and suddenly his brother is throwing his head back and is laughing, laughing until there are tears running down his cheeks and he has to gasp for breath. He is still holding onto Findekáno’s arm as his giggling cousin wipes away his tears of mirth.
Quietly he turns away and leaves, reporting to their father that Maitimo is nowhere to be found.
The sun was high in the deep blue sky and the sea glittered faintly beneath it.
Maglor’s path lead him down again, away from the heather, towards the waves where the smell of salt perpetuated the air he still breathed. He did not hear the gulls anymore and the light breeze that seemed to caress his cheek was too weak to drown out his lament.
When his feet sank into soft sand again, the sun was already setting and suddenly the sky was set aflame in the same shade of red he had loved and hated and grieved more than anything else.
And again he walked on. Was it raining again?
And when Maglor walks the shore alone, his brothers walk with him, and on the wind his father’s voice whispers: “Why are you weeping, Makalaurë?”
#today on making myself sad at 1:30 am#maglor#i love you bby i'm sorry#makalaure#maedhros#celegorm#caranthir#curufin#ambarussa#feanor#feanorians#silmarillion#just realised it's#feanorianweek#and maglor day as well here#tis fate#golden writes
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𝕯𝖊𝖒𝖎•𝖌𝖔𝖉 ☾
𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖊
There were violent clashes of thunder, crackling across the violet purple skies of various regions of America. Raging thunder, dark grey looming clouds, and flashes of white light crackling across the sky with no hint of impending rain, or any direct strikes of lightning. There was a collective chill that ran through the spine of the Olympian gods, they knew that whenever the lightning did strike, it was definitely going to be a sign of impending doom.
The year 2000 had just come to light and Zeus, The King of Olympus was on a rampage.
“HERA, I need you to call Hades and tell him I need to see the Fates! Now! AND WHERE THE FUCK IS MY LIGHTNING BOLT?!” The blonde, bearded god bellowed in frustration. His storm gray eyes clouded over in rage as they drifted around the room searching for the silver case of his bolt, and coming up empty.
The god had gotten desperate at this point, he had thrown the couches aside, torn the pillowy white cushions apart and still no trace of his trusted instrument of mass destruction. He was frantic in his search, making the thunderous skies echo louder and louder.
He had actually acquired under eye bags from the year of not sleeping, and looked about the worst he ever had. Not even his godly beauty was saving him from looking like a zombie. And that was saying something about the immortal being that conquered the titans, ruled over the gods of Olympus, had a permanent seat on the Council of Godly Kings and watched over and protected the creatures of earth.
He had searched the massive gold and ivory palace for his godly instrument for an hour. That was about 5 hours in the mortal realm, he was absolutely livid, practically seething with rage and slightly delirious from lack of sleep.
“The nightmares are back. The nightmares are only back when he’s regained the essence of life. If he regains his strength the mortal world will crumble as he has his vengeance.” The fates’ voices that had been haunting him for half a century echoed in his head, he had been tortured by their screams for decades now and he had finally grown tired of their cries.
The gruesome nightmares had indeed returned. The visions of titans flattening the earth never seemed to stop flashing through his mind, the image of them mercilessly ripping gods apart limb by limb, and having their revenge was plaguing Zeus, and so was his fading power.
His father was gaining power and there was nothing more terrifying to the King of Olympus.
“HERA! DO YOU NOT HEAR ME? IS IMMORTALITY MAKING YOU DEAF WOMAN?” He yelled into the ceiling of his palace, using his power to project his voice through every room like a massive stereo system.
“Do I look like your slave? Call your brother yourself, I have to organize the welcome home party for Ares. He’s about to wrap up that civil war in the Middle East, Montu and him are insufferable as always. Why don’t you check your study? Maybe you left it at the office, honestly call that little nymph of yours and ask if she’s seen it. She might surprise you and actually be useful for something over then bending over your desk for once,” The brunette goddess snapped back as she angrily typed away on her phone keys. She didn’t even bother to find her raging husband in the massive palace and try to talk some sense into him, she knew better than to cross his path when he was in one of his “fits”.
He didn’t have the patience to argue or lie. He just glared at the wall opposite to him and took a deep breath. But, at least he did take the suggestion.
Glancing upwards he closed his eyes, reeling in the familiar sensation of his power surging through his veins, before reappearing in the doorway to his home study.
The familiar warmth of the large room with the huge silver model earth greeted him as always, but this time his anger didn’t let him appreciate his little oasis away from the chaos of the world.
He marched up his small staircase to the platform his globe was on, and sure enough resting under the floating sphere was his silver case.
He quickly grabbed the casing, ripping open the lid and grabbing the lightning bolt. The King of Olympus sighed in relief, feeling his power start to flow from his body into the weapon, unloading some of the stress on his body.
He quickly fished his phone out of his pocket, and dialed the number 3 on his speed dial.
“What do you want?” Was the first thing the King of the Underworld spat out as he picked up, it really wasn’t hard to believe they hadn’t spoken in more then 50 years.
“Well hello to you too brother,” he retorted back sarcastically to his older brother.
“I’m not in the mood for your shit Zeus. You haven’t returned any of my calls in a century and I have a pile of undead bodies to deal with. Tell me what you want or I will hang up,” Hades snapped back at his brother, making Zeus’s eyes go wide.
‘Shit.The undead dying is definitely not a good sign.’ The god thought to himself.
“Listen, I need you to gather the fates. Then I need you RSVP to Hera’s welcome home party for Ares because Thanatos won’t be able to help us if you don’t,” Zeus ordered, trying to not let his panic leak through his voice.
“Fine. Give me 10 minutes and they’ll be ready. Oh and tell Hera that Persephone’s going to be my date because she’s home,” he consented and then hung up. The blonde god glared at his phone in annoyance.
“Does the term king mean nothing to them anymore?” He muttered to himself before turning on his heel, slipping his phone back in his pocket and headed off to find his party planning wife.
“Well if it isn’t Mr. ‘I don’t check my voicemail for a century,’” The ruler of the underworld greeted his younger brother with a deadpan glare. His amber eyes zeroing in on his younger brother with blatant anger, and distaste as the god finally showed up.
“Listen Hades, I know that you have complaints but honestly I have my own shit to deal with. The council is meeting never seem t-,” The blonde began to argue before he was abruptly cut off with a snort.
“Complaints? No you dumbass, I have legitimate concerns. The undead are starting to disappear from their bodies and Tartarus is falling apart. If you hadn’t fucking noticed the reason we needed the prison was so NOTHING WOULD ESCAPE! You’re the king of the gods, and yet it took you a full century to come down and see for yourself what the fuck is going on. Do you think that’s okay?” Hades revealed, his black styled hair erupting into blue flames as he angrily lectured his younger brother.
“I’m going to fix this, I give you my word. But I need to see the fates now.” The blonde assured, hardening his stormy gray gaze on his older brother.
“As you wish, your majesty,” Hades bit back harshly, turning on his heel and leading the King of Olympus down the darkened path, at the crossroads of Asphodel Fields, and the Hall of Judgement in the underworld.
The end of that darkened crossroads in the underworld, housed the Fate Sisters.
The end of that darkened crossroads in the underworld, housed the Fate Sisters.
The sisters threaded, measured and cut, the thread of fate for mortals, gods and titans alike. They are in charge of when and where every living thing will die.
And it seemed the gods were beginning to feel their thread thinning, which is never good when you’re an immortal species who has seen the rise and fall of countless civilizations.
Their cave was always the same, regardless of how many years had passed and advancements the immortal world had adopted they never changed. The sisters, Lachesis, Atropos, and Clotho were fabled to share an eye, but the daughters of Nyx had sharper eyes than the goddess of the hunt and foretold the prophecies of the earth with an accuracy that frightened gods and mortals alike.
They occasionally shared prophecies with Zeus or the other members of Olympus for their own benefit, and Zeus was hoping that this was one of those times.
“Sisters, it seems the King of Olympus has finally graced us with his presence. I guess he's finally had enough of the warnings,” Clotho, the one who told the present, announced. The only normal looking adult woman in the room glared at ahead, watching keenly as the blonde god walked into their oracle room. Her sharp golden eyes zeroed in on the king of Olympus, eyeing him with evident distaste as she flipped her long, silky auburn curls over her shoulder.
The three sisters sat facing away from the entrance, at a large table with a podium holding a golden bowl with an ominous shimmering milky white colored liquid.
‘Maybe if you didn’t live in this creepy ass cave, I would feel more inclined to stop by,’ he thought as he glared back at the 3 Moirai.
“I’m afraid we require your assistance, sisters of fate. Please lend us your powers,” the god of the dead pleaded for his brother to the sisters, but they didn’t even glance his way.
“Oh we know. You’ve felt him, haven't you king? You know the threat you are facing now boy?” Atropos, the one who told the future, questioned the blonde god, making his sharp gray gaze snap to her. The older grey haired woman met his hardened glare head on, making a shiver run down the God’s spine.
“If you know the threat we are facing, you know that you need us just as much as we need you. You know that if they get out then they will have no mercy on anyone, much less you. So stop with the ominous bullshit and help us,” Zeus finally snapped at the sisters, making them let out howls of mocking laughter.
“Alright son of Cronus. We will lend you our assistance, but just know; our power comes at a price. If we are to help you spin fate to your favor, you will owe us something. And do believe when it comes time we will collect,” Clotho, agreed as she finally turned to face the god.
All 3 sisters of fate have glowing golden eyes, golden eyes eyes that rarely anyone lived to describe. The second you met the eyes of the sisters of fate, any normal human’s heart stops. But a god, a god looking into the eyes of fate makes time stand still. Those golden eyes that have seen countless lives begin and end, they are eyes with no trace of mercy.
Those eyes were putting fear into the king of Olympus.
“Fine, I accept your price. Now help me,” the king of Olympus agreed reluctantly and suddenly the deal was sealed.
A bright white light began to pour out of the podium bowl, the white light engulfed the room blinding the two brothers who quickly covered their eyes.
“FUCK! MY EYES!” Zeus complained as he clutched his face in pain while images of a large university campus flooded his mind.
There was a girl, she had caramel colored hair and cerulean eyes with flicks of emerald green. She was standing valiantly on the campus, in front of a large red and black dragon, and she was holding what looked like a glowing ruby encrusted sword. She stood facing 3 boys below her with a proud smile on her face, and they were all glancing up at her in adoration and awe. Despite them being in a ring of fire, surrounded by piles of rubble and ruin, they didn’t look the least bit phased as the ground around them crumbled.
“These are the main saviors of Olympus. They will be the ones who bring salvation to gods, humans and monsters alike. The new generation of hero’s are kin of the gods, to save the realm of mortal, dead and immortal alike, you will have to train the demigods to rise and fight. For they can restore your powers to their former glory with their heroic acts. They will inspire faith to the humans and thus your golden age will be revived. But beware for this will be no easy task, the gods of Olympus aren’t the only ones needed for this pact. Now go forth king, gather your subjects and order them to lie with mortals once more. For your salvation lies in your children, they must save you once more.” The 3 sisters echoed together as Hades and Zeus stood glancing at the kids curiously.
“Well it’s a good thing we’re having a party. Looks like I have an announcement to make,” Zeus let out, bewildered by the prophecy and vision. Hades felt a shiver run down his spine for the first time in centuries, the older god couldn’t believe his eyes. The fates were smiling with anticipation, eager to see the story the weaved unfold.
The fate of Olympus was in the hands of 4 kids.
Yup, they were truly screwed
“Zeus this is crazy, there is no way this is going to fucking work. You’re going to unleash magic on the mortals again? How do you think this is going to go? Because I can paint you a pretty clear picture, and its not looking all that great.” The ruler of the Underworld ranted off to his brother, who was staring off into the distance trying to block him out.
“Yeah this isn’t looking great Zeus, the oceans have been stirring for the past century, the mere-people need more space and I don’t exactly have the power to expand. They face exposure and you made it clear the humans of this era are not to be trusted. The tensions are going to lead to a civil war and the seal above the sea of monsters is falling apart. The Sirens brought in a Scylla egg this morning, if that thing is reproducing we don’t have the power to restrain it anymore.” Poseidon revealed, making Zeus groan and Hades let out an exasperated “THANK YOU!”
“Okay why is it that everyone has a fucking complaint, but the moment when I offer a solution you all dismiss it. Need I FUCKING remind you both who is KING. If the Morai have offered us this opportunity then we have no choice. Are you not tired of being powerless? Because I am.” He snapped back, turning to face both his brothers in anger.
“We are gods, the humans of today have forgotten what it’s like to fear divinity. They have forgotten what it is to have faith, to pray, and they have even forgotten what it is to have power. If the veil must fall for us to regain what’s ours, then let it fall. Maybe then those ingrates will learn to worship once more.” He continued, walking over to his black leather arm chair. He sat down, glaring at the two in front of him with such conviction they had no choice but to agree.
“I’ve made the order: go down to earth and create heirs. We have a generation of heroes to make, and do assure they’ll be strong enough to survive the trials. I would hate a repeat of the last batch of demigods.”
And with that, the order was given and the plan was set in motion.
#demi•god#demi•god masterlist#Nikoela Dimas#Ares#Aphrodite#Zeus#Poseidon#Hades#Persephone#Hermès#Dionysus#greek mythology#college au#demigod x demigod#demigods#greek goddesses#greek gods#greek myth
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