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horrorartsworld · 4 months

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revenge is sweet pt. 2

lucifer/demon f!reader

a/n: for all the babies that wanted a part two!!

warnings: rough sex if you squint, lucifer being possessive because he can, daddy kink, slapping, spanking, brat taming, not proofread 😵‍💫

here’s part one if you missed it!!

(little recap:)

"HE DID WHAT?!"

Rubbing the back of your arm sheepishly as you stood there watching Lucifer's eyes turn red as his demon form became more prominent, teeth snarling as he came closer to you. "Well... hehe...we'll just have to fix that, won't we my love?" danger laced in his voice as he closed the space between you two.

"I'm fucked."

In all your years of knowing him you’ve never seen him this upset to the point he seemed as if he was loosing it. Loosing it at the thought that little shit for brains actually one upped him, let alone with his own wife. IN HIS OWN WIFE IN FACT.

“Oh you have no idea…” he spoke threateningly with a hidden promise you knew all too well. However, your fiery attitude from earlier never died down, so you weren’t gonna back down without a proper fight.

“Are you really surprised though? You’ve been away for weeks, practically months without even trying to see me, let alone be with me, your wife!” you finally snap thinking back at why this all happened in the first place. Lucifer only scowled at the thought, narrowing his red eyes at you.

“Doesn’t mean you can run around and be an unfaithful whore” he says in an unsettlingly calm tone making that fire you thought you had just now fizzle out within an instant, causing you to shift uncomfortably in front of him.

“Still…you fucking left me Luci…and you know how i get when i’m alone and you didn’t even bother to call me,” you cross your arms over your chest looking away from him and out the window to the streets of hell as it seemed more wild around this time of night.

He runs a hand through his hair, laughing to himself in visible frustration but he still tried to tone it down while he looked you over. “Listen…” he said sternly yet still keeping this calm persona, his voice the only thing echoing in your ears. “Whatever you say or do from this point forward will have consequences to your actions, so i suggest you be a good girl and stop spouting nonsense to get you out of what’s about to happen.” you genuinely couldn’t believe what you’re hearing, facing him once more, your brattiness on full defense mode as you persisted on letting him hear your side.

“And why should i listen to you? It’s not like you’re bothering to listen to what i have to say right now.” you spat, the corner of your mouth twitching up in a snarl. Simply chuckling, Lucifer’s hand found it’s way into your hair with an unsuspecting tight grip, fist unforgiving as you were yanked down to your knees.

“Now is that any way to talk to your overlord sweetheart?”

You yelped softly as your knees burned with the sudden contact they just had with the floor, the unmissable low tone of his dominance causing your nerves to spiral.

“Hm?” He probed, hand pulling your hair even more taught as he pulled you closer to his clothed crotch, your cheek coming into contact with his hard-on while he rutted against it making your throat run dry.

You felt like you were having an out of body experience, this kind of intimidation and authority coming from Lucifer wasn’t like him and it seemed as though it was having quite the effect on you.

“Speak. Now.” he reprimanded, using his hold on your hair to crane your neck back to look up at him in all his glory.

“Mm- I’m sorry..” your voice coming out more pitiful and meek then you hoped, opposite of your heated speech from earlier.

Holding your breath you watched a sinister smile crept onto your husband’s face causing your heart to drop to your ass, quivering uneasily in his hold he nods gesturing to his hard-on strained so eagerly now against his nice dress pants.

“Oh i know baby, but you gotta prove it” his hand slipping out from your hair, but his hold on you was still evident even though it wasn’t physical anymore.

His sinister smile very much still plastered on his snake like mouth, watching as you loop your fingers in his belt loops and pull his lower half towards your face. You undo his belt with much delicacy, watching the straining fabric as it came into view, your once dry mouth watering instantly.

You pull out his hardened cock, the tip flushed red, angry and spewing precum, kitten licking it and then giving a light kiss to the tip just to sweeten him up a bit.

Lucifer not being able to hold in his reactions as he shivers, letting out tiny puffs of air as he watches you carefully kiss down his shaft. And after a while of you prolonging it he grabs your hair once more, pulling you back from his cock.

"That’s enough.." he grumbles, when you desperately try to put your mouth back on it again. "You had enough time to make this about you, this about me now. Open your mouth and stick out your tongue."

Brows furrowing in confusion while you try not to pout, you lean back on your heels doing just as he says with your mouth open and waiting. Your lashes batting up at him as you watch him tower over you, putting his legs on either side of your thighs while holding his length directly in front of mouth stroking himself up and down.

Small breathy moans escape his lips as his head is then thrown back with his lip caught between his teeth. You wanted nothing more than to have this picture burned in the back of your brain as he looked so beautiful.

He curses under his breath practically thinking the same thing as you, seeing you sitting there so obediently and drooling for his seed.

“Hungry for daddies cum aren’t you?” slapping his tip against your tongue, you nod eagerly feeling him start to tease it into your mouth.

A hand wrapping around it instinctively helping him get closer, pumping him and moving your head in a bobbing motion causing him to growl above you.

He then without warning thrusts deep hitting the back of your throat making you gag, tears welling up in your eyes whilst his hand holds your head in place, not giving you a second to breathe. Thrusting a few more times before his hot seed spills into your throat, purposely pulling out and letting your spit fall down your chin.

You sallow the salty substance and then take a much needed breath, that was short lived when he reaches down to grab you by the throat pulling you up to his level. Your knees aching from being in that kneeling position for longer than you thought. “Who owns you?”

“Y-you do…” you muster out, he then holds you away from him as he slaps you lightly a few times, putting everything in him not to go further to ruin your pretty face, but just enough for it to sting.

“Say it better then that~” he gritted through his teeth, cowering in his hold you try everything in you to say it like he wanted.

“You own me!~” you shout with a pitiful whine following.

“Oh that’s my good girl…You fucking know who owns this body and you better not forget it…”

Once you got the notion of it possibly being over, you were wrongfully mistaken as you were thrown onto the bed with your backside facing him. The hole in your fishnets still very much there from when you and Adam were at it causing Lucifer grimace, throwing a harsh smack to your ass, your body jolting with the impact.

“Count..” he demands ripping your fishnets more to where they were basically off of you, shivering underneath him as you felt the warmth of his hand print spreading amongst your cheek.

“O-one…”

He spanked you again harder this time, across the center of your ass, and you whimpered.

"Mhmph..again..." he moaned softly with you while soothing your stinging skin. Before spanking you the second time, but on your right.

"Two!" You gasped against the sheets when he immediately spanked another time. “T-Three!”

He spanked you again and again about eight more times, and left sweet kisses down your neck for taking it so good to him.

“D-daddy…i….mm- please~” you look back at him behind you with pleading eyes, your clit radiating with heat that couldn’t go ignored much longer.

“Please what baby?” he mocked sweetly, feeling his cock twitch just at your words and the pout taking place on your face.

“Pleeeeease fuck me daddy…i-i need you so bad~” you cry out wanting nothing more to be filled by the one who owned you.

A low growl admits from him as your naughty words were rewarded gratefully once he finally made his way in, stretching your walls so deliciously making you tremble as you adjusted. Not shortly after he started rocking his hips slowly into you then finally finding a good pace that made you mewl uncontrollably.

“Such a dumb slut you are baby….getting filled by two different cocks in one day…fuuuuck…but you know daddies is better huh?…” he coos at you in a baby voice as if he wasn’t fucking you senseless into the mattress.

If you weren’t already out of your wits end you would have realized this was brought back upon the rivalry once more, but at the end of it was nether of the men who won this war.

It was you who had got fucked for most of it.

Which not even a couple months later you came up pregnant.

Now the real war is who’s the baby daddy?

(i know this is a wack ass ending but i thought it was funny 💀)

#☆⋆｡𖦹 my writings #☆⋆｡𖦹 lucifer #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin imagine #lucifer hazbin #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar smut #lucifer x reader #lucifer smut

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koemiexists · 3 months

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Hey! Can I get dom!Lucifer x fem! Reader pretty pls? Like I love him being a sub, but I don't think there's enough smut of him being a dom 🙏🏽

Accidentally Taking Souls

summary: you accidentally sold your soul to lucifer, and he accidentally accepted it. it only happens every one in twelve million five hundred fifty seven thousand souls! which also means, you're the first. tags: PANIC ATTACK, comfort, biting, porn with plot basically, not very good friends, dom!lucifer, drunken confessions, but not DRUNKEN sex, choking (consensual), fingering, breeding kink, surprise at the end word count: 4k a/n: this was already sorta on my to-do list, a lucifer x reader shot, then alastor x reader x lucifer shot, but it also fit your ask so !! apologies for delays :) i'm getting to them (a bit slowly...)

Truthfully, you weren’t religious. Your mother had always been, however. She would drag you to church, and make you pray almost all the time. Once you moved out for college, you never looked back.

When she died, she left nothing to you, but a single slip of paper. ‘Don’t sin.’

You truly didn’t care at that point, you didn’t believe in everything she had spewed, and continued to warn you about, even in death.

She had always warned you about your friends, telling you that they were demons who had risen from Hell to make you sin. It was truly baffling for her to spout her nonsense, especially in front of your friends themselves.

And yet, those very same friends were on your living room floor, staring at you with various smiles of pure delight.

“You want me to do what?”

“It’s not a want, (Name)... It’s a dare.”

You groaned; you were tired of this. “Why are you daring me to sell my soul? To the devil?”

One of your friends just smirked. “He’s not real, right? You shouldn’t have a problem.”

Blinking, you just took a deep breath, and shrugged your shoulders. “You’re right.” You said simply, and sat down.

One of the girls had unfurled from her position on the floor, digging into her bag. “Here.” She started, beginning to take out various things. “I can help you!”

You furrowed your eyebrows, thoroughly confused. “I don’t just say ‘have my soul devil’?”

“Damn (Name), I didn’t expect you to be that dumb.” She joked, bringing a needle to your hand. “No, it doesn’t go like that. If the deal is accepted, you’ll be in Hell.... maybe. That’s what the occult book told me.” She shrugged, pricking your finger, and dropping blood messily. “I just have to draw some runes...”

After the entire ordeal was over, especially the disastrous game of truth and dare, you retired for the night, concluding that you didn’t want to be up any longer and overthink what just happened.

Your friends had cheerily bid you goodbye, and you had waved them away, telling the group you’ll talk to them in a few days.

The last thing you could remember was the pleasant feeling of your sheets, and the cool squishmallow in your arms.

You awoke slowly, you felt as if you were drifting away... and then you felt someone poke at you.

Dismissing it, you turned away, until it registered in your head. Someone poked you.

You lived alone.

Jolting up in your bed, you looked around. There was a man towering you, grinning sheepishly. You let out a yell, keeping your plushie close to you as you kicked off the sheets covering you, falling off the bed.

Except that didn’t make sense, because your bed was just a mattress on the floor! It was close to the ground, and yet you dropped a good few inches from the ground.

Fear was coursing through your veins, and you felt an overwhelming sense of dread, followed by a serene calmness- but your adrenaline was still pumping, and your inner voice was screaming at you to get up, run run run run run RUN!

You jolted, trying to maneuver yourself to get up and start running away except when you glanced down you started to scream because of your skin tone-- it was a weird hue, definitely not natural, definitely not yours.

“Hey! Calm down- girl- fuck- bitch, calm down!” You let out a hiccup as your eyes flickered from your hands to the man. He seemed to be fiddling with something, before dropping it and orienting you.

“Sorry,” He huffed, and you managed to get a good look at him. His skin was milky white, and he had platinum blonde hair that was swooped locks. You looked away again, and he gently put you back on the bed. “Don’t fall off again.”

You sniffled, nodding. “Shit.... I don’t even know how this happened. Usually this is when people sell their souls... but I never...” He paused his pacing and muttering, turning to you.

Your hair was obstructing your face as you stared down at your lap, but when he approached you, you instantly stared at him. “Did you sell your soul... to me?”

“You aren’t the Devil.” You said instantly, before clapping a hand over your mouth. “I-”

The man just laughed. “No, you can call me Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar.” He smirked, his grin wide and toothy as he looked at you with lidded vermillion eyes. “The ruler of Hell.”

You stared, mouth ajar.

And then laughed, boisterous and teetering to purely unsettling.

Lucifer stared at you as you laughed, and laughed... and wait-! No, you were still laughing.

“What’s so funny?” He huffed, a hand on his hip as you still was chuckling, tears in your eyes.

“Okay, I’m having a crazy lucid dream!” You snorted, and searched for a clock, staring at it intensely.

Lucifer cocked his head. “What are you doing?”

“Weird.” You muttered, staring at the clock even more. Why weren't the hands going haywire? Why was it normal?

You turned your eyes to your hands, studying it. It was... fine. Nothing was abnormal besides the fact your skin was a different color. You felt yourself panicking again, and you closed your eyes, willing for something different to happen.

Your panic began to increase dramatically as you heaved, tearing up as you looked at the clock again. You tried to take in breaths, but it was hard to even register that your lungs were burning.

Hands were gripping your wrists. You felt sick. Your head was pounding, and you knew you had to be yelling, because your throat ached and was scratchy. You could barely see, but you kept thrashing.

After a while, you felt all your energy zapped from you, you just slumped, sniffling and trying to catch your breath. Blearily, you watched as a muddled version of Lucifer appeared in front of you, looking you over.

“Ok?” He whispered, and you blinked slowly, tilting your head at him slowly. “Is- Did you settle? Uhm. Are you a bit okay now?”

You shrugged, and he wiped your tears, gently gathering you in his arms. His limber figure made his way to what appeared to be a bathroom, and your eyes widened at the sight of a huge bathtub. On the sides were a bunch of rubber ducks.

Lucifer gave you a mischievous look as he placed you down after stripping you down to your underwear, running the water warm.

“I made them.” He said, placing only certain ones in the water. “Some of these definitely cannot go in.” He moved a light blue one off to the side. “It produces voltage,” Lucifer explained, getting some bubble bath soap, and pouring it over the running water. In an instant, bubbles began to form around you.

You gave him a look. Because, really? Voltage duck?

He pouts a little. “I just... I made them.... Why not? It’s entertaining!”

You don’t know how creating ducks can be entertaining.

Lucifer gave a huge dramatic sigh, pushing his hair back, and bemoaned your inability to see how delightful his ducks were.

“You’re weird,” You uttered, your voice extremely scratchy. Lucifer winced, and quickly whirled his hand, a water bottle appearing.

“Here,” He said, motioning the water. “It’s cold.” It was cold. “Icy too.” Okay... “Maybe even...” You looked at him, as the water in your mouth began to get colder. “Pure ice.” Your mouth was beginning to get cold, really quickly. “Haha- sorry, bad prank?” Would it even be classified as a prank? More of an inconvenience, especially with how parched you were.

You stared at him silently, drinking more of the cold water that he provided. “So... I’m dead?” You whispered, glancing down at the bubbly surface.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t expect to go to Hell so soon.” You muttered, looking around inconspicuously. It was very grand, fit for a king indeed.

Lucifer furrowed his brows, confused at your statement. “You knew you were going to Hell?”

You smiled gently. “Never listened to my mom. Super religious. Wasn’t my style.”

He hummed in response, and helped you finish cleaning up. You felt tired afterwards, and just wanted to sleep now that everything was done. Lucifer led you to a guest bedroom, sprucing up the surroundings a little. He gently tucked you in, and you gave a small noise of appreciation.

“I’ll show you around, later.”

You yawned, nodding.

“My daughter...” He had a daughter? “She has a hotel.”

“Mmm.”

Lucifer smiled at your sleepy sounds. “Supposed to redeem sinners.”

You turned over, groaning. “Go away... I don’t care...” You slurred, sleep clouding your head like a fog. “Ngh... wait.” You blinked rapidly, turning back to Lucifer. “What?”

He smirked. “Redemption of sinners?” He repeated, giving you a teasing look.

“Is it possible?!”

Lucifer inhaled. “I... don’t know. Maybe? I just like to support my daughter’s dreams.” He pauses. “Even if it’s a bit far-fetched, she believes in it.” Another huge pregnant pause. “If it does work, you won’t become a human, you’ll just be an angel.”

You turned away again. “Ugh.”

He snorted, and fixed your blankets. “Goodnight,” He crooned, placing a small rubber duck on your dresser. “You have to wake up really early tomorrow!”

He cackled when you just groaned.

After a few days of living like this, Lucifer deemed you ready to meet his daughter. When you inquired why before you couldn’t he just muttered about some sinner that would rip you to shreds. You didn’t really understand, but he seemed to hate that one sinner with a passion, so your questioning didn’t continue past that.

He led you to a huge building that had the words Hazbin Hotel in big letters at the top. You glanced at the infrastructure, cringing at some of the design choices. It was surely unique, although you knew it definitely needed some sprucing up.

“It’s pretty,” Was all that came out of your mouth. Lucifer gave you a half-hearted noise of acknowledgement, ringing the bell. You heard light footsteps, and as soon as the door began to open, Lucifer burst past it.

“CHARLIE!”

“Hi dad...”

You shifted from foot to foot, waiting for them to see you. “Oh!” There they go. “Sorry, sorry! Uh- how are you? What’s your name?” Charlie began to babble, leading you inside with gentle hands. “I’m Charlie!”

Lucifer was right by your side again, causing you to stumble. “(Name),” You offered weakly, gaining your balance again as Lucifer began to chuckle lowly next to you. “I...”

“She’s with me,” Lucifer said smoothly, smirking. “I have a favor to ask of you, Char-Char.”

Her attention was instantly on her father, head cocked to the side barely, questioning.

“She... accidentally sold her soul to me.” He started off slowly, and Charlie gave him a weird look.

“So? She shouldn’t be here unless you accept... Dad!” She yelled out at the end, and Lucifer winced. “How did you accidentally accept a soul??”

He groaned. “By accident, of course! Listen Charlie-”

“That poor girl-”

You looked back and forth tiredly, before clearing your throat. “What’s done is done,” You started, glaring at Lucifer lightly. “Besides, Luci has been helping me get accustomed to my new world. But we were hoping you knew how to redeem sinners so I can be redeemed.”

Charlie began to shift nervously. “Well- we don’t have a set method.”

You stared at her.

“We don’t have one sinner who’s been redeemed... yet.”

“Yet.” You parroted, giving her a blank look.

She bit her lip lightly. “Yes, yet. I’m sorry (Name), we are only just starting and I know being in Hell was a mistake.”

You felt numb, and can only barely register how Lucifer had lifted you up, pulling you away and whispering apologies against you. “Sorry,” He murmured, and you let out a soft sigh due to his hand on your scalp. “I’m so sorry, I thought she would have found a way already...”

“No need to apologize,” You huffed, blinking away unshed tears as he calmed you down. You still felt extremely upset, but it wasn’t truly anyone's fault.

Lucifer gave you an apologetic look still, before putting you down. You looked around, blinking. “Where are we?”

“Guest room,” Lucifer replied, fixing the sheets as you gained your bearings. The couch was ratty, with small tears on the cushions; the back of it was dingy, yet when you moved, it stayed steady despite the obvious damages.

You got up, and he motioned to the bed, smiling at you gently. “Want to sleep? It’s getting a bit late already.”

Confused, you gave him an inquiring look. He smiled sheepishly, motioning to the clock. “It’s the evening, I think your perception is a bit skewed...”

Right, your outburst. “Sorry,” You said, feeling guilty.

Lucifer just waved you off. “Do you want to sleep?” He asked, and you shook your head, looking at the door.

“Is there a place to get a drink?” You just wanted to get drunk, if you were being honest.

He hummed. “There’s a bartender, apparently.” He replied, taking your hand into his. “Steady,” He spoke lowly, as you stumbled a bit, letting him lead you down the hall.

You both made it to the bar, where you practically threw yourself at the stool, asking the bartender, apparently named Husk, to make you a strong drink.

He merely grunted in acknowledgment, turning away to start mixing it. Lucifer grinned toothily at you, before he turned around to go be with his daughter.

One drink turned into two, then into three, and before you knew it you were seven drinks in, and you were giggling with Angel, a patron at the hotel.

“You’re really,” You paused, hiccuping due to how fast you drank your last shot. “Really interesting, Angel.” Your words were slurred, and almost hard to decipher. Angel, however, understood you completely considering he was also tremendously drunk.

“Thank you, sweet thing.” He smirked, his gold tooth glittering in the light as he moved closer to you. He smelled like artificial fruits, and you wrinkled your nose in distaste, bile swirling right beneath your esophagus. “So, Short king is with ya?”

You nod, still fighting the urge to retch at the stench of his perfume. “Uhn, yeah, he is. I, uhm... made a deal with him, apparently,” You slurred, pausing almost every word you said. “Sorry, your perfume smells gross.”

Angel rolled his eyes, throwing two of his hands up. “Ugh! Val made me wear it for today’s shoot-”

“Why?” You nearly whined, scooting backwards as Angel began to spray a different perfume.

He sighed. “I work sex, babe.” When you cocked your head to the side, he began to rephrase his drunken words. “I’m a porn star.”

You flushed at that, and shrugged lightly. “Each to their own I guess...”

Humming, Angel brought another drink to his mouth, downing it in one go. “On the topic of sex,” He slurred, smirking as Lucifer slowly approached you two. “Who would you have sex with here? Based on appearance.” He hiccuped.

“Lucifer is super hot,” You giggled, biting your lip lightly as you stood up, swaying at your spot. “I wouldn’t mind having him fuck me, I need a good pound.” You dissolved into light giggles, finding the idea of fucking the ruler of Hell amusing, getting him worked up by a lowly sinner...

You yelped when a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight. “Don’t squirm,” Lucifer said lightly, raising his hand to stroke your hair. “I’m taking you to bed. You’re drunk.”

“I’m not,”

A laugh came from in front of you, and you glared at Angel as he smiled even wider, smug. “Bye, (Name). Remember to not gag-!”

His voice was cut off as light swarmed your vision. You shut your eyes tight, feeling your stomach roll in pain as your surroundings became the guest room. “Hngh,” You whined, collapsing onto the bed. “Mm, Luci...”

Lucifer stroked your head as you chugged the water he gave, before he ushered you to bed to sleep the liquor off.

Your eyes were shut the instant he had dropped your head back on the pillow.

When you awoke, your head instantly began to pound, before tapering off to a light throbbing. You blinked, and turned to look to the side where the warmth was radiating. “Hi,” Lucifer smiled at you, his expression sleepy as his wings stretched from his back. “You’re awake.”

“And hungover,” You groaned, rubbing at your temples.

You screeched when your wrists were pinned above your head, and Lucifer was on top of you, straddling your hips. In this position, with you staring up at him, he truly did look angelic. His hair was messy, strewed in different directions. The glow from the light on a dresser behind him illuminated certain visible parts of him to you, and it just gave him such an ethereal glow.

You sucked a breath in as he shifted, his wings spreading out from his back, and you could almost imagine that golden halo on top of his head right now.

“Do you want this?” He uttered, voice deep with sleep and slightly gravelly. Arousal bloomed in your abdomen as you nodded quickly. “Words, ducky.”

“Yes.” You nearly whined, and he grinned, teeth all showing.

He practically pounced after that, ripping your bottoms off, and instantly his claws were at your underwear, shredding it with a flick of his wrist. Lucifer let out a growling noise as he leaned into you, thrusting a single finger into your awaiting cunt.

Slick was dripping down his hand after a few thrusts, messy and almost disgusting as wet slapping sounds quickly reverberated throughout the bedroom.

“Dripping, all for me?” He teased, beginning to lightly rub your clit with his thumb as he nipped at your neck and chest. “I just need to put my claim on you.”

You moaned, shaking at his ministrations. “Bite me,” You whispered softly before you broke on a high pitch whimper.

His teeth gleamed as he smirked at you, before surging forward to bite you right between your shoulder and neck, his sharp teeth digging deep into your skin before he pulled away.

You let out a sob at the pain, then a moan as he sped up with his fingers. “Sorry,” He said, guilt filling his voice slightly as he looked at you with lidded eyes. You weakly watch as he gently moves his other hand over the bleeding wound as the pain eased into slight numbing.

“I liked it,” You murmured, kissing him again, and biting his lip as you rolled your hips into his hand.

He let out an indistinguishable noise, before he thrusted his hand deep in you, watching as you came all over his hand, liquid shooting all over his arm.

“Good?” He asked, kissing you softly, before pulling away, licking at his fingers that were soaked in your release.

You nod, smiling as he beamed lightly at you. Moving slightly, you pulled your legs up, leaving your cunt more exposed for him. “Take me, Luci.” You had whined, cunt fluttering at the thought of his cock in you.

Lucifer flushed, his cheeks becoming a darker ruddy color, as he took off his pants. His thick cock slapped his thigh, and both of you giggled at the noise. “Sorry,” He laughed lightly, but you just shook your head smiling.

“It’s okay to be a bit silly, Luci.” You had said quietly, breath hitching as he entered you.

Lucifer sank deep into your cunt, inhaling sharply as you squeezed him. You had yet to indicate you wanted him to move, inhaling and exhaling lightly as you eased up around him.

You nodded, but he still hadn’t moved. His face was extremely red as he stayed still, his breath labored. You furrowed your eyebrows, moving slightly as your cunt squeezed then relaxed around him. “Luci, are you o-”

Before you could finish your sentence, he pulled almost fully out, his flushed tip just barely stretching your cunt. You looked up at him as he shoved his cock inside again, slamming into you. “Mm- Lucifer-” You tried to speak, but he just kissed you, your tongues entwining as small noises of pleasure emitted from you.

He pulled away, panting as his hair became more messed up from his movements. “Want me to stop?” He paused, to see what you needed.

You growled lightly, wrapping your legs around his waist and bucking your hips. He let out a small yelp, grasping your hips in a bruising manner. “Okay!” He kissed you, and slammed into you again. “Okay, you want me that badly huh? My pretty baby. All wet and slick for m-”

He paused as he was pulling out when you let out a whimper. “Daddy,” You had said quietly, nearly inaudibly.

“What?”

You flushed this time, looking off to the side as you worried your lip between your teeth. “Sorry, I...”

Lucifer gently wrapped his hand around your neck, and when you snapped your head to look at him, he smirked, gently squeezing, before his grip became lax again. When you nodded, indicating you were okay with it, he grinned.

“My girl, all wet for her daddy. Such a slut for me, aren’t you? When we fuck, ducky, you look at me. When I kiss you, you think about me. When I impregnate you, you look at me. Understood?”

You wailed in pleasure, cunt gripping his thick cock. “Yes daddy! I understand,” You blabbed, and you took a deep inhale right as Lucifer squeezed your neck.

“Do you even deserve to be fucked by me?” He asked, rubbing your clit lightly. As you began to teeter over the edge, he stopped all movements, looking at you. “I asked you a question.”

You heaved, gripping at his hand. “N-no,” You choked out, and he released his grip, kissing your neck. “Daddy,” You whimpered, watching as Lucifer pulled away to adjust your position. He had your lower half fully bent now, your knees nearly touching the bed as he grasped your waist, shoving his cock back inside you.

Screaming at the new found spot he hit, you began to earnestly moan, loud noises coming from your mouth as every thrust he made hit your sweet spot perfectly. “Ah- ah!” You bit your lip, causing it to bleed. Lucifer leaned in, sucking your lip into his mouth, before he caught your mouth in an open kiss, licking at your tongue.

“Good girl,” He purred, shoving his thick cock deeper and deeper inside you. “I’m going to make you into a mommy, do you want to be a mother? For me?” You felt your orgasm approach as you nodded, whimpering at the idea of your belly becoming swollen with a child.

He kissed you, and you bit his lip as you came, your legs shaking as you inhaled deeply, jerking at the aftershocks as Lucifer continued to thrust, pace off. Jackhammering into you for another moment, he stopped, his cock deep inside you as he groaned, cum coating your walls.

You felt gross, but he merely gently rubbed at the small bulging in your lower abdomen, sighing. “Good?” He inquired, kissing your cheek.

“Good,” You confirmed, beaming tiredly.

A month had passed, and you were chatting idly with Charlie.

“So,” You started, smiling lightly. “I have news.”

She grabbed your hands, eyes bright. “What is it? Oh! Did you find someone to stay at the hotel? Did you find some staff? Is there some news happening in Pentagram City? Wait! Let me guess, did a new restaurant open up-”

You laughed, calming her down as you smiled cheekily. “No, not any of that.” Pausing as Lucifer went up to sit by you. “Me and Luci,” You started, glancing at him. “Are expecting.”

Charlie froze. “Huh? Expecting what? A package?”

Lucifer grinned widely, as his daughter slowly began to understand. “You’re going to be a big sister, Char-Char!”

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iloveyouinred · 8 months

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Neuvillette x Reader Part 2

𓇬♡ | Warning: NSFW, creampie, size kink, mention of dragon something, sprinkle of possessive behavior.

Part 1 | Part 2

Poor Neuvillette, being forgotten by his darling stranger.

After he fuck the life out of you that one time you messed with him, you decided to avoiding him at all cost. Eventually, it becomes a habit that after quite a while, he is completely out of your mind. You were too busy preparing for a long trip to Sumeru to visit an old friend. That you don't really pay a mind to the chief of justice that has been chasing your tail ever since you left his office that day.

"Oh it DID happen.." You think to yourself as he closes one arm around your waist. Cornering you with others. In the panic state your brain stops working and spouts the worst nonsense possible.

"Sorry, who are you again?"

At this question he blinked. How in the world did this girl who lured him into an act of intimacy the other day, forget who he is. Was he just another pretty stranger in your eyes?

"You forgot me already?" He asks, kind of disappointed. You shift your eyes to avoid his gaze. Hand grabbing his wrist to push it away from your waist. But his hold around you is firm.

"I shall make you remember then." He says with a hint of smile. You look at him only to catch a glimpse of his knowing eyes. Before he go down to kiss your neck.

"No! Wait-"

Your voice goes unheard as he push your back up against the walls of a building. You want to curse him for thinking about doing it in the alleyway. But who are you to judge when you, yourself, seduce him in his own office. He pushes himself on you, pressing your body between him and the walls. You hold on his neck, legs hooked on his hips like magnets from different side. Your body clings into him helplessly with his hands groping your ass behind those fitting clothes. You take a sharp breath as you feel him grinding himself against you. The huge bulge rubbing against your damp panties.

"Neuvillette!" You yelled his name with heart beating anxiously. He stops, staring at your face waiting for you to say something.

"Yes, (Y/n)?" You swallow your own words before wording it as simply as you can with a trembling voice.

"At- at least not in public." Is what you manage to squeak out under the man's intimidating gaze. You try to stick your gaze everywhere except for his face, just because it will explode(your heart). Like you were not one who seduced him and fuck him in the first place. You can feel his hot breath on your skin. And the dark red in his face. You know he can't really wait any longer.

"Just once." You were not sure what 'once' he was referring to. But Neuvillette has your lower part exposed to him as quick as he said it, resting his fingers inside your gummy walls. He curls them in you, exploring your inside with a quick shove here and there. The spots he aimed were all right, sending a tingling sensation to your body. It seems as if he knows your body much more than you, yourself. Just from that one time. A high pitch moan escapes your lips as he hits the right spot again. His two long fingers continuously stimulate your hole, spreading it to let your orgasm wet his hands. You are afraid your sound can be heard so you bite his shoulder with a muffled moan. While he keeps on shoving those fingers in and out your lower lips. You gush around him a few times before he finally stops. Pulling his finger out, you feel limp against his hold. You are still trembling, feeling the aftermath of your powerful orgasms, when you feel his length slides in between your folds before forcing the tip in. The sensation of his huge cock entering you was overwhelming, you scratch his back, tears welling up at the corner of your eyes. A choked moan as you gush around him for the who-knows-how-many times.

He noted how sensitive your body has become to come on him penetrating your inside alone. He continues to push himself into you. Feeling your soft walls clenching around him nicely. Once he is fully inside, tips prodding against your womb entrance, he gives you a while to adjust to his length. Before he starts pounding and makes your eyes roll back. You have become a babbling mess by this time. Droll drip down your lolled out tongue as the huge cock rammed into you. Forcing your inside to fit him alone. You feel your toes curl as he hits deep inside of you. The pace of his thrusts are quick and sharp, forcing you to cling on him tighter. It feels like your brain goes numb from all the orgasms before he finally sends a deep final thrust with warm liquid flowing inside of you. It was so much that you can feel him still coming even though you are already so full. The warm liquid overflowed and seeped down your ass, pooling on the ground. Your head rests on his shoulder, trembling as you feel him still filling you up with his cum. You feel the sensation of being so full of cum, that you think no one will give you this feeling other than Neuvillette. He makes sure that the time you spend on him is exclusive. Well being rammed with a dragon's cock will certainly be an unforgettable experience for you, let alone being bred with his thick cum for hours. He will take you through the highs to get you addicted to him.

"We shall head home." The word goes to deaf ears. You could hardly register what he said. But you don't have the chance to say anything when he fixes both of your clothes and adjusts you around his body, before walking to the main road. You were too fuck out to even sound a protest as he(still in that scandalous position) walks on the main road like everything is normal. And no. The chief of justice does not just walk around in public with a stranger(supposedly his spouse) clinging onto him. You hide your face on the crook of his neck. Flushed as embarrassment, take your whole system from head to toe. You could feel the fountain people's gazes burning holes in your bodies. You just hope no one recognizes you(I am sorry the melusines did almost instantly. They are keeping notes). Depending on how light their mouth is, your name might or might not appear along with the new hot topic in Steambird Newspaper.

"The Chief of Justice caught in public with his new spouse! Who is this mystery girl?"

The possibility of headlines running wild in your head. You were too busy with your thoughts that you missed his contemplating expression, thinking about how long he can keep you in his house, and how he can prolong it. Of course you should stay with him, you are his mate now. You should take responsibility for your actions. Oh dear. Don't even think about running away.

#genshin impact smut #genshin impact x female reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader smut #genshin x female reader #genshin #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette smut #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #genshin impact neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette x you #neuvilette smut #genshin neuvilette #neuvilette x y/n

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kitten4sannie · 8 months

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Hiya! So I feel like I don’t hear enough about incubus Seonghwa

(I’m so sorry I’m really bad at this. Congratulations though!!! I absolutely love your writings and my jaw dropped when I saw you followed me lol! ❤️❤️❤️)

⛧ seance smutfest ⛧

hi there sweetheart <33 nooo don’t apologize love it’s okay!! thank youu >< and pleasee how could i not? you’re the cutest spooky! and incubus seonghwa ….. (biting my entire fist off rn) you’re right tho omg there needs to be more demon hwa content,, so i must do my part at once!! i hope you enjoy~

incubus seonghwa has two things he adores most in the world (besides you ofc): depravity and pleasure. there’s nothing more that he loves than to combine the two <3

when he comes to visit you, he makes sure that he leaves you so fucked out that you can’t quite remember if him being there, with his lips and teeth on your neck, and his thick, pulsing cock pounding relentlessly into your stretched cunt was just a dream or not. however, you’ll know you didn’t just simply imagine it.

incubus seonghwa loves to leave his mark behind so his favorite plaything can remember him. whether it’s teeth indents and bruises on your neck, collarbone, thighs, or tits when he sucks and bites on them to his black heart’s content, or when he fucks load after load into you so far inside that it won’t stop dripping out even days after he’s had his fun with you <3

it’s not uncommon for demons to get possessive with their toys either. when incubus seonghwa has you bent over your bed with his overheated body pressed heavily into yours, balls-deep in your dripping cunt, with his arms held firmly around your waist and using your body like a fleshlight, he’ll make sure to press his lips against your ear and repeatedly growl out with each thrust, “mine, mine, mine. this is my cunt. all mine, but you know that, don’t you, sweetheart?”

incubus seonghwa is always so ravenous and filthy when it comes to defiling you, so he knows you wouldn’t dare to forget him. how could you? how could you possibly forget the way he has you folded up like a rag doll in any position that gives him the power to control you and make you take his cock in every one of your holes for hours. the way he fucks you raw until you’re lost in a lust-driven haze and spouting nonsense and then forces your trembling thighs open, only to slurp his cum out of you and spit it out into your drooling mouth. how he rubs the milky liquid around your tongue with his thumb and whispers, “be a good pet and swallow for me.”

you can’t forget incubus seonghwa. you know it and he knows it — and he’ll come give you a visit again to make sure that he’ll always be on your mind, forever and always <3

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

#ask #⛧ seance smutfest ⛧#ateez #ateez smut #seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #kpop smut

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wanderingtycho · 1 year

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By far one of my favorite things about the way Disco Elysium handles politics is that Libertarianism is treated as an absolute joke. Like the game is obviously sympathetic towards communists, but there are elements of sympathy towards the moralists and fascists as well. Not sympathy in the sense of “oh can’t we all just get along, we’re all human” BS, but sympathy in the sense that you are able to understand a persons thought process that would lead them to embrace moralism or fascism. Even if that thought process is deeply flawed, and leads to horribly off kilter conclusions, going through the centrist and fash quests gives you meaningful insight into the appeal of those ideologies.

But Ultraliberalism? The game just laughs at you, repeatedly and mercilessly. As it should, you’re a cop so poor a guy you’ve known for one day has to pawn some fancy hubcaps so you can afford rent, yet all you talk about is your grindset. Your hustle, how you’re gonna disrupt the market and groove your way into the lap of luxury. It’s delusion, utter stark raving madness, and characters treat you as such.

Kim is at a loss for words whenever you crank on your libertarian spiel, Evrart calls you a retard, you have to *trick* the mega-rich light bending guy into giving you mercury mining stocks because he’s simply too perplexed by you. Joyce, last of the self identified Ultras, doesn’t take you seriously. Sileng just goes along with it the same way he goes along with any of the other nonsense you can spout, because he’s on his own hustle, and there is no loyalty among charlatans. The only character who is wholeheartedly onboard with the money engineering and the visionary wave making lifestyle is literally named IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL.

But you see, all these things are just incidental, where the game makes it most potent jab at libertarians is when the vision quest stops. Notice I said *stop* not *end*. The communist quest line ends with a Rhetoric check in order to ask The Most Important Question about Communism. The fascist quest has you look yourself in the eye with an Endurance check to see if you can stomach the truth about yourself and your Vöws. The moralist quest ends with a heart wrenching Empathy check as you beg the iron grey and soulless enforcers of the status quo to please god help this district before war breaks out in the streets. There’s real personal stakes for Harry in all these disparate paths he can walk, what does Ultraliberalism get?

You and Kim look at a statue covered in tinsel and disco balls, Kim asks you why you went through with all this, and no matter what response you pick he’s like “Right, yeah, okay. Anyway, let’s finish the case.”

That’s it, no grand moment of pathos, no red Savoir Faire skill check to see if you really are the baddest hustler in the neoliberal hood after all. It’s completely limp, flaccid, lackluster. The game treats all the effort you put into this as exactly what it is: sad, cringe fantasies of a poor old man who’s huffing copium over the embarrassed millionaire mythos.

Disco Elysium doesn’t give libertarianism a poignant, profound conclusion because it’s an ideology undeserving of such treatment. It’s a hyper-capitalist cult mentality of toxic positivity and confirmation bias, a way for desperate people to trick themselves and other chumps into thinking they can bootstrap their way into wealth and prestige. It goes past wishful thinking into pure delirium, the game doesn’t engage with it seriously because it doesn’t have to, the only people who sincerely believe any of its tenants are morons and the clowns who sucker them.

#disco elysium #politics #this one is a tad more mean spirited than the last #I just really hate libertarians they’re so nauseatingly obnoxious #it’s a shame disco came out before NFTs were the latest trend those mooks glommed onto #imagine the kind of jokes we could’ve gotten out of Harry trying to send monkey jpegs over the radiocomputer

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thesunloveschips · 3 months

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Eye of the Storm - Chapter 6: Awaken. Remember. Live.

Summary: Nyra is one of the older Archeron sisters. Twin to Nesta. Plagued by a mysterious illness that her mortal body cannot endure for too long. And yet, it seems her curse is to see her family suffer. When the youngest of her sisters is whisked away into the land of fae, immortality soon follows for the rest of them. And as an immortal, there is more to her that she has yet to know.

Chapter Summary: The mortal queens are bitches. Rhysand requests to speak with Nyra. Azriel befriends the twins. The sisters are Made.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

The meeting with those godforsaken queens made Nesta feel like stomping all over them. She wanted to strangle, stab and slap them at the same time. They were willing to let innocents die in the name of a necessary sacrifice or some horseshit.

Nesta felt too much anger, too much pain, too much grief at what fate awaited the people here. Their servants did not live that far away and could be called back immediately. But she would not call them. If anyone were to be endangered because she had allowed fae to come to their residence and use it as a venue for the meetings?

In total five fae had visited. Feyre, Rhysand, Azriel, Morrigan and... She did not allow herself to think of the last one. Did not allow herself to think of that one moment of proximity she had shared with him.

Nesta had watched Elain curse the queens to hell. Watched Nyra's gaze turn cold and colder as the queens spout their nonsense. Feyre was drained of hope. And what did she feel? She felt everything and nothing. Nesta knew that Elain would likely ignore those queens if she were to meet them again but Nyra? What would Nyra do? The way she had seen the fury rise was something she had seen only once.

She laid a hand on her twin's shoulder. Nyra looked back, unflinchingly. The twins continued to stare at each other before Nyra closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. The shadows surrounding her skirts gently swam upwards and caressed her hand. Nyra looked at them and opened her palm for them.

"Things have escalated beyond the scope of my family's safety. I expect you to keep your word." Nesta turned to Rhysand. The High Lord of Night simply nodded. He had already arranged for their protection from the moment they first visited.

The shadows were caressing Nyra's hands. Azriel's older shadows were now here and they had immediately joined the newborns but Nyra barely responded. She did not move her fingers in response to their playful touches. That upset the shadows. Azriel continued watching them even as he was engrossed in discussion with Rhysand and Cassian regarding their next course of action.

The twins remained quiet for a few seconds before Elain walked over and sat on the carpet right next to Nesta’s legs and laid her head on her lap. The sisters sat there solemnly, lost in their worlds. Their beauty was painful. One of them, ready to mourn the anticipated losses. One of them, forcing herself to accept everything. And one of them, lost in a world far beyond.

Feyre now felt separated. In appearance and name, she was one of them and yet, she was not. She was now fae and she was once human. For the first time since her rebirth, she despised the immortality that separated her from her sisters.

Through a bond partially unknown to the youngest Archeron, Rhysand felt her. He watched his mate and her sisters.

“Feyre.” At the call of her name, she looked and found her sisters watching her curiously. Nesta had been the one to call her.

“Come. Join us.” Nesta invited. Feyre blinked back a tear. Elain wordlessly extended an arm to her. The fourth sister walked over and took her sister’s arm. She sat down on the floor next to Elain, right in front of Nyra’s legs. She placed her head on her older sister’s lap and felt a hand on her head.

“Is anyone even ready for what is going to happen?” Elain asked. Worry was all over her. In her voice, her expressions, her entire body.

“No.” Nesta’s answer was a reminder of reality.

“They’ll hurt you.” Elain reached a hand out and took Feyre’s hand in her own. Tears pooled in their eyes.

“They’ll kill me.” Feyre answered with the same bluntness she had picked up from Nesta.

“Which is what we want to prevent.” Rhys spoke, unable to hold back from speaking. The sisters felt too hopeless but they did not accept anything. They did not accept the possibility of Feyre being hunted for her power, for the destruction that loomed over the mortal lands, the death that awaited Nyra if she couldn't recover and her illness consumed her completely.

Nothing.

“And if it can’t be prevented?” Nyra finally asked. She looked away from the window and met the High Lord’s gaze. “What of my sisters if this war can’t be prevented?” Nesta sharply turned her head to her twin.

“Your sisters will be protected. As will you. No harm shall befall any of you.”

“Can you promise that?” Nyra challenged, remembering what promises meant to fae.

“I promise all my power, all my resources, to protecting the four of you. Even at the cost of my life.” A tattoo bloomed in the palm of Nyra’s right hand. A small star right where the thumb and index finger met. The shadows played with her hand as she inspected the tattoo.

"I am asking if you can promise my sisters' safety." Rhys had no answer to that. And hope died a quick death. It left behind nothing. And everything felt like it had never even been there. Nyra resumed looking outside the window. Winter was cruel.

"Nyra." Feyre looked up at her sister who was still staring at the world outside the window."We're leaving now." Nyra hummed. She kept patting her sister's head but did not meet her gaze. "I'll come visit whenever I can."

Feyre's last statement was reserved for a future with no war. But if there wasn't any possibility of war, would she have ever visited? The answer was easily no. So why would she deign to visit after the war ends. Would there be anything left here for her to visit? Maybe. Maybe not. The book they sought was now in their possession.

Rhysand adjusted his jacket and swallowed. He brushed off some non-existent lint and walked forward. "I would like to speak to you, Nyra."

The sisters looked up from where they sat. Rhysand's tall figure stood a couple of feet away from them but it did not hover over them.

"Alone." He added. Nyra nodded and patted Feyre's head thrice. Her youngest sister removed her head from her lap and stood up.

Nyra led Rhysand to her father's office. Nesta, Azriel and Cassian followed. Nyra and Rhysand entered the office and closed the door behind them. Azriel and Cassian flanked the sides of the closed door, guarding it from interruptions. Nesta leaned on the wall opposite to the door with her eyes closed and arms crossed.

****

"You wish to speak to me?” Nyra asked. She motioned a hand to the armchair before her as an offer for him to sit. But Rhysand kneeled before her. Nyra blinked once and then asked. “What is this about?”

“I understand that there’s a tradition of speaking to the female’s relatives in the mortal lands.” Rhysand sounded uncharacteristically nervous. And he was. This was the sister Feyre spoke with endless love and tenderness. The sister who had guarded his dear mate’s heart.

“Does it really require you to kneel? I’m sure taking a seat won’t be-"

“I ask for your blessings, as Feyre’s older sister, for when I propose marriage.” Rhys’s interruption had silenced Nyra.

“I wish to walk by her side this life. To love her through all of it. Through happiness and misery. Through riches and poverty. With all my power, blood, body, mind and soul that I am, I wish to be hers, if she’ll have me.”

The High Lord of the Night Court now dipped his head. “I plan to propose to her once she has completely settled in this new life as fae and once I am certain she bears affections for me. If she ever loves me and if we ever have a chance at a union, I hope you can bless it wherever you will be then.”

Nyra knew what that meant when he said wherever she would be. Even if she were no longer alive, he wanted her blessing.

“You are a High Lord. You have greater priorities than a marriage with my sister who is still unaware of your feelings.”

None greater than my mate. She heard his voice but he was not speaking. Nyra was now confused. I can speak to you mind to mind. It is a rare ability among my kind. Those who wield it are called daemati.

“What’s a mate?” And Rhysand explained the entire concept of mates to her. He was honest about real life examples of mates including his parents and the miserable union his mother had endured. And how he hoped that Feyre and he could be happy with each other.

“What if she does not fall in love with you? Or what if she has a change of heart even if she does fall in love with you?” Both of them knew very well what had happened between Feyre and Tamlin. A repetition was not acceptable.

“I will let her go. She will have everything to lead her life as she pleases regardless of whether she returns my affections or has a change of heart after being with me.”

“Cassian told me that the fae are bound by their promises.” She looked at the small star in her palm that had appeared mere minutes ago.

“I shall make you as many promises as you require of me.” The stars in his eyes were blinking now.

“To love her. To cherish her. To help her when she needs it. And to let go if she wants it. To never hurt her. Promise it, Rhysand. All of it.” She walked forward and stopped right in front of him.

“I promise.” He took her hand and looked up at her face. Even with his teary gaze, he could see the silent tears trailing down Nyra’s eyes. “I will love Feyre Archeron with all that I am, body, mind, power and soul. I will help her when she needs it. I will let her go peacefully without a fight if she chooses to leave me. I will not hurt her in any manner even if she does accept me and then has a change of heart. If by any chance, she does accept me and chooses to be with me, I will care for her. I promise that she will never want for anything so long as I can do anything about it. I will protect her and value her life above my own at all times. I will never consider her inferior to me, only my equal and above. She will not be sidelined as a wife or a consort. She will rule beside me as my equal in the Night Court. This is my promise to you, Nyra Archeron.”

And with that, a tattoo bloomed in the palms of their respective hands which were connected. Nyra felt a tingling sensation and turned her hand to see it. She turned his own hand and saw the identical tattoos bloom. It was a crescent moon and a single star formed in the space where the remaining part of the moon should have been to be a full one. She looked at his face with a questioning glance.

“Promises among the fae are evidenced by tattoos.” Rhys’s words still held a glimmer of hope that reflected in the stars in his eyes. “I promise to accept whatever punishment you deem fit for me should I break any of my promises to you.” Another tattoo for another promise but this time, the new tattoo was like a continuation of the old one. The borders of the crescent moon were now lined with small flowers and smaller leaves.

In Nyra’s absence, the tattoo would burn him like all tattoos did when bargains were broken. During her lifetime, she would choose his punishment.

“You have my blessing so as long as you keep your word.” Nyra nodded at him. He turned their hands, now hiding their palms. Rhys kissed the back of Nyra’s hand with tears flowing down his cheeks freely.

“Thank you.” He whispered. He repeated it so many times, completely consumed by Nyra’s acceptance of a union with Feyre, if it ever happened. Nyra stood up, placed her hands on his shoulders. She gently led him to stand up and take a seat next to her in the armchair which she had initially offered for a seat.

From outside the room, Azriel and Cassian flanked the doors like guards. They heard every single word and tears formed in their eyes. They shared a single glance and looked away. Cassian lifted a hand to press his thumb and forefinger to his eyes. He lifted his chin to avoid the tears from spilling. Azriel simply willed himself to remain stoic. And even then the shadows did not stop telling him about Nyra's tears.

Nesta, who had been standing in front of the door, had heard everything. She gave no reaction and simply turned and walked away. She did not mind that Rhysand had asked Nyra about this and not her. She was not worthy anyway. As someone who did nothing but let her anger consumer her, she was unworthy. She was nothing.

****

“She's never going to return.” Elain remarked as they stared at the spot from where the fae had disappeared.

“She won’t. Fae are not welcome in the mortal lands.” Nesta answered quietly.

She thought of Rhysand who was in love with Feyre. If Feyre did ever accept Rhysand as a lover, she would definitely not return. He was someone who wielded power and influence. He was polite to them only because they were related to the woman he loved. His only obligation other than the relation was the threat the war posed to the lands he ruled.

For his people, Rhysand would fight, beg, and bow. He would kill and be killed, do and endure worse. Nesta felt like Rhys might have already gone through all of that if he had been High Lord for over five centuries.

Nesta looked at Nyra who looked at the sky from the closed window. Elain had returned to her room and had informed them that she would join them for preparing lunch at noon. That would be three hours. Nesta resolved to read another novel to distract herself. Her mind was a whirlpool but her thoughts could not swim. Everything was happening, all at once. She did not want to drown in the water. Amidst her desire, she had become the fire that burned cold.

Her twin had yet to recover completely. Nyra had a life to live. Like Elain, she had to live, laugh, and love. Elain had found someone to love, the evidence of it resting on the ring finger of her left hand. Nyra too deserved a life. Nesta did not. She did not deserve to be loved.

Love was a luxury Nesta did not deserve but her sisters loved her. Her twin, the younger one she protected and the youngest whom she tried to hate with all of her being. And she felt a spark of it just recently. Nesta walked away and ascended the stairs, hoping the movement would remove old thoughts and replace it with new ones.

When Nesta reached Elain’s room, she could hear the sobs before she knocked. Her hand halted and she hesitated more as the sobs continued. She retreated as quietly as possible and headed to her bedroom.

The doors opened and her grand bedroom revealed itself. It was a splash of burgundy curtains, brick red sheets with ochre pillows and cushions. She preferred gold over the silver that Nyra preferred. Red, however, sang to her. And she tossed a few logs into the fireplace and lit it. The glow of the flames brought out the spirit of the room and its occupant.

She turned at the sound of a single knock on the door which was Nyra’s preferred pattern of knocking. “Come in!” Her twin entered the room, the golden glow of the flames colouring her as she approached Nesta by the fireplace.

And the sisters did not speak, but revelled in the silence for hours to Elain came by and reminded them of lunch.

****

The days passed by. Previously, the monotony that was only interrupted when either Cassian or Azriel visited. Cassian had stopped visiting after his banter with Nesta had once escalated to the point where she had banished him from setting foot into the estate unless it was to meet the queens. But now, the meetings with the queens had come to pass. Their fae guests had gotten their hands on whatever they sought. There was no more communication from them.

A gentle tap on her window late in the night has Nyra looking outside. Nesta walked over and opened the window. For a moment, she was convinced it was just the wind but she looked back instantly to find Azriel materialising from the shadows next to Nyra’s bed. Nesta closed the window and walked over. The two of them sat down on the chairs near the bed.

“No news from the queens.” Nesta began. It was a disappointing update. Azriel nodded at her once.

“How are things otherwise?” He asked kindly. He was probably referring to her health but Nyra did not ignore the possibility of him asking it in a general sense.

“Things are as dull as they can be.” Nyra replied, the dullness she mentioned lacing her voice.

“I hear the two of you have reading habits.” He lifted a palm and the shadows brought a neatly wrapped package. Azriel gently set it on the bedside table. He wasn’t sure why he bought them but he didn’t like the idea of revisiting for the first time alone just like that. “They are novels from our world.”

Nesta couldn’t accept the world of the fae but Azriel was the most polite and well mannered of the bunch. She nodded with a hum. Nyra took the package eagerly and began unwrapping it. When she couldn’t get it right after a point of time, she frowned and ripped the package. Azriel chuckled at the enthusiasm. The three books lay on the blankets above her lap. Hardcover with a carefully intricate design drawn over it. Nyra beamed at him with a smile and his gaze softened.

Nesta saw the exchange and knew that they might talk about those novels at some point once the sisters had read them. And it would have been fine. Anything would be accepted as a topic of conversation except the hopeless news from the queens. Conversation with Azriel had been surprisingly easier. Conversation with Cassian was either a headache or a challenge or both.

Nesta knew that she missed Cassian. Because she was actually starting to look forward to their banters. Despite her declaration of banishment, Cassian would visit whenever he claimed Azriel was busy. She knew he liked their interactions. She also knew that Nyra was starting to like the fae. That her dear twin had started enjoying Azriel and Cassian’s company. Nesta had watched as Cassian and Nyra joke around each other. And Azriel and Nyra had discussed books and histories of their kind and a friendship had bloomed between them.

“The Treaty between the fae and the humans was a headache.” Azriel sighed. Nyra raised a curious eyebrow. “Rhys was healing, so he wasn’t there. Cassian and Mor attended on our behalf and I was travelling around the Night Court.”

“And this was around the time Rhys became High Lord?” Azriel nodded his head at Nyra’s question.

“We barely have any records here in our side of the world.” There it was. The stark reminder that they were from different worlds and that even this odd story of friendship would be a difficult thing to maintain. Maybe, someday in the future, Azriel would forget them. Feyre would forget ever having sisters white they would remember her their entire lives.

“Any information about anything that old is either word of mouth or anything passed down by families. Official records exist in the archives of the mortal queens but that remains unavailable to the common folk.”

Nyra watched him with lips slightly parted. Nesta knew at once something ridiculous was cooking inside her head. As smart as Nyra was, she could say the most outrageous things at times.

"I will never be able to digest the fact that you are so old." Nyra spoke. Azriel let out a snort and a small laugh. "Even our ancestors with the Archeron name would not have been born five centuries ago and you were there. During the war, after it, and now. It's just..."

"Even the thought of it is inconceivable." Nesta spoke where Nyra trailed away. Azriel turned to her with a curiousity. "To have lived in what we refer to as the past and to stand before our eyes as though you have not aged."

"We haven't aged since we were thirty. That's when fae are considered to be completely adults." Azriel explained. He did not dwell on the details of how Illyrians aged and how it differed from others.

It had been almost a month since the mortal Archerons saw anyone from the Night Court. And the sisters were not ashamed to admit that they missed their company. Not only had they lost their sister to immortality but also new friends. Nesta would never consider the fae her friends but Nyra would. She had befriended Azriel and Cassian and even Rhysand to an extent. Even Elain had been a part of their conversations with Morrigan bringing tea for them. But with the war to prepare for, nobody visited. And they remained confined to their estate.

****

A sweet voice kept calling out to her. By her name. Over and over again. In the depths of what seemed like the abyss, the bright silhouette of a female called out to her.

“Nyra.” She had never heard a more melodious voice. Soothing and calm. Something so different from what she had experienced so far. Drastically so.

“Awaken.” The voice whispered. “Remember.” It felt like somebody was holding their hand. That hand was soft, their grip gentle. Slowly, Nyra felt herself be tugged forward. She did not know whether she was standing or floating or flying but she somehow followed that tug. "Live."

An entire life flashed before her eyes. Birth. Childhood. Adolescence. Adulthood. Age. And finally, death. Parents, siblings, friends, love. It felt like a story unwrap itself before her eyes. She soaked in every detail before she realised what exactly was happening. A life was showing itself.

And she would remember. Stories long forgotten and unrecorded because it belonged to someone who did not win. To someone who had not made their mark in history. The resolve to make that mark. A footprint to be recorded in history books. To become a winner because winners write history. Winners are remembered.

The next life came forth. The next book opened. Chapter one, two, three, four and till the end of the book.

Some lives felt like watching a mural. Some felt like novels. Some felt like dreams. Some felt like something else. And she wanted to see. After being confined in the house for so long, Nyra Archeron wanted to live. And so she opened everything.

“Slowly, my child.” The voice whispered. “Everything is yours.”

Nesta Archeron had drowned in the Cauldron promising death to the King. The King watched warily as she walked towards her Cauldron Made sister. She pushed Lucien away and took Elain in her arms and looked around. And then at the King and roared. “Where’s she?” Her eyes blazed with the promise of death. Everything would end at her hands.

Nyra Archeron had yet to rise from the Cauldron. The King looked at the Cauldron and signalled two of his soldiers to pull the last sister. The twins were pushed in together after Elain. The trembling fawn and the fanged beast had risen. And now, the chirping of a thousand birds sounded across the room. The two soldiers who were supposed to pull Nyra out screamed in pain and fell to the ground as though they were puppets and their strings had been cut.

Azriel looked up, his blurry vision allowing him to see only silhouettes and the bright light of the electricity that had resulted in someone screaming. His younger shadows kept screaming at him to go. To drag himself to the Cauldron even if it was his corpse. He followed that call. He felt calm which was odd. Cassian’s wings were shredded. Tamlin turned out to be a traitor and Lucien was the middle sister's mate. Nesta was angry. Rhysand and Feyre risked losing each other. Mor had been frozen by her fear. And Az continued to crawl to the Cauldron. His older shadows had abandoned him already, moving to the Cauldron faster than he could.

All the light from across the world flowed into the Cauldron in strands and cords. Light of different colours. All the white and the gold and the red and the blue and the green and so many colours flowed in. And his shadows followed a song clearer than Azriel’s had ever been. He was too weak to rein them in and the shadows emerged with the new fae from the Cauldron. A wave of calm and peace washed over. So different from Nesta’s deathly presence. The shadows helped Nyra exit the Cauldron.

Just as she exited the Cauldron, it rose mid-air. The Cauldron tipped and the liquid from it fell on Nyra, bathing her in whatever essence it deigned to grant her. A while later, it stopped and settled back where it initially was. Nyra's eyes were closed and the shadows were carrying her out and they laid her next to the shadowsinger.

Azriel had never felt so at peace right then. With his shadows and with this female lying next to him. And soon, there was a faint tune. It became clearer and louder. An ancient song thrummed within him and the shadows led him to her. There was nothing more important, nothing more beautiful, nothing more stronger than this moment. Even with that hole in his chest from Jurian’s spear, he felt his heart fill to the brim with relief.

Azriel fell asleep, feeling peaceful at the sight of her. Nyra was drenched and unconscious but he was already fainting. He did not realise it when his hand had taken hers. And if he were to die then and there, he would die peacefully. Did not feel when Mor winnowed him back to Velaris and had started healing him. All he felt was his mate and their bond. He was home.

****

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freyyzu · 2 years

Text

I LOVE YOU’S

In which there are a thousand ways to tell you “I love you,” but saying it is still my favorite.

a/n; because i love them. and also because every time they say “i love you,” in-game i start kicking and screaming from embarrassment. not proof-read or edited because it’s too long and i wanted to be done already aksjd

LUCIFER —

Lucifer has always been openly honest with how he feels for you.

Words of appreciation aren’t considered strangers in your relationship, and there’s not a day that passes by where they’re not exchanged.

Simple ‘thank you’s when you hand one another an extra pen or paper.

Brief kisses and ‘good morning’s when you pass each other in the hallways of the House of Lamentation.

Gentle reminders to ‘sleep well,’ when you know there’s a long day ahead tomorrow.

He’s always been a person reserved in showing you physical affection in public, but you know more than anyone that he cares more deeply than he’ll allow anyone to see.

Lucifer was used to working for long hours, oftentimes going the whole day without leaving his room — today just so happened to be one of those days.

It’s late evening when he finishes going through all the papers that have piled on his desk. A full 24 hours without running into any of his brothers or even taking a break to eat.

It’s strange, he thinks. Typically when he works he could still hear the ruckus outside. Whether that be Levi chasing down Mammon for not paying him back for something or Satan yelling at Beel to stop clearing out the kitchen before any of them have time to cook a proper meal.

With curious steps, he makes his way downstairs, hoping to see what his brothers are up to and sneak in a late night snack whilst he was at it. To his surprise, the only thing he finds is an empty, quiet house, and you standing in the kitchen preparing a tray of food.

“Ah, Lucifer!” The way your expression lights up upon seeing him makes it feel as if all the stress from the past few hours have melted away. “Are you done with your work? I was just about to bring you something to eat since you missed out on your meals.”

Lucifer doesn’t find the need to respond, or perhaps he’s simply too tired to, all he does is walk over to your side and wraps his arms around your waist. Immediately, he feels your hand come up to rest on his head, gently rustling his hair.

“You did good today.”

“Mmhm.” He eases into your touch, “I love you.”

Your laughter tickles his hands, “I love you as well. Now c’mon, you gotta eat. I’m sure you must be starving.”

MAMMON —

There’s never a day in which Mammon wouldn’t deny being in love with you.

He’s lucky that you find it endearing above all else, otherwise he would’ve suffered a few bruises already.

Because he finds it difficult to tell you how much he loves you, he decides it’s probably best to show you, instead.

He holds your hand on the walk to RAD, making sure to tell you that it’s simply ‘for your protection,’ even though you both know you’re more than capable of handling yourself now.

That cake you had offhandedly mentioned wanting to try shows up in front of your door the next day along with a very embarrassed demon holding on to it, claiming how he ‘just so happened to get lucky,’ even though the lines for the bakery are known to span for three hours long.

Mammon can’t seem to focus.

Perhaps it was the boring lesson plans that he had to get through, or maybe it was Lucifer’s threat of once again stringing him from the ceiling if he failed another test looming over his head, but the demon’s thoughts were only fixated on you. You, who’s currently sitting right beside him, pointing at blurry words on a page and spouting nonsense about some history notes he’s going to forget three seconds later.

“And so… Mammon?” You look up at him curiously. “If you’re tired we can—”

“I love you.”

The words leave his lips before he could even process he was saying it, or even why he was saying it. There’s nothing romantic about your situation right now. There are papers scattered all across your coffee table, eraser shavings lost within your carpet, and three books open, none of which he has paid attention to. If anything, this was the absolute worst moment he could’ve picked to say that phrase.

You blink.

And then he blinks.

You turn red.

And then he turns red.

“Ah…”

“AHHHHH,” he covers his face, flailing his hand wildly. “Ignore that! I didn’t say anything!”

He’s ready to get up and run out of the room, failing the test and being strung up again be damned, if not for you grabbing his arm and preventing him from moving anywhere.

“Say it again,” you insist, leaning in closer and giving him your best puppy-dog eyes, ones that you know he can’t resist saying ‘no,’ to. He caves, as you were sure he would, “I… I love you. I love ya’ lots, okay?!”

If smiles could reach past the eyes, he was sure yours would. “I love ya’ lots, too, Mammon.”

LEVI —

Levi would rather hide in his room for a hundred years than ever say that he loves you.

Of course, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to, but every time he tries he chickens out.

Thankfully, you have the patience of a saint, and he couldn’t be more grateful that you haven’t tried to pry those three words out of him (yet).

Still, Levi does what he can to show you he cares in his own way. Whether that be buying games of your favorite genre, or binging your favorite series just so he has more things to talk with you about, anything else will do.

Though it makes him feel extra bad whenever you say it so easily and he’s left to be a stuttering mess.

Levi sucks in a deep breath.

He hardens his nerves, counts to three, and then tries his best to vocalize how he feels. “I…” He pauses, eye twitching from nervousness. “I- I- I CAN’T DO IT!”

A loud groan escapes his lips as he crouches onto the floor of his bedroom, covering his face with his hands from embarrassment. He’s been at this for days now, looking at Henry through the tank and trying with every nerve in his body to just get those three words up and out of his throat to no avail.

Every time he thinks he’s going to get it your face pops up and instantly all his confidence disappears into thin air.

Levi sucks in another deep breath.

One more time, just one more time, he’ll get it this time.

If there was ever a time for the phrase “fake it ‘til you make it,” to be used, this would be the time. With newfound confidence, he pushes himself up to his feet again and stares directly at Henry, who looks back curiously.

“I-” he scrunches up his face and forces the words lodged in his throat out in a tiny squeak. “I love you.” It’s so quiet, and he barely manages to get your name out afterward, but he did it!

He did it!!

He—!

“I love you too, Levi!”

“AKJSDHJKSFGFGKJ????!?!”

“Wow, I didn’t know you could vocalize a keysmash like that.” You’re laughing, he’s on the floor, face completely red and regretting all his life choices, and you’re laughing. “Sorry for entering without your permission, but I tried knocking a few times and no one answered.”

The best thing you could do for him right now is to stay away, get out of his room even, while he waits for the floor to consume him whole, but instead, you walk towards him, stopping just inches away from his face.

“I couldn’t hear you very well the first time. Could you say it again?”

SATAN —

If simply being in one another’s company and enjoying each other’s presence is considered a way of saying ‘I love you,’ then no one does it better than Satan.

He doesn’t really find the need to say the words very much, but when he does, it’s filled with so much softness and care.

He’ll also say it the most when it’s just the two of you, away from prying eyes.

It’s something special, only for your ears, something only you get to hear.

The best moments in life are the ones where you get to spend them with your loved ones, and for Satan, it was no different; a book in his hand, you in his arms, a blanket thrown loosely to cover your legs as your head rests on his shoulder.

It's been two hours now, two hours of uninterrupted reading time — no brothers barging in his room looking for you, no text messages blowing up his notifications, no uninvited guests knocking on the doors of the House of Lamentation — there wasn’t much else he could ask for right now.

“‘And so, the man looks at the person standing in front of him, the person he’s respected and cared for the most in the world, and holds out a hand. Whatever it is that you need, whether it be riches, luck, or power, I’ll be there to deliver it right into your hands.’”

You shift in his arms, and he pauses his reading for only a moment to make sure you’re comfortable before continuing.

“‘And what if I said that the only thing I desire right now was neither riches, nor luck, nor power, but happiness — happiness with you? What would you deliver unto me, then?’”

“‘I would tell you then that I love you. That I would deliver to you: me. Mind, body, and soul.’”

Satan chuckles, “you stole my line.”

You smile, blinking up at him innocently. “Then just say it again.”

His eyes scan over the words once more, “I would tell you then,” he places the book down and cups your cheeks, pressing your foreheads together, his steady gaze holding onto yours. “That I love you. That I would deliver to you: me. Mind, body, and soul.”

ASMO —

No one tells you that they love you more than Asmo does. To him, saying he loves you is just another ring thrown into an endless pool of compliments.

‘You look so cute today!’ He’ll tell you the moment he spots you with a new outfit on. ‘Are you using a new lipstick?’ He notices every small change that you make to your appearance.

It makes you undeniably happy, of course, but it also makes it hard to differentiate from when he’s just being from when he’s being genuine.

Though if you ask him about it, he’ll be more offended than you could ever imagine. Everything he says to you is genuine, how could you ever think otherwise?

There’s been something strained about your relationship with Asmo lately, and unfortunately for him, he can’t seem to figure out what it is.

His compliments don’t have much of an effect anymore. The cute blush you seem to always adorn when he tells you how cute you look doesn’t appear, and every time he gives you a kiss he sees for a fraction of a section that a frown adorns your lips.

“Now, will you please tell me what it is that I’m doing that’s making you sad? I can’t bare to see you frowning anymore.”

Today, he plans to get to the bottom of it — and the first step was to corner you.

You’re laying on his bed with him on top of you, arms caging you in to prevent you from running off. Still, the both of you know full well that if you really had any intention on escaping then you could easily use your pact.

“I just…” You break away from his gaze, embarrassed, mumbling something incoherent under your breath.

“One more time?”

You turn even redder, “I don’t know… what it is you really like about me.”

Asmo blinks.

What do you mean you don’t know what he likes about you? Does he not tell you every day in full detail? So much so that his brothers would actively complain about how annoying and overbearing he is? He sits up, and pulls you forward to face him.

“I love your eyes,” he begins, “I love how they light up every time you get excited about something. I love your personality, how kind you are to everyone, even if they won’t show that same kindness back. I love your determination, how you never give up even when things don’t go your way.” He reaches out to cup both of your cheeks. They’re warm. “I love how rosy your cheeks get whenever I compliment you.”

“I-” you stutter, and his grin widens. “I think I get it now, please stop!”

“Stop?” He muses, “but what about my compliments? I think I deserve that much after you’ve been avoiding me for a week now!”

You glare at him, no doubt just wanting to end this conversation already. “I love you.”

Oh, that’s just unfair. You can’t just pull the ‘I love you,’ card out on him like that and get away scot free — but you do, and he lets you. “I love you, too, cutie!” The both of you once again crash onto the bed, his arms wrapped tightly around your neck. “Don’t you ever forget that!”

BEEL —

If you looked up the definition of ‘gentle giant,’ in the dictionary, Beel’s face would appear.

Despite his larger stature, there’s no one more willing to lend you a helping hand, whether you really need it or not. He just wants to make your life a little bit easier.

To Beel, ‘I love you’s don’t need to have any special meaning behind them. He simply says it because he wants to, whether you’re doing mundane things, or going through something eventful.

He just wants to remind you from time-to-time, and you enjoy doing the same.

“You aren’t mad at me?”

“Hm?” Beel hums, glancing at you, resting on his back. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I made you leave fangol practice early?”

His thumb absentmindedly brushes over your thighs, shifting you into a slightly more secure position (not like he would let you fall either way). “It wasn’t your fault.” If anything it was his.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He was the one who had gotten distracted in the middle of their practice match and turned right as he threw the ball and ended up almost hitting you in the face. Thankfully you had stepped out of the way in time, but ended up tripping over the bench and sprained your ankle, leading Beel to call off early to take care of you and help you back home.

You had insisted that you were okay and that just a bit of ice and bandages would be enough, but he insisted. With his genuine concern in wanting to help, and the notion that he might’ve been the one caused you to get hurt, there was no way you could have denied him.

And so, here you were, arms wrapped around his neck as he carries you back to the House of Lamentation, piggyback style.

There’s a rumble on his back, and he hears your quiet giggles. “Thank you for always taking such good care of me, I love you, Beel.” Your thanks are followed by a quick beck to the back of his head, and he wishes he could just move you into a different position right now and return the favor.

Unfortunately, he can’t without risking further injury to your leg, and so he settles for pressing a kiss to the side of your arm. “Of course I do, I love you after all.”

BELPHIE —

Will tease the living daylights out of you to show his affection.

If you want him to say ‘I love you,’ you’re gonna have to jump through three rings of fire and let him use you has a pillow for minimum three days first.

Even then, he’ll only say it if he’s in the mood, and probably after you’ve already fallen asleep so you can’t hear it.

“What do you mean? I already told you yesterday,” he’s having way too much fun with this. “When? While you were asleep, of course.”

“You’re terrible.”

He chuckles at your comment, simply basking in the way your hands brush through his hair.

So what if its been two weeks of him teasing you just for you to finally hear him say that he loves you? It was fun (to him) and that’s all that matters. Besides, it wasn’t as if he’s never said it before, he just wanted to make it a little game this time around.

“You say that, but here you are.”

“Well,” you brush a strand of hair away from his nose. “Even if you are an ass this feels nice for me as well so it’s okay.”

“So it’s alright for me to never say it again?” He teases, knowing it’ll just push your buttons further.

“Don’t push your luck.”

It’s the dead of the night when you finally fall asleep and somehow, Belphie was still awake. He pokes your cheek, stifling his laughter when you shift uncomfortably and mumble something akin to ‘that tickles’ before proceeding to bury yourself further into his chest.

He likes this, he thinks. It’s fun to tease you, and it’s even more fun knowing that you’re just playing along with him when you could full-well just use your pact to make him say it already. Though, he’s sure that if he mentions that you’ll retaliate saying it’s more genuine to hear him say it without using the pact.

“I love you.” He places a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

You don’t need to know he’s been saying it every night.

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 5 months

Text

We'll give it a shot

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 30/31

Prompt: New year's resolutions

Rated: G

CW: aftermath of injury; aftermath of trauma

Tags: Established relationship; recovery; fluff

Notes: Continued from days 3 and 18 - @house-of-the-moving-image and I just wanted them to be happy after all we put them through. 😭❤️

Steve has always been all movement, all fluid grace, for as long as Eddie remembers. On the pitch, in the pool. Shielding others with his own body, his strength. He was proud of this. It was the one thing he knew he was good at.

And then Vecna nearly twisted his limbs from his body. Broke his arm in three different places, his leg in five.

“They say I'll need to be patient,” Steve tells Eddie a few months after everything, hands tangled over the middle console of the van. It's late December and they're on their way back from physical therapy. “Could be months before I walk without crutches. Years maybe before I'm back to the way I was before… or close.”

Eddie clenches his free hand around the steering wheel, like Steve clung to that stupid handrail earlier. White-knuckled and pale-faced, jaw locked tight as he struggled to take a few shaky steps. Not for the first time, he wishes that he'd been faster, pulled him out sooner-

“Eds.”

He snaps back to the present as if pulled by a bungee rope. Steve’s eyes are warm and soft.

“Stop it,” he says, gentle and firm and so very strong, so very Steve. Eddie needs to swallow against the sudden thickness clogging his throat. “You've nothing to hold against yourself. You saved me.”

“You saved yourself,” Eddie huffs, eyes stubbornly trained on the snowy road. “I helped, is all. You can do this, too. You'll be walking in no time, you just wait.”

“Dunno,” Steve mutters. He sounds so small, so broken, so very much not like himself, and Eddie wishes he could resurrect Vecna, simply to kill him again. Make it more painful this time, let him suffer like he made them suffer. “You saw me just now. Feels like I need to fight forever for every little inch of success.”

“Let's make a deal?”

The words are out before Eddie can think better of it, but the sadness on Steve’s face has given way to curiosity, so he shoulders on.

“We could make it a new year's resolution. If you manage to walk by … July, let's say, I'll quit smoking.”

“Oh, please!” Steve's eyebrow quirks. “As if you could.”

“Of course I could. I'm tired of you whining about my cigarette breath anyhow. What's wrong, big boy? Scared of getting your ass handed to you?”

“Fuck off,” Steve grouses, but his mouth is curling into a smile and his eyes are sparkling. “It's on, dude!”

“Hell, yeah!” Eddie makes no attempt at hiding his smug grin. Count on Steve’s competitive streak to win him over. “It's so on!”

“Oh God,” Steve squawks the second his hands lose contact with the crutches. “It's off. Eds, it's off, give’m here.”

“Nuh-uh!” Eddie dances a step back - not far, still close enough to catch Steve in case he falls, but far enough to keep the crutches out of reach. “Just give it a shot, c’mon. You got this.”

Over the distance between them, their eyes meet.

“I've gotcha.”

Steve's eyes light up and a small laugh bubbles from his throat.

And then he walks.

Eddie makes sure to stay a bit ahead, spouting a never-ending string of encouragement and jokes and sweet nonsense. Just keeps talking so that Steve can focus on something other than the fear and the doubt. Guides him with his voice like he's done before, like he'll keep doing for as long as Steve needs, as long as he wants.

The first steps are unsure and wobbly, but soon enough, Steve finds his footing. They've both kicked off their shoes, and the dry summer grass is brittle under their naked feet, the earth soft and warm. The sound of their footfalls mingles with the whirr of the cicadas in the grass, the rush of his own blood in his ears, their mingled laughter, a gorgeous, wonderful symphony of alive, alive, alive.

When Steve’s legs give out and he stumbles, Eddie is there. He cushions their fall with his own body and they go down in a tangle of limbs and laughter, lips meeting before they even hit the ground. The crutches go clattering somewhere to the side.

“I did it!” Steve gasps against his mouth, and Eddie can't tell if the sound is more laugh or more sob. “Shit, did you- did you see that? I did it!”

“You did it,” Eddie rumbles, hands in Steve's hair, kissing his lips and nose and eyes and anything he can reach between words. Both their cheeks are wet with tears, but they're good tears, finally good tears, and he can’t tell whose they are anymore. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that they’re alive, and here, and together. “Fuck yeah, you did, always knew you would. So strong, so amazing. Love you so much.”

Steve makes another sound, a raw thing so full of emotion it makes Eddie’s heart flutter, and crashes their lips together again, firmer, longer. Eddie sighs as a hesitant tongue coaxes at his lips, opens up, lets him in.

And then Steve groans and pulls back.

“What?” Eddie asks, insides twisting with worry. “Shit, did you hurt yourself? What-”

“‘m fine!” Steve wheezes, glancing up at him with watery eyes. “You just taste like an ashtray, is all.”

“Oh, c'mon!” Eddie grouses while Steve rolls off him, flops onto his back in the grass. “I had like half a cig this morning.”

“Half a cig too much, then,” Steve beams up at him, all glinting teeth and gold-streaked hair in the sunlight, eyes sparkling with mirth and alive, alive, alive. “I win.”

Eddie pouts. “What though? Can't remember agreeing on a prize, this was all fun and-”

One strong, nimble hand tangles in the collar of his shirt, pulls him in.

“Shut up and kiss me, ash breath.”

Eddie has never obeyed an order more gladly in his life.

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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whalesforhands · 8 months

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digest your feelings pt.11 (finale) (satosugu x reader)

previous masterlist END

warnings: none, just fluff. and a sign off from a whale at the end

“Why… Do you even like me?” The night breeze gently brushes your face, your eyes staring up at the night sky above you.

A sight you haven’t seen in so long. Despite being out of the prison of your mind, you still shackle yourself to it.

“Like I said,” The botamochi that had initially been pressed against your lips leaves. “Liking you doesn’t need a reason.” Satoru is frowning as he leans down closer to you, arms folding over your torso as he wraps himself around you from behind, your front pressed against the railing of the balcony.

“You sure you don’t want a piece? The kids are gonna finish it off before you can even blink.”

(And you need to eat more.)

A strangely serene night despite everything that had happened today. The kids asleep within their parents’ master bedroom, yourself sneaking off soon after you ensured all of them were meant to be fast asleep, passed out.

(You didn’t account for how the men would be monitoring your every move. That’s how you’re here— Satoru right by your side as Suguru prepares some tea inside.)

Your newly acquired scar doesn’t burn, doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t feel like much. Not compared to what you feel inside.

You ignore his question, resolve growing inside you as you grit your teeth and spit out your vile thoughts.

“I— I have no idea what to do in this life.” You’re unsure, unable to make decisions. You don’t deserve to be standing here with them. You think your revival was a mistake.

He keeps quiet, but his arms are tightening up, his body pressing itself closer to you as you feel his chin rest upon your head. He’s listening.

The railing never looked more interesting compared to the cloudless night sky.

“I don’t have any direction other than being a jujutsu sorcerer. I know I have to save— Others. Because I can. Because I’m one of the ones capable of doing that—“

But you can’t even do that well.

You’re so lost. You don’t know where to go, what to do. Who are you, even? Is that all you are? A jujutsu sorcerer.

Exactly what are you getting at, spouting all this nonsense? What is compelling you to speak so freely, so nonsensically?

“What if you find me… boring? What if after—“ You pause to suck in a breath as your voice dies into a whisper, realization dripping into your tone as you listen to yourself. “What if after a while you get tired of me and want to get rid of me…? I-I’m not—“ Suguru. Not Satoru. You’re neither of them. Neither of these perfect pieces of a whole.

He opens his mouth to reply, but you shut him out, cut him off.

“What if you don’t like who I really am?”

Ahh— Rattling off about your insecurities, those creeping little thoughts about yourself in efforts to make yourself less attractive. Less appealing to him. What were you aiming for? Satoru kicking you out and asking you to leave? Him saying he never really liked you? Him admitting that he’s only doing this out of pity? Maybe you really were better off dead.

You hear a huff of exasperation from above you, feel his body dropping even more of his weight onto you as you blank out silently, letting him simply hold you.

Maybe this will be the last time. Maybe he finally realizes you aren’t what he imagined you to be. You were gone for— How long? Nevertheless, it should be long enough for them to conjure an image of ‘you’.

Meeting expectations were never your strongpoint.

There’s a hum from him, his fingers tapping against the fabric of the shirt Suguru had gotten out of the closet for you to wear. One of theirs.

“You think too much.”

He’s thankful, really. That you’re starting to talk. To start speaking your mind more. But what exactly can he do to make you realise what he has been learning, knowing for years?

There’s a beat. Before he whirls you around to face him, to face those blue eyes that you’ve been denied of seeing. His forehead is pressed against yours in intimate proximity, soft skin against your own as the shadows of your surroundings highlighted the crystalline jewels meeting yours.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I do, you know? You’re so dumb sometimes.”

…is he insulting you? You can’t tell, not when the shine of his lips catch your attention, the pull, lull of his intrinsic charm that your heart jumps up at.

He’s cute. And he notices your charmed gaze.

(Too soon. He doesn’t want to scare you away again.)

“By the way!” His arm is holding you close just as he wills himself to pull away from you, separating yourselves before he unforgivingly escalates the situation. Your eyes meet with your own reflection staring back at you from… A cellphone lacking the usual buttons you were used to.

“Gonna show Utahime your pretty face!” His cheek is squished against yours as you blink up at the modern item.

…where’s the honourifics? Where is the ‘senpai’ at the end…?

“She’s soooo gonna freak when she finds out you came back to life after 6 years.”

You nearly choke on the air you just breathed in, in time with the sliding of the balcony door, Shoko dressed down in casual clothing and carrying a large bag with her.

“Hi.” It’s almost excited, the undertone of giddy happiness masked by her cool exterior, a hand on her hip as she watches Gojo snap more and more shots of yourself and him. Together. “Suguru let me in. I wanted to see you— Again.”

Her smile is radiant. Her eyebags a little lighter. “I brought you undergarments. And a few necessities. I don’t trust them.” Her face reveals her excitement, her relaxed posture, hee brimming gait. You just don’t understand how long it has been since she could confidently pick up an item and think of you you you.

(You’d be blushing up a storm if she had seen the sheer amount of clothing presented to you after you had stepped out the bath.)

“Huhhhhh?” Gojo’s leaning against you, pulling you closer to him as his hands spider across your upper back protectively, his smugness radiating off of him in waves. “You haven’t seen the collection Suguru and I bought then! It’s wayyyy better than whatever you have—!”

“Satoru… Be a gentleman.” Suguru appears, a tray of tea held within his hands as he appears, blankets tucked onto his arm as Shoko politely takes a cup of tea.

(Anyone would need it after having to stand within 2 metres of Gojo Satoru.)

“Suguru…” You can hear him intake a sharp breath at the mention of his name from your lips. The tray clanking down onto the nearby glass surface of a miniature table, Gojo gently pushing you forward and near the warmth of Geto, ensuring to not expose your skin to the night before he departs to sip at the sugary abomination created by his beloved. (Specially made just to cater to his tastes.)

“It’s wonderful that you’re— Saying my name.” The flutters in his heart refuse to still. “Though, I’d appreciate it if it weren’t with such dejection.”He stares into your eyes, adjusting the blanket as it flutters around you to keep you warm, the quiet banter between Shoko and Satoru filling your ears as his gaze holds you, slowly, patiently watching you try to find every word that you want.

“I’m just…” Your eyes blank out as your fingers start to dig themselves into your palms, the chill of insecurity, alarm and hopelessness about your own self coming to haunt you.

(The cold night already feels warm in all three of their presence… And yet—)

But you can be honest, right? They’d want you to be.

“In a hurry to be a bit more useful.” You whisper it, unsure and cracked, like you were going to cry, going to break.

“It’s okay,” His hand is upon your cheek, caressing and nurturing. He’s happy to see the colour, feel the sheer life once again. It almost feels like he’s still dreaming as he touches warm skin, tastes the energy that radiates from your body, hears your heart pumping vitality into what was once a mere corpse.

It’s an ephemeral feeling, overridden by the affection and love his soul held, reflected in his his soft eyes and softer tone. “You don’t have to rush back into being part of that—“ His mind flashes to the civilia— No, monkeys that surrounded your corpse, the higher-ups that failed you, failed him. Failed this family of his.

This family that he and Satoru clawed and massacred through to keep.

“World.” The words are said with an edge to them, a bit of malice, hatred and calmed anger.

You don’t need to go back at all, honestly. Just stay here— Forever.

“But I—“ Feel like you’re useless. Feel like you’re imposing. Feel like you’re worthless.

“How about this?” Gojo’s hugging himself around all of you, dragging Shoko along with him as he takes the spotlight, Shoko layering on her own provided blanket onto you as you feel the lanky deathgrip clasping, dragging all three of you into him.

“Stay home for a while and get used to life!”

——

“Satoru.” Suguru’s voice is soft, the way the man’s name melts off of his tongue so sweet it makes even you gush. “I have to make breakfast. Let go.”

Their sofa is surprisingly soft, comfortable and very pleasant to sleep on. Shoko making herself at home by taking up the entirety of the armchair nearby as she stays fast asleep, much alike the snoring Gojo holding onto both yourself and Geto, his arms stretching both under and over your bodies respectively as you stayed stuck in the middle between them.

“Nghh— Mm…” He’s ineligible in his slumber, unrelenting and letting his head bury impossibly deeper into the crook of your neck and feeling your skin with his own, a chuckling Suguru right by your ear as he feels the tightening of the honoured one’s arm around his waist.

He’s the first to notice that you’re awake, smiling at you as he continued to lay on his side. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

You don’t have the heart to tell him that it was a bit suffocating to have both of them clinging onto you for the entirety of the night.

“Good morning… It was comfortable.” You try not to shift— Stutter in your words as you feel lips mumbling incoherent sentences into the sensitive skin of your neck, Suguru’s hand stroking your hair back as you remain still.

“I’m glad to hear it.” The smile in his eyes is absolutely gorgeous to see, the shine of purple in the morning glow, akin to the beautiful glows of an evening dusk that begets the stuttering of your heartbeat.

“Hah! I knew they’d be here!” It’s not long before you feel weights basically pounce onto the trio of you huddled together, Suguru absorbing most of the blow due to basically having his body draped over you, Satoru finally stirring as he feels the pounding at his navel.

“Wake up, wake up!” Nanako’s voice is loud, hee energy rampant as she jumps up and down on Suguru, stirring everyone awake as Mimiko cuddles up to you, crawling underneath your blanket and onto you with her stuffed animal. Megumi isn’t far behind, choosing to sit down at the foot of the couch and stare as Tsumiki is vigorously shaking Satoru awake.

“It’s morning!!!”

(“Good god… 5 minutes more…” Shoko is hiding herself underneath her own blanket as Megumi stares at her.

“Didn’t you tell us that monsters will come get us if we don’t wake up on time?”

She has no heart to tell them that the ‘monsters’ was just Suguru’s calm anger if he ever found out she let the kids be late for school.)

——

You stare proudly at the perfectly cut out, perfectly browned and perfectly spread slices of cute toasts shaped into adorable little bears.

“Wooooahh…!” Tsumiki is the one whose beside you, ever the responsible one to help out for breakfast as she eyes the cute creations.

“You’re so amazing, Mama!” Her eyes shine with excitement as her brown hair draped and swung about around her face. Excited jumping in place as she continued to admire your work.

(You’ve always wanted to try this back when Shoko showed you some in a food magazine back then. And Tsumiki staring at pictures of it whilst concentrating hard on the bread pushed you to help.)

Despite the lack of a toaster, you managed to make the perfect slices with a skillet. The proud surge of pride fills yourself momentarily. Though, the crackling of the burnt slices not far away from the little experimenting make it hard to revel in your accomplishment.

“Now what do we do with the bad ones, Mama?” She’s caught your gaze, staring at them, poking the pieces she had unfortunately burnt in efforts to make the perfect breakfast for her family. “I’m sorry for messing up so much…”

Oh. You’re definitely not going to let her think that. The little faces of the cartoonish, almost burnt to black, bears sear your hand lightly as you pick up a slice.

“Don’t worry— I like my bread with a little… Crisp.” You’re still smiling, holding a slice in your hand as your hand is upon her head, stroking comfortingly.

Carcinogenic or not, it is a small price to pay to see her happy.

“Are you sure?” She’s looking worried, guilty even as she looks up at you.

“I’m sure.” Without a moment’s more of hesitation, you bite down.

You chew the burnt crusts, the crunch of the toast and crumbling of the ash feels bitter, hot on your tongue as you fight back a grimace. It leaves with a lingering burn as you swallow, tottering down your throat in incinerated lumps.

“See? I like it…!” You’re still smiling, patting her on the head. “I think that for your first try, you did very well, darling.”

Edible, but definitely not the most palatable. It’d be a waste to let it all go to the trash though, since it was her hard work. Your eyes narrow, squinting at the aftertaste of the creation as you turn around to reach for the jam to trick your tastebuds to intake the burnt mess of a breakfast.

“I’ll polish it off in no time with a little jam, so don’t worry and—“

Only for your front to be face to face with a sturdy chest that even you were too stunned to react to the sheer sight of.

“Satoru, that isn’t sweet…!” Your hands are dragging him down by the shoulders, voice tuckered into a whisper as you try to snatch it away before his reaction could possibly blow out of proportion. Yet, his broad form, despite easily allowing you to drag him down closer to you to reach for the burnt bread crusts, his hand holds it up high in the air as he continues to chew, completely dodging your attempts.

He doesn’t even respond, a hand going around your waist to keep your front pressed against his as he continues to stuff his face with the failed creations, slowly but surely packing it into his cheeks and having the gall to even contentedly hum as you struggle and fight against him, flashing a grin towards the confused Tsumiki with your hand on one of his shoulders as you press down, trying your best before you give in, stopping entirely.

You lose, of course. He’s the great Gojo Satoru. “Mmm… Could use a little jam, sweethearts.”

Tsumiki’s eyes are lighting up. “Is it really good? I wanna try too!”

The plate is confiscated by your own hands before she could try. “I-I think you should go help Papa get the others ready for school, and make sure they have breakfast on time, okay??” You’re trying to hide your panic, break free of Gojo’s embrace as you try to keep her from her creation.

“Well—“ She thinks momentarily. “Okay then!” She’s skipping off. “Papa, Gumi, Nana, Mimi! Breakfast is ready! Mama and I made the best breakfast ever!”

You let out a sigh of relief, placing down the plate and practically going limp in his hold as your face is planted onto his pecs out of sheer ease from the situation, not even registering the fact that you’re pressed up against his half-naked form.

“You did good, ya know?” He’s smiling down at you. “Don’t think I would’ve done that well.”

You’d make a great mother.

“You’re good at anything you try, Satoru.” Your hands come up to cup his face, gently thumbing off the tiny remnants of the crusts near his lips.

“Now let me go so I can plate the eggs.”

“Nope!” He’s popping the ‘p’, tightening his grip. “Not until I get my fill of you!”

(“Auntie Shoko… Don’t you hate sweet things?” Nanako is staring up at the lady as she chews on one of the cute toasts with strawberry jam spread.

“I do.” Shoko mumbles with a mouthful of toast in her mouth as a light smile encompasses her expression. “But I think they’re growing on me again.”)

——

“Are those new?” He nods, eyes fully concentrated on the strings of his shoelaces, his small fingers holding onto the aglets and doing his best to knot the fabric.

He’s 9, for god’s sake. And about to be extremely embarrassed if he can’t tie them in front of you.

(Nanako and Mimiko still use velcro, but you can’t blame him for how he thought Tsumiki was cool for being the only one with the tie-up ones. Like a grown-up.)

You watch him as he slowly tied the laces, failing and retrying. You want to commend him for not giving up… Yet, want to help.

You sit right next to him, taking a pair of sneakers that seemingly belong to Satoru… Maybe Suguru? No matter. You put them on, slowly doing the laces with careful precision, doing each motion as a slow example.

Megumi watches intently.

“I thought you weren’t going out.”

“No. Stay home and rest. I’ll be back after dropping them off, okay?”

“You can come with us tomorrow.”

Seriously. Nothing can escape this child.

“I’m—“ You sigh. “I’m not. I just wanted to help you out without— You thinking I’m annoying.”

He remains quiet after listening to your words. “…they never taught me how. So I— Don’t know. And I don’t want to bother my sister.” It’s his whispered admittance, gaze avoidant and shy. Still trying so hard to be independent, trying to show that he’s strong.

You’re both left alone as the kids totter about Suguru and Satoru in the kitchen, who are trying to pack their lunches.

“I can teach you.”

“…thanks.”

——

“See you all later then.” You lean down, pressing a kiss against Nanako’s forehead, the girl squealing as she hugs you back as a response.

Mimiko’s next, tucking into herself as she feels the peck on her forehead, a happy flush across her cheeks as she hugs her plush close. “And for her too!” She’s holding it up to your face as you giggle and give one to her friend too.

Tsumiki takes her time, letting you fuss over her a little and tuck her bangs in. “I like having them hang over like this though!” Okay, okay. You relent, letting her have it as you kiss her cheek. “Thank you, Mama!” She’s giggling. She thinks she won’t ever be too old to receive affection like this.

Megumi’s eyes are shifting all around, his steps nervous and almost embarrassed as he’s last in line. “I didn’t expect you to want one.” The blush on his face is furious and almost angry. “Just… Hurry up with it…!” He looks like he wants to burst, to explode where he stood. You relent and press a kiss to his nose, patting your hands onto the soft fluff of his hair when you’re done.

(He runs out the door soon after. So cute.)

You blink.

“Satoru…? What are you doing?” He’s right before you, squatting down and holding his knees, making himself seem small as he comes face to face with you.

He’s humming, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses as those endless black reflect your face onto them. “Waiting for my kiss?” It’s said with a tone of expectancy, almost as if it was common sense.

“…what?” You’re stunned as you stare back at him. A moment passes, and another beat.

He’s being serious. Well— Okay, you suppose. You lean forwards but stop yourself. You do love him… And legally married so… You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips, the surprise that overtakes him is more than welcome when you pull away to see a stark red Satoru that falls over backwards, a hand over his mouth, sunglasses flying off his face to reveal lovesick, puppylike blue.

Suguru appears almost instantaneously.

“My turn?”

You want to die of embarrassment.

——

“And then and then—!” Mimiko’s splaying herself out on your lap as she stares up at you. “Gumi took back my doll from the boy! And punched him straight in the face like Daddy does to the bad guys!”

Tsumiki’s right next to you, staring down a kneeling Megumi and Nanako before you as they bowed their heads in shame.

They both got into a fight at school with a group of boys after they tried to snatch Mimiko’s plush toy away.

(The surprising thing is that they won. You can’t help but feel a little proud about that. At the same time, you can’t believe you have to resolve this whilst Suguru and Satoru are having a parent conference with the whole group’s parents.)

“You both had good intentions— And I’m proud of you for defending your sister… But,” You harden your expression slightly. “You shouldn’t beat up a whole group of kids that badly.”

“…that it?” Megumi’s indignant, looking up at you from his kneeled position on the floor, bruises and bandages applied by you on his skin as Nanako stares up at you with guilty puppy eyes.

(Nanako has close to 0 injuries on her. Megumi made sure to take most of the blows.)

“Yea. But— No fighting anyone if—“ You look over at Tsumiki. “If you get injured like this. Don’t get into fights, stop them. Okay?”

They two guilty parties nod their heads.

“But if that doesn’t work still… You can beat them up.”

previous masterlist END

KOFI epilogue

Notes:

Megumi sometimes wake up in the middle of the night. To aid with this problem of his, he totters along to the master bedroom, clambering over either Gojo or Geto to reach you. He sits on your chest, shaking you awake until you stir.

Then, he proceeds to climb off, grabbing your hand on his way down to the foot of the bed as he leads a groggy you to his bedroom, where you should sleep with him instead.

Sometimes it doesn’t work because either or both of the men are entangling you inbetween their stupidly heavy, muscly and long arms and legs. That, or the twins or maybe even Tsumiki herself have already made themselves apparent, sleeping atop or close to your form beside their father figures. (Megumi admits defeat in these cases and joins the large pile.)

nvy’s aftertalk:

did i scare u when i said sign off? haha, first iPhone came out in 2007 btw

nvy, what’s in the works now that dyf is done?

well ig i’m gg to finish writing the epilogue first, then all the other drafts i have. some are dyf related, some are not. if i take a particular liking to specific aus, they’re turning into my next series haha (dw, most are satosugu focused)

thank you for reading all the way here. i appreciate it. it’s been a long journey for myself and for my writing, and i’m surprised at ppl actually liking my work. thank you, and catch u next time!!

#dyf au #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #satosugu x reader #jjk x reader #geto x reader x gojo

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larkspyrr · 8 months

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chapter i — we could form an attachment (wc. 4.9k)

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reblogs are appreciated!

The Opera Epiclese was almost always a circus — sometimes in the most literal sense of the word. But this event was on another level entirely.

The epicenter of Fontaine's rich history on Erinnyes played host to a menagerie of pastels, frills, cuffs, and nonsense. A sea of nobles and hopefuls swarmed the Court of Fontaine from Marcotte Station all the way to the Fountain of Lucine — a mass of the nation's wealthiest, most ambitious, and most eligible young people, escorted here and there by older family members with varying degrees of investment, twirling and sipping and gossiping.

The jets hidden within the overlapping layers of shallow pools spouted pillars of crystalline water, casting an almost imperceptible mist over the whole courtyard, granting it an ethereal charm and allure not befitting such fatuous rituals. A flood of rainbow roses, lumidouce bells, marcottes, and activated romaritimes bloomed raucously over every inch of the gardens, their aroma thick but not unpleasant, their petals offering a lush natural carpet for the venue — not that there was enough space between the milling crowd to appreciate it. Cuihua trees bursting with bulle fruit lined the perimeter, the little citruses begging to be picked, only protected by the unspoken high society rule that to do so would be unbecoming. A small quartet of violins stood before the fountain itself, playing a light-hearted and airy song to accompany the festivities, though not a soul was paying attention.

A few lucky (or conversely, unlucky) aristocrats may leave the Opera tonight with the promise of approaching nuptials and a happy future. Far more would simply leave with an impending hangover and some gossip on Baron Something-or-Other's latest romantic failings.

You took a dainty sip from your champagne flute. It would be more nauseating if it weren't so entertaining. You and Lady Furina seemed to have that in common — an enduring appreciation for the cyclical drama. You wondered absently if the Archon herself would make an appearance to stir something up. You hoped she would.

All the world's a stage, indeed.

You made your way across the courtyard, the click of your heels on the parquet stone drowned out by the throng; a nearby wide, stone planter in your sights. It would be as good a place as any for you to remain aloof and antisocial but still in sight of your father, who spared you a supervisory glance from where he stood with other noblemen, certainly discussing nothing of importance.

From your new perch, the noise and color and spectacle all were duller, easier to digest. You leaned against the marble and observed the sea of activity, daintily nursing your drink.

You were enjoying the time spent on your own when you heard a soft rustle of fabric to your right — a noise that would have been impossible to catch had you been any closer to the heart of the gathering. You turned in time to see a man you didn't recognize leaning against the same planter as you, looking for all the world as comfortable as if you'd invited him to be there.

You had not.

He didn't seem to belong there — that much was evident — and not just because he was an unfamiliar face. Tall and dark, his icy blue eyes were framed by a rush of thick, dark hair and a thin, crescent scar. Far from his only scar, by the looks of it — a complex network traveled down his neck and disappeared under his collar, intricate enough to rival the meticulous lacework that had cost your father a pretty mora at the boutique — despite your insistence that such costs were wholly unnecessary. The stranger's suit, a well-tailored gray and black ensemble, was partially obscured by a fussy, fur-lined coat. His burgundy tie was ever-so-slightly crooked, making your fingers twitch with the urge to adjust it. A desire no doubt born of the years you had been doing the very same for father.

Even under the warmth of the setting summer sun, he seemed to radiate a chill that brought goosebumps to your exposed arms.

If he'd ever been at an event before this one, there was no way you could have forgotten him. He seemed the type to linger in someone's mind long after he left a room.

He tilted a polite smile down at you.

"Good afternoon, miss," he greeted in a voice altogether too friendly to match his intimidating countenance.

"Charmed," you clipped. You gave him an appraising look, not rushing the path your eyes made up his frame, from the clunky boots, ill-suited for the occasion, to the silver streaks in his hair he didn't seem quite old enough for yet. He had the dignity not to cower under your inspection. "I'm afraid this flowerbed is occupied, sir. Please find your own."

His smile shifted and was clearly meant to look apologetic. You weren't convinced. "I'm afraid I can't."

You lifted a brow. If nothing else, this could be an entertaining interlude from the pomp and circumstance. "And why not?"

He cleared his throat, nodding in the direction of some hedges across the way. You flicked your eyes over discreetly, just in time to catch a head of blonde hair and another of jet curls disappearing behind the greenery, followed by stage whispers that surely they didn't think were quiet. Didn't they?

"You see," he began in a lower tone, clearly having better mastered the art of not being overheard than your spectators. "There is a gaggle of lovely but persistent young women in pursuit of me at this very moment, and I'd very much like to be engaged in conversation with someone else in order to postpone my torment. I'd be in your debt if you could look engrossed in this discussion for just long enough that they lose interest and find someone else to prey upon."

You hummed thoughtfully, watching now ginger curls leaning incautiously from behind the hedge, green eyes landing viciously on you and the interloper before vanishing once more. Just how many girls were hiding behind there?

"Oh?" you said, raising the glass to your lips with a smirk. "Not interested in sampling their scintillating conversation skills? Are you not here in search of a partner?"

"No, I'm not," he responded good-naturedly, running a hand through the artfully tousled sweep of his hair. "I have no intentions to marry at present."

You hmphed, twirling the flute in a gloved hand. "Yet here you are," you said, softly flicking the glass in his general direction, the tiny whirlpool you'd gotten going interrupted. You did not bother to conceal your skepticism. "Tolerating the vagaries of a high society debutante ball. And you'd tell a complete stranger this, because...?"

He leaned in, conspiratorial. "I am here as a matter of obligation only. Politics. Appearances. You understand." He returned back to his former stance, expression neutral, resting lazily against the polished marble. "Let's just say I'm sharp enough to recognize a kindred spirit when I see one."

You could feel yourself reflecting the same curiosity that danced in his eyes against your better judgment. This exchange was turning out to be interesting. "A kindred spirit, is it?"

"Indeed," he said. "Judging by the fact that you are also skulking in this corner and don't seem to have any more interest in mingling at this event than I do."

"I do not 'skulk'," you responded, unamused at his word choice. "And while I'd ask you to separate me from your assumptions, you aren’t incorrect. I'm also here only because it is expected of me."

He looked pleased with himself at your confirmation, and now dealt you the same appraisal you'd previously subjected him to with a calculating stare. You fought the urge to fidget under his evaluation, finding it beyond frustrating to have no idea what he was thinking behind his amicable yet inscrutable exterior. "Is that so? It is not often you see a noble lady uninvested in the affairs of the court."

You bristled, fighting the urge to furrow your eyebrows in a way you'd been told by many etiquette coaches was 'unflattering'. "There are greater aspirations to have beyond being a pretty little thing for some nobleman to set on his trophy shelf. Even for so-called 'noble ladies'."

He laughed then, a short, surprised burst. The sound was rich, reverberating in your bones. "My apologies. Please don't misunderstand, my curiosity tends to get the better of me. Indulge me?"

You sniffed, turning away from him once more to observe the hedge across the path — it seemed quiet enough now that the ladies within must have moved on like he'd hoped they would. Your chin lifted of its own accord as you flicked your eyes back to him. "I'm not interested in discussing my life aspirations with a man who lacks the good manners to even introduce himself first."

His mouth pulled up at one corner. "Are you sure the exchange of such confidential information would be of equal value?"

You held your stance, unfazed. "That will be for me to decide, sir."

"Very well." He inclined his head, an earnest hand pressed to his chest. "I am Wriothesley, Duke of the Fortress of Meropide. It is an honor to make your acquaintance."

You felt the color leave your face and your fingers go dead cold. This man — the Duke of Meropide, of all things — watched cheerfully as you hurried into polite obeisance. Damn it all. You hadn't exactly been courteous with the man. "Your Grace. The honor is mine."

His eyes still shone with mirth as you straightened. "Please, no need for such formalities. My mistake for — ah, what was it you said?'' he pondered, eyes drifting off in mock thought as you waited, drenched in miserable anticipation. "Right! ‘Not having the good manners to introduce myself first’."

Your cheeks warmed and you forced back a rush of frustration with yourself. "My apologies, I — I meant no disrespect," you said, gathering your composure. "You are not at all what I pictured, Your Grace. I hadn't known you were to attend a society function here on the surface."

"Tragically, society functions below the Fontemer are in short supply," he said sardonically. "And please, don't apologize, it's not often one gets to enjoy a chat with a charming, spirited stranger. What's your name?"

You offer it with another small nod. "My father is the Viscount Vellerot."

As if on cue, you faintly heard your father's voice calling your name from somewhere amidst the hustle and bustle; evidently he'd lapsed in his duty as your chaperone — once again — and had lost track of you. You weren't sure what it was he may want, though; clearly something must have come up to remind him of his purpose at this party. That was generally the way of things.

You tended to prefer being forgotten.

"And that would be him calling for me now," you explained as you pushed yourself from the planter and stepped past him. "This flowerbed is all yours. It was a pleasure to hide from the gaggle of lovely women with you, Your Grace. Good luck avoiding them for the rest of the evening."

He chuckled, a sheepish smile on his face. "The pleasure was all mine, my lady," he said. "But don't think I've forgotten our deal. You still owe me an answer."

With a vague smile and a polite curtsy, you disappeared back into the crowd, leaving the duke still leaning against the flowerbed.

Turns out, your father had only wished to introduce you to yet another son of yet another powerful acquaintance of his. His hopeful eyes as he sent the two of you off to dance only made it harder to turn the boy down, even if he were several years your junior and an entitled brat to boot. Your father truly only wanted your happiness, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him his efforts were in vain. This young noble wasn't the first you'd ever had to reject, and you unfortunately very much doubted he'd be the last — though you hoped he would, at least, be the last for that particular soirèe.

It turned out that would not be the case either, but you tried to keep an approximation of optimism anyway.

The one thing more sure than the line of people begging your attention — for want of your dowry and the association with your family, not anything to do with you, mind — was the tidal wave of whispers that had begun to take over the flow of the neverending gossip. It hadn't taken long for the news to spread —

Did you hear? This event has a special guest —

The Duke of Meropide is here? He must finally be looking for a duchess…

Come, Anne, allow me to introduce you to the duke. Fix your gloves, we want to make a good impression. Let me put this flower in your hair — maybe he will ask you for a dance!

Slowly, all the usual chirping melted away into one, resounding sentiment from all corners of the court — the Duke of Meropide is here, and he will be mine.

None of them knew what you did. You did your best to conceal your smile at the knowledge that all their posturing and peacocking was an investment in vain. Just as it was when their artless schemes were directed at you.

Afternoon melted into evening and you'd been idling away the hours, chatting to and dancing with and entertaining people who you didn't have the privilege to inform were wasting their time with you, longing to be anywhere else.

You finally seized enough of an opening to flee the courtyard proper for a moment of respite in a blooming hedge maze, as the gathering at the top of the grand stone steps was dying down and getting ready to migrate to the beautiful, opulent expanse of the Icewind Suite for the evening's grand finale. You found a remote, hidden spot and sat heavily, removing a shoe so you could massage the soles of your aching, overworked feet.

A branch snapped nearby and you whipped your head in its direction, heart thundering, to find the individual responsible for interrupting your moment of rest.

You should have known.

"We meet again," said the duke with a dip of his head.

"We do indeed," you said from where you were seated, letting your foot drop. Even in the dim lighting of the garden, you could see the man looked worn. Delight pulled at your lips at his evident misfortune. "Enjoying your evening?"

He sighed, a long, drawn-out, heartfelt sound. "Can't say that I am," he admitted.

You smiled ruefully. "That makes two of us. These events are nothing if not a test of our constitution." A yawning silence expanded between you and you slipped your heel back on, standing with a small stretch. You brushed down your dress. "I will return to the group. I really shouldn't be seen here with you without my chaperone, Your Grace. It wouldn't be proper."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't you ever get fatigued by these stuffy, outdated rules?"

"Every day," you said wryly. "But the rules still exist, and I have a reputation to uphold. I can't be thought to have been compromised. There are always sharp eyes waiting for someone to slip."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, keen eyes glinting, in a gesture all too calculating for your liking. "Why risk coming out here alone at all?" he asked. "What if a person with bad intentions were to come looking for you? Someone who might wish to 'compromise' you?"

"A person other than you?" you retorted. "All I know of your intentions is that they do not include marriage, yet here you are anyway. Who's to say what your intentions truly are?"

He frowned. "Point taken," he conceded. "Though I assure you, they are nothing untoward. You didn't answer my question."

Your smile was scornful. "Fear not, Your Grace, for I am quite sure no one at this party could present any real physical threat to me. Of course, we are all always subject to the whims of the rumor mill, and I'm afraid that could do much more damage to me than any wealthy man in tights ever could."

His lips twitched in amusement. "Physical?" he remarked. "You grow more intriguing with every word."

"I am quite skilled, sir, both with a sword and without," you replied, a proud tilt to your chin.

He hummed thoughtfully, nodding. "That brings our deal back to mind. What is it you'd do instead, if not play along with these society games?"

You considered him for a long moment. His curiosity seemed genuine. You saw no reason to lie or disguise the truth. "I'd become a Champion Duelist."

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly before his smile broadened. "How about that?"

Your eyes narrowed, leaning forward into his space just slightly. "Is there a problem?"

"Not at all," he assured with a dismissive wave and a light, surprised laugh. "Just caught off guard."

You huffed and leaned back, allowing the remainder of your defensiveness to drain away. "Miss Clorinde is an acquaintance of my father, as it sometimes seems everyone in Fontaine is," you said, dry. "She has been gracious enough to join me in training from time to time. Of course, that will slow considerably during the social season while I trade in my boots for heels and my fencing ripostes for verbal ones."

He looked lost in thought for a moment. "I knew nothing about the aristocracy before receiving my title — it wasn't part of the curriculum for urchins, believe it or not. But in all my studies since, I've never once heard of a member of the inherent nobility leaving their seat for such a role."

"There is a first for all things," you said airily. "I had forgotten you come from, uh, humble beginnings. Your studies must have been quite intensive."

"I do, and they were. They still are. There's a lot about all of this I still find kinda baffling. My 'humble beginnings' are unfortunately part of the reason I have to make appearances this season," he said, tone ringing resentful. "It seems not all of our peers are pleased that a former… commoner with an honorary title is in the position I'm in. There are those interested in incorporating the Fortress as an official Fontainian entity — a government-managed facility. The question of my legitimacy is only helping their case when I haven't participated at court in any formal capacity as Duke."

You pondered his words for a moment. "So the rumors are true? This truly is your first time ever attending a society function?"

He nodded, his nose wrinkling with distaste. "It is, and it seems no amount of reading could have prepared me for it. The Iudex suggested that making a point of looking for a wife of noble birth, genuine or otherwise, might be enough to keep the wolves at bay, at least until the nobility votes to solidify or dissolve the Fortress of Meropide's autonomy, and by extension, my position as its administrator. He said if I wished to sway the vote my way, then I'd have to convince them I belong." He grimaced. "And that I’d have to consider making some sacrifices to do so.”

"I can't say that I'm surprised," you said. "These people value one thing above all else — their own superiority. Anything that threatens that, threatens them. If you were to form a connection with a strong family, the fuss would surely die down. No one wants to be on the bad side of those more powerful than they are."

The duke hummed. "Then Lord Thibeault must think he is very threatened indeed. I've been feeling a bit like a fish quite literally out of water. Would it be improper of me to say I miss my fortress?"

You snorted, unladylike. "He's the ring leader? Lord Thibeault must have far too much time on his hands if he is available to cause as much trouble as he does."

"You're familiar?"

"'Familiar' is one way of putting it. Lord Thibeault is a busybody and a wretch. He can't bear to see anything fresh or interesting shake up his beloved court or upset the status quo he holds so dear."

"So it seems," the duke said thoughtfully, letting a quiet beat pass. "Your aspiration was a pleasant surprise. Thank you for sharing it with me."

"It is only a secret by necessity," you sighed. "Not because I'd like it to be. What was your expectation?"

"I didn't have any expectations,” he said. His mouth curved into a roguish grin. “Never do. That's what makes the wait so good. I love cliffhangers."

You laughed. "I'd hate to have kept you in suspense. Sadly, the endless cycles of dancing and tea and etiquette classes will leave me little time to continue my training over the coming months, so my dream will remain just that: a dream."

"Why do you do it, then?” he asked, cocking his head. “Continue enduring all this nonsense?"

"As I said before, it is my duty,” you said slowly, wilting. A familiar feeling of defeat sank into your bones. “It would set a bad precedent if I didn't. I have two younger sisters and my father is a good man who only wants us to be happy, but he is getting on in years and... well. If I were to dishonor our family by abandoning them before they were situated, I could never forgive myself."

His eyebrows drew together and you could see his gears turning. "That's why you continue to take part?"

"Yes. I just need to somehow find a way to avoid any... obligations until they are in safe, happy situations, and then maybe I can be free. They are only just behind me in years, so it won't be that long. If all goes according to plan, a few years, maybe. Otherwise, as there is no male heir, my sisters would be at the next Viscount Vellerot's mercy when my father passes, whoever he may be once he is named. I will not risk their futures for my own selfishness."

The duke frowned. "I don't think wanting to pursue what would make you happy should be considered selfish."

You shrugged. "Nevertheless, if I want to make sure my sisters are taken care of, I likely will eventually need to secure the hand of a respectable man, my own wishes be damned,” you sighed. “I suppose I just can’t help but to naively hope for something more."

He looked to be lost in thought, arms crossed in front of his chest, tapping a considering finger on his chin, a tap-tap-tap that set your teeth on edge and filled your with a sense of foreboding. His eyes, looking at something far off in the distance, eventually focused back on your own as he came to some hidden conclusion in his mind.

"And what of a duke?" he offered.

You blinked, your mind hurrying to understand the implication of his words, yet failing to do so. "Something on your mind, Your Grace?"

"I have a proposition for you."

You looked at him intently. "And what would that be? This isn't going to be another ill-fated proposal, is it?” you scolded. “I thought you were supposed to be smarter than that."

"Oh, not at all," he said, dangerous eyes holding yours in a vice grip. "We could pretend to form an attachment."

You found yourself temporarily at a loss for words. You heard him, knew the meaning of each word in solitude, but strung together in such a fashion they felt like mismatching puzzle pieces, the completed landscape out of reach. "What do you mean?"

He began to pace in the small clearing, gesturing with his arms as he unfolded the inner workings of his mind. "We are both uninterested in marriage and yet forced to give the impression that we are. I need the lords and ladies of the court to believe I have found my duchess to cement my legitimacy as the duke until we secure the Fortress of Meropide’s autonomy. You need them to believe that you are searching for a respectable husband to maintain your, and by extension, your family's good reputation until your sisters have found happy matches. Who could be more suited to our respective needs than each other?"

"You're suggesting a ruse?" you whispered, scandalized. “Are you crazy?”

"Perfectly sane,” he continued. “What I'm suggesting is that we let the people believe we are precisely what we are — respectably off-the-market."

You began to shake your head in disbelief, wanting to back away but finding your legs refusing to obey your command. "Your proposition is ridiculous."

"It's perfect,” he said with conviction. “What better way is there to keep the wolves at bay than to lower the gates? Plus — you understand more about how to blend into society than I could ever hope to, and let's just say that with my background, I could offer a hand in your training. We can help each other.”

“The season won’t last forever,” you pointed out. "And when autumn comes around?"

"Oh, that’s the beauty of it. We go our separate ways," he said, eyes gleaming like he was telling an inside joke no one in Teyvat other than the two of you could ever understand. "It didn't work out! It happens."

You laughed, incredulous, an unfamiliar feeling beginning to fill your chest.

"There are sure to be reporters for the Steambird here,” he said. “One dance in the Icewind Suite, and you and I will be the cover story of tomorrow's paper. Then, no one will touch us."

You blinked, running through every possible outcome and scenario in your mind, but — steadily, the pros began to outweigh the cons. You could continue your training. You would have to invest significantly less of your time at these Celestia-forsaken events and not sacrifice anything for either yourself or your sisters in the process. A smile crept onto your lips as the feeling in your chest reached a crescendo — it was hope, a happy, buoyant feeling you were always afraid to let yourself feel.

"This really could work, couldn’t it?" you asked softly.

His smile looked truly genuine for the first time that evening as he offered you his arm. "It will work."

Your arm was looped through the duke's as you made your way down the stairs towards the Icewind Suite, the path lined with lit lamp posts and romaritimes and gawking attendees. The hydro blooms were releasing an array of colorful, opalescent bubbles into the cooling night air, making the latest turn of events feel even more surreal than they already did. The usual residents of the Suite were nowhere to be seen, likely decommissioned, their eternal waltz paused so they could make room for the evening's closing event — and some select charades.

The crowd hushed as you stepped past, a wave of quiet rolling downwards, and you could feel the weight of dozens of curious eyes on you. With each step, arm in arm with the duke, it seemed that more and more attention broke away to hone in on you. You wondered vaguely if your father was anywhere among them — you wondered what he thought. You managed to spot Lord Thibeault in the throng — a disapproving scowl pulled at his wizened face.

Finally, the two of you reached the ground, the shimmering sea of polished marble spread out before you, empty but for the reflection of the night sky in its depths. It waited for you, the symbol of a successful evening of new partnerships and futures to be shared. You’d seen many a pair spin upon this floor — never once had it been you. You had never intended for it to ever be you.

All the world’s a stage, after all.

The duke gently shifted your body so that the two of you were facing one another. He bowed, an elegant bending of his knees and lowering of his head, far more graceful than a man who had his history etched into his skin should be capable of. He made it look effortless.

Icy blue seized you as he straightened back up, eyes crinkling ever-so-slightly at the corners. "Might I have this dance?" he asked, holding out a hand.

His mirror, you curtsied, slow and deliberate. You smiled, a small and surreptitious thing, and placed your gloved hand in his. "You may. Don't trip on your feet now, Your Grace. Rule number one for fitting into high society — you must be as graceful and confident in a ballroom as you are on a battlefield."

He pulled you in closer; too close to be strictly proper. "Call me Wriothesley. We want this to be convincing, don’t we?” he murmured into your ear. Another pulse of low whispers spread throughout the spectators as a few more pairs joined you on the Icewind Suite. “And you wound me, my lady. I think you will find my performance to be more than satisfactory.”

You swallowed thickly. "That remains to be seen, Wriothesley. Let's hope you can convince them better than you can me."

The grand ballroom and every last soul within held their breath as the duke placed a rough, scarred hand on the small of your back. You could feel the weight of it through layers of thin lace and silk as you wove your free hand under his arm and anchored it against the back of his broad shoulder. Your fingers on his back felt inexplicably cold, but the rest of your body burned hot. Your heart pounded. Your eyes locked onto his. Time came to a standstill.

“I intend to,” he said.

The music began to play, and you allowed him to lead.

a/n: so here she is!! i am really excited to get into this one, and i know there was a bit borrowed here from bridgerton itself, tho i promise this is where most of the direct similarities will end. i simply wanted to pay homage to where this idea initially came from <;3 hope you all enjoy

i didn't initially plan to have a taglist for this one, but if there are enough requests for one, i'll consider it. if anyone knows of a better way to notify people when i update (besides pointing them to ao3, anyway) im all ears

til next time!

#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wrio #wrio x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin imagines #reader inserts #reader insert #lark.writes #🌊

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oh-there-she-goes · 3 months

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Batman #145 (preview)

It infuriates me how Zdarsky kept having his Joker refer to Zur en Arrh as the real you or the true Batman. I understand there are many ways to write a character such as Joker, but to have him regard the OG Batman, who in part made him, as a second best to Zur, whom he had only met twice in his entire career, is so...jarring.

I sure damn hope Zdarsky was still cooking and intentionally having Joker spouting nonsense to mess with Batman here because God forbid if Joker was truly being sincere, it would taint all the history between him and Batman in the past decades, turning their dynamics lukewarm if not deploringly lackluster.

And why would Joker care to break the like of Zur in the first place? As formidable as he may, what's so sacred about Zur that needs defiling?

His swift execution of justice? Disproportionate uses of violence? Or his unadulterated brutality? Were these the qualities that left the Joker so enamoured?

One may say it's only natural that Joker would want to unleash his chaos upon Zur, who thinks himself a personification of control and order. But even considering his extreme measures, Zur has never stood against Joker at his core in the ways that Batman has.

In a world where nothing matters, Batman swoops in and fights him by trying to give meaning to everything. And he saves Joker, too, because he believes all lives are worth saving. And that's why Joker is determined to break him. He needs Batman to be wrong.

But what about Zur? Zur is just another man in power. He's dangerously competent, but he upholds no sanctimonious codes. They fight because they have different goals, but there's nothing inherently personal. Joker would not mourn the loss of Zur, and Zur would never feel the weight of guilt from refusing to let his monster bleed to death.

Then again, it might simply be my fault that I lack media literacy. Perhaps it has been Zdarsky's intention all along that Joker was lying. Maybe Joker elevating Zur to such esteem was just a part of his plan to push Bruce to ascension?

On a not-so-unrelated note, as there are many references to Scott Snyder's work in this run, I can't help chewing on how Zdarsky and Snyder differ in their interpretations of Joker.

While Snyder's Joker made it clear that he only cared about Batman and not Bruce, he had never wished for Batman to forgo his humanity.

The most Joker demanded of Batman was to get rid of the family that burdened him (which, funnily enough, Zur agreed). But his resentment stemmed from loneliness and jealousy.

In his heart of hearts, Joker knew they could continue their dance because Batman let it be so, hence the belief that his feelings towards Batman were reciprocated.

Joker even came to admit at one point that he no longer wanted to see Batman broken. What he wanted was for neither of them to win.

The Batman Who Laughs #4 (2019)

And unless something akin to 'Last Knight on Earth' happened, I see this as their dynamic in later years until either (or both) of them perished (which is unlikely to be soon as they both refused to let the other die).

Therefore, this Joker would never want Zur to enter the picture as it had been shown time and time again that when met with the more brutal, more...radical Batman(s), he always chose to side with the Batman who stayed humane.

Like when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, Joker is in love with Batman who refuses to change.

Batman: Last Knight on Earth #3 (2019)

The True Batman, for him, was the Batman who could withstand any test Joker and the world threw at him and remained the same.

Well..., who would like to keep dancing with a man who wouldn't dive from the top of the building after you anyway?

Still, I want so bad to be wrong about Zdarsky. I hope he has plans for them more than he lets on. (T w T)

#batjokes #joker #batman #zur en arrh #more rant than meta?

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twistedwonderlandobsession · 5 months

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Blinded by Beauty

Type: Angst

Character(s): Rook, Vil, Kalim, Ace, Deuce, Epel

Format: Oneshot

Warnings: !!Spoilers for Chapter 5!!, general grief, mentions of slight injury, mentions rejection

It hurt...so very much, you and Vil had realized it at the same time as you saw Neige's act.

You Were Going To Loose.

The burning sensation of mediocrity filled you. You could see it now.... but after a moment of calming yourself, you went off to find Vil, who had stormed off...

Your faith had been restored when Malleus had restored the stage for you. A glimmer of hope sparking in his support. Silencing your inner pessimist and focusing on the bright side of things. After merely fifteen minutes, you were watching your team preforming. Suddenly you were on stage next to Kamil, waiting anxiously as they counted votes, the minutes before recalling how you got here becoming a blur.

The voice of the announcer echoing throughout the stage as you stood next to Kalim.

Thirty seconds until the polls close! Ten, nine, eight, seven...Three, two, one... TIME!

A loud bang rang throughout the stadium, bot once, bot twice, but three times.

We are now getting the final tally.

...And the results are in!

M-my goodness... Is this really possible?!

Would you believe that the difference between first and second place is ONE vote?!

A long and dramatic pause ensued, you could Feel the tension in the air, and in your body. Physical restraining yourself from bitting your nails or picking your skin out of anxiousness. Purely because you knew Vil would scold you and probably gracefully beat your ass.

ROYAL SWORD ACADEMY!!!

What a wholesome performance it was!

O-oh my gosh... Really? We got the top spot?Thank you... Thank you so-

In that moment it was like your whole world came crashing down and you were reliving all those brutal rejections all over again as Neiges voice and everything else faded into the background....Why?...why did this always happen? Why were you always not enough? Always the last pick. Always the last resort.

And just like that you hear Vil in outrage breaking you out of you little world you always went to... you didn't hear the first part of the conversation like, but the second part is what broke you.

"Oh, fair Vil. Our Roi du Poison....I must apologize, for my choice has brought you much anguish...."

You glanced over at Rook to see him appearing to be sorrowful with his hands held up.

"But I simply couldn't lie to myself."

"...Huh? What are you talking about?"

Vils confusion was as evident as your own, since to you it was if Rook was rambling on about nonsense once more, but no matter. Rook carried on spouting his nonsense despite the reactions of others to his eccentric behavior.

"What? What do you mean, you're the one most deserving of my ire?"

"Well, you see... Here."

Rook pulled his phone out of out his pocket, unlocking it with his passwords and opening Google pulling up the voting website before flashing the screen twords the group showing off the bright blue logo. The lump in your throat grew as you faded out once more. Like you were no longer in the room but just a spirit watching over everyone. Not again please. Only able to observe as Vil stumbled backwards and Deuce and Kalim scrambled next to him to stop his grief and shock filled form from hitting the ground.

"...n-no..."

"Whoa! Vil, hold it together!"

Kalim exclaimed while grabbing onto Vil's left forearm and attempting to grab his shoulder as well but was only able to grab his upper arm due to the height difference between the pair. Meanwhile Deuce stood to his right wrapping his left hand around his back whilst holding onto Vil's other forearm with his right.

"Steady, sir! Here, hold onto my shoulder. "

Ace and epel were the loudest of the bunch whilst Jamil stood completely silent. You could practically feel Ace's outrage as he tried to refrain himself from going ham on Rook.

"Are you nuts, Rook?! Why did you vote for Royal Sword Academy?!"

Epel's County accent slipped through as he was far to blinded by his emotions to even attempt to hide it and Vil was to busy being shook to his core to scold him for it.

"I don't believe you! Why'd ya do somethin' so boneheaded?!"

Rook merely sighed and shook his head sorrowfully as if this wasn't his fault. Continuing to blabber on like usual although this time instead of being joyfull or filled with admiration his voice was laced with sorrow.

"I told you: I simply couldn't lie to myself. Neige's group believed in themselves and each other when they danced and sang."

His voice and facial expressions turned away struck as he recounted Neige's preformance, almost like his sorrow was immediately stripped away. Almost like it Hadn't been there in the first place.

"When I saw them up there, they struck me as powerful...and as the fairest of all in that exact moment."

"This is just... I can't..."

It felt like Vil was about to faint, and to be honest she wouldn't have blamed him if she did. It felt like someone was squeezing her heart Why...why did he vote for them...didn't they do enough? He had trained and fought along side them. So why now did he feel the need to suddenly swap sides.

"Vil. Nobody should believe in your beauty more than you yourself."

Bullshit

"It is most becoming, the way you maintain such rigid self restraint while polishing yourself to triumph over your rival."

Liar

But as long as you lack conviction...

Why are you even here, just leave

No amount of validation from the rest of the world will ever leave you fulfilled.

Shut up

Even if you wind up old, emaciated, grimy, and stooped over...If you were to truly believe that you are the fairest of all despite that, even the Magic Mirror of legend wouldn't contest your claim.

That isn't how the world works

The strength and pride to believe in yourself is what marks the true fairest one of all

Roi du Poison. Fair Vil. I implore you to believe in yourself more than anyone else. Beauty is always with you. At this exact moment, you are the fairest one of all.

You don't believe that

You wanted to tape his mouth shut. Why couldn't he just shut up? It made your skin crawl. Just shut up! If you weren't still on stage you would reach over and slap him. How dare he! How dare he be so supportive and upbeat only to cave in the end! How dare he give you hope only to crush it! How dare he betray his team!

....Why wouldn't he be quite...Please...please be quite...

You vision was staring to become blurry ans a headache soon followed. No one even noticed you as you left. they never did.... I mean after all

You were just the manager.

That's all you ever were to them, right? Always just some side character watching from the sidelines as everyone around you got what they needed or found closure...That's what you had always been. The disposable tool that people can pick up when they needed and abandoned when they wished. You were never important...not enough for them to stick around. Why weren't you enough? You did what they asked, you followed every rule, every social guild line, never complained, never spoke out...but then why did they always leave? Where you just not enough? You tried, you really did.

The voices of RSA and NRC all blurred together to create one mush of noises that would overload anyone's senses as you pushed through the crowd. Trying to get away, just wanting to be alone. Blinking away what you already knew were tears. Hoping you were quick enough to get to a secluded spot before you broke down. Slidding past all the crowds and in between the stalls to the only area you knew no one would be at, the forest behind NRC that was barely considered School property

Continuing on into the forest, going deeper and deeper as the hustle and bustle of the still ongoing festival vanished. Your legs were aching from all the walking but you pressed onward, even as it began to sprinkle. Hot angry tears pouring down your face making it slightly red and puffy. You hadn't even realized the sun was slowly beginning to set, the usually blue sky fading into a ombre of pinks, oranges, and yellows. What usually would have been beautiful now felt dull.

Your body suddenly stumbled forward, reaching out you hands to try and soften your fall, tumbling down a small hill you hissed in pain, body aching and palms burning as you slowly attempted to sit up. Groaning as you stood up, looking around, a sharp pain sent through your ankle causing you to hiss in pain and lean forward.

"Yeah there is no way I'm moving any further."

Reluctantly walking over to a nearby tree, wincing with each step.

"Ow."

The bruises and scraped from the scuffle with vil that had previously been soothed were now irritated once more from the small tumble. Groaning like a old man as you sat down, leaning against the tree for support, your head pounding from all the crying you had been doing for the past who knows how long. Resting your eyes for a moment when you felt a small droplet hit the top of you head, and then another on your arm, and another and another and one more. You laughed bitterly as you realized what was to happen in the next few hours.

"It's raining...it's really raining... and I'm stuck here. Just fucking great."

There was no moment of peace, there was no good luck, there was no break. Not for you at least. And there was no savior here to wisk you away to the warmth of your drab home. After all no one had even noticed you were gone dispight being absent for hours ans the sky now darkening.

There was no Prince Charming, and there never will be.

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triple-asstro · 1 year

Text

don't be shy, dear husband

summary: thranduil in a dream finding out about your traumatized past

AO3

translations:

Meleth nin - my love

Tinu nin - my stars

word count: 2.4k

tags: hurt/comfort, dreams, fluff, fear of expectations (atelophobia)

Thranduil doesn’t exactly believe in dreams.

To him, dreams were simply glimpses into your mind that others fail to observe. Brief moments to let your imagination run wild and remind you of experiences you encountered during the day. Late midnight dreams of soft flowerbeds after grazing your hand against an azalea the same day and dreams of massacring a horde of orcs were simply his admiration for delicate things and his pride showcased visually. They were nothing more than fantasies to indulge in; mere arbitrary images concocted in his mind.

Never did he think they were premonitions. And he never thought it had any more meaning than that.

You were someone quite different, and still so similar to the elvenking in so many ways. You were bold, confident and daring. Thranduil adored your confident demeanour and you adored his compassionate heart. It amuses you when you hear outsiders speaking of his cold and emotionless demeanour, a recurring joke between you and the elvenking. You also believed in dreams, but not in the way of Thranduil. You believed that someone’s dreams could predict certain things would happen in their lifetime, perhaps even reveal someone’s past to another. You even proposed the theory that, with elves and their soulmates, they could share a single dream in one night. Of course, when you proposed this theory, Thranduil was hesitant on the idea.

“Meleth nîn, I do not think that is what dreams were intended for.”

“It would make sense. Elves have soulmates, and there are past documents dictating that dreams have a deeper meaning in one’s spirit. If elves and their soulmate are made for each other and they share one spirit and therefore, share dreams.”

Whenever he would hear your explanation, which would always vary, Thranduil would always smile and give you a kiss on the forehead before telling you to continue. He always kept your ramblings stored in his mind, the sound of your voice soothing him whenever he needed it. He would especially replay it whenever uptight royals would spout off their nonsense during council meetings, a small smile creeping on his lips every time.

One night after he was done with a particular meeting, he entered into his chambers, approaching the bed. Moonlight shone from the window, illuminating the back of your head against the warm glow of candlelight. Your eyes slowly peered open, seeing Thranduil’s adoring eyes.

“Your meeting’s already done?” you questioned, readjusting your posture and letting out a small yawn.

“Yes, my dear. I apologise, it took longer than anticipated.”

“Did Lord Baronlir run his mouth again?” you asked, patting on the adjacent spot next to you to which he complied, sinking into the smooth silk sheets; an exhausted groan released from him.

“Unfortunately. He wouldn’t stop babbling about how we shouldn’t expand our trade routes past Esgaroth.” he explained, tilting his head towards you. “Too risky, in his words.”

“Too risky?” you exclaimed, your eyebrows furrowing together in confusion, much to Thranduil’s amusement. “What are you planning to do about it?”

“What do you think, tinu nîn?”

“Hm?” you said, looking at him with blank eyes. “What on earth do you mean?”

“I seek your opinion on the next course of action. We rule over this kingdom together, lest you forget. Your judgement holds as much significance as mine.”

You paused, recollectioning your mind before blinking. “Well… there hasn’t been any sign to indicate we shouldn’t expand. However, we should still keep our trade route with Esgaroth strong.”

Thranduil smiled, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “I couldn’t agree more.”

As he stared at you, he noticed your faltering smile and your stoic eyes. Your mind began to ease, resuming to a tranquil silence and rendering your expression melancholy.

“Is something troubling you, starlight?”

“Hm?” you asked again, fidgeting with the hems around your long-sleeve tunic. “Don’t worry.

Nothing’s wrong.”

“You are certain?”

“Yes, I promise nothing’s wrong, my dear husband.” you whispered, placing a soft kiss on his cheek before you snuggled into the blankets, drifting quite quickly into a bountiful slumber. He rested on the side, removing his red-berried crown and set it down on his bedside. He slowly relaxed, which was quite the feat for the busy king, he felt his eyelids grow heavy and exhaustion overtook him.

The second time Thranduil opened his eyes, he was brought to a grassy field. It was soft, grazing his skin and adorning white alyssums sprouting at the top.

White alyssums. This is a dream.

He arose from the bush, observing his newly found surroundings. Moonlight shone brightly in the sky with the surrounding area being filled with tall oak trees. Thranduil traversed through these trees, driving his foot into the vibrant green moss. As he began walking, the trees began to morph; change in front of his very eyes. The curves began to distort, looking more like spruce than pine. Then, his eyes caught sight of a flickering light, emitting a warm amber hue. Curious to see where this dream would lead, he pursued the light and never stopped until the trees shifted into oak and he reached a pathway. The pathway was of white marble covered with soot and dirt, similar to the marble pathways through Mirkwood’s forest. At this point, Thranduil felt quite puzzled.

While he would have dreams of his kingdom and its elegant markings, he’d never had a dream about the dark sickness lying deep in his forest's roots. It had always been an ominous, lingering thought that burrowed in Thranduil’s mind; tormenting him with sights of what his forest had been, a beautiful and serene landscape enjoyed by his people, and by his family, or what was left of it. Though with the passing of time, it’d gotten a fragment of its former beauty back.

Thranduil descended down the pathway, following it through the darkness and into the autumn. The leaves decorated the floor as late sunset leaked through. The pathway stopped abruptly at a house, one made of dark oak and stone. It looked similar to one that you had described to him, and once he got a closer look at the engravings on the windowsill, it confirmed his suspicions. What then drove him to come closer was the sight of you, descending down the staircase and resting on a nearby armchair. So there he stood, underneath the window, prying his eyes like a devious little child about to steal cake from an overbearing mother. Why was he even here?

“Sweetheart? Are you down here?”

He darted his eyes back towards the window, spotting you drifting your eyes back and forth as a woman descended from the staircase. You quickly rose from your chair and into the doorway to the kitchen before the woman spoke again, freezing you in your place.

“Where are you going? Am I that awful that you have to run away from your mother?”

You paused, your breathing hitched. “What have you done now?”

“Excuse me?”

“What decision have you made this time? What do I have to do now?”

“Well, when you frame it like that, it makes me sound like some kind of monster.” she chuckled. Thranduil saw your shoulders slump down and the disappointment in your eyes. He didn’t know exactly why he saw you in his dream, more importantly, you in this kind of situation. Whenever he had you in his dreams, it would be vastly different than what he was witnessing.

“Why are you getting so angry about it? I haven’t even told you what happened.”

“You do this every time, mother. Make decisions for me without informing me or asking about me. Does it take that much effort to forget I exist?”

The mother squinted her eyes in confusion, tilting her head slightly askew. “Of course you exist, I’m your mother. I’m making these decisions for you because I care about you. But no, you shove them away.”

“I don’t want them!” you exclaimed, backing away in order to sustain distance, but she only got closer. Thranduil’s breath hitched, growing more taut. “I want to go explore, live my own life and here you are, interrupting for what you want from me.”

“I’m only doing this because I want you to grow up in a successful and prospective family! You’re the one who’s so stubborn; what do you think is out there? I thought you loved your mother, but I guess I was wrong.”

Your eyebrows mangled together, eyes growing ever wider. You couldn’t believe what she was saying, but at the same time, you were disappointed. You learned with your mother, if you expected absolutely nothing from her, you would never be disappointed. But somehow, she manages to disappoint you even when you expect the bare minimum. It was truly a gift.

“...You never fail to disappoint me, even when I expect the bare dirt from you. I’m done.”

“What?”

“I’m done. I am done with whatever you think you have on me. You think you can fool and trick me, but you’re wrong.”

The mother’s expression turned sour, her mouth twisting downwards. Thranduil could see your expression turn hesitant, your eyes darting to the closest escape. He loved your ferocity and determination, it's always been a prominent feature he adored about you. But now, he was afraid to see it again. Before he could think, the mother suddenly grasped your throat, tossing you against the wall. You fell harshly to the ground, blood slowly dripping from your forehead. Thranduil felt a wave of fear course through his body, attempting to move, but something stopped him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move. Fear paralysed him to the windowsill as he watched in horror. It’d terrorised him watching his partner, his royalty, meeting harm to someone you trusted, someone who was supposed to protect you. Then, something clicked. The shock at your input being needed, your tendency to always stick to your words, it all made sense.

You attempted to get up, only to be grabbed yet again by her hand. The surroundings began to blur, your heartbeat raced against your chest. She tightened her grip around your throat, as you heard a faint ticking sound echo in your ears. You kept kicking and squirming against the weight, the fear consuming you into a deeper state of slumber.

You jolted awake, reaching for your throat only to find no grip, no pressure there. Your eyes flew around the room, observing for the slightest thing out of place, the slightest misadjustment to indicate the dream wasn’t over. You turned to your side to see your beloved sweating bullets, wriggling more often than he does.

“Thranduil?” you worryingly asked, shaking him to no avail.

“Thranduil.” you repeated but louder. He still kept writhing, his face contorting in displeasure. Now you were panicking.

“Thranduil!” you exclaimed, shoving him back and forth until his eyes jolted open and he jerked back up. Your hands cupped his face, turning it towards you. “Was it a nightmare, dear?”

His eyes looked crazed, belonging to a lunatic as he pulled you in a taut embrace. You felt his arms caress your skin, cherishing every touch, every texture he could feel. You could hear his heartbeat practically crashing against your ear yet, it still sounded comforting. That was the word you were searching for. Comfort. You yearned for the comfort of your husband’s touch, how his hands felt as they touched your hair, how his voice entrapped you in a lavender hazed daze, and how his presence added a layer of security to your day-to-day life. A layer of honesty, loyalty and trust.

“What happened, Thranduil?” you asked again.

“A nightmare…”

“A nightmare?” you asked. You had a nightmare as well, could it be that your theory was fact? Well, there’s no harm in finding out. “About what?”

“About you, I saw you, in danger.” he relayed, his voice quivering more than ever. Danger? What on earth could he be talking about?

A realisation hit you then. If he saw you in danger, and your dream had you in danger… No. It was just a foolish theory, was it possible? You kept stroking his hair, burying your head into the crook of his neck.

“Thranduil, what I am about to say might sound outlandish, but I shared the same dream.”

He stared at you, bewilderment prominent in his eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

“The dream… it was of my mother.” you sighed, sinking deeper into the silk sheets. “She wasn’t the nicest woman, more dreadful than others. Ever since this change, these dreams have been occurring more often. I haven’t a clue what it could be.”

“Meleth nin, why haven’t you mentioned this earlier?” he asked. He clasped his hand around your cheek, as if to shield you from what you’ve already experienced.

“It is… hard…to talk about. I have not in a while. It has plagued my mind, telling me terrible things. I’m - I’m sorry. I am trying to be strong, to be the majesty everyone needs. I…might take some time to adjust.”

Your mind flashed back to that moment, the moment when the crown rested on your head along with the eyes of every elf in Mirkwood. You were the new royal majesty ruling alongside the Elvenking himself ever since his late wife; of course there would be suspicion lingering in the air. Tiring nights of new trade routes and treaties couldn’t be seen during lavish banquets. You could see their disapproving glances cleverly disguised as accidental.

Thranduil pulled you into an embrace, stroking your hair with his hand, rocking back and forth in a swaying motion. His grip was taut yet comforting, soft kisses were planted on your forehead.

“Please, do not let those rumours corrupt your mind. It pains me to see you allow these mindless statements underneath your skin. You are a creature of immense beauty, tremendous intelligence; the only thing you’ve corrupted is me, mind and soul. Do not let the past leave its mark on you. You belong in this kingdom, and on this earth, more than any human, hobbit, and elf.”

“No dwarf?”

“Especially.” he said, disgust embedded in his tone. He chuckled alongside you, cradling you in his arms. If you told him the thoughts had long faded away, you’d be lying. They hadn’t left your mind, only dampened. You could still feel its eyes planting daggers in your skull. But maybe, just for tonight, it could rest. It could quiet down for just one night.

Right now, you have Thranduil. And that’s all you needed for ages to come.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil oropherion #hobbit x reader #the hobbit x reader

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cloudninetonine · 10 months

Text

A Player's Aid: Chapter 13

Fandom: Legend of Zelda, Linked Universe

A/N: I'D LIKE TO THANK EVERYONE WHO GAVE ME MORAL SUPPORT ON OUR GROUP CALL AND A SPECIAL THANKS TO MY EDITORS, FANGS AND SHY, ALSO FOR LISTENING TO ME REREAD IT ALL Y'ALL GREAT

Warnings: Bad language, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, threatening language, descriptions of sick/vomit/throw up, disturbing imagery descriptions and descriptions of panic/anxiety attack, also slight implications of suicidal tendencies

The weight of the world felt heavy on your shoulders in this castle of darkness and silence. Your body weak, shaking under the pressure of any regret that ever did cross your mind as you sat there, curled into the tightest ball with a tear soaked face and fear blanketing your eyes.

It was true, what they said. Near death, your life would flash before your very eyes, letting you relive every last waking moment in a solemn look that only grew more agonising by the second. Your mother? Stranded. Alone. Never to be seen again. Your friends? Abandoned. Clueless. Left wondering what happened to your being. Would you ever return to your home? Would Hyrule be your resting place? Whether from old age or the consequences of a risky move, resulting in a bloody pool beneath your cooling body-

How did you get here? When did you get here? Where were you? Was this real? Were you real? The suspense almost choked you, hands shaking with repressed emotion, clutching tightly to your cloak that hung from your shoulders. Home. You wanted home. You wanted your home. You wanted, wanted, wanted, wanted-

“(Name),” Wild called again, his hand coming to join yours balled tightly around the fabric of your mantle, “Please, I know you are scared but you must pull through.”

The Champion sounded so close yet so far. A mixture of nonsense and sense as your brain continued to stay muddled in the lone castle hallway.

Not a skulltula stalked the corners, nor did the Shadow’s darkness lurk, dragging against the walls and floor as it searched desperately for your petrified figure. Was he still reeling from your defiance? Had he simply taken the wrong turn at some point while desperately scrambling after you? Why wasn’t he here? Was he waiting? Watching?

A whimper broke past your lips.

Wild glanced around nervously.

What to do? What to do? The Wild Hero knew of your pain but yet didn’t know how to heal it. Time was ticking, he knew that danger was on the prowl and with only a lone holder of courage, the blonde knew that it would be a dangerous brawl indeed-

But then he remembered.

Wild remembered back, all those many moon cycles ago, when the Shadow had struck down the ranch-hand. Rivers of blood bloomed from the slash of the Iron Knuckle’s blow, spouting maroon sullying the area around Wolfie as he collapsed back onto the earth below, unmoving and quiet as time seemed to pause as all eyes fell onto him. He remembered the rage, he remembered the fear and the shouting and the pleas and he remembered it.

Standing. Watching. Waiting.

From anger sprouted seething hatred as he stared. It felt mocking, despite the apparent leaking wound under its bulking armour. Mocking of the hero before it, triumphant over its victory- Twilight had gotten cocky in his incessant hunt and now he had experienced its true power.

Wild had snapped then, watching his friend bleed out between the bodies of his brothers protecting him even unknowingly. His newly forged sword drawn at the ready with his hand itching towards his slate as he bolted towards it. The hero did not care of its destructive power, he did not care of the consequences of his rage; others yelled around him but he would not yield, not even for them.

And he did what he did best- he swung.

The Chains of Stasis keeping it still, he hurled hit after hit of his blade. Every emotion that burned in the rivers of his veins poured into the strength of each and every blow. The dents in the armour only fed into his bloodlust, gripping his heart, almost choking but he kept at it, kept beating until the dinging finally stopped and his sword snapped from the strain, the armoured giant bubbling from the tension before exploding into a barrage of scrap, liquid darkness pooling around the remains.

The first attempt to break them. Put the fear into them all as Twilight had laid in that inn bed. The Shadow had tried to pull them apart from the seams, digging its sharpened claws into the fabric to rip what held them together- their brotherhood, their bond. If one was to fall, what would become of the rest? Chaos would ensue and chaos did take its toll, fights and venomous words breaking out between them.

But…but Twilight had made it. Miraculous and a miracle, the man of muscle had returned to his brothers with only regrets of secrecy to his name.

Wild would not let this happen again. He would not let the Shadow grin that mocking smirk as you laid cold on the floor below, blood pooling beneath you.

“(Name), I’m going to lift you, okay?” Words soft, the Wild Hero stroked your hands, testing his touch. “Don’t panic.”

When you didn’t respond negatively he moved his palms downward, slipping one under your knees and tightening another around your back, pushing his weight onto one leg to haul himself to his feet. It wasn’t ideal, not being able to fight, but this was all he could do while you were still stunned.

Bouncing you a little, he readjusted you in his arms and made quick work of returning to his brothers.

----------

Despite the Ache’s deceit and malicious intentions- it had not lied.

The skulltula herd had been quite the fight. The dodging of pincers while slashing their swords, snapping jaws with saliva dripping an ungodessly sight until the very end, Sky plunging the Master Sword straight into the archnid’s softened belly with monster blood spraying. The hero’s eyes were dark then, watching the creature writhe and squeal in pain until the very end, the dark purple ‘poof!’ of monster magic fading along with any remnants of the beast.

“We must still check the castle’s library- whether or not another hoard awaits us.”

They had to find those hostages.

And they did.

Builders, guards, mere travellers and others from the settlement were held up in the confines of the library- singing praises of the heroes appearance, handshakes and hugs of desperation shared all around as they cheered.

“Our rations grew smaller, we were unsure if we would ever make it out alive!” Cried the head guard, Cillian was his name. “Thank you, good sirs, thank you so!”

“What led you into this mess?” The smithy had asked, “What happened?”

A builder’s moustache shook along with his wobbling lip, tears cornering his eyes. “Great big beasts with too many legs and eyes chased us! Attacked those who were unprepared! The library was the only place restored enough to keep back all of them!”

His friends comforted him as he wailed.

Cillian turned back to the heroes.

“Tell me, heroes- do these monsters still stalk those halls?” Cillain seemed almost afraid of his own words, let alone the answer. “Are we still in danger?”

The ranch-hand stepped forward. “We are all far from perfect safety but the hallways are no longer overgrown with webs or these creatures. We will escort you out, but any fighters who can still draw their sword should stay prepared to brawl.”

Hylians cried out in despair but the more battle prone called for their clarity- now wasn’t the time, they needed to escape.

The heroes did not forget of their other current affairs. Hyrule’s hand shaking around the hilt of his sword as he looked forward, dead eyed at the thoughts running through his mind.

Had the Wild Hero found you yet? Or did he still sprint through those halls? Once Twilight had tossed him with his shield, his bare strength throwing the smaller blonde over the crowd of monsters and a little further down the hallway, Wild had raced away. The skulltula couldn’t even keep up, left in the dust of the Hylian heroes brown polished boots. It was no surprise of course, the man had one goal on his mind and that was finding you- he had no time.

Were you okay? Were you dead? Hyrule’s pupils shook in boiling anger and fear. What if Wild hadn’t made it in time? What if he had just stepped into the scene to see the Shadow’s hands tear wildly at your skin, blood staining his claws as he tore out your own heart?

What-

A scream.

A scream so vile and horrid echoed through the stones, bouncing through the hallways and catching the ears of the masses. Others also screamed, horrified. Many covered their own ears and others ducked when the walls shook from this shriek’s power, dust crumbling from newly built structures and books falling off their shelves as the shockwaves hit until finally relaxing.

The heroes all shared a look.

Warriors wasn’t fast enough to grab Hyrule’s tunic before he was scrambling.

“Traveller!”

The eldest had roared, worried but also frustrated, but it was too late. Hyrule had leapt three steps each of the staircase and bolted right back the way they had come, the others in a state of shock before the Captain had begun to chase after him.

“I’ll make sure he won’t kill himself!”

And they, too, were gone.

Six remained.

Twilight’s hands twitched, glancing over to Time who could see the confliction in his eyes. Holding back for him.

He sighed, “Go.”

And now there were Five.

“We will escort you all, come.”

----------

Navigating the new paths of the castle was a little harder than Wild expected. It had been so long since he had trekked these halls, crumbling and blotched with Ganon’s malice as monsters of all kinds chased him. Bad memories, ones he would much prefer to forget, nevermind what this grand palace would have looked like before the chaos of the Calamity. Zelda hadn’t come to see the rebuilding yet either, despite the idea being raised, similar tainted dreams associated with her old home. It was why she stayed with him back in Hateno, making plans and working towards a goal in the confines of brick instead of the towering stone.

Anywho, Hyrule Castle was renewed and with renewal came new things- these were new hallways. Winding and detailed, new rooms had been carved from the remains of old- the webbing of the skulltula only added to the confusion, everything looking the same.

Damned beasts.

Sneaking by another one of those eight legged monstrosities, Wild dipped out of the room quietly and sped his walk to a silent jog, your arms tightening around him. More lucid now, you clung to the man in fear.

“Is he looking for us?” Your voice was a whisper, soft against his ear and making it twitch. “Or did he give up?”

He hated to quash that small spark of hope that dwindled. “I highly doubt it, not when it’s just the two of us.”

Your terrified whimper broke his heart. “He knows I’m the guide- he thinks I have some sort of magical power.”

It made sense, why else would he drag you here-

“He said he wanted it, he said he was going to tear out my heart-”

“Hey, hey, shhhh, shhhh.” The hero held you close, ducking into a corner away from prying eyes as you silently wept into his shoulder. “I won’t let that happen, do you hear me? He won’t touch a hair on your head.”

You’d cried like this only once before. Terrified, choked out, the hero could remember the weight on his chest and the feeling of fingers gently combing through his hair despite the lack of physical appearance with him. Wild could see the shading trees, leaves blowing in the wind as he laid in a pool of his own blood near the dead centre of Giant’s Forest- the Hinox remains laid just a little ways away.

“Please, Link, please you can’t die-” You choked, his heart hurting at the whimper. “You can’t leave me here alone-”

Wild hadn’t been gifted with Mipha’s grace yet. Too busy challenging himself to do more, beat more, he needed to be perfect when the time came to defeat the evil lurking within the cogs of the Divine Beasts. Better yet the malicious monster that resided in Hyrule Castle.

Yet there he laid, chilling and still in the once luscious green grass.

You had saved him somehow of course you had, someone just as amazing and brilliant as his guide would be the one to pull him from the brink of death. He would later wake from his unconscious slumber, laying somewhere different but bandaged and semi-functioning while you sobbed in relief. You never told him what you did, but he trusted you enough to never ask- after all, he always woke up alive, didn’t he?

Alive and remembering your shaking voice as you pleaded with him not to fall victim to his injuries.

Wild hated your frightened tears but at least this time he could do something about it.

Looking at him, broken and afraid, he moved his hand to gently brush away the wetness cornering your eyes. “I’m here for you, (Name).”

You searched his gaze for hesitation but found only sincerity.

“Do you think you can stand?”

“Y..yeah…”

The blonde helped you to your feet gently, his arm careful around you until finally you could stand on your own shaky legs, fighting back the mental exhaustion of it all. The hero pulled his sword from his sheath with his free hand coming to grab your own before tugging you to follow after him quickly, eyes scanning the area then quietly jogging towards another corner.

Another body slammed right into the both of you.

Winded, you could only manage a yelp, falling back along with the wild hero who portrayed a wide eyed protective rage only to gape at the familiar sight of shaggy brown hair and eyes of emerald green with dusted brown as you all crashed down to the floor below, the other form jumping back in surprise.

Hyrule’s sigh of relief held what could have been mistaken for his soul returning to his form.

“(Name).”

“Rulie-” You were tackled, body almost constricted by his tight hug. “Hyrule- Link-”

“I’m sorry.” He rushed out, his face settled in your hair. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry we couldn’t stop it-”

“‘S’okay-” You sniffled but Hyrule’s shaking breath stopped you.

“It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“...I lost your dagger, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be silly, you’re more important than a measly blade.” You felt a tear drop into your hair, “So much more important.”

Your own hand came to gently brush his hair, brown curls engulfing your fingers as you worked to relax the tension out of his body. Your other hand still grasped Wild’s, squeezing gently at the digits to remind him that you hadn’t forgotten his presence, far from it. The reassurance was met with a grateful squeeze back.

“Come, we must go.” Once again you stood, the three of you a tight knit with the heroes still brandishing glinting swords. “Who knows where the Shadow could be-”

“There you are!” Hyrule flinched, turning back the way he came to see Warriors and Twilight jog down the hallway, only stopping once they had finally gotten closer- none looked please. “Traveller we’ll talk later about your selective hearing- Champion, (Name), are you alright?”

The Captain looked relieved but with an air of professionalism around him, standing tall with both his sword and shield pulled at the ready for combat. Twilight wasn’t quite sitting in the same boat- the anxiety blooming into relief at the sight of you but more so Wild, muttering a soft ‘thank the goddess’ under his breath before stalking closer to slap him upside the head.

“No more idiocy.”

Wild’s face showed understanding but his eyes sung a different chorus. “You and I have different definitions of what counts as idiotic.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“As I said, later,” Warriors insisted, turning back, “I saw an exit not much further back, we can meet the others outside and discuss any previous misgivings when we are whole-”

“There you are.”

Ice.

An icy chill filled the air around you as your stomach dropped right into a pit of despair, the hairs on the back of your neck standing with electrifying effort accompanied by the feeling of dread dragging a sharpened claw right up your spine.

You turned slowly in comparison to the heroes' snapping spins, swords and shields at the ready while staring with eyes of venom at the seeping shadows that curled round the corner of a following hallway at this crossroads of sorts. Darkness lurked, light from the hanging torches blown away by a haunting whispering wind as a murky blackness finally came into view with eyes of red and a mouth pulled to show rows of too many teeth.

How Nintendo had reduced Dink to something so puny was beyond you- he was fucking horrifying.

“Ah, and the heroes of Courage too- what a delight.” Too many voices, couldn’t he just choose one? You covered your ears like a frightened child. “Have you come to see the execution?”

“Shut your mouth, evil scum.” Hyrule hissed, “The only execution we’ll be witnessing is yours when I behead you-”

“Oh do quieten down, Hero of Hyrule, your words aren’t as impressive as you think.” Hyrule huffed in anger and the Shadow cackled, “Awh, have I upset you fairy boy?”

A phantom red sword flew through the air and Dink dodged with only another laugh, rolling with the darkness beneath his form.

“Oh, almost- better luck- hm? Never.”

From behind you, you felt a shift. Just the tiniest bit of movement but still it had you glancing back quizzically to Twilight, his form stiff and slightly…shaking as panicked eyes stayed focused on the monster in front of you all. You weren’t the only one to notice, however, Wild glancing back in slight concern with Warriors stepping closer to his brother in spirit.

Dink noticed too.

And he smiled wider.

“Hero of Twilight.” He cooed, words dripping honey that hissed and bubbled with underlying poison. “Awh, what’s wrong- seems as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Twilight’s sword shook in a sweating grip. “Shut your mouth-”

“Or maybe you’re just…” The shadows shifted for a moment and you swore you saw the glinting metal of an Iron Knuckle’s helmet staring right back at you. “...scared.”

Twilight’s ears folded back along with his steps, skin paling.

Warriors looked pissed. “Ranch-hand, do not-”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you too, captain.”

Once again, Dink changed, yet this time a younger version of the Captain stared back.

Warrior’s tensed.

No. No you wouldn’t let this happen. No matter your own heart crushing fear you were not about to let this bastard do this to them. Dink could scare you as much as he wanted, threaten you and nearly end your life but you drew the line at the others, you would not let him scare these heroes just like he scared you.

Fucking bastard, using the weakness of others against them.

“I’ll fucking show you…” A muttered growl did not catch his attention, nor did your movement as you leaned down to grab the convenient crumbled brick just a little ways away then stand once again.

You did this lightning fast, not allowing even a moment of hesitation from you or consideration from them as you ditched the slab right at his face.

Surprised chokes left all of them as Dink yelped in pain then cursed, that same demonic growling from earlier leaving him. Despite his body merged in the darkness you could see the blood curl around his fingers as his hands desperately tried to cover the damaged eye that still glared molten scorn right at your figure.

“You litTLE BRAT!” You flinched at the rage but tightened your resolve, standing just before Warriors and Twilight so he would focus on you. “When I get my hands on you again I’ll tear you limb from limb-”

“I don’t think you can.” You were talking nonsense but you didn’t care. “I think you’re too fucking stupid to- I mean I got away once already, whose to say I can’t just do it again?”

You just loved tempting fate, didn’t you? Tempting her and the devil that she tangoed with as Dink’s pupils shrunk in a frenzied rage while his shadows whipped around him angrily, searching for something to break- something to destroy. Hyrule and Wild stepped a little closer together, acting as a shield in case those tendrils of shade got too close.

“Watch your tongue before I cut it out-”

This time the phantom sword struck and it struck hard, impaling right into the Shadow’s shoulder with a gorey ‘schlink’ that pinned him to the wall behind him. The monster shrieked, gargling in pain with volumes that raised and dropped, tones that lightened and deepened while his hand, holding his bleeding eye moved instead to grasp at his punctured shoulder.

There wasn’t much else of the scene to watch when you were thrown over someone’s shoulder and rushed away from it all. You tried turning to count heads and see who had grabbed you so quickly but when the sound of rushing footsteps caught your attention. You stared back at Dink who had sunken into the shadows that chased after you all, the light from the torches vanishing as the darkness caved in on the corridor and filled it with nothing but pitch black.

You could only see his eyes.

Haunting, raging eyes as they chased the five of you, stealing the solace of the light to take over with his gloom.

You were hypnotised by the morbid spectacle.

It was fast.

Really fast.

A quick turn almost gave you whiplash but you still watched him run, dementated as he slammed into the wall before shaking off his daze and crawling like a demon against the floor. Still no body, only shadow as you got closer and closer to a large brightness that hung behind you.

“Almost there!”

“Is it still chasing us!?”

“Dear Hylia in heaven-”

You felt its hatred. You felt its wrath. You felt its bloodlust and you felt your own fear crawling back down your spine. You imagined those scenes in horror movies, the eldritch abomination scrambling over itself as it frantically chased the poor victim through those darkened scenes- this is what it felt like. This was the dread those innocent people experienced.

You watched helplessly as claws reached out to grab you, infernal cursing catching your ears as its hand loosely missed your saviour’s shirt-

Light almost blinded you as you entered the outside world. The sun glaring down on your small group as they skidded to a stop just before falling right off a collapsing cliff side.

They turned instantly, swords still pulled and ready to fight, your body falling off the shoulder of Hyrule who looked murderous as he kept his sword pointed towards Dink.

The Shadow’s darkness took up the whole of the doorway, twitching and humming with a putrid magic as Dink just stood there. Watching you all with crimson eyes, with black ooze still dripping from one of his sockets along with the hole in his shoulder, he did nothing. Made no move, made no sound, the only thing he did was stare- right at you, centre of the group, burning and hate filled.

You didn’t understand why he didn’t move closer after all he did not burn in the sun. However, maybe the light still had an affect, the monster was a shadow after all and the two did not mix well- maybe this applied to Dink also?

Maybe four was too big of a crowd in the shine of the afternoon sun.

“Well!? What are you waiting for?!” Wild hissed, walking forward only to be grabbed by Twilight. “Fight us, monster!”

Dink’s glare moved to Wild, still just as sinister and vile before he turned back to the darkness and left you at that, standing there and viewing the ordeal with a growing confusion.

Was that…really it?

“Why did it just-”

“Doesn’t matter.” A soberness washed over Warriors, his eyebrows pinching. “If we are to fight him we need the Master Sword, let us return to the group-”

Hyrule’s face was plastered in disbelief. “And just leave that thing there!? It could get away-”

“What would you have us do, traveller!?” The captain looked frazzled, hair messy and eyes wild in contrast to his usual pristine presentation- Dink’s little trick must have gotten to him worse than you had expected. “The Shadow does not die by natural steel, the sword is our only hope!”

Wild looked just as desperate as Hyrule, spinning in Twilight’s grip “So we just leave the beast!? No, if one of us were to return to the others and bring them here-”

“If the beast is still watching us it would be sure to attack if we were alone.” Twilight tightened his hand, a reflex with the champion. “We return to the others whole and discuss a plan.”

“We need to attack while we still have him here!”

An argument bloomed with the men, voices raising along with hands waving but it slowly muffled out the longer that you stood there, eyes still focused on that shaded hallway of trickery and pain.

You had almost died.

The words echoed around your head like a siren in the foggy night, screeching, painful, and anxiety inducing as it clawed at the inner walls of your mind. Scratched in by bloodied fingers of a madman, his fingertips soaked with crimson as he muttered the words like a cruel mantra.

“Dead. Death,” He sung, with a jolly preen, his eyes bloodshot with a lust for pain. “Dying. Suffering. Murdered. Brutalised. Slain. Killed.”

Your breaths became pants. Your pants became chokes. Your chokes became hyperventilating as tears streamed down your face. Clutching desperately at your chest, you frantically heaved for air as your knees buckled beneath you and you fell to the earth below. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t speak, only cry and shake as you tried forcing sound to leave you. A whimper. A moan. A word. Hell, a laugh. Yet nothing seemed to break free.

Digging your nails into the position where your heart pounded, you twisted your hand in a motion, attempting to tear it out. It didn’t work, it wasn’t doing its damn job- better it laid in the dirt with the insects than inside you if it would only serve to be damaged goods.

Nonetheless, you finally managed something. Moments of struggling dragged into hours of torture finally minimalised when you sucked in a massive portion of air, body arching from the pain as you forced it into your lungs.

And you screamed.

Ears ringing as it progressed from a small yell to a blood-curdling wail, voice refusing to break as you tore your throat to let out everything you had bottled down in that last horrible hour.

It had only been an hour.

Your head slammed against the dirt, body curling into itself as you felt your throat grow raw from the excessive shriek. A violent reaction, a bubble ran up your throat and you gagged, pushing yourself higher and hurling your digested breakfast all over the ground, scrunching your watering eyes shut in an effort to avoid the scene of acid and chunks sullying the earth.

Hands reached you, your name being called but it didn’t stop the repeat of gags and sobs.

Your body finally gave out.

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu #linked universe imagine #player au #a player's aid

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rocknroll7575 · 5 months

Text

Awakening

Raven walked away after she dealt with her daughter, it was rather easy, which was disappointing, still, she let her daughter's team live, and that one girl from that other team had potential, however, those three other weaklings were dead, or sure to die soon. She stabbed the sniper in the kidney, the one with the mace had his chest cut nearly open, and the blonde had been surely killed, she had stabbed him in the chest and then slit his throat.

Raven closed her eyes and sighed, 'Shame though... that girl with the blue hair had such potential with her semblance' Raven thought as she walked to the front entrance. 'Sad that Summer produced a stronger spawn than I did,'

"Hey there!"

Raven's eyes shot open and she looked in front of her only to see the blonde knight in front of her. He had a wicked grin on his face and his armor was indeed bloody. She was shocked, she swore she had killed him! She stabbed him in the chest and then the throat! How could he possibly be alive?

'How is he alive!? Wait... his wounds are completely closed! Not even scar marks... Aura can't do that! Not even an extreme healing Semblance erases scar marks... could it be he possesses magic!?' Raven thought. "You... possess magic!?" She asked.

Jaune chuckled, "In a way I do but I never thought I'd be able to use it while he's stuck deep in my head! But here I am! I could never do this before! Even when Ozma was trying to teach me I couldn't understand a damn thing! But oh man! This! THIS FEELS SO GOOD!" Jaune cried before continuing to talk

Raven glared at him, 'Somethings off... he rambling, spouting almost udder nonsense... Is he high?' Raven asked.

"But Ozma was right! It's easier said than done! I never could do any of this until now!" Jaune cried as he looked the happiest he had ever been. "I finally understand it! I finally grasped it Ozma! The core of my soul! The core of Magic! See Raven! The reason you're going to lose is because you didn't cut off my head!"

Raven smiled and glared at the young boy, "I'm going to lose?" She asked as she pulled out her Katana and took a fighting stance, "You must be joking! You've just barely learned how to use Magic! This fight is just getting started!" She cried with a glare and a smirk.

"Is that right?" Jaune asked before his smile widened, "You could be right... no... no... YOUR SO RIGHT!" Jaune cried.

"Unlike Raven, who was given magic by the previous Maiden, all the knowledge of how to use it was passed on to her, which allowed her to understand how Magic works..."

Raven charged at him with her sword ready to strike him like she had before, however, Jaune's eyes glowed green and he pointed his finger at her and a bright green ball of energy, still smiling.

Reven went wide-eyed as the ball formed and then blasted forward, Raven quickly tried to block it, but the attack pushed her back, sending her flying back

"However, when one who possesses manages to awaken their Magic for the first time... something happens within them..."

The attack disappeared once Raven was sent crashing into a part of the building and Raven grunted in pain, however, she looked forward at the young knight only to see him floating in the sky, as if he was simply floating in the ocean.

"Once one awakens their Magic, they gain an understanding of their soul... they achieve Nirvana for that moment,"

Jaune looked at the sky and simply seemed to be at peace, a soft smile on his face, it was as if he wasn't in a fight, as if he hadn't seen his friends get hurt.

Raven was in awe at how... at ease, the young man seemed.

"However, usually that feeling only lasts a minute, but because Jaune Arc's Soul is far different than most..."

'I'm sorry guys... I don't feel a thing right now... all I'm feeling, is this beautiful world around me, I don't even feel hate, nor do I want revenge, all I feel is pure bliss,' Jaune thought to himself. 'However, I know... I can't let raven go unpunished'

Jaune then looked down at Raven, as if coming out of a daze, and when Raven looked at him, she felt fear strike her very soul.

"Jaune's very soul houses the most powerful and greatest wizard to ever exist and it alone possesses an extreme amount of Aura that surpasses the likes of Ruby Rose and Headmistress Glynda Goodwitch..."

'Something's off...' Raven thought, 'Something is very off...'

Jaune seemed to turn in the air and stand right where he floated and he smiled down at her, then pointed his finger up in the air and one to the ground.

"So that feeling of Nirvana would last a whole 7 hours, and in those 7 hours, Jaune Arc, the host of Ozma the Great..."

"Understand this, Raven..." Jaune began, "Among the heavens and of Remnant, I alone am the honored one," He said softly.

"Was the most powerful being on the face of Remnant!"

Suddenly, Jaune appeared a few feet in front of Raven and summoned his sword in the blink of an eye, shocking the older huntress, Raven prepared to block Jaune's attack, however, the young knight's sword glowed green and he swung, cutting through Raven's sword... and Raven herself...

In that single moment, the weakest student at Beacon had killed the most dangerous woman on Remnant...

XXX

A few minutes later, Yang slowly made her way back up to the entrance and that's when she saw a sight that shocked her to the core.

On the ground, cut in two, was her mother.

Yang fell to her knees in shock, she couldn't believe it, her mother, the person she had been searching for her whole life, the person she needed answers from on why she abandoned her... was dead.

She looked away from the body only to see Jaune, standing next to the bodies of his team, all three had green orbs floating over them.

"J-Jaune...?" Yang called out, "What happ-?"

"I killed her,"

Yang's heart stopped, "You... you killed her?" Yang asked, her voice slowly breaking.

Jaune didn't turn to her, he just nodded. "I killed her, I don't regret it," Jaune said. "If you're feeling angry then-"

Suddenly, Yang's fist came at him but was stopped in mid-air, not even close to touching him. The blonde girl's eyes were red and her hair was ablaze, she was seething with anger and it was all focused on the one in front of her.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" Yang yelled.

jaune finally turned to her with a soft smile, "If that is what you want... you can try," He said.

"There was still 7 hours till Jaune's "Nirvana State" would disappear and it seemed that the fighting was not over..."

#rwby #rwby meme #jaune arc #rwby guardian ghost au #rwby au #raven branwen

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