#only happened because one brave man had a Vision
Text
So anyway this is the newfound brain rot because I got to many ideas, not enough for a fic, but it’s gonna distract me from others so here we go lol-
(Also yeah Grandpa I’m in a manly mood)
Note from weeks later: Nah this bitch a fix tf-
“Tell me about my Дедушка*.”
Capitano looked down at the ginger with contempt. It was often now, since Dottore had let it slip - curse that bastard - that Tartaglia’s Grandfather was a Harbinger. Apparently the boy had been raised to think that great man was simply a lowly solider, not one of the most powerful men in Snezhnaya.
When he heard that, Capitano had never wanted to kill a family more.
They hid your legacy from their kids, how dare they keep living as thought they had any right!?-
He sighed.
The boy continued to bother the much larger man at any chance he got, borderline begging - or now was he? Maybe he crossed that line ages ago - the man to tell him anything about his grandfather.
War stories, tall tales, hell even DRINKING stories, the 11th would take any.
It wasn’t like his Grandfather wasn’t alive, Childe could leave the palace right now and go ask you, seeing as you lived with his family.
But what Childe wanted was to come home one day in a boisterous manner and shout at his parents:
“You LIED you FEINDS!!! How DARE YOU LIE to not only ME but the REST OF YOUR CHILDREN about their ГРАНДФАТЕР?!? And to YOU, ГРАНДФАТЕР, ALLOWED THEM TO LIE!!! How COULD YOU?!?”
But he held to much respect for both them and you, even if his father sent him off as thought sending his blood thirsty son to join the Fatui would do anything. It was like sending a polar bear to a penguins nest, he had no clue what his father was thinking.
No matter, because you were there, showing him moves and teaching him tricks and giving him tips. Though, he still felt a bit betrayed at the fact that you even hid the fact that you were one of the strongest men in Snezhnaya.
“You truly wish to know boy?” The sharp voice of his superior snapped Childe out of his head. A quick nod was enough to bring Capitano to a nearby chair and sit, Childe quickly following.
“He was brave, I can say that much… He was around before me and had made a name for himself long before I even dared touch the Fatui, let alone graced its ranks.”
Childe took in the information like a sponge, absorbing everything the man said.
“They called him Большой хищник Севера*, a powerful title I’m sure you can see. It is said that before his accident, he had not lost a single man in war or battle, but after, he only lost seven men, one of each nation.”
Childe looked on in wonder. Only seven men… in the entirety of his Harbinger career? He knew the Doctor could never account for that.
“Wait… his accident? Do you mean..?” “Yes, when he first received that scar across his face, marring it, that was the first time he lost a man, someone near and dear to him as I’ve heard. I was only then truly climbing the ranks when this happened… a pity. But he wore that scar, and his friend’s Vision, with pride.” Childe gaped.
“Wait, you mean to tell me that-“ “Yes, Tartaglia, that Vision he carries in his eye, as well as arm and ear, back and finger, even his heart, they all work. They are the last pieces of his closest comrades. He’d rather die than give them up, I’ve heard. Unfortunately the strain of using them forced him into retirement, but he comes when we call.”
Childe’s eyes widened as he screamed.
“WAIT THEY WORK?!?-“
⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆
“BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-“
Ajax looked on in awe at his Дедушка. The nearly ten foot tall giant of a man, with a full beard and furry body hair to boot had just pulled a huge fish out from beneath the ice sheet they currently stood on while ice-fishing, bare handed.
Your roaring laughter echoed through the tundra as you held the fish up proudly. You grabbed the then four year old and hoisted him onto your shoulder, that which he could fully sit on and still have some room. His hands latched onto the side of your face but that didn’t seem to phase you, as you continued your loud laughter. The cause of your laughter, being that the fish was the same size as Ajax.
“LOOK AT HOW LARGE IT IS, МАЛЕНЬКИЙ ОДИН*!! SHE IS THE SAME SIZE AS YOU BWAHAHAHAHA!!”
Ajax’s entire body shook as you continued to laugh, giggles beginning to bubble up from his own mouth.
He watched as your Hydro themed earring bounced around as your body gyrated up and down from the mere force of your laughter. His laughter grew until the two of you were basically screaming out through the tundra.
You sighed and - while still chuckling - wrapped an arm around the boys waist and began walking back home. Of course, not before grabbing the bucket filled with other fish from your fishing trip.
Ajax didn’t want to say anything, on account of the fact that it would’ve been disrespectful of course, but your arm that was wrapped around him was bumpy and hard and cold, not unlike a certain place on your chest, though it was just super cold.
The arm was usually covered in more layers or a bunch or bandages wrapped around it to soften its shape and surface, but Ajax could still feel the sharp points and edges, though he never minded.
Eventually you both made it back to the house you shared with his family, and ducking under the doorframe quickly alerted the family of your presents.
“ГРАНДФАТЕР!!!!” Ajax’s two younger siblings - a third was on his way, Teucer would be his name - ran up to you jumping at your feet. You chuckled more and let their heads, greeting each.
“Tonia, Anthon, calm yourselves!! We were only gone a few hours hah hah!!” The two only cried out in joy louder, wrapping themselves around your legs. You stumbled for a moment before walking forward as if they weren’t there.
A man and a woman watched as you walked into the kitchen and subsequently the freezer - ironic considering where you lived - to drop off the fish before waltzing into the living room. You plopped down in the couch, first removing Ajax’s coat and then your own.
The two on your legs let go and smiled up at you, the man and woman - Ajax’s mom and dad - walked over a gave you smile, a hand landing on your shoulder.
Your smile widened.
Archons you fucking loved your family.
⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆
Archons you fucking hated these enemies.
These fuckers from Natlan were resistant little fuckers. You chop off a hand and they’d still keep fighting.
You were growing annoyed after hours of fighting, blood drenching your uniform and absolutely caking your hair, something you knew would be a bitch to get out from experience.
Your right hand of the time, a Natlander by the name of Eztil, was beside you through the whole fight. He wielded large war hammer made of various precious metals and stones, as well as prettified wood; it swung through the skies, heating up the air as his Pyro vision burned bright. Much like you, his battle-hungry smile was long gone, replaced by annoyance as he squished another enemy beneath his hammer, blood spraying across his already bloody face.
“UGH! I’m getting bored nouehuepo*!! When are we going to be finished?? I am growing hungry and wish to challenge you to another eating contest after this!!” He shouted, completely ignoring the man running at him with a knife, whom was taken down by another Fatui member.
“I do not know приятель*. But let us continue until no other man stands but us!” And with that, you both continued swinging. You with your fists, sickles and hammers, him with his war hammer and bursts of flame.
Your movements were in sync, almost like a dance as you ravaged the battle field. You had each others back, making you both the most dangerous force on the battlefield.
If only it could’ve stayed that way.
It was a second. A second to look back at your friend to make a mental check.
Then you felt a searing sensation on the side of your face not looking at him. Eyes quickly looking back, a knife was embedded in your skin and a man had his foot on your chest. He smirked, then dragged the burning hot knife up, towards your eye, but before you could fully react.
Everything went white in that eye, then black.
Then, the most searing, burning, awful sensation you had ever felt.
Your scream silenced the battlefield as you bat the man away with the knife still embedded in your flesh, his body skipping across the land like a stone on a lake. Eztil’s eyes landed on you, which was just enough time for another attack.
“EZTIL!!!” You screamed.
…
A sword embedded itself through his chest. Both your eyes widened as your hand left the knife in your eye, reaching out to your now falling comrade.
You refused to cry, because he’d live.
That’s what you said to yourself as you rushed over to him, not minding your injury.
“Eztil, don’t you DARE fucking close your eyes, do you understand me?!?” Blood bubbles from his lips as his breathing slowed. A tear slipped from his eye as one of his hands pressed against your cheek.
“Nouehuepo… take it.” He whispered. Your gaze became confused as you stared at the dying man.
“What..?-“ “My vision. Take it. She shall be of service to… y-you.” He let out a harsh cough, his blood not staining your skin, making you flinch.
“No. It is yours приятель, I could never-“ “It is my last wish. Y-you wouldn’t deny a d-dying man his last wi-sh, would you?” You sighed, smiling at him.
“I don’t want you to die of enemy hands, so would you allow me to do the honors?” His grin widened, a glint in his eyes as he laughed, which quickly turned to hacking up his lungs.
“O-of co-urse!!” He smiled, and you smiled as well. Your hand flew up to the knife in your eye, and tore it out, not caring for the fountain of blood that squelched out. You also didn’t mind the large flap of skin that fell from your cheek, revealing the musculature of your face and your gums and teeth.
“Goodbye, my friend. May you find many fights in the afterlife to satisfy your bloodlust.” He grabbed your hand with the widest smile you’d ever seen in him.
“And ma-y I see you I-in that place!” Your hand came down onto his head, knife imbedding itself into his skull. Then, you raised your arm and planted the knife tainted with you and his blood now into his chest, striking his heart head on.
The light died from his eyes and his vision, but you quickly picked up the small red jewel which had been attached to his hair. Wiping it off, you leaned back and held your hand forward, before slamming the damned thing into your eye.
The battlefield suddenly felt as though it was atop a volcano itself, the air heating up and ash seemingly falling from the sky. You gripped your friend’s weapon, testing it in your hand and grip, swinging it slightly. Your hands pressed to your waist and your hand tilted to the sky, and finally, you laughed.
Your laughter shook the world, men falling in their asses as you showcased your joy. the air grew even hotter as the vision grew even brighter. Your entire body shook as the ear hammer in your hand heated up to a point where the metals were turning white in heat, though they didn’t melt.
You turned to your men, a wide smile on your face and tears, one trail of water and one of blood, streamed from your eyes.
“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR MEN?!? LET US FIGHT UNTIL ONLY WE REMAIN!! CHARRGGEEE!!!!”
You continued to laugh as you knocked down tens of hundreds of soldiers in one swipe, the sky nearly turning red at the mere sight of your bloodlust and rage.
That night would go down in history. The night the sky cried blood, the fall of a nation of soldiers, the day Natlan would forever regret.
‘The Night Man became a God”
⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆
You stared at the bloodied Tartaglia- no. You stared at your grandson, Ajax’s bloodied form.
He only looked back at you.
“Well, Дедушка? Have I become a God?”
Holy shit this sucked the shit outta me-
This ain’t the best but I hope you enjoyed might go back and make another of these lmao-
Дедушка - Grandfather
ГРАНДФАТЕР - GRANDFATHER
Большой хищник Севера - The Great Predator of the North
МАЛЕНЬКИЙ ОДИН - LITTLE ONE
nouehuepo - my friend
приятель - buddy
#male reader#x male reader#Genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x y/n#male y/n#platonic#family#Childe!Grandpa!Reader
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
imagine the parallel universe where andrew robinson Didn’t have taste. like he looked at his new co-worker and simply said “hi nice to meet you :)”, and played garak with zero intentions of devouring the twink infront of him. i for one am sad for that universe
#star trek#ds9#elim garak#andrew robinson#garashir#like think abt it#one of the most popular ships in star trek#only happened because one brave man had a Vision#trying to picture how garak would be if he Wasn't trying to suck n fuck and it's impossible lmao#deep space nine#st ds9
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
A little thing based on this post because it wouldn’t leave my brain:
“I just don’t understand why you won’t try to read it.”
Steve had heard Dustin say this exact sentence hundreds of times at this point.
“I mean, do you know how to read?”
Mike was an asshole. Steve loved him because he was part of the group and he’d been through the same things, but he was such a dick.
“Yes, I know how to read. I just don’t.”
Dustin rolled his eyes.
“If you don’t wanna read nerd shit just say so.”
Steve threw his arms up in frustration.
Steve was a nerd at heart. As a child, he would beg the nanny to take him to the library and the science museum that had real dinosaur fossils. There was something about the peace of exiting his reality and finding a new one among fantasy and history that was indescribable, even to this day.
But as he grew into his looks, he grew out of that phase. At least around others.
And with no nanny around to take him places, he settled for just being the popular guy who hung out with his friends after practice and threw parties at his forever empty house on Saturdays.
But secretly, he still found himself enjoying books late into the night. Never school books, or his grades would’ve been good enough for college, but always incredible novels that took him to other worlds with the most impressively brave people.
And then he lived a nightmare. A few times over. With concussions at every turn.
Now, anytime he tried to read, his head started pounding, his vision got blurry, and ears would start ringing. He stopped trying altogether after Starcourt, but he’d never really let go his love of books.
He occasionally let Robin read to him, but she would get distracted by a plot or character and go on a tangent, leaving Steve confused about what the actual story was. He hated being confused.
“Stevie, you got a minute?”
Eddie had been watching from his spot at the end of the table, where he’d been cleaning up the mess of D&D. He usually made the kids do it, but he’d let them off the hook tonight when they beat the monster and escaped his trap.
Steve and Eddie were friends, definitely. Maybe not close ones, but friends.
Steve had a little crush, definitely. Or a big one. Maybe.
So when Eddie shows him attention, he somewhat shamefully receives it like he’s dying of thirst in a desert.
Robin is the only one who’s noticed so far, but if he keeps acting like a dog being called by his master anytime Eddie talks to him, someone else will comment on it.
“Yeah, what’s up?” Steve asked as he made his way to Eddie.
The kids took this time to talk amongst themselves about the game and what they think will happen next week, and Steve couldn’t have been more grateful.
“You don’t have to tell me, but.” Eddie was tapping his fingers nervously against his leg. “Do you not know how to read?”
“Uh. No I do. I mean I graduated high school. I know it’s hard to believe.”
“Not judging if you can’t, man. I mean, I took three senior years. I’m the last person who can judge.”
“Yeah, but you’re smart. You just didn’t like school,” Steve replied with a pat to his shoulder.
Eddie glanced down at the contact, eyebrow raising and then falling back to normal quickly.
“Just seems like you’d have read something by now to get them off your ass.”
And that’s a really good point. Maybe he should’ve just suffered through a migraine so they’d leave him alone about it.
But migraines left him out for days sometimes, and he couldn’t exactly afford that right now.
“I guess it’s just not worth the migraine.”
He hadn’t meant to actually say it. He didn’t want Eddie to feel bad or for him to try to make him feel better about it or ask questions or talk about the concussion thing.
Actually, did he even know about the concussion thing? Things?
“You get migraines when you try to read?” Then realization hit Eddie hard. “Steve. Do you like reading?”
Something about the way Eddie was looking at him, like he was sad for him but not pitying him, made Steve want to cry.
“I used to, yeah.”
“Everyone out! Your parents are gonna have to come get you! No questions, no explanations, go!” Eddie yelled to the room.
Everyone stared blankly at him before they started protesting, Dustin loudest of all.
“Steve’s my ride!”
“Not anymore. Hitch a ride with Lucas.”
“But Lucas’ mom always squeezes my cheeks and tells me she hopes I never lose my baby fat.”
“She speaks for all of us. Get the hell out of here!”
Steve was actually impressed. Maybe a little turned on? God, he was a disaster.
As everyone cleared out of the room, Eddie patted the seat next to him. When Steve sat down, Eddie scooted his chair so close to him, his knees were touching Steve’s.
“Alright, so you’re gonna tell me about what books you like and what books you want to read and we’re gonna get started.”
Steve blinked at him. “Huh?”
“You have a list I’m sure.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Okay, then we better get started.”
“I mean, I’ve tried. I appreciate it, but even focusing on one page makes my eyes burn and my head hurt.”
“Got that. I’m not asking you to read.”
Sometimes Steve was worried the concussions had actually knocked some screws loose. He wasn’t getting it.
“I’m gonna read to you, Stevie.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure a lot of them will be movies and I can just watch them.”
“It’s not the same. You know it’s not.”
He was right. Steve didn’t have much patience for movies. And sometimes even those gave him migraines if there were a lot of bright lights and explosions.
“Yeah. But still. You don’t have to do that. You might not even like the books.”
“Ah, this isn’t a completely free service, my liege.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “I don’t have extra money to pay you, dude.”
“Not money. I get to pick a book to read to you when we finish the first book you pick.”
“Is it The Hobbit?”
“It is,” Eddie looked so smug.
“Well, that was my first choice,” Steve stared back, equally as smug.
“So, your house is empty.”
“Yep.”
“And I’m assuming you own this book.”
“I do.”
“And it’s getting late.”
Steve looked out the window at the pitch black skies.
“It’s late.”
“So I could stay and read you to sleep.”
“Won’t I miss some of the book?”
“I’ll stop when you’re asleep.”
Steve’s heart was practically begging him to say yes. Eddie reading to him in his bed? Possibly falling asleep together? Maybe even waking up together? It couldn’t be a better proposition. Well. It could.
“Will you stay even if I fall asleep?”
Eddie smirked. “If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d called Steve that, but it was the first time it felt like he meant it in a non-teasing way.
“Okay.”
So they both changed into some of Steve’s comfy clothes, got into his bed, and Eddie started reading The Hobbit.
Just as he was during D&D and real life, Eddie was animated, providing different voices for different characters and often giving long pauses to let Steve soak in what the words meant.
Steve didn’t even have to ask him to do that. He just did.
Steve fell asleep somewhere between halfway and the end of chapter two, but Eddie stayed.
And they woke up the next day with Steve’s head resting on Eddie’s chest, Eddie’s arms wrapped around him to keep him as close as possible.
They finished the The Hobbit in a week, and because Eddie was now committed to making sure Steve was well-read, they started moving through his list rapidly, falling for each other in new ways every time Eddie turned a page.
Part 2 (Angst) / Part 2 (Fluffy) / Part 2 (Explicit)
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#tumblr drabbles#ao3fic#headcanon#secret nerd Steve Harrington
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
12 YEARS LATER|S.O BLACK
Author’s note; will definitely be a part 2 to this.
Pairing; Young/POA!Sirius Black x Fem!wife!reader
Summary; 12 years after having your life ripped to pieces your godson walks into your home after returning home from Hogwarts and he’s invited someone else to come as well.
Warnings; Angst? Fluff.
HP/Marauders Master List
You had tried keeping him out in the beginning, your heart would not be able to bear the pain that a playboy could cause. You had told him so, there would be no chance of you two ever happening, never thinking his womanising personality would change, especially not for someone like you.
But if Sirius Black was anything he was unrelenting, he was determined and genuine in his advances and soon you found your heart fluttering with each sparkling smile and cheeky wink he sent your way.
Each touch would send a spark of electricity shooting through your veins and each lingering stare would burn into your skin, each a reminder of him even when you were apart.
You were sixteen when the pair of you became official, a third of your way through your sixth year of Hogwarts and the pair of you were wrapped up in coats and scarfs, adorned with a heating charm to protect you both from the cool February air at the top of the Astronomy tower.
Who knew Sirius Orion Black could be a romantic?
In that moment as he held you under the night sky, holding your hand as he raised them both into the sky, directing you to where his namesake lay, how could you have said anything but yes to him.
You had spent the best years of your life with him, moving in together at seventeen, engaged at eighteen, married at nineteen, godparents at twenty and well, twenty one had left you and your godson alone.
All Hallows’ Eve of 1981 is a day you never want to remember but it’s a day that remains as a permanent scar on your brain.
Your closest friends had lost their lives, their son had lost their parents, Remus had disappeared without a trace, Peter was dead and your Sirius had been taken to Azkaban.
You didn’t have time to grieve, you had a child to raise and offer him the best life you could and you did.
You watched him adjust to walking by himself, learn how to confess his wants and needs with more than just childish babbles and each day you’d witness as he showed more and more qualities of his parents.
Not only did he share most of his features with James Potter but he also shared his father’s cheeky personality and charisma.
However, the times where you saw Lily in him shined bright; when he’d offer to share any treat with you or when he’d climb into your bed to protect you from the monsters (you knew it was for his own comfort but it still melted your heart).
Now, that little boy was a young man and whilst it was becoming common for him to give you near heart attacks, you couldn’t be more proud of how intelligent and brave he was.
You truly saw his maturity earlier in the year when you’d had to sit him down and tell him the news of Sirius Black, that his godfather had escaped the prison he was put into for the betrayal of James and Lily Potter.
He had been hurt, you had seen that but he had handled it with grace and was more concerned about how you felt than the possible danger he was in, because you were the most important person in his life.
It was now the end of June, you had allowed Harry to make his own way home from Platform nine and three quarters upon his own request, believing he was now old enough to have that extra freedom.
It left you at home to make his favourite meal for when he gets home alone with his favourite snacks, movie and blankets set up in the living room for a movie night after dinner.
It was around five in the evening when you heard the front door being thrown open followed by the dumping of his bags and trunk being dumped on the floor.
Then heavy footsteps pounded through the hallway, shortly followed by your vision being clouded by a mess of jet black hair as Harry launched himself into your arms.
"Merlin, Harry! You’re going to break one of my ribs if you keep growing," you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him, he was growing far too quickly for your liking.
"I had the best year ever, Y/N!" He told you as he pulled out of your arms. "I think I passed all of my tests except divination but that’s a load of rubbish anyways, Hogsmeade was so much fun and Professor Lupin was actually a good teacher- oh, he told me to tell you he misses you by the way and that he’s sorry for leaving."
You smiled tightly, Harry had told you in his first letter about ‘Professor Lupin’ and whilst you were glad he had a good teacher, it was hard to ignore the pain that came with his name, he had left you and Harry alone in a time where you should’ve been able to rely on each other, you weren’t ready to see him or speak to him again.
"I’m glad you had a good year, Harry," you replied sincerely, turning back to watch the food as he continued speaking.
"Oh, and I met Sirius Black! He’s innocent so don’t worry about it, he’s actually amazing!"
You whipped your head around as the colour drained from your face. "You what?"
Harry couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he nodded "you’ll never believe it, I didn’t believe it in the beginning either but Sirius wasn’t mum and dad’s secret keeper, it was Peter Pettigrew that was secretly working for Voldemort and after my parents were murdered Sirius went to confront him but Pettigrew framed him, chopped off his finger and turned into a rat; can you believe he’s an Animagus!?"
He didn’t seem to realise how you weren’t matching his enthusiasm or how pale you’d gotten.
"Did you know Sirius could turn into a dog?"
"Harry…" you ignored his question. "You’ve seen Sirius? You’ve spoken to him?"
"Yeah!" He replied enthusiastically, not paying attention to the tone of your voice. "I wanted to talk to you about that actually, can he come and stay with us? I assumed it would be okay because the two of you are married and I thought we could be a proper family then."
You couldn’t even process what he was saying, it was as though you had completely disassociated, how could you even fathom seeing Sirius again?
The man you had loved and married all of those years ago, you hadn’t seen him in twelve years, you were two completely different people right now. He had been through unfathomable hell, hell that you couldn’t even begun to imagine and you had changed beyond belief, for Harry to believe you could just start over and pretend nothing happened was ridiculous.
And if Sirius believed that too then he was completely mad if not plain stupid.
A scratching at the door drew both your’s and Harry’s attention and the way his eyes lit up made you feel sick to your stomach. "Harry," you spoke faintly, "what is that?"
Harry titled his head at you curiously, "Well I told him where we lived so he could come and visit me, he was glad you hadn’t moved and well he wanted to see you as well."
You slowly shook your head, feeling completely overwhelmed at everything that had just been shot at you in such a small amount of time. "No no no no no, he can’t be here," you muttered frantically.
"What do you mean?" Your godson asked dumbly.
"I mean that he can’t just show up here out of the blue with absolutely no warning, we can’t just pretend that the past twelve years haven’t happened, Harry. It doesn’t work like that. We’ve both changed and we aren’t going to go back to being husband and wife. I’m happy you have your godfather back, Harry, I truly am but you need to give me some warning for this."
Harry slumped in his seat at the kitchen table. "What, so I tell him to leave? We have so much to catch up on."
The disappointed look on his face made your heart break, you had always struggled saying no to him and had probably spoilt him more than you should have but knowing that the man you had loved more than anything was on the opposite side of the door filled you with a sense of dread.
But how could you take this away from him?
You couldn’t, it was as simple as that.
You’d face your husband for the first time in over a decade if that made Harry happy because that’s all you had lived for the past twelve years, making your godson happy.
"Go and open the door," you regretfully nodded your head towards the front door, joy built up in Harry’s face as he jumped up and rushed for the front door whilst you simply stood alone in the kitchen waiting for your past to come and hit you in the face.
What were you even going to say to him?
#sirius orion black#sirius black#sirius black x reader#fluff#angst#angst with a happy ending#marauders era#moony wormtail padfoot and prongs#marauders#sirius black x you#sirius black x y/n#padfoot#padfoot x reader#snuffles#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#hp
639 notes
·
View notes
Text
"I'm supposed to protect you."
knight!ellie x princess!reader
warnings: angst, readers mom is reaallyyy annoying (my mommy issues speaking up), being forced to get married (typical for those times), hidden/not tolerated relationship kinda, execution and bad english cuz its my second language sorry bear w me😮💨😮💨
writers note: wait .. im actuslly surprisingly proud of this one ?? this was supposed to be a lil 1k special because its the first long one shot im posting i think ..anyways enjoy pookies<3<3
'understand that when you leave here
you'll be clear among the better man'
≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫
you looked at the prince from across the table. you tried to find something—anything that'd remind you of her, so your agony will stop, or at least decrease. but even his green eyes, the same color as hers, weren't looking at you with such admiration. his sword was just as shiny, sharp and impressive, but it wasn't made to protect you. and his words, oh his words... they were smart and stern, slightly softening when speaking to you - his soon to be wife - but they were meaningless compared to hers.
you knew that's what awaits you, you were preparing for this moment since the day you were born, but this fact didn't make it any better - any easier to accept.
you peeked a last glance at him - the prince, considered being the most handsome out of all principalities. but he was also the love of your life, against your own will, and that made your body fill with disgust. your face heated up and your hands started shaking, so you stared down, trying to pretend you're focused on eating. the view of your plate, the not finished meal, made the nausea only worse.
you stood up, making a loud scraping noise when your chair moved on the wooden floor. everyone's eyes were on you.
your stare was shifting across the known and unknown faces for a split second, your gaze lingering for a little longer on your mother's disappointed, scolding face.
"i'm sorry." you muttered and quickly left the dining room, leaving a chord of whispering, probably gossiping voices behind you.
you felt your eyes starting to water up, single tears slowly falling down. you just pushed forward, hoping to find an empty corner in the hallways full of busy maids and other services.
"your highness?" someone asked, but you felt too overwhelmed to think who it was. eventually, the person forcefully grabbed your arm. even though the touch was soft and somehow comforting, you stopped walking and aggressively broke your hand free.
"how dare you—!" you shouted, sounding more sad than mad. whoever it was, you had to admit that touching princess like that was brave. you turned around and through your blurry from tears vision saw your knight, number one protector, staring at you in deep disbelief and concern. "i'm sorry." you murmured and quickly began making your way to your dorm again. you wiped your cheeks with your palm, not bothering to find a tissue in the pockets of your uncomfortable but pretty dress.
the footsteps won't stop - in fact, they surpassed you and their source blocked your way.
"what happened?" ellie asked, raising her arms to caress your face, but not doing it yet - not without your permission.
you grabbed her wrists and brought her hands to your face, leaning into her touch and falling apart in this exact second. she spent a moment trying to calm you down, but even her proximity wasn't enough. she started dragging you outside, before anyone could find you both like that.
she stayed quiet until you found yourself in the castle's backyard, decorated with every kind of flowers possible. it was already dark, since you spent the whole day preparing for your wedding. without a word, she lay down on the grass and patted the space next to her, motioning for you to do the same, and so you did. for a second nothing but silence comforted both of you. you looked at the stars, trying to find any constellations your teacher told you about. the last wet tears on your cheeks started to flow down, leaving only barely visible drying stains.
you thought about how ellie treats you, and how you treat her. does every princess feels so warm whenever her knight is near?
you felt embarrased at the thought, and about the current situation. you were allowed to cry. your cherries were too sweet? too sour? cry about it, blame everyone and act all hysterical because it's, obviously, the end of the world! you have every right to do that - you're the princess and everyone should risk their life if it means you will be satisfied.
no. you weren't like that. you didn't cry when you cut your palm with a kitchen knife or when the wound won't heal properly. you accepted the doctor's help and, what's unbelievable, thanked him for it. how could you be grateful to someone who isn't royal in any way? you'll never forget how mad your mother was back then.
while your gaze was on the sky, ellie's was on you. you could feel it, so you turned your head to the side - and you were right, prince's eyes were really nothing compared to hers.
she spoke up as soon as she saw she has your attention; "is it because of the stress?"
"stress?" you repeated, biting your bottom lip, almost making it bleed.
"maybe you're sick?" she put her hand on your forehead, surely trying to find an excuse to be close to you. or maybe she was really concerned? your cheeks were probably really red due to her closeness, she could misinterpret it. "are you feeling unwell, your highness?"
you looked away, trying to brush your flushness away by getting lost in the moonlight. the full moon was approaching, and you tried to guess how many days are there left. maybe four?
ellie's hand slowly slid down your face, stopping on your chin, before slowly leaving your body. "you should be excited." she stated, but her tone made it sound like she was ranting about it. maybe you're not the only one who's not happy about the situation.
"well, i'm not." you shrugged, trying to sound as emotionless as possible, though it probably made your discomfort even clearer. your eyes wandered around the sky and you raised your hand, pointing at seven stars. "look, big dipper."
she took a moment to find the constellation, before slowly and firmly pushing your arm down. "i need to know what's wrong." she sighed, her worried eyes begging you for an answer.
an answer you couldn't give her, because what were you supposed to say?
"you don't." you denied in a quiet tone.
"please," she continued, stubbornly not giving up, "i'm supposed to protect you."
another sigh, this time yours. you stayed silent for a moment, before spotting different stars creating a familiar shape. before your hand could fully raise, ellie held it down. in any other circumstances, she would get roughly punished for treating you like that. she was lucky you wanted to be treated like that - like a normal human, and not a piece of delicate glass.
"i don't want him." you finally admitted, rolling onto your side to look at her. "he doesn't want me, either."
she scanned your expression, her own seeming deadly serious. you looked down and saw some smudges of dirt on your dress, hoping your mother won't notice them.
she frowned a little, knitting her eyebrows together. "i'm sure he does."
"then he's bad at showing it." you muttered and saw her confusion deepen. "why would you bring me here?" you looked around and took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of flowers. their colorfulness was visible even despite the late, dark time, standing out above the solid green grass.
she thought about your question for a quite long time, not sure is it tricky or rhetorical. "i like this place." she finally spoke up, her lips turning into a soft smile.
"no, i'm asking..." you shook your head, fixing your rolled down sleeves. "why would you bring me here?"
this wasn't a question she expected. even you weren't planning it and now you regretted pushing this subject. what answer did you expect? no matter what would it be, you still wouldn't be satisfied.
"it's important to me." she tugged a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, before caressing your cheek. "and so are you." you stared at her lips as she spoke, admiring how soft they look even though the words leaving them were serious and important. as soon as she finished, your gaze shifted back to her eyes.
"i think—" you gulped, feeling the meaning behind her phrase weigh on you. "i think this is something i need to hear from the prince. from my—" husband. say it. the voice in your head tried to convince you it's not a bad word, but it just felt so wrong. you felt like you're close to breaking down everytime you remembered you're his wife. well, you'll be tomorrow.
"i mean what i said, your highness." her thumb traced the outline of your lips, as her own uncontrollably parted. your body trembled and your eyes closed shut for a while. before you opened them, you heard her body shifting and soon, you felt her lips on yours.
the kiss confirmed your belief that she is soft, but she was even softer than you imagined. her fingers glided across your face, gently stroking it and moving your hair out of the way. her body fit so perfectly into yours, like she was made for you, and you were made for her. you felt something strange in your stomach, like you just got rid of a knot inside it, though you didn't even know it was there in the first place. the time was fleeting but you managed to remember every little detail, so when she pulled away you let out a satisfied sigh.
"i'll miss you, ellie." ugh, addressing to a knight by their name in such a soft voice- if only your mother was there. but it was only you two, surrounded by the beautiful scent of flowers and stars which seemed to be hanging right above your heads.
she smiled, though there was a hint of surprise, maybe confusion, in her expression. "i'm not going anywhere."
"but once i'm married, i'll leave with the prince." you stammered, your eyes suddenly glistening. her own became glossy, like they were covered in a thin mirror glass which perfectly reflected the moonlight. "i have to." you added after a moment, making sure she knows it wasn't your choice.
"i—" she started but didn't make a second attempt to speak after her voice drifted off once. she rolled onto her back and looked at the sky. "this is your home, your highness. you can't leave." she seemed to plead you to stay, and god, how much you wanted to...
"i'm scared." you admitted, your gaze desperately lingering on her, as if she'll disappear once you look away.
"of him?" she inquired as her hand found yours and gently rested on it.
your arm tensed at her sudden touch, but your whole body relaxed as soon as her thumb started stroking your palm. deep breath. "of living without you." you whispered, ashamedly looking to the other side to avoid her. you felt her squeezing your hand, and your grip on her also tightened. you started silently begging for the ability to stay like that forever, even if it meant you will spent the eternity in silence and with teary eyes. it would be the best reward you could ask for, a dream coming true.
──────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────
the first thing you felt after finally coming to your senses was your mother fastening the corset, tightening it to the point your breath hitched. an hour of scolding for you leaving the dinner passed and now she went back to her stern, rough, but at least not mad facade. you weren't listening to whatever she was saying, thinking about how did you end up in your bed this morning. did you came here by yourself and you just don't remember? or maybe you fell asleep, ellie carried you here and tucked you in bed? at just this single idea of her, your mind wandered to the previous late evening. you felt overwhelmed by the memory of her words and, most importantly, her kiss. your breath got heavier, the corset not making it any easier to stay calm. your body started suddenly sweating, as if a wave of heat just washed over you.
"mother— i'm in love." you blurted out, before you could think of the consequences. you just had to get that off your chest.
"well, that's good." you saw a small smile creating on her lips. you finally received a human-like kindness from her, probably for the first time in years. "i hope you won't change your mind before the wedding."
your worry quickly turned into confusion and, eventually, the same disgust as yesterday. "i'm not talking about the prince!" you paused and looked down, not wanting to drag the topic but, at the same time, not able to stop it. "it's one of the knights." you really weren't controlling the words coming out of your mouth and that could only mean one thing - problems. "ellie."
your mother quickly spun you around and forcefully grabbed your chin. "i'm not even surprised." she hissed, making sure you know how disappointed in you she is. "but i won't tolerate that." the sharpness of her statement successfully shut you up, so you didn't argue nor pushed the topic when she went back to preparing you for the big, big day. she started acting like nothing happened and kept reminding you about how important it is. of course she only cared about her own good, or at least it felt like so, as she silenced you everytime you wanted to speak.
everyone was formally dressed, even the poorest maids found something noble. they all cutely smiled at your sight, probably impressed by your dress. the dominant color was clearly white, a sign of purity which you seemed to lack. that's what your mother made you believe, at least. but maybe she was a bit right after all? because your feelings towards ellie- oh, ellie.
you shook your head, forcing yourself to get her out of your mind. you looked at the service again, and they all immediately flashed you a smile as if on command. you reciprocated the gesture, though you could guess what was really on the women's mind. they hated you. they hated the ungrateful princess which would pick a knight over a prince. your obvious dissatisfaction, even without knowing the real reason behind it, seemed stupid. if only you could swap your places with one of them— not only you'd make her happy, but you and ellie could... oh, so you're thinking of ellie again.
you tried to move your veil so it'd cover the tears in your eyes, but there was always someone who'll fix it for you, not knowing you're doing it intentionally. you felt weak. physically and, mostly, mentally. because your knees, which barely held you up, which felt so light compared to the rest of your body as if they were made of cotton wool, everything above could be explained. by stress. but the intangible weakness was way worse. the prince seemed really nice and wasn't too old, you could get along well. but your heart was already taken by...
you turned around and your gaze wandered across the benches - you saw your family on the one side, his on the other, and a row of services against the wall. you could only think about one thing. where's ellie?
the question intrigued you to the point you started mouthing it to yourself, imagining 'if i were her, where would i go?'. but did it matter? she could be everywhere - in her room, in the garden - the point is, she wasn't there. your mother noticed your anxiety and walked over to you, hoping she'll be able to stop you from ruining the ceremony.
"where's ellie?" you immediately asked, frowning but calming down as there was someone able to answer your question.
"ellie?" she queried with a frown on her own, though hers quickly softened. "oh, the knight. look, there's other knights—"
"but ellie..." you cut her off with a sigh. "only she can protect me." you looked at the opened, massive doors, staring at the little stairs leading to the church you were in now, hoping to see her.
"there are dozens of more experienced knights." she rolled her eyes, discretely pointing at the row. "you and your stupid whims." with that, she left you and the prince alone at the altar. you awkwardly fidgeted with your fingers. you didn't need experienced knights, you didn't need knights at all - you needed ellie. she knew you have nightmares after arguing with your mom or during full moon, and she was there for you. she helped you take off your corset when you were alone, because she knew how much you hate it. she wasn't only your protector, she was someone way more important. not your friend. she was the love of your life. and you had to realise that right before the priest started the ceremony. great.
the whole time, you just watched the doorstep through the corner of your eye. there's no way she'd miss the wedding, so you couldn't help but wonder 'what did my mother do to her?'. you knew you're being naive, but you couldn't stop yourself from it.
you weren't listening at all, but one statement caught your attention, since priest's voice got louder and more stern.
"should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."
a wave of gasps filled the room and as you looked back at the doorstep, you saw that your prayers have been answered. her hand was covered in blood, probably her own since she had it pressed against her stomach as if to stop it from bleeding. you couldn't see how badly she was hurt, since her clothes were messy and torned. she was breathless and her knees seemed to be as weak as yours, but she still managed to shout a raspy; "i object."
it caused a bitter laugh from your mother, followed by shouting at the knights to get her. they hestitated, respecting ellie as one of the best equestrians, but they had no choice. they weren't acting quick or aggresive, and she'd easily get away if she wanted to. she knew her objection won't stop anything and it'll only get her in problems, as if she doesn't have enough yet. but she also knew this was her last chance to show that she'll always, at least try to, protect you. not only from dangerous rebels, but also a non-threatening man you're forced to be with.
you grabbed your dress, slightly rolling it up so you won't stumble as you run, but someone's hands held you in place. you turned around to see the prince and, i have to add, you never really blamed him for that. he had no idea who's ellie, maybe he thought she was a bad person, considering the queen's reaction. everything would be probably even worse if you'd have the chance to intervene. you understood that, though you couldn't calm down for long after ellie was taken out anyway.
the priest looked at your mother, asking the question to which the answer intrigued everyone. "continue." she commanded in her usual firm tone. you could see her mumbling a quiet "this stupid girl won't ruin the wedding" under her breath, but it went unnoticed by everyone except you.
and so the celebration continued as if nothing happened. you stood hand in hand with a man you'll spent the rest of your life with, believing he will never love, know or even see you in the way ellie does. you knew he won't stroke your wet from sweat hair after a tough night, he won't help you dress up and, what hurt the most, he won't take you to the castle's backyard just to rest and watch the sky.
you thought about running away, but the row of ready knights who only waited for the queen's orders made you lose your hope. of course they'd probably hesitate for a moment too, giving you some time, but you still didn't stand a chance. plus, you had different things going on your mind, keeping you busy and unfocused on the ceremony. namely - what will happen to ellie?
──────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────
you saw an envelope laying on your desk, having only your name on it. you teared it apart, impatiently wanting to get the paper out. you knew who's it from right after reading the first two words - not only because of ellie's handwriting, but also the way she addressed to you; 'my princess.' my princess.
believe me, all too aware am i of what i did. a lot happened behind your back but it is not a topic we should discuss like that. my friend took care of me, and even with the cold taking my body over i am just proud i am still alive, with the chance to write to you. i did something reckless but i believe it was caused by love. luccy says the same, we both think the thought of you controlled me. i could never forgive myself if i didn't see you in that dress. i think this is how i will forever remember you - dressed in white, looking so pure and angelic. i won't waste the ink for trying to compare you to anything, because i will miserably fail. nothing can be compared to you.
how does being married feel? i think you were unnecessarily scared. besides my little antic, it went smoothly. that is what i am told, at least, by the people in town. the queen was wrong about them, they are much more than poor slums. well, maybe they are poor, but i am truly in love with their modest cottages. they do not need much, they are happy with what they are given, and there is something magical about it. i think i would want to live like that. with you warming the other side of our bed. we don't need anyone else, i am sure we would enjoy life on our own.
the wound on my stomach seems to heal correctly. luccy thinks it will leave a scar, but i have some already, so what is one more? our biggest problem is food, because my friend gets a portion which is only enough for her. your mother took my money and weapon, the injury makes me useless anyway. to make matters worse, i have to stay in hiding. i haven't seen the sky since your wedding. oh, the things i would do to see big dipper again. i am not sure how it looks anymore, i have to admit i wasn't paying much attention. i apologize, but in my defense, my focus was on you. you are more interesting than any constellations.
i hope your poesy ring is pretty, at least. i want you to rememeber that you will always be in my heart and a simple ring other man gave you won't change it. maybe he did claim you, but i see you as mine anyway. my princess.
the letter wasn't signed, maybe to avoid any problems if someone else found it, but you were sure who's job is it. you quickly took a piece of paper for yourself to write, but you remembered the envelope didn't contain her address. you were left alone, your only hope was praying you'll get more messages from her. you could try to find her, ask the town residents, but they'd quickly start gossiping.
you looked down - at your promise ring. you couldn't deny that it was perfect and most definitely woth a lot, an ordinary resident of your kingdom could probably afford a food supply for the rest of their life with it. it was way too loose, so you started rolling it around your finger, deep in thought.
──────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────
your mother pushed you forward, motioning you towards the gate. you saw a young woman led by a pair of knights, just another prisoner. she intensively stared at you and you wanted to ran up to her, no matter how suspicious it'd be. she just seemed so... familiar.
you slowed down, much to your mother's displeasure. "where are we even going?" you inquired, glancing at the carriage. days passed and you should be in prince's castle by now. yet, his visit kept getting longer.
"surprise." she murmured, her tone sucking every remaining bit of happiness inside of you.
you looked back at the woman, getting further and further away from you with each step. you hestitated between obeying your mother or trusting your intuition. the second option prevailed as soon as you saw, or at least could swear that you saw her mouthing ellie's name. you ran up to her, ignoring the queen's shouting at you to go back. the knights ignored you, holding the prisoner's wrists behind her back. you had to walk backwards in order to be able to look at her face. your dress made it hard, but you had to find out what's going on.
"ellie." the woman spoke up, her voice was weak but not from sadness, it sounded more as if she lost it due to screaming for too long. "i'm sorry, your highness. i couldn't protect her—"
"you tried." you cut her off, trying to sound reassuring. "where is she?"
luccy bit her lip and looked down. you wanted to push the topic, but as you turned around to see if you have any obstacles on the way, you saw you're already near the basement - were prisoners were usually located. without thinking, you took your ring off and put it in her pocket. maybe she'll be able to bribe the knights, and even if not, she'll definitely need it more than you.
as you went back to your mother, her yelling wasn't getting to you. you didn't pay attention to anything she said and once she finished, you whispered a quiet; "where are we going?" again. she, obviously, got even more mad at you for ignoring her. the whole ride passed rather quickly, as you relaxed to the melody of your mother rambling about how much of a disappointment you are.
when you arrived to an open area, full of people of all social degree, you felt a knot in your stomach. your whole body was either hurting or weak. you didn't see what are the residents watching, but only big events get so much viewers. you left your mother behind, though this time she didn't try to stop you with her worthless shouting as you made your way through the crowd. you probably hurt a lot of people while doing so, but it was worth it, as you were now standing in the first row, right in front of the... oh. gallows.
a wave of nausea and tears washed over you and you had to hold yourself up by an unknown man's arm. he didn't complain - everyone here knew who are you and they didn't want to end up being the executed ones. as you calmed down, you looked up to see ellie, seeming fearless or even proud. her chin was bruised but raised, showing how unfazed she felt. maybe she was only pretending, who knows, at least she was a good actress.
you screamed out her name, your voice breaking and trembling, as you swallowed your own tears which flowed down your face. she was surprised to see you so close to the gallows without anyone protecting you. her unbothered facade drifted away, and she mouthed "go!" or "don't look!" towards you, wanting to spare you the view. but you couldn't look away, you had to enjoy her green eyes until they were opened, and freckled skin until the blood was flowing beneath it, honoring her with a slight blush. she bit her bottom lip, just like luccy did not long ago, and broke the eye contact. unlike you, she couldn't stand the view of her love. not in those circumstances.
you saw your mother standing outside of the crowd, closer to the gallows than anyone else. she scanned the faces of the already dead people, and you wondered what did they do to deserve this. then, she gestured for some formally dressed men to start. as the noose wrapped around ellie's neck, you screamed again, this time taking action. or, well, trying to, since the crowd held you back, forcing you to not leave them. queen's commands. you cussed them out, trying to break free with all the strength you had.
"any last words?" your mother tauntingly asked, pacing back and forth.
ellie cleared her throat, before looking at you, what only gave you energy and motivation in trying to pull away. "if that's the price of love, then so be it" she was speaking slowly and clearly, making sure these words will be remembered by the community. "i am supposed to protect our only princess, so i'm more than happy to die knowing i did everything i could to—"
"oh, enough!" the queen hissed. "how dare you talk about love!" the way she snapped felt personal, so you almost forgot hundreds of people watch it too. with that, you also failed to remember that they're holding you, so you stopped fighting back and just hopelessly watched the scene.
"what else do we have to talk about?" ellie bitterly laughed, her voice a mix of amusement and hatred. the noose around her neck didn't seem to bother her. she was just so strong and- god, how much you admired this woman.
your mother turned around, waving her hand at the men responsible for the whole ceremony. you screamed again, though this time it wasn't her name. it was a weak but loud scream of protest, the one that tired you to the point you fell down on your knees, violently sobbing as the trapdoor opened.
✧˖°
endings;
the witch hunt
the loop
the connection
#Spotify#reqs open#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams x you#ellie x reader#ellie x y/n#ellie tlou#ellie the last of us#knight!ellie williams x reader#knight!ellie williams#knight!ellie x reader#knight!ellie#knight!ellie williams x princess!reader#knight!ellie x princess!reader#princess!reader#ellie williams imagine#angst#lesbian#wlw post#wlw love#wlw#ellie angst#ellie williams angst
559 notes
·
View notes
Text
In the Light of Care
The Aftermath of In The Shadow Of the Study. Aesop Sharp finds the new fifth-year half unconscious in the Slytherin dungeons following an adventure gone wrong.
Shout out to my ever-fabulous partner in crime @tea-withjamandbread
I have a love-hate relationship with Sebastian, on one hand, I love him, on the other, he is an irresponsible blinded hot-headed dumbass.
And then I have a love-love relationship with Aesop, who despite knowing you are going to give him a heart attack one of these days is never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you.
In the Light of Care (5.7k words)
tw: descriptions of pain, vomiting
You felt godawful all over. Ominis and Sebastian left you alone a while ago. You put up a brave face for them, but truth be told, you've never felt this terrible before. Your vision was blurry and all of your muscles were still cramping up with a pain that burned so much, you were certain it was burning your veins, dissolving you from the inside like acid. It was only when you were alone in that blasted corridor that you allowed yourself to fall down onto your bum, tears escaping your eyes and falling down freely. You tried to stretch as if that would help. You felt your body was inflamed, fever settling into your skin. You were sweating like mad and it took everything within you not to scream, not to sob, not to let your dinner travel up from your stomach and out of your mouth.
You were glad not to have learned the Cruciatus curse when Sebastian offered to teach you. However, you supposed, that even if you had learnt it, you would never ever use it. Even though the poachers, the goblins, and the dark wizards you've often engaged in combat were absolute scum, nobody deserved to have this cast on them. It was terribly unfair, terribly cruel. This wasn't offence-defence, it wasn't about prowess, or skill, or just plain luck. It was terror. There wasn't a right side of the wand to be on when it came to this. Both sides were horrible.
You curled in onto yourself. Even after you broke down and onto your knees before the boys, Sebastian seemed to disregard it, being only interested in that blasted scriptorium. He was your friend and you loved him, but at that moment... At that moment you hated him, at that moment he was your tormentor. And he didn't even feel bad about it. You wanted to shake his stupid head, to scream at him, to tell him that he was going to find nothing in the scriptorium but more dark magic, more pain. Salazar Slytherin was a vain and cruel man, why on earth would he have made a cure for something, when it was only agony he wanted to create? It was pointless, and foolish and dangerous to have come here and you regretted it dearly as you tried to bury your pain, keep your tears contained.
Yet, at the same time, you were glad that you went with them. Because if you hadn't, either Ominis or Sebastian would be forced to cast the curse on one another. And Ominis wouldn't, you knew now. And Merlin knows what would've happened to their friendship then if Ominis' best friend cast that curse on him, the very curse because of which he now had no family. So you chose to power through it, you put up a brave face.
It almost crumbled immediately after. Sebastian looked like a child on Christmas, looking at everything in the scriptorium, while you were still cowering on the floor. A warm hand landed on your shoulder. On any other occasion, you might have welcomed it, but now the hand burned you, made the already aching muscles hurt even more, and you winced. "Are you alright?" Ominis asked, sounding just as close to crying as you were. And though you were still in agony, you did what felt like an Herculean feat, and put your own hand on top of his and squeezed. "Alright," you said simply. You really should stop lying to your friends.
You felt horrible for making Ominis go through this. When he asked the two of you to swear to never ever engage with dark magic after that endeavour was done, you agreed with him wholeheartedly. Mentally, that is, as you couldn't speak by then. You knew you had to apologise to him later, make it up to him.
You wondered who would lose first, your consciousness or your stomach. What were you to do? You didn't bring any Wiggenweld potion with you, because you didn't think you might need it. You envied the boys now for being Slytherins, the comfort of their common room so close, while yours was so many flights of stairs away. There was no way you'd be able to crawl all the way there. There was no way you'd be able to crawl anywhere, not Ravenclaw Tower, not the Room of Requirement, not the Hospital wing. Now that you thought of it, you really shouldn't go to the Hospital wing anyway, the questions Nurse Blainey would have would only get yourself and your friends in more trouble.
As you sat and thought, your stomach finally lost its battle. You keeled over and promptly emptied your stomach on the stony floor. You felt the bile burn your throat, your eyes were losing focus. A voice came from somewhere far away. Annoyed at first, but as it got closer, you heard genuine concern. You were dry-heaving when a hand - larger than Ominis' - grasped your shoulder and forced you to turn. It didn't help your nausea at the very least, but seeing as you've already vomited all of the contents of your stomach out, you thankfully didn't throw up into the potions master's face. His striking dark eyes were panicked, his jaw hard, and he was kneeling next to you, which most likely did nothing for his leg. You would've attempted to speak, but your vision got dark and it dragged you down into the abyss.
You fell in and out of consciousness for a while. At one point, you looked down, professor Sharp still at your side but something was different. The smell of vomit was gone. You looked down at your robes and they were entirely clean. So was the floor. It was dark again. You saw professor Sharp's face, the underside of it, to be exact. He looked worried to bits. You felt movement and saw the surroundings change around Sharp's head. You felt strong arms underneath your back and legs. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him you were fine, that he needn't worry for you. Everything went black again before you managed to do so. Before the darkness consumed you, you felt the prickle of his chin on your index.
You woke on a bed after, and this time you stayed awake. You weren't in the Hospital wing, that was for sure. You weren't in your dorm or the Room of Requirement either, however, and you felt rather disoriented by that. Where else would you be, where else was a cot you'd use? When your eyes began focusing once more and your brain regained control of higher functions, you actually took in your surroundings. The air was cool, chilly almost, and it felt like heaven on your still feverish skin. There were shelves around the room, and in the middle of it stood a slightly curved desk. You were in professor Sharp's office.
The door to your left opened and the man in question came into focus. "I am very cross with you," he said, though his voice lacked any actual cut. He sat on your cot, and you now noticed he had a phial in his hand. It contained some dark liquid, still bubbling and looking utterly awful. "Drink," he said as he pushed a hand under the nape of your neck and lifted your head. He brought the phial to your lips and poured it into your mouth. You wanted to resist, the potion being foul enough to cause a dangerous churn in your stomach again, but you were so tired and the professor was unyielding.
You panted heavily after you swallowed the last drop, your body trying to bring it up again, but then you began to feel... Comfort. The pain was being flushed from your body. You didn't notice when professor Sharp grabbed your hand, but you felt his thumb stroking the back of it now. You looked up at him and regretted it immediately. He looked so tired. Once more, you unknowingly reached to touch his cheek. He startled when you did, yet almost right away closed one of his hands around your own.
"You know, I often say that the students will make me go grey prematurely, but I swear, you will make me go bald before you graduate," he said humourlessly. "Either you or your dear friends, Mr Sallow and Mr Gaunt. They told me what happened. Not everything, but the main gist of it. I've half a mind to give them both detention for the rest of their time here for leaving you the way they did. I've half a mind to give you detention as well for getting your stupid self into this, for not speaking up that you're unwell," he paused, his voice quivering slightly, "so clever, the lot of you, yet so incredibly stupid.”
The professor sighed then: “Look, I think I’m really starting to think I understand who you are - a good person who’s always willing to help her friends, which is, of course, noble of you. However, someone should finally tell you that you don’t have to insert yourself into every potentially life-threatening situation for them. In fact, as a Ravenclaw, you should be, and I believe you are, clever enough to talk them out of entering such situations themselves, which is just as good.”
You wanted to tell him that quite the number of these situations you didn't expect to be as dangerous as they turned out to be, and you were literally thrust into many of them. Not to mention there were simply some things you had to do…
But you didn’t say a single word. Not only did Professor Fig specifically ask you to keep quiet about your ancient magic abilities (which were the reason you got into these situations in the first place), but you knew that if professor Sharp knew… Well, he’d most likely try to get you to stop. Something that was absolutely unthinkable.
Sharp was watching you like a hawk, obviously trying to see if he could find an answer to at least one of his no doubt plenty of questions fleetingly appearing in your eyes. The feeling of comfort the potion he gave you turned into mild dizziness again, and you felt a sudden need to sit up. The potions master seemed to have anticipated as such because he was helping you into a sitting position not a second later, his strong hands having no problem lifting your upper body up from the cot. You were glad for his help, as you honestly felt like you were suddenly made of solid lead.
"Could you kindly enlighten me as to why you mad lot would even enter such a place?" He asked after the dizzy spell went away again. You still felt exhausted, but decided it was easier to answer his questions now, especially if he let you off the hook afterwards.
"Sebastian's sister… She's ill. Well, cursed. But you probably know that sir," you rasped out, wrapping your arms around you to battle the coolness of his office. "Indeed I do," answered the professor, "truly awful what happened to her."
He actually sounded remorseful, but also appeared to have lost himself in his head a little bit: "So what, were you searching for a cure down there? I can assure you, you will find no cures to any ailments under Salazar Slytherin's name, it's not one of the things he was famous for… And unless Mungo Bohnam himself left a little scriptorium of his own here, I am afraid you won't find Miss Sallow's cure in these corridors at all."
The teacher suddenly looked ten years older than he usually looked. You didn't know just how old he was, your guess was perhaps mid-forties, but then again, this and his previous job may have caused him to age prematurely. You realised that he and Anne were in quite similar situations, and seeing as he, an adult, and an experienced former auror was not able to find a cure for his leg, he didn't give Anne too many chances either.
It was all rather horrible, you thought. You've only met Anne for a while, but she seemed like a genuinely sweet person you could see yourself being friends with. And professor Sharp? Well, he was very different from the teachers you used to have before you came to Hogwarts. In the best way possible. He was strict, like they were, but also fair. He was tough and looked like a man not to be messed with. He administered both criticism and praise where they were due, and was very honest and open about everything. You had to admit that you enjoyed both the potion class, and his extra lessons to help you catch up to your classmates.
It was a little alarming to see a man who normally radiated authority so… down.
"I think," you said after several minutes, "I think Sebastian is trying to find… the curse itself. Because when he does, finding a cure should be easier…"
"His sister was cursed by a goblin though, no? What makes you think you'd find something about goblin curses down there?"
"I don't… I don't know. I just wanted to help Sebastian."
The potions master sighed heavily, tapping his healthy foot on the stone floor, and you thought you heard him utter something about you being 'so bloody loyal, it’s a wonder you’re not a Hufflepuff.'
"And did you find anything?" He asked after a while, once more fixing you with an intense expression.
"No, not a thing, sir. Some old books and scrolls, half-eaten by rats and other vermin, some egocentric busts and statues of Slytherin himself, a goblet of something I almost drank after… after the torturing curse, because I was so thirsty, but then I realised that the cup's been sitting there for maybe 900 years at least and it might not be wise."
"See, Miss (L/N), you're learning the art of 'not dying' quickly. Indeed, you should not drink anything that's been standing in a cup for 900 years," Sharp said in a deeply sarcastic voice, and he looked like he wanted to throw his hands up in the air. He calmed himself down with several deep breaths: "And that's it?"
"That's it."
Hold on… Something was amiss. What was it? There was one book that wasn't eaten away by any creepy crawlies, wasn't there? A book…
"Are you perfectly certain?" the teacher asked once more, watching you intently.
Should you tell him about the spellbook Sebastian picked up? Did he and Ominis tell him about it? Sharp wouldn't be asking you if you found anything of interest if he knew about the spellbook, would he? It was at the tip of your tongue when you remembered:
'It’s a personal spellbook of one of the founders of Hogwarts! There’s got to be something in there that will let me reverse the curse! Anne will be cured!'
Sebastian sounded like a child on Christmas when he said that, all the while Ominis was pale as a ghost and you were trying not to tremble too much from Crucio’s pain. In the brunet’s voice was something that was just so absolutely convinced that he was right. And what is he was? What if he could really cure his sister with some counter-curse from the book? Maybe then you could also use it and help heal Sharp. What if Sharp took it away in fear that you may use the book for wrong, or that the book itself had a curse put on it?
Should you tell him?
Your mouth opened and you took a deep breath. A feeling in your chest was telling you that you were signing a deal with the devil, but the 'yes' that rolled from your lips sounded perfectly calm and sincere.
And there it was. You lied to a teacher who told you explicitly that he hated it when somebody lied to him. But you decided you were doing so out of good intentions. Like when you kept your mouth shut about ancient magic.
He sighed once more: "Alright then… I hardly think that you'd tell me if your goal was to become a dark witch, so I suppose this will have to do."
"I can assure you, sir, that's not the case," you replied weakly before you could stop yourself, "I hate those."
"Oh," Sharp asked, his interest seemingly peaked again, "meet many dark witches?" You cursed yourself inwardly, the last thing you needed was for him to probe at you even more: "I've met a few, sir. But it was enough for me to decide that I hated them…"
The professor's eyes were as sharp as his name, and you felt his gaze burning holes into you. Finally, he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, deep in thought. And then he spoke again, his voice softer this time: "What is it you're not telling me? What is it that causes the bruises and the cuts on your face I see each time you come back from 'a visit to Hogsmeade'? And do not try telling me that you crashed into a shrub or fell off your broom, this excuse can only work on me so many times…"
The professor looked genuinely concerned. He was the first professor to question your occasionally banged appearance, the only one who insisted you tell him over and over again. "Are you in any kind of trouble?" He continued, "Because if you are, just tell me, and I promise I'll do my best to help you."
You put your hands on your face.
"Why can't you tell me?"
You did not answer. You didn't even take your hands away. The office was overtaken by silence. It must have been after curfew, as you heard no sounds from the corridors beyond the potion classroom. After what felt like hours, Sharp sighed once more. "Despite what some students may say about me, I am actually not some heartless monster. I won't make you tell me by force. But please, please, Miss (L/N), can you promise me one thing?"
It took a while, but you cautiously lowered your hands to look at him. He looked tired once more, but he didn't drop his gaze from you for a single second: "If you start feeling you're in over your head, if you feel like you need help, be it anything you're dealing with, please... Come to me. Even if it's just for a phial of Skele-Gro…"
Aesop Sharp was a good man, you decided, and a minute later, you found yourself nodding your head.
"Good," he said.
"May I be dismissed, sir?"
"Dismissed? Lass, the only place you're leaving here for is the Hospital wing! And given the nature of the curse that was cast on you, and the caster, I rather think that you wouldn't like that, would you?" You grimaced. Damn. You truly did not need more attention drawn to your little adventure into Slytherin's scriptorium. Obviously having no other options, you carefully lowered yourself until you were lying down again.
"Do you need anything? Food, water, are you warm enough?" Asked the teacher then, his voice softer once more. "I'm alright, thank you, sir," you replied and closed your eyes. They were so heavy, you felt like you might not open them again.
"Sleep, Miss (L/N)."
—
When you woke up, you felt disoriented once more, and it took you a few seconds to realise where you were, and what sort of events led up to this situation. Looking around the office, illuminated by the faint morning light coming from the window behind professor Sharp’s desk, you saw the man himself sitting in his chair, sound asleep. His hands were loosely folded in his lap, his leg was propped up on a little footstool he must’ve conjured up for himself, as you’ve never seen it there before (could teachers, unlike students, conjure things in Hogwarts outside of the Room of Requirement? Most likely, how else would he have gotten your cot in here?), and his head was hanging to the side. The silence of the room was occasionally cut through by a snore from the teacher.
He looked quite a few years younger while he slept, the line between his eyebrows gone, his face relaxed and open, much softer than it normally was. You supposed he was not at all bad-looking when he wasn’t currently giving Garreth Weasley the snarl of Chimaera.
You lay there, panic slowly creeping in. Was he going to tell the Headmaster about your little adventure to the Scriptorium? Maybe professor Weasley? Fig? Has he already told them? Were you in trouble?
You shortly considered sneaking past the professor and away into your dorm. You were itching to have a nice hot bath and change into a different set of robes. You fainty remembered that Sharp cast a cleaning charm on them, yet they still felt grimy on your body, because what you remembered perfectly was the pain you went through in them. At that moment when Sebastian cast Crucio on you, it felt like your very clothes were choking and burning you, like they were covered in salt and your skin under them was scratched and cut up. You decided to burn them the first chance you got and get a new set from Mr Hill.
Once more you thought about making an attempt to leave but ultimately decided against it. The man was an ex-Auror for crying out loud, there’s no way he wouldn’t wake up if you as much as made a single step from the bed. He probably put a ward on it to alert him were you to get up. Not to mention it would solve absolutely nothing. He knew of the Scriptorium, and he knew of the Cruciatus curse. The only thing you’d achieve if you tried to sneak past him would probably be angering him.
And so you stayed put, reclining on the cot. It was quite comfortable, which was something you couldn’t appreciate much most mornings. Even when you didn’t have classes to attend, you rarely allowed yourself to indulge in sleeping in, much less just lazying around in bed after you woke up. There was always something to do, somebody to help, someone to run an errand for, a beast to rescue, a potion to brew, a plant in need of fertilising or harvesting, a hot spot of ancient magic, or a Merlin trial to solve. You were a busy woman, you didn’t have time to lie around. And yet, as you did, you had to admit that you felt more well-rested than you had in weeks.
Professor Sharp on the other hand you thought couldn’t be very comfortable. You were never able to fall asleep sitting up, even during long hours spent on the train when you and your family went for a holiday to St Ives, and the first class coupe you used had seating that was much more comfortable than his chair seemed. But then again, maybe there was some sort of cushioning charm placed on it to make it comfier.
But then again, maybe not, you thought as a quiet but obviously pained groan replaced the professor’s snore suddenly. “Oh, Merlin’s saggy left-...” growled professor Sharp, his lips forming into a thin line and and the wrinkle returning to between his brows. His hand disappeared into the insides of his robes and searched around in the breast pocket for a bit, before resurfacing with a vial of green liquid. He pulled the cork out with his teeth and gulped the potion down in a single swallow, breathing heavily before his muscles finally relaxed once more.
The potions master opened his eyes, dark circles underneath them indicating that he himself didn’t rest quite as well as you. “Miss (L/N),” he said his voice rough from his slumber, “please know that I hope that you won’t get yourself into such a situation again not for only your sake, but for my own as well. I am entirely too old and too tired for sleeping arrangements like these.” Your quiet apology went unanswered.
A few minutes passed with the teacher having closed his eyes once more, and you would’ve thought that he had fallen asleep again, had his hand not been slowly tapping on the armrest. “How do you feel?” he asked without opening his eyes, and you were actually quite glad for that. “Much better, sir,” was your answer, “thank you… For taking care of me.” His dark eyes opened and bore into your own, their intensity nearly enough to make a chill run down your spine: “That’s not what you’re supposed to thank me for. Or did you think I’d just leave you there, half collapsed in your own sick? Is that what you think of me?” You cringed, your eyes screwing shut.
After a few moments of silence, Sharp sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I suppose I am a bit… grumpier than usual because of my aching body. And while I wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of sleeping in a chair were it not for your little suicidal adventure, it is not your fault that I am an old man…” “You’re not old… sir,” you replied, not really knowing why, you just… you just didn’t like seeing him so resigned. You respected the professor a lot, and you were confident that despite his bad leg, he was very much a force to be reckoned with.
He sighed again: “Be that as it may, know that I would not leave you there. I’m responsible for each and every one of my students. The official job description is teaching you lot the art of potion-making, but every member of staff is sworn to do everything in their power to protect the students. Yesterday evening’s events mean that we have failed in this aspect. And while failure is undoubtedly a part of the learning process, I certainly do not take it very well.
“Now, you shouldn’t be grateful to me because I took care of you, as absolutely any and every one of your professors would’ve done the same. What you should, however, be grateful for is the fact that I kept your little adventure to myself. And I am still not convinced I am doing the right thing doing so. The fact that Mr Sallow used the Cruciatus curse on you is very concerning. The fact he even knows the curse is concerning! However, as he used it to get all of you out of that place, I might be able to forgive it. I plan to have a long talk with him about it, however. Being friends with Mr Gaunt, he should know better than to meddle with dark arts. He’s a bright young man, I don’t want him to end up in Azkaban because of youthful stupidity. You’re all terribly clever, it’d be an awful waste to lose you because you decided to bite off more than you can chew. And entering a place built by a man who was a single Unforgivable away from being considered a dark wizard is absolutely more than a fifth-year can chew, no matter how capable.
“That said, I offer you a deal - you tell me all about this excursion of yours, beginning with the location of the entrance, so that I can later make sure it is no longer accessible to anyone, followed by a detailed description of the events that transpired so that I can make a clearer picture about the whole situation, and I in return keep it all to myself. Mind, you and your friends will be scrubbing cauldrons by hand for the following few evenings so that I can make sure you’re staying out of trouble and not, for whatever reason, doing something as insane as going back.” You opened your mouth to protest, but before you had the chance to even take a breath, the professor spoke again: “You were mad enough to go there in the first place, how do I know you’re not mad enough to return, even with all that happened?
“Well, Miss, what do you say? Do we have a deal?”
And so you told him. You told him about Ominis’ aunt and her disappearance within the centuries-old Scriptorium. You told him about a passage that could only be opened by one who can speak the tongue of snakes, therefore making the very first of the rooms a certain deathtrap for anyone and everyone who is not of Slytherin’s descent. You told him of statues that would strike as real snakes would if one took too much time solving their riddles. And finally, about learning of Noctua’s heart-wrenching and untimely demise at the hands of Salazar’s cruel trial. You then described the Scriptorium itself in length, leaving out the part where you found Slytherin’s spellbook.
“So there is another entrance?” asked Sharp, his arms crossed over his chest. He was listening to you attentively, only occasionally asking you to specify or fill in a few things. “Yes, professor,” you replied, “however, I don’t know whether it can be accessed from outside as well.” The potions master thought for a bit: “It would be good to retrieve the poor woman’s remains from there so that she can be given a proper burial, but I do not want to distress Mr Gaunt even more than he already was when I spoke with him yesterday by asking him to go back with me, not to mention bearing witness to yet another instance of the Cruciatus curse, so it would be convenient if the room could be accessed from the other side.”
You bit at your lip nervously. “With all due respect, professor Sharp,” you spoke then, your voice quiet, “Ominis said his aunt and the rest of his family weren’t exactly on the best of terms. I’m not sure if they would give her a proper funeral.” “They may not, but your friend Ominis might… Well, best not to trouble the young man even more now, he seems to have a lot on his mind as is.”
“Will you… will you keep this whole thing to yourself, sir?”
“I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep, Miss (L/N). You told me everything I wanted to know, and I will keep my end of the bargain. I must, however, still discuss with Mr Sallow about his knowledge and uses of Unforgivable curses. There are some curses whose usage could perhaps be excused in some cases, but when we start to do so with the Unforgivables, we’re on our merry way back into the Dark Ages, when wizards and witches would calmly cast the Imperius curse at anyone who was merely mildly inconveniencing them. These curses were outlawed for a reason. Please, tell me that your classmate didn’t teach it to you…”
You squirmed in your seat. Sebastian did offer to teach it to you, but you said no. Should you tell Sharp? No, no… Best not to, Seb was in enough trouble as it was, no need to make it worse.
“He did not. And after I felt what it can do, I know it’s for the best… Nobody should know a spell like that! It’s so… unfair. It’s like… It’s like bringing a rifle into a sword fight.”
“That is a very good comparison, Miss,” said the potions master, “and you best never forget that. These spells are like poison, they’re unnatural, and each one tears away at your very humanity. I know that you wish to remain loyal to your friends, and I, once more, praise you for that. But I implore you to discourage your classmate from using such a spell again, even if it’s for a ‘good thing’. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
You nodded solemnly. You truly hoped there never came a time in which you’d have to once more witness the foul spell, or any of the other two Unforgivables. Sebastian wasn’t that kind of boy - yes, he did teach you one unsanctioned spell once before, but it wasn’t exactly a dark spell. If you were honest, you used it more during Merlin trials than against adversaries.
You hoped you were doing the right thing still, not bringing up the book your friend your friend left the Scriptorium with.
Aesop Sharp watched you intently, possibly hoping that you’d perhaps shed some more light on the situation, but when several minutes passed in absolute silence, he cleared his throat, stretching himself once more. “Now…” he said, “I don’t know how about you, Miss, but I could eat a Hippogriff right now.” Despite yourself, and despite the dark thoughts swirling about in your head, you actually giggled: “If you do, sir, make sure it’s not white with orange eyes, that one’s a friend of mine.”
The professor scoffed: “Friends with a Hippogriff, all the travelling merchants around the Highlands, and two of Slytherin’s three biggest troublemakers. I will need to keep a closer eye on you. This isn’t a joke, by the way, I do intend to keep an eye on you - the things Fig tells me combined with what all I hear about you doing is quite concerning.”
You gulped. You knew he’d find out about everything, sooner or later. After all, even professor Weasley was more than a little suspicious about your activities, but you managed to evade her questions by performing brilliantly in class and helping everybody you encountered. Professor Sharp, a former Auror, would certainly have no problem finding out the truth in the end.
There was only one solution. You had to work faster and harder, You had to carry on with the Keepers’ trials, and you had to stop Ranrok from opening war upon the Wizarding world. And ideally not die in the process. And, hopefully, then Sharp would understand. Maybe he’d even forgive you for the secrecy and the lies.
The teacher sighed and ran his hand over his face.
“What I said yesterday stands. If you need help, you know where to find me. I won’t turn you away. I promise…”
He stood then, towering over your form, still reclining upon the cot.
“Come on, you’ll tag along with me to the Great Hall, so I can make sure your encounter yesterday didn’t leave any lasting effects. In case it has, perhaps your fellow students will find the sight of you limping next to me amusing.”
You grinned. Despite everything, you truly appreciated Sharp’s sense of humour: “Very well, sir.”
Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed the story. As always, you can find this fic and all of my other works over on my AO3
I am always very grateful for feedback 🥰
#fanfiction#hogwarts legacy#aesop sharp#aesop sharp and reader#aesop sharp x reader#protective aesop sharp#ominis gaunt#sebastian sallow#hurt/comfort#ravenclaw reader#aesop sharp and mc#aesop sharp is a good teacher#reader instert
99 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Sacrifice Douma x Reader prologue
Ugh this gif is just mwah chefs kiss.
Pairing: Douma x reader (you)
Summary: You are a sacrifice for Douma
Warnings: Mentions of injury and physical abuse, reader is a slave.
****************************************************.You lied there shaking like a leaf on a stormy day. The burlap pulled over your head obscured any sight, only thin streams of moonlight shown through the scratchy material.
With your vision basically lost your other senses we’re heightened. You could smell the freshly fallen rain. Although you didn’t need your nose to tell you that, the droplets had soaked your clothes throughouly.
Crickets chirping and the occasional owl kept your surroundings from being completely silent. A small blessing. You’ve always hated silence.
The rope around your wrists burned. You could only imagine how they looked.
You willed yourself to stop the tears but they always came anyway. No matter how many times you’ve been in the same situation and told yourself tears wouldn’t solve anything, they still came.
Although this time you suppose you really did have a reason to cry, being sacrificed to a demon wasn’t exactly a daily occurrence .
It all happened so suddenly. One moment you were scrubbing the floors and the next you heard the thundering steps of your master. He yanked you up, muttered something about finally getting rid of you and tied you to the back of his horse.
You figured if he was getting rid of you you didn’t need to fear him for much longer so you braved asking him where he was taking you. Usually if you were being sold off, you were taken to the market or someone would come by to peruse the “merchandise”. So you had a bad feeling.
Eventually when you pissed him off enough with your questions he clicked his heel and forced the horse to go faster which resulted in you being dragged like a rag doll through the rough terrain.
Finally he stopped, laughed at your sorry injured state and told you you were being sacrificed to appease the demon lord of the land.
Something about a deal between the villages and so on. Unfortunately you couldn’t quite catch everything as your head was ringing.
Sometime later he dismounted, threw you to the ground and tied your rope to a tree.
“Finally I’m able to rid myself of you. Always causing me trouble, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong heh, I was merciful too you but you best not behave that way with the Demon Lord, he’ll end you in seconds… heh although he’ll probably kill you anyway soon. So long slave”
Merciful? Were beatings merciful?
Hoof beats softly disappeared and was soon replaced with gentle rain drops. How ironic, you’ve always loved the rain but now each drop felt like a sharp icicle was being driven into your skin.
How long were you going to be here? You’d probably freeze to death soon. Although maybe that was the Better alternative than being eaten by the Demon Lord.
In all your years you’ve somehow managed to stay alive. The hope that one day you’d be free kept you going. No matter how much pain you endured you never were close to death, not really. But now?
Was this how your pitiful life was going to end? Being dinner for some monster?
The tears you she’d had caused a pounding headache. Your whole body was aching and surely bruised and bleeding. And you were shivering cold.
“Oh dear what have we here?”
A stab of panic rose in my chest. Fully alert I tensed at the new voice.
“I was sure I told that man to bring you unscathed”
You heard the crunching of grass get louder.
“You’re alive aren’t you?” The voice, somehow airy and melodic, like a lullaby was just a few feet from you.
You were too afraid to speak, could you play dead?
A rush of panic surged through you as the material that had been obstructing your vision for hours was pulled away.
You should’ve closed your eyes.. you really should have.. because nothing could’ve prepared you for the piercing gaze you were met with.
An unsettling smile, hair that seemed to gleam in the moonless night, and those eyes…
Predatory
Like little balls of every fire were trapped inside glass orbs. If you weren’t so terrified you might have called them beautiful.
“Ah so you are alive, although I must say my dear you look like death”
You might’ve laughed had you not fainted right then and there.
Part 1
**************************************************
Lemme know what you guys think:)
#douma x reader#doma x reader#Douma#kny douma#douma fic#douma x y/n#demon slayer#demon slayer fic#x reader#douma x you#kny#douma smut#demon slayer smut#demon slayer x reader#kimetsu no yaiba#upper moons#upper moon fic#upper moon x reader#akaza#Akaza x reader#love triangle
198 notes
·
View notes
Text
This takes place between session 5 and 6 of Secret Life- based vaguely off of this post
——
The secret keepers met once a week at a diner somewhere deep in the void within the end. The faceless, yet watchful beings met to discuss all things secret life, from task ideas to personal favorite players.
The front door jingled as it opened, and the secret keepers went quiet as the man with the red sweater walked in. They threw him looks of curiosity and deep contempt. Grian was well aware that the secret keepers only tolerated him because he’d organized these games for them to enjoy in the first place. He walked over to the smattering of tables, holding a notebook tight to his chest. The secret keepers all took their seats, wandering back over from the pinball machines and music boxes they had been occupying their time with.
“Fellas, nice to see you all. How’s everyone feeling, what with reds already on the server, huh?” Grian asked, throwing out some finger guns. There was some general murmurs and nods of celestial heads. “Jimmy and Martyn, who would have thought, huh? The dragon really went yeet on Tim’s ass,” that statement was met with silence, so Grian cleared his throat and moved on. “So I had an idea, for both some tasks and server bonding activites.”
The tasks were usually left up to the secret keepers, as they loved to participate in the pain of the players they watched, so this statement raised a couple of eyebrows (metaphorically, anyway- Grian didn’t really know what they looked like under their hoods). Grian knew he didn’t have long before the secret keepers got annoyed with him, so he took out a notebook, and flipped to a page pretty far in the back.
“So, picture this, a warden and a wither fight, right in front of the secret keeper. Think of the drama, the carnage, the potential sacrifice, the teamwork to keep the two beasts in check. I’m thinking Etho for the warden part of this, as he’s pretty adept at wrangling them. And I wasn’t quite sure who could be the other person for the task, so let’s just call them… y/n, for now.”
“What does y slash n mean?” one of the secret keepers asked.
“It’s… um, well, it’s just kind of a placeholder for m- someone to put their name in post… publishing. The tasks are randomized, right?”
There were some confused murmurs from the group, but waves to .
“Right,” Grian continued, “so y/n would have to be super brave and go collect wither skulls in the nether to make a wither. And then y/n could work with Etho to make the fight happen. And they couldn’t tell anyone, so it would just be a secret between them, and they’d have to get super close and personal…”
“This seems more detailed and personal then our usual task dedications,” a secret keeper said. “Did you have a particular person in mind to be this… y slash n?”
“Umm…” Grian coughed. “Imaybehadmyselfinmind?”
“What was that?”
“I mean, I could go to the nether…”
There was a collective groan from the secret keepers.
“You just want to be best friends with Etho.”
“Him and the whole server.”
“Who elected you king of the secret keepers, deciding your own task?”
“Fellas, fellas…” Grian said, holding out his hands apologetically. “It’s only a suggestion. y/n could be whoever you want. But whoever it is, maybe we could also have a task that makes Mumbo y/n’s… butler?”
Grian cringed as several secret keepers threw their hands up in exasperation.
“You want Mumbo to be your butler?” one of them asked. “What kind of fantasy world do you live in?”
“No, no, it’s just for whoever this… y/n person ends up being!” Grian knew they were seeing right through his lies. “Maybe he can, like, help y/n and Etho pull off this fight! Mumbo is very competent.”
There was an uproar of noise at that, and Grian stared furiously down at his notes. They just don’t understand the vision, he thought. The secret keepers eventually settled down again, throwing him annoyed looks assumedly. “Anything else, Grian?” one of them asked exasperatedly.
Grian looked down at his notebook, reading the final idea he’d had last night, mentally facepalmed over the little hearts he’d put over the dot of the I’s. “No…”
“Don’t lie, you’ve already made a fool of yourself today.”
“Well, maybe the warden and the wither could fall in love,” Grian said, clinging as he said the words. “Enemies to lovers style… i wrote a little story about it last night if you want to read it sometime…”
If the secret keepers knew how to do more then just stare and mutter to one another, they would have booed him out of the diner. They didn’t, but Grian knew that their patience with him had run out.
“And that’s all I had, fellas. I hope you guys have tons of fun coming up with new tasks, they’re always so much fun and super awesome. Love you,” he left the diner as quickly as he could, and before he knew it, he was back in his bed on the Secret Life server.
The next day, each player recieved their newest task, a book popping into each of their inventories. Grian opened his and read it once, twice, and a giddy grin spread over his face. He clutched the book to his chest in a hug, then put it away in his inventory. He put his hair up into a messy bun, and raced to go find Etho. They had a lot to do today, after all.
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
It's deeply intriguing to me how much Godot is bad at prosecuting when compared to every other main prosecutor.
He's the only prosecutor in the series who's ever let a criminal, Ron DeLite, walk free, and it's totally his fault. There are at least two instances in 3-2 and 3-3 where, instead of trying to pin Phoenix with evidence, he lets his conjecture fly and argues the logic of it, which anyone who's even heard of Phoenix knows is a losing battle. He's good at making arguments, but he falls shorts compared to prosecutors like, say, van Zieks. His only real troublesome trait is that he will not let Phoenix take shortcuts and forces him to lay out his full reasoning, whereas other prosecutors, namely Klavier, will catch on the defense's reasoning and will spell out the conclusion.
And at first, it's not shocking, because out of the gate, you know he's a rookie, and not a genius like Franziska or Edgeworth, whose first outing is a much more impressive.
However, we later learn that he's Diego Armando, an experienced defense attorney, and it doesn't make any sense. We saw him advise Mia, we heard him give advice that would inform Phoenix's tactics later on. He should be the perfect counter to him, much like how a certain defense-attorney-turned-prosecutor in another installment of the series actually is.
And then, you hit Bridge to Turnabout.
He's the killer. He knows everything that went down. It's more and more obvious as the case goes on that he knows more than he lets on. And yet, he continues to pressure Phoenix to crack the case, as usual. But this time, he's both more lenient and more unforgiving.
On one hand, he straight up gives hints to the defense. Every other time a prosecutor has done the same, it was in a clear team-up moment against a common enemy. This time, he's the culprit, so that's not what happens.
On the other hand, not only is it the case where he whips out the unlimited penalty, but he also cranks up the verbal abuse from "witty jabs" to "reason-you-suck speeches", is much more tough on which lines of reasoning you follow, and basically makes no prosecuting mistakes (I don't count the red-on-white stuff, man's disabled).
At first, I interpreted this as his guilty conscience pushing him to get caught, and while I still believe that, there's another, far more complex interpretation that makes him truly fascinating.
Godot admits at the end of the trial that Phoenix following in Mia's footsteps was both the brave and correct way to go about honoring her, unlike his desire for revenge, which he calls "running away from [his] grief". He also says he wanted to test Phoenix's mettle
So what if, deep down, he wanted to see Phoenix disprove his reductive vision of him, and subtly acted as a sink-or-swim type of mentor?
Now, don't get me wrong, I don't believe he purely had good intentions when he set out to do so, I think he was lashing out at an easy target and it made him forget his hurt for just a second. It's a textbook "vengeance feels empty" type story.
What I'm saying is, just like Edgeworth wanted to be guilty of his father's murder to be relieved of the weight of his grief despite his innocence and how Franziska thought she would be happy if she was as monstrous as her father and was devastated when she realized she wasn't, Godot thought becoming evil could free him from his suffering, but his best self, the person he could be if he faced his grief head on and grew to overcome it like Phoenix did, prevented him from losing himself in that villainy
Hey, it's almost like there's a thematic throughline with the OT's main prosecutors. Weird.
36 notes
·
View notes
Note
May I ask--
All the teens playing seven minutes in Heaven, (Jonathan, Argyle, Nancy, Robin, and Steve, and Eddie) and Eddie spins and it lands on male reader, so Eddie just smirks and they go to the closet.
They end up making out, maybe Eddie fingers the reader or something and when Steve tries opening the door, Eddie slams it shut with his foot?
Dom Eddie has me feral right now man-
Requests have resumed. You can submit yours here!
Currently writing for Eddie Munson. I write for a variety of reader inserts (male, female, gender neutral, readers of color too).
The more details you had to your request, the better it is for me. EX: “What about some fluff for Eddie after he’s had a long day?”
Feel free to look through my masterlist here!
Eddie Munson x Male Reader. Reader is 19.
CW: Smut adjacent. So, 18+ please!
_______________________________
It's silly. And yet, the realization of how silly it really is doesn't stop the thundering of your heart. Robin's the one that suggested it. She'd confessed amongst the group as they piled in the Wheeler basement free of the younger teens as they'd banded together to catch a movie that she'd missed her younger days of sleepovers. Robin's the one that when the conversation winded down memory lane also confessed she'd never gotten to play a game of seven minutes in heaven.
The room freezes. Eyes are flickering around to everyone else in the room. Steve's trying to avoid eye contact with Nancy and she's looking at Jonathon. Argyle shrugs, unphased by what he assumes is to come next. Eddie glances briefly over to you before looking and holding eye contact with Steve.
You're just staring at Robin. Because why she'd confess that you'll never know and like the silence winds Robin up, she continues on. "I am by no means suggesting we play. Like it's so totally stupid. A lot of folks here have too much history and it would be awkward no doubt. I was just saying I wish I had gotten a chance to play. You know? For memories sake. For the sake of a little story in my older years. Should I make it that far, ya know. But still--"
"Robin, we're adults," Steve returns. Steve knows his statement is only on technicality sake. But it is true--most everyone in the room was an adult. No matter what happened (or didn't happen) they could easily laugh it off, skip on whatever is deemed too awkward.
You can't say you're really looking at Robin anymore. Your eyes are pointed in her direction but she's not filling your vision in a way that makes your brain recognize her. You're staring through her--at the imagined near future. YOu all sit, around the pizza box, someone's finished coke on the top of it, spinning glass to seal fates. Rounding the corner to go into the closet just off the stairs. Maybe some folks laugh at their pairings. You imagine Robin and Steve would snicker, agree to go to the closet and then in the span of the seven minutes devise some plan to make their own clothes look dishevel and wait for the poor soul to knock to let them know their time is up for one of them--Robin mostly likely to make a joke that she's definitely still gay.
It is funny. As you imagine them.
But you can't help but also wonder what happens should it land on Steve or Nancy or worse yet, you and Eddie. You do not want to imagine what happens should that bottle land on you and Eddie. Would you two just stand on opposite sides of the closet, making small talk as you normally do? Would you be brave enough knowing that in the end, you'd have an out--7 minutes and sooner should it all blow up in your face.
"I'm down," Argyle chuckles. "Would absolutely make for an interesting story. Let's just, like, set ground rules."
"Ground rules!" Steve jumps in, hands clapping together for a moment before he points to Argyle. "Sounds perfect. Love that idea."
"So, should we be able to politely reject a pairing? Like if it's going to be too awkward we can sort of just back of it?" Nancy offers.
"I'm cool with it," Eddie nods. "If people want to go for a joke, it should like be mutually decided. You know--consent and shit."
You know that if you really don't want to play you can say no. It is an odd number without you and both you and Jonathon haven't said much for or against it. You plead with yourself if Jonathon backs out you will too to make it even. But as the pizza box closes--the last of it's slices consumed long algo--he slides in closer to the table.
There goes your exit. Fuck, you say to yourself. Now you have to be strategic. You need to check where you sit to see who's direct across from you and then diagonal to you. They're the ones you'll be getting. Do you go across from Eddie? Do you sit next to him to avoid the whole situation?
By the time you can tell yourself you're going to just sit next to him the spots are filling up and you notice where Eddie had been next to you he's now right across from you. Argyle's to your left, Robin to your right. Diagonal from you on either side of Eddie are Nancy and Steve.
Fates--they seal faster than one can calculate sometimes.
"I-I'll go first," Steve states. "You know, break the seal," he jokes.
The roll of the glass bottle against the cardboard of the pizza box echoes in your brain. The scratching is a smooth sound as it whirls around and around and round.
The first match and laughter breaks out. Steve and Robin. "Oh, god, kill me now," she laughs.
"Hey, I'm a nice guy," Steve counters. "I'll always ask." His hands extends out and Robin laughs, hands shooting up to defend herself.
"Oh, come on. I know I don't have tits, but I'm a fun time," Steve laughs.
Robin, even in the bouts of her laugher, eventually stands. "Who's keeping time?"
"I-I'll do it," Jonathon offers, slipping his watch off and setting it on the edge of the table.
"Ready for the best seven minutes of your life," Steve grins, slipping his arm around Robin's.
"Whatever you say, loser."
And as the door shuts behind them, the first minute creeps by in silence. The whispers are just wisps of Steve's and Robin's voices and then Robin's laughter erupts from the closet and it's clear that it's not awkward at all for them. So the group relaxes.
You can't help as Argyle's voice carries out over the silence but glance up to Eddie. His eyes are glued to you. It's clear he's still listening to whatever is being said, but his big brown eyes hardly leave your face until Jonathon stands up.
"Time!" Jonathon calls out, hand raising to knock on the door but he doesn't get the chance before he stumbles out of the way.
Steve stumbles out first, his polo pulled out of his jeans, hair tousled. Robin struts out after him, perfectly intact. Steve makes a big show of stumbling back to his spot and then right there on his cheek is a red print left behind of lipstick. Clearly it's Robin but her lipstick doesn't look hardly budged. She makes show of clearing the corners of her mouth and asking Nancy to check her teeth for lipstick stains.
"You're-you're all good," Nancy giggles out.
Another spin. Argyle and Jonathon. They laugh and Nancy agrees to keep time. They're voices are louder as they talk from the closet. Perhaps the gods would be on your side and let you slither by without embarrassment.
The boys return after Nancy calls for them. They're laughing--you're not sure about what. But given Argyle in the equation it could be anything.
Another spin and though Eddie's stare is still hot on your skin you start to think you will get by unscathed. The glass bottle spins and whirs in the room until it slows to a wobbly stop.
You and Eddie.
Your eyes lift before your head and Eddie's brows are raised. "Only if you want. I meant what I said."
Your heart is hammering in your chest. His lips are nice and pink. They're begging to be kissed. It's like Eddie is begging you to kiss him. You nod, throat cleared by your hum. "I think you might be shocked you're not the only one with boyish charm."
It's faux confidence. Your knees are knocking as the two of you stand. You're sure you're going to faint. "I'm keeping time, boys," Robin calls out behind you.
Eddie wave you into the tiny closet first with a bow. You step through, inhaling deeply as the door shuts behind you. "You seem nervous," Eddie states.
You turn and he's leaning against the door, fingers playing at his rings. He doesn't seem hurt by the statement. Maybe you catch something like amusement. He continues on, "Because if I'm honest, I'm probably the last person you should be nervous about. Harrington, I've heard, has a way with the boys."
That gets you to chuckle. Steve's blaringly straight and though he and Robin have a good relationship enough for them to devise their stunt, he is not going after boys--not the likes of you anyway. Not that you ever wanted Steve too either. Sure, Steve is attractive. But he's not necessarily your type.
"I think I can handle myself around the likes of Steve. He's all talk, not bite."
"Oh, I didn't realize we'd be exposing kinks so early into our time."
"I-" you choke on air. "No-uh." A cough interrupts you and Eddie slides in, hand clapping down on your mid-back.
"You okay?" he asks softer now.
You nod when you get one solid inhale. "I'm okay."
"You sure? Thought I'd have to give you mouth to mouth there for a second," Eddie teases. His breath tickles your cheek. The hand on your back slips down to your lower back. Then stops. Your heart races. "Tell me no, okay? If-If I'm reading this wrong, tell me no."
Eddie steps, standing now in front of you. The hand on your back moves to your hip. The smell of his cologne--something you're sure was originally Wayne's but Eddie had mostly commandeered--fills your nose.
"Yes," you whisper, hands gripping at the front of Eddie's flannel. A red one and you're certain it's a hand me down too.
Eddie rears back for a second, taking in the way your eyes of fluttered close. "Yes?" he asks for clarification.
"Yes," you return. The toes of your shoes bump into Eddie's. Then he's closing the gap. His lips eal around yours gently and your swear your guts are going to melt.
You are going to become a puddle in Nancy Wheeler's basement closet but you do not care. Eddie is tender, a bit hesitant as the gasp leaves him. You take the gap and leap it--licking ever so gently at his mouth. Eddie laughs in return and surges forward. The momentum wavers you and you take a step back.
Eddie's grip is tight. His lips are firmer now. The kisses are growing hotter, more hums and moans are slipping from both your throats with little regard for the fact that you can be heard. You go until your back hits the wall and Eddie slides his fingers up and under your shirt.
You hiss at the warmth at his fingers. The touch is faint, so light that you think you're insane for how much you feel it. His rough fingers make your spine shiver. He traces the v of your hips, lips working down your jaw.
"God," Eddie breathes when you whine at the last hickey he sucks into your skin. "Sounds so pretty for me."
You sigh as Eddie whispers into your skin. You don't catch everything he says but you know right now heaven is the heat of Eddie's touch and kisses.
You trace the line of hair at the nape of Eddie's neck, fingers buried in his hair cradling his head right in the spot that makes your groin stir. "Fuck," you groan.
"There?" Eddie asks against your skin.
"Hmm, yes, there--right there," you whine out.
"Time!" Robin bellows. Her voice shakes a little. No shadow passes in front of the door when you crack open your eye. Fuck it, you think.
Your fingers are working at the button of Eddie's jean and he laughs. "Giving them a show?" he asks.
You shake your head. "No, I-fuck," you exhale. You scrub your hand over your face. You've nearly forgotten where you are. "I like you, Eddie."
His palms cradle your cheeks, eyes oozing as he looks at you. "I like you too."
"C'mon, seriously," Steve calls out. The door jiggles a little and Eddie spins, pushing back on it.
"Just a second!" Eddie bellows.
"Thirty second or I'm coming in--even if dicks are out," Steve returns.
You snort at his retort and Eddie turns back to you. "Come back to my place."
"Oh, okay, after this would be fine."
Eddie shakes his head. "No, like right now." When your brows furrow together, he steps in crotch pressing into yours. He slips just to the side and you notice now how hard he is in his jeans. "I am going to finish what I started."
You can only nod and Eddie takes your hand. The lights of the basement momentarily blind you as you and Eddie step through the door but the group is clearly amused and maybe a little scared too by what they auditorily witnessed. But even the low wolf whistle of Argyle doesn't seem to phase Eddie who carries on, up to the stairs. "Catch y'all lovely folks next time," he calls as you follow behind him.
"Oh my god," Robin cackles. "A story for the books."
You two get outside and Eddie spins on the front poor, kissing you again against the door. "Just enough to tide me over," he laughs and when he spins around again, you notice he hasn't even bothered to button his jeans back up fully, the belt hangly loosely and buckle clicking as he goes.
"Robin," you whisper, "I owe you one."
#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x male reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie munson smut adjacent#h writes#stranger things#steve harrington#robin buckley#argyle stranger things#jonathon byers#nancy wheeler
281 notes
·
View notes
Text
In 2015, I played Life is Strange; I was 17 years old, and hadn't quite realized I was a trans woman yet. For me back then, LiS was a fantasy more than anything; not because I wished I had Max's powers, but because I got to play as a young woman falling in love with her best friend. Even before I could articulate why, I felt this deep ache of longing for what could have been. By the end of that year, I had come out to myself and my friends, and I still credit LiS for helping me figure things out that way.
When I first played LiS, I felt like the "Bay" ending was the most appropriate for Max's story. If LiS is a game about growing up, then sacrificing Chloe is a hard but necessary choice to make, and I believed it was the right one. I never questioned the idea that good people will sacrifice their own happiness for the good of society, or for the people they love. So, when I began adulthood, I did so with purpose, but without passion. I did all the things I needed to do to survive and make it out into the world on my own, and I was miserable for most of the time.
When I came back to the LiS fandom in the past couple of years, I got a chance to re-examine my favorite game with a new perspective. I immersed myself in fanfic, I indulged my nostalgia, and I began to reinterpret this work that shaped me years before. I looked at the "Bae" ending especially with fresh eyes; I started seeing it not as a selfish decision, but an unselfish one, a choice made out of love for a girl who was let down by everyone who was supposed to care for her before. How cruel it was to imagine Chloe's story ending with her bleeding out in a bathroom, still thinking that nobody cared for her.
Now, I'm 25. I'm an adult in every sense of the word, and despite everything, it seems like my life is...kind of working out. I'm almost a year into HRT, I have a job that lets me live a reasonably nice life, and I'm planning on moving in with my girlfriend. When I started True Colors, I tried to temper my expectations, and hoped that my nostalgia for the past wouldn't inhibit my enjoyment of a new entry in the series. So, 6 years after the first, I played a Life is Strange game; and, for the second time, it showed me exactly what I needed to see.
If Life is Stange is a game about growing up, True Colors is a game about what happens after. It's a game about starting over, about finding a place to call home and people to call family. Where Max's powers let her find the perfect way to get what she wanted or say the right thing, Alex's powers ask her to understand the people around her. Where LiS holds the threat of the Storm over Max's head, Gabe's death in True Colors is just a tragedy that Alex has to process. LiS' central mystery comes down to an evil man doing evil things; True Colors' is the result of an entrenched capitalist machine that operates not out of malice, but out of sheer self-interest.
When I finished True Colors, I was confronted with a choice that felt like the polar opposite of LiS' ending. After all the excitement and emotion, the question posed to Alex first felt almost incidental. Nobody's life hung in the balance, neither choice carried any real emotional consequences, and there was no way of knowing what the ultimate results might be. But as I considered Gabe's vision for Alex, I was struck by how real it felt. How it felt like the choices I was already making in life, and the choices I know are yet to come in my future. I think 17-year-old me would have jumped at the idea of a life of adventure, traveling the country with the girl I love. But now, I can't help but think of how many chances we really get to find a home. I doubt it's a high number. So I chose to stay. And I can only hope that, whenever I'm given that choice in my life, I am brave enough to take a chance on whatever place I've found for myself.
#Life is Strange#True Colors#Shoutout to The Wrecking Collective#also yes this is my yearly text post#also nobody will be surprised that i romanced steph so i didn't even mention it LOL
112 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can I request Miranda Miranda X child reader fic comforting however. When she was obsessed with having eve back and using rose to make it happen but then it failed. Perhaps you could do an aftermath? Instead of mother Miranda dying you could say once she saw the child reader alone she felt something that she hadn't with rose for example? Then maybe a connection forms when she takes her in?
Nothing in this world belong to me, but my love, is mine, all mine.
Mother miranda x fem!childreader.
Warning: thought of suicide, grief, sadness, pain, rage, extra fluff.
The air was thick and cold, mainly freezing. The snow fell off the trees along with dead birds who failed to leave their nest before the snow storm arrived. Everyone of the village was inside, not a single soul wanted to be outside in theses kind weather conditions and freeze to death.
The path way into the haunted forest was dark and gloomy, the whispers of the wind was loud and eerie. The once grassed pathway was now bare ice. The brave hawks, crowed as they stood tall on tree branches. The only light guiding anyone's way was the moon. the mist of the late night enveloping the midnight sky, in a dark grey mist.
The air was spicy. The slight smell of smoke, burnt candles and late 90s perfume that had been sweated off. The smell of lavender and cinnamon can be picked up along with the many other scents.
The fire of the bonfire burned bright, coloring the circle of trees and stone seats a dim but bright orange glow.
Upon one of the seats, weeping was no other than mother miranda.
Her story is quite simple yet many fail to understand that behind all her treacherous acts is.... a human being.
A woman who had a normal life....
A mother who loss her daughter to a disease.
A simple human been who failed once in life and was crucified for it.
Despite her actions - that she has no excuse for, lays a heart of gold. One that many respected, one that many obeyed, one that many feared, one that many still loved.
In her shaking hands was a thin old fading piece of picture. Her before.... well, her before the 'black god' handed her, her powers. A woman who lived a quiet, peaceful, happy life. In her hands she held her new born daughter eva. The love of her life, the one her heart would beat for, the reason for her to go on.....
That little girl was now dead.
She was taken away from her mother at such a young age.
Died at such a young age.
Miranda's heart remained cold, bitter, selfish and evil ever since. Her heart never healed. Though many others would still grieve, you have to move on. ' life goes on' they say say. Something Miranda couldn't quite understand, doesn't understand. While it's easy to understand her pain it's hard to justify her actions because of that pain. With great loss brings great pain, with great pain brings great regret.
Though regret was something Miranda never had - never felt. Killing hundreds of dozens of people just to find a vessel for her eva. Not that she was off topic crazy she was also down right ridiculous and brutal to thoses who were also given a chance of life just like her daughter.
If there's life, there's death, it's how you deal with both that matters. And miranda only knew solution to one.
Rage filled her as she stood up and screamed to the top of her lungs. Resulting in the last batch of brave birds that were lingering on the tree to fly away.
Her scream was indeed powerful, when she first got her powers she used it to her advantage, breaking the neck of those who tried to kill her.
The Goddess fell to her knees, hugging the picture close to her chest as she sobbed. It was rare to see mother miranda show emotions much less to cry. If any man was to see her in such a state for sure she would kill them instantly.
She choked on her tears as she wailed heavily,that's before it was cut off when she heard a branch snap.
She quickly wiped her tears and looked up. She looked around herself using her prey catching x-ray vision and hawk eye to see extra miles into the dullness of the forest. She spotted a little girl in a white lace floral dress, frizzy hair and plae skin. Her eyesbrows quirked as she slowly got up and brushed off her dress.
She softly smiled at the young girl behind the bushes. Miranda had a love for children long before her daughter eva died, but since then she only cared about using them for her vessel. But Miranda felt something different with this girl. Something strange.
" Come her my love" she spoke in a low, soft tone. Again something Miranda never does. The little girl was hesitant at first. Looking at the tall woman before her. Dressed in black, black and gold cloak with her coat of arms on it, gold hawk mask and feathers at her feet. Any other child would run away screaming and never look back at the creature behind them.
The little girl sniffed as she emerged from her hiding spot and walked towards miranda, stopping right infront of her. Miranda chuckled as she kneeled so that she can be on the same eye level with the young girl.
" Your a brave one aren't you." She cooed as she examined the girl. She had the most beautiful y/c/e and a well featured face.
" and your very beautiful" she spoke twirling a strand of the child's hair. The girl smiled at miranda in awe and pure bliss, but it quickly faded as she sneezed. Miranda pulled away for a slit second before returning her attention to the girl. That's when it came clear to her that the girl was sick.
Miranda slightly pouted as she tucked a strand of hair away for her forehead to behind her ear as she felt that her skin was even burning up.
" you poor thing" miranda whispered with true sympathy as she picked up the girl. The girl was quick to wrap her arms around miranda's neck and snuggle into it. Miranda held the girls head as she started walking. Miranda felt light in her dark miserable heart, for once in a long time miranda actually felt like her void can be healed. But she didn't want to get her hopes incase the girl had a family to return to.
Miranda didn't want to creat a vessel for eva because she missed her, or because she has a hard time dealing with grief, part of her wanted eva to be the next inking to her powers when she dies so the world and village can stay a catastrophic place.
Who would have thought that despite mother miranda's damanor that she has a average modern house. She sighed as she opened the door and place the little girl down.
" alright you little gaint, run along now, your quite heavy I must add" she spoke as she closed the door behind her. The little gasped as she saw the huge box of toys in the living room area.
" you have toys!" She exclaimed as she ran over to the fluffy carpet and sat on it, taking out all the toys one by one making a mess. Miranda chuckled, happiness filling her chest, but that's when she felt it... the sharp stabbing pain. She quickly used her powers to block out the girls hearing, not wanting to traumatize her in anyway or possibly anymore.
She started hyperventilating as quickly made her way to the nearest wall so she could hold herself up. She took slow breaths as she removed her mask, her gaze landing upon the young girl sitting in her living room. Miranda was scared to love again, scared to love a child again. Because she's afraid what she loves she'll lose. Tears filled her eyes as she looked at the girl happily playing with some dolls and trucks.
She tried her best to keep her tears at bay as she restored the girls hearing. Miranda cleared her throat as she approached the girl and sat behind her.
" can I keep this one! I named her emily!" The young girl spoke happily pushing a doll in miranda's face, miranda sniffed as a soft laughter escaped her. She nodded and the girl turned back around and kept playing. Miranda gently removed her talons from her fingers as she started combing through the child's frizzy and tangled hair. Massaging her scalp she started braiding her hair in a french braid, adding a white bow at the end.
" alright let's go get you something for that cold" she said as she got up and walked over to the kitchen. The little girl walked behind her sitting in one of the chairs at the dinner table, swinging her short legs because of the height of the chair. Miranda prepared some herbal tea that she can drink at her age and some mint and honey cookies.
The little girl gladly took them eating and drinking everything in a every funny way. After miranda gave her a some cold orange juice and ran her a bath. After she was all tucked in into bed, Eva's bed. Just as miranda was about to turn off the lights the girl spoke up again.
" can you sing me a song?, my mom used to do it but she's gone now, so can you be my mom and sing me a song?" Miranda swore she felt her heart erupt in butterflies at the young girl asking for her to play a mother figure, but she couldn't ignore the fact that the girls parents died. Miranda hummed in response and sat on the edge of the bed, watching as the girl hugged her teddy bear and made extra space. As miranda began singing the girl became comfortable and slowly she started falling asleep.
" Yes you'll be in my heart from this day forward and forever more" miranda whispered as she finished the song, by now the girl had already fallen asleep. Miranda sighed, smiling at the girl and her sleeping form before placing a peck on her forehead. She turned on her purple lava lamp and turned off the bedroom lights before closing the door.
Miranda then went to her room, she sighed as she sat on her bed. In her one hundred years of being alive, she's never felt so happy, so fulfilled and like she was capable of loving. That void in her chest was slowly vanishing, but that brings great pain, but she's ready to face the pain. Because this new little girl is hers and she's a blessing.
Miranda realized that she doesn't need to bring Eva back..... what she needs to do is move on, it's been way too long. It's time to let herself feel again....
#fypシ゚viral#fanfic#marilynthornhilllover#resident evil village#resident evil 8#resdient evil#mother miranda#re8 village#re8#mother miranda re8#fluff
47 notes
·
View notes
Text
So I rewatched Pacific Rim: The Black to refresh myself on how bad it was, and once again I am just kind of in awe at how god-awful it is.
The Black very literally takes the magic out of Pacific Rim. You know how "drift hangover" refers to a persistent psychic connection between pilot and jaeger? Welp, here "drift hangover" is used to refer to a headache after drifting. Ghost drifting (you know, when pilots get psychic with each other) is turned into ghost piloting, which is when a pilot drifts with the memory of another pilot. Like, it's understandable if most people don't clock the mysticism and animism underpinning Guillermo del Toro's vision of Pacific Rim, but this is a very deliberate effort to erase where humans can just have funky psychic shit happen to them sometimes.
The Black doesn't really seem to understand how drifting works. Two characters have a heated argument without falling out of alignment. Another character functionally has a mind-reading ray. There's no real comprehension of what drift compatibility is and how it works.
The child soldiers are younger than ever. Taylor looks like he was maybe twelve at most when he was taking his pilot's test. Like. Actual twelve year olds are getting certified as jaeger pilots in this world. And this is framed as a good and desirable thing. Literally what the fuck.
The Black calls Horizon Brave "Horizon Bravo," and claims it's a Mark IV jaeger. If you have literally any access to any information about Horizon Brave at all, you know it's a Mark I jaeger.
The jaeger piloted by the children (Atlas Destroyer) is claimed to be a Mark III jaeger, yet uses the type of fuel cells introduced in Uprising. Like it was a whole fucking plot point that Lady Danger was a nuclear jaeger. Literally all they would've had to do was make Atlas Destroyer a Mark VI. It would have been fine.
Atlas Destroyer has a bunch of features Mark IIIs definitely didn't have. Remember how Raleigh and Yancy needed a crew to help them into their drivesuits? Atlas Destroyer just automatically tosses 'em on itself. Remember how Lady Danger's AI mostly just gave status updates? Atlas Destroyer's AI holds entire conversations. Again, you could've just made it a Mark VI, show.
And speaking of Atlas Destroyer's AI, for some goddamn reason the PPDC gave her an emotion chip. Because it's not hard enough to be a pilot already, now your jaeger gets to have anxiety.
The Black claims that Trespasser "smashed the Australian wall in the first attack." This is wrong on every conceivable level. Trespasser attacked San Francisco in the first attack, in 2013. The first kaiju to attack Sydney was Scissure, in 2014. The kaiju what smashed the wall was Mutavore, in 2025.
There is one queer-coded character. He is murdered in gory fashion.
There is one Indigenous-coded character who studies kaiju and their biology. He is depicted being into New Agey woo and wrongly believing that the kaiju he raised can love him. He dies when one of his kaiju eats him.
A major antagonist is depicted as a ruthless man who will kidnap, mindwipe, exploit, and even murder children. Then the show attempts to give him a redemption arc and we're supposed to actually care.
The PPDC refused to let the children's father retrieve them and the other survivors left behind in "the Black." (Read: Australia after the PPDC literally bombed it from space after a bunch of breaches started opening all over it.) Yeah, the PPDC can bomb an entire continent from space, but they can't spare a goddamn rescue helicopter.
Despite all of this and the aforementioned child soldiers, the PPDC is framed as the good guys and the only respite from the horrors of the Black; getting to the Sydney shatterdome is an unambiguously happy ending.
Early on we're lead to think that the PPDC might be getting its hands dirty with kaiju genetic experiments/bioweapon development. Later on we learn that it's the local kaiju cultists doing it. Now come on, which suspect actually makes sense here; the PPDC who can afford to build a killsat, or the kaiju cultists who apparently can't even afford a sterile room to perform a blood transfusion in?
The kaiju cultists are pretty obviously inspired by far right conspiracy theories about evil cults, rather than the actual behaviors of actual cults.
The kaiju sisters recruit by kidnapping women, turning them into kaiju hybrids, and forcing them into their hivemind. For some reason they kill all men. Despite this they are really obsessed with the idea that the half-kaiju smol, who for all appearances is a boy, is going to be their kaiju messiah. It really doesn't make sense, but then again, what can we expect from a slapdash job of far right conspiracy theories?
By the way, this is the PPDC banner literally hanging from the PPDC training center, in the show that is very firm in insisting that THE PPDC IS THE GOOD GUYS WHO PROTECT YOU:
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Stranger of the Falls - Part 7
Pairing: Boromir x Reader
Rating: T
Chapter Word Count: 3900
Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]
Full story: [ AO3 ]
※※※
7. Free
More days passed. You went on with your work, checking on Maja’s little sister and her mother, changing the bandages of an old injury on one of the returning men, seeing the elderly and telling them the good news about the war. You withheld the bad news about the decoy attack and the very slim chance of ever beating the Dark Lord.
At least Cair Andros was free; you need not worry about orc attacks any longer, nor keep nightly watches.
You saw Boromir sometimes but only exchanged brief nods. He kept training Svarten, and then a few foals Vidar wanted broken in. But most often you saw him standing at the outskirts of the village, leaning on his cane, eyes set on the eastern sky.
He was looking at Mordor.
One day you gathered your courage and joined him. “How are you?”
He gave his crooked grin without taking his eyes away from the horizon. “Fine.”
“How is your chest? Still healing nicely? No tightness of the skin?”
“No. Do not trouble yourself; I really am well.”
“And the mobility on your right side?” you continued stubbornly.
He opened and closed his hand a few times. “As good as it ever will, I think. I can do almost everything I could before, but not with the same strength, and I still need a cane when I must walk more than a few steps.”
“I see. Keep exercising.”
“I will.”
You could not think of any more questions and fell silent.
His gaze returned to the ominous clouds, the perpetual darkness that had lingered over the Mordor border all your life.
What was happening there? Had the decoy worked? Was the secret mission completed? Or had it failed?
You were certain Boromir was asking himself these same questions too – over and over again.
“If that halfling succeeds – what will you do then?” you asked.
He did not answer right away. Then he sighed, looking more dejected than you had ever seen him. “I do not know,” he said, barely audibly. “I cannot see the future… I see only darkness ahead; impenetrable, frightening. And there is a heavy weight in me… in my heart.” He glanced at you. “I believe that is why I cannot bond with others like I used to, not form friendships or… other connections. Not until I know what will happen…”
You thought you understood what he meant. He was talking about you, trying to explain why he kept a distance. Somehow, his words lit a tiny hope in your chest. If you won, if the dark Lord was defeated…
But he swiftly crushed that.
“I have no hope the halfling will succeed. Maybe if the rest of the Fellowship had been with him…” He broke off, glancing at you again, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “It is my fault he must walk alone,” he whispered. “Do you recall the secret weapon I told you about? My dream? I had dreams of that ilk frequently. The Ring whispered to me… spoke to me… showed me visions. It became so precious to me I wanted to have it.” His hands were shaking and he clenched them. “First I sought to convince him, urging him to give it up, and when that failed I tried to wrestle it from him! I, a man of Gondor, twice his height. Unbelievable…”
You wished you knew what to say, but did not, so you just stood there. Silent.
“Frodo – that is the name of the halfling – ran away alone. That is why Aragorn must go on this suicide mission now. If he perishes, that is on me. If Frodo does, that is on me too. It will be my fault alone.”
“I do not think–”
“Do not try to excuse what I did. I was weak, and I fell, and countless lives have been spilled because of it. I should have been there.” He pointed south, toward his homeland. “If I had, my father would still be alive today. My brother might not have been injured.” He gave you a look full of self-loathing. “I am sorry, but I am not the hero you and the rest of the village believe I am. I am not strong, or brave. I am a coward. And what is worse…” He clenched his hands again. “Even now I want it. Even now a part of me hopes Frodo will fail so I can claim it.”
Without another word he limped away.
※
After that conversation you became rather distracted in your work. All the time your thoughts lingered on Boromir.
You needed to figure out the complex man that was him.
With a few sly questions to Torsten and the others who had been to the war you tried to find out more of his background. You asked many questions about the quest he had been a part in when he was presumed killed, and you also pretended an interest in the new heir to the throne who had shown up, which brought on the topic of the ruling stewards who had held the power for centuries in the king’s absence. It helped you figure out more details about Boromir’s early life.
Putting it all together, you concluded his actions were completely understandable.
Boromir was born the eldest son of the steward – basically a prince. Raised to be a leader and politician, to always do what was best for the people. Not allowed to have his own dreams or goals.
He became a warrior and captain, trained to lead others into battle, and was likely encouraged to seek an honorable death, if worst came to worst. All his life Gondor had been the only country trying to defend against the darkness of Mordor, the only army trying to hold the last forts and cities, sacrificing their lives to do so while the rest of the world did not know or did not care what happened.
You were one of them. You, a Rohirrim, had never realized what an impossible task Middle-earth had assigned Gondor. How selfishly you had continued your business as usual.
Then Boromir had been sent to aid a halfling, who had no particular skills, strength or powers, to carry the most dangerous and powerful item in the world from Rivendell to Mount Doom in Mordor and destroy the ring there, right under Sauron’s – its maker and owner – nose.
And Boromir had failed because he believed the ring could be used better by him or his father in Gondor.
You could not blame him for that.
※
Boromir was standing alone, looking east as usual. You observed him, debating with yourself whether to try to talk to him again. Tell him to be less hard on himself.
But you had a feeling he would only be angry if you brought it up.
Suddenly Boromir began to shake violently and fell to his knees. He was clutching his chest.
You immediately ran forward. Was his heart troubling him?
“What happened? Are you ill?”
Still trembling, he turned his head east. “Look,” he whispered.
You looked. A gray pillar was rising into the sky, like smoke from a huge chimney. Beneath it the sky was a bright orange.
“What is it?”
“It is gone. The Ring… I no longer sense it. He must have destroyed it.” He slowly rose to his feet, wiping moisture from his forehead.
“Are you certain?” Could the quest really have succeeded against all odds? You did not dare believe it.
“That smoke… Frodo was going to throw the Ring into Mount Doom; perhaps it erupted as a consequence.” His voice was steadier now. “Either way, I know it is gone. All this time, I felt it. A heavy weight; a steady pull on my mind. But I no longer do.”
“How are you feeling?” You were still worried.
“Good.” A surprised half-smile formed on his lips. “My heart is light. I feel free.”
It struck you he looked like several years had been removed from his face; the perpetual worry lines were eased out. Slowly, gradually you were starting to believe him. It had to be true. Nothing else could have affected him so positively.
He caught you in an impromptu hug. “The victory is ours! The enemy stands no chance with the Ring gone!”
You clung to him, wanting to be in his arms forever. Relief and happiness flooded your chest, nearly choking you. There would be a future ahead that was not completely dark.
Maybe you could even dare hope for love.
※
You were about to prepare dinner when there was a knock on your door. A bit puzzled you went to open; nobody knocked around here. They just barged in.
Boromir stood outside, looking different somehow. It took you a heartbeat until you realized why: he had shaved, leaving only a short, neat beard. His hair was slightly damp as if he had just taken a bath.
He was so attractive you could hardly breathe.
“Good evening. I have not told anyone else about the ring; I find it difficult to explain how I can be so sure it is gone, but I want to celebrate the upcoming victory. Will you join me?” He held up a flagon. “I have mead.”
Your head spun. Was this the same man who had so carefully kept you at a distance before?
“Of course,” you said, not letting your voice betray your surprise. “Let me make myself ready first.”
You hurried back inside, suddenly very conscious about your appearance. You washed your face and hands, wishing there was time to take a bath. You put on scented oil instead.
Then you hauled out your nicest clothes and brushed your hair until it shone.
A bit breathlessly you went out.
He regarded your appearance appreciatively. “Lovely.” Something about the way he looked at you made your heart beat faster.
Boromir took you to the roof you had been using as a lookout tower before, spreading a blanket for you both to sit on.
It was not very big, and as you sat down you felt the heat from his body and a whiff of his scent. He must have used perfumed oil as well.
“Time to feast. Here, have a cup. Vidar promised me it is the strongest mead he has.”
You drank in companionable silence first. The evening was cool; it was still only late March, but you thought you felt the smell of spring in the air. The column of smoke over Mordor had a pink hue from the setting sun.
You did not quite dare look at Boromir. Again he felt so much bigger than you, so much stronger, and it intimidated you.
After a while the drink began to affect you, filling you with courage. You discreetly peeked at him from the corner of your eyes.
You admired his profile; his straight nose, dark eyebrows, his clear eyes glittering in the evening light. How was it possible for a man to be so handsome?
He must have dressed with care. The cloak he wore was new, lined with rabbit fur, and you did not recognize the tunic.
“New clothes?” you asked, trying to hide your fluster with conversation as was your habit.
“Vidar let me choose between his spare ones; he said he still owes me for the belt. Your influence, I presume.”
Boromir had chosen well; the tunic was elegantly cut and suited him perfectly. You recalled that his other clothes and his boots were also very nice. Suddenly amused, you realized he must be a bit of a coxcomb.
“I was not aware you were a man of fashion.”
“I am a man of many talents.” His lopsided grin made your heart throb.
“Indeed, you are,” you let slip.
“You are a person of many talents too.” He took your hand. “I was fortunate to be saved by such an attractive healer.”
You found no words to reply; your mouth had grown too dry.
Still looking intently at you, he took your hand and brought it to his lips. They were cool and burning hot at the same time.
You had his full attention and charisma directed at you. It made your limbs feel weak. You could not move, not breathe. Time stopped. As if he and you were alone in the world.
He took another sip from his mug and released your eyes; the tense moment passed. A small smile lingered on his lips.
He must know how he affected you. He played you like a fiddle.
But you did not mind.
“More mead?” As he refilled your mug, his fingers brushed against yours.
You moved closer. “I am cold,” you mumbled as an excuse. It was a lie. You were burning hot, set aflame by your emotions.
His smile widened. He knew.
He put his cloak around you both, pulling you close. The rabbit fur was soft against your chin.
He was so warm. You felt safe and protected with his strong arm around you. You leaned into him, rested your head on his broad chest.
He put the mug down to stroke your hair, a bit clumsily because it was his right hand. You did not care. His fingers were chafed and calloused. You did not care about that either.
You slid your own hand around his waist. His frame was lean and hard. You pressed your nose against the hollow under his neck, drawing in the scent of his warm skin. Your heart beat fast and hard, the sound of it filling your ears.
You felt his pulse beat fast too.
He held your cheek in his palm, turning your face up. He had such large hands. His eyes were dark, drawing you in.
He was looking at your lips. You looked at his.
Then you kissed.
※
It was late when Boromir escorted you home. The kiss still burned on your lips, the memory of it repeating itself in your mind. You had never been kissed that way before. With such passion, yet so gentle.
Even in this, Boromir showed what a kind man he was. He did not push. He did not go too far. As if he wanted to revel in the moment, to share a kiss without pressure for more.
You had expected he would ask you out again soon after that night, or perhaps ask to move back in with you, but he did neither. He stayed with Vidar, continuing his work training horses.
Yet there was a huge difference in his behavior toward you.
Now, when you met, he always smiled, and never failed to exchange a few words if there was time. And whenever you were in his vicinity you often felt his eyes on you.
If only you were brave enough to make advances, but it appeared you had caught a spell of unusual shyness around him.
Then one day when you were heading home from a visit to Sigrid and the baby, he fell into step with you. “Will you walk with me?”
You noticed his hair was damp again after a bath, and his cheeks smooth and freshly shaved. Your stomach fluttered. You had not stopped thinking about the kiss. Longing to repeat it.
As soon as you were some way from the village he took your hand. Yours nearly disappeared in his. It was warm and strong. You squeezed it and he squeezed back.
Then you just walked. Admiring the spring flowers along the path, discussing what kind of birds you heard, enjoying the afternoon sun on your faces. Taking breaks now and then so he could rest his feet. Walking was still taxing for him.
When you were back at your house he kissed the top of your hand. “Sleep well. Will you walk with me again tomorrow? I enjoyed it very much.”
“I did too.” Your heart felt so full it overflowed.
From then on, you took daily walks together, and sometimes rode out on horseback. It felt like you explored the surroundings and saw them for the first time – because to him, it was the first time. You showed him all your favorite places, told him anecdotes from your youth, and he shared similar tales from his own childhood. He had been up to quite a lot of mischief with his brother it seemed, and whenever he shared those memories his eyes grew soft.
“You miss him.”
He nodded. “I do.”
You hoped one day the brothers would be reunited.
Some days later a rider arrived with more news and an invitation. Sauron was dead, the ring destroyed – exactly as Boromir had known. All the Dark Lord’s minions had been swiftly defeated afterwards. And what was more, against all odds Lord Aragorn had survived the decoy attack, and so had all the rest of the Fellowship. Gondor would soon have a king again after so many centuries without, and everyone was invited to his coronation, especially the men who had taken part in the war.
“What will happen to the steward’s son?” asked Boromir, clearly feigning only a slight interest in the matter.
“He will become Prince of Ithilien. And he is engaged to marry one of ours! Éowyn, niece of Théoden King. Everyone saw them kiss at the city walls.”
Boromir relaxed. “Good for him.”
That day, Boromir was unusually quiet as you left the village on your walk. He seemed melancholy, but who wouldn’t be? The news from the south must have reminded him of where he came from, of his old life.
Did he think of going there? Perhaps attend the coronation? You felt a pang at the thought of him leaving you.
Maybe you could ask him to take you with him…
But no, you belonged here. What would the villagers do without their only healer?
Repressing a sigh, you took in the surroundings, trying to enjoy the beauty around you. It was a mild spring day and the pastures had become green. Everywhere you saw signs of new life: the lambs bouncing around their mothers, the new foals, Sigrid and Torsten’s baby napping in a basket.
You felt a huge wave of gratitude that all of it was still there. Other villages had been wiped out in the war, but not this one.
Your steps had taken you in the direction of the river, and you realized you were almost at the place where you first found Boromir. It felt strange that only two months had passed since then.
Boromir silently regarded the roaring waterfall. Probably recalling the events of that day. His betrayal. The orc attack. Waking up afterwards unable to use his body.
“The halflings survived,” he said, nodding at the Falls. "Frodo’s friends. It was them I tried to protect in the orc attack, and all this time I thought I had failed. But I saved them. Funny that.”
“Yet you seem unhappy,” you said, taking his hand and squeezing it. Holding hands with him felt natural now.
He sighed. “I suppose I am, a little. I keep regretting I was not there… I could not follow through. The war is over and I did not help. Aragorn had to do everything.”
“How can you say you did not help? You saved us. Me. This may be a tiny corner of the world, but it is all we ever had. Because of you, we still do.”
He looked like he was going to object but you would not let him.
“As I once said, this world needs more good men. Men like you. And do not say I do not know you for now I do. You showed your kindness and virtue even when you tried to take that… thing – no, hear me out! – for you did not hurt the one who carried it. I have seen you fight; you could have sliced his head off in the blink of an eye. You could have taken the ring so easily. But you did not. Because you are good and kind. Because you could never hurt a friend, ever.”
He stared at you. Then a mist appeared in his eyes and he turned his head away. “I have not thought about it that way.”
“But it is true, is it not? You could have killed him.”
“I could.”
“And if the tales are true, you were hardly the first man to be corrupted by the power of that ring.”
“I was not.” His voice was toneless.
“Boromir,” you said earnestly, squeezing his hand again. “It was not your fault.”
“It was not my fault,” he whispered. Slowly he turned his eyes back to you, allowing you to see the tears pooling in them. “It was not my fault.”
He wrapped his arms around you and pressed his face into your hair. You hid your eyes against his strong chest. You were crying too now. For him, for everything he had been through, all the heartache and guilt. For the loss of his father. For the loss of his strength and mobility.
“I am so sorry for you,” you sobbed.
“Thank you.” Then he suddenly chuckled, and added in a broken voice that was at the same time happy and sad: “I would never have thought I would be grateful for someone’s pity. But I am. So, thank you.”
“Not pity; sympathy,” you said firmly.
You kept the hug for a long time. Allowing one another to calm down and collect yourself. Then you sat on a soft patch of grass by the river.
“Middle-earth is at peace. Will you return home?” you asked.
You were afraid to hear his reply but had to know. If this, whatever it was between you, should turn into something more, then you needed to know.
“I miss my brother, but the way things are I feel my return would only complicate things. I know he will be a good prince and leader, whereas I… well, I am a cripple.”
“You are not a cripple!” you objected.
Again he chuckled, blessing you with the genuine warmth of his laughter. “Not entirely, I suppose. And perhaps one day I shall visit Faramir. Let him know I am alive. But if so, I would not go there to stay.” He planted a kiss on the top of your hand. “Do you know what I want to do most of all?”
You mutely shook your head. Your heart was beating faster again.
“Stay here.” He nodded at the calm river and the reeds waving in the mild breeze. “In this beautiful place, with the river and the open, quiet plains. Among the horses and the sheep. I grew up in the bustle of the large city but now I have fallen in love with the peaceful, slow life and ways of the village.” He gave you his beautiful half-grin. “My father would think I had lost my mind if he could hear me now.” His smile swiftly waned. “But he is gone. I loved him, but I was never like him.”
“Would you not get bored? You enjoyed yourself on the battlefield, anyone could see that.”
“No more than I enjoyed breaking in Svarten and his foals. The thrill of galloping over a field is no less than the thrill of chasing an orc. No, I will not be bored. I will be happy.” His gaze grew soft as he met yours. “With you, if you will have me.”
“Of course,” you replied, fresh tears filling your eyes. Happy tears.
Softly he kissed them away, one by one. Then his lips found yours.
This time he did not stop after one sweet kiss. And this time he wasn’t only gentle.
You both knew what you wanted and where this was heading. For – you were his and he was yours, until death would part you.
※※※
A/N:
The next chapter is an Explicit bonus chapter that can be skipped.
※※※
Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]
Full story: [ AO3 ]
#boromir#boromir x reader#boromir x oc#boromir lives au#lotr#lotr fanfiction#boromir fanfiction#lord of the rings#hurt/comfort#healing#heroism#Stranger of the Falls
24 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
mikenizm
27
haanjii
wait what do i put here
beautiesofbygoneeras
Beauties Of Bygone Eras
bamdora
why did you call me baby?
yeelingwang
YEELINGWANG